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He looked anxiously towards Fairway. "Where are you going?" Wildeve asked. "To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there that's all." "I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk together." Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination came into his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright could not trust him with.
Were Eustacia still at Mistover the very least he expected was that she would send him back a reply tonight by the same hand; though, to leave all to her inclination, he had cautioned Fairway not to ask for an answer. If one were handed to him he was to bring it immediately; if not, he was to go straight home without troubling to come round to Blooms-End again that night.
Tying up these in small canvas bags, she went down to the garden and called to Christian Cantle, who was loitering about in hope of a supper which was not really owed him. Mrs. Yeobright gave him the moneybags, charged him to go to Mistover, and on no account to deliver them into any one's hands save her son's and Thomasin's.
Outside the house, on the other side of the highway, a mass of dark heath-land rose sullenly upward to its not easily accessible interior, a ravined plateau, whereon jutted into the sky, at the distance of a couple of miles, the fir-woods of Mistover backed by the Yalbury coppices a place of Dantesque gloom at this hour, which would have afforded secure hiding for a battery of artillery, much less a man and a child.
But on this particular evening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be conveyed to her there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon the whole the opportunity was worth taking advantage of. Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no more proper moment to render him his share of the money than the present.
Having been seated at work all day, he decided to take a turn upon the hills before it got dark; and, going out forthwith, he struck across the heath towards Mistover. It was an hour and a half later when he again appeared at the garden gate. The shutters of the house were closed, and Christian Cantle, who had been wheeling manure about the garden all day, had gone home.
If he were there with unjust intentions Wildeve, being a man of quick feeling, might possibly say something to reveal the extent to which Eustacia was compromised. But on reaching his cousin's house he found that only Thomasin was at home, Wildeve being at that time on his way towards the bonfire innocently lit by Charley at Mistover.
The reddleman spoke huskily, and looked into the garden. "Who gave her away?" "Miss Vye." "How very remarkable! Miss Vye! It is to be considered an honour, I suppose?" "Who's Miss Vye?" said Clym. "Captain Vye's granddaughter, of Mistover Knap." "A proud girl from Budmouth," said Mrs. Yeobright. "One not much to my liking. People say she's a witch, but of course that's absurd."
The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearances that Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. A solemn stillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, and there was no more animation indoors. Mrs.
A light cart from the nearest town descended the road, and the lad who was driving pulled up in front of the inn for something to drink. "You come from Mistover?" said Wildeve. "Yes. They are taking in good things up there. Going to be a wedding." And the driver buried his face in his mug. Wildeve had not received an inkling of the fact before, and a sudden expression of pain overspread his face.
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