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III. Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning

           Insteadofstartingtowardshiminsorrowfulsurprise,asevenEustacia,undemonstrativewifeasshewas,wouldhavedoneindaysbeforesheburdenedherselfwithasecret,sheremainedmotionless,lookingathimintheglass.Andwhileshelookedthecarmineflushwithwhichwarmthandsoundsleephadsuffusedhercheeksandneckdissolvedfromview,andthedeathlikepallorinhisfaceflewacrossintohers.Hewascloseenoughtoseethis,andthesightinstigatedhistongue.

           “Youknowwhatisthematter,”hesaidhuskily.“Iseeitinyourface.”

           Herhandrelinquishedtheropeofhairanddroppedtoherside,andthepileoftresses,nolongersupported,fellfromthecrownofherheadabouthershouldersandoverthewhitenightgown.Shemadenoreply.

           “Speaktome,”saidYeobrightperemptorily.

           Theblanchingprocessdidnotceaseinher,andherlipsnowbecameaswhiteasherface.Sheturnedtohimandsaid,“Yes,Clym,I’llspeaktoyou.Whydoyoureturnsoearly?CanIdoanythingforyou?”

           “Yes,youcanlistentome.Itseemsthatmywifeisnotverywell?”

           “Why?”

           “Yourface,mydear;yourface.Orperhapsitisthepalemorninglightwhichtakesyourcolouraway?NowIamgoingtorevealasecrettoyou.Ha-ha!”

           “O,thatisghastly!”

           “What?”

           “Yourlaugh.”

           “There’sreasonforghastliness.Eustacia,youhaveheldmyhappinessinthehollowofyourhand,andlikeadevilyouhavedasheditdown!”

           Shestartedbackfromthedressing-table,retreatedafewstepsfromhim,andlookedhimintheface.“Ah!youthinktofrightenme,”shesaid,withaslightlaugh.

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