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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I cannot listen to this, Clym it will end bitterly," she said in a broken voice. "I will go home." 3 She Goes Out to Battle against Depression A few days later, before the month of August has expired, Eustacia and Yeobright sat together at their early dinner. Eustacia's manner had become of late almost apathetic.
"Mis'ess Yeobright, not ten minutes ago a man was here asking for you a reddleman." "What did he want?" said she. "He didn't tell us." "Something to sell, I suppose; what it can be I am at a loss to understand." "I am glad to hear that your son Mr. Clym is coming home at Christmas, ma'am," said Sam, the turf-cutter. "What a dog he used to be for bonfires!" "Yes. I believe he is coming," she said.
"You ought to have better opinions of me I feared you were against me from the first!" exclaimed Eustacia. "No. I was simply for Clym," replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too much emphasis in her earnestness. "It is the instinct of everyone to look after their own." "How can you imply that he required guarding against me?" cried Eustacia, passionate tears in her eyes.
Yeobright attempted to drink, but it was so warm as to give her nausea, and she threw it away. Afterwards she still remained sitting, with her eyes closed. The boy waited, played near her, caught several of the little brown butterflies which abounded, and then said as he waited again, "I like going on better than biding still. Will you soon start again?" "I don't know."
She questioned Christian, and the confusion in his answers would at once have led her to believe that something was wrong, had not one-half of his story been corroborated by Thomasin's note. Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was informed one morning that her son's wife was visiting her grandfather at Mistover.
It was, however, not with those who sat in the settle that Eustacia was concerned. A face showed itself with marked distinctness against the dark-tanned wood of the upper part. The owner, who was leaning against the settle's outer end, was Clement Yeobright, or Clym, as he was called here; she knew it could be nobody else.
"I wish I might go on by myself," he resumed, fearing, apparently, that he was to be pressed into some unpleasant service. "Do you want me any more, please?" Mrs. Yeobright made no reply. "What shall I tell Mother?" the boy continued. "Tell her you have seen a broken-hearted woman cast off by her son."
What made you change from the nice business your father left you?" "Well, I did," he said, and looked at Thomasin, who blushed a little. "Then you'll not be wanting me any more tonight, ma'am?" Mrs. Yeobright glanced around at the dark sky, at the hills, at the perishing bonfires, and at the lighted window of the inn they had neared. "I think not," she said, "since Thomasin wishes to walk.
As day after day passed by, and he got no better, her mind ran more and more in this mournful groove, and she would go away from him into the garden and weep despairing tears. Yeobright thought he would send for his mother; and then he thought he would not.
Isn't it spoke like a man, Timothy, and wasn't Mis'ess Yeobright wrong about me?" "Yes, it will do. I didn't know the two had walked together since last fall, when her aunt forbad the banns. How long has this new set-to been in mangling then? Do you know, Humphrey?" "Yes, how long?" said Grandfer Cantle smartly, likewise turning to Humphrey. "I ask that question."
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