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I. “Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery”

           Themoonisshiningbeautifully,andthereisnotaleafstirring.”

           “Shining,isit?What’sthemoontoamanlikeme?Letitshine—letanythingbe,sothatIneverseeanotherday!...Eustacia,Idon’tknowwheretolook—mythoughtsgothroughmelikeswords.O,ifanymanwantstomakehimselfimmortalbypaintingapictureofwretchedness,lethimcomehere!”

           “Whydoyousayso?”

           “IcannothelpfeelingthatIdidmybesttokillher.”

           “No,Clym.”

           “Yes,itwasso;itisuselesstoexcuseme!Myconducttoherwastoohideous—Imadenoadvances;andshecouldnotbringherselftoforgiveme.Nowsheisdead!IfIhadonlyshownmyselfwillingtomakeitupwithhersooner,andwehadbeenfriends,andthenshehaddied,itwouldn’tbesohardtobear.ButIneverwentnearherhouse,soshenevercamenearmine,anddidn’tknowhowwelcomeshewouldhavebeen—that’swhattroublesme.ShedidnotknowIwasgoingtoherhousethatverynight,forshewastooinsensibletounderstandme.Ifshehadonlycometoseeme!Ilongedthatshewould.Butitwasnottobe.”

           ThereescapedfromEustaciaoneofthoseshiveringsighswhichusedtoshakeherlikeapestilentblast.Shehadnotyettold.

           ButYeobrightwastoodeeplyabsorbedintheramblingsincidentaltohisremorsefulstatetonoticeher.Duringhisillnesshehadbeencontinuallytalkingthus.DespairhadbeenaddedtohisoriginalgriefbytheunfortunatedisclosureoftheboywhohadreceivedthelastwordsofMrs.Yeobright—wordstoobitterlyutteredinanhourofmisapprehension.

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