"Tell all, and I WILL pity you. Was the man in the house with you Wildeve?"
"I cannot tell," she said desperately through her sobbing. "Don't insist further--I cannot tell. I am going from this house. We cannot both stay here."
"You need not go--I will go. You can stay here."
"No, I will dress, and then I will go."
"Where?"
"Where I came from, or ELSEWHERE."
She hastily dressed herself, Yeobright moodily walking up and down the room the whole of the time. At last all her things were on. Her little hands quivered so violently as she held them to her chin to fasten her bonnet that she could not tie the strings, and after a few moments she relinquished the attempt. Seeing this he moved forward and said, "Let me tie them."
She assented in silence, and lifted her chin. For once at least in her life she was totally oblivious of the charm of her attitude. But he was not, and he turned his eyes aside, that he might not be tempted to softness.
The strings were tied; she turned from him. "Do you still prefer going away yourself to my leaving you?" he inquired again.
"I do."
"Very well--let it be. And when you will confess to the man I may pity you."
She flung her shawl about her and went downstairs, leaving him standing in the room.
Eustacia had not long been gone when there came a knock at the door of the bedroom; and Yeobright said, "Well?"
It was the servant; and she replied, "Somebody from Mrs. Wildeve's have called to tell 'ee that the mis'ess and the baby are getting on wonderful well, and the baby's name is to be Eustacia Clementine." And the girl retired.
"What a mockery!" said Clym. "This unhappy marriage of mine to be perpetuated in that child's name!"