The evening came, and Eustacia was still seemingly unconscious of the anniversary.  She had gone indoors after her survey through the glass, and had not been visible since.  As soon as it was quite dark Charley began to build the bonfire, choosing precisely that spot on the bank which Eustacia had chosen at previous times.

When all the surrounding bonfires had burst into existence Charley kindled his, and arranged its fuel so that it should not require tending for some time.  He then went back to the house, and lingered round the door and windows till she should by some means or other learn of his achievement and come out to witness it.  But the shutters were closed, the door remained shut, and no heed whatever seemed to be taken of his performance.  Not liking to call her he went back and replenished the fire, continuing to do this for more than half an hour.  It was not till his stock of fuel had greatly diminished that he went to the back door and sent in to beg that Mrs. Yeobright would open the window-shutters and see the sight outside.

Eustacia, who had been sitting listlessly in the parlour, started up at the intelligence and flung open the shutters.  Facing her on the bank blazed the fire, which at once sent a ruddy glare into the room where she was, and overpowered the candles.

“Well done, Charley!” said Captain Vye from the chimney-corner.  “But I hope it is not my wood that he’s burning...  Ah, it was this time last year that I met with that man Venn, bringing home Thomasin Yeobright—­to be sure it was!  Well, who would have thought that girl’s troubles would have ended so well?  What a snipe you were in that matter, Eustacia!  Has your husband written to you yet?”

“No,” said Eustacia, looking vaguely through the window at the fire, which just then so much engaged her mind that she did not resent her grandfather’s blunt opinion.  She could see Charley’s form on the bank, shovelling and stirring the fire; and there flashed upon her imagination some other form which that fire might call up.

She left the room, put on her garden-bonnet and cloak, and went out.  Reaching the bank, she looked over with a wild curiosity and misgiving, when Charley said to her, with a pleased sense of himself, “I made it o’ purpose for you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she said hastily.  “But I wish you to put it out now.”

“It will soon burn down,” said Charley, rather disappointed.  “Is it not a pity to knock it out?”

“I don’t know,” she musingly answered.

They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, till Charley, perceiving that she did not want to talk to him, moved reluctantly away.

Eustacia remained within the bank looking at the fire, intending to go indoors, yet lingering still.  Had she not by her situation been inclined to hold in indifference all things honoured of the gods and of men she would probably have come away.  But her state was so hopeless that she could play with it.  To have lost is less disturbing than to wonder if we may possibly have won:  and Eustacia could now, like other people at such a stage, take a standing-point outside herself, observe herself as a disinterested spectator, and think what a sport for Heaven this woman Eustacia was.