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The
furze
-
rick
was
finished
;
the
men
had
gone
home
.
Eustacia
went
upstairs
,
thinking
that
she
would
take
a
walk
at
this
her
usual
time
;
and
she
determined
that
her
walk
should
be
in
the
direction
of
Blooms
-
End
,
the
birthplace
of
young
Yeobright
and
the
present
home
of
his
mother
.
She
had
no
reason
for
walking
elsewhere
,
and
why
should
she
not
go
that
way
?
The
scene
of
the
daydream
is
sufficient
for
a
pilgrimage
at
nineteen
.
To
look
at
the
palings
before
the
Yeobrights
’
house
had
the
dignity
of
a
necessary
performance
.
Strange
that
such
a
piece
of
idling
should
have
seemed
an
important
errand
.
She
put
on
her
bonnet
,
and
,
leaving
the
house
,
descended
the
hill
on
the
side
towards
Blooms
-
End
,
where
she
walked
slowly
along
the
valley
for
a
distance
of
a
mile
and
a
half
.
This
brought
her
to
a
spot
in
which
the
green
bottom
of
the
dale
began
to
widen
,
the
furze
bushes
to
recede
yet
further
from
the
path
on
each
side
,
till
they
were
diminished
to
an
isolated
one
here
and
there
by
the
increasing
fertility
of
the
soil
.
Beyond
the
irregular
carpet
of
grass
was
a
row
of
white
palings
,
which
marked
the
verge
of
the
heath
in
this
latitude
.
They
showed
upon
the
dusky
scene
that
they
bordered
as
distinctly
as
white
lace
on
velvet
.
Behind
the
white
palings
was
a
little
garden
;
behind
the
garden
an
old
,
irregular
,
thatched
house
,
facing
the
heath
,
and
commanding
a
full
view
of
the
valley
.
This
was
the
obscure
,
removed
spot
to
which
was
about
to
return
a
man
whose
latter
life
had
been
passed
in
the
French
capital
—
the
centre
and
vortex
of
the
fashionable
world
.
All
that
afternoon
the
expected
arrival
of
the
subject
of
Eustacia
’
s
ruminations
created
a
bustle
of
preparation
at
Blooms
-
End
.
Thomasin
had
been
persuaded
by
her
aunt
,
and
by
an
instinctive
impulse
of
loyalty
towards
her
cousin
Clym
,
to
bestir
herself
on
his
account
with
an
alacrity
unusual
in
her
during
these
most
sorrowful
days
of
her
life
.
At
the
time
that
Eustacia
was
listening
to
the
rick
-
makers
’
conversation
on
Clym
’
s
return
,
Thomasin
was
climbing
into
a
loft
over
her
aunt
’
s
fuelhouse
,
where
the
store
-
apples
were
kept
,
to
search
out
the
best
and
largest
of
them
for
the
coming
holiday
-
time
.
The
loft
was
lighted
by
a
semicircular
hole
,
through
which
the
pigeons
crept
to
their
lodgings
in
the
same
high
quarters
of
the
premises
;
and
from
this
hole
the
sun
shone
in
a
bright
yellow
patch
upon
the
figure
of
the
maiden
as
she
knelt
and
plunged
her
naked
arms
into
the
soft
brown
fern
,
which
,
from
its
abundance
,
was
used
on
Egdon
in
packing
away
stores
of
all
kinds
.
The
pigeons
were
flying
about
her
head
with
the
greatest
unconcern
,
and
the
face
of
her
aunt
was
just
visible
above
the
floor
of
the
loft
,
lit
by
a
few
stray
motes
of
light
,
as
she
stood
halfway
up
the
ladder
,
looking
at
a
spot
into
which
she
was
not
climber
enough
to
venture
.
“
Now
a
few
russets
,
Tamsin
.
He
used
to
like
them
almost
as
well
as
ribstones
.
”
Thomasin
turned
and
rolled
aside
the
fern
from
another
nook
,
where
more
mellow
fruit
greeted
her
with
its
ripe
smell
.
Before
picking
them
out
she
stopped
a
moment
.
“
Dear
Clym
,
I
wonder
how
your
face
looks
now
?
”
she
said
,
gazing
abstractedly
at
the
pigeon
-
hole
,
which
admitted
the
sunlight
so
directly
upon
her
brown
hair
and
transparent
tissues
that
it
almost
seemed
to
shine
through
her
.
“
If
he
could
have
been
dear
to
you
in
another
way
,
”
said
Mrs
.
Yeobright
from
the
ladder
,
“
this
might
have
been
a
happy
meeting
.
”
“
Is
there
any
use
in
saying
what
can
do
no
good
,
Aunt
?
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
her
aunt
,
with
some
warmth
.
“
To
thoroughly
fill
the
air
with
the
past
misfortune
,
so
that
other
girls
may
take
warning
and
keep
clear
of
it
.
”
