“It is hard in you to probe me with that remark。 A woman may have reason； though she is not without heart； and if I felt ‘worse luck；’ it was no ignoble feeling— it was only too natural。 There； you see that at any rate I do not attempt untruths。 Do you remember how； before we were married； I warned you that I had not good wifely qualities？”
“You mock me to say that now。 On that point at least the only noble course would be to hold your tongue； for you are still queen of me； Eustacia； though I may no longer be king of you。”
“You are my husband。 Does not that content you？”
“Not unless you are my wife without regret。”
“I cannot answer you。 I remember saying that I should be a serious matter on your hands。”
“Yes； I saw that。”
“Then you were too quick to see！ No true lover would have seen any such thing； you are too severe upon me； Clym—I won’t like your speaking so at all。”
“Well； I married you in spite of it； and don’t regret doing so。 How cold you seem this afternoon！ and yet I used to think there never was a warmer heart than yours。”
“Yes； I fear we are cooling—I see it as well as you；” she sighed mournfully。 “And how madly we loved two months ago！ You were never tired of contemplating me； nor I of contemplating you。 Who could have thought then that by this time my eyes would not seem so very bright to yours； nor your lips so very sweet to mine？ Two months—is it possible？ Yes； ‘tis too true！”
“You sigh； dear； as if you were sorry for it； and that’s a hopeful sign。”
“No。 I don’t sigh for that。 There are other things for me to sigh for； or any other woman in my place。”
“That your chances in life are ruined by marrying in haste an unfortunate man？”
“Why will you force me； Clym； to say bitter things？ I deserve pity as much as you。 As much？I think I deserve it more。 For you can sing！ It would be a strange hour which should catch me singing under such a cloud as this！ Believe me； sweet； I could weep to a degree that would astonish and confound such an elastic mind as yours。 Even had you felt careless about your own affliction； you might have refrained from singing out of sheer pity for mine。 God！ if I were a man in such a position I would curse rather than sing。”
Yeobright placed his hand upon her arm。 “Now； don’t you suppose； my inexperienced girl； that I cannot rebel； in high Promethean fashion； against the gods and fate as well as you。 I have felt more steam and smoke of that sort than you have ever heard of。 But the more I see of life the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly great in its greatest walks； and therefore nothing particularly small in mine of furze…cutting。 If I feel that the greatest blessings vouchsafed to us are not very valuable； how can I feel it to be any great hardship when they are taken away？ So I sing to pass the time。 Have you indeed lost all tenderness for me； that you begrudge me a few cheerful moments？”
“I have still some tenderness left for you。”
“Your words have no longer their old flavour。 And so love dies with good fortune！”
“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 bee of late almost apathetic。 There was a forlorn look about her beautiful eyes which； whether she deserved it or not； would have excited pity in the breast of anyone who had known her during the full flush of her love for Clym。 The feelings of husband and wife varied； in some measure； inversely with their positions。 Clym； the afflicted man； was cheerful； and he even tried to fort her； who had never felt a moment of physical suffering in her whole life。
“e； brighten up； dearest； we shall be all right again。
Some day perhaps I shall see as well as ever。 And I solemnly promise that I’ll leave off cutting furze as soon as I have the power to do anything better。 You cannot seriously wish me to stay idling at home all day？”
“But it is so dreadful—a furze…cutter！ and you a man who have lived about the world； and speak French； and German； and who are fit for what is so much better than this。”
“I suppose when you first saw me and heard about me I was wrapped in a sort of golden halo to your eyes—a man who knew glorious things； and had mixed in brilliant scenes—in short； an adorable； delightful； distracting hero？”
“Yes；” she said； sobbing。
“And now I am a poor fellow in brown leather。”
“Don’t taunt me。 But enough of this。 I will not be depressed any more。 I am going from home this afternoon； unless you greatly object。 There is to be a village picnic—a gipsying； they call it—at East Egdon； and I shall go。”
“To dance？”
“Why not？ You can sing。”
“Well； well； as you will。 Must I e to fetch you？”
“If you return soon enough from your work。 But do not inconvenience yourself about it。 I know the way home； and the heath has no terror for me。”
“And can you cling to gaiety so eagerly as to walk all the way to a village festival in search of it？”
“Now； you don’t like my going alone！ Clym； you are not jealous？”
“No。 But I would e with you if it could give you any pleasure； though； as things stand； perhaps you have too much of me already。 Still； I somehow wish that you did not want to go。 Yes； perhaps I am jealous； and who could be jealous with more reason than I； a half…blind man； over such a woman as you？”
“Don’t think like it。 Let me go； and don’t take all my spirits away！”
“I would rather lose all my own； my sweet wife。 Go and do whatever you like。 Who can forbid your indulgence in any whim？ You have all my heart yet； I believe； and because you bear with me； who am in truth a drag upon you； I owe you thanks。 Yes； go alone and shine。 As for me； I will stick to my doom。 At that kind of meeting people would shun me。 My hook and gloves are like the St。 Lazarus rattle of the leper； warning the world to get out of the way of a sight that would sadden them。” He kissed her； put on his leggings； and went out。
When he was gone she rested her head upon her hands and said to herself； “Two wasted lives—his and mine。 And I am e to this！ Will it drive me out of my mind？”
She cast about for any possible course which offered the least improvement on the existing state of things； and could find none。 She imagined how all those Budmouth ones who should learn what had bee of her would say； “Look at the girl for whom nobody was good enough！” To Eustacia the situation seemed such a mockery of her hopes that death appeared the only door of relief if the satire of Heaven should go much further。
Suddenly she aroused herself and exclaimed； “But I’ll shake it off。 Yes； I WILL shake it off！ No one shall know my suffering。 I’ll be bitterly merry； and ironically gay； and I’ll laugh in derision。 And I’ll begin by going to this dance on the green。”
She ascended to her bedroom and dressed herself with scrupulous care。 To an onlooker her beauty would have made her feelings almost seem reasonable。 The gloomy corner into which accident