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VI. The Figure against the Sky

           

           AfterherattentivesurveyofthewildslopesandhollowravinesagestureofimpatienceescapedEustacia.Sheventedpetulantwordseverynowandthen,butthereweresighsbetweenherwords,andsuddenlisteningsbetweenhersighs.DescendingfromherperchsheagainsaunteredofftowardsRainbarrow,thoughthistimeshedidnotgothewholeway.

           Twiceshereappearedatintervalsofafewminutesandeachtimeshesaid—

           “Notanyflounceintothepondyet,littleman?”

           “No,MissEustacia,”thechildreplied.

           “Well,”shesaidatlast,“Ishallsoonbegoingin,andthenIwillgiveyouthecrookedsixpence,andletyougohome.”

           “Thank’ee,MissEustacia,”saidthetiredstoker,breathingmoreeasily.AndEustaciaagainstrolledawayfromthefire,butthistimenottowardsRainbarrow.Sheskirtedthebankandwentroundtothewicketbeforethehouse,whereshestoodmotionless,lookingatthescene.

           Fiftyyardsoffrosethecornerofthetwoconvergingbanks,withthefireuponit;withinthebank,liftinguptothefireonestickatatime,justasbefore,thefigureofthelittlechild.Sheidlywatchedhimasheoccasionallyclimbedupinthenookofthebankandstoodbesidethebrands.Thewindblewthesmoke,andthechild’shair,andthecornerofhispinafore,allinthesamedirection;thebreezedied,andthepinaforeandhairlaystill,andthesmokewentupstraight.

           WhileEustacialookedonfromthisdistancetheboy’sformvisiblystarted—hesliddownthebankandranacrosstowardsthewhitegate.

           “Well?”saidEustacia.

           “Ahopfroghavejumpedintothepond.

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