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VII. The Night of the Sixth of November

           

           Ateleveno’clockhewenttobedhimself,smokedforsometimeinhisbedroom,putouthislightathalf-pasteleven,andthen,aswashisinvariablecustom,pulleduptheblindbeforegettingintobed,thathemightseewhichwaythewindblewonopeninghiseyesinthemorning,hisbedroomwindowcommandingaviewoftheflagstaffandvane.Justashehadlaindownhewassurprisedtoobservethewhitepoleofthestaffflashintoexistencelikeastreakofphosphorusdrawndownwardsacrosstheshadeofnightwithout.Onlyoneexplanationmetthis—alighthadbeensuddenlythrownuponthepolefromthedirectionofthehouse.Aseverybodyhadretiredtoresttheoldmanfeltitnecessarytogetoutofbed,openthewindowsoftly,andlooktotherightandleft.Eustacia’sbedroomwaslightedup,anditwastheshinefromherwindowwhichhadlightedthepole.Wonderingwhathadarousedher,heremainedundecidedatthewindow,andwasthinkingoffetchingthelettertoslipitunderherdoor,whenheheardaslightbrushingofgarmentsonthepartitiondividinghisroomfromthepassage.

           ThecaptainconcludedthatEustacia,feelingwakeful,hadgoneforabook,andwouldhavedismissedthematterasunimportantifhehadnotalsoheardherdistinctlyweepingasshepassed.

           “Sheisthinkingofthathusbandofhers,”hesaidtohimself.“Ah,thesillygoose!shehadnobusinesstomarryhim.Iwonderifthatletterisreallyhis?”

           Hearose,threwhisboat-cloakroundhim,openedthedoor,andsaid,“Eustacia!”Therewasnoanswer.

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