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Binding
her
head
.
Inside
this
exterior
,
over
which
the
eye
might
have
roved
as
over
a
thing
scarcely
percipient
,
almost
inorganic
,
there
was
the
record
of
a
pulsing
life
which
had
learnt
too
well
,
for
its
years
,
of
the
dust
and
ashes
of
things
,
of
the
cruelty
of
lust
and
the
fragility
of
love
.
Next
day
the
weather
was
bad
,
but
she
trudged
on
,
the
honesty
,
directness
,
and
impartiality
of
elemental
enmity
disconcerting
her
but
little
.
Her
object
being
a
winter
’
s
occupation
and
a
winter
’
s
home
,
there
was
no
time
to
lose
.
Her
experience
of
short
hirings
had
been
such
that
she
was
determined
to
accept
no
more
.
Thus
she
went
forward
from
farm
to
farm
in
the
direction
of
the
place
whence
Marian
had
written
to
her
,
which
she
determined
to
make
use
of
as
a
last
shift
only
,
its
rumoured
stringencies
being
the
reverse
of
tempting
.
First
she
inquired
for
the
lighter
kinds
of
employment
,
and
,
as
acceptance
in
any
variety
of
these
grew
hopeless
,
applied
next
for
the
less
light
,
till
,
beginning
with
the
dairy
and
poultry
tendance
that
she
liked
best
,
she
ended
with
the
heavy
and
course
pursuits
which
she
liked
least
—
work
on
arable
land
:
work
of
such
roughness
,
indeed
,
as
she
would
never
have
deliberately
voluteered
for
.
Towards
the
second
evening
she
reached
the
irregular
chalk
table
-
land
or
plateau
,
bosomed
with
semi
-
globular
tumuli
—
as
if
Cybele
the
Many
-
breasted
were
supinely
extended
there
—
which
stretched
between
the
valley
of
her
birth
and
the
valley
of
her
love
.
Here
the
air
was
dry
and
cold
,
and
the
long
cart
-
roads
were
blown
white
and
dusty
within
a
few
hours
after
rain
.
There
were
few
trees
,
or
none
,
those
that
would
have
grown
in
the
hedges
being
mercilessly
plashed
down
with
the
quickset
by
the
tenant
-
farmers
,
the
natural
enemies
of
tree
,
bush
,
and
brake
.
In
the
middle
distance
ahead
of
her
she
could
see
the
summits
of
Bulbarrow
and
of
Nettlecombe
Tout
,
and
they
seemed
friendly
.
They
had
a
low
and
unassuming
aspect
from
this
upland
,
though
as
approached
on
the
other
side
from
Blackmoor
in
her
childhood
they
were
as
lofty
bastions
against
the
sky
.
Southerly
,
at
many
miles
’
distance
,
and
over
the
hills
and
ridges
coastward
,
she
could
discern
a
surface
like
polished
steel
:
it
was
the
English
Channel
at
a
point
far
out
towards
France
.
Before
her
,
in
a
slight
depression
,
were
the
remains
of
a
village
.
She
had
,
in
fact
,
reached
Flintcomb
-
Ash
,
the
place
of
Marian
’
s
sojourn
.
There
seemed
to
be
no
help
for
it
;
hither
she
was
doomed
to
come
.
The
stubborn
soil
around
her
showed
plainly
enough
that
the
kind
of
labour
in
demand
here
was
of
the
roughest
kind
;
but
it
was
time
to
rest
from
searching
,
and
she
resolved
to
stay
,
particularly
as
it
began
to
rain
.
At
the
entrance
to
the
village
was
a
cottage
whose
gable
jutted
into
the
road
,
and
before
applying
for
a
lodging
she
stood
under
its
shelter
,
and
watched
the
evening
close
in
.
“
Who
would
think
I
was
Mrs
Angel
Clare
!
”
she
said
.
The
wall
felt
warm
to
her
back
and
shoulders
,
and
she
found
that
immediately
within
the
gable
was
the
cottage
fireplace
,
the
heat
of
which
came
through
the
bricks
.
She
warmed
her
hands
upon
them
,
and
also
put
her
cheek
—
red
and
moist
with
the
drizzle
—
against
their
comforting
surface
.
The
wall
seemed
to
be
the
only
friend
she
had
.
She
had
so
little
wish
to
leave
it
that
she
could
have
stayed
there
all
night
.
