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Updated: May 23, 2025
Venn regarded him, and then said, "If I didn't see your face I could never believe your words. Have you been ill?" "I had an illness." "Well, the change! When I parted from her a month ago everything seemed to say that she was going to begin a new life." "And what seemed came true." "You say right, no doubt. Trouble has taught you a deeper vein of talk than mine.
Many were the letters of sympathy she received from Venn, Berridge, Romaine, Fletcher, and others; but it was a loss that could not be replaced. But it could and it did help to purify still more the loving and trusting heart which could see, even as Fletcher urged, in so sore a trial, "mercy rejoicing over judgment."
"I was so alarmed!" said Thomasin, smiling from one to the other. "I couldn't believe that he had got white of his own accord! It seemed supernatural." "I gave up dealing in reddle last Christmas," said Venn. "It was a profitable trade, and I found that by that time I had made enough to take the dairy of fifty cows that my father had in his lifetime.
A bright fire was shining from the hearth, and two women were bustling about, one of whom was Olly Dowden. "Well, how is it going on now?" said Venn in a whisper. "Mr. Yeobright is better; but Mrs. Yeobright and Mr. Wildeve are dead and cold. The doctor says they were quite gone before they were out of the water." "Ah! I thought as much when I hauled 'em up. And Mrs. Wildeve?"
"I cannot tell you that, reddleman," she said coldly. Venn said no more. He pocketed the letter, and, bowing to Eustacia, went away. Rainbarrow had again become blended with night when Wildeve ascended the long acclivity at its base. On his reaching the top a shape grew up from the earth immediately behind him. It was that of Eustacia's emissary. He slapped Wildeve on the shoulder.
You went out with them, of course?" "No, I did not." "You appeared to be dressed on purpose." "Yes, but I could not go out alone; so many people were there. One is there now." Yeobright strained his eyes across the dark-green patch beyond the paling, and near the black form of the Maypole he discerned a shadowy figure, sauntering idly up and down. "Who is it?" he said. "Mr. Venn," said Thomasin.
Brimming with the subtilized misery that he was capable of feeling, he followed the opposite way towards the inn. About the same moment that Wildeve stepped into the highway Venn also had reached it at a point a hundred yards further on; and he, hearing the same wheels, likewise waited till the carriage should come up. When he saw who sat therein he seemed to be disappointed.
Henry Venn being then Hon. Secretary, and on July 1, 1868, accompanied by my wife and an old faithful servant named Jane, we started for Canada. My wife, accustomed to the refinement and comforts of a beautiful old rectory home in Gloucestershire, knew not whither she was going she had never been out of England before, and all was new and strange to her.
"I am rather glad of that," said Venn softly, and regarding her from the corner of his eye, "for it makes it easier for us to be friendly." Thomasin blushed again, and, when a few more words had been said of a not unpleasing kind, Venn mounted his horse and rode on. This conversation had passed in a hollow of the heath near the old Roman road, a place much frequented by Thomasin.
Then he went up the garden path, knocked, and asked for Mrs. Yeobright. Instead of requesting him to enter she came to the porch. A discourse was carried on between them in low measured tones for the space of ten minutes or more. At the end of the time Mrs. Yeobright went in, and Venn sadly retraced his steps into the heath.
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