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a few minutes, Timothy,” said Yeobright. “I’ll take your place.”

      The grapnel was again lowered. Its smart impact upon the distant water reached their ears like a kiss, whereupon Yeobright knelt down, and leaning over the well began dragging the grapnel round and round as Fairway had done.

      “Tie a rope round him — it is dangerous!” cried a soft and anxious voice somewhere above them.

      Everybody turned. The speaker was a woman, gazing down upon the group from an upper window, whose panes blazed in the ruddy glare from the west. Her lips were parted and she appeared for the moment to forget where she was.

      The rope was accordingly tied round his waist, and the work proceeded. At the next haul the weight was not heavy, and it was discovered that they had only secured a coil of the rope detached from the bucket. The tangled mass was thrown into the background. Humphrey took Yeobright’s place, and the grapnel was lowered again.

      Yeobright retired to the heap of recovered rope in a meditative mood. Of the identity between the lady’s voice and that of the melancholy mummer he had not a moment’s doubt. “How thoughtful of her!” he said to himself.

      Eustacia, who had reddened when she perceived the effect of her exclamation upon the group below, was no longer to be seen at the window, though Yeobright scanned it wistfully. While he stood there the men at the well succeeded in getting up the bucket without a mishap. One of them went to inquire for the captain, to learn what orders he wished to give for mending the well-tackle. The captain proved to be away from home, and Eustacia appeared at the door and came out. She had lapsed into an easy and dignified calm, far removed from the intensity of life in her words of solicitude for Clym’s safety.

      “Will it be possible to draw water here tonight?” she inquired.

      “No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as we can do no more now we’ll leave off, and come again tomorrow morning.”

      “No water,” she murmured, turning away.

      “I can send you up some from Blooms-End,” said Clym, coming forward and raising his hat as the men retired.

      Yeobright and Eustacia looked at each other for one instant, as if each had in mind those few moments during which a certain moonlight scene was common to both. With the glance the calm fixity of her features sublimed itself to an expression of refinement and warmth; it was like garish noon rising to the dignity of sunset in a couple of seconds.

      “Thank you; it will hardly be necessary,” she replied.

      “But if you have no water?”

      “Well, it is what I call no water,” she said, blushing, and lifting her long-lashed eyelids as if to lift them were a work requiring consideration. “But my grandfather calls it water enough. I’ll show you what I mean.”

      She moved away a few yards, and Clym followed. When she reached the corner of the enclosure, where the steps were formed for mounting the boundary bank, she sprang up with a lightness which seemed strange after her listless movement towards the well. It incidentally showed that her apparent languor did not arise from lack of force.

      Clym ascended behind her, and noticed a circular burnt patch at the top of the bank. “Ashes?” he said.

      “Yes,” said Eustacia. “We had a little bonfire here last Fifth of November, and those are the marks of it.”

      On that spot had stood the fire she had kindled to attract Wildeve.

      “That’s the only kind of water we have,” she continued, tossing a stone into the pool, which lay on the outside of the bank like the white of an eye without its pupil. The stone fell with a flounce, but no Wildeve appeared on the other side, as on a previous occasion there. “My grandfather says he lived for more than twenty years at sea on water twice as bad as that,” she went on, “and considers it quite good enough for us here on an emergency.”

      “Well, as a matter of fact there are no impurities in the water of these pools at this time of the year. It has only just rained into them.”

      She shook her head. “I am managing to exist in a wilderness, but I cannot drink from a pond,” she said.

      Clym looked towards the well, which was now deserted, the men having gone home. “It is a long way to send for spring-water,” he said, after a silence. “But since you don’t like this in the pond, I’ll try to get you some myself.” He went back to the well. “Yes, I think I could do it by tying on this pail.”

      “But, since I would not trouble the men to get it, I cannot in conscience let you.”

      “I don’t mind the trouble at all.”

      He made fast the pail to the long coil of rope, put it over the wheel, and allowed it to descend by letting the rope slip through his hands. Before it had gone far, however, he checked it.

      “I must make fast the end first, or we may lose the whole,” he said to Eustacia, who had drawn near. “Could you hold this a moment, while I do it — or shall I call your servant?”

      “I can hold it,” said Eustacia; and he placed the rope in her hands, going then to search for the end.

      “I suppose I may let it slip down?” she inquired.

      “I would advise you not to let it go far,” said Clym. “It will get much heavier, you will find.”

      However, Eustacia had begun to pay out. While he was tying she cried, “I cannot stop it!”

      Clym ran to her side, and found he could only check the rope by twisting the loose part round the upright post, when it stopped with a jerk. “Has it hurt you?”

      “Yes,” she replied.

      “Very much?”

      “No; I think not.” She opened her hands. One of them was bleeding; the rope had dragged off the skin. Eustacia wrapped it in her handkerchief.

      “You should have let go,” said Yeobright. “Why didn’t you?”

      “You said I was to hold on. . . . This is the second time I have been wounded today.”

      “Ah, yes; I have heard of it. I blush for my native Egdon. Was it a serious injury you received in church, Miss Vye?”

      There was such an abundance of sympathy in Clym’s tone that Eustacia slowly drew up her sleeve and disclosed her round white arm. A bright red spot appeared on its smooth surface, like a ruby on Parian marble.

      “There it is,” she said, putting her finger against the spot.

      “It was dastardly of the woman,” said Clym. “Will not Captain Vye get her punished?”

      “He is gone from home on that very business. I did not know that I had such a magic reputation.”

      “And you fainted?” said Clym, looking at the scarlet little puncture as if he would like to kiss it and make it well.

      “Yes, it frightened me. I had not been to church for a long time. And now I shall not go again for ever so long — perhaps never. I cannot face their eyes after this. Don’t you think it dreadfully humiliating? I wished I was dead for hours after, but I don’t mind now.”

      “I have come to clean away these cobwebs,” said Yeobright. “Would you like to help me — by high-class teaching? We might benefit them much.”

      “I don’t quite feel anxious to. I have not much love for my fellow-creatures. Sometimes I quite hate them.”

      “Still I think that if you were to hear my scheme you might take an interest in it. There is no use in hating people — if you hate anything, you should hate what produced them.”

      “Do you mean Nature? I hate her already. But I shall be glad to hear your scheme at any time.”

      The situation had now worked itself out, and

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