“Once when I went to Throope Great Pond to catch effets I seed myself looking up at myself, and I was frightened and jumped back like anything.”

..."If they had only shown signs of meeting my advances half-way how well it might have been done!  But there is no chance.  Shut out!  She must have set him against me.  Can there be beautiful bodies without hearts inside?  I think so.  I would not have done it against a neighbour’s cat on such a fiery day as this!”

“What is it you say?”

“Never again—­never!  Not even if they send for me!”

“You must be a very curious woman to talk like that.”

“O no, not at all,” she said, returning to the boy’s prattle.  “Most people who grow up and have children talk as I do.  When you grow up your mother will talk as I do too.”

“I hope she won’t; because ’tis very bad to talk nonsense.”

“Yes, child; it is nonsense, I suppose.  Are you not nearly spent with the heat?”

“Yes.  But not so much as you be.”

“How do you know?”

“Your face is white and wet, and your head is hanging-down-like.”

“Ah, I am exhausted from inside.”

“Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?” The child in speaking gave to his motion the jerk and limp of an invalid.

“Because I have a burden which is more than I can bear.”

The little boy remained silently pondering, and they tottered on side by side until more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when Mrs. Yeobright, whose weakness plainly increased, said to him, “I must sit down here to rest.”

When she had seated herself he looked long in her face and said, “How funny you draw your breath—­like a lamb when you drive him till he’s nearly done for.  Do you always draw your breath like that?”

“Not always.”  Her voice was now so low as to be scarcely above a whisper.

“You will go to sleep there, I suppose, won’t you?  You have shut your eyes already.”

“No.  I shall not sleep much till—­another day, and then I hope to have a long, long one—­very long.  Now can you tell me if Rimsmoor Pond is dry this summer?”

“Rimsmoor Pond is, but Oker’s Pool isn’t, because he is deep, and is never dry—­’tis just over there.”

“Is the water clear?”

“Yes, middling—­except where the heath-croppers walk into it.”

“Then, take this, and go as fast as you can, and dip me up the clearest you can find.  I am very faint.”

She drew from the small willow reticule that she carried in her hand an old-fashioned china teacup without a handle; it was one of half a dozen of the same sort lying in the reticule, which she had preserved ever since her childhood, and had brought with her today as a small present for Clym and Eustacia.

The boy started on his errand, and soon came back with the water, such as it was.  Mrs. 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.