Summary

Portrait of Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy The Return of the Native — Book 5… (1878)

Eustacia turned, entered the house, and ascended to the front bedroom, where a shaded light was burning. In the bed lay Clym, pale, haggard, wide awake, tossing to one side and to the other, his eyes lit by a hot light, as if the fire in their pupils were burning up their substance.
"Is it you, Eustacia?" he said as she sat down.
"Yes, Clym. I have been down to the gate. The moon is shining beautifully, and there is not a leaf stirring."
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy The Return of the Native — Book 5… (1878)

There escaped from Eustacia one of those shivering sighs which used to shake her like a pestilent blast. She had not yet told.
But Yeobright was too deeply absorbed in the ramblings incidental to his remorseful state to notice her. During his illness he had been continually talking thus. Despair had been added to his original grief by the unfortunate disclosure of the boy who had received the last words of Mrs. Yeobright--words too bitterly uttered in an hour of misapprehension. Then his distress had overwhelmed him, and he longed for death as a field labourer longs for the shade.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy The Return of the Native — Book 5… (1878)

Do you think I should remember all about my mother's death if I were out of my mind? No such good luck. Two months and a half, Thomasin, the last of her life, did my poor mother live alone, distracted and mourning because of me; yet she was unvisited by me, though I was living only six miles off. Two months and a half--seventy-five days did the sun rise and set upon her in that deserted state which a dog didn't deserve! Poor people who had nothing in common with her would have cared for her, and visited her had they known her sickness and loneliness
Source: Wikisource

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature