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diff --git a/old/old/107-8.txt b/old/old/107-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b558a44 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/107-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17563 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Far from the Madding Crowd, by Thomas Hardy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Far from the Madding Crowd + + +Author: Thomas Hardy + + + +Release Date: February, 1994 [eBook #107] +[Most recently updated: January 21, 2016] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD*** + + +E-text prepared by E-text prepared by anonymous Project Gutenberg +volunteers and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD + +by + +THOMAS HARDY + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + Preface + I. Description of Farmer Oak--An Incident + II. Night--The Flock--An Interior--Another Interior + III. A Girl on Horseback--Conversation + IV. Gabriel's Resolve--The Visit--The Mistake + V. Departure of Bathsheba--A Pastoral Tragedy + VI. The Fair--The Journey--The Fire + VII. Recognition--A Timid Girl + VIII. The Malthouse--The Chat--News + IX. The Homestead--A Visitor--Half-Confidences + X. Mistress and Men + XI. Outside the Barracks--Snow--A Meeting + XII. Farmers--A Rule--An Exception + XIII. Sortes Sanctorum--The Valentine + XIV. Effect of the Letter--Sunrise + XV. A Morning Meeting--The Letter Again + XVI. All Saints' and All Souls' + XVII. In the Market-Place + XVIII. Boldwood in Meditation--Regret + XIX. The Sheep-Washing--The Offer + XX. Perplexity--Grinding the Shears--A Quarrel + XXI. Troubles in the Fold--A Message + XXII. The Great Barn and the Sheep-Shearers + XXIII. Eventide--A Second Declaration + XXIV. The Same Night--The Fir Plantation + XXV. The New Acquaintance Described + XXVI. Scene on the Verge of the Hay-Mead + XXVII. Hiving the Bees + XXVIII. The Hollow Amid the Ferns + XXIX. Particulars of a Twilight Walk + XXX. Hot Cheeks and Tearful Eyes + XXXI. Blame--Fury + XXXII. Night--Horses Tramping + XXXIII. In the Sun--A Harbinger + XXXIV. Home Again--A Trickster + XXXV. At an Upper Window + XXXVI. Wealth in Jeopardy--The Revel + XXXVII. The Storm--The Two Together + XXXVIII. Rain--One Solitary Meets Another + XXXIX. Coming Home--A Cry + XL. On Casterbridge Highway + XLI. Suspicion--Fanny Is Sent For + XLII. Joseph and His Burden--Buck's Head + XLIII. Fanny's Revenge + XLIV. Under a Tree--Reaction + XLV. Troy's Romanticism + XLVI. The Gurgoyle: Its Doings + XLVII. Adventures by the Shore + XLVIII. Doubts Arise--Doubts Linger + XLIX. Oak's Advancement--A Great Hope + L. The Sheep Fair--Troy Touches His Wife's Hand + LI. Bathsheba Talks with Her Outrider + LII. Converging Courses + LIII. Concurritur--Horae Momento + LIV. After the Shock + LV. The March Following--"Bathsheba Boldwood" + LVI. Beauty in Loneliness--After All + LVII. A Foggy Night and Morning--Conclusion + + + + + +PREFACE + +In reprinting this story for a new edition I am reminded that it was +in the chapters of "Far from the Madding Crowd," as they appeared +month by month in a popular magazine, that I first ventured to adopt +the word "Wessex" from the pages of early English history, and give +it a fictitious significance as the existing name of the district +once included in that extinct kingdom. The series of novels I +projected being mainly of the kind called local, they seemed to +require a territorial definition of some sort to lend unity to their +scene. Finding that the area of a single county did not afford a +canvas large enough for this purpose, and that there were objections +to an invented name, I disinterred the old one. The press and the +public were kind enough to welcome the fanciful plan, and willingly +joined me in the anachronism of imagining a Wessex population living +under Queen Victoria;--a modern Wessex of railways, the penny post, +mowing and reaping machines, union workhouses, lucifer matches, +labourers who could read and write, and National school children. +But I believe I am correct in stating that, until the existence of +this contemporaneous Wessex was announced in the present story, in +1874, it had never been heard of, and that the expression, "a Wessex +peasant," or "a Wessex custom," would theretofore have been taken to +refer to nothing later in date than the Norman Conquest. + +I did not anticipate that this application of the word to a modern +use would extend outside the chapters of my own chronicles. But the +name was soon taken up elsewhere as a local designation. The first +to do so was the now defunct _Examiner_, which, in the impression +bearing date July 15, 1876, entitled one of its articles "The Wessex +Labourer," the article turning out to be no dissertation on farming +during the Heptarchy, but on the modern peasant of the south-west +counties, and his presentation in these stories. + +Since then the appellation which I had thought to reserve to the +horizons and landscapes of a merely realistic dream-country, has +become more and more popular as a practical definition; and the +dream-country has, by degrees, solidified into a utilitarian region +which people can go to, take a house in, and write to the papers +from. But I ask all good and gentle readers to be so kind as to +forget this, and to refuse steadfastly to believe that there are any +inhabitants of a Victorian Wessex outside the pages of this and the +companion volumes in which they were first discovered. + +Moreover, the village called Weatherbury, wherein the scenes of the +present story of the series are for the most part laid, would perhaps +be hardly discernible by the explorer, without help, in any existing +place nowadays; though at the time, comparatively recent, at which +the tale was written, a sufficient reality to meet the descriptions, +both of backgrounds and personages, might have been traced easily +enough. The church remains, by great good fortune, unrestored and +intact, and a few of the old houses; but the ancient malt-house, +which was formerly so characteristic of the parish, has been pulled +down these twenty years; also most of the thatched and dormered +cottages that were once lifeholds. The game of prisoner's base, +which not so long ago seemed to enjoy a perennial vitality in front +of the worn-out stocks, may, so far as I can say, be entirely unknown +to the rising generation of schoolboys there. The practice of +divination by Bible and key, the regarding of valentines as things of +serious import, the shearing-supper, and the harvest-home, have, too, +nearly disappeared in the wake of the old houses; and with them have +gone, it is said, much of that love of fuddling to which the village +at one time was notoriously prone. The change at the root of this +has been the recent supplanting of the class of stationary cottagers, +who carried on the local traditions and humours, by a population +of more or less migratory labourers, which has led to a break of +continuity in local history, more fatal than any other thing to the +preservation of legend, folk-lore, close inter-social relations, and +eccentric individualities. For these the indispensable conditions +of existence are attachment to the soil of one particular spot by +generation after generation. + +T.H. + +February 1895 + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +DESCRIPTION OF FARMER OAK--AN INCIDENT + + +When Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they +were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were +reduced to chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, +extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch +of the rising sun. + +His Christian name was Gabriel, and on working days he was a young +man of sound judgment, easy motions, proper dress, and general good +character. On Sundays he was a man of misty views, rather given to +postponing, and hampered by his best clothes and umbrella: upon the +whole, one who felt himself to occupy morally that vast middle space +of Laodicean neutrality which lay between the Communion people of +the parish and the drunken section,--that is, he went to church, but +yawned privately by the time the congregation reached the Nicene +creed, and thought of what there would be for dinner when he meant to +be listening to the sermon. Or, to state his character as it stood +in the scale of public opinion, when his friends and critics were in +tantrums, he was considered rather a bad man; when they were pleased, +he was rather a good man; when they were neither, he was a man whose +moral colour was a kind of pepper-and-salt mixture. + +Since he lived six times as many working-days as Sundays, Oak's +appearance in his old clothes was most peculiarly his own--the mental +picture formed by his neighbours in imagining him being always +dressed in that way. He wore a low-crowned felt hat, spread out at +the base by tight jamming upon the head for security in high winds, +and a coat like Dr. Johnson's; his lower extremities being encased +in ordinary leather leggings and boots emphatically large, affording +to each foot a roomy apartment so constructed that any wearer might +stand in a river all day long and know nothing of damp--their maker +being a conscientious man who endeavoured to compensate for any +weakness in his cut by unstinted dimension and solidity. + +Mr. Oak carried about him, by way of watch, what may be called a +small silver clock; in other words, it was a watch as to shape and +intention, and a small clock as to size. This instrument being +several years older than Oak's grandfather, had the peculiarity of +going either too fast or not at all. The smaller of its hands, too, +occasionally slipped round on the pivot, and thus, though the minutes +were told with precision, nobody could be quite certain of the hour +they belonged to. The stopping peculiarity of his watch Oak remedied +by thumps and shakes, and he escaped any evil consequences from the +other two defects by constant comparisons with and observations of +the sun and stars, and by pressing his face close to the glass of his +neighbours' windows, till he could discern the hour marked by the +green-faced timekeepers within. It may be mentioned that Oak's fob +being difficult of access, by reason of its somewhat high situation +in the waistband of his trousers (which also lay at a remote height +under his waistcoat), the watch was as a necessity pulled out by +throwing the body to one side, compressing the mouth and face to a +mere mass of ruddy flesh on account of the exertion required, and +drawing up the watch by its chain, like a bucket from a well. + +But some thoughtful persons, who had seen him walking across one +of his fields on a certain December morning--sunny and exceedingly +mild--might have regarded Gabriel Oak in other aspects than these. +In his face one might notice that many of the hues and curves of +youth had tarried on to manhood: there even remained in his remoter +crannies some relics of the boy. His height and breadth would +have been sufficient to make his presence imposing, had they been +exhibited with due consideration. But there is a way some men have, +rural and urban alike, for which the mind is more responsible than +flesh and sinew: it is a way of curtailing their dimensions by their +manner of showing them. And from a quiet modesty that would have +become a vestal, which seemed continually to impress upon him that he +had no great claim on the world's room, Oak walked unassumingly and +with a faintly perceptible bend, yet distinct from a bowing of the +shoulders. This may be said to be a defect in an individual if he +depends for his valuation more upon his appearance than upon his +capacity to wear well, which Oak did not. + +He had just reached the time of life at which "young" is ceasing to +be the prefix of "man" in speaking of one. He was at the brightest +period of masculine growth, for his intellect and his emotions were +clearly separated: he had passed the time during which the influence +of youth indiscriminately mingles them in the character of impulse, +and he had not yet arrived at the stage wherein they become united +again, in the character of prejudice, by the influence of a wife and +family. In short, he was twenty-eight, and a bachelor. + +The field he was in this morning sloped to a ridge called Norcombe +Hill. Through a spur of this hill ran the highway between Emminster +and Chalk-Newton. Casually glancing over the hedge, Oak saw coming +down the incline before him an ornamental spring waggon, painted +yellow and gaily marked, drawn by two horses, a waggoner walking +alongside bearing a whip perpendicularly. The waggon was laden with +household goods and window plants, and on the apex of the whole sat +a woman, young and attractive. Gabriel had not beheld the sight for +more than half a minute, when the vehicle was brought to a standstill +just beneath his eyes. + +"The tailboard of the waggon is gone, Miss," said the waggoner. + +"Then I heard it fall," said the girl, in a soft, though not +particularly low voice. "I heard a noise I could not account for +when we were coming up the hill." + +"I'll run back." + +"Do," she answered. + +The sensible horses stood--perfectly still, and the waggoner's steps +sank fainter and fainter in the distance. + +The girl on the summit of the load sat motionless, surrounded by +tables and chairs with their legs upwards, backed by an oak settle, +and ornamented in front by pots of geraniums, myrtles, and cactuses, +together with a caged canary--all probably from the windows of the +house just vacated. There was also a cat in a willow basket, from +the partly-opened lid of which she gazed with half-closed eyes, and +affectionately surveyed the small birds around. + +The handsome girl waited for some time idly in her place, and the +only sound heard in the stillness was the hopping of the canary up +and down the perches of its prison. Then she looked attentively +downwards. It was not at the bird, nor at the cat; it was at an +oblong package tied in paper, and lying between them. She turned her +head to learn if the waggoner were coming. He was not yet in sight; +and her eyes crept back to the package, her thoughts seeming to run +upon what was inside it. At length she drew the article into her +lap, and untied the paper covering; a small swing looking-glass was +disclosed, in which she proceeded to survey herself attentively. She +parted her lips and smiled. + +It was a fine morning, and the sun lighted up to a scarlet glow the +crimson jacket she wore, and painted a soft lustre upon her bright +face and dark hair. The myrtles, geraniums, and cactuses packed +around her were fresh and green, and at such a leafless season they +invested the whole concern of horses, waggon, furniture, and girl +with a peculiar vernal charm. What possessed her to indulge in +such a performance in the sight of the sparrows, blackbirds, and +unperceived farmer who were alone its spectators,--whether the smile +began as a factitious one, to test her capacity in that art,--nobody +knows; it ended certainly in a real smile. She blushed at herself, +and seeing her reflection blush, blushed the more. + +The change from the customary spot and necessary occasion of such an +act--from the dressing hour in a bedroom to a time of travelling out +of doors--lent to the idle deed a novelty it did not intrinsically +possess. The picture was a delicate one. Woman's prescriptive +infirmity had stalked into the sunlight, which had clothed it in the +freshness of an originality. A cynical inference was irresistible by +Gabriel Oak as he regarded the scene, generous though he fain would +have been. There was no necessity whatever for her looking in the +glass. She did not adjust her hat, or pat her hair, or press a +dimple into shape, or do one thing to signify that any such intention +had been her motive in taking up the glass. She simply observed +herself as a fair product of Nature in the feminine kind, her +thoughts seeming to glide into far-off though likely dramas in which +men would play a part--vistas of probable triumphs--the smiles being +of a phase suggesting that hearts were imagined as lost and won. +Still, this was but conjecture, and the whole series of actions was +so idly put forth as to make it rash to assert that intention had any +part in them at all. + +The waggoner's steps were heard returning. She put the glass in the +paper, and the whole again into its place. + +When the waggon had passed on, Gabriel withdrew from his point of +espial, and descending into the road, followed the vehicle to the +turnpike-gate some way beyond the bottom of the hill, where the +object of his contemplation now halted for the payment of toll. +About twenty steps still remained between him and the gate, when he +heard a dispute. It was a difference concerning twopence between the +persons with the waggon and the man at the toll-bar. + +"Mis'ess's niece is upon the top of the things, and she says that's +enough that I've offered ye, you great miser, and she won't pay any +more." These were the waggoner's words. + +"Very well; then mis'ess's niece can't pass," said the turnpike-keeper, +closing the gate. + +Oak looked from one to the other of the disputants, and fell into +a reverie. There was something in the tone of twopence remarkably +insignificant. Threepence had a definite value as money--it was an +appreciable infringement on a day's wages, and, as such, a higgling +matter; but twopence--"Here," he said, stepping forward and handing +twopence to the gatekeeper; "let the young woman pass." He looked up +at her then; she heard his words, and looked down. + +Gabriel's features adhered throughout their form so exactly to the +middle line between the beauty of St. John and the ugliness of Judas +Iscariot, as represented in a window of the church he attended, that +not a single lineament could be selected and called worthy either of +distinction or notoriety. The red-jacketed and dark-haired maiden +seemed to think so too, for she carelessly glanced over him, and told +her man to drive on. She might have looked her thanks to Gabriel on +a minute scale, but she did not speak them; more probably she felt +none, for in gaining her a passage he had lost her her point, and we +know how women take a favour of that kind. + +The gatekeeper surveyed the retreating vehicle. "That's a +handsome maid," he said to Oak. + +"But she has her faults," said Gabriel. + +"True, farmer." + +"And the greatest of them is--well, what it is always." + +"Beating people down? ay, 'tis so." + +"O no." + +"What, then?" + +Gabriel, perhaps a little piqued by the comely traveller's +indifference, glanced back to where he had witnessed her performance +over the hedge, and said, "Vanity." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +NIGHT--THE FLOCK--AN INTERIOR--ANOTHER INTERIOR + + +It was nearly midnight on the eve of St. Thomas's, the shortest day +in the year. A desolating wind wandered from the north over the hill +whereon Oak had watched the yellow waggon and its occupant in the +sunshine of a few days earlier. + +Norcombe Hill--not far from lonely Toller-Down--was one of the spots +which suggest to a passer-by that he is in the presence of a shape +approaching the indestructible as nearly as any to be found on +earth. It was a featureless convexity of chalk and soil--an ordinary +specimen of those smoothly-outlined protuberances of the globe which +may remain undisturbed on some great day of confusion, when far +grander heights and dizzy granite precipices topple down. + +The hill was covered on its northern side by an ancient and decaying +plantation of beeches, whose upper verge formed a line over the +crest, fringing its arched curve against the sky, like a mane. +To-night these trees sheltered the southern slope from the keenest +blasts, which smote the wood and floundered through it with a sound +as of grumbling, or gushed over its crowning boughs in a weakened +moan. The dry leaves in the ditch simmered and boiled in the same +breezes, a tongue of air occasionally ferreting out a few, and +sending them spinning across the grass. A group or two of the latest +in date amongst the dead multitude had remained till this very +mid-winter time on the twigs which bore them and in falling rattled +against the trunks with smart taps. + +Between this half-wooded half-naked hill, and the vague still horizon +that its summit indistinctly commanded, was a mysterious sheet of +fathomless shade--the sounds from which suggested that what it +concealed bore some reduced resemblance to features here. The thin +grasses, more or less coating the hill, were touched by the wind in +breezes of differing powers, and almost of differing natures--one +rubbing the blades heavily, another raking them piercingly, another +brushing them like a soft broom. The instinctive act of humankind +was to stand and listen, and learn how the trees on the right and the +trees on the left wailed or chaunted to each other in the regular +antiphonies of a cathedral choir; how hedges and other shapes to +leeward then caught the note, lowering it to the tenderest sob; and +how the hurrying gust then plunged into the south, to be heard no +more. + +The sky was clear--remarkably clear--and the twinkling of all the +stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse. +The North Star was directly in the wind's eye, and since evening the +Bear had swung round it outwardly to the east, till he was now at +a right angle with the meridian. A difference of colour in the +stars--oftener read of than seen in England--was really perceptible +here. The sovereign brilliancy of Sirius pierced the eye with a +steely glitter, the star called Capella was yellow, Aldebaran and +Betelgueux shone with a fiery red. + +To persons standing alone on a hill during a clear midnight such as +this, the roll of the world eastward is almost a palpable movement. +The sensation may be caused by the panoramic glide of the stars past +earthly objects, which is perceptible in a few minutes of stillness, +or by the better outlook upon space that a hill affords, or by the +wind, or by the solitude; but whatever be its origin, the impression +of riding along is vivid and abiding. The poetry of motion is a +phrase much in use, and to enjoy the epic form of that gratification +it is necessary to stand on a hill at a small hour of the night, +and, having first expanded with a sense of difference from the mass +of civilised mankind, who are dreamwrapt and disregardful of all +such proceedings at this time, long and quietly watch your stately +progress through the stars. After such a nocturnal reconnoitre it is +hard to get back to earth, and to believe that the consciousness of +such majestic speeding is derived from a tiny human frame. + +Suddenly an unexpected series of sounds began to be heard in this +place up against the sky. They had a clearness which was to be found +nowhere in the wind, and a sequence which was to be found nowhere in +nature. They were the notes of Farmer Oak's flute. + +The tune was not floating unhindered into the open air: it seemed +muffled in some way, and was altogether too curtailed in power to +spread high or wide. It came from the direction of a small dark +object under the plantation hedge--a shepherd's hut--now presenting +an outline to which an uninitiated person might have been puzzled +to attach either meaning or use. + +The image as a whole was that of a small Noah's Ark on a small +Ararat, allowing the traditionary outlines and general form of +the Ark which are followed by toy-makers--and by these means are +established in men's imaginations among their firmest, because +earliest impressions--to pass as an approximate pattern. The hut +stood on little wheels, which raised its floor about a foot from the +ground. Such shepherds' huts are dragged into the fields when the +lambing season comes on, to shelter the shepherd in his enforced +nightly attendance. + +It was only latterly that people had begun to call Gabriel "Farmer" +Oak. During the twelvemonth preceding this time he had been enabled +by sustained efforts of industry and chronic good spirits to lease +the small sheep-farm of which Norcombe Hill was a portion, and stock +it with two hundred sheep. Previously he had been a bailiff for a +short time, and earlier still a shepherd only, having from his +childhood assisted his father in tending the flocks of large +proprietors, till old Gabriel sank to rest. + +This venture, unaided and alone, into the paths of farming as master +and not as man, with an advance of sheep not yet paid for, was a +critical juncture with Gabriel Oak, and he recognised his position +clearly. The first movement in his new progress was the lambing of +his ewes, and sheep having been his speciality from his youth, he +wisely refrained from deputing the task of tending them at this +season to a hireling or a novice. + +The wind continued to beat about the corners of the hut, but the +flute-playing ceased. A rectangular space of light appeared in the +side of the hut, and in the opening the outline of Farmer Oak's +figure. He carried a lantern in his hand, and closing the door +behind him, came forward and busied himself about this nook of the +field for nearly twenty minutes, the lantern light appearing and +disappearing here and there, and brightening him or darkening him +as he stood before or behind it. + +Oak's motions, though they had a quiet-energy, were slow, and their +deliberateness accorded well with his occupation. Fitness being the +basis of beauty, nobody could have denied that his steady swings and +turns in and about the flock had elements of grace. Yet, although if +occasion demanded he could do or think a thing with as mercurial a +dash as can the men of towns who are more to the manner born, his +special power, morally, physically, and mentally, was static, owing +little or nothing to momentum as a rule. + +A close examination of the ground hereabout, even by the wan +starlight only, revealed how a portion of what would have been +casually called a wild slope had been appropriated by Farmer Oak for +his great purpose this winter. Detached hurdles thatched with straw +were stuck into the ground at various scattered points, amid and +under which the whitish forms of his meek ewes moved and rustled. +The ring of the sheep-bell, which had been silent during his absence, +recommenced, in tones that had more mellowness than clearness, owing +to an increasing growth of surrounding wool. This continued till Oak +withdrew again from the flock. He returned to the hut, bringing in +his arms a new-born lamb, consisting of four legs large enough for +a full-grown sheep, united by a seemingly inconsiderable membrane +about half the substance of the legs collectively, which constituted +the animal's entire body just at present. + +The little speck of life he placed on a wisp of hay before the small +stove, where a can of milk was simmering. Oak extinguished the +lantern by blowing into it and then pinching the snuff, the cot being +lighted by a candle suspended by a twisted wire. A rather hard +couch, formed of a few corn sacks thrown carelessly down, covered +half the floor of this little habitation, and here the young man +stretched himself along, loosened his woollen cravat, and closed his +eyes. In about the time a person unaccustomed to bodily labour would +have decided upon which side to lie, Farmer Oak was asleep. + +The inside of the hut, as it now presented itself, was cosy and +alluring, and the scarlet handful of fire in addition to the candle, +reflecting its own genial colour upon whatever it could reach, flung +associations of enjoyment even over utensils and tools. In the +corner stood the sheep-crook, and along a shelf at one side were +ranged bottles and canisters of the simple preparations pertaining to +ovine surgery and physic; spirits of wine, turpentine, tar, magnesia, +ginger, and castor-oil being the chief. On a triangular shelf across +the corner stood bread, bacon, cheese, and a cup for ale or cider, +which was supplied from a flagon beneath. Beside the provisions lay +the flute, whose notes had lately been called forth by the lonely +watcher to beguile a tedious hour. The house was ventilated by two +round holes, like the lights of a ship's cabin, with wood slides. + +The lamb, revived by the warmth began to bleat, and the sound entered +Gabriel's ears and brain with an instant meaning, as expected +sounds will. Passing from the profoundest sleep to the most alert +wakefulness with the same ease that had accompanied the reverse +operation, he looked at his watch, found that the hour-hand had +shifted again, put on his hat, took the lamb in his arms, and carried +it into the darkness. After placing the little creature with its +mother, he stood and carefully examined the sky, to ascertain the +time of night from the altitudes of the stars. + +The Dog-star and Aldebaran, pointing to the restless Pleiades, were +half-way up the Southern sky, and between them hung Orion, which +gorgeous constellation never burnt more vividly than now, as it +soared forth above the rim of the landscape. Castor and Pollux with +their quiet shine were almost on the meridian: the barren and gloomy +Square of Pegasus was creeping round to the north-west; far away +through the plantation Vega sparkled like a lamp suspended amid the +leafless trees, and Cassiopeia's chair stood daintily poised on the +uppermost boughs. + +"One o'clock," said Gabriel. + +Being a man not without a frequent consciousness that there was some +charm in this life he led, he stood still after looking at the sky +as a useful instrument, and regarded it in an appreciative spirit, +as a work of art superlatively beautiful. For a moment he seemed +impressed with the speaking loneliness of the scene, or rather with +the complete abstraction from all its compass of the sights and +sounds of man. Human shapes, interferences, troubles, and joys +were all as if they were not, and there seemed to be on the shaded +hemisphere of the globe no sentient being save himself; he could +fancy them all gone round to the sunny side. + +Occupied thus, with eyes stretched afar, Oak gradually perceived +that what he had previously taken to be a star low down behind the +outskirts of the plantation was in reality no such thing. It was an +artificial light, almost close at hand. + +To find themselves utterly alone at night where company is desirable +and expected makes some people fearful; but a case more trying by +far to the nerves is to discover some mysterious companionship when +intuition, sensation, memory, analogy, testimony, probability, +induction--every kind of evidence in the logician's list--have united +to persuade consciousness that it is quite in isolation. + +Farmer Oak went towards the plantation and pushed through its lower +boughs to the windy side. A dim mass under the slope reminded him +that a shed occupied a place here, the site being a cutting into the +slope of the hill, so that at its back part the roof was almost level +with the ground. In front it was formed of board nailed to posts and +covered with tar as a preservative. Through crevices in the roof and +side spread streaks and dots of light, a combination of which made +the radiance that had attracted him. Oak stepped up behind, where, +leaning down upon the roof and putting his eye close to a hole, he +could see into the interior clearly. + +The place contained two women and two cows. By the side of the +latter a steaming bran-mash stood in a bucket. One of the women was +past middle age. Her companion was apparently young and graceful; +he could form no decided opinion upon her looks, her position being +almost beneath his eye, so that he saw her in a bird's-eye view, as +Milton's Satan first saw Paradise. She wore no bonnet or hat, but +had enveloped herself in a large cloak, which was carelessly flung +over her head as a covering. + +"There, now we'll go home," said the elder of the two, resting her +knuckles upon her hips, and looking at their goings-on as a whole. +"I do hope Daisy will fetch round again now. I have never been more +frightened in my life, but I don't mind breaking my rest if she +recovers." + +The young woman, whose eyelids were apparently inclined to fall +together on the smallest provocation of silence, yawned without +parting her lips to any inconvenient extent, whereupon Gabriel caught +the infection and slightly yawned in sympathy. + +"I wish we were rich enough to pay a man to do these things," she +said. + +"As we are not, we must do them ourselves," said the other; "for you +must help me if you stay." + +"Well, my hat is gone, however," continued the younger. "It went over +the hedge, I think. The idea of such a slight wind catching it." + +The cow standing erect was of the Devon breed, and was encased in a +tight warm hide of rich Indian red, as absolutely uniform from eyes +to tail as if the animal had been dipped in a dye of that colour, her +long back being mathematically level. The other was spotted, grey +and white. Beside her Oak now noticed a little calf about a day old, +looking idiotically at the two women, which showed that it had not +long been accustomed to the phenomenon of eyesight, and often turning +to the lantern, which it apparently mistook for the moon, inherited +instinct having as yet had little time for correction by experience. +Between the sheep and the cows Lucina had been busy on Norcombe Hill +lately. + +"I think we had better send for some oatmeal," said the elder woman; +"there's no more bran." + +"Yes, aunt; and I'll ride over for it as soon as it is light." + +"But there's no side-saddle." + +"I can ride on the other: trust me." + +Oak, upon hearing these remarks, became more curious to observe her +features, but this prospect being denied him by the hooding effect of +the cloak, and by his aerial position, he felt himself drawing upon +his fancy for their details. In making even horizontal and clear +inspections we colour and mould according to the wants within us +whatever our eyes bring in. Had Gabriel been able from the first to +get a distinct view of her countenance, his estimate of it as very +handsome or slightly so would have been as his soul required a +divinity at the moment or was ready supplied with one. Having for +some time known the want of a satisfactory form to fill an increasing +void within him, his position moreover affording the widest scope for +his fancy, he painted her a beauty. + +By one of those whimsical coincidences in which Nature, like a busy +mother, seems to spare a moment from her unremitting labours to turn +and make her children smile, the girl now dropped the cloak, and +forth tumbled ropes of black hair over a red jacket. Oak knew +her instantly as the heroine of the yellow waggon, myrtles, and +looking-glass: prosily, as the woman who owed him twopence. + +They placed the calf beside its mother again, took up the lantern, +and went out, the light sinking down the hill till it was no more +than a nebula. Gabriel Oak returned to his flock. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A GIRL ON HORSEBACK--CONVERSATION + + +The sluggish day began to break. Even its position terrestrially is +one of the elements of a new interest, and for no particular reason +save that the incident of the night had occurred there Oak went again +into the plantation. Lingering and musing here, he heard the steps of +a horse at the foot of the hill, and soon there appeared in view an +auburn pony with a girl on its back, ascending by the path leading +past the cattle-shed. She was the young woman of the night before. +Gabriel instantly thought of the hat she had mentioned as having +lost in the wind; possibly she had come to look for it. He hastily +scanned the ditch and after walking about ten yards along it found +the hat among the leaves. Gabriel took it in his hand and returned +to his hut. Here he ensconced himself, and peeped through the +loophole in the direction of the rider's approach. + +She came up and looked around--then on the other side of the hedge. +Gabriel was about to advance and restore the missing article when +an unexpected performance induced him to suspend the action for +the present. The path, after passing the cowshed, bisected the +plantation. It was not a bridle-path--merely a pedestrian's track, +and the boughs spread horizontally at a height not greater than seven +feet above the ground, which made it impossible to ride erect beneath +them. The girl, who wore no riding-habit, looked around for a +moment, as if to assure herself that all humanity was out of view, +then dexterously dropped backwards flat upon the pony's back, her +head over its tail, her feet against its shoulders, and her eyes to +the sky. The rapidity of her glide into this position was that of +a kingfisher--its noiselessness that of a hawk. Gabriel's eyes had +scarcely been able to follow her. The tall lank pony seemed used to +such doings, and ambled along unconcerned. Thus she passed under the +level boughs. + +The performer seemed quite at home anywhere between a horse's head +and its tail, and the necessity for this abnormal attitude having +ceased with the passage of the plantation, she began to adopt +another, even more obviously convenient than the first. She had +no side-saddle, and it was very apparent that a firm seat upon the +smooth leather beneath her was unattainable sideways. Springing to +her accustomed perpendicular like a bowed sapling, and satisfying +herself that nobody was in sight, she seated herself in the manner +demanded by the saddle, though hardly expected of the woman, and +trotted off in the direction of Tewnell Mill. + +Oak was amused, perhaps a little astonished, and hanging up the hat +in his hut, went again among his ewes. An hour passed, the girl +returned, properly seated now, with a bag of bran in front of +her. On nearing the cattle-shed she was met by a boy bringing a +milking-pail, who held the reins of the pony whilst she slid off. +The boy led away the horse, leaving the pail with the young woman. + +Soon soft spirts alternating with loud spirts came in regular +succession from within the shed, the obvious sounds of a person +milking a cow. Gabriel took the lost hat in his hand, and waited +beside the path she would follow in leaving the hill. + +She came, the pail in one hand, hanging against her knee. The left +arm was extended as a balance, enough of it being shown bare to make +Oak wish that the event had happened in the summer, when the whole +would have been revealed. There was a bright air and manner about +her now, by which she seemed to imply that the desirability of her +existence could not be questioned; and this rather saucy assumption +failed in being offensive because a beholder felt it to be, upon the +whole, true. Like exceptional emphasis in the tone of a genius, +that which would have made mediocrity ridiculous was an addition to +recognised power. It was with some surprise that she saw Gabriel's +face rising like the moon behind the hedge. + +The adjustment of the farmer's hazy conceptions of her charms to the +portrait of herself she now presented him with was less a diminution +than a difference. The starting-point selected by the judgment was +her height. She seemed tall, but the pail was a small one, and the +hedge diminutive; hence, making allowance for error by comparison +with these, she could have been not above the height to be chosen by +women as best. All features of consequence were severe and regular. +It may have been observed by persons who go about the shires with +eyes for beauty, that in Englishwoman a classically-formed face is +seldom found to be united with a figure of the same pattern, the +highly-finished features being generally too large for the remainder +of the frame; that a graceful and proportionate figure of eight heads +usually goes off into random facial curves. Without throwing a +Nymphean tissue over a milkmaid, let it be said that here criticism +checked itself as out of place, and looked at her proportions with a +long consciousness of pleasure. From the contours of her figure in +its upper part, she must have had a beautiful neck and shoulders; but +since her infancy nobody had ever seen them. Had she been put into +a low dress she would have run and thrust her head into a bush. Yet +she was not a shy girl by any means; it was merely her instinct to +draw the line dividing the seen from the unseen higher than they do +it in towns. + +That the girl's thoughts hovered about her face and form as soon as +she caught Oak's eyes conning the same page was natural, and almost +certain. The self-consciousness shown would have been vanity if +a little more pronounced, dignity if a little less. Rays of male +vision seem to have a tickling effect upon virgin faces in rural +districts; she brushed hers with her hand, as if Gabriel had been +irritating its pink surface by actual touch, and the free air of her +previous movements was reduced at the same time to a chastened phase +of itself. Yet it was the man who blushed, the maid not at all. + +"I found a hat," said Oak. + +"It is mine," said she, and, from a sense of proportion, kept down to +a small smile an inclination to laugh distinctly: "it flew away last +night." + +"One o'clock this morning?" + +"Well--it was." She was surprised. "How did you know?" she said. + +"I was here." + +"You are Farmer Oak, are you not?" + +"That or thereabouts. I'm lately come to this place." + +"A large farm?" she inquired, casting her eyes round, and swinging +back her hair, which was black in the shaded hollows of its mass; but +it being now an hour past sunrise the rays touched its prominent +curves with a colour of their own. + +"No; not large. About a hundred." (In speaking of farms the word +"acres" is omitted by the natives, by analogy to such old expressions +as "a stag of ten.") + +"I wanted my hat this morning," she went on. "I had to ride to +Tewnell Mill." + +"Yes you had." + +"How do you know?" + +"I saw you." + +"Where?" she inquired, a misgiving bringing every muscle of her +lineaments and frame to a standstill. + +"Here--going through the plantation, and all down the hill," said +Farmer Oak, with an aspect excessively knowing with regard to some +matter in his mind, as he gazed at a remote point in the direction +named, and then turned back to meet his colloquist's eyes. + +A perception caused him to withdraw his own eyes from hers as +suddenly as if he had been caught in a theft. Recollection of the +strange antics she had indulged in when passing through the trees was +succeeded in the girl by a nettled palpitation, and that by a hot +face. It was a time to see a woman redden who was not given to +reddening as a rule; not a point in the milkmaid but was of the +deepest rose-colour. From the Maiden's Blush, through all varieties +of the Provence down to the Crimson Tuscany, the countenance of Oak's +acquaintance quickly graduated; whereupon he, in considerateness, +turned away his head. + +The sympathetic man still looked the other way, and wondered when she +would recover coolness sufficient to justify him in facing her again. +He heard what seemed to be the flitting of a dead leaf upon the +breeze, and looked. She had gone away. + +With an air between that of Tragedy and Comedy Gabriel returned to +his work. + +Five mornings and evenings passed. The young woman came regularly to +milk the healthy cow or to attend to the sick one, but never allowed +her vision to stray in the direction of Oak's person. His want of +tact had deeply offended her--not by seeing what he could not help, +but by letting her know that he had seen it. For, as without law +there is no sin, without eyes there is no indecorum; and she appeared +to feel that Gabriel's espial had made her an indecorous woman +without her own connivance. It was food for great regret with him; +it was also a _contretemps_ which touched into life a latent heat he +had experienced in that direction. + +The acquaintanceship might, however, have ended in a slow forgetting, +but for an incident which occurred at the end of the same week. One +afternoon it began to freeze, and the frost increased with evening, +which drew on like a stealthy tightening of bonds. It was a time +when in cottages the breath of the sleepers freezes to the sheets; +when round the drawing-room fire of a thick-walled mansion the +sitters' backs are cold, even whilst their faces are all aglow. Many +a small bird went to bed supperless that night among the bare boughs. + +As the milking-hour drew near, Oak kept his usual watch upon the +cowshed. At last he felt cold, and shaking an extra quantity of +bedding round the yearling ewes he entered the hut and heaped more +fuel upon the stove. The wind came in at the bottom of the door, +and to prevent it Oak laid a sack there and wheeled the cot round a +little more to the south. Then the wind spouted in at a ventilating +hole--of which there was one on each side of the hut. + +Gabriel had always known that when the fire was lighted and the door +closed one of these must be kept open--that chosen being always on +the side away from the wind. Closing the slide to windward, he +turned to open the other; on second thoughts the farmer considered +that he would first sit down leaving both closed for a minute or two, +till the temperature of the hut was a little raised. He sat down. + +His head began to ache in an unwonted manner, and, fancying himself +weary by reason of the broken rests of the preceding nights, Oak +decided to get up, open the slide, and then allow himself to fall +asleep. He fell asleep, however, without having performed the +necessary preliminary. + +How long he remained unconscious Gabriel never knew. During the +first stages of his return to perception peculiar deeds seemed to be +in course of enactment. His dog was howling, his head was aching +fearfully--somebody was pulling him about, hands were loosening his +neckerchief. + +On opening his eyes he found that evening had sunk to dusk in +a strange manner of unexpectedness. The young girl with the +remarkably pleasant lips and white teeth was beside him. More than +this--astonishingly more--his head was upon her lap, his face and +neck were disagreeably wet, and her fingers were unbuttoning his +collar. + +"Whatever is the matter?" said Oak, vacantly. + +She seemed to experience mirth, but of too insignificant a kind to +start enjoyment. + +"Nothing now," she answered, "since you are not dead. It is a wonder +you were not suffocated in this hut of yours." + +"Ah, the hut!" murmured Gabriel. "I gave ten pounds for that hut. +But I'll sell it, and sit under thatched hurdles as they did in old +times, and curl up to sleep in a lock of straw! It played me nearly +the same trick the other day!" Gabriel, by way of emphasis, brought +down his fist upon the floor. + +"It was not exactly the fault of the hut," she observed in a tone +which showed her to be that novelty among women--one who finished a +thought before beginning the sentence which was to convey it. "You +should, I think, have considered, and not have been so foolish as to +leave the slides closed." + +"Yes I suppose I should," said Oak, absently. He was endeavouring to +catch and appreciate the sensation of being thus with her, his head +upon her dress, before the event passed on into the heap of bygone +things. He wished she knew his impressions; but he would as soon +have thought of carrying an odour in a net as of attempting to convey +the intangibilities of his feeling in the coarse meshes of language. +So he remained silent. + +She made him sit up, and then Oak began wiping his face and shaking +himself like a Samson. "How can I thank 'ee?" he said at last, +gratefully, some of the natural rusty red having returned to his +face. + +"Oh, never mind that," said the girl, smiling, and allowing her smile +to hold good for Gabriel's next remark, whatever that might prove to +be. + +"How did you find me?" + +"I heard your dog howling and scratching at the door of the hut when +I came to the milking (it was so lucky, Daisy's milking is almost +over for the season, and I shall not come here after this week or the +next). The dog saw me, and jumped over to me, and laid hold of my +skirt. I came across and looked round the hut the very first thing +to see if the slides were closed. My uncle has a hut like this one, +and I have heard him tell his shepherd not to go to sleep without +leaving a slide open. I opened the door, and there you were like +dead. I threw the milk over you, as there was no water, forgetting +it was warm, and no use." + +"I wonder if I should have died?" Gabriel said, in a low voice, which +was rather meant to travel back to himself than to her. + +"Oh no!" the girl replied. She seemed to prefer a less tragic +probability; to have saved a man from death involved talk that should +harmonise with the dignity of such a deed--and she shunned it. + +"I believe you saved my life, Miss--I don't know your name. I know +your aunt's, but not yours." + +"I would just as soon not tell it--rather not. There is no reason +either why I should, as you probably will never have much to do with +me." + +"Still, I should like to know." + +"You can inquire at my aunt's--she will tell you." + +"My name is Gabriel Oak." + +"And mine isn't. You seem fond of yours in speaking it so +decisively, Gabriel Oak." + +"You see, it is the only one I shall ever have, and I must make the +most of it." + +"I always think mine sounds odd and disagreeable." + +"I should think you might soon get a new one." + +"Mercy!--how many opinions you keep about you concerning other +people, Gabriel Oak." + +"Well, Miss--excuse the words--I thought you would like them. But I +can't match you, I know, in mapping out my mind upon my tongue. I +never was very clever in my inside. But I thank you. Come, give me +your hand." + +She hesitated, somewhat disconcerted at Oak's old-fashioned earnest +conclusion to a dialogue lightly carried on. "Very well," she +said, and gave him her hand, compressing her lips to a demure +impassivity. He held it but an instant, and in his fear of being too +demonstrative, swerved to the opposite extreme, touching her fingers +with the lightness of a small-hearted person. + +"I am sorry," he said the instant after. + +"What for?" + +"Letting your hand go so quick." + +"You may have it again if you like; there it is." She gave him her +hand again. + +Oak held it longer this time--indeed, curiously long. "How soft it +is--being winter time, too--not chapped or rough or anything!" he +said. + +"There--that's long enough," said she, though without pulling it +away. "But I suppose you are thinking you would like to kiss it? You +may if you want to." + +"I wasn't thinking of any such thing," said Gabriel, simply; "but I +will--" + +"That you won't!" She snatched back her hand. + +Gabriel felt himself guilty of another want of tact. + +"Now find out my name," she said, teasingly; and withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +GABRIEL'S RESOLVE--THE VISIT--THE MISTAKE + + +The only superiority in women that is tolerable to the rival sex is, +as a rule, that of the unconscious kind; but a superiority which +recognizes itself may sometimes please by suggesting possibilities +of capture to the subordinated man. + +This well-favoured and comely girl soon made appreciable inroads upon +the emotional constitution of young Farmer Oak. + +Love, being an extremely exacting usurer (a sense of exorbitant +profit, spiritually, by an exchange of hearts, being at the bottom of +pure passions, as that of exorbitant profit, bodily or materially, +is at the bottom of those of lower atmosphere), every morning Oak's +feelings were as sensitive as the money-market in calculations upon +his chances. His dog waited for his meals in a way so like that in +which Oak waited for the girl's presence, that the farmer was quite +struck with the resemblance, felt it lowering, and would not look at +the dog. However, he continued to watch through the hedge for her +regular coming, and thus his sentiments towards her were deepened +without any corresponding effect being produced upon herself. Oak +had nothing finished and ready to say as yet, and not being able to +frame love phrases which end where they begin; passionate tales-- + + + --Full of sound and fury + --Signifying nothing-- + + +he said no word at all. + +By making inquiries he found that the girl's name was Bathsheba +Everdene, and that the cow would go dry in about seven days. He +dreaded the eighth day. + +At last the eighth day came. The cow had ceased to give milk for +that year, and Bathsheba Everdene came up the hill no more. Gabriel +had reached a pitch of existence he never could have anticipated +a short time before. He liked saying "Bathsheba" as a private +enjoyment instead of whistling; turned over his taste to black hair, +though he had sworn by brown ever since he was a boy, isolated +himself till the space he filled in the public eye was contemptibly +small. Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness. Marriage +transforms a distraction into a support, the power of which should +be, and happily often is, in direct proportion to the degree of +imbecility it supplants. Oak began now to see light in this +direction, and said to himself, "I'll make her my wife, or upon my +soul I shall be good for nothing!" + +All this while he was perplexing himself about an errand on which he +might consistently visit the cottage of Bathsheba's aunt. + +He found his opportunity in the death of a ewe, mother of a living +lamb. On a day which had a summer face and a winter constitution--a +fine January morning, when there was just enough blue sky visible +to make cheerfully-disposed people wish for more, and an occasional +gleam of silvery sunshine, Oak put the lamb into a respectable Sunday +basket, and stalked across the fields to the house of Mrs. Hurst, the +aunt--George, the dog walking behind, with a countenance of great +concern at the serious turn pastoral affairs seemed to be taking. + +Gabriel had watched the blue wood-smoke curling from the chimney with +strange meditation. At evening he had fancifully traced it down the +chimney to the spot of its origin--seen the hearth and Bathsheba +beside it--beside it in her out-door dress; for the clothes she had +worn on the hill were by association equally with her person included +in the compass of his affection; they seemed at this early time of +his love a necessary ingredient of the sweet mixture called Bathsheba +Everdene. + +He had made a toilet of a nicely-adjusted kind--of a nature between +the carefully neat and the carelessly ornate--of a degree between +fine-market-day and wet-Sunday selection. He thoroughly cleaned his +silver watch-chain with whiting, put new lacing straps to his boots, +looked to the brass eyelet-holes, went to the inmost heart of the +plantation for a new walking-stick, and trimmed it vigorously on his +way back; took a new handkerchief from the bottom of his clothes-box, +put on the light waistcoat patterned all over with sprigs of an +elegant flower uniting the beauties of both rose and lily without the +defects of either, and used all the hair-oil he possessed upon his +usually dry, sandy, and inextricably curly hair, till he had deepened +it to a splendidly novel colour, between that of guano and Roman +cement, making it stick to his head like mace round a nutmeg, or wet +seaweed round a boulder after the ebb. + +Nothing disturbed the stillness of the cottage save the chatter of a +knot of sparrows on the eaves; one might fancy scandal and rumour to +be no less the staple topic of these little coteries on roofs than of +those under them. It seemed that the omen was an unpropitious one, +for, as the rather untoward commencement of Oak's overtures, just +as he arrived by the garden gate, he saw a cat inside, going into +various arched shapes and fiendish convulsions at the sight of his +dog George. The dog took no notice, for he had arrived at an age at +which all superfluous barking was cynically avoided as a waste of +breath--in fact, he never barked even at the sheep except to order, +when it was done with an absolutely neutral countenance, as a sort of +Commination-service, which, though offensive, had to be gone through +once now and then to frighten the flock for their own good. + +A voice came from behind some laurel-bushes into which the cat had +run: + +"Poor dear! Did a nasty brute of a dog want to kill it;--did he, +poor dear!" + +"I beg your pardon," said Oak to the voice, "but George was walking +on behind me with a temper as mild as milk." + +Almost before he had ceased speaking, Oak was seized with a misgiving +as to whose ear was the recipient of his answer. Nobody appeared, and +he heard the person retreat among the bushes. + +Gabriel meditated, and so deeply that he brought small furrows into +his forehead by sheer force of reverie. Where the issue of an +interview is as likely to be a vast change for the worse as for +the better, any initial difference from expectation causes nipping +sensations of failure. Oak went up to the door a little abashed: +his mental rehearsal and the reality had had no common grounds of +opening. + +Bathsheba's aunt was indoors. "Will you tell Miss Everdene that +somebody would be glad to speak to her?" said Mr. Oak. (Calling +one's self merely Somebody, without giving a name, is not to be taken +as an example of the ill-breeding of the rural world: it springs +from a refined modesty, of which townspeople, with their cards and +announcements, have no notion whatever.) + +Bathsheba was out. The voice had evidently been hers. + +"Will you come in, Mr. Oak?" + +"Oh, thank 'ee," said Gabriel, following her to the fireplace. "I've +brought a lamb for Miss Everdene. I thought she might like one to +rear; girls do." + +"She might," said Mrs. Hurst, musingly; "though she's only a visitor +here. If you will wait a minute, Bathsheba will be in." + +"Yes, I will wait," said Gabriel, sitting down. "The lamb isn't +really the business I came about, Mrs. Hurst. In short, I was going +to ask her if she'd like to be married." + +"And were you indeed?" + +"Yes. Because if she would, I should be very glad to marry her. +D'ye know if she's got any other young man hanging about her at all?" + +"Let me think," said Mrs. Hurst, poking the fire superfluously.... +"Yes--bless you, ever so many young men. You see, Farmer Oak, she's +so good-looking, and an excellent scholar besides--she was going to +be a governess once, you know, only she was too wild. Not that her +young men ever come here--but, Lord, in the nature of women, she must +have a dozen!" + +"That's unfortunate," said Farmer Oak, contemplating a crack in the +stone floor with sorrow. "I'm only an every-day sort of man, and my +only chance was in being the first comer ... Well, there's no use in +my waiting, for that was all I came about: so I'll take myself off +home-along, Mrs. Hurst." + +When Gabriel had gone about two hundred yards along the down, he +heard a "hoi-hoi!" uttered behind him, in a piping note of more +treble quality than that in which the exclamation usually embodies +itself when shouted across a field. He looked round, and saw a girl +racing after him, waving a white handkerchief. + +Oak stood still--and the runner drew nearer. It was Bathsheba +Everdene. Gabriel's colour deepened: hers was already deep, not, as +it appeared, from emotion, but from running. + +"Farmer Oak--I--" she said, pausing for want of breath pulling up in +front of him with a slanted face and putting her hand to her side. + +"I have just called to see you," said Gabriel, pending her further +speech. + +"Yes--I know that," she said panting like a robin, her face red and +moist from her exertions, like a peony petal before the sun dries off +the dew. "I didn't know you had come to ask to have me, or I should +have come in from the garden instantly. I ran after you to say--that +my aunt made a mistake in sending you away from courting me--" + +Gabriel expanded. "I'm sorry to have made you run so fast, my dear," +he said, with a grateful sense of favours to come. "Wait a bit till +you've found your breath." + +"--It was quite a mistake--aunt's telling you I had a young man +already," Bathsheba went on. "I haven't a sweetheart at all--and I +never had one, and I thought that, as times go with women, it was +SUCH a pity to send you away thinking that I had several." + +"Really and truly I am glad to hear that!" said Farmer Oak, smiling +one of his long special smiles, and blushing with gladness. He held +out his hand to take hers, which, when she had eased her side by +pressing it there, was prettily extended upon her bosom to still her +loud-beating heart. Directly he seized it she put it behind her, so +that it slipped through his fingers like an eel. + +"I have a nice snug little farm," said Gabriel, with half a degree +less assurance than when he had seized her hand. + +"Yes; you have." + +"A man has advanced me money to begin with, but still, it will soon +be paid off, and though I am only an every-day sort of man, I have +got on a little since I was a boy." Gabriel uttered "a little" in a +tone to show her that it was the complacent form of "a great deal." +He continued: "When we be married, I am quite sure I can work twice +as hard as I do now." + +He went forward and stretched out his arm again. Bathsheba had +overtaken him at a point beside which stood a low stunted holly bush, +now laden with red berries. Seeing his advance take the form of an +attitude threatening a possible enclosure, if not compression, of her +person, she edged off round the bush. + +"Why, Farmer Oak," she said, over the top, looking at him with +rounded eyes, "I never said I was going to marry you." + +"Well--that IS a tale!" said Oak, with dismay. "To run after anybody +like this, and then say you don't want him!" + +"What I meant to tell you was only this," she said eagerly, and yet +half conscious of the absurdity of the position she had made for +herself--"that nobody has got me yet as a sweetheart, instead of my +having a dozen, as my aunt said; I HATE to be thought men's property +in that way, though possibly I shall be had some day. Why, if I'd +wanted you I shouldn't have run after you like this; 'twould have +been the FORWARDEST thing! But there was no harm in hurrying to +correct a piece of false news that had been told you." + +"Oh, no--no harm at all." But there is such a thing as being too +generous in expressing a judgment impulsively, and Oak added with a +more appreciative sense of all the circumstances--"Well, I am not +quite certain it was no harm." + +"Indeed, I hadn't time to think before starting whether I wanted to +marry or not, for you'd have been gone over the hill." + +"Come," said Gabriel, freshening again; "think a minute or two. I'll +wait a while, Miss Everdene. Will you marry me? Do, Bathsheba. I +love you far more than common!" + +"I'll try to think," she observed, rather more timorously; "if I can +think out of doors; my mind spreads away so." + +"But you can give a guess." + +"Then give me time." Bathsheba looked thoughtfully into the +distance, away from the direction in which Gabriel stood. + +"I can make you happy," said he to the back of her head, across the +bush. "You shall have a piano in a year or two--farmers' wives are +getting to have pianos now--and I'll practise up the flute right well +to play with you in the evenings." + +"Yes; I should like that." + +"And have one of those little ten-pound gigs for market--and nice +flowers, and birds--cocks and hens I mean, because they be useful," +continued Gabriel, feeling balanced between poetry and practicality. + +"I should like it very much." + +"And a frame for cucumbers--like a gentleman and lady." + +"Yes." + +"And when the wedding was over, we'd have it put in the newspaper +list of marriages." + +"Dearly I should like that!" + +"And the babies in the births--every man jack of 'em! And at home by +the fire, whenever you look up, there I shall be--and whenever I look +up there will be you." + +"Wait, wait, and don't be improper!" + +Her countenance fell, and she was silent awhile. He regarded the red +berries between them over and over again, to such an extent, that +holly seemed in his after life to be a cypher signifying a proposal +of marriage. Bathsheba decisively turned to him. + +"No; 'tis no use," she said. "I don't want to marry you." + +"Try." + +"I have tried hard all the time I've been thinking; for a marriage +would be very nice in one sense. People would talk about me, and +think I had won my battle, and I should feel triumphant, and all +that, But a husband--" + +"Well!" + +"Why, he'd always be there, as you say; whenever I looked up, there +he'd be." + +"Of course he would--I, that is." + +"Well, what I mean is that I shouldn't mind being a bride at a +wedding, if I could be one without having a husband. But since a +woman can't show off in that way by herself, I shan't marry--at least +yet." + +"That's a terrible wooden story!" + +At this criticism of her statement Bathsheba made an addition to her +dignity by a slight sweep away from him. + +"Upon my heart and soul, I don't know what a maid can say stupider +than that," said Oak. "But dearest," he continued in a palliative +voice, "don't be like it!" Oak sighed a deep honest sigh--none the +less so in that, being like the sigh of a pine plantation, it was +rather noticeable as a disturbance of the atmosphere. "Why won't you +have me?" he appealed, creeping round the holly to reach her side. + +"I cannot," she said, retreating. + +"But why?" he persisted, standing still at last in despair of ever +reaching her, and facing over the bush. + +"Because I don't love you." + +"Yes, but--" + +She contracted a yawn to an inoffensive smallness, so that it was +hardly ill-mannered at all. "I don't love you," she said. + +"But I love you--and, as for myself, I am content to be liked." + +"Oh Mr. Oak--that's very fine! You'd get to despise me." + +"Never," said Mr Oak, so earnestly that he seemed to be coming, by +the force of his words, straight through the bush and into her arms. +"I shall do one thing in this life--one thing certain--that is, love +you, and long for you, and KEEP WANTING YOU till I die." His voice +had a genuine pathos now, and his large brown hands perceptibly +trembled. + +"It seems dreadfully wrong not to have you when you feel so much!" +she said with a little distress, and looking hopelessly around +for some means of escape from her moral dilemma. "How I wish I +hadn't run after you!" However she seemed to have a short cut for +getting back to cheerfulness, and set her face to signify archness. +"It wouldn't do, Mr Oak. I want somebody to tame me; I am too +independent; and you would never be able to, I know." + +Oak cast his eyes down the field in a way implying that it was +useless to attempt argument. + +"Mr. Oak," she said, with luminous distinctness and common sense, +"you are better off than I. I have hardly a penny in the world--I am +staying with my aunt for my bare sustenance. I am better educated +than you--and I don't love you a bit: that's my side of the case. +Now yours: you are a farmer just beginning; and you ought in common +prudence, if you marry at all (which you should certainly not think +of doing at present), to marry a woman with money, who would stock a +larger farm for you than you have now." + +Gabriel looked at her with a little surprise and much admiration. + +"That's the very thing I had been thinking myself!" he naïvely said. + +Farmer Oak had one-and-a-half Christian characteristics too many to +succeed with Bathsheba: his humility, and a superfluous moiety of +honesty. Bathsheba was decidedly disconcerted. + +"Well, then, why did you come and disturb me?" she said, almost +angrily, if not quite, an enlarging red spot rising in each cheek. + +"I can't do what I think would be--would be--" + +"Right?" + +"No: wise." + +"You have made an admission NOW, Mr. Oak," she exclaimed, with even +more hauteur, and rocking her head disdainfully. "After that, do you +think I could marry you? Not if I know it." + +He broke in passionately. "But don't mistake me like that! Because +I am open enough to own what every man in my shoes would have thought +of, you make your colours come up your face, and get crabbed with me. +That about your not being good enough for me is nonsense. You speak +like a lady--all the parish notice it, and your uncle at Weatherbury +is, I have heerd, a large farmer--much larger than ever I shall be. +May I call in the evening, or will you walk along with me o' Sundays? +I don't want you to make-up your mind at once, if you'd rather not." + +"No--no--I cannot. Don't press me any more--don't. I don't love +you--so 'twould be ridiculous," she said, with a laugh. + +No man likes to see his emotions the sport of a merry-go-round of +skittishness. "Very well," said Oak, firmly, with the bearing of one +who was going to give his days and nights to Ecclesiastes for ever. +"Then I'll ask you no more." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +DEPARTURE OF BATHSHEBA--A PASTORAL TRAGEDY + + +The news which one day reached Gabriel, that Bathsheba Everdene +had left the neighbourhood, had an influence upon him which might +have surprised any who never suspected that the more emphatic the +renunciation the less absolute its character. + +It may have been observed that there is no regular path for getting +out of love as there is for getting in. Some people look upon +marriage as a short cut that way, but it has been known to fail. +Separation, which was the means that chance offered to Gabriel Oak by +Bathsheba's disappearance, though effectual with people of certain +humours, is apt to idealize the removed object with others--notably +those whose affection, placid and regular as it may be, flows deep +and long. Oak belonged to the even-tempered order of humanity, and +felt the secret fusion of himself in Bathsheba to be burning with a +finer flame now that she was gone--that was all. + +His incipient friendship with her aunt had been nipped by the +failure of his suit, and all that Oak learnt of Bathsheba's +movements was done indirectly. It appeared that she had gone to +a place called Weatherbury, more than twenty miles off, but in +what capacity--whether as a visitor, or permanently, he could not +discover. + +Gabriel had two dogs. George, the elder, exhibited an ebony-tipped +nose, surrounded by a narrow margin of pink flesh, and a coat marked +in random splotches approximating in colour to white and slaty +grey; but the grey, after years of sun and rain, had been scorched +and washed out of the more prominent locks, leaving them of a +reddish-brown, as if the blue component of the grey had faded, like +the indigo from the same kind of colour in Turner's pictures. In +substance it had originally been hair, but long contact with sheep +seemed to be turning it by degrees into wool of a poor quality and +staple. + +This dog had originally belonged to a shepherd of inferior morals +and dreadful temper, and the result was that George knew the exact +degrees of condemnation signified by cursing and swearing of all +descriptions better than the wickedest old man in the neighbourhood. +Long experience had so precisely taught the animal the difference +between such exclamations as "Come in!" and "D---- ye, come in!" that +he knew to a hair's breadth the rate of trotting back from the ewes' +tails that each call involved, if a staggerer with the sheep crook +was to be escaped. Though old, he was clever and trustworthy still. + +The young dog, George's son, might possibly have been the image +of his mother, for there was not much resemblance between him and +George. He was learning the sheep-keeping business, so as to follow +on at the flock when the other should die, but had got no further +than the rudiments as yet--still finding an insuperable difficulty +in distinguishing between doing a thing well enough and doing it too +well. So earnest and yet so wrong-headed was this young dog (he had +no name in particular, and answered with perfect readiness to any +pleasant interjection), that if sent behind the flock to help them +on, he did it so thoroughly that he would have chased them across the +whole county with the greatest pleasure if not called off or reminded +when to stop by the example of old George. + +Thus much for the dogs. On the further side of Norcombe Hill was +a chalk-pit, from which chalk had been drawn for generations, and +spread over adjacent farms. Two hedges converged upon it in the form +of a V, but without quite meeting. The narrow opening left, which +was immediately over the brow of the pit, was protected by a rough +railing. + +One night, when Farmer Oak had returned to his house, believing there +would be no further necessity for his attendance on the down, he +called as usual to the dogs, previously to shutting them up in the +outhouse till next morning. Only one responded--old George; the +other could not be found, either in the house, lane, or garden. +Gabriel then remembered that he had left the two dogs on the hill +eating a dead lamb (a kind of meat he usually kept from them, except +when other food ran short), and concluding that the young one had +not finished his meal, he went indoors to the luxury of a bed, which +latterly he had only enjoyed on Sundays. + +It was a still, moist night. Just before dawn he was assisted in +waking by the abnormal reverberation of familiar music. To the +shepherd, the note of the sheep-bell, like the ticking of the clock +to other people, is a chronic sound that only makes itself noticed by +ceasing or altering in some unusual manner from the well-known idle +twinkle which signifies to the accustomed ear, however distant, that +all is well in the fold. In the solemn calm of the awakening morn +that note was heard by Gabriel, beating with unusual violence and +rapidity. This exceptional ringing may be caused in two ways--by +the rapid feeding of the sheep bearing the bell, as when the flock +breaks into new pasture, which gives it an intermittent rapidity, +or by the sheep starting off in a run, when the sound has a regular +palpitation. The experienced ear of Oak knew the sound he now heard +to be caused by the running of the flock with great velocity. + +He jumped out of bed, dressed, tore down the lane through a foggy +dawn, and ascended the hill. The forward ewes were kept apart from +those among which the fall of lambs would be later, there being two +hundred of the latter class in Gabriel's flock. These two hundred +seemed to have absolutely vanished from the hill. There were the +fifty with their lambs, enclosed at the other end as he had left +them, but the rest, forming the bulk of the flock, were nowhere. +Gabriel called at the top of his voice the shepherd's call: + +"Ovey, ovey, ovey!" + +Not a single bleat. He went to the hedge; a gap had been broken +through it, and in the gap were the footprints of the sheep. Rather +surprised to find them break fence at this season, yet putting it +down instantly to their great fondness for ivy in winter-time, of +which a great deal grew in the plantation, he followed through the +hedge. They were not in the plantation. He called again: the +valleys and farthest hills resounded as when the sailors invoked the +lost Hylas on the Mysian shore; but no sheep. He passed through the +trees and along the ridge of the hill. On the extreme summit, where +the ends of the two converging hedges of which we have spoken were +stopped short by meeting the brow of the chalk-pit, he saw the +younger dog standing against the sky--dark and motionless as Napoleon +at St. Helena. + +A horrible conviction darted through Oak. With a sensation of bodily +faintness he advanced: at one point the rails were broken through, +and there he saw the footprints of his ewes. The dog came up, licked +his hand, and made signs implying that he expected some great reward +for signal services rendered. Oak looked over the precipice. The +ewes lay dead and dying at its foot--a heap of two hundred mangled +carcasses, representing in their condition just now at least two +hundred more. + +Oak was an intensely humane man: indeed, his humanity often tore in +pieces any politic intentions of his which bordered on strategy, and +carried him on as by gravitation. A shadow in his life had always +been that his flock ended in mutton--that a day came and found every +shepherd an arrant traitor to his defenseless sheep. His first +feeling now was one of pity for the untimely fate of these gentle +ewes and their unborn lambs. + +It was a second to remember another phase of the matter. The +sheep were not insured. All the savings of a frugal life had been +dispersed at a blow; his hopes of being an independent farmer were +laid low--possibly for ever. Gabriel's energies, patience, and +industry had been so severely taxed during the years of his life +between eighteen and eight-and-twenty, to reach his present stage of +progress that no more seemed to be left in him. He leant down upon a +rail, and covered his face with his hands. + +Stupors, however, do not last for ever, and Farmer Oak recovered from +his. It was as remarkable as it was characteristic that the one +sentence he uttered was in thankfulness:-- + +"Thank God I am not married: what would SHE have done in the poverty +now coming upon me!" + +Oak raised his head, and wondering what he could do, listlessly +surveyed the scene. By the outer margin of the Pit was an oval pond, +and over it hung the attenuated skeleton of a chrome-yellow moon +which had only a few days to last--the morning star dogging her on +the left hand. The pool glittered like a dead man's eye, and as the +world awoke a breeze blew, shaking and elongating the reflection of +the moon without breaking it, and turning the image of the star to a +phosphoric streak upon the water. All this Oak saw and remembered. + +As far as could be learnt it appeared that the poor young dog, still +under the impression that since he was kept for running after sheep, +the more he ran after them the better, had at the end of his meal +off the dead lamb, which may have given him additional energy and +spirits, collected all the ewes into a corner, driven the timid +creatures through the hedge, across the upper field, and by main +force of worrying had given them momentum enough to break down a +portion of the rotten railing, and so hurled them over the edge. + +George's son had done his work so thoroughly that he was considered +too good a workman to live, and was, in fact, taken and tragically +shot at twelve o'clock that same day--another instance of the +untoward fate which so often attends dogs and other philosophers +who follow out a train of reasoning to its logical conclusion, and +attempt perfectly consistent conduct in a world made up so largely +of compromise. + +Gabriel's farm had been stocked by a dealer--on the strength of Oak's +promising look and character--who was receiving a percentage from the +farmer till such time as the advance should be cleared off. Oak found +that the value of stock, plant, and implements which were really his +own would be about sufficient to pay his debts, leaving himself a +free man with the clothes he stood up in, and nothing more. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +THE FAIR--THE JOURNEY--THE FIRE + + +Two months passed away. We are brought on to a day in February, on +which was held the yearly statute or hiring fair in the county-town +of Casterbridge. + +At one end of the street stood from two to three hundred blithe and +hearty labourers waiting upon Chance--all men of the stamp to whom +labour suggests nothing worse than a wrestle with gravitation, and +pleasure nothing better than a renunciation of the same. Among +these, carters and waggoners were distinguished by having a piece +of whip-cord twisted round their hats; thatchers wore a fragment of +woven straw; shepherds held their sheep-crooks in their hands; and +thus the situation required was known to the hirers at a glance. + +In the crowd was an athletic young fellow of somewhat superior +appearance to the rest--in fact, his superiority was marked enough to +lead several ruddy peasants standing by to speak to him inquiringly, +as to a farmer, and to use "Sir" as a finishing word. His answer +always was,-- + +"I am looking for a place myself--a bailiff's. Do ye know of anybody +who wants one?" + +Gabriel was paler now. His eyes were more meditative, and his +expression was more sad. He had passed through an ordeal of +wretchedness which had given him more than it had taken away. He +had sunk from his modest elevation as pastoral king into the very +slime-pits of Siddim; but there was left to him a dignified calm he +had never before known, and that indifference to fate which, though +it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when +it does not. And thus the abasement had been exaltation, and the +loss gain. + +In the morning a regiment of cavalry had left the town, and a +sergeant and his party had been beating up for recruits through the +four streets. As the end of the day drew on, and he found himself +not hired, Gabriel almost wished that he had joined them, and gone +off to serve his country. Weary of standing in the market-place, and +not much minding the kind of work he turned his hand to, he decided +to offer himself in some other capacity than that of bailiff. + +All the farmers seemed to be wanting shepherds. Sheep-tending was +Gabriel's speciality. Turning down an obscure street and entering +an obscurer lane, he went up to a smith's shop. + +"How long would it take you to make a shepherd's crook?" + +"Twenty minutes." + +"How much?" + +"Two shillings." + +He sat on a bench and the crook was made, a stem being given him into +the bargain. + +He then went to a ready-made clothes' shop, the owner of which had a +large rural connection. As the crook had absorbed most of Gabriel's +money, he attempted, and carried out, an exchange of his overcoat for +a shepherd's regulation smock-frock. + +This transaction having been completed, he again hurried off to the +centre of the town, and stood on the kerb of the pavement, as a +shepherd, crook in hand. + +Now that Oak had turned himself into a shepherd, it seemed that +bailiffs were most in demand. However, two or three farmers noticed +him and drew near. Dialogues followed, more or less in the subjoined +form:-- + +"Where do you come from?" + +"Norcombe." + +"That's a long way. + +"Fifteen miles." + +"Who's farm were you upon last?" + +"My own." + +This reply invariably operated like a rumour of cholera. The +inquiring farmer would edge away and shake his head dubiously. +Gabriel, like his dog, was too good to be trustworthy, and he never +made advance beyond this point. + +It is safer to accept any chance that offers itself, and extemporize +a procedure to fit it, than to get a good plan matured, and wait for +a chance of using it. Gabriel wished he had not nailed up his +colours as a shepherd, but had laid himself out for anything in the +whole cycle of labour that was required in the fair. It grew dusk. +Some merry men were whistling and singing by the corn-exchange. +Gabriel's hand, which had lain for some time idle in his smock-frock +pocket, touched his flute which he carried there. Here was an +opportunity for putting his dearly bought wisdom into practice. + +He drew out his flute and began to play "Jockey to the Fair" in the +style of a man who had never known moment's sorrow. Oak could pipe +with Arcadian sweetness, and the sound of the well-known notes +cheered his own heart as well as those of the loungers. He played on +with spirit, and in half an hour had earned in pence what was a small +fortune to a destitute man. + +By making inquiries he learnt that there was another fair at +Shottsford the next day. + +"How far is Shottsford?" + +"Ten miles t'other side of Weatherbury." + +Weatherbury! It was where Bathsheba had gone two months before. +This information was like coming from night into noon. + +"How far is it to Weatherbury?" + +"Five or six miles." + +Bathsheba had probably left Weatherbury long before this time, but +the place had enough interest attaching to it to lead Oak to choose +Shottsford fair as his next field of inquiry, because it lay in the +Weatherbury quarter. Moreover, the Weatherbury folk were by no means +uninteresting intrinsically. If report spoke truly they were as +hardy, merry, thriving, wicked a set as any in the whole county. Oak +resolved to sleep at Weatherbury that night on his way to Shottsford, +and struck out at once into the high road which had been recommended +as the direct route to the village in question. + +The road stretched through water-meadows traversed by little brooks, +whose quivering surfaces were braided along their centres, and +folded into creases at the sides; or, where the flow was more +rapid, the stream was pied with spots of white froth, which rode +on in undisturbed serenity. On the higher levels the dead and +dry carcasses of leaves tapped the ground as they bowled along +helter-skelter upon the shoulders of the wind, and little birds in +the hedges were rustling their feathers and tucking themselves in +comfortably for the night, retaining their places if Oak kept moving, +but flying away if he stopped to look at them. He passed by Yalbury +Wood where the game-birds were rising to their roosts, and heard the +crack-voiced cock-pheasants "cu-uck, cuck," and the wheezy whistle of +the hens. + +By the time he had walked three or four miles every shape in the +landscape had assumed a uniform hue of blackness. He descended +Yalbury Hill and could just discern ahead of him a waggon, drawn up +under a great over-hanging tree by the roadside. + +On coming close, he found there were no horses attached to it, the +spot being apparently quite deserted. The waggon, from its position, +seemed to have been left there for the night, for beyond about half +a truss of hay which was heaped in the bottom, it was quite empty. +Gabriel sat down on the shafts of the vehicle and considered his +position. He calculated that he had walked a very fair proportion of +the journey; and having been on foot since daybreak, he felt tempted +to lie down upon the hay in the waggon instead of pushing on to the +village of Weatherbury, and having to pay for a lodging. + +Eating his last slices of bread and ham, and drinking from the bottle +of cider he had taken the precaution to bring with him, he got into +the lonely waggon. Here he spread half of the hay as a bed, and, +as well as he could in the darkness, pulled the other half over +him by way of bed-clothes, covering himself entirely, and feeling, +physically, as comfortable as ever he had been in his life. Inward +melancholy it was impossible for a man like Oak, introspective far +beyond his neighbours, to banish quite, whilst conning the present +untoward page of his history. So, thinking of his misfortunes, +amorous and pastoral, he fell asleep, shepherds enjoying, in common +with sailors, the privilege of being able to summon the god instead +of having to wait for him. + +On somewhat suddenly awaking, after a sleep of whose length he had no +idea, Oak found that the waggon was in motion. He was being carried +along the road at a rate rather considerable for a vehicle without +springs, and under circumstances of physical uneasiness, his +head being dandled up and down on the bed of the waggon like a +kettledrum-stick. He then distinguished voices in conversation, +coming from the forpart of the waggon. His concern at this dilemma +(which would have been alarm, had he been a thriving man; but +misfortune is a fine opiate to personal terror) led him to peer +cautiously from the hay, and the first sight he beheld was the stars +above him. Charles's Wain was getting towards a right angle with +the Pole star, and Gabriel concluded that it must be about nine +o'clock--in other words, that he had slept two hours. This small +astronomical calculation was made without any positive effort, and +whilst he was stealthily turning to discover, if possible, into whose +hands he had fallen. + +Two figures were dimly visible in front, sitting with their legs +outside the waggon, one of whom was driving. Gabriel soon found that +this was the waggoner, and it appeared they had come from +Casterbridge fair, like himself. + +A conversation was in progress, which continued thus:-- + +"Be as 'twill, she's a fine handsome body as far's looks be +concerned. But that's only the skin of the woman, and these dandy +cattle be as proud as a lucifer in their insides." + +"Ay--so 'a do seem, Billy Smallbury--so 'a do seem." This utterance +was very shaky by nature, and more so by circumstance, the jolting of +the waggon not being without its effect upon the speaker's larynx. +It came from the man who held the reins. + +"She's a very vain feymell--so 'tis said here and there." + +"Ah, now. If so be 'tis like that, I can't look her in the face. +Lord, no: not I--heh-heh-heh! Such a shy man as I be!" + +"Yes--she's very vain. 'Tis said that every night at going to bed +she looks in the glass to put on her night-cap properly." + +"And not a married woman. Oh, the world!" + +"And 'a can play the peanner, so 'tis said. Can play so clever that +'a can make a psalm tune sound as well as the merriest loose song a +man can wish for." + +"D'ye tell o't! A happy time for us, and I feel quite a new man! +And how do she pay?" + +"That I don't know, Master Poorgrass." + +On hearing these and other similar remarks, a wild thought flashed +into Gabriel's mind that they might be speaking of Bathsheba. There +were, however, no grounds for retaining such a supposition, for the +waggon, though going in the direction of Weatherbury, might be going +beyond it, and the woman alluded to seemed to be the mistress of some +estate. They were now apparently close upon Weatherbury and not to +alarm the speakers unnecessarily, Gabriel slipped out of the waggon +unseen. + +He turned to an opening in the hedge, which he found to be a gate, +and mounting thereon, he sat meditating whether to seek a cheap +lodging in the village, or to ensure a cheaper one by lying under +some hay or corn-stack. The crunching jangle of the waggon died upon +his ear. He was about to walk on, when he noticed on his left hand +an unusual light--appearing about half a mile distant. Oak watched +it, and the glow increased. Something was on fire. + +Gabriel again mounted the gate, and, leaping down on the other side +upon what he found to be ploughed soil, made across the field in the +exact direction of the fire. The blaze, enlarging in a double ratio +by his approach and its own increase, showed him as he drew nearer +the outlines of ricks beside it, lighted up to great distinctness. A +rick-yard was the source of the fire. His weary face now began to +be painted over with a rich orange glow, and the whole front of his +smock-frock and gaiters was covered with a dancing shadow pattern of +thorn-twigs--the light reaching him through a leafless intervening +hedge--and the metallic curve of his sheep-crook shone silver-bright +in the same abounding rays. He came up to the boundary fence, and +stood to regain breath. It seemed as if the spot was unoccupied by +a living soul. + +The fire was issuing from a long straw-stack, which was so far gone +as to preclude a possibility of saving it. A rick burns differently +from a house. As the wind blows the fire inwards, the portion in +flames completely disappears like melting sugar, and the outline is +lost to the eye. However, a hay or a wheat-rick, well put together, +will resist combustion for a length of time, if it begins on the +outside. + +This before Gabriel's eyes was a rick of straw, loosely put together, +and the flames darted into it with lightning swiftness. It glowed on +the windward side, rising and falling in intensity, like the coal of +a cigar. Then a superincumbent bundle rolled down, with a whisking +noise; flames elongated, and bent themselves about with a quiet +roar, but no crackle. Banks of smoke went off horizontally at the +back like passing clouds, and behind these burned hidden pyres, +illuminating the semi-transparent sheet of smoke to a lustrous yellow +uniformity. Individual straws in the foreground were consumed in a +creeping movement of ruddy heat, as if they were knots of red worms, +and above shone imaginary fiery faces, tongues hanging from lips, +glaring eyes, and other impish forms, from which at intervals sparks +flew in clusters like birds from a nest. + +Oak suddenly ceased from being a mere spectator by discovering the +case to be more serious than he had at first imagined. A scroll +of smoke blew aside and revealed to him a wheat-rick in startling +juxtaposition with the decaying one, and behind this a series of +others, composing the main corn produce of the farm; so that instead +of the straw-stack standing, as he had imagined comparatively +isolated, there was a regular connection between it and the remaining +stacks of the group. + +Gabriel leapt over the hedge, and saw that he was not alone. The +first man he came to was running about in a great hurry, as if his +thoughts were several yards in advance of his body, which they could +never drag on fast enough. + +"O, man--fire, fire! A good master and a bad servant is fire, +fire!--I mane a bad servant and a good master. Oh, Mark Clark--come! +And you, Billy Smallbury--and you, Maryann Money--and you, Jan +Coggan, and Matthew there!" Other figures now appeared behind this +shouting man and among the smoke, and Gabriel found that, far from +being alone he was in a great company--whose shadows danced merrily +up and down, timed by the jigging of the flames, and not at all by +their owners' movements. The assemblage--belonging to that class of +society which casts its thoughts into the form of feeling, and its +feelings into the form of commotion--set to work with a remarkable +confusion of purpose. + +"Stop the draught under the wheat-rick!" cried Gabriel to those +nearest to him. The corn stood on stone staddles, and between these, +tongues of yellow hue from the burning straw licked and darted +playfully. If the fire once got UNDER this stack, all would be lost. + +"Get a tarpaulin--quick!" said Gabriel. + +A rick-cloth was brought, and they hung it like a curtain across the +channel. The flames immediately ceased to go under the bottom of the +corn-stack, and stood up vertical. + +"Stand here with a bucket of water and keep the cloth wet." said +Gabriel again. + +The flames, now driven upwards, began to attack the angles of the +huge roof covering the wheat-stack. + +"A ladder," cried Gabriel. + +"The ladder was against the straw-rick and is burnt to a cinder," +said a spectre-like form in the smoke. + +Oak seized the cut ends of the sheaves, as if he were going to engage +in the operation of "reed-drawing," and digging in his feet, and +occasionally sticking in the stem of his sheep-crook, he clambered up +the beetling face. He at once sat astride the very apex, and began +with his crook to beat off the fiery fragments which had lodged +thereon, shouting to the others to get him a bough and a ladder, and +some water. + +Billy Smallbury--one of the men who had been on the waggon--by this +time had found a ladder, which Mark Clark ascended, holding on beside +Oak upon the thatch. The smoke at this corner was stifling, and +Clark, a nimble fellow, having been handed a bucket of water, bathed +Oak's face and sprinkled him generally, whilst Gabriel, now with a +long beech-bough in one hand, in addition to his crook in the other, +kept sweeping the stack and dislodging all fiery particles. + +On the ground the groups of villagers were still occupied in doing +all they could to keep down the conflagration, which was not much. +They were all tinged orange, and backed up by shadows of varying +pattern. Round the corner of the largest stack, out of the direct +rays of the fire, stood a pony, bearing a young woman on its back. +By her side was another woman, on foot. These two seemed to keep at +a distance from the fire, that the horse might not become restive. + +"He's a shepherd," said the woman on foot. "Yes--he is. See how his +crook shines as he beats the rick with it. And his smock-frock is +burnt in two holes, I declare! A fine young shepherd he is too, +ma'am." + +"Whose shepherd is he?" said the equestrian in a clear voice. + +"Don't know, ma'am." + +"Don't any of the others know?" + +"Nobody at all--I've asked 'em. Quite a stranger, they say." + +The young woman on the pony rode out from the shade and looked +anxiously around. + +"Do you think the barn is safe?" she said. + +"D'ye think the barn is safe, Jan Coggan?" said the second woman, +passing on the question to the nearest man in that direction. + +"Safe-now--leastwise I think so. If this rick had gone the barn +would have followed. 'Tis that bold shepherd up there that have done +the most good--he sitting on the top o' rick, whizzing his great +long-arms about like a windmill." + +"He does work hard," said the young woman on horseback, looking up at +Gabriel through her thick woollen veil. "I wish he was shepherd +here. Don't any of you know his name." + +"Never heard the man's name in my life, or seed his form afore." + +The fire began to get worsted, and Gabriel's elevated position being +no longer required of him, he made as if to descend. + +"Maryann," said the girl on horseback, "go to him as he comes down, +and say that the farmer wishes to thank him for the great service he +has done." + +Maryann stalked off towards the rick and met Oak at the foot of the +ladder. She delivered her message. + +"Where is your master the farmer?" asked Gabriel, kindling with the +idea of getting employment that seemed to strike him now. + +"'Tisn't a master; 'tis a mistress, shepherd." + +"A woman farmer?" + +"Ay, 'a b'lieve, and a rich one too!" said a bystander. "Lately +'a came here from a distance. Took on her uncle's farm, who died +suddenly. Used to measure his money in half-pint cups. They say +now that she've business in every bank in Casterbridge, and thinks +no more of playing pitch-and-toss sovereign than you and I, do +pitch-halfpenny--not a bit in the world, shepherd." + +"That's she, back there upon the pony," said Maryann; "wi' her face +a-covered up in that black cloth with holes in it." + +Oak, his features smudged, grimy, and undiscoverable from the smoke +and heat, his smock-frock burnt into holes and dripping with water, +the ash stem of his sheep-crook charred six inches shorter, advanced +with the humility stern adversity had thrust upon him up to the +slight female form in the saddle. He lifted his hat with respect, +and not without gallantry: stepping close to her hanging feet he said +in a hesitating voice,-- + +"Do you happen to want a shepherd, ma'am?" + +She lifted the wool veil tied round her face, and looked all +astonishment. Gabriel and his cold-hearted darling, Bathsheba +Everdene, were face to face. + +Bathsheba did not speak, and he mechanically repeated in an abashed +and sad voice,-- + +"Do you want a shepherd, ma'am?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +RECOGNITION--A TIMID GIRL + + +Bathsheba withdrew into the shade. She scarcely knew whether most to +be amused at the singularity of the meeting, or to be concerned at +its awkwardness. There was room for a little pity, also for a very +little exultation: the former at his position, the latter at her own. +Embarrassed she was not, and she remembered Gabriel's declaration of +love to her at Norcombe only to think she had nearly forgotten it. + +"Yes," she murmured, putting on an air of dignity, and turning again +to him with a little warmth of cheek; "I do want a shepherd. But--" + +"He's the very man, ma'am," said one of the villagers, quietly. + +Conviction breeds conviction. "Ay, that 'a is," said a second, +decisively. + +"The man, truly!" said a third, with heartiness. + +"He's all there!" said number four, fervidly. + +"Then will you tell him to speak to the bailiff," said Bathsheba. + +All was practical again now. A summer eve and loneliness would have +been necessary to give the meeting its proper fulness of romance. + +The bailiff was pointed out to Gabriel, who, checking the palpitation +within his breast at discovering that this Ashtoreth of strange +report was only a modification of Venus the well-known and admired, +retired with him to talk over the necessary preliminaries of hiring. + +The fire before them wasted away. "Men," said Bathsheba, "you shall +take a little refreshment after this extra work. Will you come to +the house?" + +"We could knock in a bit and a drop a good deal freer, Miss, if so be +ye'd send it to Warren's Malthouse," replied the spokesman. + +Bathsheba then rode off into the darkness, and the men straggled on +to the village in twos and threes--Oak and the bailiff being left by +the rick alone. + +"And now," said the bailiff, finally, "all is settled, I think, about +your coming, and I am going home-along. Good-night to ye, shepherd." + +"Can you get me a lodging?" inquired Gabriel. + +"That I can't, indeed," he said, moving past Oak as a Christian edges +past an offertory-plate when he does not mean to contribute. "If you +follow on the road till you come to Warren's Malthouse, where they +are all gone to have their snap of victuals, I daresay some of 'em +will tell you of a place. Good-night to ye, shepherd." + +The bailiff who showed this nervous dread of loving his neighbour as +himself, went up the hill, and Oak walked on to the village, still +astonished at the reencounter with Bathsheba, glad of his nearness to +her, and perplexed at the rapidity with which the unpractised girl of +Norcombe had developed into the supervising and cool woman here. But +some women only require an emergency to make them fit for one. + +Obliged, to some extent, to forgo dreaming in order to find the way, +he reached the churchyard, and passed round it under the wall where +several ancient trees grew. There was a wide margin of grass along +here, and Gabriel's footsteps were deadened by its softness, even at +this indurating period of the year. When abreast of a trunk which +appeared to be the oldest of the old, he became aware that a figure +was standing behind it. Gabriel did not pause in his walk, and in +another moment he accidentally kicked a loose stone. The noise was +enough to disturb the motionless stranger, who started and assumed +a careless position. + +It was a slim girl, rather thinly clad. + +"Good-night to you," said Gabriel, heartily. + +"Good-night," said the girl to Gabriel. + +The voice was unexpectedly attractive; it was the low and dulcet note +suggestive of romance; common in descriptions, rare in experience. + +"I'll thank you to tell me if I'm in the way for Warren's Malthouse?" +Gabriel resumed, primarily to gain the information, indirectly to get +more of the music. + +"Quite right. It's at the bottom of the hill. And do you know--" +The girl hesitated and then went on again. "Do you know how late +they keep open the Buck's Head Inn?" She seemed to be won by +Gabriel's heartiness, as Gabriel had been won by her modulations. + +"I don't know where the Buck's Head is, or anything about it. Do you +think of going there to-night?" + +"Yes--" The woman again paused. There was no necessity for any +continuance of speech, and the fact that she did add more seemed to +proceed from an unconscious desire to show unconcern by making a +remark, which is noticeable in the ingenuous when they are acting by +stealth. "You are not a Weatherbury man?" she said, timorously. + +"I am not. I am the new shepherd--just arrived." + +"Only a shepherd--and you seem almost a farmer by your ways." + +"Only a shepherd," Gabriel repeated, in a dull cadence of finality. +His thoughts were directed to the past, his eyes to the feet of the +girl; and for the first time he saw lying there a bundle of some +sort. She may have perceived the direction of his face, for she said +coaxingly,-- + +"You won't say anything in the parish about having seen me here, will +you--at least, not for a day or two?" + +"I won't if you wish me not to," said Oak. + +"Thank you, indeed," the other replied. "I am rather poor, and I +don't want people to know anything about me." Then she was silent +and shivered. + +"You ought to have a cloak on such a cold night," Gabriel observed. +"I would advise 'ee to get indoors." + +"O no! Would you mind going on and leaving me? I thank you much for +what you have told me." + +"I will go on," he said; adding hesitatingly,--"Since you are not +very well off, perhaps you would accept this trifle from me. It is +only a shilling, but it is all I have to spare." + +"Yes, I will take it," said the stranger gratefully. + +She extended her hand; Gabriel his. In feeling for each other's palm +in the gloom before the money could be passed, a minute incident +occurred which told much. Gabriel's fingers alighted on the young +woman's wrist. It was beating with a throb of tragic intensity. He +had frequently felt the same quick, hard beat in the femoral artery +of his lambs when overdriven. It suggested a consumption too great +of a vitality which, to judge from her figure and stature, was +already too little. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Nothing." + +"But there is?" + +"No, no, no! Let your having seen me be a secret!" + +"Very well; I will. Good-night, again." + +"Good-night." + +The young girl remained motionless by the tree, and Gabriel descended +into the village of Weatherbury, or Lower Longpuddle as it was +sometimes called. He fancied that he had felt himself in the +penumbra of a very deep sadness when touching that slight and fragile +creature. But wisdom lies in moderating mere impressions, and +Gabriel endeavoured to think little of this. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +THE MALTHOUSE--THE CHAT--NEWS + + +Warren's Malthouse was enclosed by an old wall inwrapped with ivy, +and though not much of the exterior was visible at this hour, the +character and purposes of the building were clearly enough shown by +its outline upon the sky. From the walls an overhanging thatched +roof sloped up to a point in the centre, upon which rose a small +wooden lantern, fitted with louvre-boards on all the four sides, +and from these openings a mist was dimly perceived to be escaping +into the night air. There was no window in front; but a square +hole in the door was glazed with a single pane, through which red, +comfortable rays now stretched out upon the ivied wall in front. +Voices were to be heard inside. + +Oak's hand skimmed the surface of the door with fingers extended to +an Elymas-the-Sorcerer pattern, till he found a leathern strap, which +he pulled. This lifted a wooden latch, and the door swung open. + +The room inside was lighted only by the ruddy glow from the kiln +mouth, which shone over the floor with the streaming horizontality +of the setting sun, and threw upwards the shadows of all facial +irregularities in those assembled around. The stone-flag floor was +worn into a path from the doorway to the kiln, and into undulations +everywhere. A curved settle of unplaned oak stretched along one +side, and in a remote corner was a small bed and bedstead, the owner +and frequent occupier of which was the maltster. + +This aged man was now sitting opposite the fire, his frosty white +hair and beard overgrowing his gnarled figure like the grey moss and +lichen upon a leafless apple-tree. He wore breeches and the laced-up +shoes called ankle-jacks; he kept his eyes fixed upon the fire. + +Gabriel's nose was greeted by an atmosphere laden with the sweet +smell of new malt. The conversation (which seemed to have been +concerning the origin of the fire) immediately ceased, and every one +ocularly criticised him to the degree expressed by contracting the +flesh of their foreheads and looking at him with narrowed eyelids, as +if he had been a light too strong for their sight. Several exclaimed +meditatively, after this operation had been completed:-- + +"Oh, 'tis the new shepherd, 'a b'lieve." + +"We thought we heard a hand pawing about the door for the bobbin, but +weren't sure 'twere not a dead leaf blowed across," said another. +"Come in, shepherd; sure ye be welcome, though we don't know yer +name." + +"Gabriel Oak, that's my name, neighbours." + +The ancient maltster sitting in the midst turned at this--his turning +being as the turning of a rusty crane. + +"That's never Gable Oak's grandson over at Norcombe--never!" he said, +as a formula expressive of surprise, which nobody was supposed for a +moment to take literally. + +"My father and my grandfather were old men of the name of Gabriel," +said the shepherd, placidly. + +"Thought I knowed the man's face as I seed him on the rick!--thought +I did! And where be ye trading o't to now, shepherd?" + +"I'm thinking of biding here," said Mr. Oak. + +"Knowed yer grandfather for years and years!" continued the maltster, +the words coming forth of their own accord as if the momentum +previously imparted had been sufficient. + +"Ah--and did you!" + +"Knowed yer grandmother." + +"And her too!" + +"Likewise knowed yer father when he was a child. Why, my boy +Jacob there and your father were sworn brothers--that they were +sure--weren't ye, Jacob?" + +"Ay, sure," said his son, a young man about sixty-five, with a +semi-bald head and one tooth in the left centre of his upper jaw, +which made much of itself by standing prominent, like a milestone in +a bank. "But 'twas Joe had most to do with him. However, my son +William must have knowed the very man afore us--didn't ye, Billy, +afore ye left Norcombe?" + +"No, 'twas Andrew," said Jacob's son Billy, a child of forty, or +thereabouts, who manifested the peculiarity of possessing a cheerful +soul in a gloomy body, and whose whiskers were assuming a chinchilla +shade here and there. + +"I can mind Andrew," said Oak, "as being a man in the place when I +was quite a child." + +"Ay--the other day I and my youngest daughter, Liddy, were over at +my grandson's christening," continued Billy. "We were talking about +this very family, and 'twas only last Purification Day in this very +world, when the use-money is gied away to the second-best poor folk, +you know, shepherd, and I can mind the day because they all had to +traypse up to the vestry--yes, this very man's family." + +"Come, shepherd, and drink. 'Tis gape and swaller with us--a drap of +sommit, but not of much account," said the maltster, removing from +the fire his eyes, which were vermilion-red and bleared by gazing +into it for so many years. "Take up the God-forgive-me, Jacob. See +if 'tis warm, Jacob." + +Jacob stooped to the God-forgive-me, which was a two-handled tall mug +standing in the ashes, cracked and charred with heat: it was rather +furred with extraneous matter about the outside, especially in the +crevices of the handles, the innermost curves of which may not have +seen daylight for several years by reason of this encrustation +thereon--formed of ashes accidentally wetted with cider and baked +hard; but to the mind of any sensible drinker the cup was no +worse for that, being incontestably clean on the inside and about +the rim. It may be observed that such a class of mug is called a +God-forgive-me in Weatherbury and its vicinity for uncertain reasons; +probably because its size makes any given toper feel ashamed of +himself when he sees its bottom in drinking it empty. + +Jacob, on receiving the order to see if the liquor was warm enough, +placidly dipped his forefinger into it by way of thermometer, and +having pronounced it nearly of the proper degree, raised the cup and +very civilly attempted to dust some of the ashes from the bottom with +the skirt of his smock-frock, because Shepherd Oak was a stranger. + +"A clane cup for the shepherd," said the maltster commandingly. + +"No--not at all," said Gabriel, in a reproving tone of +considerateness. "I never fuss about dirt in its pure state, and +when I know what sort it is." Taking the mug he drank an inch or +more from the depth of its contents, and duly passed it to the +next man. "I wouldn't think of giving such trouble to neighbours +in washing up when there's so much work to be done in the world +already." continued Oak in a moister tone, after recovering from the +stoppage of breath which is occasioned by pulls at large mugs. + +"A right sensible man," said Jacob. + +"True, true; it can't be gainsaid!" observed a brisk young man--Mark +Clark by name, a genial and pleasant gentleman, whom to meet anywhere +in your travels was to know, to know was to drink with, and to drink +with was, unfortunately, to pay for. + +"And here's a mouthful of bread and bacon that mis'ess have sent, +shepherd. The cider will go down better with a bit of victuals. +Don't ye chaw quite close, shepherd, for I let the bacon fall in +the road outside as I was bringing it along, and may be 'tis rather +gritty. There, 'tis clane dirt; and we all know what that is, as you +say, and you bain't a particular man we see, shepherd." + +"True, true--not at all," said the friendly Oak. + +"Don't let your teeth quite meet, and you won't feel the sandiness at +all. Ah! 'tis wonderful what can be done by contrivance!" + +"My own mind exactly, neighbour." + +"Ah, he's his grandfer's own grandson!--his grandfer were just such a +nice unparticular man!" said the maltster. + +"Drink, Henry Fray--drink," magnanimously said Jan Coggan, a person +who held Saint-Simonian notions of share and share alike where liquor +was concerned, as the vessel showed signs of approaching him in its +gradual revolution among them. + +Having at this moment reached the end of a wistful gaze into mid-air, +Henry did not refuse. He was a man of more than middle age, with +eyebrows high up in his forehead, who laid it down that the law of +the world was bad, with a long-suffering look through his listeners +at the world alluded to, as it presented itself to his imagination. +He always signed his name "Henery"--strenuously insisting upon that +spelling, and if any passing schoolmaster ventured to remark that the +second "e" was superfluous and old-fashioned, he received the reply +that "H-e-n-e-r-y" was the name he was christened and the name he +would stick to--in the tone of one to whom orthographical differences +were matters which had a great deal to do with personal character. + +Mr. Jan Coggan, who had passed the cup to Henery, was a crimson man +with a spacious countenance and private glimmer in his eye, whose +name had appeared on the marriage register of Weatherbury and +neighbouring parishes as best man and chief witness in countless +unions of the previous twenty years; he also very frequently filled +the post of head godfather in baptisms of the subtly-jovial kind. + +"Come, Mark Clark--come. Ther's plenty more in the barrel," said +Jan. + +"Ay--that I will, 'tis my only doctor," replied Mr. Clark, who, +twenty years younger than Jan Coggan, revolved in the same orbit. He +secreted mirth on all occasions for special discharge at popular +parties. + +"Why, Joseph Poorgrass, ye han't had a drop!" said Mr. Coggan to a +self-conscious man in the background, thrusting the cup towards him. + +"Such a modest man as he is!" said Jacob Smallbury. "Why, ye've +hardly had strength of eye enough to look in our young mis'ess's +face, so I hear, Joseph?" + +All looked at Joseph Poorgrass with pitying reproach. + +"No--I've hardly looked at her at all," simpered Joseph, reducing his +body smaller whilst talking, apparently from a meek sense of undue +prominence. "And when I seed her, 'twas nothing but blushes with +me!" + +"Poor feller," said Mr. Clark. + +"'Tis a curious nature for a man," said Jan Coggan. + +"Yes," continued Joseph Poorgrass--his shyness, which was so painful +as a defect, filling him with a mild complacency now that it was +regarded as an interesting study. "'Twere blush, blush, blush with +me every minute of the time, when she was speaking to me." + +"I believe ye, Joseph Poorgrass, for we all know ye to be a very +bashful man." + +"'Tis a' awkward gift for a man, poor soul," said the maltster. "And +how long have ye have suffered from it, Joseph?" [a] + + [Transcriber's note a: Alternate text, appears in all three + editions on hand: "'Tis a' awkward gift for a man, poor soul," + said the maltster. "And ye have suffered from it a long time, we + know." + + "Ay, ever since..."] + +"Oh, ever since I was a boy. Yes--mother was concerned to her heart +about it--yes. But 'twas all nought." + +"Did ye ever go into the world to try and stop it, Joseph Poorgrass?" + +"Oh ay, tried all sorts o' company. They took me to Greenhill +Fair, and into a great gay jerry-go-nimble show, where there were +women-folk riding round--standing upon horses, with hardly anything +on but their smocks; but it didn't cure me a morsel. And then I +was put errand-man at the Women's Skittle Alley at the back of the +Tailor's Arms in Casterbridge. 'Twas a horrible sinful situation, +and a very curious place for a good man. I had to stand and look +ba'dy people in the face from morning till night; but 'twas no use--I +was just as bad as ever after all. Blushes hev been in the family +for generations. There, 'tis a happy providence that I be no worse." + +"True," said Jacob Smallbury, deepening his thoughts to a profounder +view of the subject. "'Tis a thought to look at, that ye might have +been worse; but even as you be, 'tis a very bad affliction for 'ee, +Joseph. For ye see, shepherd, though 'tis very well for a woman, +dang it all, 'tis awkward for a man like him, poor feller?" + +"'Tis--'tis," said Gabriel, recovering from a meditation. "Yes, very +awkward for the man." + +"Ay, and he's very timid, too," observed Jan Coggan. "Once he had +been working late at Yalbury Bottom, and had had a drap of drink, and +lost his way as he was coming home-along through Yalbury Wood, didn't +ye, Master Poorgrass?" + +"No, no, no; not that story!" expostulated the modest man, forcing a +laugh to bury his concern. + +"--And so 'a lost himself quite," continued Mr. Coggan, with an +impassive face, implying that a true narrative, like time and tide, +must run its course and would respect no man. "And as he was coming +along in the middle of the night, much afeared, and not able to +find his way out of the trees nohow, 'a cried out, 'Man-a-lost! +man-a-lost!' A owl in a tree happened to be crying 'Whoo-whoo-whoo!' +as owls do, you know, shepherd" (Gabriel nodded), "and Joseph, all in +a tremble, said, 'Joseph Poorgrass, of Weatherbury, sir!'" + +"No, no, now--that's too much!" said the timid man, becoming a man +of brazen courage all of a sudden. "I didn't say SIR. I'll take my +oath I didn't say 'Joseph Poorgrass o' Weatherbury, sir.' No, no; +what's right is right, and I never said sir to the bird, knowing very +well that no man of a gentleman's rank would be hollering there at +that time o' night. 'Joseph Poorgrass of Weatherbury,'--that's every +word I said, and I shouldn't ha' said that if 't hadn't been for +Keeper Day's metheglin.... There, 'twas a merciful thing it ended +where it did." + +The question of which was right being tacitly waived by the company, +Jan went on meditatively:-- + +"And he's the fearfullest man, bain't ye, Joseph? Ay, another time +ye were lost by Lambing-Down Gate, weren't ye, Joseph?" + +"I was," replied Poorgrass, as if there were some conditions too +serious even for modesty to remember itself under, this being one. + +"Yes; that were the middle of the night, too. The gate would not +open, try how he would, and knowing there was the Devil's hand in it, +he kneeled down." + +"Ay," said Joseph, acquiring confidence from the warmth of the fire, +the cider, and a perception of the narrative capabilities of the +experience alluded to. "My heart died within me, that time; but I +kneeled down and said the Lord's Prayer, and then the Belief right +through, and then the Ten Commandments, in earnest prayer. But +no, the gate wouldn't open; and then I went on with Dearly Beloved +Brethren, and, thinks I, this makes four, and 'tis all I know out +of book, and if this don't do it nothing will, and I'm a lost man. +Well, when I got to Saying After Me, I rose from my knees and found +the gate would open--yes, neighbours, the gate opened the same as +ever." + +A meditation on the obvious inference was indulged in by all, and +during its continuance each directed his vision into the ashpit, +which glowed like a desert in the tropics under a vertical sun, +shaping their eyes long and liny, partly because of the light, partly +from the depth of the subject discussed. + +Gabriel broke the silence. "What sort of a place is this to live at, +and what sort of a mis'ess is she to work under?" Gabriel's bosom +thrilled gently as he thus slipped under the notice of the assembly +the inner-most subject of his heart. + +"We d' know little of her--nothing. She only showed herself a few +days ago. Her uncle was took bad, and the doctor was called with his +world-wide skill; but he couldn't save the man. As I take it, she's +going to keep on the farm. + +"That's about the shape o't, 'a b'lieve," said Jan Coggan. "Ay, 'tis +a very good family. I'd as soon be under 'em as under one here and +there. Her uncle was a very fair sort of man. Did ye know en, +shepherd--a bachelor-man?" + +"Not at all." + +"I used to go to his house a-courting my first wife, Charlotte, +who was his dairymaid. Well, a very good-hearted man were Farmer +Everdene, and I being a respectable young fellow was allowed to call +and see her and drink as much ale as I liked, but not to carry away +any--outside my skin I mane of course." + +"Ay, ay, Jan Coggan; we know yer maning." + +"And so you see 'twas beautiful ale, and I wished to value his +kindness as much as I could, and not to be so ill-mannered as to +drink only a thimbleful, which would have been insulting the man's +generosity--" + +"True, Master Coggan, 'twould so," corroborated Mark Clark. + +"--And so I used to eat a lot of salt fish afore going, and then by +the time I got there I were as dry as a lime-basket--so thorough dry +that that ale would slip down--ah, 'twould slip down sweet! Happy +times! Heavenly times! Such lovely drunks as I used to have at that +house! You can mind, Jacob? You used to go wi' me sometimes." + +"I can--I can," said Jacob. "That one, too, that we had at Buck's +Head on a White Monday was a pretty tipple." + +"'Twas. But for a wet of the better class, that brought you no +nearer to the horned man than you were afore you begun, there was +none like those in Farmer Everdene's kitchen. Not a single damn +allowed; no, not a bare poor one, even at the most cheerful moment +when all were blindest, though the good old word of sin thrown in +here and there at such times is a great relief to a merry soul." + +"True," said the maltster. "Nater requires her swearing at the +regular times, or she's not herself; and unholy exclamations is a +necessity of life." + +"But Charlotte," continued Coggan--"not a word of the sort would +Charlotte allow, nor the smallest item of taking in vain.... Ay, +poor Charlotte, I wonder if she had the good fortune to get into +Heaven when 'a died! But 'a was never much in luck's way, and +perhaps 'a went downwards after all, poor soul." + +"And did any of you know Miss Everdene's father and mother?" inquired +the shepherd, who found some difficulty in keeping the conversation +in the desired channel. + +"I knew them a little," said Jacob Smallbury; "but they were +townsfolk, and didn't live here. They've been dead for years. +Father, what sort of people were mis'ess' father and mother?" + +"Well," said the maltster, "he wasn't much to look at; but she was a +lovely woman. He was fond enough of her as his sweetheart." + +"Used to kiss her scores and long-hundreds o' times, so 'twas said," +observed Coggan. + +"He was very proud of her, too, when they were married, as I've been +told," said the maltster. + +"Ay," said Coggan. "He admired her so much that he used to light the +candle three times a night to look at her." + +"Boundless love; I shouldn't have supposed it in the universe!" +murmured Joseph Poorgrass, who habitually spoke on a large scale in +his moral reflections. + +"Well, to be sure," said Gabriel. + +"Oh, 'tis true enough. I knowed the man and woman both well. Levi +Everdene--that was the man's name, sure. 'Man,' saith I in my +hurry, but he were of a higher circle of life than that--'a was a +gentleman-tailor really, worth scores of pounds. And he became a +very celebrated bankrupt two or three times." + +"Oh, I thought he was quite a common man!" said Joseph. + +"Oh no, no! That man failed for heaps of money; hundreds in gold and +silver." + +The maltster being rather short of breath, Mr. Coggan, after absently +scrutinising a coal which had fallen among the ashes, took up the +narrative, with a private twirl of his eye:-- + +"Well, now, you'd hardly believe it, but that man--our Miss +Everdene's father--was one of the ficklest husbands alive, after a +while. Understand? 'a didn't want to be fickle, but he couldn't help +it. The pore feller were faithful and true enough to her in his +wish, but his heart would rove, do what he would. He spoke to me in +real tribulation about it once. 'Coggan,' he said, 'I could never +wish for a handsomer woman than I've got, but feeling she's ticketed +as my lawful wife, I can't help my wicked heart wandering, do what I +will.' But at last I believe he cured it by making her take off her +wedding-ring and calling her by her maiden name as they sat together +after the shop was shut, and so 'a would get to fancy she was only +his sweetheart, and not married to him at all. And as soon as he +could thoroughly fancy he was doing wrong and committing the seventh, +'a got to like her as well as ever, and they lived on a perfect +picture of mutel love." + +"Well, 'twas a most ungodly remedy," murmured Joseph Poorgrass; "but +we ought to feel deep cheerfulness that a happy Providence kept it +from being any worse. You see, he might have gone the bad road and +given his eyes to unlawfulness entirely--yes, gross unlawfulness, so +to say it." + +"You see," said Billy Smallbury, "The man's will was to do right, +sure enough, but his heart didn't chime in." + +"He got so much better, that he was quite godly in his later years, +wasn't he, Jan?" said Joseph Poorgrass. "He got himself confirmed +over again in a more serious way, and took to saying 'Amen' almost as +loud as the clerk, and he liked to copy comforting verses from the +tombstones. He used, too, to hold the money-plate at Let Your Light +so Shine, and stand godfather to poor little come-by-chance children; +and he kept a missionary box upon his table to nab folks unawares +when they called; yes, and he would box the charity-boys' ears, if +they laughed in church, till they could hardly stand upright, and do +other deeds of piety natural to the saintly inclined." + +"Ay, at that time he thought of nothing but high things," added Billy +Smallbury. "One day Parson Thirdly met him and said, 'Good-Morning, +Mister Everdene; 'tis a fine day!' 'Amen' said Everdene, quite +absent-like, thinking only of religion when he seed a parson. Yes, +he was a very Christian man." + +"Their daughter was not at all a pretty chiel at that time," said +Henery Fray. "Never should have thought she'd have growed up such a +handsome body as she is." + +"'Tis to be hoped her temper is as good as her face." + +"Well, yes; but the baily will have most to do with the business and +ourselves. Ah!" Henery gazed into the ashpit, and smiled volumes of +ironical knowledge. + +"A queer Christian, like the Devil's head in a cowl, [1] as the +saying is," volunteered Mark Clark. + + [Footnote 1: This phrase is a conjectural emendation of the + unintelligible expression, "as the Devil said to the Owl," + used by the natives.] + +"He is," said Henery, implying that irony must cease at a certain +point. "Between we two, man and man, I believe that man would as +soon tell a lie Sundays as working-days--that I do so." + +"Good faith, you do talk!" said Gabriel. + +"True enough," said the man of bitter moods, looking round upon +the company with the antithetic laughter that comes from a keener +appreciation of the miseries of life than ordinary men are capable +of. "Ah, there's people of one sort, and people of another, but +that man--bless your souls!" + +Gabriel thought fit to change the subject. "You must be a very aged +man, malter, to have sons growed mild and ancient," he remarked. + +"Father's so old that 'a can't mind his age, can ye, father?" +interposed Jacob. "And he's growed terrible crooked too, lately," +Jacob continued, surveying his father's figure, which was rather +more bowed than his own. "Really one may say that father there is +three-double." + +"Crooked folk will last a long while," said the maltster, grimly, and +not in the best humour. + +"Shepherd would like to hear the pedigree of yer life, father-- +wouldn't ye, shepherd?" + +"Ay that I should," said Gabriel with the heartiness of a man who had +longed to hear it for several months. "What may your age be, +malter?" + +The maltster cleared his throat in an exaggerated form for emphasis, +and elongating his gaze to the remotest point of the ashpit, said, in +the slow speech justifiable when the importance of a subject is so +generally felt that any mannerism must be tolerated in getting at it, +"Well, I don't mind the year I were born in, but perhaps I can reckon +up the places I've lived at, and so get it that way. I bode at +Upper Longpuddle across there" (nodding to the north) "till I were +eleven. I bode seven at Kingsbere" (nodding to the east) "where +I took to malting. I went therefrom to Norcombe, and malted +there two-and-twenty years, and-two-and-twenty years I was there +turnip-hoeing and harvesting. Ah, I knowed that old place, Norcombe, +years afore you were thought of, Master Oak" (Oak smiled sincere +belief in the fact). "Then I malted at Durnover four year, and +four year turnip-hoeing; and I was fourteen times eleven months at +Millpond St. Jude's" (nodding north-west-by-north). "Old Twills +wouldn't hire me for more than eleven months at a time, to keep me +from being chargeable to the parish if so be I was disabled. Then I +was three year at Mellstock, and I've been here one-and-thirty year +come Candlemas. How much is that?" + +"Hundred and seventeen," chuckled another old gentleman, given to +mental arithmetic and little conversation, who had hitherto sat +unobserved in a corner. + +"Well, then, that's my age," said the maltster, emphatically. + +"O no, father!" said Jacob. "Your turnip-hoeing were in the summer +and your malting in the winter of the same years, and ye don't ought +to count-both halves, father." + +"Chok' it all! I lived through the summers, didn't I? That's my +question. I suppose ye'll say next I be no age at all to speak of?" + +"Sure we shan't," said Gabriel, soothingly. + +"Ye be a very old aged person, malter," attested Jan Coggan, also +soothingly. "We all know that, and ye must have a wonderful talented +constitution to be able to live so long, mustn't he, neighbours?" + +"True, true; ye must, malter, wonderful," said the meeting +unanimously. + +The maltster, being now pacified, was even generous enough to +voluntarily disparage in a slight degree the virtue of having lived a +great many years, by mentioning that the cup they were drinking out +of was three years older than he. + +While the cup was being examined, the end of Gabriel Oak's flute +became visible over his smock-frock pocket, and Henery Fray +exclaimed, "Surely, shepherd, I seed you blowing into a great flute +by now at Casterbridge?" + +"You did," said Gabriel, blushing faintly. "I've been in great +trouble, neighbours, and was driven to it. I used not to be so poor +as I be now." + +"Never mind, heart!" said Mark Clark. "You should take it +careless-like, shepherd, and your time will come. But we could thank +ye for a tune, if ye bain't too tired?" + +"Neither drum nor trumpet have I heard since Christmas," said Jan +Coggan. "Come, raise a tune, Master Oak!" + +"Ay, that I will," said Gabriel, pulling out his flute and putting it +together. "A poor tool, neighbours; but such as I can do ye shall +have and welcome." + +Oak then struck up "Jockey to the Fair," and played that sparkling +melody three times through, accenting the notes in the third round in +a most artistic and lively manner by bending his body in small jerks +and tapping with his foot to beat time. + +"He can blow the flute very well--that 'a can," said a young married +man, who having no individuality worth mentioning was known as "Susan +Tall's husband." He continued, "I'd as lief as not be able to blow +into a flute as well as that." + +"He's a clever man, and 'tis a true comfort for us to have such a +shepherd," murmured Joseph Poorgrass, in a soft cadence. "We ought +to feel full o' thanksgiving that he's not a player of ba'dy songs +instead of these merry tunes; for 'twould have been just as easy for +God to have made the shepherd a loose low man--a man of iniquity, so +to speak it--as what he is. Yes, for our wives' and daughters' sakes +we should feel real thanksgiving." + +"True, true,--real thanksgiving!" dashed in Mark Clark conclusively, +not feeling it to be of any consequence to his opinion that he had +only heard about a word and three-quarters of what Joseph had said. + +"Yes," added Joseph, beginning to feel like a man in the Bible; "for +evil do thrive so in these times that ye may be as much deceived in +the cleanest shaved and whitest shirted man as in the raggedest tramp +upon the turnpike, if I may term it so." + +"Ay, I can mind yer face now, shepherd," said Henery Fray, +criticising Gabriel with misty eyes as he entered upon his second +tune. "Yes--now I see 'ee blowing into the flute I know 'ee to be +the same man I see play at Casterbridge, for yer mouth were scrimped +up and yer eyes a-staring out like a strangled man's--just as they be +now." + +"'Tis a pity that playing the flute should make a man look such a +scarecrow," observed Mr. Mark Clark, with additional criticism of +Gabriel's countenance, the latter person jerking out, with the +ghastly grimace required by the instrument, the chorus of "Dame +Durden:"-- + + 'Twas Moll' and Bet', and Doll' and Kate', + And Dor'-othy Drag'-gle Tail'. + +"I hope you don't mind that young man's bad manners in naming your +features?" whispered Joseph to Gabriel. + +"Not at all," said Mr. Oak. + +"For by nature ye be a very handsome man, shepherd," continued Joseph +Poorgrass, with winning sauvity. + +"Ay, that ye be, shepard," said the company. + +"Thank you very much," said Oak, in the modest tone good manners +demanded, thinking, however, that he would never let Bathsheba see +him playing the flute; in this resolve showing a discretion equal to +that related to its sagacious inventress, the divine Minerva herself. + +"Ah, when I and my wife were married at Norcombe Church," said the +old maltster, not pleased at finding himself left out of the subject, +"we were called the handsomest couple in the neighbourhood--everybody +said so." + +"Danged if ye bain't altered now, malter," said a voice with the +vigour natural to the enunciation of a remarkably evident truism. +It came from the old man in the background, whose offensiveness and +spiteful ways were barely atoned for by the occasional chuckle he +contributed to general laughs. + +"O no, no," said Gabriel. + +"Don't ye play no more shepherd" said Susan Tall's husband, the young +married man who had spoken once before. "I must be moving and when +there's tunes going on I seem as if hung in wires. If I thought +after I'd left that music was still playing, and I not there, I +should be quite melancholy-like." + +"What's yer hurry then, Laban?" inquired Coggan. "You used to bide +as late as the latest." + +"Well, ye see, neighbours, I was lately married to a woman, and she's +my vocation now, and so ye see--" The young man halted lamely. + +"New Lords new laws, as the saying is, I suppose," remarked Coggan. + +"Ay, 'a b'lieve--ha, ha!" said Susan Tall's husband, in a tone +intended to imply his habitual reception of jokes without minding +them at all. The young man then wished them good-night and withdrew. + +Henery Fray was the first to follow. Then Gabriel arose and went off +with Jan Coggan, who had offered him a lodging. A few minutes later, +when the remaining ones were on their legs and about to depart, Fray +came back again in a hurry. Flourishing his finger ominously he +threw a gaze teeming with tidings just where his eye alighted by +accident, which happened to be in Joseph Poorgrass's face. + +"O--what's the matter, what's the matter, Henery?" said Joseph, +starting back. + +"What's a-brewing, Henrey?" asked Jacob and Mark Clark. + +"Baily Pennyways--Baily Pennyways--I said so; yes, I said so!" + +"What, found out stealing anything?" + +"Stealing it is. The news is, that after Miss Everdene got home she +went out again to see all was safe, as she usually do, and coming in +found Baily Pennyways creeping down the granary steps with half a a +bushel of barley. She fleed at him like a cat--never such a tomboy +as she is--of course I speak with closed doors?" + +"You do--you do, Henery." + +"She fleed at him, and, to cut a long story short, he owned to having +carried off five sack altogether, upon her promising not to persecute +him. Well, he's turned out neck and crop, and my question is, who's +going to be baily now?" + +The question was such a profound one that Henery was obliged to drink +there and then from the large cup till the bottom was distinctly +visible inside. Before he had replaced it on the table, in came the +young man, Susan Tall's husband, in a still greater hurry. + +"Have ye heard the news that's all over parish?" + +"About Baily Pennyways?" + +"But besides that?" + +"No--not a morsel of it!" they replied, looking into the very midst +of Laban Tall as if to meet his words half-way down his throat. + +"What a night of horrors!" murmured Joseph Poorgrass, waving his +hands spasmodically. "I've had the news-bell ringing in my left ear +quite bad enough for a murder, and I've seen a magpie all alone!" + +"Fanny Robin--Miss Everdene's youngest servant--can't be found. +They've been wanting to lock up the door these two hours, but she +isn't come in. And they don't know what to do about going to bed for +fear of locking her out. They wouldn't be so concerned if she hadn't +been noticed in such low spirits these last few days, and Maryann d' +think the beginning of a crowner's inquest has happened to the poor +girl." + +"Oh--'tis burned--'tis burned!" came from Joseph Poorgrass's dry +lips. + +"No--'tis drowned!" said Tall. + +"Or 'tis her father's razor!" suggested Billy Smallbury, with a vivid +sense of detail. + +"Well--Miss Everdene wants to speak to one or two of us before we go +to bed. What with this trouble about the baily, and now about the +girl, mis'ess is almost wild." + +They all hastened up the lane to the farmhouse, excepting the old +maltster, whom neither news, fire, rain, nor thunder could draw from +his hole. There, as the others' footsteps died away he sat down +again and continued gazing as usual into the furnace with his red, +bleared eyes. + +From the bedroom window above their heads Bathsheba's head and +shoulders, robed in mystic white, were dimly seen extended into the +air. + +"Are any of my men among you?" she said anxiously. + +"Yes, ma'am, several," said Susan Tall's husband. + +"To-morrow morning I wish two or three of you to make inquiries in +the villages round if they have seen such a person as Fanny Robin. +Do it quietly; there is no reason for alarm as yet. She must have +left whilst we were all at the fire." + +"I beg yer pardon, but had she any young man courting her in the +parish, ma'am?" asked Jacob Smallbury. + +"I don't know," said Bathsheba. + +"I've never heard of any such thing, ma'am," said two or three. + +"It is hardly likely, either," continued Bathsheba. "For any lover +of hers might have come to the house if he had been a respectable +lad. The most mysterious matter connected with her absence--indeed, +the only thing which gives me serious alarm--is that she was seen +to go out of the house by Maryann with only her indoor working gown +on--not even a bonnet." + +"And you mean, ma'am, excusing my words, that a young woman would +hardly go to see her young man without dressing up," said Jacob, +turning his mental vision upon past experiences. "That's true--she +would not, ma'am." + +"She had, I think, a bundle, though I couldn't see very well," said a +female voice from another window, which seemed that of Maryann. "But +she had no young man about here. Hers lives in Casterbridge, and I +believe he's a soldier." + +"Do you know his name?" Bathsheba said. + +"No, mistress; she was very close about it." + +"Perhaps I might be able to find out if I went to Casterbridge +barracks," said William Smallbury. + +"Very well; if she doesn't return to-morrow, mind you go there and try +to discover which man it is, and see him. I feel more responsible +than I should if she had had any friends or relations alive. I do +hope she has come to no harm through a man of that kind.... And then +there's this disgraceful affair of the bailiff--but I can't speak of +him now." + +Bathsheba had so many reasons for uneasiness that it seemed she did +not think it worth while to dwell upon any particular one. "Do as I +told you, then," she said in conclusion, closing the casement. + +"Ay, ay, mistress; we will," they replied, and moved away. + +That night at Coggan's, Gabriel Oak, beneath the screen of closed +eyelids, was busy with fancies, and full of movement, like a river +flowing rapidly under its ice. Night had always been the time at +which he saw Bathsheba most vividly, and through the slow hours +of shadow he tenderly regarded her image now. It is rarely that +the pleasures of the imagination will compensate for the pain of +sleeplessness, but they possibly did with Oak to-night, for the +delight of merely seeing her effaced for the time his perception +of the great difference between seeing and possessing. + +He also thought of plans for fetching his few utensils and books from +Norcombe. _The Young Man's Best Companion_, _The Farrier's Sure +Guide_, _The Veterinary Surgeon_, _Paradise Lost_, _The Pilgrim's +Progress_, _Robinson Crusoe_, Ash's _Dictionary_, and Walkingame's +_Arithmetic_, constituted his library; and though a limited series, +it was one from which he had acquired more sound information by +diligent perusal than many a man of opportunities has done from a +furlong of laden shelves. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +THE HOMESTEAD--A VISITOR--HALF-CONFIDENCES + + +By daylight, the bower of Oak's new-found mistress, Bathsheba +Everdene, presented itself as a hoary building, of the early stage of +Classic Renaissance as regards its architecture, and of a proportion +which told at a glance that, as is so frequently the case, it had +once been the memorial hall upon a small estate around it, now +altogether effaced as a distinct property, and merged in the vast +tract of a non-resident landlord, which comprised several such modest +demesnes. + +Fluted pilasters, worked from the solid stone, decorated its front, +and above the roof the chimneys were panelled or columnar, some coped +gables with finials and like features still retaining traces of their +Gothic extraction. Soft brown mosses, like faded velveteen, formed +cushions upon the stone tiling, and tufts of the houseleek or +sengreen sprouted from the eaves of the low surrounding buildings. A +gravel walk leading from the door to the road in front was encrusted +at the sides with more moss--here it was a silver-green variety, the +nut-brown of the gravel being visible to the width of only a foot +or two in the centre. This circumstance, and the generally sleepy +air of the whole prospect here, together with the animated and +contrasting state of the reverse façade, suggested to the imagination +that on the adaptation of the building for farming purposes the +vital principle of the house had turned round inside its body to +face the other way. Reversals of this kind, strange deformities, +tremendous paralyses, are often seen to be inflicted by trade upon +edifices--either individual or in the aggregate as streets and +towns--which were originally planned for pleasure alone. + +Lively voices were heard this morning in the upper rooms, the +main staircase to which was of hard oak, the balusters, heavy as +bed-posts, being turned and moulded in the quaint fashion of their +century, the handrail as stout as a parapet-top, and the stairs +themselves continually twisting round like a person trying to look +over his shoulder. Going up, the floors above were found to have a +very irregular surface, rising to ridges, sinking into valleys; and +being just then uncarpeted, the face of the boards was seen to be +eaten into innumerable vermiculations. Every window replied by a +clang to the opening and shutting of every door, a tremble followed +every bustling movement, and a creak accompanied a walker about the +house, like a spirit, wherever he went. + +In the room from which the conversation proceeded Bathsheba and her +servant-companion, Liddy Smallbury, were to be discovered sitting +upon the floor, and sorting a complication of papers, books, bottles, +and rubbish spread out thereon--remnants from the household stores +of the late occupier. Liddy, the maltster's great-granddaughter, +was about Bathsheba's equal in age, and her face was a prominent +advertisement of the light-hearted English country girl. The beauty +her features might have lacked in form was amply made up for by +perfection of hue, which at this winter-time was the softened +ruddiness on a surface of high rotundity that we meet with in a +Terburg or a Gerard Douw; and, like the presentations of those great +colourists, it was a face which kept well back from the boundary +between comeliness and the ideal. Though elastic in nature she was +less daring than Bathsheba, and occasionally showed some earnestness, +which consisted half of genuine feeling, and half of mannerliness +superadded by way of duty. + +Through a partly-opened door the noise of a scrubbing-brush led up to +the charwoman, Maryann Money, a person who for a face had a circular +disc, furrowed less by age than by long gazes of perplexity at +distant objects. To think of her was to get good-humoured; to speak +of her was to raise the image of a dried Normandy pippin. + +"Stop your scrubbing a moment," said Bathsheba through the door to +her. "I hear something." + +Maryann suspended the brush. + +The tramp of a horse was apparent, approaching the front of the +building. The paces slackened, turned in at the wicket, and, what +was most unusual, came up the mossy path close to the door. The door +was tapped with the end of a crop or stick. + +"What impertinence!" said Liddy, in a low voice. "To ride up the +footpath like that! Why didn't he stop at the gate? Lord! 'Tis a +gentleman! I see the top of his hat." + +"Be quiet!" said Bathsheba. + +The further expression of Liddy's concern was continued by aspect +instead of narrative. + +"Why doesn't Mrs. Coggan go to the door?" Bathsheba continued. + +Rat-tat-tat-tat resounded more decisively from Bathsheba's oak. + +"Maryann, you go!" said she, fluttering under the onset of a crowd of +romantic possibilities. + +"Oh ma'am--see, here's a mess!" + +The argument was unanswerable after a glance at Maryann. + +"Liddy--you must," said Bathsheba. + +Liddy held up her hands and arms, coated with dust from the rubbish +they were sorting, and looked imploringly at her mistress. + +"There--Mrs. Coggan is going!" said Bathsheba, exhaling her relief +in the form of a long breath which had lain in her bosom a minute or +more. + +The door opened, and a deep voice said-- + +"Is Miss Everdene at home?" + +"I'll see, sir," said Mrs. Coggan, and in a minute appeared in the +room. + +"Dear, what a thirtover place this world is!" continued Mrs. Coggan +(a wholesome-looking lady who had a voice for each class of remark +according to the emotion involved; who could toss a pancake or twirl +a mop with the accuracy of pure mathematics, and who at this moment +showed hands shaggy with fragments of dough and arms encrusted with +flour). "I am never up to my elbows, Miss, in making a pudding but +one of two things do happen--either my nose must needs begin +tickling, and I can't live without scratching it, or somebody knocks +at the door. Here's Mr. Boldwood wanting to see you, Miss Everdene." + +A woman's dress being a part of her countenance, and any disorder in +the one being of the same nature with a malformation or wound in the +other, Bathsheba said at once-- + +"I can't see him in this state. Whatever shall I do?" + +Not-at-homes were hardly naturalized in Weatherbury farmhouses, so +Liddy suggested--"Say you're a fright with dust, and can't come +down." + +"Yes--that sounds very well," said Mrs. Coggan, critically. + +"Say I can't see him--that will do." + +Mrs. Coggan went downstairs, and returned the answer as requested, +adding, however, on her own responsibility, "Miss is dusting bottles, +sir, and is quite a object--that's why 'tis." + +"Oh, very well," said the deep voice indifferently. "All I wanted to +ask was, if anything had been heard of Fanny Robin?" + +"Nothing, sir--but we may know to-night. William Smallbury is gone +to Casterbridge, where her young man lives, as is supposed, and the +other men be inquiring about everywhere." + +The horse's tramp then recommenced and retreated, and the door +closed. + +"Who is Mr. Boldwood?" said Bathsheba. + +"A gentleman-farmer at Little Weatherbury." + +"Married?" + +"No, miss." + +"How old is he?" + +"Forty, I should say--very handsome--rather stern-looking--and rich." + +"What a bother this dusting is! I am always in some unfortunate +plight or other," Bathsheba said, complainingly. "Why should he +inquire about Fanny?" + +"Oh, because, as she had no friends in her childhood, he took her and +put her to school, and got her her place here under your uncle. He's +a very kind man that way, but Lord--there!" + +"What?" + +"Never was such a hopeless man for a woman! He's been courted by +sixes and sevens--all the girls, gentle and simple, for miles round, +have tried him. Jane Perkins worked at him for two months like a +slave, and the two Miss Taylors spent a year upon him, and he cost +Farmer Ives's daughter nights of tears and twenty pounds' worth of +new clothes; but Lord--the money might as well have been thrown out +of the window." + +A little boy came up at this moment and looked in upon them. This +child was one of the Coggans, who, with the Smallburys, were as +common among the families of this district as the Avons and Derwents +among our rivers. He always had a loosened tooth or a cut finger to +show to particular friends, which he did with an air of being thereby +elevated above the common herd of afflictionless humanity--to which +exhibition people were expected to say "Poor child!" with a dash of +congratulation as well as pity. + +"I've got a pen-nee!" said Master Coggan in a scanning measure. + +"Well--who gave it you, Teddy?" said Liddy. + +"Mis-terr Bold-wood! He gave it to me for opening the gate." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said, 'Where are you going, my little man?' and I said, 'To Miss +Everdene's please,' and he said, 'She is a staid woman, isn't she, my +little man?' and I said, 'Yes.'" + +"You naughty child! What did you say that for?" + +"'Cause he gave me the penny!" + +"What a pucker everything is in!" said Bathsheba, discontentedly +when the child had gone. "Get away, Maryann, or go on with your +scrubbing, or do something! You ought to be married by this time, +and not here troubling me!" + +"Ay, mistress--so I did. But what between the poor men I won't have, +and the rich men who won't have me, I stand as a pelican in the +wilderness!" + +"Did anybody ever want to marry you miss?" Liddy ventured to ask when +they were again alone. "Lots of 'em, I daresay?" + +Bathsheba paused, as if about to refuse a reply, but the temptation +to say yes, since it was really in her power was irresistible by +aspiring virginity, in spite of her spleen at having been published +as old. + +"A man wanted to once," she said, in a highly experienced tone, and +the image of Gabriel Oak, as the farmer, rose before her. + +"How nice it must seem!" said Liddy, with the fixed features of +mental realization. "And you wouldn't have him?" + +"He wasn't quite good enough for me." + +"How sweet to be able to disdain, when most of us are glad to say, +'Thank you!' I seem I hear it. 'No, sir--I'm your better.' or 'Kiss +my foot, sir; my face is for mouths of consequence.' And did you +love him, miss?" + +"Oh, no. But I rather liked him." + +"Do you now?" + +"Of course not--what footsteps are those I hear?" + +Liddy looked from a back window into the courtyard behind, which was +now getting low-toned and dim with the earliest films of night. A +crooked file of men was approaching the back door. The whole string +of trailing individuals advanced in the completest balance of +intention, like the remarkable creatures known as Chain Salpæ, which, +distinctly organized in other respects, have one will common to a +whole family. Some were, as usual, in snow-white smock-frocks of +Russia duck, and some in whitey-brown ones of drabbet--marked on the +wrists, breasts, backs, and sleeves with honeycomb-work. Two or +three women in pattens brought up the rear. + +"The Philistines be upon us," said Liddy, making her nose white +against the glass. + +"Oh, very well. Maryann, go down and keep them in the kitchen till I +am dressed, and then show them in to me in the hall." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +MISTRESS AND MEN + + +Half-an-hour later Bathsheba, in finished dress, and followed by +Liddy, entered the upper end of the old hall to find that her men had +all deposited themselves on a long form and a settle at the lower +extremity. She sat down at a table and opened the time-book, pen in +her hand, with a canvas money-bag beside her. From this she poured +a small heap of coin. Liddy chose a position at her elbow and began +to sew, sometimes pausing and looking round, or, with the air of +a privileged person, taking up one of the half-sovereigns lying +before her and surveying it merely as a work of art, while strictly +preventing her countenance from expressing any wish to possess it as +money. + +"Now before I begin, men," said Bathsheba, "I have two matters to +speak of. The first is that the bailiff is dismissed for thieving, +and that I have formed a resolution to have no bailiff at all, but to +manage everything with my own head and hands." + +The men breathed an audible breath of amazement. + +"The next matter is, have you heard anything of Fanny?" + +"Nothing, ma'am." + +"Have you done anything?" + +"I met Farmer Boldwood," said Jacob Smallbury, "and I went with him +and two of his men, and dragged Newmill Pond, but we found nothing." + +"And the new shepherd have been to Buck's Head, by Yalbury, thinking +she had gone there, but nobody had seed her," said Laban Tall. + +"Hasn't William Smallbury been to Casterbridge?" + +"Yes, ma'am, but he's not yet come home. He promised to be back by +six." + +"It wants a quarter to six at present," said Bathsheba, looking at +her watch. "I daresay he'll be in directly. Well, now then"--she +looked into the book--"Joseph Poorgrass, are you there?" + +"Yes, sir--ma'am I mane," said the person addressed. "I be the +personal name of Poorgrass." + +"And what are you?" + +"Nothing in my own eye. In the eye of other people--well, I don't +say it; though public thought will out." + +"What do you do on the farm?" + +"I do do carting things all the year, and in seed time I shoots the +rooks and sparrows, and helps at pig-killing, sir." + +"How much to you?" + +"Please nine and ninepence and a good halfpenny where 'twas a bad +one, sir--ma'am I mane." + +"Quite correct. Now here are ten shillings in addition as a small +present, as I am a new comer." + +Bathsheba blushed slightly at the sense of being generous in public, +and Henery Fray, who had drawn up towards her chair, lifted his +eyebrows and fingers to express amazement on a small scale. + +"How much do I owe you--that man in the corner--what's your name?" +continued Bathsheba. + +"Matthew Moon, ma'am," said a singular framework of clothes with +nothing of any consequence inside them, which advanced with the toes +in no definite direction forwards, but turned in or out as they +chanced to swing. + +"Matthew Mark, did you say?--speak out--I shall not hurt you," +inquired the young farmer, kindly. + +"Matthew Moon, mem," said Henery Fray, correctingly, from behind her +chair, to which point he had edged himself. + +"Matthew Moon," murmured Bathsheba, turning her bright eyes to the +book. "Ten and twopence halfpenny is the sum put down to you, I +see?" + +"Yes, mis'ess," said Matthew, as the rustle of wind among dead +leaves. + +"Here it is, and ten shillings. Now the next--Andrew Randle, you are +a new man, I hear. How come you to leave your last farm?" + +"P-p-p-p-p-pl-pl-pl-pl-l-l-l-l-ease, ma'am, p-p-p-p-pl-pl-pl-pl-please, +ma'am-please'm-please'm--" + +"'A's a stammering man, mem," said Henery Fray in an undertone, "and +they turned him away because the only time he ever did speak plain +he said his soul was his own, and other iniquities, to the squire. +'A can cuss, mem, as well as you or I, but 'a can't speak a common +speech to save his life." + +"Andrew Randle, here's yours--finish thanking me in a day or two. +Temperance Miller--oh, here's another, Soberness--both women I +suppose?" + +"Yes'm. Here we be, 'a b'lieve," was echoed in shrill unison. + +"What have you been doing?" + +"Tending thrashing-machine and wimbling haybonds, and saying 'Hoosh!' +to the cocks and hens when they go upon your seeds, and planting +Early Flourballs and Thompson's Wonderfuls with a dibble." + +"Yes--I see. Are they satisfactory women?" she inquired softly of +Henery Fray. + +"Oh mem--don't ask me! Yielding women--as scarlet a pair as ever +was!" groaned Henery under his breath. + +"Sit down." + +"Who, mem?" + +"Sit down." + +Joseph Poorgrass, in the background twitched, and his lips became +dry with fear of some terrible consequences, as he saw Bathsheba +summarily speaking, and Henery slinking off to a corner. + +"Now the next. Laban Tall, you'll stay on working for me?" + +"For you or anybody that pays me well, ma'am," replied the young +married man. + +"True--the man must live!" said a woman in the back quarter, who had +just entered with clicking pattens. + +"What woman is that?" Bathsheba asked. + +"I be his lawful wife!" continued the voice with greater prominence +of manner and tone. This lady called herself five-and-twenty, looked +thirty, passed as thirty-five, and was forty. She was a woman who +never, like some newly married, showed conjugal tenderness in public, +perhaps because she had none to show. + +"Oh, you are," said Bathsheba. "Well, Laban, will you stay on?" + +"Yes, he'll stay, ma'am!" said again the shrill tongue of Laban's +lawful wife. + +"Well, he can speak for himself, I suppose." + +"Oh Lord, not he, ma'am! A simple tool. Well enough, but a poor +gawkhammer mortal," the wife replied. + +"Heh-heh-heh!" laughed the married man with a hideous effort of +appreciation, for he was as irrepressibly good-humoured under ghastly +snubs as a parliamentary candidate on the hustings. + +The names remaining were called in the same manner. + +"Now I think I have done with you," said Bathsheba, closing the book +and shaking back a stray twine of hair. "Has William Smallbury +returned?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"The new shepherd will want a man under him," suggested Henery Fray, +trying to make himself official again by a sideway approach towards +her chair. + +"Oh--he will. Who can he have?" + +"Young Cain Ball is a very good lad," Henery said, "and Shepherd Oak +don't mind his youth?" he added, turning with an apologetic smile to +the shepherd, who had just appeared on the scene, and was now leaning +against the doorpost with his arms folded. + +"No, I don't mind that," said Gabriel. + +"How did Cain come by such a name?" asked Bathsheba. + +"Oh you see, mem, his pore mother, not being a Scripture-read woman, +made a mistake at his christening, thinking 'twas Abel killed Cain, +and called en Cain, meaning Abel all the time. The parson put it +right, but 'twas too late, for the name could never be got rid of in +the parish. 'Tis very unfortunate for the boy." + +"It is rather unfortunate." + +"Yes. However, we soften it down as much as we can, and call him +Cainy. Ah, pore widow-woman! she cried her heart out about it +almost. She was brought up by a very heathen father and mother, who +never sent her to church or school, and it shows how the sins of the +parents are visited upon the children, mem." + +Mr. Fray here drew up his features to the mild degree of melancholy +required when the persons involved in the given misfortune do not +belong to your own family. + +"Very well then, Cainey Ball to be under-shepherd. And you quite +understand your duties?--you I mean, Gabriel Oak?" + +"Quite well, I thank you, Miss Everdene," said Shepherd Oak from the +doorpost. "If I don't, I'll inquire." Gabriel was rather staggered +by the remarkable coolness of her manner. Certainly nobody without +previous information would have dreamt that Oak and the handsome +woman before whom he stood had ever been other than strangers. But +perhaps her air was the inevitable result of the social rise which +had advanced her from a cottage to a large house and fields. The +case is not unexampled in high places. When, in the writings of the +later poets, Jove and his family are found to have moved from their +cramped quarters on the peak of Olympus into the wide sky above it, +their words show a proportionate increase of arrogance and reserve. + +Footsteps were heard in the passage, combining in their character +the qualities both of weight and measure, rather at the expense of +velocity. + +(All.) "Here's Billy Smallbury come from Casterbridge." + +"And what's the news?" said Bathsheba, as William, after marching to +the middle of the hall, took a handkerchief from his hat and wiped +his forehead from its centre to its remoter boundaries. + +"I should have been sooner, miss," he said, "if it hadn't been for +the weather." He then stamped with each foot severely, and on +looking down his boots were perceived to be clogged with snow. + +"Come at last, is it?" said Henery. + +"Well, what about Fanny?" said Bathsheba. + +"Well, ma'am, in round numbers, she's run away with the soldiers," +said William. + +"No; not a steady girl like Fanny!" + +"I'll tell ye all particulars. When I got to Casterbridge Barracks, +they said, 'The Eleventh Dragoon-Guards be gone away, and new troops +have come.' The Eleventh left last week for Melchester and onwards. +The Route came from Government like a thief in the night, as is his +nature to, and afore the Eleventh knew it almost, they were on the +march. They passed near here." + +Gabriel had listened with interest. "I saw them go," he said. + +"Yes," continued William, "they pranced down the street playing 'The +Girl I Left Behind Me,' so 'tis said, in glorious notes of triumph. +Every looker-on's inside shook with the blows of the great drum to +his deepest vitals, and there was not a dry eye throughout the town +among the public-house people and the nameless women!" + +"But they're not gone to any war?" + +"No, ma'am; but they be gone to take the places of them who may, +which is very close connected. And so I said to myself, Fanny's +young man was one of the regiment, and she's gone after him. There, +ma'am, that's it in black and white." + +"Did you find out his name?" + +"No; nobody knew it. I believe he was higher in rank than a +private." + +Gabriel remained musing and said nothing, for he was in doubt. + +"Well, we are not likely to know more to-night, at any rate," +said Bathsheba. "But one of you had better run across to Farmer +Boldwood's and tell him that much." + +She then rose; but before retiring, addressed a few words to them +with a pretty dignity, to which her mourning dress added a soberness +that was hardly to be found in the words themselves. + +"Now mind, you have a mistress instead of a master. I don't yet know +my powers or my talents in farming; but I shall do my best, and if +you serve me well, so shall I serve you. Don't any unfair ones among +you (if there are any such, but I hope not) suppose that because I'm +a woman I don't understand the difference between bad goings-on and +good." + +(All.) "No'm!" + +(Liddy.) "Excellent well said." + +"I shall be up before you are awake; I shall be afield before you are +up; and I shall have breakfasted before you are afield. In short, I +shall astonish you all." + +(All.) "Yes'm!" + +"And so good-night." + +(All.) "Good-night, ma'am." + +Then this small thesmothete stepped from the table, and surged out of +the hall, her black silk dress licking up a few straws and dragging +them along with a scratching noise upon the floor. Liddy, elevating +her feelings to the occasion from a sense of grandeur, floated +off behind Bathsheba with a milder dignity not entirely free from +travesty, and the door was closed. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS--SNOW--A MEETING + + +For dreariness nothing could surpass a prospect in the outskirts of a +certain town and military station, many miles north of Weatherbury, +at a later hour on this same snowy evening--if that may be called a +prospect of which the chief constituent was darkness. + +It was a night when sorrow may come to the brightest without causing +any great sense of incongruity: when, with impressible persons, love +becomes solicitousness, hope sinks to misgiving, and faith to hope: +when the exercise of memory does not stir feelings of regret at +opportunities for ambition that have been passed by, and anticipation +does not prompt to enterprise. + +The scene was a public path, bordered on the left hand by a river, +behind which rose a high wall. On the right was a tract of land, +partly meadow and partly moor, reaching, at its remote verge, to a +wide undulating upland. + +The changes of the seasons are less obtrusive on spots of this +kind than amid woodland scenery. Still, to a close observer, they +are just as perceptible; the difference is that their media of +manifestation are less trite and familiar than such well-known ones +as the bursting of the buds or the fall of the leaf. Many are not +so stealthy and gradual as we may be apt to imagine in considering +the general torpidity of a moor or waste. Winter, in coming to the +country hereabout, advanced in well-marked stages, wherein might +have been successively observed the retreat of the snakes, the +transformation of the ferns, the filling of the pools, a rising of +fogs, the embrowning by frost, the collapse of the fungi, and an +obliteration by snow. + +This climax of the series had been reached to-night on the aforesaid +moor, and for the first time in the season its irregularities were +forms without features; suggestive of anything, proclaiming nothing, +and without more character than that of being the limit of something +else--the lowest layer of a firmament of snow. From this chaotic +skyful of crowding flakes the mead and moor momentarily received +additional clothing, only to appear momentarily more naked thereby. +The vast arch of cloud above was strangely low, and formed as it were +the roof of a large dark cavern, gradually sinking in upon its floor; +for the instinctive thought was that the snow lining the heavens and +that encrusting the earth would soon unite into one mass without any +intervening stratum of air at all. + +We turn our attention to the left-hand characteristics; which were +flatness in respect of the river, verticality in respect of the wall +behind it, and darkness as to both. These features made up the mass. +If anything could be darker than the sky, it was the wall, and if any +thing could be gloomier than the wall it was the river beneath. The +indistinct summit of the facade was notched and pronged by chimneys +here and there, and upon its face were faintly signified the oblong +shapes of windows, though only in the upper part. Below, down to the +water's edge, the flat was unbroken by hole or projection. + +An indescribable succession of dull blows, perplexing in their +regularity, sent their sound with difficulty through the fluffy +atmosphere. It was a neighbouring clock striking ten. The bell was +in the open air, and being overlaid with several inches of muffling +snow, had lost its voice for the time. + +About this hour the snow abated: ten flakes fell where twenty had +fallen, then one had the room of ten. Not long after a form moved +by the brink of the river. + +By its outline upon the colourless background, a close observer +might have seen that it was small. This was all that was positively +discoverable, though it seemed human. + +The shape went slowly along, but without much exertion, for the snow, +though sudden, was not as yet more than two inches deep. At this +time some words were spoken aloud:-- + +"One. Two. Three. Four. Five." + +Between each utterance the little shape advanced about half a dozen +yards. It was evident now that the windows high in the wall were +being counted. The word "Five" represented the fifth window from the +end of the wall. + +Here the spot stopped, and dwindled smaller. The figure was +stooping. Then a morsel of snow flew across the river towards the +fifth window. It smacked against the wall at a point several yards +from its mark. The throw was the idea of a man conjoined with the +execution of a woman. No man who had ever seen bird, rabbit, or +squirrel in his childhood, could possibly have thrown with such utter +imbecility as was shown here. + +Another attempt, and another; till by degrees the wall must have +become pimpled with the adhering lumps of snow. At last one fragment +struck the fifth window. + +The river would have been seen by day to be of that deep smooth sort +which races middle and sides with the same gliding precision, any +irregularities of speed being immediately corrected by a small +whirlpool. Nothing was heard in reply to the signal but the gurgle +and cluck of one of these invisible wheels--together with a few small +sounds which a sad man would have called moans, and a happy man +laughter--caused by the flapping of the waters against trifling +objects in other parts of the stream. + +The window was struck again in the same manner. + +Then a noise was heard, apparently produced by the opening of the +window. This was followed by a voice from the same quarter. + +"Who's there?" + +The tones were masculine, and not those of surprise. The high +wall being that of a barrack, and marriage being looked upon with +disfavour in the army, assignations and communications had probably +been made across the river before to-night. + +"Is it Sergeant Troy?" said the blurred spot in the snow, +tremulously. + +This person was so much like a mere shade upon the earth, and the +other speaker so much a part of the building, that one would have +said the wall was holding a conversation with the snow. + +"Yes," came suspiciously from the shadow. "What girl are you?" + +"Oh, Frank--don't you know me?" said the spot. "Your wife, Fanny +Robin." + +"Fanny!" said the wall, in utter astonishment. + +"Yes," said the girl, with a half-suppressed gasp of emotion. + +There was something in the woman's tone which is not that of the +wife, and there was a manner in the man which is rarely a husband's. +The dialogue went on: + +"How did you come here?" + +"I asked which was your window. Forgive me!" + +"I did not expect you to-night. Indeed, I did not think you would +come at all. It was a wonder you found me here. I am orderly +to-morrow." + +"You said I was to come." + +"Well--I said that you might." + +"Yes, I mean that I might. You are glad to see me, Frank?" + +"Oh yes--of course." + +"Can you--come to me!" + +"My dear Fan, no! The bugle has sounded, the barrack gates are +closed, and I have no leave. We are all of us as good as in the +county gaol till to-morrow morning." + +"Then I shan't see you till then!" The words were in a faltering +tone of disappointment. + +"How did you get here from Weatherbury?" + +"I walked--some part of the way--the rest by the carriers." + +"I am surprised." + +"Yes--so am I. And Frank, when will it be?" + +"What?" + +"That you promised." + +"I don't quite recollect." + +"O you do! Don't speak like that. It weighs me to the earth. It +makes me say what ought to be said first by you." + +"Never mind--say it." + +"O, must I?--it is, when shall we be married, Frank?" + +"Oh, I see. Well--you have to get proper clothes." + +"I have money. Will it be by banns or license?" + +"Banns, I should think." + +"And we live in two parishes." + +"Do we? What then?" + +"My lodgings are in St. Mary's, and this is not. So they will have +to be published in both." + +"Is that the law?" + +"Yes. O Frank--you think me forward, I am afraid! Don't, dear +Frank--will you--for I love you so. And you said lots of times you +would marry me, and--and--I--I--I--" + +"Don't cry, now! It is foolish. If I said so, of course I will." + +"And shall I put up the banns in my parish, and will you in yours?" + +"Yes" + +"To-morrow?" + +"Not to-morrow. We'll settle in a few days." + +"You have the permission of the officers?" + +"No, not yet." + +"O--how is it? You said you almost had before you left +Casterbridge." + +"The fact is, I forgot to ask. Your coming like this is so sudden +and unexpected." + +"Yes--yes--it is. It was wrong of me to worry you. I'll go away +now. Will you come and see me to-morrow, at Mrs. Twills's, in North +Street? I don't like to come to the Barracks. There are bad women +about, and they think me one." + +"Quite, so. I'll come to you, my dear. Good-night." + +"Good-night, Frank--good-night!" + +And the noise was again heard of a window closing. The little spot +moved away. When she passed the corner a subdued exclamation was +heard inside the wall. + +"Ho--ho--Sergeant--ho--ho!" An expostulation followed, but it was +indistinct; and it became lost amid a low peal of laughter, which was +hardly distinguishable from the gurgle of the tiny whirlpools +outside. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +FARMERS--A RULE--AN EXCEPTION + + +The first public evidence of Bathsheba's decision to be a farmer in +her own person and by proxy no more was her appearance the following +market-day in the cornmarket at Casterbridge. + +The low though extensive hall, supported by beams and pillars, +and latterly dignified by the name of Corn Exchange, was thronged +with hot men who talked among each other in twos and threes, the +speaker of the minute looking sideways into his auditor's face and +concentrating his argument by a contraction of one eyelid during +delivery. The greater number carried in their hands ground-ash +saplings, using them partly as walking-sticks and partly for poking +up pigs, sheep, neighbours with their backs turned, and restful +things in general, which seemed to require such treatment in the +course of their peregrinations. During conversations each subjected +his sapling to great varieties of usage--bending it round his back, +forming an arch of it between his two hands, overweighting it on the +ground till it reached nearly a semicircle; or perhaps it was hastily +tucked under the arm whilst the sample-bag was pulled forth and a +handful of corn poured into the palm, which, after criticism, was +flung upon the floor, an issue of events perfectly well known to +half-a-dozen acute town-bred fowls which had as usual crept into the +building unobserved, and waited the fulfilment of their anticipations +with a high-stretched neck and oblique eye. + +Among these heavy yeomen a feminine figure glided, the single one of +her sex that the room contained. She was prettily and even daintily +dressed. She moved between them as a chaise between carts, was heard +after them as a romance after sermons, was felt among them like a +breeze among furnaces. It had required a little determination--far +more than she had at first imagined--to take up a position here, for +at her first entry the lumbering dialogues had ceased, nearly every +face had been turned towards her, and those that were already turned +rigidly fixed there. + +Two or three only of the farmers were personally known to Bathsheba, +and to these she had made her way. But if she was to be the +practical woman she had intended to show herself, business must +be carried on, introductions or none, and she ultimately acquired +confidence enough to speak and reply boldly to men merely known to +her by hearsay. Bathsheba too had her sample-bags, and by degrees +adopted the professional pour into the hand--holding up the grains +in her narrow palm for inspection, in perfect Casterbridge manner. + +Something in the exact arch of her upper unbroken row of teeth, and +in the keenly pointed corners of her red mouth when, with parted +lips, she somewhat defiantly turned up her face to argue a point with +a tall man, suggested that there was potentiality enough in that +lithe slip of humanity for alarming exploits of sex, and daring +enough to carry them out. But her eyes had a softness--invariably a +softness--which, had they not been dark, would have seemed mistiness; +as they were, it lowered an expression that might have been piercing +to simple clearness. + +Strange to say of a woman in full bloom and vigor, she always allowed +her interlocutors to finish their statements before rejoining with +hers. In arguing on prices, she held to her own firmly, as was +natural in a dealer, and reduced theirs persistently, as was +inevitable in a woman. But there was an elasticity in her firmness +which removed it from obstinacy, as there was a _naïveté_ in her +cheapening which saved it from meanness. + +Those of the farmers with whom she had no dealings (by far the +greater part) were continually asking each other, "Who is she?" +The reply would be-- + +"Farmer Everdene's niece; took on Weatherbury Upper Farm; turned away +the baily, and swears she'll do everything herself." + +The other man would then shake his head. + +"Yes, 'tis a pity she's so headstrong," the first would say. "But we +ought to be proud of her here--she lightens up the old place. 'Tis +such a shapely maid, however, that she'll soon get picked up." + +It would be ungallant to suggest that the novelty of her engagement +in such an occupation had almost as much to do with the magnetism +as had the beauty of her face and movements. However, the interest +was general, and this Saturday's _début_ in the forum, whatever it +may have been to Bathsheba as the buying and selling farmer, was +unquestionably a triumph to her as the maiden. Indeed, the sensation +was so pronounced that her instinct on two or three occasions was +merely to walk as a queen among these gods of the fallow, like a +little sister of a little Jove, and to neglect closing prices +altogether. + +The numerous evidences of her power to attract were only thrown into +greater relief by a marked exception. Women seem to have eyes in +their ribbons for such matters as these. Bathsheba, without looking +within a right angle of him, was conscious of a black sheep among the +flock. + +It perplexed her first. If there had been a respectable minority on +either side, the case would have been most natural. If nobody had +regarded her, she would have taken the matter indifferently--such +cases had occurred. If everybody, this man included, she would have +taken it as a matter of course--people had done so before. But the +smallness of the exception made the mystery. + +She soon knew thus much of the recusant's appearance. He was a +gentlemanly man, with full and distinctly outlined Roman features, +the prominences of which glowed in the sun with a bronze-like +richness of tone. He was erect in attitude, and quiet in demeanour. +One characteristic pre-eminently marked him--dignity. + +Apparently he had some time ago reached that entrance to middle age +at which a man's aspect naturally ceases to alter for the term of +a dozen years or so; and, artificially, a woman's does likewise. +Thirty-five and fifty were his limits of variation--he might have +been either, or anywhere between the two. + +It may be said that married men of forty are usually ready and +generous enough to fling passing glances at any specimen of moderate +beauty they may discern by the way. Probably, as with persons +playing whist for love, the consciousness of a certain immunity under +any circumstances from that worst possible ultimate, the having to +pay, makes them unduly speculative. Bathsheba was convinced that +this unmoved person was not a married man. + +When marketing was over, she rushed off to Liddy, who was waiting +for her beside the yellow gig in which they had driven to town. +The horse was put in, and on they trotted--Bathsheba's sugar, tea, +and drapery parcels being packed behind, and expressing in some +indescribable manner, by their colour, shape, and general lineaments, +that they were that young lady-farmer's property, and the grocer's +and draper's no more. + +"I've been through it, Liddy, and it is over. I shan't mind it +again, for they will all have grown accustomed to seeing me there; +but this morning it was as bad as being married--eyes everywhere!" + +"I knowed it would be," Liddy said. "Men be such a terrible class of +society to look at a body." + +"But there was one man who had more sense than to waste his time upon +me." The information was put in this form that Liddy might not for a +moment suppose her mistress was at all piqued. "A very good-looking +man," she continued, "upright; about forty, I should think. Do you +know at all who he could be?" + +Liddy couldn't think. + +"Can't you guess at all?" said Bathsheba with some disappointment. + +"I haven't a notion; besides, 'tis no difference, since he took less +notice of you than any of the rest. Now, if he'd taken more, it +would have mattered a great deal." + +Bathsheba was suffering from the reverse feeling just then, and they +bowled along in silence. A low carriage, bowling along still more +rapidly behind a horse of unimpeachable breed, overtook and passed +them. + +"Why, there he is!" she said. + +Liddy looked. "That! That's Farmer Boldwood--of course 'tis--the +man you couldn't see the other day when he called." + +"Oh, Farmer Boldwood," murmured Bathsheba, and looked at him as he +outstripped them. The farmer had never turned his head once, but +with eyes fixed on the most advanced point along the road, passed as +unconsciously and abstractedly as if Bathsheba and her charms were +thin air. + +"He's an interesting man--don't you think so?" she remarked. + +"O yes, very. Everybody owns it," replied Liddy. + +"I wonder why he is so wrapt up and indifferent, and seemingly so far +away from all he sees around him." + +"It is said--but not known for certain--that he met with some bitter +disappointment when he was a young man and merry. A woman jilted +him, they say." + +"People always say that--and we know very well women scarcely ever +jilt men; 'tis the men who jilt us. I expect it is simply his nature +to be so reserved." + +"Simply his nature--I expect so, miss--nothing else in the world." + +"Still, 'tis more romantic to think he has been served cruelly, poor +thing'! Perhaps, after all, he has!" + +"Depend upon it he has. Oh yes, miss, he has! I feel he must have." + +"However, we are very apt to think extremes of people. I shouldn't +wonder after all if it wasn't a little of both--just between the +two--rather cruelly used and rather reserved." + +"Oh dear no, miss--I can't think it between the two!" + +"That's most likely." + +"Well, yes, so it is. I am convinced it is most likely. You may take +my word, miss, that that's what's the matter with him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +SORTES SANCTORUM--THE VALENTINE + + +It was Sunday afternoon in the farmhouse, on the thirteenth of +February. Dinner being over, Bathsheba, for want of a better +companion, had asked Liddy to come and sit with her. The mouldy pile +was dreary in winter-time before the candles were lighted and the +shutters closed; the atmosphere of the place seemed as old as the +walls; every nook behind the furniture had a temperature of its own, +for the fire was not kindled in this part of the house early in the +day; and Bathsheba's new piano, which was an old one in other annals, +looked particularly sloping and out of level on the warped floor +before night threw a shade over its less prominent angles and hid +the unpleasantness. Liddy, like a little brook, though shallow, was +always rippling; her presence had not so much weight as to task +thought, and yet enough to exercise it. + +On the table lay an old quarto Bible, bound in leather. Liddy +looking at it said,-- + +"Did you ever find out, miss, who you are going to marry by means of +the Bible and key?" + +"Don't be so foolish, Liddy. As if such things could be." + +"Well, there's a good deal in it, all the same." + +"Nonsense, child." + +"And it makes your heart beat fearful. Some believe in it; some +don't; I do." + +"Very well, let's try it," said Bathsheba, bounding from her seat +with that total disregard of consistency which can be indulged in +towards a dependent, and entering into the spirit of divination at +once. "Go and get the front door key." + +Liddy fetched it. "I wish it wasn't Sunday," she said, on returning. +"Perhaps 'tis wrong." + +"What's right week days is right Sundays," replied her mistress in a +tone which was a proof in itself. + +The book was opened--the leaves, drab with age, being quite worn away +at much-read verses by the forefingers of unpractised readers in +former days, where they were moved along under the line as an aid to +the vision. The special verse in the Book of Ruth was sought out by +Bathsheba, and the sublime words met her eye. They slightly thrilled +and abashed her. It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in the +concrete. Folly in the concrete blushed, persisted in her intention, +and placed the key on the book. A rusty patch immediately upon the +verse, caused by previous pressure of an iron substance thereon, told +that this was not the first time the old volume had been used for the +purpose. + +"Now keep steady, and be silent," said Bathsheba. + +The verse was repeated; the book turned round; Bathsheba blushed +guiltily. + +"Who did you try?" said Liddy curiously. + +"I shall not tell you." + +"Did you notice Mr. Boldwood's doings in church this morning, miss?" +Liddy continued, adumbrating by the remark the track her thoughts had +taken. + +"No, indeed," said Bathsheba, with serene indifference. + +"His pew is exactly opposite yours, miss." + +"I know it." + +"And you did not see his goings on!" + +"Certainly I did not, I tell you." + +Liddy assumed a smaller physiognomy, and shut her lips decisively. + +This move was unexpected, and proportionately disconcerting. "What +did he do?" Bathsheba said perforce. + +"Didn't turn his head to look at you once all the service." + +"Why should he?" again demanded her mistress, wearing a nettled look. +"I didn't ask him to." + +"Oh no. But everybody else was noticing you; and it was odd he +didn't. There, 'tis like him. Rich and gentlemanly, what does he +care?" + +Bathsheba dropped into a silence intended to express that she had +opinions on the matter too abstruse for Liddy's comprehension, rather +than that she had nothing to say. + +"Dear me--I had nearly forgotten the valentine I bought yesterday," +she exclaimed at length. + +"Valentine! who for, miss?" said Liddy. "Farmer Boldwood?" + +It was the single name among all possible wrong ones that just at +this moment seemed to Bathsheba more pertinent than the right. + +"Well, no. It is only for little Teddy Coggan. I have promised him +something, and this will be a pretty surprise for him. Liddy, you +may as well bring me my desk and I'll direct it at once." + +Bathsheba took from her desk a gorgeously illuminated and embossed +design in post-octavo, which had been bought on the previous +market-day at the chief stationer's in Casterbridge. In the centre +was a small oval enclosure; this was left blank, that the sender +might insert tender words more appropriate to the special occasion +than any generalities by a printer could possibly be. + +"Here's a place for writing," said Bathsheba. "What shall I put?" + +"Something of this sort, I should think," returned Liddy promptly:-- + + + "The rose is red, + The violet blue, + Carnation's sweet, + And so are you." + + +"Yes, that shall be it. It just suits itself to a chubby-faced child +like him," said Bathsheba. She inserted the words in a small though +legible handwriting; enclosed the sheet in an envelope, and dipped +her pen for the direction. + +"What fun it would be to send it to the stupid old Boldwood, and how +he would wonder!" said the irrepressible Liddy, lifting her eyebrows, +and indulging in an awful mirth on the verge of fear as she thought +of the moral and social magnitude of the man contemplated. + +Bathsheba paused to regard the idea at full length. Boldwood's had +begun to be a troublesome image--a species of Daniel in her kingdom +who persisted in kneeling eastward when reason and common sense said +that he might just as well follow suit with the rest, and afford her +the official glance of admiration which cost nothing at all. She was +far from being seriously concerned about his nonconformity. Still, +it was faintly depressing that the most dignified and valuable man +in the parish should withhold his eyes, and that a girl like Liddy +should talk about it. So Liddy's idea was at first rather harassing +than piquant. + +"No, I won't do that. He wouldn't see any humour in it." + +"He'd worry to death," said the persistent Liddy. + +"Really, I don't care particularly to send it to Teddy," remarked her +mistress. "He's rather a naughty child sometimes." + +"Yes--that he is." + +"Let's toss as men do," said Bathsheba, idly. "Now then, head, +Boldwood; tail, Teddy. No, we won't toss money on a Sunday, that +would be tempting the devil indeed." + +"Toss this hymn-book; there can't be no sinfulness in that, miss." + +"Very well. Open, Boldwood--shut, Teddy. No; it's more likely to +fall open. Open, Teddy--shut, Boldwood." + +The book went fluttering in the air and came down shut. + +Bathsheba, a small yawn upon her mouth, took the pen, and with +off-hand serenity directed the missive to Boldwood. + +"Now light a candle, Liddy. Which seal shall we use? Here's a +unicorn's head--there's nothing in that. What's this?--two +doves--no. It ought to be something extraordinary, ought it not, +Liddy? Here's one with a motto--I remember it is some funny one, but +I can't read it. We'll try this, and if it doesn't do we'll have +another." + +A large red seal was duly affixed. Bathsheba looked closely at the +hot wax to discover the words. + +"Capital!" she exclaimed, throwing down the letter frolicsomely. +"'Twould upset the solemnity of a parson and clerke too." + +Liddy looked at the words of the seal, and read-- + + + "MARRY ME." + + +The same evening the letter was sent, and was duly sorted in +Casterbridge post-office that night, to be returned to Weatherbury +again in the morning. + +So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done. Of love as a +spectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectively +she knew nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +EFFECT OF THE LETTER--SUNRISE + + +At dusk, on the evening of St. Valentine's Day, Boldwood sat down +to supper as usual, by a beaming fire of aged logs. Upon the +mantel-shelf before him was a time-piece, surmounted by a spread +eagle, and upon the eagle's wings was the letter Bathsheba had sent. +Here the bachelor's gaze was continually fastening itself, till the +large red seal became as a blot of blood on the retina of his eye; +and as he ate and drank he still read in fancy the words thereon, +although they were too remote for his sight-- + + + "MARRY ME." + + +The pert injunction was like those crystal substances which, +colourless themselves, assume the tone of objects about them. Here, +in the quiet of Boldwood's parlour, where everything that was not +grave was extraneous, and where the atmosphere was that of a Puritan +Sunday lasting all the week, the letter and its dictum changed their +tenor from the thoughtlessness of their origin to a deep solemnity, +imbibed from their accessories now. + +Since the receipt of the missive in the morning, Boldwood had felt +the symmetry of his existence to be slowly getting distorted in the +direction of an ideal passion. The disturbance was as the first +floating weed to Columbus--the contemptibly little suggesting +possibilities of the infinitely great. + +The letter must have had an origin and a motive. That the latter +was of the smallest magnitude compatible with its existence at all, +Boldwood, of course, did not know. And such an explanation did not +strike him as a possibility even. It is foreign to a mystified +condition of mind to realize of the mystifier that the processes of +approving a course suggested by circumstance, and of striking out a +course from inner impulse, would look the same in the result. The +vast difference between starting a train of events, and directing +into a particular groove a series already started, is rarely apparent +to the person confounded by the issue. + +When Boldwood went to bed he placed the valentine in the corner of +the looking-glass. He was conscious of its presence, even when his +back was turned upon it. It was the first time in Boldwood's life +that such an event had occurred. The same fascination that caused +him to think it an act which had a deliberate motive prevented +him from regarding it as an impertinence. He looked again at +the direction. The mysterious influences of night invested the +writing with the presence of the unknown writer. Somebody's--some +WOMAN'S--hand had travelled softly over the paper bearing his name; +her unrevealed eyes had watched every curve as she formed it; her +brain had seen him in imagination the while. Why should she have +imagined him? Her mouth--were the lips red or pale, plump or +creased?--had curved itself to a certain expression as the pen went +on--the corners had moved with all their natural tremulousness: what +had been the expression? + +The vision of the woman writing, as a supplement to the words +written, had no individuality. She was a misty shape, and well she +might be, considering that her original was at that moment sound +asleep and oblivious of all love and letter-writing under the sky. +Whenever Boldwood dozed she took a form, and comparatively ceased to +be a vision: when he awoke there was the letter justifying the dream. + +The moon shone to-night, and its light was not of a customary kind. +His window admitted only a reflection of its rays, and the pale sheen +had that reversed direction which snow gives, coming upward and +lighting up his ceiling in an unnatural way, casting shadows in +strange places, and putting lights where shadows had used to be. + +The substance of the epistle had occupied him but little in +comparison with the fact of its arrival. He suddenly wondered +if anything more might be found in the envelope than what he had +withdrawn. He jumped out of bed in the weird light, took the +letter, pulled out the flimsy sheet, shook the envelope--searched it. +Nothing more was there. Boldwood looked, as he had a hundred times +the preceding day, at the insistent red seal: "Marry me," he said +aloud. + +The solemn and reserved yeoman again closed the letter, and stuck +it in the frame of the glass. In doing so he caught sight of his +reflected features, wan in expression, and insubstantial in form. +He saw how closely compressed was his mouth, and that his eyes were +wide-spread and vacant. Feeling uneasy and dissatisfied with himself +for this nervous excitability, he returned to bed. + +Then the dawn drew on. The full power of the clear heaven was not +equal to that of a cloudy sky at noon, when Boldwood arose and +dressed himself. He descended the stairs and went out towards the +gate of a field to the east, leaning over which he paused and looked +around. + +It was one of the usual slow sunrises of this time of the year, and +the sky, pure violet in the zenith, was leaden to the northward, +and murky to the east, where, over the snowy down or ewe-lease on +Weatherbury Upper Farm, and apparently resting upon the ridge, the +only half of the sun yet visible burnt rayless, like a red and +flameless fire shining over a white hearthstone. The whole effect +resembled a sunset as childhood resembles age. + +In other directions, the fields and sky were so much of one colour by +the snow, that it was difficult in a hasty glance to tell whereabouts +the horizon occurred; and in general there was here, too, that +before-mentioned preternatural inversion of light and shade which +attends the prospect when the garish brightness commonly in the sky +is found on the earth, and the shades of earth are in the sky. Over +the west hung the wasting moon, now dull and greenish-yellow, like +tarnished brass. + +Boldwood was listlessly noting how the frost had hardened and glazed +the surface of the snow, till it shone in the red eastern light with +the polish of marble; how, in some portions of the slope, withered +grass-bents, encased in icicles, bristled through the smooth wan +coverlet in the twisted and curved shapes of old Venetian glass; and +how the footprints of a few birds, which had hopped over the snow +whilst it lay in the state of a soft fleece, were now frozen to a +short permanency. A half-muffled noise of light wheels interrupted +him. Boldwood turned back into the road. It was the mail-cart--a +crazy, two-wheeled vehicle, hardly heavy enough to resist a puff of +wind. The driver held out a letter. Boldwood seized it and opened +it, expecting another anonymous one--so greatly are people's ideas of +probability a mere sense that precedent will repeat itself. + +"I don't think it is for you, sir," said the man, when he saw +Boldwood's action. "Though there is no name, I think it is for your +shepherd." + +Boldwood looked then at the address-- + + + To the New Shepherd, + Weatherbury Farm, + Near Casterbridge + + +"Oh--what a mistake!--it is not mine. Nor is it for my shepherd. It +is for Miss Everdene's. You had better take it on to him--Gabriel +Oak--and say I opened it in mistake." + +At this moment, on the ridge, up against the blazing sky, a figure +was visible, like the black snuff in the midst of a candle-flame. +Then it moved and began to bustle about vigorously from place to +place, carrying square skeleton masses, which were riddled by the +same rays. A small figure on all fours followed behind. The tall +form was that of Gabriel Oak; the small one that of George; the +articles in course of transit were hurdles. + +"Wait," said Boldwood. "That's the man on the hill. I'll take the +letter to him myself." + +To Boldwood it was now no longer merely a letter to another man. It +was an opportunity. Exhibiting a face pregnant with intention, he +entered the snowy field. + +Gabriel, at that minute, descended the hill towards the right. The +glow stretched down in this direction now, and touched the distant +roof of Warren's Malthouse--whither the shepherd was apparently bent: +Boldwood followed at a distance. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +A MORNING MEETING--THE LETTER AGAIN + + +The scarlet and orange light outside the malthouse did not penetrate +to its interior, which was, as usual, lighted by a rival glow of +similar hue, radiating from the hearth. + +The maltster, after having lain down in his clothes for a few +hours, was now sitting beside a three-legged table, breakfasting of +bread and bacon. This was eaten on the plateless system, which is +performed by placing a slice of bread upon the table, the meat flat +upon the bread, a mustard plaster upon the meat, and a pinch of salt +upon the whole, then cutting them vertically downwards with a large +pocket-knife till wood is reached, when the severed lump is impaled +on the knife, elevated, and sent the proper way of food. + +The maltster's lack of teeth appeared not to sensibly diminish +his powers as a mill. He had been without them for so many years +that toothlessness was felt less to be a defect than hard gums an +acquisition. Indeed, he seemed to approach the grave as a hyperbolic +curve approaches a straight line--less directly as he got nearer, +till it was doubtful if he would ever reach it at all. + +In the ashpit was a heap of potatoes roasting, and a boiling pipkin +of charred bread, called "coffee", for the benefit of whomsoever +should call, for Warren's was a sort of clubhouse, used as an +alternative to the inn. + +"I say, says I, we get a fine day, and then down comes a snapper at +night," was a remark now suddenly heard spreading into the malthouse +from the door, which had been opened the previous moment. The form +of Henery Fray advanced to the fire, stamping the snow from his boots +when about half-way there. The speech and entry had not seemed to be +at all an abrupt beginning to the maltster, introductory matter being +often omitted in this neighbourhood, both from word and deed, and +the maltster having the same latitude allowed him, did not hurry to +reply. He picked up a fragment of cheese, by pecking upon it with +his knife, as a butcher picks up skewers. + +Henery appeared in a drab kerseymere great-coat, buttoned over his +smock-frock, the white skirts of the latter being visible to the +distance of about a foot below the coat-tails, which, when you +got used to the style of dress, looked natural enough, and even +ornamental--it certainly was comfortable. + +Matthew Moon, Joseph Poorgrass, and other carters and waggoners +followed at his heels, with great lanterns dangling from their hands, +which showed that they had just come from the cart-horse stables, +where they had been busily engaged since four o'clock that morning. + +"And how is she getting on without a baily?" the maltster inquired. +Henery shook his head, and smiled one of the bitter smiles, dragging +all the flesh of his forehead into a corrugated heap in the centre. + +"She'll rue it--surely, surely!" he said. "Benjy Pennyways were not +a true man or an honest baily--as big a betrayer as Judas Iscariot +himself. But to think she can carr' on alone!" He allowed his head +to swing laterally three or four times in silence. "Never in all my +creeping up--never!" + +This was recognized by all as the conclusion of some gloomy speech +which had been expressed in thought alone during the shake of the +head; Henery meanwhile retained several marks of despair upon his +face, to imply that they would be required for use again directly +he should go on speaking. + +"All will be ruined, and ourselves too, or there's no meat in +gentlemen's houses!" said Mark Clark. + +"A headstrong maid, that's what she is--and won't listen to no advice +at all. Pride and vanity have ruined many a cobbler's dog. Dear, +dear, when I think o' it, I sorrows like a man in travel!" + +"True, Henery, you do, I've heard ye," said Joseph Poorgrass in a +voice of thorough attestation, and with a wire-drawn smile of misery. + +"'Twould do a martel man no harm to have what's under her bonnet," +said Billy Smallbury, who had just entered, bearing his one tooth +before him. "She can spaik real language, and must have some sense +somewhere. Do ye foller me?" + +"I do, I do; but no baily--I deserved that place," wailed Henery, +signifying wasted genius by gazing blankly at visions of a high +destiny apparently visible to him on Billy Smallbury's smock-frock. +"There, 'twas to be, I suppose. Your lot is your lot, and Scripture +is nothing; for if you do good you don't get rewarded according to +your works, but be cheated in some mean way out of your recompense." + +"No, no; I don't agree with'ee there," said Mark Clark. "God's a +perfect gentleman in that respect." + +"Good works good pay, so to speak it," attested Joseph Poorgrass. + +A short pause ensued, and as a sort of _entr'acte_ Henery turned and +blew out the lanterns, which the increase of daylight rendered no +longer necessary even in the malthouse, with its one pane of glass. + +"I wonder what a farmer-woman can want with a harpsichord, dulcimer, +pianner, or whatever 'tis they d'call it?" said the maltster. "Liddy +saith she've a new one." + +"Got a pianner?" + +"Ay. Seems her old uncle's things were not good enough for her. +She've bought all but everything new. There's heavy chairs for the +stout, weak and wiry ones for the slender; great watches, getting on +to the size of clocks, to stand upon the chimbley-piece." + +"Pictures, for the most part wonderful frames." + +"And long horse-hair settles for the drunk, with horse-hair pillows +at each end," said Mr. Clark. "Likewise looking-glasses for the +pretty, and lying books for the wicked." + +A firm loud tread was now heard stamping outside; the door was opened +about six inches, and somebody on the other side exclaimed-- + +"Neighbours, have ye got room for a few new-born lambs?" + +"Ay, sure, shepherd," said the conclave. + +The door was flung back till it kicked the wall and trembled from +top to bottom with the blow. Mr. Oak appeared in the entry with a +steaming face, hay-bands wound about his ankles to keep out the snow, +a leather strap round his waist outside the smock-frock, and looking +altogether an epitome of the world's health and vigour. Four lambs +hung in various embarrassing attitudes over his shoulders, and the +dog George, whom Gabriel had contrived to fetch from Norcombe, +stalked solemnly behind. + +"Well, Shepherd Oak, and how's lambing this year, if I mid say it?" +inquired Joseph Poorgrass. + +"Terrible trying," said Oak. "I've been wet through twice a-day, +either in snow or rain, this last fortnight. Cainy and I haven't +tined our eyes to-night." + +"A good few twins, too, I hear?" + +"Too many by half. Yes; 'tis a very queer lambing this year. We +shan't have done by Lady Day." + +"And last year 'twer all over by Sexajessamine Sunday," Joseph +remarked. + +"Bring on the rest Cain," said Gabriel, "and then run back to the +ewes. I'll follow you soon." + +Cainy Ball--a cheery-faced young lad, with a small circular orifice +by way of mouth, advanced and deposited two others, and retired as he +was bidden. Oak lowered the lambs from their unnatural elevation, +wrapped them in hay, and placed them round the fire. + +"We've no lambing-hut here, as I used to have at Norcombe," said +Gabriel, "and 'tis such a plague to bring the weakly ones to a house. +If 'twasn't for your place here, malter, I don't know what I should +do i' this keen weather. And how is it with you to-day, malter?" + +"Oh, neither sick nor sorry, shepherd; but no younger." + +"Ay--I understand." + +"Sit down, Shepherd Oak," continued the ancient man of malt. "And +how was the old place at Norcombe, when ye went for your dog? I +should like to see the old familiar spot; but faith, I shouldn't know +a soul there now." + +"I suppose you wouldn't. 'Tis altered very much." + +"Is it true that Dicky Hill's wooden cider-house is pulled down?" + +"Oh yes--years ago, and Dicky's cottage just above it." + +"Well, to be sure!" + +"Yes; and Tompkins's old apple-tree is rooted that used to bear two +hogsheads of cider; and no help from other trees." + +"Rooted?--you don't say it! Ah! stirring times we live in--stirring +times." + +"And you can mind the old well that used to be in the middle of the +place? That's turned into a solid iron pump with a large stone +trough, and all complete." + +"Dear, dear--how the face of nations alter, and what we live to see +nowadays! Yes--and 'tis the same here. They've been talking but now +of the mis'ess's strange doings." + +"What have you been saying about her?" inquired Oak, sharply turning +to the rest, and getting very warm. + +"These middle-aged men have been pulling her over the coals for pride +and vanity," said Mark Clark; "but I say, let her have rope enough. +Bless her pretty face--shouldn't I like to do so--upon her cherry +lips!" The gallant Mark Clark here made a peculiar and well known +sound with his own. + +"Mark," said Gabriel, sternly, "now you mind this! none of that +dalliance-talk--that smack-and-coddle style of yours--about Miss +Everdene. I don't allow it. Do you hear?" + +"With all my heart, as I've got no chance," replied Mr. Clark, +cordially. + +"I suppose you've been speaking against her?" said Oak, turning to +Joseph Poorgrass with a very grim look. + +"No, no--not a word I--'tis a real joyful thing that she's no worse, +that's what I say," said Joseph, trembling and blushing with terror. +"Matthew just said--" + +"Matthew Moon, what have you been saying?" asked Oak. + +"I? Why ye know I wouldn't harm a worm--no, not one underground +worm?" said Matthew Moon, looking very uneasy. + +"Well, somebody has--and look here, neighbours," Gabriel, though one +of the quietest and most gentle men on earth, rose to the occasion, +with martial promptness and vigour. "That's my fist." Here he +placed his fist, rather smaller in size than a common loaf, in the +mathematical centre of the maltster's little table, and with it gave +a bump or two thereon, as if to ensure that their eyes all thoroughly +took in the idea of fistiness before he went further. "Now--the +first man in the parish that I hear prophesying bad of our mistress, +why" (here the fist was raised and let fall as Thor might have done +with his hammer in assaying it)--"he'll smell and taste that--or I'm +a Dutchman." + +All earnestly expressed by their features that their minds did not +wander to Holland for a moment on account of this statement, but were +deploring the difference which gave rise to the figure; and Mark +Clark cried "Hear, hear; just what I should ha' said." The dog George +looked up at the same time after the shepherd's menace, and though he +understood English but imperfectly, began to growl. + +"Now, don't ye take on so, shepherd, and sit down!" said Henery, +with a deprecating peacefulness equal to anything of the kind in +Christianity. + +"We hear that ye be a extraordinary good and clever man, shepherd," +said Joseph Poorgrass with considerable anxiety from behind the +maltster's bedstead, whither he had retired for safety. "'Tis a +great thing to be clever, I'm sure," he added, making movements +associated with states of mind rather than body; "we wish we were, +don't we, neighbours?" + +"Ay, that we do, sure," said Matthew Moon, with a small anxious laugh +towards Oak, to show how very friendly disposed he was likewise. + +"Who's been telling you I'm clever?" said Oak. + +"'Tis blowed about from pillar to post quite common," said Matthew. +"We hear that ye can tell the time as well by the stars as we can by +the sun and moon, shepherd." + +"Yes, I can do a little that way," said Gabriel, as a man of medium +sentiments on the subject. + +"And that ye can make sun-dials, and prent folks' names upon their +waggons almost like copper-plate, with beautiful flourishes, and +great long tails. A excellent fine thing for ye to be such a clever +man, shepherd. Joseph Poorgrass used to prent to Farmer James +Everdene's waggons before you came, and 'a could never mind which way +to turn the J's and E's--could ye, Joseph?" Joseph shook his head +to express how absolute was the fact that he couldn't. "And so you +used to do 'em the wrong way, like this, didn't ye, Joseph?" Matthew +marked on the dusty floor with his whip-handle + + + [the word J A M E S appears here with the "J" and the "E" + printed backwards] + + +"And how Farmer James would cuss, and call thee a fool, wouldn't he, +Joseph, when 'a seed his name looking so inside-out-like?" continued +Matthew Moon with feeling. + +"Ay--'a would," said Joseph, meekly. "But, you see, I wasn't so much +to blame, for them J's and E's be such trying sons o' witches for the +memory to mind whether they face backward or forward; and I always +had such a forgetful memory, too." + +"'Tis a very bad affliction for ye, being such a man of calamities in +other ways." + +"Well, 'tis; but a happy Providence ordered that it should be no +worse, and I feel my thanks. As to shepherd, there, I'm sure mis'ess +ought to have made ye her baily--such a fitting man for't as you be." + +"I don't mind owning that I expected it," said Oak, frankly. +"Indeed, I hoped for the place. At the same time, Miss Everdene has +a right to be her own baily if she choose--and to keep me down to be +a common shepherd only." Oak drew a slow breath, looked sadly into +the bright ashpit, and seemed lost in thoughts not of the most +hopeful hue. + +The genial warmth of the fire now began to stimulate the nearly +lifeless lambs to bleat and move their limbs briskly upon the hay, +and to recognize for the first time the fact that they were born. +Their noise increased to a chorus of baas, upon which Oak pulled the +milk-can from before the fire, and taking a small tea-pot from the +pocket of his smock-frock, filled it with milk, and taught those of +the helpless creatures which were not to be restored to their dams +how to drink from the spout--a trick they acquired with astonishing +aptitude. + +"And she don't even let ye have the skins of the dead lambs, I hear?" +resumed Joseph Poorgrass, his eyes lingering on the operations of Oak +with the necessary melancholy. + +"I don't have them," said Gabriel. + +"Ye be very badly used, shepherd," hazarded Joseph again, in the hope +of getting Oak as an ally in lamentation after all. "I think she's +took against ye--that I do." + +"Oh no--not at all," replied Gabriel, hastily, and a sigh escaped +him, which the deprivation of lamb skins could hardly have caused. + +Before any further remark had been added a shade darkened the door, +and Boldwood entered the malthouse, bestowing upon each a nod of a +quality between friendliness and condescension. + +"Ah! Oak, I thought you were here," he said. "I met the mail-cart +ten minutes ago, and a letter was put into my hand, which I opened +without reading the address. I believe it is yours. You must excuse +the accident please." + +"Oh yes--not a bit of difference, Mr. Boldwood--not a bit," said +Gabriel, readily. He had not a correspondent on earth, nor was there +a possible letter coming to him whose contents the whole parish would +not have been welcome to peruse. + +Oak stepped aside, and read the following in an unknown hand:-- + + + DEAR FRIEND,--I do not know your name, but I think these + few lines will reach you, which I wrote to thank you for + your kindness to me the night I left Weatherbury in a + reckless way. I also return the money I owe you, which you + will excuse my not keeping as a gift. All has ended well, + and I am happy to say I am going to be married to the young + man who has courted me for some time--Sergeant Troy, of + the 11th Dragoon Guards, now quartered in this town. He + would, I know, object to my having received anything except + as a loan, being a man of great respectability and high + honour--indeed, a nobleman by blood. + + I should be much obliged to you if you would keep the + contents of this letter a secret for the present, dear + friend. We mean to surprise Weatherbury by coming there + soon as husband and wife, though I blush to state it to one + nearly a stranger. The sergeant grew up in Weatherbury. + Thanking you again for your kindness, + + I am, your sincere well-wisher, + FANNY ROBIN. + + +"Have you read it, Mr. Boldwood?" said Gabriel; "if not, you had +better do so. I know you are interested in Fanny Robin." + +Boldwood read the letter and looked grieved. + +"Fanny--poor Fanny! the end she is so confident of has not yet +come, she should remember--and may never come. I see she gives no +address." + +"What sort of a man is this Sergeant Troy?" said Gabriel. + +"H'm--I'm afraid not one to build much hope upon in such a case as +this," the farmer murmured, "though he's a clever fellow, and up to +everything. A slight romance attaches to him, too. His mother was +a French governess, and it seems that a secret attachment existed +between her and the late Lord Severn. She was married to a poor +medical man, and soon after an infant was born; and while money was +forthcoming all went on well. Unfortunately for her boy, his best +friends died; and he got then a situation as second clerk at a +lawyer's in Casterbridge. He stayed there for some time, and might +have worked himself into a dignified position of some sort had he not +indulged in the wild freak of enlisting. I have much doubt if ever +little Fanny will surprise us in the way she mentions--very much +doubt. A silly girl!--silly girl!" + +The door was hurriedly burst open again, and in came running Cainy +Ball out of breath, his mouth red and open, like the bell of a penny +trumpet, from which he coughed with noisy vigour and great distension +of face. + +"Now, Cain Ball," said Oak, sternly, "why will you run so fast and +lose your breath so? I'm always telling you of it." + +"Oh--I--a puff of mee breath--went--the--wrong way, please, Mister +Oak, and made me cough--hok--hok!" + +"Well--what have you come for?" + +"I've run to tell ye," said the junior shepherd, supporting his +exhausted youthful frame against the doorpost, "that you must come +directly. Two more ewes have twinned--that's what's the matter, +Shepherd Oak." + +"Oh, that's it," said Oak, jumping up, and dimissing for the present +his thoughts on poor Fanny. "You are a good boy to run and tell me, +Cain, and you shall smell a large plum pudding some day as a treat. +But, before we go, Cainy, bring the tarpot, and we'll mark this lot +and have done with 'em." + +Oak took from his illimitable pockets a marking iron, dipped it +into the pot, and imprinted on the buttocks of the infant sheep the +initials of her he delighted to muse on--"B. E.," which signified to +all the region round that henceforth the lambs belonged to Farmer +Bathsheba Everdene, and to no one else. + +"Now, Cainy, shoulder your two, and off. Good morning, Mr. Boldwood." +The shepherd lifted the sixteen large legs and four small bodies he +had himself brought, and vanished with them in the direction of the +lambing field hard by--their frames being now in a sleek and hopeful +state, pleasantly contrasting with their death's-door plight of half +an hour before. + +Boldwood followed him a little way up the field, hesitated, and +turned back. He followed him again with a last resolve, annihilating +return. On approaching the nook in which the fold was constructed, +the farmer drew out his pocket-book, unfastened it, and allowed it to +lie open on his hand. A letter was revealed--Bathsheba's. + +"I was going to ask you, Oak," he said, with unreal carelessness, "if +you know whose writing this is?" + +Oak glanced into the book, and replied instantly, with a flushed +face, "Miss Everdene's." + +Oak had coloured simply at the consciousness of sounding her name. +He now felt a strangely distressing qualm from a new thought. The +letter could of course be no other than anonymous, or the inquiry +would not have been necessary. + +Boldwood mistook his confusion: sensitive persons are always ready +with their "Is it I?" in preference to objective reasoning. + +"The question was perfectly fair," he returned--and there was +something incongruous in the serious earnestness with which he +applied himself to an argument on a valentine. "You know it is +always expected that privy inquiries will be made: that's where +the--fun lies." If the word "fun" had been "torture," it could not +have been uttered with a more constrained and restless countenance +than was Boldwood's then. + +Soon parting from Gabriel, the lonely and reserved man returned to +his house to breakfast--feeling twinges of shame and regret at having +so far exposed his mood by those fevered questions to a stranger. He +again placed the letter on the mantelpiece, and sat down to think of +the circumstances attending it by the light of Gabriel's information. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +ALL SAINTS' AND ALL SOULS' + + +On a week-day morning a small congregation, consisting mainly of +women and girls, rose from its knees in the mouldy nave of a church +called All Saints', in the distant barrack-town before-mentioned, at +the end of a service without a sermon. They were about to disperse, +when a smart footstep, entering the porch and coming up the central +passage, arrested their attention. The step echoed with a ring +unusual in a church; it was the clink of spurs. Everybody looked. A +young cavalry soldier in a red uniform, with the three chevrons of a +sergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle, with an embarrassment +which was only the more marked by the intense vigour of his step, and +by the determination upon his face to show none. A slight flush had +mounted his cheek by the time he had run the gauntlet between these +women; but, passing on through the chancel arch, he never paused till +he came close to the altar railing. Here for a moment he stood +alone. + +The officiating curate, who had not yet doffed his surplice, +perceived the new-comer, and followed him to the communion-space. He +whispered to the soldier, and then beckoned to the clerk, who in his +turn whispered to an elderly woman, apparently his wife, and they +also went up the chancel steps. + +"'Tis a wedding!" murmured some of the women, brightening. "Let's +wait!" + +The majority again sat down. + +There was a creaking of machinery behind, and some of the young ones +turned their heads. From the interior face of the west wall of the +tower projected a little canopy with a quarter-jack and small bell +beneath it, the automaton being driven by the same clock machinery +that struck the large bell in the tower. Between the tower and the +church was a close screen, the door of which was kept shut during +services, hiding this grotesque clockwork from sight. At present, +however, the door was open, and the egress of the jack, the blows on +the bell, and the mannikin's retreat into the nook again, were +visible to many, and audible throughout the church. + +The jack had struck half-past eleven. + +"Where's the woman?" whispered some of the spectators. + +The young sergeant stood still with the abnormal rigidity of the old +pillars around. He faced the south-east, and was as silent as he was +still. + +The silence grew to be a noticeable thing as the minutes went on, +and nobody else appeared, and not a soul moved. The rattle of the +quarter-jack again from its niche, its blows for three-quarters, its +fussy retreat, were almost painfully abrupt, and caused many of the +congregation to start palpably. + +"I wonder where the woman is!" a voice whispered again. + +There began now that slight shifting of feet, that artificial +coughing among several, which betrays a nervous suspense. At length +there was a titter. But the soldier never moved. There he stood, +his face to the south-east, upright as a column, his cap in his hand. + +The clock ticked on. The women threw off their nervousness, and +titters and giggling became more frequent. Then came a dead silence. +Every one was waiting for the end. Some persons may have noticed how +extraordinarily the striking of quarters seems to quicken the flight +of time. It was hardly credible that the jack had not got wrong with +the minutes when the rattle began again, the puppet emerged, and the +four quarters were struck fitfully as before. One could almost be +positive that there was a malicious leer upon the hideous creature's +face, and a mischievous delight in its twitchings. Then followed the +dull and remote resonance of the twelve heavy strokes in the tower +above. The women were impressed, and there was no giggle this time. + +The clergyman glided into the vestry, and the clerk vanished. The +sergeant had not yet turned; every woman in the church was waiting to +see his face, and he appeared to know it. At last he did turn, and +stalked resolutely down the nave, braving them all, with a compressed +lip. Two bowed and toothless old almsmen then looked at each other +and chuckled, innocently enough; but the sound had a strange weird +effect in that place. + +Opposite to the church was a paved square, around which several +overhanging wood buildings of old time cast a picturesque shade. The +young man on leaving the door went to cross the square, when, in the +middle, he met a little woman. The expression of her face, which had +been one of intense anxiety, sank at the sight of his nearly to +terror. + +"Well?" he said, in a suppressed passion, fixedly looking at her. + +"Oh, Frank--I made a mistake!--I thought that church with the spire +was All Saints', and I was at the door at half-past eleven to a +minute as you said. I waited till a quarter to twelve, and found +then that I was in All Souls'. But I wasn't much frightened, for +I thought it could be to-morrow as well." + +"You fool, for so fooling me! But say no more." + +"Shall it be to-morrow, Frank?" she asked blankly. + +"To-morrow!" and he gave vent to a hoarse laugh. "I don't go through +that experience again for some time, I warrant you!" + +"But after all," she expostulated in a trembling voice, "the mistake +was not such a terrible thing! Now, dear Frank, when shall it be?" + +"Ah, when? God knows!" he said, with a light irony, and turning from +her walked rapidly away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +IN THE MARKET-PLACE + + +On Saturday Boldwood was in Casterbridge market house as usual, when +the disturber of his dreams entered and became visible to him. Adam +had awakened from his deep sleep, and behold! there was Eve. The +farmer took courage, and for the first time really looked at her. + +Material causes and emotional effects are not to be arranged in +regular equation. The result from capital employed in the production +of any movement of a mental nature is sometimes as tremendous as the +cause itself is absurdly minute. When women are in a freakish mood, +their usual intuition, either from carelessness or inherent defect, +seemingly fails to teach them this, and hence it was that Bathsheba +was fated to be astonished to-day. + +Boldwood looked at her--not slily, critically, or understandingly, +but blankly at gaze, in the way a reaper looks up at a passing +train--as something foreign to his element, and but dimly understood. +To Boldwood women had been remote phenomena rather than necessary +complements--comets of such uncertain aspect, movement, and +permanence, that whether their orbits were as geometrical, +unchangeable, and as subject to laws as his own, or as absolutely +erratic as they superficially appeared, he had not deemed it his duty +to consider. + +He saw her black hair, her correct facial curves and profile, and +the roundness of her chin and throat. He saw then the side of her +eyelids, eyes, and lashes, and the shape of her ear. Next he noticed +her figure, her skirt, and the very soles of her shoes. + +Boldwood thought her beautiful, but wondered whether he was right in +his thought, for it seemed impossible that this romance in the flesh, +if so sweet as he imagined, could have been going on long without +creating a commotion of delight among men, and provoking more inquiry +than Bathsheba had done, even though that was not a little. To the +best of his judgement neither nature nor art could improve this +perfect one of an imperfect many. His heart began to move within +him. Boldwood, it must be remembered, though forty years of age, had +never before inspected a woman with the very centre and force of his +glance; they had struck upon all his senses at wide angles. + +Was she really beautiful? He could not assure himself that his +opinion was true even now. He furtively said to a neighbour, "Is +Miss Everdene considered handsome?" + +"Oh yes; she was a good deal noticed the first time she came, if you +remember. A very handsome girl indeed." + +A man is never more credulous than in receiving favourable opinions +on the beauty of a woman he is half, or quite, in love with; a mere +child's word on the point has the weight of an R.A.'s. Boldwood was +satisfied now. + +And this charming woman had in effect said to him, "Marry me." Why +should she have done that strange thing? Boldwood's blindness to +the difference between approving of what circumstances suggest, and +originating what they do not suggest, was well matched by Bathsheba's +insensibility to the possibly great issues of little beginnings. + +She was at this moment coolly dealing with a dashing young farmer, +adding up accounts with him as indifferently as if his face had been +the pages of a ledger. It was evident that such a nature as his had +no attraction for a woman of Bathsheba's taste. But Boldwood grew +hot down to his hands with an incipient jealousy; he trod for the +first time the threshold of "the injured lover's hell." His first +impulse was to go and thrust himself between them. This could be +done, but only in one way--by asking to see a sample of her corn. +Boldwood renounced the idea. He could not make the request; it was +debasing loveliness to ask it to buy and sell, and jarred with his +conceptions of her. + +All this time Bathsheba was conscious of having broken into that +dignified stronghold at last. His eyes, she knew, were following her +everywhere. This was a triumph; and had it come naturally, such a +triumph would have been the sweeter to her for this piquing delay. +But it had been brought about by misdirected ingenuity, and she +valued it only as she valued an artificial flower or a wax fruit. + +Being a woman with some good sense in reasoning on subjects wherein +her heart was not involved, Bathsheba genuinely repented that a freak +which had owed its existence as much to Liddy as to herself, should +ever have been undertaken, to disturb the placidity of a man she +respected too highly to deliberately tease. + +She that day nearly formed the intention of begging his pardon on +the very next occasion of their meeting. The worst features of this +arrangement were that, if he thought she ridiculed him, an apology +would increase the offence by being disbelieved; and if he thought +she wanted him to woo her, it would read like additional evidence of +her forwardness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +BOLDWOOD IN MEDITATION--REGRET + + +Boldwood was tenant of what was called Little Weatherbury Farm, and +his person was the nearest approach to aristocracy that this remoter +quarter of the parish could boast of. Genteel strangers, whose god +was their town, who might happen to be compelled to linger about this +nook for a day, heard the sound of light wheels, and prayed to see +good society, to the degree of a solitary lord, or squire at the very +least, but it was only Mr. Boldwood going out for the day. They +heard the sound of wheels yet once more, and were re-animated to +expectancy: it was only Mr. Boldwood coming home again. + +His house stood recessed from the road, and the stables, which are +to a farm what a fireplace is to a room, were behind, their lower +portions being lost amid bushes of laurel. Inside the blue door, +open half-way down, were to be seen at this time the backs and tails +of half-a-dozen warm and contented horses standing in their stalls; +and as thus viewed, they presented alternations of roan and bay, +in shapes like a Moorish arch, the tail being a streak down the +midst of each. Over these, and lost to the eye gazing in from the +outer light, the mouths of the same animals could be heard busily +sustaining the above-named warmth and plumpness by quantities of oats +and hay. The restless and shadowy figure of a colt wandered about a +loose-box at the end, whilst the steady grind of all the eaters was +occasionally diversified by the rattle of a rope or the stamp of a +foot. + +Pacing up and down at the heels of the animals was Farmer Boldwood +himself. This place was his almonry and cloister in one: here, after +looking to the feeding of his four-footed dependants, the celibate +would walk and meditate of an evening till the moon's rays streamed +in through the cobwebbed windows, or total darkness enveloped the +scene. + +His square-framed perpendicularity showed more fully now than in the +crowd and bustle of the market-house. In this meditative walk his +foot met the floor with heel and toe simultaneously, and his fine +reddish-fleshed face was bent downwards just enough to render obscure +the still mouth and the well-rounded though rather prominent and +broad chin. A few clear and thread-like horizontal lines were the +only interruption to the otherwise smooth surface of his large +forehead. + +The phases of Boldwood's life were ordinary enough, but his was not +an ordinary nature. That stillness, which struck casual observers +more than anything else in his character and habit, and seemed so +precisely like the rest of inanition, may have been the perfect +balance of enormous antagonistic forces--positives and negatives in +fine adjustment. His equilibrium disturbed, he was in extremity at +once. If an emotion possessed him at all, it ruled him; a feeling +not mastering him was entirely latent. Stagnant or rapid, it was +never slow. He was always hit mortally, or he was missed. + +He had no light and careless touches in his constitution, either +for good or for evil. Stern in the outlines of action, mild in the +details, he was serious throughout all. He saw no absurd sides to +the follies of life, and thus, though not quite companionable in the +eyes of merry men and scoffers, and those to whom all things show +life as a jest, he was not intolerable to the earnest and those +acquainted with grief. Being a man who read all the dramas of life +seriously, if he failed to please when they were comedies, there was +no frivolous treatment to reproach him for when they chanced to end +tragically. + +Bathsheba was far from dreaming that the dark and silent shape upon +which she had so carelessly thrown a seed was a hotbed of tropic +intensity. Had she known Boldwood's moods, her blame would have +been fearful, and the stain upon her heart ineradicable. Moreover, +had she known her present power for good or evil over this man, she +would have trembled at her responsibility. Luckily for her present, +unluckily for her future tranquillity, her understanding had not yet +told her what Boldwood was. Nobody knew entirely; for though it was +possible to form guesses concerning his wild capabilities from old +floodmarks faintly visible, he had never been seen at the high tides +which caused them. + +Farmer Boldwood came to the stable-door and looked forth across the +level fields. Beyond the first enclosure was a hedge, and on the +other side of this a meadow belonging to Bathsheba's farm. + +It was now early spring--the time of going to grass with the sheep, +when they have the first feed of the meadows, before these are laid +up for mowing. The wind, which had been blowing east for several +weeks, had veered to the southward, and the middle of spring had come +abruptly--almost without a beginning. It was that period in the +vernal quarter when we may suppose the Dryads to be waking for the +season. The vegetable world begins to move and swell and the saps to +rise, till in the completest silence of lone gardens and trackless +plantations, where everything seems helpless and still after the +bond and slavery of frost, there are bustlings, strainings, united +thrusts, and pulls-all-together, in comparison with which the +powerful tugs of cranes and pulleys in a noisy city are but pigmy +efforts. + +Boldwood, looking into the distant meadows, saw there three figures. +They were those of Miss Everdene, Shepherd Oak, and Cainy Ball. + +When Bathsheba's figure shone upon the farmer's eyes it lighted him +up as the moon lights up a great tower. A man's body is as the +shell, or the tablet, of his soul, as he is reserved or ingenuous, +overflowing or self-contained. There was a change in Boldwood's +exterior from its former impassibleness; and his face showed that he +was now living outside his defences for the first time, and with a +fearful sense of exposure. It is the usual experience of strong +natures when they love. + +At last he arrived at a conclusion. It was to go across and inquire +boldly of her. + +The insulation of his heart by reserve during these many years, +without a channel of any kind for disposable emotion, had worked its +effect. It has been observed more than once that the causes of love +are chiefly subjective, and Boldwood was a living testimony to the +truth of the proposition. No mother existed to absorb his devotion, +no sister for his tenderness, no idle ties for sense. He became +surcharged with the compound, which was genuine lover's love. + +He approached the gate of the meadow. Beyond it the ground was +melodious with ripples, and the sky with larks; the low bleating of +the flock mingling with both. Mistress and man were engaged in the +operation of making a lamb "take," which is performed whenever an ewe +has lost her own offspring, one of the twins of another ewe being +given her as a substitute. Gabriel had skinned the dead lamb, and +was tying the skin over the body of the live lamb, in the customary +manner, whilst Bathsheba was holding open a little pen of four +hurdles, into which the Mother and foisted lamb were driven, where +they would remain till the old sheep conceived an affection for the +young one. + +Bathsheba looked up at the completion of the manoeuvre and saw the +farmer by the gate, where he was overhung by a willow tree in full +bloom. Gabriel, to whom her face was as the uncertain glory of an +April day, was ever regardful of its faintest changes, and instantly +discerned thereon the mark of some influence from without, in the +form of a keenly self-conscious reddening. He also turned and beheld +Boldwood. + +At once connecting these signs with the letter Boldwood had shown +him, Gabriel suspected her of some coquettish procedure begun by that +means, and carried on since, he knew not how. + +Farmer Boldwood had read the pantomime denoting that they were aware +of his presence, and the perception was as too much light turned upon +his new sensibility. He was still in the road, and by moving on he +hoped that neither would recognize that he had originally intended +to enter the field. He passed by with an utter and overwhelming +sensation of ignorance, shyness, and doubt. Perhaps in her manner +there were signs that she wished to see him--perhaps not--he could +not read a woman. The cabala of this erotic philosophy seemed to +consist of the subtlest meanings expressed in misleading ways. Every +turn, look, word, and accent contained a mystery quite distinct from +its obvious import, and not one had ever been pondered by him until +now. + +As for Bathsheba, she was not deceived into the belief that Farmer +Boldwood had walked by on business or in idleness. She collected +the probabilities of the case, and concluded that she was herself +responsible for Boldwood's appearance there. It troubled her much +to see what a great flame a little wildfire was likely to kindle. +Bathsheba was no schemer for marriage, nor was she deliberately a +trifler with the affections of men, and a censor's experience on +seeing an actual flirt after observing her would have been a feeling +of surprise that Bathsheba could be so different from such a one, +and yet so like what a flirt is supposed to be. + +She resolved never again, by look or by sign, to interrupt the steady +flow of this man's life. But a resolution to avoid an evil is +seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance +impossible. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +THE SHEEP-WASHING--THE OFFER + + +Boldwood did eventually call upon her. She was not at home. "Of +course not," he murmured. In contemplating Bathsheba as a woman, he +had forgotten the accidents of her position as an agriculturist--that +being as much of a farmer, and as extensive a farmer, as himself, +her probable whereabouts was out-of-doors at this time of the year. +This, and the other oversights Boldwood was guilty of, were natural +to the mood, and still more natural to the circumstances. The +great aids to idealization in love were present here: occasional +observation of her from a distance, and the absence of social +intercourse with her--visual familiarity, oral strangeness. The +smaller human elements were kept out of sight; the pettinesses that +enter so largely into all earthly living and doing were disguised by +the accident of lover and loved-one not being on visiting terms; and +there was hardly awakened a thought in Boldwood that sorry household +realities appertained to her, or that she, like all others, had +moments of commonplace, when to be least plainly seen was to be most +prettily remembered. Thus a mild sort of apotheosis took place +in his fancy, whilst she still lived and breathed within his own +horizon, a troubled creature like himself. + +It was the end of May when the farmer determined to be no longer +repulsed by trivialities or distracted by suspense. He had by this +time grown used to being in love; the passion now startled him less +even when it tortured him more, and he felt himself adequate to the +situation. On inquiring for her at her house they had told him she +was at the sheep-washing, and he went off to seek her there. + +The sheep-washing pool was a perfectly circular basin of brickwork in +the meadows, full of the clearest water. To birds on the wing its +glassy surface, reflecting the light sky, must have been visible for +miles around as a glistening Cyclops' eye in a green face. The grass +about the margin at this season was a sight to remember long--in a +minor sort of way. Its activity in sucking the moisture from the +rich damp sod was almost a process observable by the eye. The +outskirts of this level water-meadow were diversified by rounded and +hollow pastures, where just now every flower that was not a buttercup +was a daisy. The river slid along noiselessly as a shade, the +swelling reeds and sedge forming a flexible palisade upon its moist +brink. To the north of the mead were trees, the leaves of which +were new, soft, and moist, not yet having stiffened and darkened +under summer sun and drought, their colour being yellow beside a +green--green beside a yellow. From the recesses of this knot of +foliage the loud notes of three cuckoos were resounding through the +still air. + +Boldwood went meditating down the slopes with his eyes on his boots, +which the yellow pollen from the buttercups had bronzed in artistic +gradations. A tributary of the main stream flowed through the +basin of the pool by an inlet and outlet at opposite points of its +diameter. Shepherd Oak, Jan Coggan, Moon, Poorgrass, Cain Ball, +and several others were assembled here, all dripping wet to the +very roots of their hair, and Bathsheba was standing by in a new +riding-habit--the most elegant she had ever worn--the reins of her +horse being looped over her arm. Flagons of cider were rolling about +upon the green. The meek sheep were pushed into the pool by Coggan +and Matthew Moon, who stood by the lower hatch, immersed to their +waists; then Gabriel, who stood on the brink, thrust them under as +they swam along, with an instrument like a crutch, formed for the +purpose, and also for assisting the exhausted animals when the wool +became saturated and they began to sink. They were let out against +the stream, and through the upper opening, all impurities flowing +away below. Cainy Ball and Joseph, who performed this latter +operation, were if possible wetter than the rest; they resembled +dolphins under a fountain, every protuberance and angle of their +clothes dribbling forth a small rill. + +Boldwood came close and bade her good morning, with such constraint +that she could not but think he had stepped across to the washing for +its own sake, hoping not to find her there; more, she fancied his +brow severe and his eye slighting. Bathsheba immediately contrived +to withdraw, and glided along by the river till she was a stone's +throw off. She heard footsteps brushing the grass, and had a +consciousness that love was encircling her like a perfume. Instead +of turning or waiting, Bathsheba went further among the high sedges, +but Boldwood seemed determined, and pressed on till they were +completely past the bend of the river. Here, without being seen, +they could hear the splashing and shouts of the washers above. + +"Miss Everdene!" said the farmer. + +She trembled, turned, and said "Good morning." His tone was so +utterly removed from all she had expected as a beginning. It was +lowness and quiet accentuated: an emphasis of deep meanings, their +form, at the same time, being scarcely expressed. Silence has +sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied +soul of feeling wandering without its carcase, and it is then more +impressive than speech. In the same way, to say a little is often to +tell more than to say a great deal. Boldwood told everything in that +word. + +As the consciousness expands on learning that what was fancied to +be the rumble of wheels is the reverberation of thunder, so did +Bathsheba's at her intuitive conviction. + +"I feel--almost too much--to think," he said, with a solemn +simplicity. "I have come to speak to you without preface. My life +is not my own since I have beheld you clearly, Miss Everdene--I come +to make you an offer of marriage." + +Bathsheba tried to preserve an absolutely neutral countenance, and +all the motion she made was that of closing lips which had previously +been a little parted. + +"I am now forty-one years old," he went on. "I may have been called +a confirmed bachelor, and I was a confirmed bachelor. I had never +any views of myself as a husband in my earlier days, nor have I made +any calculation on the subject since I have been older. But we all +change, and my change, in this matter, came with seeing you. I have +felt lately, more and more, that my present way of living is bad in +every respect. Beyond all things, I want you as my wife." + +"I feel, Mr. Boldwood, that though I respect you much, I do not +feel--what would justify me to--in accepting your offer," she +stammered. + +This giving back of dignity for dignity seemed to open the sluices of +feeling that Boldwood had as yet kept closed. + +"My life is a burden without you," he exclaimed, in a low voice. "I +want you--I want you to let me say I love you again and again!" + +Bathsheba answered nothing, and the horse upon her arm seemed so +impressed that instead of cropping the herbage she looked up. + +"I think and hope you care enough for me to listen to what I have to +tell!" + +Bathsheba's momentary impulse at hearing this was to ask why he +thought that, till she remembered that, far from being a conceited +assumption on Boldwood's part, it was but the natural conclusion of +serious reflection based on deceptive premises of her own offering. + +"I wish I could say courteous flatteries to you," the farmer +continued in an easier tone, "and put my rugged feeling into a +graceful shape: but I have neither power nor patience to learn such +things. I want you for my wife--so wildly that no other feeling can +abide in me; but I should not have spoken out had I not been led to +hope." + +"The valentine again! O that valentine!" she said to herself, but +not a word to him. + +"If you can love me say so, Miss Everdene. If not--don't say no!" + +"Mr. Boldwood, it is painful to have to say I am surprised, so that +I don't know how to answer you with propriety and respect--but am +only just able to speak out my feeling--I mean my meaning; that I am +afraid I can't marry you, much as I respect you. You are too +dignified for me to suit you, sir." + +"But, Miss Everdene!" + +"I--I didn't--I know I ought never to have dreamt of sending that +valentine--forgive me, sir--it was a wanton thing which no woman with +any self-respect should have done. If you will only pardon my +thoughtlessness, I promise never to--" + +"No, no, no. Don't say thoughtlessness! Make me think it was +something more--that it was a sort of prophetic instinct--the +beginning of a feeling that you would like me. You torture me to say +it was done in thoughtlessness--I never thought of it in that light, +and I can't endure it. Ah! I wish I knew how to win you! but that I +can't do--I can only ask if I have already got you. If I have not, +and it is not true that you have come unwittingly to me as I have to +you, I can say no more." + +"I have not fallen in love with you, Mr. Boldwood--certainly I must +say that." She allowed a very small smile to creep for the first +time over her serious face in saying this, and the white row of upper +teeth, and keenly-cut lips already noticed, suggested an idea of +heartlessness, which was immediately contradicted by the pleasant +eyes. + +"But you will just think--in kindness and condescension think--if you +cannot bear with me as a husband! I fear I am too old for you, but +believe me I will take more care of you than would many a man of your +own age. I will protect and cherish you with all my strength--I will +indeed! You shall have no cares--be worried by no household affairs, +and live quite at ease, Miss Everdene. The dairy superintendence +shall be done by a man--I can afford it well--you shall never have +so much as to look out of doors at haymaking time, or to think of +weather in the harvest. I rather cling to the chaise, because it is +the same my poor father and mother drove, but if you don't like it +I will sell it, and you shall have a pony-carriage of your own. I +cannot say how far above every other idea and object on earth you +seem to me--nobody knows--God only knows--how much you are to me!" + +Bathsheba's heart was young, and it swelled with sympathy for the +deep-natured man who spoke so simply. + +"Don't say it! don't! I cannot bear you to feel so much, and me to +feel nothing. And I am afraid they will notice us, Mr. Boldwood. +Will you let the matter rest now? I cannot think collectedly. I did +not know you were going to say this to me. Oh, I am wicked to have +made you suffer so!" She was frightened as well as agitated at his +vehemence. + +"Say then, that you don't absolutely refuse. Do not quite refuse?" + +"I can do nothing. I cannot answer." + +"I may speak to you again on the subject?" + +"Yes." + +"I may think of you?" + +"Yes, I suppose you may think of me." + +"And hope to obtain you?" + +"No--do not hope! Let us go on." + +"I will call upon you again to-morrow." + +"No--please not. Give me time." + +"Yes--I will give you any time," he said earnestly and gratefully. +"I am happier now." + +"No--I beg you! Don't be happier if happiness only comes from my +agreeing. Be neutral, Mr. Boldwood! I must think." + +"I will wait," he said. + +And then she turned away. Boldwood dropped his gaze to the ground, +and stood long like a man who did not know where he was. Realities +then returned upon him like the pain of a wound received in an +excitement which eclipses it, and he, too, then went on. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +PERPLEXITY--GRINDING THE SHEARS--A QUARREL + + +"He is so disinterested and kind to offer me all that I can desire," +Bathsheba mused. + +Yet Farmer Boldwood, whether by nature kind or the reverse to kind, +did not exercise kindness, here. The rarest offerings of the purest +loves are but a self-indulgence, and no generosity at all. + +Bathsheba, not being the least in love with him, was eventually able +to look calmly at his offer. It was one which many women of her own +station in the neighbourhood, and not a few of higher rank, would +have been wild to accept and proud to publish. In every point of +view, ranging from politic to passionate, it was desirable that she, +a lonely girl, should marry, and marry this earnest, well-to-do, +and respected man. He was close to her doors: his standing was +sufficient: his qualities were even supererogatory. Had she felt, +which she did not, any wish whatever for the married state in the +abstract, she could not reasonably have rejected him, being a woman +who frequently appealed to her understanding for deliverance from +her whims. Boldwood as a means to marriage was unexceptionable: she +esteemed and liked him, yet she did not want him. It appears that +ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without +marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage +is not possible without possession; with totally differing aims the +method is the same on both sides. But the understood incentive on +the woman's part was wanting here. Besides, Bathsheba's position +as absolute mistress of a farm and house was a novel one, and the +novelty had not yet begun to wear off. + +But a disquiet filled her which was somewhat to her credit, for it +would have affected few. Beyond the mentioned reasons with which +she combated her objections, she had a strong feeling that, having +been the one who began the game, she ought in honesty to accept the +consequences. Still the reluctance remained. She said in the same +breath that it would be ungenerous not to marry Boldwood, and that +she couldn't do it to save her life. + +Bathsheba's was an impulsive nature under a deliberative aspect. An +Elizabeth in brain and a Mary Stuart in spirit, she often performed +actions of the greatest temerity with a manner of extreme discretion. +Many of her thoughts were perfect syllogisms; unluckily they always +remained thoughts. Only a few were irrational assumptions; but, +unfortunately, they were the ones which most frequently grew into +deeds. + +The next day to that of the declaration she found Gabriel Oak at the +bottom of her garden, grinding his shears for the sheep-shearing. +All the surrounding cottages were more or less scenes of the same +operation; the scurr of whetting spread into the sky from all parts +of the village as from an armoury previous to a campaign. Peace and +war kiss each other at their hours of preparation--sickles, scythes, +shears, and pruning-hooks, ranking with swords, bayonets, and lances, +in their common necessity for point and edge. + +Cainy Ball turned the handle of Gabriel's grindstone, his head +performing a melancholy see-saw up and down with each turn of the +wheel. Oak stood somewhat as Eros is represented when in the act of +sharpening his arrows: his figure slightly bent, the weight of his +body thrown over on the shears, and his head balanced side-ways, with +a critical compression of the lips and contraction of the eyelids to +crown the attitude. + +His mistress came up and looked upon them in silence for a minute or +two; then she said-- + +"Cain, go to the lower mead and catch the bay mare. I'll turn the +winch of the grindstone. I want to speak to you, Gabriel." + +Cain departed, and Bathsheba took the handle. Gabriel had glanced up +in intense surprise, quelled its expression, and looked down again. +Bathsheba turned the winch, and Gabriel applied the shears. + +The peculiar motion involved in turning a wheel has a wonderful +tendency to benumb the mind. It is a sort of attenuated variety of +Ixion's punishment, and contributes a dismal chapter to the history +of gaols. The brain gets muddled, the head grows heavy, and the +body's centre of gravity seems to settle by degrees in a leaden lump +somewhere between the eyebrows and the crown. Bathsheba felt the +unpleasant symptoms after two or three dozen turns. + +"Will you turn, Gabriel, and let me hold the shears?" she said. "My +head is in a whirl, and I can't talk." + +Gabriel turned. Bathsheba then began, with some awkwardness, +allowing her thoughts to stray occasionally from her story to attend +to the shears, which required a little nicety in sharpening. + +"I wanted to ask you if the men made any observations on my going +behind the sedge with Mr. Boldwood yesterday?" + +"Yes, they did," said Gabriel. "You don't hold the shears right, +miss--I knew you wouldn't know the way--hold like this." + +He relinquished the winch, and inclosing her two hands completely in +his own (taking each as we sometimes slap a child's hand in teaching +him to write), grasped the shears with her. "Incline the edge so," +he said. + +Hands and shears were inclined to suit the words, and held thus for a +peculiarly long time by the instructor as he spoke. + +"That will do," exclaimed Bathsheba. "Loose my hands. I won't have +them held! Turn the winch." + +Gabriel freed her hands quietly, retired to his handle, and the +grinding went on. + +"Did the men think it odd?" she said again. + +"Odd was not the idea, miss." + +"What did they say?" + +"That Farmer Boldwood's name and your own were likely to be flung +over pulpit together before the year was out." + +"I thought so by the look of them! Why, there's nothing in it. A +more foolish remark was never made, and I want you to contradict it! +that's what I came for." + +Gabriel looked incredulous and sad, but between his moments of +incredulity, relieved. + +"They must have heard our conversation," she continued. + +"Well, then, Bathsheba!" said Oak, stopping the handle, and gazing +into her face with astonishment. + +"Miss Everdene, you mean," she said, with dignity. + +"I mean this, that if Mr. Boldwood really spoke of marriage, I bain't +going to tell a story and say he didn't to please you. I have +already tried to please you too much for my own good!" + +Bathsheba regarded him with round-eyed perplexity. She did not know +whether to pity him for disappointed love of her, or to be angry with +him for having got over it--his tone being ambiguous. + +"I said I wanted you just to mention that it was not true I was going +to be married to him," she murmured, with a slight decline in her +assurance. + +"I can say that to them if you wish, Miss Everdene. And I could +likewise give an opinion to 'ee on what you have done." + +"I daresay. But I don't want your opinion." + +"I suppose not," said Gabriel bitterly, and going on with his +turning, his words rising and falling in a regular swell and cadence +as he stooped or rose with the winch, which directed them, according +to his position, perpendicularly into the earth, or horizontally +along the garden, his eyes being fixed on a leaf upon the ground. + +With Bathsheba a hastened act was a rash act; but, as does not always +happen, time gained was prudence insured. It must be added, however, +that time was very seldom gained. At this period the single opinion +in the parish on herself and her doings that she valued as sounder +than her own was Gabriel Oak's. And the outspoken honesty of his +character was such that on any subject, even that of her love for, +or marriage with, another man, the same disinterestedness of opinion +might be calculated on, and be had for the asking. Thoroughly +convinced of the impossibility of his own suit, a high resolve +constrained him not to injure that of another. This is a lover's +most stoical virtue, as the lack of it is a lover's most venial sin. +Knowing he would reply truly she asked the question, painful as +she must have known the subject would be. Such is the selfishness +of some charming women. Perhaps it was some excuse for her thus +torturing honesty to her own advantage, that she had absolutely no +other sound judgment within easy reach. + +"Well, what is your opinion of my conduct," she said, quietly. + +"That it is unworthy of any thoughtful, and meek, and comely woman." + +In an instant Bathsheba's face coloured with the angry crimson of +a Danby sunset. But she forbore to utter this feeling, and the +reticence of her tongue only made the loquacity of her face the more +noticeable. + +The next thing Gabriel did was to make a mistake. + +"Perhaps you don't like the rudeness of my reprimanding you, for I +know it is rudeness; but I thought it would do good." + +She instantly replied sarcastically-- + +"On the contrary, my opinion of you is so low, that I see in your +abuse the praise of discerning people!" + +"I am glad you don't mind it, for I said it honestly and with every +serious meaning." + +"I see. But, unfortunately, when you try not to speak in jest you +are amusing--just as when you wish to avoid seriousness you sometimes +say a sensible word." + +It was a hard hit, but Bathsheba had unmistakably lost her temper, +and on that account Gabriel had never in his life kept his own +better. He said nothing. She then broke out-- + +"I may ask, I suppose, where in particular my unworthiness lies? In +my not marrying you, perhaps!" + +"Not by any means," said Gabriel quietly. "I have long given up +thinking of that matter." + +"Or wishing it, I suppose," she said; and it was apparent that she +expected an unhesitating denial of this supposition. + +Whatever Gabriel felt, he coolly echoed her words-- + +"Or wishing it either." + +A woman may be treated with a bitterness which is sweet to her, +and with a rudeness which is not offensive. Bathsheba would have +submitted to an indignant chastisement for her levity had Gabriel +protested that he was loving her at the same time; the impetuosity +of passion unrequited is bearable, even if it stings and +anathematizes--there is a triumph in the humiliation, and a +tenderness in the strife. This was what she had been expecting, +and what she had not got. To be lectured because the lecturer saw +her in the cold morning light of open-shuttered disillusion was +exasperating. He had not finished, either. He continued in a more +agitated voice:-- + +"My opinion is (since you ask it) that you are greatly to blame for +playing pranks upon a man like Mr. Boldwood, merely as a pastime. +Leading on a man you don't care for is not a praiseworthy action. +And even, Miss Everdene, if you seriously inclined towards him, you +might have let him find it out in some way of true loving-kindness, +and not by sending him a valentine's letter." + +Bathsheba laid down the shears. + +"I cannot allow any man to--to criticise my private conduct!" she +exclaimed. "Nor will I for a minute. So you'll please leave the +farm at the end of the week!" + +It may have been a peculiarity--at any rate it was a fact--that when +Bathsheba was swayed by an emotion of an earthly sort her lower lip +trembled: when by a refined emotion, her upper or heavenward one. +Her nether lip quivered now. + +"Very well, so I will," said Gabriel calmly. He had been held to +her by a beautiful thread which it pained him to spoil by breaking, +rather than by a chain he could not break. "I should be even better +pleased to go at once," he added. + +"Go at once then, in Heaven's name!" said she, her eyes flashing at +his, though never meeting them. "Don't let me see your face any +more." + +"Very well, Miss Everdene--so it shall be." + +And he took his shears and went away from her in placid dignity, as +Moses left the presence of Pharaoh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +TROUBLES IN THE FOLD--A MESSAGE + + +Gabriel Oak had ceased to feed the Weatherbury flock for about +four-and-twenty hours, when on Sunday afternoon the elderly gentlemen +Joseph Poorgrass, Matthew Moon, Fray, and half-a-dozen others, came +running up to the house of the mistress of the Upper Farm. + +"Whatever IS the matter, men?" she said, meeting them at the door +just as she was coming out on her way to church, and ceasing in a +moment from the close compression of her two red lips, with which +she had accompanied the exertion of pulling on a tight glove. + +"Sixty!" said Joseph Poorgrass. + +"Seventy!" said Moon. + +"Fifty-nine!" said Susan Tall's husband. + +"--Sheep have broke fence," said Fray. + +"--And got into a field of young clover," said Tall. + +"--Young clover!" said Moon. + +"--Clover!" said Joseph Poorgrass. + +"And they be getting blasted," said Henery Fray. + +"That they be," said Joseph. + +"And will all die as dead as nits, if they bain't got out and cured!" +said Tall. + +Joseph's countenance was drawn into lines and puckers by his concern. +Fray's forehead was wrinkled both perpendicularly and crosswise, +after the pattern of a portcullis, expressive of a double despair. +Laban Tall's lips were thin, and his face was rigid. Matthew's jaws +sank, and his eyes turned whichever way the strongest muscle happened +to pull them. + +"Yes," said Joseph, "and I was sitting at home, looking for +Ephesians, and says I to myself, ''Tis nothing but Corinthians and +Thessalonians in this danged Testament,' when who should come in but +Henery there: 'Joseph,' he said, 'the sheep have blasted +theirselves--'" + +With Bathsheba it was a moment when thought was speech and speech +exclamation. Moreover, she had hardly recovered her equanimity since +the disturbance which she had suffered from Oak's remarks. + +"That's enough--that's enough!--oh, you fools!" she cried, throwing +the parasol and Prayer-book into the passage, and running out of +doors in the direction signified. "To come to me, and not go and get +them out directly! Oh, the stupid numskulls!" + +Her eyes were at their darkest and brightest now. Bathsheba's beauty +belonging rather to the demonian than to the angelic school, she +never looked so well as when she was angry--and particularly when the +effect was heightened by a rather dashing velvet dress, carefully put +on before a glass. + +All the ancient men ran in a jumbled throng after her to the +clover-field, Joseph sinking down in the midst when about half-way, +like an individual withering in a world which was more and more +insupportable. Having once received the stimulus that her presence +always gave them they went round among the sheep with a will. The +majority of the afflicted animals were lying down, and could not be +stirred. These were bodily lifted out, and the others driven into +the adjoining field. Here, after the lapse of a few minutes, several +more fell down, and lay helpless and livid as the rest. + +Bathsheba, with a sad, bursting heart, looked at these primest +specimens of her prime flock as they rolled there-- + + + Swoln with wind and the rank mist they drew. + + +Many of them foamed at the mouth, their breathing being quick and +short, whilst the bodies of all were fearfully distended. + +"Oh, what can I do, what can I do!" said Bathsheba, helplessly. +"Sheep are such unfortunate animals!--there's always something +happening to them! I never knew a flock pass a year without getting +into some scrape or other." + +"There's only one way of saving them," said Tall. + +"What way? Tell me quick!" + +"They must be pierced in the side with a thing made on purpose." + +"Can you do it? Can I?" + +"No, ma'am. We can't, nor you neither. It must be done in a +particular spot. If ye go to the right or left but an inch you stab +the ewe and kill her. Not even a shepherd can do it, as a rule." + +"Then they must die," she said, in a resigned tone. + +"Only one man in the neighbourhood knows the way," said Joseph, now +just come up. "He could cure 'em all if he were here." + +"Who is he? Let's get him!" + +"Shepherd Oak," said Matthew. "Ah, he's a clever man in talents!" + +"Ah, that he is so!" said Joseph Poorgrass. + +"True--he's the man," said Laban Tall. + +"How dare you name that man in my presence!" she said excitedly. "I +told you never to allude to him, nor shall you if you stay with me. +Ah!" she added, brightening, "Farmer Boldwood knows!" + +"O no, ma'am" said Matthew. "Two of his store ewes got into some +vetches t'other day, and were just like these. He sent a man on +horseback here post-haste for Gable, and Gable went and saved 'em. +Farmer Boldwood hev got the thing they do it with. 'Tis a holler +pipe, with a sharp pricker inside. Isn't it, Joseph?" + +"Ay--a holler pipe," echoed Joseph. "That's what 'tis." + +"Ay, sure--that's the machine," chimed in Henery Fray, reflectively, +with an Oriental indifference to the flight of time. + +"Well," burst out Bathsheba, "don't stand there with your 'ayes' +and your 'sures' talking at me! Get somebody to cure the sheep +instantly!" + +All then stalked off in consternation, to get somebody as directed, +without any idea of who it was to be. In a minute they had vanished +through the gate, and she stood alone with the dying flock. + +"Never will I send for him--never!" she said firmly. + +One of the ewes here contracted its muscles horribly, extended +itself, and jumped high into the air. The leap was an astonishing +one. The ewe fell heavily, and lay still. + +Bathsheba went up to it. The sheep was dead. + +"Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do!" she again exclaimed, wringing +her hands. "I won't send for him. No, I won't!" + +The most vigorous expression of a resolution does not always coincide +with the greatest vigour of the resolution itself. It is often flung +out as a sort of prop to support a decaying conviction which, whilst +strong, required no enunciation to prove it so. The "No, I won't" of +Bathsheba meant virtually, "I think I must." + +She followed her assistants through the gate, and lifted her hand to +one of them. Laban answered to her signal. + +"Where is Oak staying?" + +"Across the valley at Nest Cottage!" + +"Jump on the bay mare, and ride across, and say he must return +instantly--that I say so." + +Tall scrambled off to the field, and in two minutes was on Poll, +the bay, bare-backed, and with only a halter by way of rein. He +diminished down the hill. + +Bathsheba watched. So did all the rest. Tall cantered along the +bridle-path through Sixteen Acres, Sheeplands, Middle Field, The +Flats, Cappel's Piece, shrank almost to a point, crossed the bridge, +and ascended from the valley through Springmead and Whitepits on the +other side. The cottage to which Gabriel had retired before taking +his final departure from the locality was visible as a white spot on +the opposite hill, backed by blue firs. Bathsheba walked up and +down. The men entered the field and endeavoured to ease the anguish +of the dumb creatures by rubbing them. Nothing availed. + +Bathsheba continued walking. The horse was seen descending the +hill, and the wearisome series had to be repeated in reverse order: +Whitepits, Springmead, Cappel's Piece, The Flats, Middle Field, +Sheeplands, Sixteen Acres. She hoped Tall had had presence of mind +enough to give the mare up to Gabriel, and return himself on foot. +The rider neared them. It was Tall. + +"Oh, what folly!" said Bathsheba. + +Gabriel was not visible anywhere. + +"Perhaps he is already gone!" she said. + +Tall came into the inclosure, and leapt off, his face tragic as +Morton's after the battle of Shrewsbury. + +"Well?" said Bathsheba, unwilling to believe that her verbal +_lettre-de-cachet_ could possibly have miscarried. + +"He says BEGGARS MUSTN'T BE CHOOSERS," replied Laban. + +"What!" said the young farmer, opening her eyes and drawing in her +breath for an outburst. Joseph Poorgrass retired a few steps behind +a hurdle. + +"He says he shall not come onless you request en to come civilly and +in a proper manner, as becomes any 'ooman begging a favour." + +"Oh, oh, that's his answer! Where does he get his airs? Who am I, +then, to be treated like that? Shall I beg to a man who has begged +to me?" + +Another of the flock sprang into the air, and fell dead. + +The men looked grave, as if they suppressed opinion. + +Bathsheba turned aside, her eyes full of tears. The strait she was +in through pride and shrewishness could not be disguised longer: she +burst out crying bitterly; they all saw it; and she attempted no +further concealment. + +"I wouldn't cry about it, miss," said William Smallbury, +compassionately. "Why not ask him softer like? I'm sure he'd come +then. Gable is a true man in that way." + +Bathsheba checked her grief and wiped her eyes. "Oh, it is a wicked +cruelty to me--it is--it is!" she murmured. "And he drives me to do +what I wouldn't; yes, he does!--Tall, come indoors." + +After this collapse, not very dignified for the head of an +establishment, she went into the house, Tall at her heels. Here she +sat down and hastily scribbled a note between the small convulsive +sobs of convalescence which follow a fit of crying as a ground-swell +follows a storm. The note was none the less polite for being written +in a hurry. She held it at a distance, was about to fold it, then +added these words at the bottom:-- + + + "DO NOT DESERT ME, GABRIEL!" + + +She looked a little redder in refolding it, and closed her lips, +as if thereby to suspend till too late the action of conscience in +examining whether such strategy were justifiable. The note was +despatched as the message had been, and Bathsheba waited indoors +for the result. + +It was an anxious quarter of an hour that intervened between the +messenger's departure and the sound of the horse's tramp again +outside. She could not watch this time, but, leaning over the old +bureau at which she had written the letter, closed her eyes, as if +to keep out both hope and fear. + +The case, however, was a promising one. Gabriel was not angry: he +was simply neutral, although her first command had been so haughty. +Such imperiousness would have damned a little less beauty; and +on the other hand, such beauty would have redeemed a little less +imperiousness. + +She went out when the horse was heard, and looked up. A mounted +figure passed between her and the sky, and drew on towards the field +of sheep, the rider turning his face in receding. Gabriel looked at +her. It was a moment when a woman's eyes and tongue tell distinctly +opposite tales. Bathsheba looked full of gratitude, and she said:-- + +"Oh, Gabriel, how could you serve me so unkindly!" + +Such a tenderly-shaped reproach for his previous delay was the +one speech in the language that he could pardon for not being +commendation of his readiness now. + +Gabriel murmured a confused reply, and hastened on. She knew from +the look which sentence in her note had brought him. Bathsheba +followed to the field. + +Gabriel was already among the turgid, prostrate forms. He had flung +off his coat, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and taken from his pocket +the instrument of salvation. It was a small tube or trochar, with +a lance passing down the inside; and Gabriel began to use it with a +dexterity that would have graced a hospital surgeon. Passing his +hand over the sheep's left flank, and selecting the proper point, he +punctured the skin and rumen with the lance as it stood in the tube; +then he suddenly withdrew the lance, retaining the tube in its place. +A current of air rushed up the tube, forcible enough to have +extinguished a candle held at the orifice. + +It has been said that mere ease after torment is delight for a time; +and the countenances of these poor creatures expressed it now. +Forty-nine operations were successfully performed. Owing to the +great hurry necessitated by the far-gone state of some of the flock, +Gabriel missed his aim in one case, and in one only--striking wide +of the mark, and inflicting a mortal blow at once upon the suffering +ewe. Four had died; three recovered without an operation. The total +number of sheep which had thus strayed and injured themselves so +dangerously was fifty-seven. + +When the love-led man had ceased from his labours, Bathsheba came and +looked him in the face. + +"Gabriel, will you stay on with me?" she said, smiling winningly, +and not troubling to bring her lips quite together again at the end, +because there was going to be another smile soon. + +"I will," said Gabriel. + +And she smiled on him again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +THE GREAT BARN AND THE SHEEP-SHEARERS + + +Men thin away to insignificance and oblivion quite as often by not +making the most of good spirits when they have them as by lacking +good spirits when they are indispensable. Gabriel lately, for the +first time since his prostration by misfortune, had been independent +in thought and vigorous in action to a marked extent--conditions +which, powerless without an opportunity as an opportunity without +them is barren, would have given him a sure lift upwards when the +favourable conjunction should have occurred. But this incurable +loitering beside Bathsheba Everdene stole his time ruinously. The +spring tides were going by without floating him off, and the neap +might soon come which could not. + +It was the first day of June, and the sheep-shearing season +culminated, the landscape, even to the leanest pasture, being +all health and colour. Every green was young, every pore was +open, and every stalk was swollen with racing currents of juice. +God was palpably present in the country, and the devil had gone +with the world to town. Flossy catkins of the later kinds, +fern-sprouts like bishops' croziers, the square-headed moschatel, +the odd cuckoo-pint,--like an apoplectic saint in a niche of +malachite,--snow-white ladies'-smocks, the toothwort, approximating +to human flesh, the enchanter's night-shade, and the black-petaled +doleful-bells, were among the quainter objects of the vegetable world +in and about Weatherbury at this teeming time; and of the animal, +the metamorphosed figures of Mr. Jan Coggan, the master-shearer; the +second and third shearers, who travelled in the exercise of their +calling, and do not require definition by name; Henery Fray the +fourth shearer, Susan Tall's husband the fifth, Joseph Poorgrass +the sixth, young Cain Ball as assistant-shearer, and Gabriel Oak as +general supervisor. None of these were clothed to any extent worth +mentioning, each appearing to have hit in the matter of raiment the +decent mean between a high and low caste Hindoo. An angularity of +lineament, and a fixity of facial machinery in general, proclaimed +that serious work was the order of the day. + +They sheared in the great barn, called for the nonce the +Shearing-barn, which on ground-plan resembled a church with +transepts. It not only emulated the form of the neighbouring church +of the parish, but vied with it in antiquity. Whether the barn had +ever formed one of a group of conventual buildings nobody seemed to +be aware; no trace of such surroundings remained. The vast porches +at the sides, lofty enough to admit a waggon laden to its highest +with corn in the sheaf, were spanned by heavy-pointed arches of +stone, broadly and boldly cut, whose very simplicity was the origin +of a grandeur not apparent in erections where more ornament has been +attempted. The dusky, filmed, chestnut roof, braced and tied in +by huge collars, curves, and diagonals, was far nobler in design, +because more wealthy in material, than nine-tenths of those in our +modern churches. Along each side wall was a range of striding +buttresses, throwing deep shadows on the spaces between them, which +were perforated by lancet openings, combining in their proportions +the precise requirements both of beauty and ventilation. + +One could say about this barn, what could hardly be said of either +the church or the castle, akin to it in age and style, that the +purpose which had dictated its original erection was the same with +that to which it was still applied. Unlike and superior to either +of those two typical remnants of mediævalism, the old barn embodied +practices which had suffered no mutilation at the hands of time. +Here at least the spirit of the ancient builders was at one with +the spirit of the modern beholder. Standing before this abraded +pile, the eye regarded its present usage, the mind dwelt upon its +past history, with a satisfied sense of functional continuity +throughout--a feeling almost of gratitude, and quite of pride, at the +permanence of the idea which had heaped it up. The fact that four +centuries had neither proved it to be founded on a mistake, inspired +any hatred of its purpose, nor given rise to any reaction that had +battered it down, invested this simple grey effort of old minds with +a repose, if not a grandeur, which a too curious reflection was apt +to disturb in its ecclesiastical and military compeers. For once +mediævalism and modernism had a common stand-point. The lanceolate +windows, the time-eaten archstones and chamfers, the orientation of +the axis, the misty chestnut work of the rafters, referred to no +exploded fortifying art or worn-out religious creed. The defence and +salvation of the body by daily bread is still a study, a religion, +and a desire. + +To-day the large side doors were thrown open towards the sun to admit +a bountiful light to the immediate spot of the shearers' operations, +which was the wood threshing-floor in the centre, formed of thick +oak, black with age and polished by the beating of flails for many +generations, till it had grown as slippery and as rich in hue as +the state-room floors of an Elizabethan mansion. Here the shearers +knelt, the sun slanting in upon their bleached shirts, tanned arms, +and the polished shears they flourished, causing these to bristle +with a thousand rays strong enough to blind a weak-eyed man. Beneath +them a captive sheep lay panting, quickening its pants as misgiving +merged in terror, till it quivered like the hot landscape outside. + +This picture of to-day in its frame of four hundred years ago did +not produce that marked contrast between ancient and modern which +is implied by the contrast of date. In comparison with cities, +Weatherbury was immutable. The citizen's THEN is the rustic's +NOW. In London, twenty or thirty-years ago are old times; in Paris +ten years, or five; in Weatherbury three or four score years were +included in the mere present, and nothing less than a century set a +mark on its face or tone. Five decades hardly modified the cut of a +gaiter, the embroidery of a smock-frock, by the breadth of a hair. +Ten generations failed to alter the turn of a single phrase. In +these Wessex nooks the busy outsider's ancient times are only old; +his old times are still new; his present is futurity. + +So the barn was natural to the shearers, and the shearers were in +harmony with the barn. + +The spacious ends of the building, answering ecclesiastically to nave +and chancel extremities, were fenced off with hurdles, the sheep +being all collected in a crowd within these two enclosures; and in +one angle a catching-pen was formed, in which three or four sheep +were continuously kept ready for the shearers to seize without loss +of time. In the background, mellowed by tawny shade, were the three +women, Maryann Money, and Temperance and Soberness Miller, gathering +up the fleeces and twisting ropes of wool with a wimble for tying +them round. They were indifferently well assisted by the old +maltster, who, when the malting season from October to April had +passed, made himself useful upon any of the bordering farmsteads. + +Behind all was Bathsheba, carefully watching the men to see that +there was no cutting or wounding through carelessness, and that the +animals were shorn close. Gabriel, who flitted and hovered under her +bright eyes like a moth, did not shear continuously, half his time +being spent in attending to the others and selecting the sheep for +them. At the present moment he was engaged in handing round a mug of +mild liquor, supplied from a barrel in the corner, and cut pieces of +bread and cheese. + +Bathsheba, after throwing a glance here, a caution there, and +lecturing one of the younger operators who had allowed his last +finished sheep to go off among the flock without re-stamping it with +her initials, came again to Gabriel, as he put down the luncheon to +drag a frightened ewe to his shear-station, flinging it over upon its +back with a dexterous twist of the arm. He lopped off the tresses +about its head, and opened up the neck and collar, his mistress +quietly looking on. + +"She blushes at the insult," murmured Bathsheba, watching the pink +flush which arose and overspread the neck and shoulders of the ewe +where they were left bare by the clicking shears--a flush which was +enviable, for its delicacy, by many queens of coteries, and would +have been creditable, for its promptness, to any woman in the world. + +Poor Gabriel's soul was fed with a luxury of content by having her +over him, her eyes critically regarding his skilful shears, which +apparently were going to gather up a piece of the flesh at every +close, and yet never did so. Like Guildenstern, Oak was happy in +that he was not over happy. He had no wish to converse with her: +that his bright lady and himself formed one group, exclusively their +own, and containing no others in the world, was enough. + +So the chatter was all on her side. There is a loquacity that tells +nothing, which was Bathsheba's; and there is a silence which says +much: that was Gabriel's. Full of this dim and temperate bliss, he +went on to fling the ewe over upon her other side, covering her head +with his knee, gradually running the shears line after line round her +dewlap; thence about her flank and back, and finishing over the tail. + +"Well done, and done quickly!" said Bathsheba, looking at her watch +as the last snip resounded. + +"How long, miss?" said Gabriel, wiping his brow. + +"Three-and-twenty minutes and a half since you took the first lock +from its forehead. It is the first time that I have ever seen one +done in less than half an hour." + +The clean, sleek creature arose from its fleece--how perfectly +like Aphrodite rising from the foam should have been seen to be +realized--looking startled and shy at the loss of its garment, which +lay on the floor in one soft cloud, united throughout, the portion +visible being the inner surface only, which, never before exposed, +was white as snow, and without flaw or blemish of the minutest kind. + +"Cain Ball!" + +"Yes, Mister Oak; here I be!" + +Cainy now runs forward with the tar-pot. "B. E." is newly stamped +upon the shorn skin, and away the simple dam leaps, panting, over the +board into the shirtless flock outside. Then up comes Maryann; +throws the loose locks into the middle of the fleece, rolls it up, +and carries it into the background as three-and-a-half pounds of +unadulterated warmth for the winter enjoyment of persons unknown and +far away, who will, however, never experience the superlative comfort +derivable from the wool as it here exists, new and pure--before +the unctuousness of its nature whilst in a living state has dried, +stiffened, and been washed out--rendering it just now as superior +to anything WOOLLEN as cream is superior to milk-and-water. + +But heartless circumstance could not leave entire Gabriel's happiness +of this morning. The rams, old ewes, and two-shear ewes had duly +undergone their stripping, and the men were proceeding with the +shear-lings and hogs, when Oak's belief that she was going to stand +pleasantly by and time him through another performance was painfully +interrupted by Farmer Boldwood's appearance in the extremest corner +of the barn. Nobody seemed to have perceived his entry, but there he +certainly was. Boldwood always carried with him a social atmosphere +of his own, which everybody felt who came near him; and the talk, +which Bathsheba's presence had somewhat suppressed, was now totally +suspended. + +He crossed over towards Bathsheba, who turned to greet him with a +carriage of perfect ease. He spoke to her in low tones, and she +instinctively modulated her own to the same pitch, and her voice +ultimately even caught the inflection of his. She was far from +having a wish to appear mysteriously connected with him; but woman at +the impressionable age gravitates to the larger body not only in her +choice of words, which is apparent every day, but even in her shades +of tone and humour, when the influence is great. + +What they conversed about was not audible to Gabriel, who was too +independent to get near, though too concerned to disregard. The +issue of their dialogue was the taking of her hand by the courteous +farmer to help her over the spreading-board into the bright June +sunlight outside. Standing beside the sheep already shorn, they went +on talking again. Concerning the flock? Apparently not. Gabriel +theorized, not without truth, that in quiet discussion of any matter +within reach of the speakers' eyes, these are usually fixed upon +it. Bathsheba demurely regarded a contemptible straw lying upon the +ground, in a way which suggested less ovine criticism than womanly +embarrassment. She became more or less red in the cheek, the blood +wavering in uncertain flux and reflux over the sensitive space +between ebb and flood. Gabriel sheared on, constrained and sad. + +She left Boldwood's side, and he walked up and down alone for nearly +a quarter of an hour. Then she reappeared in her new riding-habit of +myrtle green, which fitted her to the waist as a rind fits its fruit; +and young Bob Coggan led on her mare, Boldwood fetching his own horse +from the tree under which it had been tied. + +Oak's eyes could not forsake them; and in endeavouring to continue +his shearing at the same time that he watched Boldwood's manner, +he snipped the sheep in the groin. The animal plunged; Bathsheba +instantly gazed towards it, and saw the blood. + +"Oh, Gabriel!" she exclaimed, with severe remonstrance, "you who are +so strict with the other men--see what you are doing yourself!" + +To an outsider there was not much to complain of in this remark; but +to Oak, who knew Bathsheba to be well aware that she herself was the +cause of the poor ewe's wound, because she had wounded the ewe's +shearer in a still more vital part, it had a sting which the abiding +sense of his inferiority to both herself and Boldwood was not +calculated to heal. But a manly resolve to recognize boldly that he +had no longer a lover's interest in her, helped him occasionally to +conceal a feeling. + +"Bottle!" he shouted, in an unmoved voice of routine. Cainy Ball ran +up, the wound was anointed, and the shearing continued. + +Boldwood gently tossed Bathsheba into the saddle, and before they +turned away she again spoke out to Oak with the same dominative and +tantalizing graciousness. + +"I am going now to see Mr. Boldwood's Leicesters. Take my place in +the barn, Gabriel, and keep the men carefully to their work." + +The horses' heads were put about, and they trotted away. + +Boldwood's deep attachment was a matter of great interest among all +around him; but, after having been pointed out for so many years +as the perfect exemplar of thriving bachelorship, his lapse was an +anticlimax somewhat resembling that of St. John Long's death by +consumption in the midst of his proofs that it was not a fatal +disease. + +"That means matrimony," said Temperance Miller, following them out of +sight with her eyes. + +"I reckon that's the size o't," said Coggan, working along without +looking up. + +"Well, better wed over the mixen than over the moor," said Laban +Tall, turning his sheep. + +Henery Fray spoke, exhibiting miserable eyes at the same time: "I +don't see why a maid should take a husband when she's bold enough +to fight her own battles, and don't want a home; for 'tis keeping +another woman out. But let it be, for 'tis a pity he and she should +trouble two houses." + +As usual with decided characters, Bathsheba invariably provoked the +criticism of individuals like Henery Fray. Her emblazoned fault was +to be too pronounced in her objections, and not sufficiently overt in +her likings. We learn that it is not the rays which bodies absorb, +but those which they reject, that give them the colours they are +known by; and in the same way people are specialized by their +dislikes and antagonisms, whilst their goodwill is looked upon as no +attribute at all. + +Henery continued in a more complaisant mood: "I once hinted my mind +to her on a few things, as nearly as a battered frame dared to do so +to such a froward piece. You all know, neighbours, what a man I be, +and how I come down with my powerful words when my pride is boiling +wi' scarn?" + +"We do, we do, Henery." + +"So I said, 'Mistress Everdene, there's places empty, and there's +gifted men willing; but the spite'--no, not the spite--I didn't say +spite--'but the villainy of the contrarikind,' I said (meaning +womankind), 'keeps 'em out.' That wasn't too strong for her, say?" + +"Passably well put." + +"Yes; and I would have said it, had death and salvation overtook me +for it. Such is my spirit when I have a mind." + +"A true man, and proud as a lucifer." + +"You see the artfulness? Why, 'twas about being baily really; but +I didn't put it so plain that she could understand my meaning, so I +could lay it on all the stronger. That was my depth! ... However, +let her marry an she will. Perhaps 'tis high time. I believe Farmer +Boldwood kissed her behind the spear-bed at the sheep-washing t'other +day--that I do." + +"What a lie!" said Gabriel. + +"Ah, neighbour Oak--how'st know?" said, Henery, mildly. + +"Because she told me all that passed," said Oak, with a pharisaical +sense that he was not as other shearers in this matter. + +"Ye have a right to believe it," said Henery, with dudgeon; "a very +true right. But I mid see a little distance into things! To be +long-headed enough for a baily's place is a poor mere trifle--yet +a trifle more than nothing. However, I look round upon life quite +cool. Do you heed me, neighbours? My words, though made as simple +as I can, mid be rather deep for some heads." + +"O yes, Henery, we quite heed ye." + +"A strange old piece, goodmen--whirled about from here to yonder, as +if I were nothing! A little warped, too. But I have my depths; ha, +and even my great depths! I might gird at a certain shepherd, brain +to brain. But no--O no!" + +"A strange old piece, ye say!" interposed the maltster, in a +querulous voice. "At the same time ye be no old man worth naming--no +old man at all. Yer teeth bain't half gone yet; and what's a old +man's standing if so be his teeth bain't gone? Weren't I stale in +wedlock afore ye were out of arms? 'Tis a poor thing to be sixty, +when there's people far past four-score--a boast weak as water." + +It was the unvarying custom in Weatherbury to sink minor differences +when the maltster had to be pacified. + +"Weak as water! yes," said Jan Coggan. "Malter, we feel ye to be a +wonderful veteran man, and nobody can gainsay it." + +"Nobody," said Joseph Poorgrass. "Ye be a very rare old spectacle, +malter, and we all admire ye for that gift." + +"Ay, and as a young man, when my senses were in prosperity, I was +likewise liked by a good-few who knowed me," said the maltster. + +"'Ithout doubt you was--'ithout doubt." + +The bent and hoary man was satisfied, and so apparently was Henery +Fray. That matters should continue pleasant Maryann spoke, who, what +with her brown complexion, and the working wrapper of rusty linsey, +had at present the mellow hue of an old sketch in oils--notably some +of Nicholas Poussin's:-- + +"Do anybody know of a crooked man, or a lame, or any second-hand +fellow at all that would do for poor me?" said Maryann. "A perfect +one I don't expect to get at my time of life. If I could hear of +such a thing twould do me more good than toast and ale." + +Coggan furnished a suitable reply. Oak went on with his shearing, +and said not another word. Pestilent moods had come, and teased +away his quiet. Bathsheba had shown indications of anointing him +above his fellows by installing him as the bailiff that the farm +imperatively required. He did not covet the post relatively to the +farm: in relation to herself, as beloved by him and unmarried to +another, he had coveted it. His readings of her seemed now to be +vapoury and indistinct. His lecture to her was, he thought, one of +the absurdest mistakes. Far from coquetting with Boldwood, she had +trifled with himself in thus feigning that she had trifled with +another. He was inwardly convinced that, in accordance with the +anticipations of his easy-going and worse-educated comrades, that day +would see Boldwood the accepted husband of Miss Everdene. Gabriel +at this time of his life had out-grown the instinctive dislike which +every Christian boy has for reading the Bible, perusing it now +quite frequently, and he inwardly said, "'I find more bitter than +death the woman whose heart is snares and nets!'" This was mere +exclamation--the froth of the storm. He adored Bathsheba just the +same. + +"We workfolk shall have some lordly junketing to-night," said Cainy +Ball, casting forth his thoughts in a new direction. "This morning I +see 'em making the great puddens in the milking-pails--lumps of fat +as big as yer thumb, Mister Oak! I've never seed such splendid large +knobs of fat before in the days of my life--they never used to be +bigger then a horse-bean. And there was a great black crock upon the +brandish with his legs a-sticking out, but I don't know what was in +within." + +"And there's two bushels of biffins for apple-pies," said Maryann. + +"Well, I hope to do my duty by it all," said Joseph Poorgrass, in a +pleasant, masticating manner of anticipation. "Yes; victuals and +drink is a cheerful thing, and gives nerves to the nerveless, if the +form of words may be used. 'Tis the gospel of the body, without +which we perish, so to speak it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +EVENTIDE--A SECOND DECLARATION + + +For the shearing-supper a long table was placed on the grass-plot +beside the house, the end of the table being thrust over the sill +of the wide parlour window and a foot or two into the room. Miss +Everdene sat inside the window, facing down the table. She was +thus at the head without mingling with the men. + +This evening Bathsheba was unusually excited, her red cheeks and lips +contrasting lustrously with the mazy skeins of her shadowy hair. She +seemed to expect assistance, and the seat at the bottom of the table +was at her request left vacant until after they had begun the meal. +She then asked Gabriel to take the place and the duties appertaining +to that end, which he did with great readiness. + +At this moment Mr. Boldwood came in at the gate, and crossed the +green to Bathsheba at the window. He apologized for his lateness: +his arrival was evidently by arrangement. + +"Gabriel," said she, "will you move again, please, and let Mr. +Boldwood come there?" + +Oak moved in silence back to his original seat. + +The gentleman-farmer was dressed in cheerful style, in a new coat +and white waistcoat, quite contrasting with his usual sober suits of +grey. Inwardy, too, he was blithe, and consequently chatty to an +exceptional degree. So also was Bathsheba now that he had come, +though the uninvited presence of Pennyways, the bailiff who had been +dismissed for theft, disturbed her equanimity for a while. + +Supper being ended, Coggan began on his own private account, without +reference to listeners:-- + + + I've lost my love, and I care not, + I've lost my love, and I care not; + I shall soon have another + That's better than t'other; + I've lost my love, and I care not. + + +This lyric, when concluded, was received with a silently appreciative +gaze at the table, implying that the performance, like a work by +those established authors who are independent of notices in the +papers, was a well-known delight which required no applause. + +"Now, Master Poorgrass, your song!" said Coggan. + +"I be all but in liquor, and the gift is wanting in me," said Joseph, +diminishing himself. + +"Nonsense; wou'st never be so ungrateful, Joseph--never!" said +Coggan, expressing hurt feelings by an inflection of voice. "And +mistress is looking hard at ye, as much as to say, 'Sing at once, +Joseph Poorgrass.'" + +"Faith, so she is; well, I must suffer it! ... Just eye my features, +and see if the tell-tale blood overheats me much, neighbours?" + +"No, yer blushes be quite reasonable," said Coggan. + +"I always tries to keep my colours from rising when a beauty's eyes +get fixed on me," said Joseph, differently; "but if so be 'tis willed +they do, they must." + +"Now, Joseph, your song, please," said Bathsheba, from the window. + +"Well, really, ma'am," he replied, in a yielding tone, "I don't know +what to say. It would be a poor plain ballet of my own composure." + +"Hear, hear!" said the supper-party. + +Poorgrass, thus assured, trilled forth a flickering yet commendable +piece of sentiment, the tune of which consisted of the key-note and +another, the latter being the sound chiefly dwelt upon. This was so +successful that he rashly plunged into a second in the same breath, +after a few false starts:-- + + + I sow'-ed th'-e ..... + I sow'-ed ..... + I sow'-ed th'-e seeds' of' love', + I-it was' all' i'-in the'-e spring', + I-in A'-pril', Ma'-ay, a'-nd sun'-ny' June', + When sma'-all bi'-irds they' do' sing. + + +"Well put out of hand," said Coggan, at the end of the verse. "'They +do sing' was a very taking paragraph." + +"Ay; and there was a pretty place at 'seeds of love.' and 'twas well +heaved out. Though 'love' is a nasty high corner when a man's voice +is getting crazed. Next verse, Master Poorgrass." + +But during this rendering young Bob Coggan exhibited one of those +anomalies which will afflict little people when other persons are +particularly serious: in trying to check his laughter, he pushed down +his throat as much of the tablecloth as he could get hold of, when, +after continuing hermetically sealed for a short time, his mirth +burst out through his nose. Joseph perceived it, and with hectic +cheeks of indignation instantly ceased singing. Coggan boxed Bob's +ears immediately. + +"Go on, Joseph--go on, and never mind the young scamp," said Coggan. +"'Tis a very catching ballet. Now then again--the next bar; I'll +help ye to flourish up the shrill notes where yer wind is rather +wheezy:-- + + + "Oh the wi'-il-lo'-ow tree' will' twist', + And the wil'-low' tre'-ee wi'-ill twine'." + + +But the singer could not be set going again. Bob Coggan was sent +home for his ill manners, and tranquility was restored by Jacob +Smallbury, who volunteered a ballad as inclusive and interminable +as that with which the worthy toper old Silenus amused on a similar +occasion the swains Chromis and Mnasylus, and other jolly dogs of +his day. + +It was still the beaming time of evening, though night was stealthily +making itself visible low down upon the ground, the western lines of +light raking the earth without alighting upon it to any extent, or +illuminating the dead levels at all. The sun had crept round the +tree as a last effort before death, and then began to sink, the +shearers' lower parts becoming steeped in embrowning twilight, whilst +their heads and shoulders were still enjoying day, touched with a +yellow of self-sustained brilliancy that seemed inherent rather than +acquired. + +The sun went down in an ochreous mist; but they sat, and talked on, +and grew as merry as the gods in Homer's heaven. Bathsheba still +remained enthroned inside the window, and occupied herself in +knitting, from which she sometimes looked up to view the fading scene +outside. The slow twilight expanded and enveloped them completely +before the signs of moving were shown. + +Gabriel suddenly missed Farmer Boldwood from his place at the bottom +of the table. How long he had been gone Oak did not know; but he +had apparently withdrawn into the encircling dusk. Whilst he was +thinking of this, Liddy brought candles into the back part of the +room overlooking the shearers, and their lively new flames shone down +the table and over the men, and dispersed among the green shadows +behind. Bathsheba's form, still in its original position, was now +again distinct between their eyes and the light, which revealed that +Boldwood had gone inside the room, and was sitting near her. + +Next came the question of the evening. Would Miss Everdene sing to +them the song she always sang so charmingly--"The Banks of Allan +Water"--before they went home? + +After a moment's consideration Bathsheba assented, beckoning to +Gabriel, who hastened up into the coveted atmosphere. + +"Have you brought your flute?" she whispered. + +"Yes, miss." + +"Play to my singing, then." + +She stood up in the window-opening, facing the men, the candles +behind her, Gabriel on her right hand, immediately outside the +sash-frame. Boldwood had drawn up on her left, within the room. +Her singing was soft and rather tremulous at first, but it soon +swelled to a steady clearness. Subsequent events caused one of the +verses to be remembered for many months, and even years, by more +than one of those who were gathered there:-- + + + For his bride a soldier sought her, + And a winning tongue had he: + On the banks of Allan Water + None was gay as she! + + +In addition to the dulcet piping of Gabriel's flute, Boldwood +supplied a bass in his customary profound voice, uttering his notes +so softly, however, as to abstain entirely from making anything like +an ordinary duet of the song; they rather formed a rich unexplored +shadow, which threw her tones into relief. The shearers reclined +against each other as at suppers in the early ages of the world, and +so silent and absorbed were they that her breathing could almost be +heard between the bars; and at the end of the ballad, when the last +tone loitered on to an inexpressible close, there arose that buzz of +pleasure which is the attar of applause. + +It is scarcely necessary to state that Gabriel could not avoid noting +the farmer's bearing to-night towards their entertainer. Yet there +was nothing exceptional in his actions beyond what appertained to +his time of performing them. It was when the rest were all looking +away that Boldwood observed her; when they regarded her he turned +aside; when they thanked or praised he was silent; when they +were inattentive he murmured his thanks. The meaning lay in the +difference between actions, none of which had any meaning of itself; +and the necessity of being jealous, which lovers are troubled with, +did not lead Oak to underestimate these signs. + +Bathsheba then wished them good-night, withdrew from the window, and +retired to the back part of the room, Boldwood thereupon closing the +sash and the shutters, and remaining inside with her. Oak wandered +away under the quiet and scented trees. Recovering from the softer +impressions produced by Bathsheba's voice, the shearers rose to +leave, Coggan turning to Pennyways as he pushed back the bench to +pass out:-- + +"I like to give praise where praise is due, and the man deserves +it--that 'a do so," he remarked, looking at the worthy thief, as if +he were the masterpiece of some world-renowned artist. + +"I'm sure I should never have believed it if we hadn't proved it, so +to allude," hiccupped Joseph Poorgrass, "that every cup, every one of +the best knives and forks, and every empty bottle be in their place +as perfect now as at the beginning, and not one stole at all." + +"I'm sure I don't deserve half the praise you give me," said the +virtuous thief, grimly. + +"Well, I'll say this for Pennyways," added Coggan, "that whenever he +do really make up his mind to do a noble thing in the shape of a good +action, as I could see by his face he did to-night afore sitting +down, he's generally able to carry it out. Yes, I'm proud to say, +neighbours, that he's stole nothing at all." + +"Well, 'tis an honest deed, and we thank ye for it, Pennyways," said +Joseph; to which opinion the remainder of the company subscribed +unanimously. + +At this time of departure, when nothing more was visible of the +inside of the parlour than a thin and still chink of light between +the shutters, a passionate scene was in course of enactment there. + +Miss Everdene and Boldwood were alone. Her cheeks had lost a +great deal of their healthful fire from the very seriousness of +her position; but her eye was bright with the excitement of a +triumph--though it was a triumph which had rather been contemplated +than desired. + +She was standing behind a low arm-chair, from which she had just +risen, and he was kneeling in it--inclining himself over its back +towards her, and holding her hand in both his own. His body moved +restlessly, and it was with what Keats daintily calls a too happy +happiness. This unwonted abstraction by love of all dignity from +a man of whom it had ever seemed the chief component, was, in its +distressing incongruity, a pain to her which quenched much of the +pleasure she derived from the proof that she was idolized. + +"I will try to love you," she was saying, in a trembling voice quite +unlike her usual self-confidence. "And if I can believe in any way +that I shall make you a good wife I shall indeed be willing to marry +you. But, Mr. Boldwood, hesitation on so high a matter is honourable +in any woman, and I don't want to give a solemn promise to-night. I +would rather ask you to wait a few weeks till I can see my situation +better. + +"But you have every reason to believe that THEN--" + +"I have every reason to hope that at the end of the five or six +weeks, between this time and harvest, that you say you are going to +be away from home, I shall be able to promise to be your wife," she +said, firmly. "But remember this distinctly, I don't promise yet." + +"It is enough; I don't ask more. I can wait on those dear words. +And now, Miss Everdene, good-night!" + +"Good-night," she said, graciously--almost tenderly; and Boldwood +withdrew with a serene smile. + +Bathsheba knew more of him now; he had entirely bared his heart +before her, even until he had almost worn in her eyes the sorry look +of a grand bird without the feathers that make it grand. She had +been awe-struck at her past temerity, and was struggling to make +amends without thinking whether the sin quite deserved the penalty +she was schooling herself to pay. To have brought all this about her +ears was terrible; but after a while the situation was not without +a fearful joy. The facility with which even the most timid women +sometimes acquire a relish for the dreadful when that is amalgamated +with a little triumph, is marvellous. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +THE SAME NIGHT--THE FIR PLANTATION + + +Among the multifarious duties which Bathsheba had voluntarily imposed +upon herself by dispensing with the services of a bailiff, was the +particular one of looking round the homestead before going to bed, +to see that all was right and safe for the night. Gabriel had +almost constantly preceded her in this tour every evening, watching +her affairs as carefully as any specially appointed officer of +surveillance could have done; but this tender devotion was to a +great extent unknown to his mistress, and as much as was known was +somewhat thanklessly received. Women are never tired of bewailing +man's fickleness in love, but they only seem to snub his constancy. + +As watching is best done invisibly, she usually carried a dark +lantern in her hand, and every now and then turned on the light +to examine nooks and corners with the coolness of a metropolitan +policeman. This coolness may have owed its existence not so much +to her fearlessness of expected danger as to her freedom from the +suspicion of any; her worst anticipated discovery being that a horse +might not be well bedded, the fowls not all in, or a door not closed. + +This night the buildings were inspected as usual, and she went round +to the farm paddock. Here the only sounds disturbing the stillness +were steady munchings of many mouths, and stentorian breathings from +all but invisible noses, ending in snores and puffs like the blowing +of bellows slowly. Then the munching would recommence, when the +lively imagination might assist the eye to discern a group of +pink-white nostrils, shaped as caverns, and very clammy and humid on +their surfaces, not exactly pleasant to the touch until one got used +to them; the mouths beneath having a great partiality for closing +upon any loose end of Bathsheba's apparel which came within reach of +their tongues. Above each of these a still keener vision suggested a +brown forehead and two staring though not unfriendly eyes, and above +all a pair of whitish crescent-shaped horns like two particularly +new moons, an occasional stolid "moo!" proclaiming beyond the shade +of a doubt that these phenomena were the features and persons of +Daisy, Whitefoot, Bonny-lass, Jolly-O, Spot, Twinkle-eye, etc., +etc.--the respectable dairy of Devon cows belonging to Bathsheba +aforesaid. + +Her way back to the house was by a path through a young plantation of +tapering firs, which had been planted some years earlier to shelter +the premises from the north wind. By reason of the density of +the interwoven foliage overhead, it was gloomy there at cloudless +noontide, twilight in the evening, dark as midnight at dusk, and +black as the ninth plague of Egypt at midnight. To describe the spot +is to call it a vast, low, naturally formed hall, the plumy ceiling +of which was supported by slender pillars of living wood, the floor +being covered with a soft dun carpet of dead spikelets and mildewed +cones, with a tuft of grass-blades here and there. + +This bit of the path was always the crux of the night's ramble, +though, before starting, her apprehensions of danger were not vivid +enough to lead her to take a companion. Slipping along here covertly +as Time, Bathsheba fancied she could hear footsteps entering the +track at the opposite end. It was certainly a rustle of footsteps. +Her own instantly fell as gently as snowflakes. She reassured +herself by a remembrance that the path was public, and that the +traveller was probably some villager returning home; regretting, +at the same time, that the meeting should be about to occur in the +darkest point of her route, even though only just outside her own +door. + +The noise approached, came close, and a figure was apparently on the +point of gliding past her when something tugged at her skirt and +pinned it forcibly to the ground. The instantaneous check nearly +threw Bathsheba off her balance. In recovering she struck against +warm clothes and buttons. + +"A rum start, upon my soul!" said a masculine voice, a foot or so +above her head. "Have I hurt you, mate?" + +"No," said Bathsheba, attempting to shrink away. + +"We have got hitched together somehow, I think." + +"Yes." + +"Are you a woman?" + +"Yes." + +"A lady, I should have said." + +"It doesn't matter." + +"I am a man." + +"Oh!" + +Bathsheba softly tugged again, but to no purpose. + +"Is that a dark lantern you have? I fancy so," said the man. + +"Yes." + +"If you'll allow me I'll open it, and set you free." + +A hand seized the lantern, the door was opened, the rays burst +out from their prison, and Bathsheba beheld her position with +astonishment. + +The man to whom she was hooked was brilliant in brass and scarlet. +He was a soldier. His sudden appearance was to darkness what the +sound of a trumpet is to silence. Gloom, the _genius loci_ at all +times hitherto, was now totally overthrown, less by the lantern-light +than by what the lantern lighted. The contrast of this revelation +with her anticipations of some sinister figure in sombre garb was so +great that it had upon her the effect of a fairy transformation. + +It was immediately apparent that the military man's spur had become +entangled in the gimp which decorated the skirt of her dress. He +caught a view of her face. + +"I'll unfasten you in one moment, miss," he said, with new-born +gallantry. + +"Oh no--I can do it, thank you," she hastily replied, and stooped for +the performance. + +The unfastening was not such a trifling affair. The rowel of the +spur had so wound itself among the gimp cords in those few moments, +that separation was likely to be a matter of time. + +He too stooped, and the lantern standing on the ground betwixt them +threw the gleam from its open side among the fir-tree needles and the +blades of long damp grass with the effect of a large glowworm. It +radiated upwards into their faces, and sent over half the plantation +gigantic shadows of both man and woman, each dusky shape becoming +distorted and mangled upon the tree-trunks till it wasted to nothing. + +He looked hard into her eyes when she raised them for a moment; +Bathsheba looked down again, for his gaze was too strong to be +received point-blank with her own. But she had obliquely noticed +that he was young and slim, and that he wore three chevrons upon his +sleeve. + +Bathsheba pulled again. + +"You are a prisoner, miss; it is no use blinking the matter," said +the soldier, drily. "I must cut your dress if you are in such a +hurry." + +"Yes--please do!" she exclaimed, helplessly. + +"It wouldn't be necessary if you could wait a moment," and he unwound +a cord from the little wheel. She withdrew her own hand, but, +whether by accident or design, he touched it. Bathsheba was vexed; +she hardly knew why. + +His unravelling went on, but it nevertheless seemed coming to no end. +She looked at him again. + +"Thank you for the sight of such a beautiful face!" said the young +sergeant, without ceremony. + +She coloured with embarrassment. "'Twas unwillingly shown," she +replied, stiffly, and with as much dignity--which was very little--as +she could infuse into a position of captivity. + +"I like you the better for that incivility, miss," he said. + +"I should have liked--I wish--you had never shown yourself to me by +intruding here!" She pulled again, and the gathers of her dress began +to give way like liliputian musketry. + +"I deserve the chastisement your words give me. But why should such +a fair and dutiful girl have such an aversion to her father's sex?" + +"Go on your way, please." + +"What, Beauty, and drag you after me? Do but look; I never saw such +a tangle!" + +"Oh, 'tis shameful of you; you have been making it worse on purpose +to keep me here--you have!" + +"Indeed, I don't think so," said the sergeant, with a merry twinkle. + +"I tell you you have!" she exclaimed, in high temper. "I insist upon +undoing it. Now, allow me!" + +"Certainly, miss; I am not of steel." He added a sigh which had as +much archness in it as a sigh could possess without losing its nature +altogether. "I am thankful for beauty, even when 'tis thrown to me +like a bone to a dog. These moments will be over too soon!" + +She closed her lips in a determined silence. + +Bathsheba was revolving in her mind whether by a bold and desperate +rush she could free herself at the risk of leaving her skirt bodily +behind her. The thought was too dreadful. The dress--which she had +put on to appear stately at the supper--was the head and front of her +wardrobe; not another in her stock became her so well. What woman +in Bathsheba's position, not naturally timid, and within call of her +retainers, would have bought escape from a dashing soldier at so dear +a price? + +"All in good time; it will soon be done, I perceive," said her cool +friend. + +"This trifling provokes, and--and--" + +"Not too cruel!" + +"--Insults me!" + +"It is done in order that I may have the pleasure of apologizing to +so charming a woman, which I straightway do most humbly, madam," he +said, bowing low. + +Bathsheba really knew not what to say. + +"I've seen a good many women in my time," continued the young man in +a murmur, and more thoughtfully than hitherto, critically regarding +her bent head at the same time; "but I've never seen a woman so +beautiful as you. Take it or leave it--be offended or like it--I +don't care." + +"Who are you, then, who can so well afford to despise opinion?" + +"No stranger. Sergeant Troy. I am staying in this place.--There! +it is undone at last, you see. Your light fingers were more eager +than mine. I wish it had been the knot of knots, which there's no +untying!" + +This was worse and worse. She started up, and so did he. How to +decently get away from him--that was her difficulty now. She sidled +off inch by inch, the lantern in her hand, till she could see the +redness of his coat no longer. + +"Ah, Beauty; good-bye!" he said. + +She made no reply, and, reaching a distance of twenty or thirty +yards, turned about, and ran indoors. + +Liddy had just retired to rest. In ascending to her own chamber, +Bathsheba opened the girl's door an inch or two, and, panting, said-- + +"Liddy, is any soldier staying in the village--sergeant somebody-- +rather gentlemanly for a sergeant, and good looking--a red coat with +blue facings?" + +"No, miss ... No, I say; but really it might be Sergeant Troy home on +furlough, though I have not seen him. He was here once in that way +when the regiment was at Casterbridge." + +"Yes; that's the name. Had he a moustache--no whiskers or beard?" + +"He had." + +"What kind of a person is he?" + +"Oh! miss--I blush to name it--a gay man! But I know him to be very +quick and trim, who might have made his thousands, like a squire. +Such a clever young dandy as he is! He's a doctor's son by name, +which is a great deal; and he's an earl's son by nature!" + +"Which is a great deal more. Fancy! Is it true?" + +"Yes. And, he was brought up so well, and sent to Casterbridge +Grammar School for years and years. Learnt all languages while he +was there; and it was said he got on so far that he could take down +Chinese in shorthand; but that I don't answer for, as it was only +reported. However, he wasted his gifted lot, and listed a soldier; +but even then he rose to be a sergeant without trying at all. Ah! +such a blessing it is to be high-born; nobility of blood will shine +out even in the ranks and files. And is he really come home, miss?" + +"I believe so. Good-night, Liddy." + +After all, how could a cheerful wearer of skirts be permanently +offended with the man? There are occasions when girls like Bathsheba +will put up with a great deal of unconventional behaviour. When they +want to be praised, which is often, when they want to be mastered, +which is sometimes; and when they want no nonsense, which is seldom. +Just now the first feeling was in the ascendant with Bathsheba, +with a dash of the second. Moreover, by chance or by devilry, the +ministrant was antecedently made interesting by being a handsome +stranger who had evidently seen better days. + +So she could not clearly decide whether it was her opinion that he +had insulted her or not. + +"Was ever anything so odd!" she at last exclaimed to herself, in her +own room. "And was ever anything so meanly done as what I did--to +skulk away like that from a man who was only civil and kind!" Clearly +she did not think his barefaced praise of her person an insult now. + +It was a fatal omission of Boldwood's that he had never once told her +she was beautiful. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE DESCRIBED + + +Idiosyncrasy and vicissitude had combined to stamp Sergeant Troy as +an exceptional being. + +He was a man to whom memories were an incumbrance, and anticipations +a superfluity. Simply feeling, considering, and caring for what was +before his eyes, he was vulnerable only in the present. His outlook +upon time was as a transient flash of the eye now and then: that +projection of consciousness into days gone by and to come, which +makes the past a synonym for the pathetic and the future a word +for circumspection, was foreign to Troy. With him the past was +yesterday; the future, to-morrow; never, the day after. + +On this account he might, in certain lights, have been regarded as +one of the most fortunate of his order. For it may be argued with +great plausibility that reminiscence is less an endowment than a +disease, and that expectation in its only comfortable form--that of +absolute faith--is practically an impossibility; whilst in the form +of hope and the secondary compounds, patience, impatience, resolve, +curiosity, it is a constant fluctuation between pleasure and pain. + +Sergeant Troy, being entirely innocent of the practice of +expectation, was never disappointed. To set against this negative +gain there may have been some positive losses from a certain +narrowing of the higher tastes and sensations which it entailed. But +limitation of the capacity is never recognized as a loss by the loser +therefrom: in this attribute moral or æsthetic poverty contrasts +plausibly with material, since those who suffer do not mind it, +whilst those who mind it soon cease to suffer. It is not a denial +of anything to have been always without it, and what Troy had never +enjoyed he did not miss; but, being fully conscious that what sober +people missed he enjoyed, his capacity, though really less, seemed +greater than theirs. + +He was moderately truthful towards men, but to women lied like +a Cretan--a system of ethics above all others calculated to win +popularity at the first flush of admission into lively society; and +the possibility of the favour gained being transitory had reference +only to the future. + +He never passed the line which divides the spruce vices from the +ugly; and hence, though his morals had hardly been applauded, +disapproval of them had frequently been tempered with a smile. This +treatment had led to his becoming a sort of regrater of other men's +gallantries, to his own aggrandizement as a Corinthian, rather than +to the moral profit of his hearers. + +His reason and his propensities had seldom any reciprocating +influence, having separated by mutual consent long ago: thence it +sometimes happened that, while his intentions were as honourable as +could be wished, any particular deed formed a dark background which +threw them into fine relief. The sergeant's vicious phases being the +offspring of impulse, and his virtuous phases of cool meditation, the +latter had a modest tendency to be oftener heard of than seen. + +Troy was full of activity, but his activities were less of a +locomotive than a vegetative nature; and, never being based upon +any original choice of foundation or direction, they were exercised +on whatever object chance might place in their way. Hence, whilst +he sometimes reached the brilliant in speech because that was +spontaneous, he fell below the commonplace in action, from inability +to guide incipient effort. He had a quick comprehension and +considerable force of character; but, being without the power to +combine them, the comprehension became engaged with trivialities +whilst waiting for the will to direct it, and the force wasted itself +in useless grooves through unheeding the comprehension. + +He was a fairly well-educated man for one of middle class-- +exceptionally well educated for a common soldier. He spoke fluently +and unceasingly. He could in this way be one thing and seem another: +for instance, he could speak of love and think of dinner; call on the +husband to look at the wife; be eager to pay and intend to owe. + +The wondrous power of flattery in _passados_ at woman is a perception +so universal as to be remarked upon by many people almost as +automatically as they repeat a proverb, or say that they are +Christians and the like, without thinking much of the enormous +corollaries which spring from the proposition. Still less is it +acted upon for the good of the complemental being alluded to. +With the majority such an opinion is shelved with all those trite +aphorisms which require some catastrophe to bring their tremendous +meanings thoroughly home. When expressed with some amount of +reflectiveness it seems co-ordinate with a belief that this flattery +must be reasonable to be effective. It is to the credit of men that +few attempt to settle the question by experiment, and it is for +their happiness, perhaps, that accident has never settled it for +them. Nevertheless, that a male dissembler who by deluging her with +untenable fictions charms the female wisely, may acquire powers +reaching to the extremity of perdition, is a truth taught to many by +unsought and wringing occurrences. And some profess to have attained +to the same knowledge by experiment as aforesaid, and jauntily +continue their indulgence in such experiments with terrible effect. +Sergeant Troy was one. + +He had been known to observe casually that in dealing with womankind +the only alternative to flattery was cursing and swearing. There was +no third method. "Treat them fairly, and you are a lost man." he +would say. + +This person's public appearance in Weatherbury promptly followed his +arrival there. A week or two after the shearing, Bathsheba, feeling +a nameless relief of spirits on account of Boldwood's absence, +approached her hayfields and looked over the hedge towards the +haymakers. They consisted in about equal proportions of gnarled and +flexuous forms, the former being the men, the latter the women, who +wore tilt bonnets covered with nankeen, which hung in a curtain upon +their shoulders. Coggan and Mark Clark were mowing in a less forward +meadow, Clark humming a tune to the strokes of his scythe, to +which Jan made no attempt to keep time with his. In the first mead +they were already loading hay, the women raking it into cocks and +windrows, and the men tossing it upon the waggon. + +From behind the waggon a bright scarlet spot emerged, and went on +loading unconcernedly with the rest. It was the gallant sergeant, +who had come haymaking for pleasure; and nobody could deny that +he was doing the mistress of the farm real knight-service by this +voluntary contribution of his labour at a busy time. + +As soon as she had entered the field Troy saw her, and sticking his +pitchfork into the ground and picking up his crop or cane, he came +forward. Bathsheba blushed with half-angry embarrassment, and +adjusted her eyes as well as her feet to the direct line of her path. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +SCENE ON THE VERGE OF THE HAY-MEAD + + +"Ah, Miss Everdene!" said the sergeant, touching his diminutive cap. +"Little did I think it was you I was speaking to the other night. +And yet, if I had reflected, the 'Queen of the Corn-market' (truth is +truth at any hour of the day or night, and I heard you so named in +Casterbridge yesterday), the 'Queen of the Corn-market.' I say, could +be no other woman. I step across now to beg your forgiveness a +thousand times for having been led by my feelings to express myself +too strongly for a stranger. To be sure I am no stranger to the +place--I am Sergeant Troy, as I told you, and I have assisted your +uncle in these fields no end of times when I was a lad. I have been +doing the same for you to-day." + +"I suppose I must thank you for that, Sergeant Troy," said the Queen +of the Corn-market, in an indifferently grateful tone. + +The sergeant looked hurt and sad. "Indeed you must not, Miss +Everdene," he said. "Why could you think such a thing necessary?" + +"I am glad it is not." + +"Why? if I may ask without offence." + +"Because I don't much want to thank you for anything." + +"I am afraid I have made a hole with my tongue that my heart will +never mend. O these intolerable times: that ill-luck should follow +a man for honestly telling a woman she is beautiful! 'Twas the most +I said--you must own that; and the least I could say--that I own +myself." + +"There is some talk I could do without more easily than money." + +"Indeed. That remark is a sort of digression." + +"No. It means that I would rather have your room than your company." + +"And I would rather have curses from you than kisses from any other +woman; so I'll stay here." + +Bathsheba was absolutely speechless. And yet she could not help +feeling that the assistance he was rendering forbade a harsh repulse. + +"Well," continued Troy, "I suppose there is a praise which is +rudeness, and that may be mine. At the same time there is a +treatment which is injustice, and that may be yours. Because a plain +blunt man, who has never been taught concealment, speaks out his mind +without exactly intending it, he's to be snapped off like the son of +a sinner." + +"Indeed there's no such case between us," she said, turning away. "I +don't allow strangers to be bold and impudent--even in praise of me." + +"Ah--it is not the fact but the method which offends you," he said, +carelessly. "But I have the sad satisfaction of knowing that my +words, whether pleasing or offensive, are unmistakably true. Would +you have had me look at you, and tell my acquaintance that you are +quite a common-place woman, to save you the embarrassment of being +stared at if they come near you? Not I. I couldn't tell any such +ridiculous lie about a beauty to encourage a single woman in England +in too excessive a modesty." + +"It is all pretence--what you are saying!" exclaimed Bathsheba, +laughing in spite of herself at the sly method. "You have a rare +invention, Sergeant Troy. Why couldn't you have passed by me that +night, and said nothing?--that was all I meant to reproach you for." + +"Because I wasn't going to. Half the pleasure of a feeling lies in +being able to express it on the spur of the moment, and I let out +mine. It would have been just the same if you had been the reverse +person--ugly and old--I should have exclaimed about it in the same +way." + +"How long is it since you have been so afflicted with strong feeling, +then?" + +"Oh, ever since I was big enough to know loveliness from deformity." + +"'Tis to be hoped your sense of the difference you speak of doesn't +stop at faces, but extends to morals as well." + +"I won't speak of morals or religion--my own or anybody else's. +Though perhaps I should have been a very good Christian if you pretty +women hadn't made me an idolater." + +Bathsheba moved on to hide the irrepressible dimplings of merriment. +Troy followed, whirling his crop. + +"But--Miss Everdene--you do forgive me?" + +"Hardly." + +"Why?" + +"You say such things." + +"I said you were beautiful, and I'll say so still; for, by G---- so you +are! The most beautiful ever I saw, or may I fall dead this instant! +Why, upon my ----" + +"Don't--don't! I won't listen to you--you are so profane!" she said, +in a restless state between distress at hearing him and a _penchant_ +to hear more. + +"I again say you are a most fascinating woman. There's nothing +remarkable in my saying so, is there? I'm sure the fact is evident +enough. Miss Everdene, my opinion may be too forcibly let out +to please you, and, for the matter of that, too insignificant to +convince you, but surely it is honest, and why can't it be excused?" + +"Because it--it isn't a correct one," she femininely murmured. + +"Oh, fie--fie! Am I any worse for breaking the third of that +Terrible Ten than you for breaking the ninth?" + +"Well, it doesn't seem QUITE true to me that I am fascinating," she +replied evasively. + +"Not so to you: then I say with all respect that, if so, it is owing +to your modesty, Miss Everdene. But surely you must have been told +by everybody of what everybody notices? And you should take their +words for it." + +"They don't say so exactly." + +"Oh yes, they must!" + +"Well, I mean to my face, as you do," she went on, allowing herself +to be further lured into a conversation that intention had rigorously +forbidden. + +"But you know they think so?" + +"No--that is--I certainly have heard Liddy say they do, but--" She +paused. + +Capitulation--that was the purport of the simple reply, guarded as it +was--capitulation, unknown to herself. Never did a fragile tailless +sentence convey a more perfect meaning. The careless sergeant smiled +within himself, and probably too the devil smiled from a loop-hole in +Tophet, for the moment was the turning-point of a career. Her tone +and mien signified beyond mistake that the seed which was to lift the +foundation had taken root in the chink: the remainder was a mere +question of time and natural changes. + +"There the truth comes out!" said the soldier, in reply. "Never tell +me that a young lady can live in a buzz of admiration without knowing +something about it. Ah, well, Miss Everdene, you are--pardon my +blunt way--you are rather an injury to our race than otherwise." + +"How--indeed?" she said, opening her eyes. + +"Oh, it is true enough. I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb +(an old country saying, not of much account, but it will do for a +rough soldier), and so I will speak my mind, regardless of your +pleasure, and without hoping or intending to get your pardon. Why, +Miss Everdene, it is in this manner that your good looks may do more +harm than good in the world." The sergeant looked down the mead in +critical abstraction. "Probably some one man on an average falls in +love with each ordinary woman. She can marry him: he is content, +and leads a useful life. Such women as you a hundred men always +covet--your eyes will bewitch scores on scores into an unavailing +fancy for you--you can only marry one of that many. Out of these +say twenty will endeavour to drown the bitterness of despised love +in drink; twenty more will mope away their lives without a wish or +attempt to make a mark in the world, because they have no ambition +apart from their attachment to you; twenty more--the susceptible +person myself possibly among them--will be always draggling after +you, getting where they may just see you, doing desperate things. +Men are such constant fools! The rest may try to get over their +passion with more or less success. But all these men will be +saddened. And not only those ninety-nine men, but the ninety-nine +women they might have married are saddened with them. There's my +tale. That's why I say that a woman so charming as yourself, Miss +Everdene, is hardly a blessing to her race." + +The handsome sergeant's features were during this speech as rigid and +stern as John Knox's in addressing his gay young queen. + +Seeing she made no reply, he said, "Do you read French?" + +"No; I began, but when I got to the verbs, father died," she said +simply. + +"I do--when I have an opportunity, which latterly has not been often +(my mother was a Parisienne)--and there's a proverb they have, +_Qui aime bien, châtie bien_--'He chastens who loves well.' Do you +understand me?" + +"Ah!" she replied, and there was even a little tremulousness in the +usually cool girl's voice; "if you can only fight half as winningly +as you can talk, you are able to make a pleasure of a bayonet wound!" +And then poor Bathsheba instantly perceived her slip in making this +admission: in hastily trying to retrieve it, she went from bad to +worse. "Don't, however, suppose that _I_ derive any pleasure from +what you tell me." + +"I know you do not--I know it perfectly," said Troy, with much hearty +conviction on the exterior of his face: and altering the expression +to moodiness; "when a dozen men are ready to speak tenderly to you, +and give the admiration you deserve without adding the warning you +need, it stands to reason that my poor rough-and-ready mixture of +praise and blame cannot convey much pleasure. Fool as I may be, I +am not so conceited as to suppose that!" + +"I think you--are conceited, nevertheless," said Bathsheba, looking +askance at a reed she was fitfully pulling with one hand, having +lately grown feverish under the soldier's system of procedure--not +because the nature of his cajolery was entirely unperceived, but +because its vigour was overwhelming. + +"I would not own it to anybody else--nor do I exactly to you. Still, +there might have been some self-conceit in my foolish supposition +the other night. I knew that what I said in admiration might be +an opinion too often forced upon you to give any pleasure, but I +certainly did think that the kindness of your nature might prevent +you judging an uncontrolled tongue harshly--which you have done--and +thinking badly of me and wounding me this morning, when I am working +hard to save your hay." + +"Well, you need not think more of that: perhaps you did not mean to +be rude to me by speaking out your mind: indeed, I believe you did +not," said the shrewd woman, in painfully innocent earnest. "And I +thank you for giving help here. But--but mind you don't speak to me +again in that way, or in any other, unless I speak to you." + +"Oh, Miss Bathsheba! That is too hard!" + +"No, it isn't. Why is it?" + +"You will never speak to me; for I shall not be here long. I am soon +going back again to the miserable monotony of drill--and perhaps +our regiment will be ordered out soon. And yet you take away the +one little ewe-lamb of pleasure that I have in this dull life +of mine. Well, perhaps generosity is not a woman's most marked +characteristic." + +"When are you going from here?" she asked, with some interest. + +"In a month." + +"But how can it give you pleasure to speak to me?" + +"Can you ask Miss Everdene--knowing as you do--what my offence is +based on?" + +"If you do care so much for a silly trifle of that kind, then, I +don't mind doing it," she uncertainly and doubtingly answered. "But +you can't really care for a word from me? you only say so--I think +you only say so." + +"That's unjust--but I won't repeat the remark. I am too gratified to +get such a mark of your friendship at any price to cavil at the tone. +I DO, Miss Everdene, care for it. You may think a man foolish to +want a mere word--just a good morning. Perhaps he is--I don't know. +But you have never been a man looking upon a woman, and that woman +yourself." + +"Well." + +"Then you know nothing of what such an experience is like--and Heaven +forbid that you ever should!" + +"Nonsense, flatterer! What is it like? I am interested in knowing." + +"Put shortly, it is not being able to think, hear, or look in +any direction except one without wretchedness, nor there without +torture." + +"Ah, sergeant, it won't do--you are pretending!" she said, shaking +her head. "Your words are too dashing to be true." + +"I am not, upon the honour of a soldier." + +"But WHY is it so?--Of course I ask for mere pastime." + +"Because you are so distracting--and I am so distracted." + +"You look like it." + +"I am indeed." + +"Why, you only saw me the other night!" + +"That makes no difference. The lightning works instantaneously. I +loved you then, at once--as I do now." + +Bathsheba surveyed him curiously, from the feet upward, as high as +she liked to venture her glance, which was not quite so high as his +eyes. + +"You cannot and you don't," she said demurely. "There is no such +sudden feeling in people. I won't listen to you any longer. Hear +me, I wish I knew what o'clock it is--I am going--I have wasted too +much time here already!" + +The sergeant looked at his watch and told her. "What, haven't you a +watch, miss?" he inquired. + +"I have not just at present--I am about to get a new one." + +"No. You shall be given one. Yes--you shall. A gift, Miss +Everdene--a gift." + +And before she knew what the young man was intending, a heavy gold +watch was in her hand. + +"It is an unusually good one for a man like me to possess," he +quietly said. "That watch has a history. Press the spring and open +the back." + +She did so. + +"What do you see?" + +"A crest and a motto." + +"A coronet with five points, and beneath, _Cedit amor rebus_--'Love +yields to circumstance.' It's the motto of the Earls of Severn. +That watch belonged to the last lord, and was given to my mother's +husband, a medical man, for his use till I came of age, when it was +to be given to me. It was all the fortune that ever I inherited. +That watch has regulated imperial interests in its time--the stately +ceremonial, the courtly assignation, pompous travels, and lordly +sleeps. Now it is yours." + +"But, Sergeant Troy, I cannot take this--I cannot!" she exclaimed, +with round-eyed wonder. "A gold watch! What are you doing? Don't +be such a dissembler!" + +The sergeant retreated to avoid receiving back his gift, which she +held out persistently towards him. Bathsheba followed as he retired. + +"Keep it--do, Miss Everdene--keep it!" said the erratic child of +impulse. "The fact of your possessing it makes it worth ten times +as much to me. A more plebeian one will answer my purpose just +as well, and the pleasure of knowing whose heart my old one beats +against--well, I won't speak of that. It is in far worthier hands +than ever it has been in before." + +"But indeed I can't have it!" she said, in a perfect simmer of +distress. "Oh, how can you do such a thing; that is if you really +mean it! Give me your dead father's watch, and such a valuable one! +You should not be so reckless, indeed, Sergeant Troy!" + +"I loved my father: good; but better, I love you more. That's how I +can do it," said the sergeant, with an intonation of such exquisite +fidelity to nature that it was evidently not all acted now. Her +beauty, which, whilst it had been quiescent, he had praised in jest, +had in its animated phases moved him to earnest; and though his +seriousness was less than she imagined, it was probably more than he +imagined himself. + +Bathsheba was brimming with agitated bewilderment, and she said, in +half-suspicious accents of feeling, "Can it be! Oh, how can it be, +that you care for me, and so suddenly! You have seen so little +of me: I may not be really so--so nice-looking as I seem to you. +Please, do take it; Oh, do! I cannot and will not have it. Believe +me, your generosity is too great. I have never done you a single +kindness, and why should you be so kind to me?" + +A factitious reply had been again upon his lips, but it was again +suspended, and he looked at her with an arrested eye. The truth was, +that as she now stood--excited, wild, and honest as the day--her +alluring beauty bore out so fully the epithets he had bestowed upon +it that he was quite startled at his temerity in advancing them as +false. He said mechanically, "Ah, why?" and continued to look at +her. + +"And my workfolk see me following you about the field, and are +wondering. Oh, this is dreadful!" she went on, unconscious of the +transmutation she was effecting. + +"I did not quite mean you to accept it at first, for it was my one +poor patent of nobility," he broke out, bluntly; "but, upon my soul, +I wish you would now. Without any shamming, come! Don't deny me the +happiness of wearing it for my sake? But you are too lovely even to +care to be kind as others are." + +"No, no; don't say so! I have reasons for reserve which I cannot +explain." + +"Let it be, then, let it be," he said, receiving back the watch at +last; "I must be leaving you now. And will you speak to me for these +few weeks of my stay?" + +"Indeed I will. Yet, I don't know if I will! Oh, why did you come +and disturb me so!" + +"Perhaps in setting a gin, I have caught myself. Such things have +happened. Well, will you let me work in your fields?" he coaxed. + +"Yes, I suppose so; if it is any pleasure to you." + +"Miss Everdene, I thank you." + +"No, no." + +"Good-bye!" + +The sergeant brought his hand to the cap on the slope of his head, +saluted, and returned to the distant group of haymakers. + +Bathsheba could not face the haymakers now. Her heart erratically +flitting hither and thither from perplexed excitement, hot, and +almost tearful, she retreated homeward, murmuring, "Oh, what have I +done! What does it mean! I wish I knew how much of it was true!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +HIVING THE BEES + + +The Weatherbury bees were late in their swarming this year. It was in +the latter part of June, and the day after the interview with Troy in +the hayfield, that Bathsheba was standing in her garden, watching a +swarm in the air and guessing their probable settling place. Not +only were they late this year, but unruly. Sometimes throughout a +whole season all the swarms would alight on the lowest attainable +bough--such as part of a currant-bush or espalier apple-tree; next +year they would, with just the same unanimity, make straight off to +the uppermost member of some tall, gaunt costard, or quarrenden, +and there defy all invaders who did not come armed with ladders and +staves to take them. + +This was the case at present. Bathsheba's eyes, shaded by one hand, +were following the ascending multitude against the unexplorable +stretch of blue till they ultimately halted by one of the unwieldy +trees spoken of. A process somewhat analogous to that of alleged +formations of the universe, time and times ago, was observable. The +bustling swarm had swept the sky in a scattered and uniform haze, +which now thickened to a nebulous centre: this glided on to a bough +and grew still denser, till it formed a solid black spot upon the +light. + +The men and women being all busily engaged in saving the hay--even +Liddy had left the house for the purpose of lending a hand--Bathsheba +resolved to hive the bees herself, if possible. She had dressed the +hive with herbs and honey, fetched a ladder, brush, and crook, made +herself impregnable with armour of leather gloves, straw hat, and +large gauze veil--once green but now faded to snuff colour--and +ascended a dozen rungs of the ladder. At once she heard, not ten +yards off, a voice that was beginning to have a strange power in +agitating her. + +"Miss Everdene, let me assist you; you should not attempt such a +thing alone." + +Troy was just opening the garden gate. + +Bathsheba flung down the brush, crook, and empty hive, pulled the +skirt of her dress tightly round her ankles in a tremendous flurry, +and as well as she could slid down the ladder. By the time she +reached the bottom Troy was there also, and he stooped to pick up +the hive. + +"How fortunate I am to have dropped in at this moment!" exclaimed the +sergeant. + +She found her voice in a minute. "What! and will you shake them in +for me?" she asked, in what, for a defiant girl, was a faltering way; +though, for a timid girl, it would have seemed a brave way enough. + +"Will I!" said Troy. "Why, of course I will. How blooming you are +to-day!" Troy flung down his cane and put his foot on the ladder to +ascend. + +"But you must have on the veil and gloves, or you'll be stung +fearfully!" + +"Ah, yes. I must put on the veil and gloves. Will you kindly show +me how to fix them properly?" + +"And you must have the broad-brimmed hat, too, for your cap has no +brim to keep the veil off, and they'd reach your face." + +"The broad-brimmed hat, too, by all means." + +So a whimsical fate ordered that her hat should be taken off--veil +and all attached--and placed upon his head, Troy tossing his own into +a gooseberry bush. Then the veil had to be tied at its lower edge +round his collar and the gloves put on him. + +He looked such an extraordinary object in this guise that, flurried +as she was, she could not avoid laughing outright. It was the removal +of yet another stake from the palisade of cold manners which had kept +him off. + +Bathsheba looked on from the ground whilst he was busy sweeping and +shaking the bees from the tree, holding up the hive with the other +hand for them to fall into. She made use of an unobserved minute +whilst his attention was absorbed in the operation to arrange her +plumes a little. He came down holding the hive at arm's length, +behind which trailed a cloud of bees. + +"Upon my life," said Troy, through the veil, "holding up this hive +makes one's arm ache worse than a week of sword-exercise." When the +manoeuvre was complete he approached her. "Would you be good enough +to untie me and let me out? I am nearly stifled inside this silk +cage." + +To hide her embarrassment during the unwonted process of untying the +string about his neck, she said:-- + +"I have never seen that you spoke of." + +"What?" + +"The sword-exercise." + +"Ah! would you like to?" said Troy. + +Bathsheba hesitated. She had heard wondrous reports from time to +time by dwellers in Weatherbury, who had by chance sojourned awhile +in Casterbridge, near the barracks, of this strange and glorious +performance, the sword-exercise. Men and boys who had peeped through +chinks or over walls into the barrack-yard returned with accounts of +its being the most flashing affair conceivable; accoutrements and +weapons glistening like stars--here, there, around--yet all by rule +and compass. So she said mildly what she felt strongly. + +"Yes; I should like to see it very much." + +"And so you shall; you shall see me go through it." + +"No! How?" + +"Let me consider." + +"Not with a walking-stick--I don't care to see that. It must be a +real sword." + +"Yes, I know; and I have no sword here; but I think I could get one +by the evening. Now, will you do this?" + +Troy bent over her and murmured some suggestion in a low voice. + +"Oh no, indeed!" said Bathsheba, blushing. "Thank you very much, but +I couldn't on any account." + +"Surely you might? Nobody would know." + +She shook her head, but with a weakened negation. "If I were to," +she said, "I must bring Liddy too. Might I not?" + +Troy looked far away. "I don't see why you want to bring her," he +said coldly. + +An unconscious look of assent in Bathsheba's eyes betrayed that +something more than his coldness had made her also feel that Liddy +would be superfluous in the suggested scene. She had felt it, even +whilst making the proposal. + +"Well, I won't bring Liddy--and I'll come. But only for a very short +time," she added; "a very short time." + +"It will not take five minutes," said Troy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +THE HOLLOW AMID THE FERNS + + +The hill opposite Bathsheba's dwelling extended, a mile off, into an +uncultivated tract of land, dotted at this season with tall thickets +of brake fern, plump and diaphanous from recent rapid growth, and +radiant in hues of clear and untainted green. + +At eight o'clock this midsummer evening, whilst the bristling ball +of gold in the west still swept the tips of the ferns with its long, +luxuriant rays, a soft brushing-by of garments might have been heard +among them, and Bathsheba appeared in their midst, their soft, +feathery arms caressing her up to her shoulders. She paused, turned, +went back over the hill and half-way to her own door, whence she cast +a farewell glance upon the spot she had just left, having resolved +not to remain near the place after all. + +She saw a dim spot of artificial red moving round the shoulder of the +rise. It disappeared on the other side. + +She waited one minute--two minutes--thought of Troy's disappointment +at her non-fulfilment of a promised engagement, till she again ran +along the field, clambered over the bank, and followed the original +direction. She was now literally trembling and panting at this her +temerity in such an errant undertaking; her breath came and went +quickly, and her eyes shone with an infrequent light. Yet go she +must. She reached the verge of a pit in the middle of the ferns. +Troy stood in the bottom, looking up towards her. + +"I heard you rustling through the fern before I saw you," he said, +coming up and giving her his hand to help her down the slope. + +The pit was a saucer-shaped concave, naturally formed, with a top +diameter of about thirty feet, and shallow enough to allow the +sunshine to reach their heads. Standing in the centre, the sky +overhead was met by a circular horizon of fern: this grew nearly to +the bottom of the slope and then abruptly ceased. The middle within +the belt of verdure was floored with a thick flossy carpet of moss +and grass intermingled, so yielding that the foot was half-buried +within it. + +"Now," said Troy, producing the sword, which, as he raised it into +the sunlight, gleamed a sort of greeting, like a living thing, +"first, we have four right and four left cuts; four right and four +left thrusts. Infantry cuts and guards are more interesting than +ours, to my mind; but they are not so swashing. They have seven +cuts and three thrusts. So much as a preliminary. Well, next, our +cut one is as if you were sowing your corn--so." Bathsheba saw a +sort of rainbow, upside down in the air, and Troy's arm was still +again. "Cut two, as if you were hedging--so. Three, as if you were +reaping--so. Four, as if you were threshing--in that way. Then the +same on the left. The thrusts are these: one, two, three, four, +right; one, two, three, four, left." He repeated them. "Have 'em +again?" he said. "One, two--" + +She hurriedly interrupted: "I'd rather not; though I don't mind your +twos and fours; but your ones and threes are terrible!" + +"Very well. I'll let you off the ones and threes. Next, cuts, +points and guards altogether." Troy duly exhibited them. "Then +there's pursuing practice, in this way." He gave the movements as +before. "There, those are the stereotyped forms. The infantry have +two most diabolical upward cuts, which we are too humane to use. +Like this--three, four." + +"How murderous and bloodthirsty!" + +"They are rather deathly. Now I'll be more interesting, and let you +see some loose play--giving all the cuts and points, infantry and +cavalry, quicker than lightning, and as promiscuously--with just +enough rule to regulate instinct and yet not to fetter it. You are +my antagonist, with this difference from real warfare, that I shall +miss you every time by one hair's breadth, or perhaps two. Mind you +don't flinch, whatever you do." + +"I'll be sure not to!" she said invincibly. + +He pointed to about a yard in front of him. + +Bathsheba's adventurous spirit was beginning to find some grains of +relish in these highly novel proceedings. She took up her position +as directed, facing Troy. + +"Now just to learn whether you have pluck enough to let me do what I +wish, I'll give you a preliminary test." + +He flourished the sword by way of introduction number two, and the +next thing of which she was conscious was that the point and blade of +the sword were darting with a gleam towards her left side, just above +her hip; then of their reappearance on her right side, emerging as +it were from between her ribs, having apparently passed through her +body. The third item of consciousness was that of seeing the same +sword, perfectly clean and free from blood held vertically in Troy's +hand (in the position technically called "recover swords"). All was +as quick as electricity. + +"Oh!" she cried out in affright, pressing her hand to her side. "Have +you run me through?--no, you have not! Whatever have you done!" + +"I have not touched you," said Troy, quietly. "It was mere sleight +of hand. The sword passed behind you. Now you are not afraid, are +you? Because if you are I can't perform. I give my word that I will +not only not hurt you, but not once touch you." + +"I don't think I am afraid. You are quite sure you will not hurt +me?" + +"Quite sure." + +"Is the sword very sharp?" + +"O no--only stand as still as a statue. Now!" + +In an instant the atmosphere was transformed to Bathsheba's eyes. +Beams of light caught from the low sun's rays, above, around, in +front of her, well-nigh shut out earth and heaven--all emitted in +the marvellous evolutions of Troy's reflecting blade, which seemed +everywhere at once, and yet nowhere specially. These circling gleams +were accompanied by a keen rush that was almost a whistling--also +springing from all sides of her at once. In short, she was enclosed +in a firmament of light, and of sharp hisses, resembling a sky-full +of meteors close at hand. + +Never since the broadsword became the national weapon had there been +more dexterity shown in its management than by the hands of Sergeant +Troy, and never had he been in such splendid temper for the +performance as now in the evening sunshine among the ferns with +Bathsheba. It may safely be asserted with respect to the closeness +of his cuts, that had it been possible for the edge of the sword to +leave in the air a permanent substance wherever it flew past, the +space left untouched would have been almost a mould of Bathsheba's +figure. + +Behind the luminous streams of this _aurora militaris_, she could see +the hue of Troy's sword arm, spread in a scarlet haze over the space +covered by its motions, like a twanged harpstring, and behind all +Troy himself, mostly facing her; sometimes, to show the rear cuts, +half turned away, his eye nevertheless always keenly measuring +her breadth and outline, and his lips tightly closed in sustained +effort. Next, his movements lapsed slower, and she could see them +individually. The hissing of the sword had ceased, and he stopped +entirely. + +"That outer loose lock of hair wants tidying," he said, before she +had moved or spoken. "Wait: I'll do it for you." + +An arc of silver shone on her right side: the sword had descended. +The lock dropped to the ground. + +"Bravely borne!" said Troy. "You didn't flinch a shade's thickness. +Wonderful in a woman!" + +"It was because I didn't expect it. Oh, you have spoilt my hair!" + +"Only once more." + +"No--no! I am afraid of you--indeed I am!" she cried. + +"I won't touch you at all--not even your hair. I am only going to +kill that caterpillar settling on you. Now: still!" + +It appeared that a caterpillar had come from the fern and chosen the +front of her bodice as his resting place. She saw the point glisten +towards her bosom, and seemingly enter it. Bathsheba closed her eyes +in the full persuasion that she was killed at last. However, feeling +just as usual, she opened them again. + +"There it is, look," said the sergeant, holding his sword before her +eyes. + +The caterpillar was spitted upon its point. + +"Why, it is magic!" said Bathsheba, amazed. + +"Oh no--dexterity. I merely gave point to your bosom where the +caterpillar was, and instead of running you through checked the +extension a thousandth of an inch short of your surface." + +"But how could you chop off a curl of my hair with a sword that has +no edge?" + +"No edge! This sword will shave like a razor. Look here." + +He touched the palm of his hand with the blade, and then, lifting it, +showed her a thin shaving of scarf-skin dangling therefrom. + +"But you said before beginning that it was blunt and couldn't cut +me!" + +"That was to get you to stand still, and so make sure of your safety. +The risk of injuring you through your moving was too great not to +force me to tell you a fib to escape it." + +She shuddered. "I have been within an inch of my life, and didn't +know it!" + +"More precisely speaking, you have been within half an inch of being +pared alive two hundred and ninety-five times." + +"Cruel, cruel, 'tis of you!" + +"You have been perfectly safe, nevertheless. My sword never errs." +And Troy returned the weapon to the scabbard. + +Bathsheba, overcome by a hundred tumultuous feelings resulting from +the scene, abstractedly sat down on a tuft of heather. + +"I must leave you now," said Troy, softly. "And I'll venture to take +and keep this in remembrance of you." + +She saw him stoop to the grass, pick up the winding lock which he +had severed from her manifold tresses, twist it round his fingers, +unfasten a button in the breast of his coat, and carefully put +it inside. She felt powerless to withstand or deny him. He was +altogether too much for her, and Bathsheba seemed as one who, facing +a reviving wind, finds it blow so strongly that it stops the breath. +He drew near and said, "I must be leaving you." + +He drew nearer still. A minute later and she saw his scarlet form +disappear amid the ferny thicket, almost in a flash, like a brand +swiftly waved. + +That minute's interval had brought the blood beating into her face, +set her stinging as if aflame to the very hollows of her feet, and +enlarged emotion to a compass which quite swamped thought. It had +brought upon her a stroke resulting, as did that of Moses in Horeb, +in a liquid stream--here a stream of tears. She felt like one who +has sinned a great sin. + +The circumstance had been the gentle dip of Troy's mouth downwards +upon her own. He had kissed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +PARTICULARS OF A TWILIGHT WALK + + +We now see the element of folly distinctly mingling with the many +varying particulars which made up the character of Bathsheba +Everdene. It was almost foreign to her intrinsic nature. Introduced +as lymph on the dart of Eros, it eventually permeated and coloured +her whole constitution. Bathsheba, though she had too much +understanding to be entirely governed by her womanliness, had too +much womanliness to use her understanding to the best advantage. +Perhaps in no minor point does woman astonish her helpmate more than +in the strange power she possesses of believing cajoleries that she +knows to be false--except, indeed, in that of being utterly sceptical +on strictures that she knows to be true. + +Bathsheba loved Troy in the way that only self-reliant women +love when they abandon their self-reliance. When a strong woman +recklessly throws away her strength she is worse than a weak woman +who has never had any strength to throw away. One source of her +inadequacy is the novelty of the occasion. She has never had practice +in making the best of such a condition. Weakness is doubly weak by +being new. + +Bathsheba was not conscious of guile in this matter. Though in one +sense a woman of the world, it was, after all, that world of daylight +coteries and green carpets wherein cattle form the passing crowd and +winds the busy hum; where a quiet family of rabbits or hares lives on +the other side of your party-wall, where your neighbour is everybody +in the tything, and where calculation is confined to market-days. +Of the fabricated tastes of good fashionable society she knew but +little, and of the formulated self-indulgence of bad, nothing at all. +Had her utmost thoughts in this direction been distinctly worded (and +by herself they never were), they would only have amounted to such a +matter as that she felt her impulses to be pleasanter guides than her +discretion. Her love was entire as a child's, and though warm as +summer it was fresh as spring. Her culpability lay in her making +no attempt to control feeling by subtle and careful inquiry into +consequences. She could show others the steep and thorny way, but +"reck'd not her own rede." + +And Troy's deformities lay deep down from a woman's vision, whilst +his embellishments were upon the very surface; thus contrasting with +homely Oak, whose defects were patent to the blindest, and whose +virtues were as metals in a mine. + +The difference between love and respect was markedly shown in her +conduct. Bathsheba had spoken of her interest in Boldwood with the +greatest freedom to Liddy, but she had only communed with her own +heart concerning Troy. + +All this infatuation Gabriel saw, and was troubled thereby from the +time of his daily journey a-field to the time of his return, and on +to the small hours of many a night. That he was not beloved had +hitherto been his great sorrow; that Bathsheba was getting into +the toils was now a sorrow greater than the first, and one which +nearly obscured it. It was a result which paralleled the oft-quoted +observation of Hippocrates concerning physical pains. + +That is a noble though perhaps an unpromising love which not even the +fear of breeding aversion in the bosom of the one beloved can deter +from combating his or her errors. Oak determined to speak to his +mistress. He would base his appeal on what he considered her unfair +treatment of Farmer Boldwood, now absent from home. + +An opportunity occurred one evening when she had gone for a short +walk by a path through the neighbouring cornfields. It was dusk when +Oak, who had not been far a-field that day, took the same path and +met her returning, quite pensively, as he thought. + +The wheat was now tall, and the path was narrow; thus the way was +quite a sunken groove between the embowing thicket on either side. +Two persons could not walk abreast without damaging the crop, and +Oak stood aside to let her pass. + +"Oh, is it Gabriel?" she said. "You are taking a walk too. +Good-night." + +"I thought I would come to meet you, as it is rather late," said Oak, +turning and following at her heels when she had brushed somewhat +quickly by him. + +"Thank you, indeed, but I am not very fearful." + +"Oh no; but there are bad characters about." + +"I never meet them." + +Now Oak, with marvellous ingenuity, had been going to introduce the +gallant sergeant through the channel of "bad characters." But all at +once the scheme broke down, it suddenly occurring to him that this +was rather a clumsy way, and too barefaced to begin with. He tried +another preamble. + +"And as the man who would naturally come to meet you is away from +home, too--I mean Farmer Boldwood--why, thinks I, I'll go," he said. + +"Ah, yes." She walked on without turning her head, and for many +steps nothing further was heard from her quarter than the rustle +of her dress against the heavy corn-ears. Then she resumed rather +tartly-- + +"I don't quite understand what you meant by saying that Mr. Boldwood +would naturally come to meet me." + +"I meant on account of the wedding which they say is likely to take +place between you and him, miss. Forgive my speaking plainly." + +"They say what is not true." she returned quickly. "No marriage is +likely to take place between us." + +Gabriel now put forth his unobscured opinion, for the moment had +come. "Well, Miss Everdene," he said, "putting aside what people +say, I never in my life saw any courting if his is not a courting +of you." + +Bathsheba would probably have terminated the conversation there and +then by flatly forbidding the subject, had not her conscious weakness +of position allured her to palter and argue in endeavours to better +it. + +"Since this subject has been mentioned," she said very emphatically, +"I am glad of the opportunity of clearing up a mistake which is very +common and very provoking. I didn't definitely promise Mr. Boldwood +anything. I have never cared for him. I respect him, and he has +urged me to marry him. But I have given him no distinct answer. +As soon as he returns I shall do so; and the answer will be that I +cannot think of marrying him." + +"People are full of mistakes, seemingly." + +"They are." + +"The other day they said you were trifling with him, and you almost +proved that you were not; lately they have said that you be not, and +you straightway begin to show--" + +"That I am, I suppose you mean." + +"Well, I hope they speak the truth." + +"They do, but wrongly applied. I don't trifle with him; but then, I +have nothing to do with him." + +Oak was unfortunately led on to speak of Boldwood's rival in a wrong +tone to her after all. "I wish you had never met that young Sergeant +Troy, miss," he sighed. + +Bathsheba's steps became faintly spasmodic. "Why?" she asked. + +"He is not good enough for 'ee." + +"Did any one tell you to speak to me like this?" + +"Nobody at all." + +"Then it appears to me that Sergeant Troy does not concern us here," +she said, intractably. "Yet I must say that Sergeant Troy is an +educated man, and quite worthy of any woman. He is well born." + +"His being higher in learning and birth than the ruck o' soldiers +is anything but a proof of his worth. It show's his course to be +down'ard." + +"I cannot see what this has to do with our conversation. Mr. Troy's +course is not by any means downward; and his superiority IS a proof +of his worth!" + +"I believe him to have no conscience at all. And I cannot help +begging you, miss, to have nothing to do with him. Listen to me this +once--only this once! I don't say he's such a bad man as I have +fancied--I pray to God he is not. But since we don't exactly know +what he is, why not behave as if he MIGHT be bad, simply for your own +safety? Don't trust him, mistress; I ask you not to trust him so." + +"Why, pray?" + +"I like soldiers, but this one I do not like," he said, sturdily. +"His cleverness in his calling may have tempted him astray, and what +is mirth to the neighbours is ruin to the woman. When he tries to +talk to 'ee again, why not turn away with a short 'Good day'; and +when you see him coming one way, turn the other. When he says +anything laughable, fail to see the point and don't smile, and speak +of him before those who will report your talk as 'that fantastical +man,' or 'that Sergeant What's-his-name.' 'That man of a family +that has come to the dogs.' Don't be unmannerly towards en, but +harmless-uncivil, and so get rid of the man." + +No Christmas robin detained by a window-pane ever pulsed as did +Bathsheba now. + +"I say--I say again--that it doesn't become you to talk about +him. Why he should be mentioned passes me quite!" she exclaimed +desperately. "I know this, th-th-that he is a thoroughly +conscientious man--blunt sometimes even to rudeness--but always +speaking his mind about you plain to your face!" + +"Oh." + +"He is as good as anybody in this parish! He is very particular, +too, about going to church--yes, he is!" + +"I am afeard nobody saw him there. I never did, certainly." + +"The reason of that is," she said eagerly, "that he goes in privately +by the old tower door, just when the service commences, and sits at +the back of the gallery. He told me so." + +This supreme instance of Troy's goodness fell upon Gabriel ears like +the thirteenth stroke of crazy clock. It was not only received with +utter incredulity as regarded itself, but threw a doubt on all the +assurances that had preceded it. + +Oak was grieved to find how entirely she trusted him. He brimmed +with deep feeling as he replied in a steady voice, the steadiness of +which was spoilt by the palpableness of his great effort to keep it +so:-- + +"You know, mistress, that I love you, and shall love you always. +I only mention this to bring to your mind that at any rate I would +wish to do you no harm: beyond that I put it aside. I have lost in +the race for money and good things, and I am not such a fool as to +pretend to 'ee now I am poor, and you have got altogether above me. +But Bathsheba, dear mistress, this I beg you to consider--that, both +to keep yourself well honoured among the workfolk, and in common +generosity to an honourable man who loves you as well as I, you +should be more discreet in your bearing towards this soldier." + +"Don't, don't, don't!" she exclaimed, in a choking voice. + +"Are ye not more to me than my own affairs, and even life!" he went +on. "Come, listen to me! I am six years older than you, and Mr. +Boldwood is ten years older than I, and consider--I do beg of 'ee to +consider before it is too late--how safe you would be in his hands!" + +Oak's allusion to his own love for her lessened, to some extent, her +anger at his interference; but she could not really forgive him for +letting his wish to marry her be eclipsed by his wish to do her good, +any more than for his slighting treatment of Troy. + +"I wish you to go elsewhere," she commanded, a paleness of face +invisible to the eye being suggested by the trembling words. "Do not +remain on this farm any longer. I don't want you--I beg you to go!" + +"That's nonsense," said Oak, calmly. "This is the second time you +have pretended to dismiss me; and what's the use o' it?" + +"Pretended! You shall go, sir--your lecturing I will not hear! I am +mistress here." + +"Go, indeed--what folly will you say next? Treating me like Dick, +Tom and Harry when you know that a short time ago my position was as +good as yours! Upon my life, Bathsheba, it is too barefaced. You +know, too, that I can't go without putting things in such a strait as +you wouldn't get out of I can't tell when. Unless, indeed, you'll +promise to have an understanding man as bailiff, or manager, or +something. I'll go at once if you'll promise that." + +"I shall have no bailiff; I shall continue to be my own manager," she +said decisively. + +"Very well, then; you should be thankful to me for biding. How would +the farm go on with nobody to mind it but a woman? But mind this, I +don't wish 'ee to feel you owe me anything. Not I. What I do, I do. +Sometimes I say I should be as glad as a bird to leave the place--for +don't suppose I'm content to be a nobody. I was made for better +things. However, I don't like to see your concerns going to ruin, as +they must if you keep in this mind.... I hate taking my own measure +so plain, but, upon my life, your provoking ways make a man say +what he wouldn't dream of at other times! I own to being rather +interfering. But you know well enough how it is, and who she is that +I like too well, and feel too much like a fool about to be civil to +her!" + +It is more than probable that she privately and unconsciously +respected him a little for this grim fidelity, which had been shown +in his tone even more than in his words. At any rate she murmured +something to the effect that he might stay if he wished. She said +more distinctly, "Will you leave me alone now? I don't order it +as a mistress--I ask it as a woman, and I expect you not to be so +uncourteous as to refuse." + +"Certainly I will, Miss Everdene," said Gabriel, gently. He wondered +that the request should have come at this moment, for the strife was +over, and they were on a most desolate hill, far from every human +habitation, and the hour was getting late. He stood still and +allowed her to get far ahead of him till he could only see her form +upon the sky. + +A distressing explanation of this anxiety to be rid of him at that +point now ensued. A figure apparently rose from the earth beside +her. The shape beyond all doubt was Troy's. Oak would not be even +a possible listener, and at once turned back till a good two hundred +yards were between the lovers and himself. + +Gabriel went home by way of the churchyard. In passing the tower +he thought of what she had said about the sergeant's virtuous habit +of entering the church unperceived at the beginning of service. +Believing that the little gallery door alluded to was quite disused, +he ascended the external flight of steps at the top of which +it stood, and examined it. The pale lustre yet hanging in the +north-western heaven was sufficient to show that a sprig of ivy had +grown from the wall across the door to a length of more than a foot, +delicately tying the panel to the stone jamb. It was a decisive +proof that the door had not been opened at least since Troy came back +to Weatherbury. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +HOT CHEEKS AND TEARFUL EYES + + +Half an hour later Bathsheba entered her own house. There burnt +upon her face when she met the light of the candles the flush and +excitement which were little less than chronic with her now. The +farewell words of Troy, who had accompanied her to the very door, +still lingered in her ears. He had bidden her adieu for two days, +which were, so he stated, to be spent at Bath in visiting some +friends. He had also kissed her a second time. + +It is only fair to Bathsheba to explain here a little fact which +did not come to light till a long time afterwards: that Troy's +presentation of himself so aptly at the roadside this evening was +not by any distinctly preconcerted arrangement. He had hinted--she +had forbidden; and it was only on the chance of his still coming +that she had dismissed Oak, fearing a meeting between them just +then. + +She now sank down into a chair, wild and perturbed by all these +new and fevering sequences. Then she jumped up with a manner of +decision, and fetched her desk from a side table. + +In three minutes, without pause or modification, she had written a +letter to Boldwood, at his address beyond Casterbridge, saying mildly +but firmly that she had well considered the whole subject he had +brought before her and kindly given her time to decide upon; that +her final decision was that she could not marry him. She had +expressed to Oak an intention to wait till Boldwood came home before +communicating to him her conclusive reply. But Bathsheba found that +she could not wait. + +It was impossible to send this letter till the next day; yet to quell +her uneasiness by getting it out of her hands, and so, as it were, +setting the act in motion at once, she arose to take it to any one of +the women who might be in the kitchen. + +She paused in the passage. A dialogue was going on in the kitchen, +and Bathsheba and Troy were the subject of it. + +"If he marry her, she'll gie up farming." + +"'Twill be a gallant life, but may bring some trouble between the +mirth--so say I." + +"Well, I wish I had half such a husband." + +Bathsheba had too much sense to mind seriously what her servitors +said about her; but too much womanly redundance of speech to leave +alone what was said till it died the natural death of unminded +things. She burst in upon them. + +"Who are you speaking of?" she asked. + +There was a pause before anybody replied. At last Liddy said +frankly, "What was passing was a bit of a word about yourself, miss." + +"I thought so! Maryann and Liddy and Temperance--now I forbid you +to suppose such things. You know I don't care the least for Mr. +Troy--not I. Everybody knows how much I hate him.--Yes," repeated +the froward young person, "HATE him!" + +"We know you do, miss," said Liddy; "and so do we all." + +"I hate him too," said Maryann. + +"Maryann--Oh you perjured woman! How can you speak that wicked +story!" said Bathsheba, excitedly. "You admired him from your heart +only this morning in the very world, you did. Yes, Maryann, you know +it!" + +"Yes, miss, but so did you. He is a wild scamp now, and you are +right to hate him." + +"He's NOT a wild scamp! How dare you to my face! I have no right to +hate him, nor you, nor anybody. But I am a silly woman! What is it +to me what he is? You know it is nothing. I don't care for him; I +don't mean to defend his good name, not I. Mind this, if any of you +say a word against him you'll be dismissed instantly!" + +She flung down the letter and surged back into the parlour, with a +big heart and tearful eyes, Liddy following her. + +"Oh miss!" said mild Liddy, looking pitifully into Bathsheba's face. +"I am sorry we mistook you so! I did think you cared for him; but I +see you don't now." + +"Shut the door, Liddy." + +Liddy closed the door, and went on: "People always say such foolery, +miss. I'll make answer hencefor'ard, 'Of course a lady like Miss +Everdene can't love him'; I'll say it out in plain black and white." + +Bathsheba burst out: "O Liddy, are you such a simpleton? Can't you +read riddles? Can't you see? Are you a woman yourself?" + +Liddy's clear eyes rounded with wonderment. + +"Yes; you must be a blind thing, Liddy!" she said, in reckless +abandonment and grief. "Oh, I love him to very distraction and +misery and agony! Don't be frightened at me, though perhaps I am +enough to frighten any innocent woman. Come closer--closer." She +put her arms round Liddy's neck. "I must let it out to somebody; it +is wearing me away! Don't you yet know enough of me to see through +that miserable denial of mine? O God, what a lie it was! Heaven and +my Love forgive me. And don't you know that a woman who loves at +all thinks nothing of perjury when it is balanced against her love? +There, go out of the room; I want to be quite alone." + +Liddy went towards the door. + +"Liddy, come here. Solemnly swear to me that he's not a fast man; +that it is all lies they say about him!" + +"But, miss, how can I say he is not if--" + +"You graceless girl! How can you have the cruel heart to repeat what +they say? Unfeeling thing that you are.... But I'LL see if you or +anybody else in the village, or town either, dare do such a thing!" +She started off, pacing from fireplace to door, and back again. + +"No, miss. I don't--I know it is not true!" said Liddy, frightened +at Bathsheba's unwonted vehemence. + +"I suppose you only agree with me like that to please me. But, +Liddy, he CANNOT BE bad, as is said. Do you hear?" + +"Yes, miss, yes." + +"And you don't believe he is?" + +"I don't know what to say, miss," said Liddy, beginning to cry. "If +I say No, you don't believe me; and if I say Yes, you rage at me!" + +"Say you don't believe it--say you don't!" + +"I don't believe him to be so bad as they make out." + +"He is not bad at all.... My poor life and heart, how weak I +am!" she moaned, in a relaxed, desultory way, heedless of Liddy's +presence. "Oh, how I wish I had never seen him! Loving is misery +for women always. I shall never forgive God for making me a woman, +and dearly am I beginning to pay for the honour of owning a pretty +face." She freshened and turned to Liddy suddenly. "Mind this, +Lydia Smallbury, if you repeat anywhere a single word of what I have +said to you inside this closed door, I'll never trust you, or love +you, or have you with me a moment longer--not a moment!" + +"I don't want to repeat anything," said Liddy, with womanly dignity +of a diminutive order; "but I don't wish to stay with you. And, +if you please, I'll go at the end of the harvest, or this week, or +to-day.... I don't see that I deserve to be put upon and stormed at +for nothing!" concluded the small woman, bigly. + +"No, no, Liddy; you must stay!" said Bathsheba, dropping from +haughtiness to entreaty with capricious inconsequence. "You must not +notice my being in a taking just now. You are not as a servant--you +are a companion to me. Dear, dear--I don't know what I am doing +since this miserable ache of my heart has weighted and worn upon me +so! What shall I come to! I suppose I shall get further and further +into troubles. I wonder sometimes if I am doomed to die in the +Union. I am friendless enough, God knows!" + +"I won't notice anything, nor will I leave you!" sobbed Liddy, +impulsively putting up her lips to Bathsheba's, and kissing her. + +Then Bathsheba kissed Liddy, and all was smooth again. + +"I don't often cry, do I, Lidd? but you have made tears come into my +eyes," she said, a smile shining through the moisture. "Try to think +him a good man, won't you, dear Liddy?" + +"I will, miss, indeed." + +"He is a sort of steady man in a wild way, you know. That's better +than to be as some are, wild in a steady way. I am afraid that's +how I am. And promise me to keep my secret--do, Liddy! And do not +let them know that I have been crying about him, because it will be +dreadful for me, and no good to him, poor thing!" + +"Death's head himself shan't wring it from me, mistress, if I've +a mind to keep anything; and I'll always be your friend," replied +Liddy, emphatically, at the same time bringing a few more tears into +her own eyes, not from any particular necessity, but from an artistic +sense of making herself in keeping with the remainder of the picture, +which seems to influence women at such times. "I think God likes us +to be good friends, don't you?" + +"Indeed I do." + +"And, dear miss, you won't harry me and storm at me, will you? +because you seem to swell so tall as a lion then, and it frightens +me! Do you know, I fancy you would be a match for any man when you +are in one o' your takings." + +"Never! do you?" said Bathsheba, slightly laughing, though somewhat +seriously alarmed by this Amazonian picture of herself. "I hope I am +not a bold sort of maid--mannish?" she continued with some anxiety. + +"Oh no, not mannish; but so almighty womanish that 'tis getting on +that way sometimes. Ah! miss," she said, after having drawn her +breath very sadly in and sent it very sadly out, "I wish I had half +your failing that way. 'Tis a great protection to a poor maid in +these illegit'mate days!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +BLAME--FURY + + +The next evening Bathsheba, with the idea of getting out of the way +of Mr. Boldwood in the event of his returning to answer her note +in person, proceeded to fulfil an engagement made with Liddy some +few hours earlier. Bathsheba's companion, as a gauge of their +reconciliation, had been granted a week's holiday to visit her +sister, who was married to a thriving hurdler and cattle-crib-maker +living in a delightful labyrinth of hazel copse not far beyond +Yalbury. The arrangement was that Miss Everdene should honour +them by coming there for a day or two to inspect some ingenious +contrivances which this man of the woods had introduced into his +wares. + +Leaving her instructions with Gabriel and Maryann, that they were to +see everything carefully locked up for the night, she went out of the +house just at the close of a timely thunder-shower, which had refined +the air, and daintily bathed the coat of the land, though all beneath +was dry as ever. Freshness was exhaled in an essence from the varied +contours of bank and hollow, as if the earth breathed maiden breath; +and the pleased birds were hymning to the scene. Before her, among +the clouds, there was a contrast in the shape of lairs of fierce +light which showed themselves in the neighbourhood of a hidden sun, +lingering on to the farthest north-west corner of the heavens that +this midsummer season allowed. + +She had walked nearly two miles of her journey, watching how the +day was retreating, and thinking how the time of deeds was quietly +melting into the time of thought, to give place in its turn to the +time of prayer and sleep, when she beheld advancing over Yalbury +hill the very man she sought so anxiously to elude. Boldwood was +stepping on, not with that quiet tread of reserved strength which +was his customary gait, in which he always seemed to be balancing +two thoughts. His manner was stunned and sluggish now. + +Boldwood had for the first time been awakened to woman's privileges +in tergiversation even when it involves another person's possible +blight. That Bathsheba was a firm and positive girl, far less +inconsequent than her fellows, had been the very lung of his hope; +for he had held that these qualities would lead her to adhere to a +straight course for consistency's sake, and accept him, though her +fancy might not flood him with the iridescent hues of uncritical +love. But the argument now came back as sorry gleams from a broken +mirror. The discovery was no less a scourge than a surprise. + +He came on looking upon the ground, and did not see Bathsheba till +they were less than a stone's throw apart. He looked up at the sound +of her pit-pat, and his changed appearance sufficiently denoted to +her the depth and strength of the feelings paralyzed by her letter. + +"Oh; is it you, Mr. Boldwood?" she faltered, a guilty warmth pulsing +in her face. + +Those who have the power of reproaching in silence may find it a +means more effective than words. There are accents in the eye which +are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can +enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter +moods that they avoid the pathway of sound. Boldwood's look was +unanswerable. + +Seeing she turned a little aside, he said, "What, are you afraid of +me?" + +"Why should you say that?" said Bathsheba. + +"I fancied you looked so," said he. "And it is most strange, because +of its contrast with my feeling for you." + +She regained self-possession, fixed her eyes calmly, and waited. + +"You know what that feeling is," continued Boldwood, deliberately. +"A thing strong as death. No dismissal by a hasty letter affects +that." + +"I wish you did not feel so strongly about me," she murmured. "It is +generous of you, and more than I deserve, but I must not hear it +now." + +"Hear it? What do you think I have to say, then? I am not to marry +you, and that's enough. Your letter was excellently plain. I want +you to hear nothing--not I." + +Bathsheba was unable to direct her will into any definite groove for +freeing herself from this fearfully awkward position. She confusedly +said, "Good evening," and was moving on. Boldwood walked up to her +heavily and dully. + +"Bathsheba--darling--is it final indeed?" + +"Indeed it is." + +"Oh, Bathsheba--have pity upon me!" Boldwood burst out. "God's sake, +yes--I am come to that low, lowest stage--to ask a woman for pity! +Still, she is you--she is you." + +Bathsheba commanded herself well. But she could hardly get a clear +voice for what came instinctively to her lips: "There is little +honour to the woman in that speech." It was only whispered, for +something unutterably mournful no less than distressing in this +spectacle of a man showing himself to be so entirely the vane of a +passion enervated the feminine instinct for punctilios. + +"I am beyond myself about this, and am mad," he said. "I am no stoic +at all to be supplicating here; but I do supplicate to you. I wish +you knew what is in me of devotion to you; but it is impossible, +that. In bare human mercy to a lonely man, don't throw me off now!" + +"I don't throw you off--indeed, how can I? I never had you." In her +noon-clear sense that she had never loved him she forgot for a moment +her thoughtless angle on that day in February. + +"But there was a time when you turned to me, before I thought of you! +I don't reproach you, for even now I feel that the ignorant and cold +darkness that I should have lived in if you had not attracted me by +that letter--valentine you call it--would have been worse than my +knowledge of you, though it has brought this misery. But, I say, +there was a time when I knew nothing of you, and cared nothing +for you, and yet you drew me on. And if you say you gave me no +encouragement, I cannot but contradict you." + +"What you call encouragement was the childish game of an idle minute. +I have bitterly repented of it--ay, bitterly, and in tears. Can you +still go on reminding me?" + +"I don't accuse you of it--I deplore it. I took for earnest what +you insist was jest, and now this that I pray to be jest you say is +awful, wretched earnest. Our moods meet at wrong places. I wish +your feeling was more like mine, or my feeling more like yours! Oh, +could I but have foreseen the torture that trifling trick was going +to lead me into, how I should have cursed you; but only having been +able to see it since, I cannot do that, for I love you too well! But +it is weak, idle drivelling to go on like this.... Bathsheba, you +are the first woman of any shade or nature that I have ever looked at +to love, and it is the having been so near claiming you for my own +that makes this denial so hard to bear. How nearly you promised me! +But I don't speak now to move your heart, and make you grieve because +of my pain; it is no use, that. I must bear it; my pain would get no +less by paining you." + +"But I do pity you--deeply--O, so deeply!" she earnestly said. + +"Do no such thing--do no such thing. Your dear love, Bathsheba, is +such a vast thing beside your pity, that the loss of your pity as +well as your love is no great addition to my sorrow, nor does the +gain of your pity make it sensibly less. O sweet--how dearly you +spoke to me behind the spear-bed at the washing-pool, and in the barn +at the shearing, and that dearest last time in the evening at your +home! Where are your pleasant words all gone--your earnest hope to +be able to love me? Where is your firm conviction that you would get +to care for me very much? Really forgotten?--really?" + +She checked emotion, looked him quietly and clearly in the face, and +said in her low, firm voice, "Mr. Boldwood, I promised you nothing. +Would you have had me a woman of clay when you paid me that furthest, +highest compliment a man can pay a woman--telling her he loves her? +I was bound to show some feeling, if I would not be a graceless +shrew. Yet each of those pleasures was just for the day--the day +just for the pleasure. How was I to know that what is a pastime to +all other men was death to you? Have reason, do, and think more +kindly of me!" + +"Well, never mind arguing--never mind. One thing is sure: you +were all but mine, and now you are not nearly mine. Everything is +changed, and that by you alone, remember. You were nothing to me +once, and I was contented; you are now nothing to me again, and how +different the second nothing is from the first! Would to God you +had never taken me up, since it was only to throw me down!" + +Bathsheba, in spite of her mettle, began to feel unmistakable signs +that she was inherently the weaker vessel. She strove miserably +against this femininity which would insist upon supplying unbidden +emotions in stronger and stronger current. She had tried to elude +agitation by fixing her mind on the trees, sky, any trivial object +before her eyes, whilst his reproaches fell, but ingenuity could not +save her now. + +"I did not take you up--surely I did not!" she answered as heroically +as she could. "But don't be in this mood with me. I can endure +being told I am in the wrong, if you will only tell it me gently! +O sir, will you not kindly forgive me, and look at it cheerfully?" + +"Cheerfully! Can a man fooled to utter heart-burning find a reason +for being merry? If I have lost, how can I be as if I had won? +Heavens you must be heartless quite! Had I known what a fearfully +bitter sweet this was to be, how I would have avoided you, and never +seen you, and been deaf of you. I tell you all this, but what do you +care! You don't care." + +She returned silent and weak denials to his charges, and swayed +her head desperately, as if to thrust away the words as they came +showering about her ears from the lips of the trembling man in the +climax of life, with his bronzed Roman face and fine frame. + +"Dearest, dearest, I am wavering even now between the two opposites +of recklessly renouncing you, and labouring humbly for you again. +Forget that you have said No, and let it be as it was! Say, +Bathsheba, that you only wrote that refusal to me in fun--come, say +it to me!" + +"It would be untrue, and painful to both of us. You overrate my +capacity for love. I don't possess half the warmth of nature you +believe me to have. An unprotected childhood in a cold world has +beaten gentleness out of me." + +He immediately said with more resentment: "That may be true, +somewhat; but ah, Miss Everdene, it won't do as a reason! You are +not the cold woman you would have me believe. No, no! It isn't +because you have no feeling in you that you don't love me. You +naturally would have me think so--you would hide from me that you +have a burning heart like mine. You have love enough, but it is +turned into a new channel. I know where." + +The swift music of her heart became hubbub now, and she throbbed +to extremity. He was coming to Troy. He did then know what had +occurred! And the name fell from his lips the next moment. + +"Why did Troy not leave my treasure alone?" he asked, fiercely. +"When I had no thought of injuring him, why did he force himself upon +your notice! Before he worried you your inclination was to have me; +when next I should have come to you your answer would have been Yes. +Can you deny it--I ask, can you deny it?" + +She delayed the reply, but was too honest to withhold it. "I +cannot," she whispered. + +"I know you cannot. But he stole in in my absence and robbed me. +Why didn't he win you away before, when nobody would have been +grieved?--when nobody would have been set tale-bearing. Now the +people sneer at me--the very hills and sky seem to laugh at me till I +blush shamefully for my folly. I have lost my respect, my good name, +my standing--lost it, never to get it again. Go and marry your +man--go on!" + +"Oh sir--Mr. Boldwood!" + +"You may as well. I have no further claim upon you. As for me, I +had better go somewhere alone, and hide--and pray. I loved a woman +once. I am now ashamed. When I am dead they'll say, miserable +love-sick man that he was. Heaven--heaven--if I had got jilted +secretly, and the dishonour not known, and my position kept! But +no matter, it is gone, and the woman not gained. Shame upon +him--shame!" + +His unreasonable anger terrified her, and she glided from him, +without obviously moving, as she said, "I am only a girl--do not +speak to me so!" + +"All the time you knew--how very well you knew--that your new freak +was my misery. Dazzled by brass and scarlet--Oh, Bathsheba--this is +woman's folly indeed!" + +She fired up at once. "You are taking too much upon yourself!" she +said, vehemently. "Everybody is upon me--everybody. It is unmanly +to attack a woman so! I have nobody in the world to fight my battles +for me; but no mercy is shown. Yet if a thousand of you sneer and +say things against me, I WILL NOT be put down!" + +"You'll chatter with him doubtless about me. Say to him, 'Boldwood +would have died for me.' Yes, and you have given way to him, knowing +him to be not the man for you. He has kissed you--claimed you as +his. Do you hear--he has kissed you. Deny it!" + +The most tragic woman is cowed by a tragic man, and although Boldwood +was, in vehemence and glow, nearly her own self rendered into another +sex, Bathsheba's cheek quivered. She gasped, "Leave me, sir--leave +me! I am nothing to you. Let me go on!" + +"Deny that he has kissed you." + +"I shall not." + +"Ha--then he has!" came hoarsely from the farmer. + +"He has," she said, slowly, and, in spite of her fear, defiantly. "I +am not ashamed to speak the truth." + +"Then curse him; and curse him!" said Boldwood, breaking into a +whispered fury. "Whilst I would have given worlds to touch your hand, +you have let a rake come in without right or ceremony and--kiss you! +Heaven's mercy--kiss you! ... Ah, a time of his life shall come +when he will have to repent, and think wretchedly of the pain he has +caused another man; and then may he ache, and wish, and curse, and +yearn--as I do now!" + +"Don't, don't, oh, don't pray down evil upon him!" she implored in a +miserable cry. "Anything but that--anything. Oh, be kind to him, +sir, for I love him true!" + +Boldwood's ideas had reached that point of fusion at which outline +and consistency entirely disappear. The impending night appeared to +concentrate in his eye. He did not hear her at all now. + +"I'll punish him--by my soul, that will I! I'll meet him, soldier or +no, and I'll horsewhip the untimely stripling for this reckless theft +of my one delight. If he were a hundred men I'd horsewhip him--" +He dropped his voice suddenly and unnaturally. "Bathsheba, sweet, +lost coquette, pardon me! I've been blaming you, threatening you, +behaving like a churl to you, when he's the greatest sinner. He +stole your dear heart away with his unfathomable lies! ... It is a +fortunate thing for him that he's gone back to his regiment--that +he's away up the country, and not here! I hope he may not return +here just yet. I pray God he may not come into my sight, for I may +be tempted beyond myself. Oh, Bathsheba, keep him away--yes, keep +him away from me!" + +For a moment Boldwood stood so inertly after this that his soul +seemed to have been entirely exhaled with the breath of his +passionate words. He turned his face away, and withdrew, and his +form was soon covered over by the twilight as his footsteps mixed +in with the low hiss of the leafy trees. + +Bathsheba, who had been standing motionless as a model all this +latter time, flung her hands to her face, and wildly attempted to +ponder on the exhibition which had just passed away. Such astounding +wells of fevered feeling in a still man like Mr. Boldwood were +incomprehensible, dreadful. Instead of being a man trained to +repression he was--what she had seen him. + +The force of the farmer's threats lay in their relation to a +circumstance known at present only to herself: her lover was coming +back to Weatherbury in the course of the very next day or two. Troy +had not returned to his distant barracks as Boldwood and others +supposed, but had merely gone to visit some acquaintance in Bath, +and had yet a week or more remaining to his furlough. + +She felt wretchedly certain that if he revisited her just at this +nick of time, and came into contact with Boldwood, a fierce quarrel +would be the consequence. She panted with solicitude when she +thought of possible injury to Troy. The least spark would kindle +the farmer's swift feelings of rage and jealousy; he would lose his +self-mastery as he had this evening; Troy's blitheness might become +aggressive; it might take the direction of derision, and Boldwood's +anger might then take the direction of revenge. + +With almost a morbid dread of being thought a gushing girl, this +guileless woman too well concealed from the world under a manner of +carelessness the warm depths of her strong emotions. But now there +was no reserve. In her distraction, instead of advancing further she +walked up and down, beating the air with her fingers, pressing on her +brow, and sobbing brokenly to herself. Then she sat down on a heap +of stones by the wayside to think. There she remained long. Above +the dark margin of the earth appeared foreshores and promontories of +coppery cloud, bounding a green and pellucid expanse in the western +sky. Amaranthine glosses came over them then, and the unresting +world wheeled her round to a contrasting prospect eastward, in the +shape of indecisive and palpitating stars. She gazed upon their +silent throes amid the shades of space, but realised none at all. +Her troubled spirit was far away with Troy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +NIGHT--HORSES TRAMPING + + +The village of Weatherbury was quiet as the graveyard in its midst, +and the living were lying well-nigh as still as the dead. The church +clock struck eleven. The air was so empty of other sounds that the +whirr of the clock-work immediately before the strokes was distinct, +and so was also the click of the same at their close. The notes flew +forth with the usual blind obtuseness of inanimate things--flapping +and rebounding among walls, undulating against the scattered clouds, +spreading through their interstices into unexplored miles of space. + +Bathsheba's crannied and mouldy halls were to-night occupied only by +Maryann, Liddy being, as was stated, with her sister, whom Bathsheba +had set out to visit. A few minutes after eleven had struck, Maryann +turned in her bed with a sense of being disturbed. She was totally +unconscious of the nature of the interruption to her sleep. It led +to a dream, and the dream to an awakening, with an uneasy sensation +that something had happened. She left her bed and looked out of the +window. The paddock abutted on this end of the building, and in the +paddock she could just discern by the uncertain gray a moving figure +approaching the horse that was feeding there. The figure seized the +horse by the forelock, and led it to the corner of the field. Here +she could see some object which circumstances proved to be a vehicle, +for after a few minutes spent apparently in harnessing, she heard the +trot of the horse down the road, mingled with the sound of light +wheels. + +Two varieties only of humanity could have entered the paddock with +the ghostlike glide of that mysterious figure. They were a woman and +a gipsy man. A woman was out of the question in such an occupation +at this hour, and the comer could be no less than a thief, who might +probably have known the weakness of the household on this particular +night, and have chosen it on that account for his daring attempt. +Moreover, to raise suspicion to conviction itself, there were gipsies +in Weatherbury Bottom. + +Maryann, who had been afraid to shout in the robber's presence, +having seen him depart had no fear. She hastily slipped on her +clothes, stumped down the disjointed staircase with its hundred +creaks, ran to Coggan's, the nearest house, and raised an alarm. +Coggan called Gabriel, who now again lodged in his house as at first, +and together they went to the paddock. Beyond all doubt the horse +was gone. + +"Hark!" said Gabriel. + +They listened. Distinct upon the stagnant air came the sounds of a +trotting horse passing up Longpuddle Lane--just beyond the gipsies' +encampment in Weatherbury Bottom. + +"That's our Dainty--I'll swear to her step," said Jan. + +"Mighty me! Won't mis'ess storm and call us stupids when she comes +back!" moaned Maryann. "How I wish it had happened when she was at +home, and none of us had been answerable!" + +"We must ride after," said Gabriel, decisively. "I'll be +responsible to Miss Everdene for what we do. Yes, we'll follow." + +"Faith, I don't see how," said Coggan. "All our horses are too heavy +for that trick except little Poppet, and what's she between two of +us?--If we only had that pair over the hedge we might do something." + +"Which pair?" + +"Mr. Boldwood's Tidy and Moll." + +"Then wait here till I come hither again," said Gabriel. He ran down +the hill towards Farmer Boldwood's. + +"Farmer Boldwood is not at home," said Maryann. + +"All the better," said Coggan. "I know what he's gone for." + +Less than five minutes brought up Oak again, running at the same +pace, with two halters dangling from his hand. + +"Where did you find 'em?" said Coggan, turning round and leaping upon +the hedge without waiting for an answer. + +"Under the eaves. I knew where they were kept," said Gabriel, +following him. "Coggan, you can ride bare-backed? there's no time to +look for saddles." + +"Like a hero!" said Jan. + +"Maryann, you go to bed," Gabriel shouted to her from the top of the +hedge. + +Springing down into Boldwood's pastures, each pocketed his halter to +hide it from the horses, who, seeing the men empty-handed, docilely +allowed themselves to be seized by the mane, when the halters were +dexterously slipped on. Having neither bit nor bridle, Oak and +Coggan extemporized the former by passing the rope in each case +through the animal's mouth and looping it on the other side. Oak +vaulted astride, and Coggan clambered up by aid of the bank, when +they ascended to the gate and galloped off in the direction taken by +Bathsheba's horse and the robber. Whose vehicle the horse had been +harnessed to was a matter of some uncertainty. + +Weatherbury Bottom was reached in three or four minutes. They +scanned the shady green patch by the roadside. The gipsies were +gone. + +"The villains!" said Gabriel. "Which way have they gone, I wonder?" + +"Straight on, as sure as God made little apples," said Jan. + +"Very well; we are better mounted, and must overtake em", said Oak. +"Now on at full speed!" + +No sound of the rider in their van could now be discovered. The +road-metal grew softer and more clayey as Weatherbury was left +behind, and the late rain had wetted its surface to a somewhat +plastic, but not muddy state. They came to cross-roads. Coggan +suddenly pulled up Moll and slipped off. + +"What's the matter?" said Gabriel. + +"We must try to track 'em, since we can't hear 'em," said Jan, +fumbling in his pockets. He struck a light, and held the match to +the ground. The rain had been heavier here, and all foot and horse +tracks made previous to the storm had been abraded and blurred by +the drops, and they were now so many little scoops of water, which +reflected the flame of the match like eyes. One set of tracks was +fresh and had no water in them; one pair of ruts was also empty, +and not small canals, like the others. The footprints forming this +recent impression were full of information as to pace; they were in +equidistant pairs, three or four feet apart, the right and left foot +of each pair being exactly opposite one another. + +"Straight on!" Jan exclaimed. "Tracks like that mean a stiff gallop. +No wonder we don't hear him. And the horse is harnessed--look at the +ruts. Ay, that's our mare sure enough!" + +"How do you know?" + +"Old Jimmy Harris only shoed her last week, and I'd swear to his make +among ten thousand." + +"The rest of the gipsies must ha' gone on earlier, or some other +way," said Oak. "You saw there were no other tracks?" + +"True." They rode along silently for a long weary time. Coggan +carried an old pinchbeck repeater which he had inherited from some +genius in his family; and it now struck one. He lighted another +match, and examined the ground again. + +"'Tis a canter now," he said, throwing away the light. "A twisty, +rickety pace for a gig. The fact is, they over-drove her at +starting; we shall catch 'em yet." + +Again they hastened on, and entered Blackmore Vale. Coggan's watch +struck one. When they looked again the hoof-marks were so spaced as +to form a sort of zigzag if united, like the lamps along a street. + +"That's a trot, I know," said Gabriel. + +"Only a trot now," said Coggan, cheerfully. "We shall overtake him +in time." + +They pushed rapidly on for yet two or three miles. "Ah! a moment," +said Jan. "Let's see how she was driven up this hill. 'Twill help +us." A light was promptly struck upon his gaiters as before, and the +examination made. + +"Hurrah!" said Coggan. "She walked up here--and well she might. We +shall get them in two miles, for a crown." + +They rode three, and listened. No sound was to be heard save a +millpond trickling hoarsely through a hatch, and suggesting gloomy +possibilities of drowning by jumping in. Gabriel dismounted when +they came to a turning. The tracks were absolutely the only guide as +to the direction that they now had, and great caution was necessary +to avoid confusing them with some others which had made their +appearance lately. + +"What does this mean?--though I guess," said Gabriel, looking up +at Coggan as he moved the match over the ground about the turning. +Coggan, who, no less than the panting horses, had latterly shown +signs of weariness, again scrutinized the mystic characters. This +time only three were of the regular horseshoe shape. Every fourth +was a dot. + +He screwed up his face and emitted a long "Whew-w-w!" + +"Lame," said Oak. + +"Yes. Dainty is lamed; the near-foot-afore," said Coggan slowly, +staring still at the footprints. + +"We'll push on," said Gabriel, remounting his humid steed. + +Although the road along its greater part had been as good as any +turnpike-road in the country, it was nominally only a byway. The +last turning had brought them into the high road leading to Bath. +Coggan recollected himself. + +"We shall have him now!" he exclaimed. + +"Where?" + +"Sherton Turnpike. The keeper of that gate is the sleepiest man +between here and London--Dan Randall, that's his name--knowed en for +years, when he was at Casterbridge gate. Between the lameness and the +gate 'tis a done job." + +They now advanced with extreme caution. Nothing was said until, +against a shady background of foliage, five white bars were visible, +crossing their route a little way ahead. + +"Hush--we are almost close!" said Gabriel. + +"Amble on upon the grass," said Coggan. + +The white bars were blotted out in the midst by a dark shape in +front of them. The silence of this lonely time was pierced by an +exclamation from that quarter. + +"Hoy-a-hoy! Gate!" + +It appeared that there had been a previous call which they had not +noticed, for on their close approach the door of the turnpike-house +opened, and the keeper came out half-dressed, with a candle in his +hand. The rays illumined the whole group. + +"Keep the gate close!" shouted Gabriel. "He has stolen the horse!" + +"Who?" said the turnpike-man. + +Gabriel looked at the driver of the gig, and saw a woman--Bathsheba, +his mistress. + +On hearing his voice she had turned her face away from the light. +Coggan had, however, caught sight of her in the meanwhile. + +"Why, 'tis mistress--I'll take my oath!" he said, amazed. + +Bathsheba it certainly was, and she had by this time done the trick +she could do so well in crises not of love, namely, mask a surprise +by coolness of manner. + +"Well, Gabriel," she inquired quietly, "where are you going?" + +"We thought--" began Gabriel. + +"I am driving to Bath," she said, taking for her own use the +assurance that Gabriel lacked. "An important matter made it +necessary for me to give up my visit to Liddy, and go off at once. +What, then, were you following me?" + +"We thought the horse was stole." + +"Well--what a thing! How very foolish of you not to know that I had +taken the trap and horse. I could neither wake Maryann nor get into +the house, though I hammered for ten minutes against her window-sill. +Fortunately, I could get the key of the coach-house, so I troubled no +one further. Didn't you think it might be me?" + +"Why should we, miss?" + +"Perhaps not. Why, those are never Farmer Boldwood's horses! +Goodness mercy! what have you been doing--bringing trouble upon me in +this way? What! mustn't a lady move an inch from her door without +being dogged like a thief?" + +"But how was we to know, if you left no account of your doings?" +expostulated Coggan, "and ladies don't drive at these hours, miss, +as a jineral rule of society." + +"I did leave an account--and you would have seen it in the morning. +I wrote in chalk on the coach-house doors that I had come back for +the horse and gig, and driven off; that I could arouse nobody, and +should return soon." + +"But you'll consider, ma'am, that we couldn't see that till it got +daylight." + +"True," she said, and though vexed at first she had too much sense +to blame them long or seriously for a devotion to her that was as +valuable as it was rare. She added with a very pretty grace, "Well, +I really thank you heartily for taking all this trouble; but I wish +you had borrowed anybody's horses but Mr. Boldwood's." + +"Dainty is lame, miss," said Coggan. "Can ye go on?" + +"It was only a stone in her shoe. I got down and pulled it out a +hundred yards back. I can manage very well, thank you. I shall be +in Bath by daylight. Will you now return, please?" + +She turned her head--the gateman's candle shimmering upon her quick, +clear eyes as she did so--passed through the gate, and was soon +wrapped in the embowering shades of mysterious summer boughs. Coggan +and Gabriel put about their horses, and, fanned by the velvety air of +this July night, retraced the road by which they had come. + +"A strange vagary, this of hers, isn't it, Oak?" said Coggan, +curiously. + +"Yes," said Gabriel, shortly. + +"She won't be in Bath by no daylight!" + +"Coggan, suppose we keep this night's work as quiet as we can?" + +"I am of one and the same mind." + +"Very well. We shall be home by three o'clock or so, and can creep +into the parish like lambs." + + +Bathsheba's perturbed meditations by the roadside had ultimately +evolved a conclusion that there were only two remedies for the +present desperate state of affairs. The first was merely to +keep Troy away from Weatherbury till Boldwood's indignation had +cooled; the second to listen to Oak's entreaties, and Boldwood's +denunciations, and give up Troy altogether. + +Alas! Could she give up this new love--induce him to renounce her +by saying she did not like him--could no more speak to him, and beg +him, for her good, to end his furlough in Bath, and see her and +Weatherbury no more? + +It was a picture full of misery, but for a while she contemplated it +firmly, allowing herself, nevertheless, as girls will, to dwell upon +the happy life she would have enjoyed had Troy been Boldwood, and the +path of love the path of duty--inflicting upon herself gratuitous +tortures by imagining him the lover of another woman after forgetting +her; for she had penetrated Troy's nature so far as to estimate his +tendencies pretty accurately, but unfortunately loved him no less in +thinking that he might soon cease to love her--indeed, considerably +more. + +She jumped to her feet. She would see him at once. Yes, she would +implore him by word of mouth to assist her in this dilemma. A letter +to keep him away could not reach him in time, even if he should be +disposed to listen to it. + +Was Bathsheba altogether blind to the obvious fact that the support +of a lover's arms is not of a kind best calculated to assist a +resolve to renounce him? Or was she sophistically sensible, with a +thrill of pleasure, that by adopting this course for getting rid of +him she was ensuring a meeting with him, at any rate, once more? + +It was now dark, and the hour must have been nearly ten. The only +way to accomplish her purpose was to give up her idea of visiting +Liddy at Yalbury, return to Weatherbury Farm, put the horse into +the gig, and drive at once to Bath. The scheme seemed at first +impossible: the journey was a fearfully heavy one, even for a strong +horse, at her own estimate; and she much underrated the distance. +It was most venturesome for a woman, at night, and alone. + +But could she go on to Liddy's and leave things to take their course? +No, no; anything but that. Bathsheba was full of a stimulating +turbulence, beside which caution vainly prayed for a hearing. She +turned back towards the village. + +Her walk was slow, for she wished not to enter Weatherbury till the +cottagers were in bed, and, particularly, till Boldwood was secure. +Her plan was now to drive to Bath during the night, see Sergeant Troy +in the morning before he set out to come to her, bid him farewell, +and dismiss him: then to rest the horse thoroughly (herself to weep +the while, she thought), starting early the next morning on her +return journey. By this arrangement she could trot Dainty gently +all the day, reach Liddy at Yalbury in the evening, and come home to +Weatherbury with her whenever they chose--so nobody would know she +had been to Bath at all. Such was Bathsheba's scheme. But in her +topographical ignorance as a late comer to the place, she misreckoned +the distance of her journey as not much more than half what it really +was. + +This idea she proceeded to carry out, with what initial success we +have already seen. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +IN THE SUN--A HARBINGER + + +A week passed, and there were no tidings of Bathsheba; nor was there +any explanation of her Gilpin's rig. + +Then a note came for Maryann, stating that the business which had +called her mistress to Bath still detained her there; but that she +hoped to return in the course of another week. + +Another week passed. The oat-harvest began, and all the men were +a-field under a monochromatic Lammas sky, amid the trembling air +and short shadows of noon. Indoors nothing was to be heard save +the droning of blue-bottle flies; out-of-doors the whetting of +scythes and the hiss of tressy oat-ears rubbing together as their +perpendicular stalks of amber-yellow fell heavily to each swath. +Every drop of moisture not in the men's bottles and flagons in the +form of cider was raining as perspiration from their foreheads and +cheeks. Drought was everywhere else. + +They were about to withdraw for a while into the charitable shade +of a tree in the fence, when Coggan saw a figure in a blue coat and +brass buttons running to them across the field. + +"I wonder who that is?" he said. + +"I hope nothing is wrong about mistress," said Maryann, who with some +other women was tying the bundles (oats being always sheafed on this +farm), "but an unlucky token came to me indoors this morning. I +went to unlock the door and dropped the key, and it fell upon the +stone floor and broke into two pieces. Breaking a key is a dreadful +bodement. I wish mis'ess was home." + +"'Tis Cain Ball," said Gabriel, pausing from whetting his reaphook. + +Oak was not bound by his agreement to assist in the corn-field; but +the harvest month is an anxious time for a farmer, and the corn was +Bathsheba's, so he lent a hand. + +"He's dressed up in his best clothes," said Matthew Moon. "He hev +been away from home for a few days, since he's had that felon upon +his finger; for 'a said, since I can't work I'll have a hollerday." + +"A good time for one--a' excellent time," said Joseph Poorgrass, +straightening his back; for he, like some of the others, had a way +of resting a while from his labour on such hot days for reasons +preternaturally small; of which Cain Ball's advent on a week-day in +his Sunday-clothes was one of the first magnitude. "Twas a bad leg +allowed me to read the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and Mark Clark learnt +All-Fours in a whitlow." + +"Ay, and my father put his arm out of joint to have time to go +courting," said Jan Coggan, in an eclipsing tone, wiping his face +with his shirt-sleeve and thrusting back his hat upon the nape of +his neck. + +By this time Cainy was nearing the group of harvesters, and was +perceived to be carrying a large slice of bread and ham in one hand, +from which he took mouthfuls as he ran, the other being wrapped in a +bandage. When he came close, his mouth assumed the bell shape, and +he began to cough violently. + +"Now, Cainy!" said Gabriel, sternly. "How many more times must I +tell you to keep from running so fast when you be eating? You'll +choke yourself some day, that's what you'll do, Cain Ball." + +"Hok-hok-hok!" replied Cain. "A crumb of my victuals went the +wrong way--hok-hok! That's what 'tis, Mister Oak! And I've been +visiting to Bath because I had a felon on my thumb; yes, and I've +seen--ahok-hok!" + +Directly Cain mentioned Bath, they all threw down their hooks and +forks and drew round him. Unfortunately the erratic crumb did not +improve his narrative powers, and a supplementary hindrance was that +of a sneeze, jerking from his pocket his rather large watch, which +dangled in front of the young man pendulum-wise. + +"Yes," he continued, directing his thoughts to Bath and letting his +eyes follow, "I've seed the world at last--yes--and I've seed our +mis'ess--ahok-hok-hok!" + +"Bother the boy!" said Gabriel. "Something is always going the wrong +way down your throat, so that you can't tell what's necessary to be +told." + +"Ahok! there! Please, Mister Oak, a gnat have just fleed into my +stomach and brought the cough on again!" + +"Yes, that's just it. Your mouth is always open, you young rascal!" + +"'Tis terrible bad to have a gnat fly down yer throat, pore boy!" +said Matthew Moon. + +"Well, at Bath you saw--" prompted Gabriel. + +"I saw our mistress," continued the junior shepherd, "and a sojer, +walking along. And bymeby they got closer and closer, and then they +went arm-in-crook, like courting complete--hok-hok! like courting +complete--hok!--courting complete--" Losing the thread of his +narrative at this point simultaneously with his loss of breath, their +informant looked up and down the field apparently for some clue to +it. "Well, I see our mis'ess and a soldier--a-ha-a-wk!" + +"Damn the boy!" said Gabriel. + +"'Tis only my manner, Mister Oak, if ye'll excuse it," said Cain +Ball, looking reproachfully at Oak, with eyes drenched in their own +dew. + +"Here's some cider for him--that'll cure his throat," said Jan +Coggan, lifting a flagon of cider, pulling out the cork, and applying +the hole to Cainy's mouth; Joseph Poorgrass in the meantime beginning +to think apprehensively of the serious consequences that would follow +Cainy Ball's strangulation in his cough, and the history of his Bath +adventures dying with him. + +"For my poor self, I always say 'please God' afore I do anything," +said Joseph, in an unboastful voice; "and so should you, Cain Ball. +'Tis a great safeguard, and might perhaps save you from being choked +to death some day." + +Mr. Coggan poured the liquor with unstinted liberality at the +suffering Cain's circular mouth; half of it running down the side of +the flagon, and half of what reached his mouth running down outside +his throat, and half of what ran in going the wrong way, and being +coughed and sneezed around the persons of the gathered reapers in the +form of a cider fog, which for a moment hung in the sunny air like a +small exhalation. + +"There's a great clumsy sneeze! Why can't ye have better manners, +you young dog!" said Coggan, withdrawing the flagon. + +"The cider went up my nose!" cried Cainy, as soon as he could speak; +"and now 'tis gone down my neck, and into my poor dumb felon, and +over my shiny buttons and all my best cloze!" + +"The poor lad's cough is terrible unfortunate," said Matthew Moon. +"And a great history on hand, too. Bump his back, shepherd." + +"'Tis my nater," mourned Cain. "Mother says I always was so +excitable when my feelings were worked up to a point!" + +"True, true," said Joseph Poorgrass. "The Balls were always a very +excitable family. I knowed the boy's grandfather--a truly nervous +and modest man, even to genteel refinery. 'Twas blush, blush with +him, almost as much as 'tis with me--not but that 'tis a fault in +me!" + +"Not at all, Master Poorgrass," said Coggan. "'Tis a very noble +quality in ye." + +"Heh-heh! well, I wish to noise nothing abroad--nothing at all," +murmured Poorgrass, diffidently. "But we be born to things--that's +true. Yet I would rather my trifle were hid; though, perhaps, a high +nater is a little high, and at my birth all things were possible to +my Maker, and he may have begrudged no gifts.... But under your +bushel, Joseph! under your bushel with 'ee! A strange desire, +neighbours, this desire to hide, and no praise due. Yet there is a +Sermon on the Mount with a calendar of the blessed at the head, and +certain meek men may be named therein." + +"Cainy's grandfather was a very clever man," said Matthew Moon. +"Invented a' apple-tree out of his own head, which is called by his +name to this day--the Early Ball. You know 'em, Jan? A Quarrenden +grafted on a Tom Putt, and a Rathe-ripe upon top o' that again. 'Tis +trew 'a used to bide about in a public-house wi' a 'ooman in a way he +had no business to by rights, but there--'a were a clever man in the +sense of the term." + +"Now then," said Gabriel, impatiently, "what did you see, Cain?" + +"I seed our mis'ess go into a sort of a park place, where there's +seats, and shrubs and flowers, arm-in-crook with a sojer," continued +Cainy, firmly, and with a dim sense that his words were very +effective as regarded Gabriel's emotions. "And I think the sojer +was Sergeant Troy. And they sat there together for more than +half-an-hour, talking moving things, and she once was crying a'most +to death. And when they came out her eyes were shining and she was +as white as a lily; and they looked into one another's faces, as +far-gone friendly as a man and woman can be." + +Gabriel's features seemed to get thinner. "Well, what did you see +besides?" + +"Oh, all sorts." + +"White as a lily? You are sure 'twas she?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, what besides?" + +"Great glass windows to the shops, and great clouds in the sky, full +of rain, and old wooden trees in the country round." + +"You stun-poll! What will ye say next?" said Coggan. + +"Let en alone," interposed Joseph Poorgrass. "The boy's meaning is +that the sky and the earth in the kingdom of Bath is not altogether +different from ours here. 'Tis for our good to gain knowledge of +strange cities, and as such the boy's words should be suffered, so +to speak it." + +"And the people of Bath," continued Cain, "never need to light their +fires except as a luxury, for the water springs up out of the earth +ready boiled for use." + +"'Tis true as the light," testified Matthew Moon. "I've heard other +navigators say the same thing." + +"They drink nothing else there," said Cain, "and seem to enjoy it, to +see how they swaller it down." + +"Well, it seems a barbarian practice enough to us, but I daresay the +natives think nothing o' it," said Matthew. + +"And don't victuals spring up as well as drink?" asked Coggan, +twirling his eye. + +"No--I own to a blot there in Bath--a true blot. God didn't provide +'em with victuals as well as drink, and 'twas a drawback I couldn't +get over at all." + +"Well, 'tis a curious place, to say the least," observed Moon; "and +it must be a curious people that live therein." + +"Miss Everdene and the soldier were walking about together, you say?" +said Gabriel, returning to the group. + +"Ay, and she wore a beautiful gold-colour silk gown, trimmed with +black lace, that would have stood alone 'ithout legs inside if +required. 'Twas a very winsome sight; and her hair was brushed +splendid. And when the sun shone upon the bright gown and his red +coat--my! how handsome they looked. You could see 'em all the +length of the street." + +"And what then?" murmured Gabriel. + +"And then I went into Griffin's to hae my boots hobbed, and then I +went to Riggs's batty-cake shop, and asked 'em for a penneth of the +cheapest and nicest stales, that were all but blue-mouldy, but not +quite. And whilst I was chawing 'em down I walked on and seed a +clock with a face as big as a baking trendle--" + +"But that's nothing to do with mistress!" + +"I'm coming to that, if you'll leave me alone, Mister Oak!" +remonstrated Cainy. "If you excites me, perhaps you'll bring on my +cough, and then I shan't be able to tell ye nothing." + +"Yes--let him tell it his own way," said Coggan. + +Gabriel settled into a despairing attitude of patience, and Cainy +went on:-- + +"And there were great large houses, and more people all the week long +than at Weatherbury club-walking on White Tuesdays. And I went to +grand churches and chapels. And how the parson would pray! Yes; he +would kneel down and put up his hands together, and make the holy +gold rings on his fingers gleam and twinkle in yer eyes, that he'd +earned by praying so excellent well!--Ah yes, I wish I lived there." + +"Our poor Parson Thirdly can't get no money to buy such rings," said +Matthew Moon, thoughtfully. "And as good a man as ever walked. I +don't believe poor Thirdly have a single one, even of humblest tin +or copper. Such a great ornament as they'd be to him on a dull +afternoon, when he's up in the pulpit lighted by the wax candles! +But 'tis impossible, poor man. Ah, to think how unequal things be." + +"Perhaps he's made of different stuff than to wear 'em," said +Gabriel, grimly. "Well, that's enough of this. Go on, Cainy--quick." + +"Oh--and the new style of parsons wear moustaches and long beards," +continued the illustrious traveller, "and look like Moses and Aaron +complete, and make we fokes in the congregation feel all over like +the children of Israel." + +"A very right feeling--very," said Joseph Poorgrass. + +"And there's two religions going on in the nation now--High Church +and High Chapel. And, thinks I, I'll play fair; so I went to High +Church in the morning, and High Chapel in the afternoon." + +"A right and proper boy," said Joseph Poorgrass. + +"Well, at High Church they pray singing, and worship all the colours +of the rainbow; and at High Chapel they pray preaching, and worship +drab and whitewash only. And then--I didn't see no more of Miss +Everdene at all." + +"Why didn't you say so afore, then?" exclaimed Oak, with much +disappointment. + +"Ah," said Matthew Moon, "she'll wish her cake dough if so be she's +over intimate with that man." + +"She's not over intimate with him," said Gabriel, indignantly. + +"She would know better," said Coggan. "Our mis'ess has too much +sense under they knots of black hair to do such a mad thing." + +"You see, he's not a coarse, ignorant man, for he was well brought +up," said Matthew, dubiously. "'Twas only wildness that made him a +soldier, and maids rather like your man of sin." + +"Now, Cain Ball," said Gabriel restlessly, "can you swear in the most +awful form that the woman you saw was Miss Everdene?" + +"Cain Ball, you be no longer a babe and suckling," said Joseph in the +sepulchral tone the circumstances demanded, "and you know what taking +an oath is. 'Tis a horrible testament mind ye, which you say and +seal with your blood-stone, and the prophet Matthew tells us that on +whomsoever it shall fall it will grind him to powder. Now, before +all the work-folk here assembled, can you swear to your words as the +shepherd asks ye?" + +"Please no, Mister Oak!" said Cainy, looking from one to the other +with great uneasiness at the spiritual magnitude of the position. "I +don't mind saying 'tis true, but I don't like to say 'tis damn true, +if that's what you mane." + +"Cain, Cain, how can you!" asked Joseph sternly. "You be asked to +swear in a holy manner, and you swear like wicked Shimei, the son of +Gera, who cursed as he came. Young man, fie!" + +"No, I don't! 'Tis you want to squander a pore boy's soul, Joseph +Poorgrass--that's what 'tis!" said Cain, beginning to cry. "All I +mane is that in common truth 'twas Miss Everdene and Sergeant Troy, +but in the horrible so-help-me truth that ye want to make of it +perhaps 'twas somebody else!" + +"There's no getting at the rights of it," said Gabriel, turning to +his work. + +"Cain Ball, you'll come to a bit of bread!" groaned Joseph Poorgrass. + +Then the reapers' hooks were flourished again, and the old sounds +went on. Gabriel, without making any pretence of being lively, did +nothing to show that he was particularly dull. However, Coggan knew +pretty nearly how the land lay, and when they were in a nook together +he said-- + +"Don't take on about her, Gabriel. What difference does it make +whose sweetheart she is, since she can't be yours?" + +"That's the very thing I say to myself," said Gabriel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +HOME AGAIN--A TRICKSTER + + +That same evening at dusk Gabriel was leaning over Coggan's +garden-gate, taking an up-and-down survey before retiring to rest. + +A vehicle of some kind was softly creeping along the grassy margin of +the lane. From it spread the tones of two women talking. The tones +were natural and not at all suppressed. Oak instantly knew the voices +to be those of Bathsheba and Liddy. + +The carriage came opposite and passed by. It was Miss Everdene's +gig, and Liddy and her mistress were the only occupants of the seat. +Liddy was asking questions about the city of Bath, and her companion +was answering them listlessly and unconcernedly. Both Bathsheba and +the horse seemed weary. + +The exquisite relief of finding that she was here again, safe and +sound, overpowered all reflection, and Oak could only luxuriate in +the sense of it. All grave reports were forgotten. + +He lingered and lingered on, till there was no difference between the +eastern and western expanses of sky, and the timid hares began to +limp courageously round the dim hillocks. Gabriel might have been +there an additional half-hour when a dark form walked slowly by. +"Good-night, Gabriel," the passer said. + +It was Boldwood. "Good-night, sir," said Gabriel. + +Boldwood likewise vanished up the road, and Oak shortly afterwards +turned indoors to bed. + +Farmer Boldwood went on towards Miss Everdene's house. He reached +the front, and approaching the entrance, saw a light in the parlour. +The blind was not drawn down, and inside the room was Bathsheba, +looking over some papers or letters. Her back was towards Boldwood. +He went to the door, knocked, and waited with tense muscles and an +aching brow. + +Boldwood had not been outside his garden since his meeting with +Bathsheba in the road to Yalbury. Silent and alone, he had remained +in moody meditation on woman's ways, deeming as essentials of the +whole sex the accidents of the single one of their number he had ever +closely beheld. By degrees a more charitable temper had pervaded +him, and this was the reason of his sally to-night. He had come to +apologize and beg forgiveness of Bathsheba with something like a +sense of shame at his violence, having but just now learnt that she +had returned--only from a visit to Liddy, as he supposed, the Bath +escapade being quite unknown to him. + +He inquired for Miss Everdene. Liddy's manner was odd, but he did +not notice it. She went in, leaving him standing there, and in her +absence the blind of the room containing Bathsheba was pulled down. +Boldwood augured ill from that sign. Liddy came out. + +"My mistress cannot see you, sir," she said. + +The farmer instantly went out by the gate. He was unforgiven--that +was the issue of it all. He had seen her who was to him +simultaneously a delight and a torture, sitting in the room he had +shared with her as a peculiarly privileged guest only a little +earlier in the summer, and she had denied him an entrance there now. + +Boldwood did not hurry homeward. It was ten o'clock at least, when, +walking deliberately through the lower part of Weatherbury, he heard +the carrier's spring van entering the village. The van ran to and +from a town in a northern direction, and it was owned and driven by +a Weatherbury man, at the door of whose house it now pulled up. The +lamp fixed to the head of the hood illuminated a scarlet and gilded +form, who was the first to alight. + +"Ah!" said Boldwood to himself, "come to see her again." + +Troy entered the carrier's house, which had been the place of his +lodging on his last visit to his native place. Boldwood was moved +by a sudden determination. He hastened home. In ten minutes he was +back again, and made as if he were going to call upon Troy at the +carrier's. But as he approached, some one opened the door and came +out. He heard this person say "Good-night" to the inmates, and the +voice was Troy's. This was strange, coming so immediately after +his arrival. Boldwood, however, hastened up to him. Troy had what +appeared to be a carpet-bag in his hand--the same that he had brought +with him. It seemed as if he were going to leave again this very +night. + +Troy turned up the hill and quickened his pace. Boldwood stepped +forward. + +"Sergeant Troy?" + +"Yes--I'm Sergeant Troy." + +"Just arrived from up the country, I think?" + +"Just arrived from Bath." + +"I am William Boldwood." + +"Indeed." + +The tone in which this word was uttered was all that had been wanted +to bring Boldwood to the point. + +"I wish to speak a word with you," he said. + +"What about?" + +"About her who lives just ahead there--and about a woman you have +wronged." + +"I wonder at your impertinence," said Troy, moving on. + +"Now look here," said Boldwood, standing in front of him, "wonder or +not, you are going to hold a conversation with me." + +Troy heard the dull determination in Boldwood's voice, looked at his +stalwart frame, then at the thick cudgel he carried in his hand. He +remembered it was past ten o'clock. It seemed worth while to be civil +to Boldwood. + +"Very well, I'll listen with pleasure," said Troy, placing his bag on +the ground, "only speak low, for somebody or other may overhear us in +the farmhouse there." + +"Well then--I know a good deal concerning your Fanny Robin's +attachment to you. I may say, too, that I believe I am the only +person in the village, excepting Gabriel Oak, who does know it. You +ought to marry her." + +"I suppose I ought. Indeed, I wish to, but I cannot." + +"Why?" + +Troy was about to utter something hastily; he then checked himself +and said, "I am too poor." His voice was changed. Previously it had +had a devil-may-care tone. It was the voice of a trickster now. + +Boldwood's present mood was not critical enough to notice tones. He +continued, "I may as well speak plainly; and understand, I don't +wish to enter into the questions of right or wrong, woman's honour +and shame, or to express any opinion on your conduct. I intend a +business transaction with you." + +"I see," said Troy. "Suppose we sit down here." + +An old tree trunk lay under the hedge immediately opposite, and they +sat down. + +"I was engaged to be married to Miss Everdene," said Boldwood, "but +you came and--" + +"Not engaged," said Troy. + +"As good as engaged." + +"If I had not turned up she might have become engaged to you." + +"Hang might!" + +"Would, then." + +"If you had not come I should certainly--yes, CERTAINLY--have been +accepted by this time. If you had not seen her you might have been +married to Fanny. Well, there's too much difference between Miss +Everdene's station and your own for this flirtation with her ever to +benefit you by ending in marriage. So all I ask is, don't molest her +any more. Marry Fanny. I'll make it worth your while." + +"How will you?" + +"I'll pay you well now, I'll settle a sum of money upon her, and +I'll see that you don't suffer from poverty in the future. I'll put +it clearly. Bathsheba is only playing with you: you are too poor +for her as I said; so give up wasting your time about a great match +you'll never make for a moderate and rightful match you may make +to-morrow; take up your carpet-bag, turn about, leave Weatherbury +now, this night, and you shall take fifty pounds with you. Fanny +shall have fifty to enable her to prepare for the wedding, when you +have told me where she is living, and she shall have five hundred +paid down on her wedding-day." + +In making this statement Boldwood's voice revealed only too clearly +a consciousness of the weakness of his position, his aims, and his +method. His manner had lapsed quite from that of the firm and +dignified Boldwood of former times; and such a scheme as he had now +engaged in he would have condemned as childishly imbecile only a few +months ago. We discern a grand force in the lover which he lacks +whilst a free man; but there is a breadth of vision in the free +man which in the lover we vainly seek. Where there is much bias +there must be some narrowness, and love, though added emotion, is +subtracted capacity. Boldwood exemplified this to an abnormal +degree: he knew nothing of Fanny Robin's circumstances or +whereabouts, he knew nothing of Troy's possibilities, yet that was +what he said. + +"I like Fanny best," said Troy; "and if, as you say, Miss Everdene is +out of my reach, why I have all to gain by accepting your money, and +marrying Fan. But she's only a servant." + +"Never mind--do you agree to my arrangement?" + +"I do." + +"Ah!" said Boldwood, in a more elastic voice. "Oh, Troy, if you like +her best, why then did you step in here and injure my happiness?" + +"I love Fanny best now," said Troy. "But Bathsh--Miss Everdene +inflamed me, and displaced Fanny for a time. It is over now." + +"Why should it be over so soon? And why then did you come here +again?" + +"There are weighty reasons. Fifty pounds at once, you said!" + +"I did," said Boldwood, "and here they are--fifty sovereigns." He +handed Troy a small packet. + +"You have everything ready--it seems that you calculated on my +accepting them," said the sergeant, taking the packet. + +"I thought you might accept them," said Boldwood. + +"You've only my word that the programme shall be adhered to, whilst +I at any rate have fifty pounds." + +"I had thought of that, and I have considered that if I can't appeal +to your honour I can trust to your--well, shrewdness we'll call +it--not to lose five hundred pounds in prospect, and also make a +bitter enemy of a man who is willing to be an extremely useful +friend." + +"Stop, listen!" said Troy in a whisper. + +A light pit-pat was audible upon the road just above them. + +"By George--'tis she," he continued. "I must go on and meet her." + +"She--who?" + +"Bathsheba." + +"Bathsheba--out alone at this time o' night!" said Boldwood in +amazement, and starting up. "Why must you meet her?" + +"She was expecting me to-night--and I must now speak to her, and wish +her good-bye, according to your wish." + +"I don't see the necessity of speaking." + +"It can do no harm--and she'll be wandering about looking for me if +I don't. You shall hear all I say to her. It will help you in your +love-making when I am gone." + +"Your tone is mocking." + +"Oh no. And remember this, if she does not know what has become of +me, she will think more about me than if I tell her flatly I have +come to give her up." + +"Will you confine your words to that one point?--Shall I hear every +word you say?" + +"Every word. Now sit still there, and hold my carpet bag for me, and +mark what you hear." + +The light footstep came closer, halting occasionally, as if the +walker listened for a sound. Troy whistled a double note in a soft, +fluty tone. + +"Come to that, is it!" murmured Boldwood, uneasily. + +"You promised silence," said Troy. + +"I promise again." + +Troy stepped forward. + +"Frank, dearest, is that you?" The tones were Bathsheba's. + +"O God!" said Boldwood. + +"Yes," said Troy to her. + +"How late you are," she continued, tenderly. "Did you come by the +carrier? I listened and heard his wheels entering the village, but +it was some time ago, and I had almost given you up, Frank." + +"I was sure to come," said Frank. "You knew I should, did you not?" + +"Well, I thought you would," she said, playfully; "and, Frank, it +is so lucky! There's not a soul in my house but me to-night. I've +packed them all off so nobody on earth will know of your visit to +your lady's bower. Liddy wanted to go to her grandfather's to tell +him about her holiday, and I said she might stay with them till +to-morrow--when you'll be gone again." + +"Capital," said Troy. "But, dear me, I had better go back for my +bag, because my slippers and brush and comb are in it; you run home +whilst I fetch it, and I'll promise to be in your parlour in ten +minutes." + +"Yes." She turned and tripped up the hill again. + +During the progress of this dialogue there was a nervous twitching +of Boldwood's tightly closed lips, and his face became bathed in a +clammy dew. He now started forward towards Troy. Troy turned to +him and took up the bag. + +"Shall I tell her I have come to give her up and cannot marry her?" +said the soldier, mockingly. + +"No, no; wait a minute. I want to say more to you--more to you!" +said Boldwood, in a hoarse whisper. + +"Now," said Troy, "you see my dilemma. Perhaps I am a bad man--the +victim of my impulses--led away to do what I ought to leave undone. +I can't, however, marry them both. And I have two reasons for +choosing Fanny. First, I like her best upon the whole, and second, +you make it worth my while." + +At the same instant Boldwood sprang upon him, and held him by the +neck. Troy felt Boldwood's grasp slowly tightening. The move was +absolutely unexpected. + +"A moment," he gasped. "You are injuring her you love!" + +"Well, what do you mean?" said the farmer. + +"Give me breath," said Troy. + +Boldwood loosened his hand, saying, "By Heaven, I've a mind to kill +you!" + +"And ruin her." + +"Save her." + +"Oh, how can she be saved now, unless I marry her?" + +Boldwood groaned. He reluctantly released the soldier, and flung him +back against the hedge. "Devil, you torture me!" said he. + +Troy rebounded like a ball, and was about to make a dash at the +farmer; but he checked himself, saying lightly-- + +"It is not worth while to measure my strength with you. Indeed it +is a barbarous way of settling a quarrel. I shall shortly leave the +army because of the same conviction. Now after that revelation of +how the land lies with Bathsheba, 'twould be a mistake to kill me, +would it not?" + +"'Twould be a mistake to kill you," repeated Boldwood, mechanically, +with a bowed head. + +"Better kill yourself." + +"Far better." + +"I'm glad you see it." + +"Troy, make her your wife, and don't act upon what I arranged just +now. The alternative is dreadful, but take Bathsheba; I give her up! +She must love you indeed to sell soul and body to you so utterly as +she has done. Wretched woman--deluded woman--you are, Bathsheba!" + +"But about Fanny?" + +"Bathsheba is a woman well to do," continued Boldwood, in nervous +anxiety, "and, Troy, she will make a good wife; and, indeed, she is +worth your hastening on your marriage with her!" + +"But she has a will--not to say a temper, and I shall be a mere slave +to her. I could do anything with poor Fanny Robin." + +"Troy," said Boldwood, imploringly, "I'll do anything for you, only +don't desert her; pray don't desert her, Troy." + +"Which, poor Fanny?" + +"No; Bathsheba Everdene. Love her best! Love her tenderly! How +shall I get you to see how advantageous it will be to you to secure +her at once?" + +"I don't wish to secure her in any new way." + +Boldwood's arm moved spasmodically towards Troy's person again. He +repressed the instinct, and his form drooped as with pain. + +Troy went on-- + +"I shall soon purchase my discharge, and then--" + +"But I wish you to hasten on this marriage! It will be better for +you both. You love each other, and you must let me help you to do +it." + +"How?" + +"Why, by settling the five hundred on Bathsheba instead of Fanny, to +enable you to marry at once. No; she wouldn't have it of me. I'll +pay it down to you on the wedding-day." + +Troy paused in secret amazement at Boldwood's wild infatuation. He +carelessly said, "And am I to have anything now?" + +"Yes, if you wish to. But I have not much additional money with me. +I did not expect this; but all I have is yours." + +Boldwood, more like a somnambulist than a wakeful man, pulled out the +large canvas bag he carried by way of a purse, and searched it. + +"I have twenty-one pounds more with me," he said. "Two notes and a +sovereign. But before I leave you I must have a paper signed--" + +"Pay me the money, and we'll go straight to her parlour, and make any +arrangement you please to secure my compliance with your wishes. But +she must know nothing of this cash business." + +"Nothing, nothing," said Boldwood, hastily. "Here is the sum, and +if you'll come to my house we'll write out the agreement for the +remainder, and the terms also." + +"First we'll call upon her." + +"But why? Come with me to-night, and go with me to-morrow to the +surrogate's." + +"But she must be consulted; at any rate informed." + +"Very well; go on." + +They went up the hill to Bathsheba's house. When they stood at the +entrance, Troy said, "Wait here a moment." Opening the door, he +glided inside, leaving the door ajar. + +Boldwood waited. In two minutes a light appeared in the passage. +Boldwood then saw that the chain had been fastened across the door. +Troy appeared inside, carrying a bedroom candlestick. + +"What, did you think I should break in?" said Boldwood, +contemptuously. + +"Oh, no, it is merely my humour to secure things. Will you read this +a moment? I'll hold the light." + +Troy handed a folded newspaper through the slit between door and +doorpost, and put the candle close. "That's the paragraph," he said, +placing his finger on a line. + +Boldwood looked and read-- + + + MARRIAGES. + + On the 17th inst., at St. Ambrose's Church, Bath, by the + Rev. G. Mincing, B.A., Francis Troy, only son of the late + Edward Troy, Esq., M.D., of Weatherbury, and sergeant with + Dragoon Guards, to Bathsheba, only surviving daughter of + the late Mr. John Everdene, of Casterbridge. + + +"This may be called Fort meeting Feeble, hey, Boldwood?" said Troy. +A low gurgle of derisive laughter followed the words. + +The paper fell from Boldwood's hands. Troy continued-- + +"Fifty pounds to marry Fanny. Good. Twenty-one pounds not to marry +Fanny, but Bathsheba. Good. Finale: already Bathsheba's husband. +Now, Boldwood, yours is the ridiculous fate which always attends +interference between a man and his wife. And another word. Bad as I +am, I am not such a villain as to make the marriage or misery of any +woman a matter of huckster and sale. Fanny has long ago left me. I +don't know where she is. I have searched everywhere. Another word +yet. You say you love Bathsheba; yet on the merest apparent evidence +you instantly believe in her dishonour. A fig for such love! Now +that I've taught you a lesson, take your money back again." + +"I will not; I will not!" said Boldwood, in a hiss. + +"Anyhow I won't have it," said Troy, contemptuously. He wrapped the +packet of gold in the notes, and threw the whole into the road. + +Boldwood shook his clenched fist at him. "You juggler of Satan! You +black hound! But I'll punish you yet; mark me, I'll punish you yet!" + +Another peal of laughter. Troy then closed the door, and locked +himself in. + +Throughout the whole of that night Boldwood's dark form might have +been seen walking about the hills and downs of Weatherbury like an +unhappy Shade in the Mournful Fields by Acheron. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +AT AN UPPER WINDOW + + +It was very early the next morning--a time of sun and dew. The +confused beginnings of many birds' songs spread into the healthy air, +and the wan blue of the heaven was here and there coated with thin +webs of incorporeal cloud which were of no effect in obscuring day. +All the lights in the scene were yellow as to colour, and all the +shadows were attenuated as to form. The creeping plants about the +old manor-house were bowed with rows of heavy water drops, which +had upon objects behind them the effect of minute lenses of high +magnifying power. + +Just before the clock struck five Gabriel Oak and Coggan passed the +village cross, and went on together to the fields. They were yet +barely in view of their mistress's house, when Oak fancied he saw the +opening of a casement in one of the upper windows. The two men were +at this moment partially screened by an elder bush, now beginning +to be enriched with black bunches of fruit, and they paused before +emerging from its shade. + +A handsome man leaned idly from the lattice. He looked east and then +west, in the manner of one who makes a first morning survey. The +man was Sergeant Troy. His red jacket was loosely thrown on, but +not buttoned, and he had altogether the relaxed bearing of a soldier +taking his ease. + +Coggan spoke first, looking quietly at the window. + +"She has married him!" he said. + +Gabriel had previously beheld the sight, and he now stood with his +back turned, making no reply. + +"I fancied we should know something to-day," continued Coggan. "I +heard wheels pass my door just after dark--you were out somewhere." +He glanced round upon Gabriel. "Good heavens above us, Oak, how +white your face is; you look like a corpse!" + +"Do I?" said Oak, with a faint smile. + +"Lean on the gate: I'll wait a bit." + +"All right, all right." + +They stood by the gate awhile, Gabriel listlessly staring at the +ground. His mind sped into the future, and saw there enacted in +years of leisure the scenes of repentance that would ensue from this +work of haste. That they were married he had instantly decided. Why +had it been so mysteriously managed? It had become known that she +had had a fearful journey to Bath, owing to her miscalculating the +distance: that the horse had broken down, and that she had been more +than two days getting there. It was not Bathsheba's way to do things +furtively. With all her faults, she was candour itself. Could she +have been entrapped? The union was not only an unutterable grief to +him: it amazed him, notwithstanding that he had passed the preceding +week in a suspicion that such might be the issue of Troy's meeting +her away from home. Her quiet return with Liddy had to some extent +dispersed the dread. Just as that imperceptible motion which appears +like stillness is infinitely divided in its properties from stillness +itself, so had his hope undistinguishable from despair differed from +despair indeed. + +In a few minutes they moved on again towards the house. The sergeant +still looked from the window. + +"Morning, comrades!" he shouted, in a cheery voice, when they came +up. + +Coggan replied to the greeting. "Bain't ye going to answer the man?" +he then said to Gabriel. "I'd say good morning--you needn't spend a +hapenny of meaning upon it, and yet keep the man civil." + +Gabriel soon decided too that, since the deed was done, to put the +best face upon the matter would be the greatest kindness to her he +loved. + +"Good morning, Sergeant Troy," he returned, in a ghastly voice. + +"A rambling, gloomy house this," said Troy, smiling. + +"Why--they MAY not be married!" suggested Coggan. "Perhaps she's not +there." + +Gabriel shook his head. The soldier turned a little towards the +east, and the sun kindled his scarlet coat to an orange glow. + +"But it is a nice old house," responded Gabriel. + +"Yes--I suppose so; but I feel like new wine in an old bottle here. +My notion is that sash-windows should be put throughout, and these +old wainscoted walls brightened up a bit; or the oak cleared quite +away, and the walls papered." + +"It would be a pity, I think." + +"Well, no. A philosopher once said in my hearing that the old +builders, who worked when art was a living thing, had no respect +for the work of builders who went before them, but pulled down and +altered as they thought fit; and why shouldn't we? 'Creation and +preservation don't do well together,' says he, 'and a million of +antiquarians can't invent a style.' My mind exactly. I am for making +this place more modern, that we may be cheerful whilst we can." + +The military man turned and surveyed the interior of the room, to +assist his ideas of improvement in this direction. Gabriel and +Coggan began to move on. + +"Oh, Coggan," said Troy, as if inspired by a recollection "do you +know if insanity has ever appeared in Mr. Boldwood's family?" + +Jan reflected for a moment. + +"I once heard that an uncle of his was queer in his head, but I don't +know the rights o't," he said. + +"It is of no importance," said Troy, lightly. "Well, I shall be down +in the fields with you some time this week; but I have a few matters +to attend to first. So good-day to you. We shall, of course, keep +on just as friendly terms as usual. I'm not a proud man: nobody is +ever able to say that of Sergeant Troy. However, what is must be, +and here's half-a-crown to drink my health, men." + +Troy threw the coin dexterously across the front plot and over the +fence towards Gabriel, who shunned it in its fall, his face turning +to an angry red. Coggan twirled his eye, edged forward, and caught +the money in its ricochet upon the road. + +"Very well--you keep it, Coggan," said Gabriel with disdain and +almost fiercely. "As for me, I'll do without gifts from him!" + +"Don't show it too much," said Coggan, musingly. "For if he's +married to her, mark my words, he'll buy his discharge and be our +master here. Therefore 'tis well to say 'Friend' outwardly, though +you say 'Troublehouse' within." + +"Well--perhaps it is best to be silent; but I can't go further than +that. I can't flatter, and if my place here is only to be kept by +smoothing him down, my place must be lost." + +A horseman, whom they had for some time seen in the distance, now +appeared close beside them. + +"There's Mr. Boldwood," said Oak. "I wonder what Troy meant by his +question." + +Coggan and Oak nodded respectfully to the farmer, just checked their +paces to discover if they were wanted, and finding they were not +stood back to let him pass on. + +The only signs of the terrible sorrow Boldwood had been combating +through the night, and was combating now, were the want of colour +in his well-defined face, the enlarged appearance of the veins in +his forehead and temples, and the sharper lines about his mouth. +The horse bore him away, and the very step of the animal seemed +significant of dogged despair. Gabriel, for a minute, rose above his +own grief in noticing Boldwood's. He saw the square figure sitting +erect upon the horse, the head turned to neither side, the elbows +steady by the hips, the brim of the hat level and undisturbed in +its onward glide, until the keen edges of Boldwood's shape sank by +degrees over the hill. To one who knew the man and his story there +was something more striking in this immobility than in a collapse. +The clash of discord between mood and matter here was forced +painfully home to the heart; and, as in laughter there are more +dreadful phases than in tears, so was there in the steadiness of +this agonized man an expression deeper than a cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +WEALTH IN JEOPARDY--THE REVEL + + +One night, at the end of August, when Bathsheba's experiences as a +married woman were still new, and when the weather was yet dry and +sultry, a man stood motionless in the stockyard of Weatherbury Upper +Farm, looking at the moon and sky. + +The night had a sinister aspect. A heated breeze from the south +slowly fanned the summits of lofty objects, and in the sky dashes +of buoyant cloud were sailing in a course at right angles to that +of another stratum, neither of them in the direction of the breeze +below. The moon, as seen through these films, had a lurid metallic +look. The fields were sallow with the impure light, and all were +tinged in monochrome, as if beheld through stained glass. The same +evening the sheep had trailed homeward head to tail, the behaviour of +the rooks had been confused, and the horses had moved with timidity +and caution. + +Thunder was imminent, and, taking some secondary appearances into +consideration, it was likely to be followed by one of the lengthened +rains which mark the close of dry weather for the season. Before +twelve hours had passed a harvest atmosphere would be a bygone thing. + +Oak gazed with misgiving at eight naked and unprotected ricks, +massive and heavy with the rich produce of one-half the farm for +that year. He went on to the barn. + +This was the night which had been selected by Sergeant Troy--ruling +now in the room of his wife--for giving the harvest supper and dance. +As Oak approached the building the sound of violins and a tambourine, +and the regular jigging of many feet, grew more distinct. He came +close to the large doors, one of which stood slightly ajar, and +looked in. + +The central space, together with the recess at one end, was emptied +of all incumbrances, and this area, covering about two-thirds of +the whole, was appropriated for the gathering, the remaining end, +which was piled to the ceiling with oats, being screened off with +sail-cloth. Tufts and garlands of green foliage decorated the walls, +beams, and extemporized chandeliers, and immediately opposite to Oak +a rostrum had been erected, bearing a table and chairs. Here sat +three fiddlers, and beside them stood a frantic man with his hair +on end, perspiration streaming down his cheeks, and a tambourine +quivering in his hand. + +The dance ended, and on the black oak floor in the midst a new row of +couples formed for another. + +"Now, ma'am, and no offence I hope, I ask what dance you would like +next?" said the first violin. + +"Really, it makes no difference," said the clear voice of Bathsheba, +who stood at the inner end of the building, observing the scene from +behind a table covered with cups and viands. Troy was lolling beside +her. + +"Then," said the fiddler, "I'll venture to name that the right and +proper thing is 'The Soldier's Joy'--there being a gallant soldier +married into the farm--hey, my sonnies, and gentlemen all?" + +"It shall be 'The Soldier's Joy,'" exclaimed a chorus. + +"Thanks for the compliment," said the sergeant gaily, taking +Bathsheba by the hand and leading her to the top of the dance. "For +though I have purchased my discharge from Her Most Gracious Majesty's +regiment of cavalry the 11th Dragoon Guards, to attend to the new +duties awaiting me here, I shall continue a soldier in spirit and +feeling as long as I live." + +So the dance began. As to the merits of "The Soldier's Joy," there +cannot be, and never were, two opinions. It has been observed in the +musical circles of Weatherbury and its vicinity that this melody, at +the end of three-quarters of an hour of thunderous footing, still +possesses more stimulative properties for the heel and toe than the +majority of other dances at their first opening. "The Soldier's Joy" +has, too, an additional charm, in being so admirably adapted to the +tambourine aforesaid--no mean instrument in the hands of a performer +who understands the proper convulsions, spasms, St. Vitus's dances, +and fearful frenzies necessary when exhibiting its tones in their +highest perfection. + +The immortal tune ended, a fine DD rolling forth from the bass-viol +with the sonorousness of a cannonade, and Gabriel delayed his entry +no longer. He avoided Bathsheba, and got as near as possible +to the platform, where Sergeant Troy was now seated, drinking +brandy-and-water, though the others drank without exception cider and +ale. Gabriel could not easily thrust himself within speaking distance +of the sergeant, and he sent a message, asking him to come down for a +moment. The sergeant said he could not attend. + +"Will you tell him, then," said Gabriel, "that I only stepped ath'art +to say that a heavy rain is sure to fall soon, and that something +should be done to protect the ricks?" + +"Mr. Troy says it will not rain," returned the messenger, "and he +cannot stop to talk to you about such fidgets." + +In juxtaposition with Troy, Oak had a melancholy tendency to look +like a candle beside gas, and ill at ease, he went out again, +thinking he would go home; for, under the circumstances, he had no +heart for the scene in the barn. At the door he paused for a moment: +Troy was speaking. + +"Friends, it is not only the harvest home that we are celebrating +to-night; but this is also a Wedding Feast. A short time ago I had +the happiness to lead to the altar this lady, your mistress, and not +until now have we been able to give any public flourish to the event +in Weatherbury. That it may be thoroughly well done, and that every +man may go happy to bed, I have ordered to be brought here some +bottles of brandy and kettles of hot water. A treble-strong goblet +will be handed round to each guest." + +Bathsheba put her hand upon his arm, and, with upturned pale face, +said imploringly, "No--don't give it to them--pray don't, Frank! It +will only do them harm: they have had enough of everything." + +"True--we don't wish for no more, thank ye," said one or two. + +"Pooh!" said the sergeant contemptuously, and raised his voice as +if lighted up by a new idea. "Friends," he said, "we'll send the +women-folk home! 'Tis time they were in bed. Then we cockbirds will +have a jolly carouse to ourselves! If any of the men show the white +feather, let them look elsewhere for a winter's work." + +Bathsheba indignantly left the barn, followed by all the women and +children. The musicians, not looking upon themselves as "company," +slipped quietly away to their spring waggon and put in the horse. +Thus Troy and the men on the farm were left sole occupants of the +place. Oak, not to appear unnecessarily disagreeable, stayed a +little while; then he, too, arose and quietly took his departure, +followed by a friendly oath from the sergeant for not staying to a +second round of grog. + +Gabriel proceeded towards his home. In approaching the door, his +toe kicked something which felt and sounded soft, leathery, and +distended, like a boxing-glove. It was a large toad humbly +travelling across the path. Oak took it up, thinking it might be +better to kill the creature to save it from pain; but finding it +uninjured, he placed it again among the grass. He knew what this +direct message from the Great Mother meant. And soon came another. + +When he struck a light indoors there appeared upon the table a thin +glistening streak, as if a brush of varnish had been lightly dragged +across it. Oak's eyes followed the serpentine sheen to the other +side, where it led up to a huge brown garden-slug, which had come +indoors to-night for reasons of its own. It was Nature's second way +of hinting to him that he was to prepare for foul weather. + +Oak sat down meditating for nearly an hour. During this time two +black spiders, of the kind common in thatched houses, promenaded the +ceiling, ultimately dropping to the floor. This reminded him that +if there was one class of manifestation on this matter that he +thoroughly understood, it was the instincts of sheep. He left the +room, ran across two or three fields towards the flock, got upon a +hedge, and looked over among them. + +They were crowded close together on the other side around some furze +bushes, and the first peculiarity observable was that, on the sudden +appearance of Oak's head over the fence, they did not stir or run +away. They had now a terror of something greater than their terror +of man. But this was not the most noteworthy feature: they were all +grouped in such a way that their tails, without a single exception, +were towards that half of the horizon from which the storm +threatened. There was an inner circle closely huddled, and outside +these they radiated wider apart, the pattern formed by the flock as a +whole not being unlike a vandyked lace collar, to which the clump of +furze-bushes stood in the position of a wearer's neck. + +This was enough to re-establish him in his original opinion. He knew +now that he was right, and that Troy was wrong. Every voice in nature +was unanimous in bespeaking change. But two distinct translations +attached to these dumb expressions. Apparently there was to be a +thunder-storm, and afterwards a cold continuous rain. The creeping +things seemed to know all about the later rain, but little of the +interpolated thunder-storm; whilst the sheep knew all about the +thunder-storm and nothing of the later rain. + +This complication of weathers being uncommon, was all the more to be +feared. Oak returned to the stack-yard. All was silent here, and +the conical tips of the ricks jutted darkly into the sky. There were +five wheat-ricks in this yard, and three stacks of barley. The wheat +when threshed would average about thirty quarters to each stack; the +barley, at least forty. Their value to Bathsheba, and indeed to +anybody, Oak mentally estimated by the following simple +calculation:-- + + + 5 x 30 = 150 quarters = 500 L. + 3 x 40 = 120 quarters = 250 L. + ------- + Total . . 750 L. + + +Seven hundred and fifty pounds in the divinest form that money can +wear--that of necessary food for man and beast: should the risk be +run of deteriorating this bulk of corn to less than half its value, +because of the instability of a woman? "Never, if I can prevent it!" +said Gabriel. + +Such was the argument that Oak set outwardly before him. But man, +even to himself, is a palimpsest, having an ostensible writing, and +another beneath the lines. It is possible that there was this golden +legend under the utilitarian one: "I will help to my last effort the +woman I have loved so dearly." + +He went back to the barn to endeavour to obtain assistance for +covering the ricks that very night. All was silent within, and he +would have passed on in the belief that the party had broken up, had +not a dim light, yellow as saffron by contrast with the greenish +whiteness outside, streamed through a knot-hole in the folding doors. + +Gabriel looked in. An unusual picture met his eye. + +The candles suspended among the evergreens had burnt down to their +sockets, and in some cases the leaves tied about them were scorched. +Many of the lights had quite gone out, others smoked and stank, +grease dropping from them upon the floor. Here, under the table, and +leaning against forms and chairs in every conceivable attitude except +the perpendicular, were the wretched persons of all the work-folk, +the hair of their heads at such low levels being suggestive of mops +and brooms. In the midst of these shone red and distinct the figure +of Sergeant Troy, leaning back in a chair. Coggan was on his back, +with his mouth open, huzzing forth snores, as were several others; +the united breathings of the horizonal assemblage forming a subdued +roar like London from a distance. Joseph Poorgrass was curled round +in the fashion of a hedge-hog, apparently in attempts to present the +least possible portion of his surface to the air; and behind him +was dimly visible an unimportant remnant of William Smallbury. +The glasses and cups still stood upon the table, a water-jug being +overturned, from which a small rill, after tracing its course with +marvellous precision down the centre of the long table, fell into the +neck of the unconscious Mark Clark, in a steady, monotonous drip, +like the dripping of a stalactite in a cave. + +Gabriel glanced hopelessly at the group, which, with one or two +exceptions, composed all the able-bodied men upon the farm. He saw +at once that if the ricks were to be saved that night, or even the +next morning, he must save them with his own hands. + +A faint "ting-ting" resounded from under Coggan's waistcoat. It was +Coggan's watch striking the hour of two. + +Oak went to the recumbent form of Matthew Moon, who usually undertook +the rough thatching of the home-stead, and shook him. The shaking +was without effect. + +Gabriel shouted in his ear, "where's your thatching-beetle and +rick-stick and spars?" + +"Under the staddles," said Moon, mechanically, with the unconscious +promptness of a medium. + +Gabriel let go his head, and it dropped upon the floor like a bowl. +He then went to Susan Tall's husband. + +"Where's the key of the granary?" + +No answer. The question was repeated, with the same result. To be +shouted to at night was evidently less of a novelty to Susan Tall's +husband than to Matthew Moon. Oak flung down Tall's head into the +corner again and turned away. + +To be just, the men were not greatly to blame for this painful and +demoralizing termination to the evening's entertainment. Sergeant +Troy had so strenuously insisted, glass in hand, that drinking should +be the bond of their union, that those who wished to refuse hardly +liked to be so unmannerly under the circumstances. Having from their +youth up been entirely unaccustomed to any liquor stronger than cider +or mild ale, it was no wonder that they had succumbed, one and all, +with extraordinary uniformity, after the lapse of about an hour. + +Gabriel was greatly depressed. This debauch boded ill for that +wilful and fascinating mistress whom the faithful man even now felt +within him as the embodiment of all that was sweet and bright and +hopeless. + +He put out the expiring lights, that the barn might not be +endangered, closed the door upon the men in their deep and oblivious +sleep, and went again into the lone night. A hot breeze, as if +breathed from the parted lips of some dragon about to swallow the +globe, fanned him from the south, while directly opposite in the +north rose a grim misshapen body of cloud, in the very teeth of the +wind. So unnaturally did it rise that one could fancy it to be +lifted by machinery from below. Meanwhile the faint cloudlets had +flown back into the south-east corner of the sky, as if in terror of +the large cloud, like a young brood gazed in upon by some monster. + +Going on to the village, Oak flung a small stone against the window +of Laban Tall's bedroom, expecting Susan to open it; but nobody +stirred. He went round to the back door, which had been left +unfastened for Laban's entry, and passed in to the foot of the +staircase. + +"Mrs. Tall, I've come for the key of the granary, to get at the +rick-cloths," said Oak, in a stentorian voice. + +"Is that you?" said Mrs. Susan Tall, half awake. + +"Yes," said Gabriel. + +"Come along to bed, do, you drawlatching rogue--keeping a body awake +like this!" + +"It isn't Laban--'tis Gabriel Oak. I want the key of the granary." + +"Gabriel! What in the name of fortune did you pretend to be Laban +for?" + +"I didn't. I thought you meant--" + +"Yes you did! What do you want here?" + +"The key of the granary." + +"Take it then. 'Tis on the nail. People coming disturbing women at +this time of night ought--" + +Gabriel took the key, without waiting to hear the conclusion of the +tirade. Ten minutes later his lonely figure might have been seen +dragging four large water-proof coverings across the yard, and soon +two of these heaps of treasure in grain were covered snug--two cloths +to each. Two hundred pounds were secured. Three wheat-stacks +remained open, and there were no more cloths. Oak looked under the +staddles and found a fork. He mounted the third pile of wealth and +began operating, adopting the plan of sloping the upper sheaves one +over the other; and, in addition, filling the interstices with the +material of some untied sheaves. + +So far all was well. By this hurried contrivance Bathsheba's +property in wheat was safe for at any rate a week or two, provided +always that there was not much wind. + +Next came the barley. This it was only possible to protect by +systematic thatching. Time went on, and the moon vanished not to +reappear. It was the farewell of the ambassador previous to war. +The night had a haggard look, like a sick thing; and there came +finally an utter expiration of air from the whole heaven in the form +of a slow breeze, which might have been likened to a death. And now +nothing was heard in the yard but the dull thuds of the beetle which +drove in the spars, and the rustle of thatch in the intervals. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +THE STORM--THE TWO TOGETHER + + +A light flapped over the scene, as if reflected from phosphorescent +wings crossing the sky, and a rumble filled the air. It was the +first move of the approaching storm. + +The second peal was noisy, with comparatively little visible +lightning. Gabriel saw a candle shining in Bathsheba's bedroom, +and soon a shadow swept to and fro upon the blind. + +Then there came a third flash. Manoeuvres of a most extraordinary +kind were going on in the vast firmamental hollows overhead. The +lightning now was the colour of silver, and gleamed in the heavens +like a mailed army. Rumbles became rattles. Gabriel from his +elevated position could see over the landscape at least half-a-dozen +miles in front. Every hedge, bush, and tree was distinct as in a +line engraving. In a paddock in the same direction was a herd of +heifers, and the forms of these were visible at this moment in the +act of galloping about in the wildest and maddest confusion, flinging +their heels and tails high into the air, their heads to earth. +A poplar in the immediate foreground was like an ink stroke on +burnished tin. Then the picture vanished, leaving the darkness so +intense that Gabriel worked entirely by feeling with his hands. + +He had stuck his ricking-rod, or poniard, as it was indifferently +called--a long iron lance, polished by handling--into the stack, +used to support the sheaves instead of the support called a groom +used on houses. A blue light appeared in the zenith, and in some +indescribable manner flickered down near the top of the rod. It +was the fourth of the larger flashes. A moment later and there was +a smack--smart, clear, and short. Gabriel felt his position to be +anything but a safe one, and he resolved to descend. + +Not a drop of rain had fallen as yet. He wiped his weary brow, and +looked again at the black forms of the unprotected stacks. Was his +life so valuable to him after all? What were his prospects that he +should be so chary of running risk, when important and urgent labour +could not be carried on without such risk? He resolved to stick to +the stack. However, he took a precaution. Under the staddles was a +long tethering chain, used to prevent the escape of errant horses. +This he carried up the ladder, and sticking his rod through the clog +at one end, allowed the other end of the chain to trail upon the +ground. The spike attached to it he drove in. Under the shadow of +this extemporized lightning-conductor he felt himself comparatively +safe. + +Before Oak had laid his hands upon his tools again out leapt the +fifth flash, with the spring of a serpent and the shout of a fiend. +It was green as an emerald, and the reverberation was stunning. What +was this the light revealed to him? In the open ground before him, +as he looked over the ridge of the rick, was a dark and apparently +female form. Could it be that of the only venturesome woman in the +parish--Bathsheba? The form moved on a step: then he could see no +more. + +"Is that you, ma'am?" said Gabriel to the darkness. + +"Who is there?" said the voice of Bathsheba. + +"Gabriel. I am on the rick, thatching." + +"Oh, Gabriel!--and are you? I have come about them. The weather +awoke me, and I thought of the corn. I am so distressed about +it--can we save it anyhow? I cannot find my husband. Is he with +you?" + +"He is not here." + +"Do you know where he is?" + +"Asleep in the barn." + +"He promised that the stacks should be seen to, and now they are all +neglected! Can I do anything to help? Liddy is afraid to come out. +Fancy finding you here at such an hour! Surely I can do something?" + +"You can bring up some reed-sheaves to me, one by one, ma'am; if you +are not afraid to come up the ladder in the dark," said Gabriel. +"Every moment is precious now, and that would save a good deal of +time. It is not very dark when the lightning has been gone a bit." + +"I'll do anything!" she said, resolutely. She instantly took a sheaf +upon her shoulder, clambered up close to his heels, placed it behind +the rod, and descended for another. At her third ascent the rick +suddenly brightened with the brazen glare of shining majolica--every +knot in every straw was visible. On the slope in front of him +appeared two human shapes, black as jet. The rick lost its +sheen--the shapes vanished. Gabriel turned his head. It had been +the sixth flash which had come from the east behind him, and the two +dark forms on the slope had been the shadows of himself and +Bathsheba. + +Then came the peal. It hardly was credible that such a heavenly +light could be the parent of such a diabolical sound. + +"How terrible!" she exclaimed, and clutched him by the sleeve. +Gabriel turned, and steadied her on her aerial perch by holding +her arm. At the same moment, while he was still reversed in his +attitude, there was more light, and he saw, as it were, a copy of the +tall poplar tree on the hill drawn in black on the wall of the barn. +It was the shadow of that tree, thrown across by a secondary flash +in the west. + +The next flare came. Bathsheba was on the ground now, shouldering +another sheaf, and she bore its dazzle without flinching--thunder +and all--and again ascended with the load. There was then a silence +everywhere for four or five minutes, and the crunch of the spars, as +Gabriel hastily drove them in, could again be distinctly heard. He +thought the crisis of the storm had passed. But there came a burst +of light. + +"Hold on!" said Gabriel, taking the sheaf from her shoulder, and +grasping her arm again. + +Heaven opened then, indeed. The flash was almost too novel for its +inexpressibly dangerous nature to be at once realized, and they could +only comprehend the magnificence of its beauty. It sprang from +east, west, north, south, and was a perfect dance of death. The +forms of skeletons appeared in the air, shaped with blue fire for +bones--dancing, leaping, striding, racing around, and mingling +altogether in unparalleled confusion. With these were intertwined +undulating snakes of green, and behind these was a broad mass of +lesser light. Simultaneously came from every part of the tumbling +sky what may be called a shout; since, though no shout ever came +near it, it was more of the nature of a shout than of anything else +earthly. In the meantime one of the grisly forms had alighted upon +the point of Gabriel's rod, to run invisibly down it, down the chain, +and into the earth. Gabriel was almost blinded, and he could feel +Bathsheba's warm arm tremble in his hand--a sensation novel and +thrilling enough; but love, life, everything human, seemed small and +trifling in such close juxtaposition with an infuriated universe. + +Oak had hardly time to gather up these impressions into a thought, +and to see how strangely the red feather of her hat shone in this +light, when the tall tree on the hill before mentioned seemed on fire +to a white heat, and a new one among these terrible voices mingled +with the last crash of those preceding. It was a stupefying blast, +harsh and pitiless, and it fell upon their ears in a dead, flat blow, +without that reverberation which lends the tones of a drum to more +distant thunder. By the lustre reflected from every part of the +earth and from the wide domical scoop above it, he saw that the +tree was sliced down the whole length of its tall, straight stem, a +huge riband of bark being apparently flung off. The other portion +remained erect, and revealed the bared surface as a strip of white +down the front. The lightning had struck the tree. A sulphurous +smell filled the air; then all was silent, and black as a cave in +Hinnom. + +"We had a narrow escape!" said Gabriel, hurriedly. "You had better +go down." + +Bathsheba said nothing; but he could distinctly hear her rhythmical +pants, and the recurrent rustle of the sheaf beside her in response +to her frightened pulsations. She descended the ladder, and, on +second thoughts, he followed her. The darkness was now impenetrable +by the sharpest vision. They both stood still at the bottom, side by +side. Bathsheba appeared to think only of the weather--Oak thought +only of her just then. At last he said-- + +"The storm seems to have passed now, at any rate." + +"I think so too," said Bathsheba. "Though there are multitudes of +gleams, look!" + +The sky was now filled with an incessant light, frequent repetition +melting into complete continuity, as an unbroken sound results from +the successive strokes on a gong. + +"Nothing serious," said he. "I cannot understand no rain falling. +But Heaven be praised, it is all the better for us. I am now going +up again." + +"Gabriel, you are kinder than I deserve! I will stay and help you +yet. Oh, why are not some of the others here!" + +"They would have been here if they could," said Oak, in a hesitating +way. + +"O, I know it all--all," she said, adding slowly: "They are all +asleep in the barn, in a drunken sleep, and my husband among them. +That's it, is it not? Don't think I am a timid woman and can't +endure things." + +"I am not certain," said Gabriel. "I will go and see." + +He crossed to the barn, leaving her there alone. He looked through +the chinks of the door. All was in total darkness, as he had left +it, and there still arose, as at the former time, the steady buzz of +many snores. + +He felt a zephyr curling about his cheek, and turned. It was +Bathsheba's breath--she had followed him, and was looking into the +same chink. + +He endeavoured to put off the immediate and painful subject of +their thoughts by remarking gently, "If you'll come back again, +miss--ma'am, and hand up a few more; it would save much time." + +Then Oak went back again, ascended to the top, stepped off the ladder +for greater expedition, and went on thatching. She followed, but +without a sheaf. + +"Gabriel," she said, in a strange and impressive voice. + +Oak looked up at her. She had not spoken since he left the barn. +The soft and continual shimmer of the dying lightning showed a marble +face high against the black sky of the opposite quarter. Bathsheba +was sitting almost on the apex of the stack, her feet gathered up +beneath her, and resting on the top round of the ladder. + +"Yes, mistress," he said. + +"I suppose you thought that when I galloped away to Bath that night +it was on purpose to be married?" + +"I did at last--not at first," he answered, somewhat surprised at the +abruptness with which this new subject was broached. + +"And others thought so, too?" + +"Yes." + +"And you blamed me for it?" + +"Well--a little." + +"I thought so. Now, I care a little for your good opinion, and +I want to explain something--I have longed to do it ever since I +returned, and you looked so gravely at me. For if I were to die--and +I may die soon--it would be dreadful that you should always think +mistakenly of me. Now, listen." + +Gabriel ceased his rustling. + +"I went to Bath that night in the full intention of breaking off my +engagement to Mr. Troy. It was owing to circumstances which occurred +after I got there that--that we were married. Now, do you see the +matter in a new light?" + +"I do--somewhat." + +"I must, I suppose, say more, now that I have begun. And perhaps +it's no harm, for you are certainly under no delusion that I ever +loved you, or that I can have any object in speaking, more than that +object I have mentioned. Well, I was alone in a strange city, and +the horse was lame. And at last I didn't know what to do. I saw, +when it was too late, that scandal might seize hold of me for meeting +him alone in that way. But I was coming away, when he suddenly said +he had that day seen a woman more beautiful than I, and that his +constancy could not be counted on unless I at once became his.... +And I was grieved and troubled--" She cleared her voice, and waited +a moment, as if to gather breath. "And then, between jealousy +and distraction, I married him!" she whispered with desperate +impetuosity. + +Gabriel made no reply. + +"He was not to blame, for it was perfectly true about--about his +seeing somebody else," she quickly added. "And now I don't wish for +a single remark from you upon the subject--indeed, I forbid it. I +only wanted you to know that misunderstood bit of my history before +a time comes when you could never know it.--You want some more +sheaves?" + +She went down the ladder, and the work proceeded. Gabriel soon +perceived a languor in the movements of his mistress up and down, and +he said to her, gently as a mother-- + +"I think you had better go indoors now, you are tired. I can finish +the rest alone. If the wind does not change the rain is likely to +keep off." + +"If I am useless I will go," said Bathsheba, in a flagging cadence. +"But O, if your life should be lost!" + +"You are not useless; but I would rather not tire you longer. You +have done well." + +"And you better!" she said, gratefully. "Thank you for your +devotion, a thousand times, Gabriel! Goodnight--I know you are doing +your very best for me." + +She diminished in the gloom, and vanished, and he heard the latch +of the gate fall as she passed through. He worked in a reverie +now, musing upon her story, and upon the contradictoriness of that +feminine heart which had caused her to speak more warmly to him +to-night than she ever had done whilst unmarried and free to speak +as warmly as she chose. + +He was disturbed in his meditation by a grating noise from the +coach-house. It was the vane on the roof turning round, and this +change in the wind was the signal for a disastrous rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +RAIN--ONE SOLITARY MEETS ANOTHER + + +It was now five o'clock, and the dawn was promising to break in hues +of drab and ash. + +The air changed its temperature and stirred itself more vigorously. +Cool breezes coursed in transparent eddies round Oak's face. The +wind shifted yet a point or two and blew stronger. In ten minutes +every wind of heaven seemed to be roaming at large. Some of the +thatching on the wheat-stacks was now whirled fantastically aloft, +and had to be replaced and weighted with some rails that lay near at +hand. This done, Oak slaved away again at the barley. A huge drop +of rain smote his face, the wind snarled round every corner, the +trees rocked to the bases of their trunks, and the twigs clashed in +strife. Driving in spars at any point and on any system, inch by +inch he covered more and more safely from ruin this distracting +impersonation of seven hundred pounds. The rain came on in earnest, +and Oak soon felt the water to be tracking cold and clammy routes +down his back. Ultimately he was reduced well-nigh to a homogeneous +sop, and the dyes of his clothes trickled down and stood in a pool +at the foot of the ladder. The rain stretched obliquely through the +dull atmosphere in liquid spines, unbroken in continuity between +their beginnings in the clouds and their points in him. + +Oak suddenly remembered that eight months before this time he had +been fighting against fire in the same spot as desperately as he +was fighting against water now--and for a futile love of the same +woman. As for her--But Oak was generous and true, and dismissed +his reflections. + +It was about seven o'clock in the dark leaden morning when Gabriel +came down from the last stack, and thankfully exclaimed, "It is +done!" He was drenched, weary, and sad, and yet not so sad as +drenched and weary, for he was cheered by a sense of success in a +good cause. + +Faint sounds came from the barn, and he looked that way. Figures +stepped singly and in pairs through the doors--all walking awkwardly, +and abashed, save the foremost, who wore a red jacket, and advanced +with his hands in his pockets, whistling. The others shambled after +with a conscience-stricken air: the whole procession was not unlike +Flaxman's group of the suitors tottering on towards the infernal +regions under the conduct of Mercury. The gnarled shapes passed +into the village, Troy, their leader, entering the farmhouse. Not a +single one of them had turned his face to the ricks, or apparently +bestowed one thought upon their condition. + +Soon Oak too went homeward, by a different route from theirs. In +front of him against the wet glazed surface of the lane he saw a +person walking yet more slowly than himself under an umbrella. The +man turned and plainly started; he was Boldwood. + +"How are you this morning, sir?" said Oak. + +"Yes, it is a wet day.--Oh, I am well, very well, I thank you; quite +well." + +"I am glad to hear it, sir." + +Boldwood seemed to awake to the present by degrees. "You look tired +and ill, Oak," he said then, desultorily regarding his companion. + +"I am tired. You look strangely altered, sir." + +"I? Not a bit of it: I am well enough. What put that into your +head?" + +"I thought you didn't look quite so topping as you used to, that was +all." + +"Indeed, then you are mistaken," said Boldwood, shortly. "Nothing +hurts me. My constitution is an iron one." + +"I've been working hard to get our ricks covered, and was barely in +time. Never had such a struggle in my life.... Yours of course are +safe, sir." + +"Oh yes," Boldwood added, after an interval of silence: "What did you +ask, Oak?" + +"Your ricks are all covered before this time?" + +"No." + +"At any rate, the large ones upon the stone staddles?" + +"They are not." + +"Them under the hedge?" + +"No. I forgot to tell the thatcher to set about it." + +"Nor the little one by the stile?" + +"Nor the little one by the stile. I overlooked the ricks this year." + +"Then not a tenth of your corn will come to measure, sir." + +"Possibly not." + +"Overlooked them," repeated Gabriel slowly to himself. It is +difficult to describe the intensely dramatic effect that announcement +had upon Oak at such a moment. All the night he had been feeling +that the neglect he was labouring to repair was abnormal and +isolated--the only instance of the kind within the circuit of the +county. Yet at this very time, within the same parish, a greater +waste had been going on, uncomplained of and disregarded. A few +months earlier Boldwood's forgetting his husbandry would have been as +preposterous an idea as a sailor forgetting he was in a ship. Oak +was just thinking that whatever he himself might have suffered from +Bathsheba's marriage, here was a man who had suffered more, when +Boldwood spoke in a changed voice--that of one who yearned to make +a confidence and relieve his heart by an outpouring. + +"Oak, you know as well as I that things have gone wrong with me +lately. I may as well own it. I was going to get a little settled +in life; but in some way my plan has come to nothing." + +"I thought my mistress would have married you," said Gabriel, not +knowing enough of the full depths of Boldwood's love to keep silence +on the farmer's account, and determined not to evade discipline by +doing so on his own. "However, it is so sometimes, and nothing +happens that we expect," he added, with the repose of a man whom +misfortune had inured rather than subdued. + +"I daresay I am a joke about the parish," said Boldwood, as if +the subject came irresistibly to his tongue, and with a miserable +lightness meant to express his indifference. + +"Oh no--I don't think that." + +"--But the real truth of the matter is that there was not, as some +fancy, any jilting on--her part. No engagement ever existed between +me and Miss Everdene. People say so, but it is untrue: she never +promised me!" Boldwood stood still now and turned his wild face to +Oak. "Oh, Gabriel," he continued, "I am weak and foolish, and I +don't know what, and I can't fend off my miserable grief! ... I had +some faint belief in the mercy of God till I lost that woman. Yes, +He prepared a gourd to shade me, and like the prophet I thanked Him +and was glad. But the next day He prepared a worm to smite the gourd +and wither it; and I feel it is better to die than to live!" + +A silence followed. Boldwood aroused himself from the momentary +mood of confidence into which he had drifted, and walked on again, +resuming his usual reserve. + +"No, Gabriel," he resumed, with a carelessness which was like +the smile on the countenance of a skull: "it was made more of by +other people than ever it was by us. I do feel a little regret +occasionally, but no woman ever had power over me for any length of +time. Well, good morning; I can trust you not to mention to others +what has passed between us two here." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +COMING HOME--A CRY + + +On the turnpike road, between Casterbridge and Weatherbury, and about +three miles from the former place, is Yalbury Hill, one of those +steep long ascents which pervade the highways of this undulating +part of South Wessex. In returning from market it is usual for the +farmers and other gig-gentry to alight at the bottom and walk up. + +One Saturday evening in the month of October Bathsheba's vehicle was +duly creeping up this incline. She was sitting listlessly in the +second seat of the gig, whilst walking beside her in a farmer's +marketing suit of unusually fashionable cut was an erect, well-made +young man. Though on foot, he held the reins and whip, and +occasionally aimed light cuts at the horse's ear with the end of the +lash, as a recreation. This man was her husband, formerly Sergeant +Troy, who, having bought his discharge with Bathsheba's money, was +gradually transforming himself into a farmer of a spirited and very +modern school. People of unalterable ideas still insisted upon +calling him "Sergeant" when they met him, which was in some degree +owing to his having still retained the well-shaped moustache of his +military days, and the soldierly bearing inseparable from his form +and training. + +"Yes, if it hadn't been for that wretched rain I should have cleared +two hundred as easy as looking, my love," he was saying. "Don't you +see, it altered all the chances? To speak like a book I once read, +wet weather is the narrative, and fine days are the episodes, of our +country's history; now, isn't that true?" + +"But the time of year is come for changeable weather." + +"Well, yes. The fact is, these autumn races are the ruin of +everybody. Never did I see such a day as 'twas! 'Tis a wild open +place, just out of Budmouth, and a drab sea rolled in towards us like +liquid misery. Wind and rain--good Lord! Dark? Why, 'twas as black +as my hat before the last race was run. 'Twas five o'clock, and +you couldn't see the horses till they were almost in, leave alone +colours. The ground was as heavy as lead, and all judgment from a +fellow's experience went for nothing. Horses, riders, people, were +all blown about like ships at sea. Three booths were blown over, +and the wretched folk inside crawled out upon their hands and knees; +and in the next field were as many as a dozen hats at one time. Ay, +Pimpernel regularly stuck fast, when about sixty yards off, and when +I saw Policy stepping on, it did knock my heart against the lining +of my ribs, I assure you, my love!" + +"And you mean, Frank," said Bathsheba, sadly--her voice was painfully +lowered from the fulness and vivacity of the previous summer--"that +you have lost more than a hundred pounds in a month by this dreadful +horse-racing? O, Frank, it is cruel; it is foolish of you to take +away my money so. We shall have to leave the farm; that will be the +end of it!" + +"Humbug about cruel. Now, there 'tis again--turn on the waterworks; +that's just like you." + +"But you'll promise me not to go to Budmouth second meeting, won't +you?" she implored. Bathsheba was at the full depth for tears, but +she maintained a dry eye. + +"I don't see why I should; in fact, if it turns out to be a fine day, +I was thinking of taking you." + +"Never, never! I'll go a hundred miles the other way first. I hate +the sound of the very word!" + +"But the question of going to see the race or staying at home has +very little to do with the matter. Bets are all booked safely enough +before the race begins, you may depend. Whether it is a bad race for +me or a good one, will have very little to do with our going there +next Monday." + +"But you don't mean to say that you have risked anything on this one +too!" she exclaimed, with an agonized look. + +"There now, don't you be a little fool. Wait till you are told. +Why, Bathsheba, you have lost all the pluck and sauciness you +formerly had, and upon my life if I had known what a chicken-hearted +creature you were under all your boldness, I'd never have--I know +what." + +A flash of indignation might have been seen in Bathsheba's dark eyes +as she looked resolutely ahead after this reply. They moved on +without further speech, some early-withered leaves from the trees +which hooded the road at this spot occasionally spinning downward +across their path to the earth. + +A woman appeared on the brow of the hill. The ridge was in a +cutting, so that she was very near the husband and wife before she +became visible. Troy had turned towards the gig to remount, and +whilst putting his foot on the step the woman passed behind him. + +Though the overshadowing trees and the approach of eventide enveloped +them in gloom, Bathsheba could see plainly enough to discern the +extreme poverty of the woman's garb, and the sadness of her face. + +"Please, sir, do you know at what time Casterbridge Union-house +closes at night?" + +The woman said these words to Troy over his shoulder. + +Troy started visibly at the sound of the voice; yet he seemed to +recover presence of mind sufficient to prevent himself from giving +way to his impulse to suddenly turn and face her. He said, slowly-- + +"I don't know." + +The woman, on hearing him speak, quickly looked up, examined the side +of his face, and recognized the soldier under the yeoman's garb. Her +face was drawn into an expression which had gladness and agony both +among its elements. She uttered an hysterical cry, and fell down. + +"Oh, poor thing!" exclaimed Bathsheba, instantly preparing to alight. + +"Stay where you are, and attend to the horse!" said Troy, +peremptorily throwing her the reins and the whip. "Walk the horse +to the top: I'll see to the woman." + +"But I--" + +"Do you hear? Clk--Poppet!" + +The horse, gig, and Bathsheba moved on. + +"How on earth did you come here? I thought you were miles away, or +dead! Why didn't you write to me?" said Troy to the woman, in a +strangely gentle, yet hurried voice, as he lifted her up. + +"I feared to." + +"Have you any money?" + +"None." + +"Good Heaven--I wish I had more to give you! Here's--wretched--the +merest trifle. It is every farthing I have left. I have none but +what my wife gives me, you know, and I can't ask her now." + +The woman made no answer. + +"I have only another moment," continued Troy; "and now listen. Where +are you going to-night? Casterbridge Union?" + +"Yes; I thought to go there." + +"You shan't go there; yet, wait. Yes, perhaps for to-night; I can +do nothing better--worse luck! Sleep there to-night, and stay there +to-morrow. Monday is the first free day I have; and on Monday +morning, at ten exactly, meet me on Grey's Bridge just out of the +town. I'll bring all the money I can muster. You shan't want--I'll +see that, Fanny; then I'll get you a lodging somewhere. Good-bye +till then. I am a brute--but good-bye!" + +After advancing the distance which completed the ascent of the +hill, Bathsheba turned her head. The woman was upon her feet, and +Bathsheba saw her withdrawing from Troy, and going feebly down the +hill by the third milestone from Casterbridge. Troy then came on +towards his wife, stepped into the gig, took the reins from her hand, +and without making any observation whipped the horse into a trot. He +was rather agitated. + +"Do you know who that woman was?" said Bathsheba, looking searchingly +into his face. + +"I do," he said, looking boldly back into hers. + +"I thought you did," said she, with angry hauteur, and still +regarding him. "Who is she?" + +He suddenly seemed to think that frankness would benefit neither of +the women. + +"Nothing to either of us," he said. "I know her by sight." + +"What is her name?" + +"How should I know her name?" + +"I think you do." + +"Think if you will, and be--" The sentence was completed by a smart +cut of the whip round Poppet's flank, which caused the animal to +start forward at a wild pace. No more was said. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +ON CASTERBRIDGE HIGHWAY + + +For a considerable time the woman walked on. Her steps became +feebler, and she strained her eyes to look afar upon the naked road, +now indistinct amid the penumbræ of night. At length her onward walk +dwindled to the merest totter, and she opened a gate within which was +a haystack. Underneath this she sat down and presently slept. + +When the woman awoke it was to find herself in the depths of a +moonless and starless night. A heavy unbroken crust of cloud +stretched across the sky, shutting out every speck of heaven; and a +distant halo which hung over the town of Casterbridge was visible +against the black concave, the luminosity appearing the brighter by +its great contrast with the circumscribing darkness. Towards this +weak, soft glow the woman turned her eyes. + +"If I could only get there!" she said. "Meet him the day after +to-morrow: God help me! Perhaps I shall be in my grave before then." + +A manor-house clock from the far depths of shadow struck the hour, +one, in a small, attenuated tone. After midnight the voice of a +clock seems to lose in breadth as much as in length, and to diminish +its sonorousness to a thin falsetto. + +Afterwards a light--two lights--arose from the remote shade, and grew +larger. A carriage rolled along the road, and passed the gate. It +probably contained some late diners-out. The beams from one lamp +shone for a moment upon the crouching woman, and threw her face into +vivid relief. The face was young in the groundwork, old in the +finish; the general contours were flexuous and childlike, but the +finer lineaments had begun to be sharp and thin. + +The pedestrian stood up, apparently with revived determination, and +looked around. The road appeared to be familiar to her, and she +carefully scanned the fence as she slowly walked along. Presently +there became visible a dim white shape; it was another milestone. +She drew her fingers across its face to feel the marks. + +"Two more!" she said. + +She leant against the stone as a means of rest for a short interval, +then bestirred herself, and again pursued her way. For a slight +distance she bore up bravely, afterwards flagging as before. This +was beside a lone copsewood, wherein heaps of white chips strewn upon +the leafy ground showed that woodmen had been faggoting and making +hurdles during the day. Now there was not a rustle, not a breeze, +not the faintest clash of twigs to keep her company. The woman +looked over the gate, opened it, and went in. Close to the entrance +stood a row of faggots, bound and un-bound, together with stakes of +all sizes. + +For a few seconds the wayfarer stood with that tense stillness which +signifies itself to be not the end, but merely the suspension, of +a previous motion. Her attitude was that of a person who listens, +either to the external world of sound, or to the imagined discourse +of thought. A close criticism might have detected signs proving that +she was intent on the latter alternative. Moreover, as was shown by +what followed, she was oddly exercising the faculty of invention upon +the speciality of the clever Jacquet Droz, the designer of automatic +substitutes for human limbs. + +By the aid of the Casterbridge aurora, and by feeling with her hands, +the woman selected two sticks from the heaps. These sticks were +nearly straight to the height of three or four feet, where each +branched into a fork like the letter Y. She sat down, snapped off +the small upper twigs, and carried the remainder with her into the +road. She placed one of these forks under each arm as a crutch, +tested them, timidly threw her whole weight upon them--so little that +it was--and swung herself forward. The girl had made for herself a +material aid. + +The crutches answered well. The pat of her feet, and the tap of +her sticks upon the highway, were all the sounds that came from +the traveller now. She had passed the last milestone by a good +long distance, and began to look wistfully towards the bank as if +calculating upon another milestone soon. The crutches, though so +very useful, had their limits of power. Mechanism only transfers +labour, being powerless to supersede it, and the original amount of +exertion was not cleared away; it was thrown into the body and arms. +She was exhausted, and each swing forward became fainter. At last +she swayed sideways, and fell. + +Here she lay, a shapeless heap, for ten minutes and more. The +morning wind began to boom dully over the flats, and to move afresh +dead leaves which had lain still since yesterday. The woman +desperately turned round upon her knees, and next rose to her feet. +Steadying herself by the help of one crutch, she essayed a step, then +another, then a third, using the crutches now as walking-sticks only. +Thus she progressed till descending Mellstock Hill another milestone +appeared, and soon the beginning of an iron-railed fence came into +view. She staggered across to the first post, clung to it, and +looked around. + +The Casterbridge lights were now individually visible. It was getting +towards morning, and vehicles might be hoped for, if not expected +soon. She listened. There was not a sound of life save that acme +and sublimation of all dismal sounds, the bark of a fox, its three +hollow notes being rendered at intervals of a minute with the +precision of a funeral bell. + +"Less than a mile!" the woman murmured. "No; more," she added, after +a pause. "The mile is to the county hall, and my resting-place is on +the other side Casterbridge. A little over a mile, and there I am!" +After an interval she again spoke. "Five or six steps to a yard--six +perhaps. I have to go seventeen hundred yards. A hundred times six, +six hundred. Seventeen times that. O pity me, Lord!" + +Holding to the rails, she advanced, thrusting one hand forward upon +the rail, then the other, then leaning over it whilst she dragged her +feet on beneath. + +This woman was not given to soliloquy; but extremity of feeling +lessens the individuality of the weak, as it increases that of the +strong. She said again in the same tone, "I'll believe that the end +lies five posts forward, and no further, and so get strength to pass +them." + +This was a practical application of the principle that a half-feigned +and fictitious faith is better than no faith at all. + +She passed five posts and held on to the fifth. + +"I'll pass five more by believing my longed-for spot is at the next +fifth. I can do it." + +She passed five more. + +"It lies only five further." + +She passed five more. + +"But it is five further." + +She passed them. + +"That stone bridge is the end of my journey," she said, when the +bridge over the Froom was in view. + +She crawled to the bridge. During the effort each breath of the +woman went into the air as if never to return again. + +"Now for the truth of the matter," she said, sitting down. "The +truth is, that I have less than half a mile." Self-beguilement with +what she had known all the time to be false had given her strength to +come over half a mile that she would have been powerless to face in +the lump. The artifice showed that the woman, by some mysterious +intuition, had grasped the paradoxical truth that blindness may +operate more vigorously than prescience, and the short-sighted effect +more than the far-seeing; that limitation, and not comprehensiveness, +is needed for striking a blow. + +The half-mile stood now before the sick and weary woman like a stolid +Juggernaut. It was an impassive King of her world. The road here +ran across Durnover Moor, open to the road on either side. She +surveyed the wide space, the lights, herself, sighed, and lay down +against a guard-stone of the bridge. + +Never was ingenuity exercised so sorely as the traveller here +exercised hers. Every conceivable aid, method, stratagem, mechanism, +by which these last desperate eight hundred yards could be overpassed +by a human being unperceived, was revolved in her busy brain, +and dismissed as impracticable. She thought of sticks, wheels, +crawling--she even thought of rolling. But the exertion demanded +by either of these latter two was greater than to walk erect. The +faculty of contrivance was worn out. Hopelessness had come at last. + +"No further!" she whispered, and closed her eyes. + +From the stripe of shadow on the opposite side of the bridge a +portion of shade seemed to detach itself and move into isolation +upon the pale white of the road. It glided noiselessly towards the +recumbent woman. + +She became conscious of something touching her hand; it was softness +and it was warmth. She opened her eyes, and the substance touched +her face. A dog was licking her cheek. + +He was a huge, heavy, and quiet creature, standing darkly against the +low horizon, and at least two feet higher than the present position +of her eyes. Whether Newfoundland, mastiff, bloodhound, or what +not, it was impossible to say. He seemed to be of too strange and +mysterious a nature to belong to any variety among those of popular +nomenclature. Being thus assignable to no breed, he was the ideal +embodiment of canine greatness--a generalization from what was common +to all. Night, in its sad, solemn, and benevolent aspect, apart from +its stealthy and cruel side, was personified in this form. Darkness +endows the small and ordinary ones among mankind with poetical power, +and even the suffering woman threw her idea into figure. + +In her reclining position she looked up to him just as in earlier +times she had, when standing, looked up to a man. The animal, who +was as homeless as she, respectfully withdrew a step or two when the +woman moved, and, seeing that she did not repulse him, he licked her +hand again. + +A thought moved within her like lightning. "Perhaps I can make use +of him--I might do it then!" + +She pointed in the direction of Casterbridge, and the dog seemed to +misunderstand: he trotted on. Then, finding she could not follow, he +came back and whined. + +The ultimate and saddest singularity of woman's effort and invention +was reached when, with a quickened breathing, she rose to a stooping +posture, and, resting her two little arms upon the shoulders of the +dog, leant firmly thereon, and murmured stimulating words. Whilst +she sorrowed in her heart she cheered with her voice, and what was +stranger than that the strong should need encouragement from the weak +was that cheerfulness should be so well stimulated by such utter +dejection. Her friend moved forward slowly, and she with small +mincing steps moved forward beside him, half her weight being thrown +upon the animal. Sometimes she sank as she had sunk from walking +erect, from the crutches, from the rails. The dog, who now +thoroughly understood her desire and her incapacity, was frantic in +his distress on these occasions; he would tug at her dress and run +forward. She always called him back, and it was now to be observed +that the woman listened for human sounds only to avoid them. It was +evident that she had an object in keeping her presence on the road +and her forlorn state unknown. + +Their progress was necessarily very slow. They reached the bottom +of the town, and the Casterbridge lamps lay before them like fallen +Pleiads as they turned to the left into the dense shade of a deserted +avenue of chestnuts, and so skirted the borough. Thus the town was +passed, and the goal was reached. + +On this much-desired spot outside the town rose a picturesque +building. Originally it had been a mere case to hold people. The +shell had been so thin, so devoid of excrescence, and so closely +drawn over the accommodation granted, that the grim character of what +was beneath showed through it, as the shape of a body is visible +under a winding-sheet. + +Then Nature, as if offended, lent a hand. Masses of ivy grew up, +completely covering the walls, till the place looked like an abbey; +and it was discovered that the view from the front, over the +Casterbridge chimneys, was one of the most magnificent in the +county. A neighbouring earl once said that he would give up a year's +rental to have at his own door the view enjoyed by the inmates from +theirs--and very probably the inmates would have given up the view +for his year's rental. + +This stone edifice consisted of a central mass and two wings, whereon +stood as sentinels a few slim chimneys, now gurgling sorrowfully to +the slow wind. In the wall was a gate, and by the gate a bellpull +formed of a hanging wire. The woman raised herself as high as +possible upon her knees, and could just reach the handle. She moved +it and fell forwards in a bowed attitude, her face upon her bosom. + +It was getting on towards six o'clock, and sounds of movement were +to be heard inside the building which was the haven of rest to this +wearied soul. A little door by the large one was opened, and a man +appeared inside. He discerned the panting heap of clothes, went back +for a light, and came again. He entered a second time, and returned +with two women. + +These lifted the prostrate figure and assisted her in through the +doorway. The man then closed the door. + +"How did she get here?" said one of the women. + +"The Lord knows," said the other. + +"There is a dog outside," murmured the overcome traveller. "Where is +he gone? He helped me." + +"I stoned him away," said the man. + +The little procession then moved forward--the man in front bearing +the light, the two bony women next, supporting between them the small +and supple one. Thus they entered the house and disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SUSPICION--FANNY IS SENT FOR + + +Bathsheba said very little to her husband all that evening of their +return from market, and he was not disposed to say much to her. He +exhibited the unpleasant combination of a restless condition with a +silent tongue. The next day, which was Sunday, passed nearly in the +same manner as regarded their taciturnity, Bathsheba going to church +both morning and afternoon. This was the day before the Budmouth +races. In the evening Troy said, suddenly-- + +"Bathsheba, could you let me have twenty pounds?" + +Her countenance instantly sank. "Twenty pounds?" she said. + +"The fact is, I want it badly." The anxiety upon Troy's face was +unusual and very marked. It was a culmination of the mood he had +been in all the day. + +"Ah! for those races to-morrow." + +Troy for the moment made no reply. Her mistake had its advantages +to a man who shrank from having his mind inspected as he did now. +"Well, suppose I do want it for races?" he said, at last. + +"Oh, Frank!" Bathsheba replied, and there was such a volume of +entreaty in the words. "Only such a few weeks ago you said that I +was far sweeter than all your other pleasures put together, and that +you would give them all up for me; and now, won't you give up this +one, which is more a worry than a pleasure? Do, Frank. Come, let +me fascinate you by all I can do--by pretty words and pretty looks, +and everything I can think of--to stay at home. Say yes to your +wife--say yes!" + +The tenderest and softest phases of Bathsheba's nature were prominent +now--advanced impulsively for his acceptance, without any of the +disguises and defences which the wariness of her character when she +was cool too frequently threw over them. Few men could have resisted +the arch yet dignified entreaty of the beautiful face, thrown a +little back and sideways in the well known attitude that expresses +more than the words it accompanies, and which seems to have been +designed for these special occasions. Had the woman not been his +wife, Troy would have succumbed instantly; as it was, he thought he +would not deceive her longer. + +"The money is not wanted for racing debts at all," he said. + +"What is it for?" she asked. "You worry me a great deal by these +mysterious responsibilities, Frank." + +Troy hesitated. He did not now love her enough to allow himself +to be carried too far by her ways. Yet it was necessary to be +civil. "You wrong me by such a suspicious manner," he said. "Such +strait-waistcoating as you treat me to is not becoming in you at so +early a date." + +"I think that I have a right to grumble a little if I pay," she said, +with features between a smile and a pout. + +"Exactly; and, the former being done, suppose we proceed to the +latter. Bathsheba, fun is all very well, but don't go too far, or +you may have cause to regret something." + +She reddened. "I do that already," she said, quickly. + +"What do you regret?" + +"That my romance has come to an end." + +"All romances end at marriage." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that. You grieve me to my soul by +being smart at my expense." + +"You are dull enough at mine. I believe you hate me." + +"Not you--only your faults. I do hate them." + +"'Twould be much more becoming if you set yourself to cure them. +Come, let's strike a balance with the twenty pounds, and be friends." + +She gave a sigh of resignation. "I have about that sum here for +household expenses. If you must have it, take it." + +"Very good. Thank you. I expect I shall have gone away before you +are in to breakfast to-morrow." + +"And must you go? Ah! there was a time, Frank, when it would have +taken a good many promises to other people to drag you away from me. +You used to call me darling, then. But it doesn't matter to you how +my days are passed now." + +"I must go, in spite of sentiment." Troy, as he spoke, looked at his +watch, and, apparently actuated by _non lucendo_ principles, opened +the case at the back, revealing, snugly stowed within it, a small +coil of hair. + +Bathsheba's eyes had been accidentally lifted at that moment, and she +saw the action and saw the hair. She flushed in pain and surprise, +and some words escaped her before she had thought whether or not it +was wise to utter them. "A woman's curl of hair!" she said. "Oh, +Frank, whose is that?" + +Troy had instantly closed his watch. He carelessly replied, as one +who cloaked some feelings that the sight had stirred. "Why, yours, +of course. Whose should it be? I had quite forgotten that I had +it." + +"What a dreadful fib, Frank!" + +"I tell you I had forgotten it!" he said, loudly. + +"I don't mean that--it was yellow hair." + +"Nonsense." + +"That's insulting me. I know it was yellow. Now whose was it? I +want to know." + +"Very well--I'll tell you, so make no more ado. It is the hair of a +young woman I was going to marry before I knew you." + +"You ought to tell me her name, then." + +"I cannot do that." + +"Is she married yet?" + +"No." + +"Is she alive?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"Yes." + +"It is wonderful how she can be, poor thing, under such an awful +affliction!" + +"Affliction--what affliction?" he inquired, quickly. + +"Having hair of that dreadful colour." + +"Oh--ho--I like that!" said Troy, recovering himself. "Why, her hair +has been admired by everybody who has seen her since she has worn it +loose, which has not been long. It is beautiful hair. People used +to turn their heads to look at it, poor girl!" + +"Pooh! that's nothing--that's nothing!" she exclaimed, in incipient +accents of pique. "If I cared for your love as much as I used to I +could say people had turned to look at mine." + +"Bathsheba, don't be so fitful and jealous. You knew what married +life would be like, and shouldn't have entered it if you feared these +contingencies." + +Troy had by this time driven her to bitterness: her heart was big in +her throat, and the ducts to her eyes were painfully full. Ashamed +as she was to show emotion, at last she burst out:-- + +"This is all I get for loving you so well! Ah! when I married you +your life was dearer to me than my own. I would have died for +you--how truly I can say that I would have died for you! And now +you sneer at my foolishness in marrying you. O! is it kind to me to +throw my mistake in my face? Whatever opinion you may have of my +wisdom, you should not tell me of it so mercilessly, now that I am +in your power." + +"I can't help how things fall out," said Troy; "upon my heart, women +will be the death of me!" + +"Well you shouldn't keep people's hair. You'll burn it, won't you, +Frank?" + +Frank went on as if he had not heard her. "There are considerations +even before my consideration for you; reparations to be made--ties +you know nothing of. If you repent of marrying, so do I." + +Trembling now, she put her hand upon his arm, saying, in mingled +tones of wretchedness and coaxing, "I only repent it if you don't +love me better than any woman in the world! I don't otherwise, +Frank. You don't repent because you already love somebody better +than you love me, do you?" + +"I don't know. Why do you say that?" + +"You won't burn that curl. You like the woman who owns that pretty +hair--yes; it is pretty--more beautiful than my miserable black mane! +Well, it is no use; I can't help being ugly. You must like her best, +if you will!" + +"Until to-day, when I took it from a drawer, I have never looked upon +that bit of hair for several months--that I am ready to swear." + +"But just now you said 'ties'; and then--that woman we met?" + +"'Twas the meeting with her that reminded me of the hair." + +"Is it hers, then?" + +"Yes. There, now that you have wormed it out of me, I hope you are +content." + +"And what are the ties?" + +"Oh! that meant nothing--a mere jest." + +"A mere jest!" she said, in mournful astonishment. "Can you jest +when I am so wretchedly in earnest? Tell me the truth, Frank. I +am not a fool, you know, although I am a woman, and have my woman's +moments. Come! treat me fairly," she said, looking honestly and +fearlessly into his face. "I don't want much; bare justice--that's +all! Ah! once I felt I could be content with nothing less than the +highest homage from the husband I should choose. Now, anything +short of cruelty will content me. Yes! the independent and spirited +Bathsheba is come to this!" + +"For Heaven's sake don't be so desperate!" Troy said, snappishly, +rising as he did so, and leaving the room. + +Directly he had gone, Bathsheba burst into great sobs--dry-eyed sobs, +which cut as they came, without any softening by tears. But she +determined to repress all evidences of feeling. She was conquered; +but she would never own it as long as she lived. Her pride was +indeed brought low by despairing discoveries of her spoliation by +marriage with a less pure nature than her own. She chafed to and fro +in rebelliousness, like a caged leopard; her whole soul was in arms, +and the blood fired her face. Until she had met Troy, Bathsheba had +been proud of her position as a woman; it had been a glory to her to +know that her lips had been touched by no man's on earth--that her +waist had never been encircled by a lover's arm. She hated herself +now. In those earlier days she had always nourished a secret +contempt for girls who were the slaves of the first good-looking +young fellow who should choose to salute them. She had never taken +kindly to the idea of marriage in the abstract as did the majority of +women she saw about her. In the turmoil of her anxiety for her lover +she had agreed to marry him; but the perception that had accompanied +her happiest hours on this account was rather that of self-sacrifice +than of promotion and honour. Although she scarcely knew the +divinity's name, Diana was the goddess whom Bathsheba instinctively +adored. That she had never, by look, word, or sign, encouraged a man +to approach her--that she had felt herself sufficient to herself, +and had in the independence of her girlish heart fancied there was +a certain degradation in renouncing the simplicity of a maiden +existence to become the humbler half of an indifferent matrimonial +whole--were facts now bitterly remembered. Oh, if she had never +stooped to folly of this kind, respectable as it was, and could only +stand again, as she had stood on the hill at Norcombe, and dare Troy +or any other man to pollute a hair of her head by his interference! + +The next morning she rose earlier than usual, and had the horse +saddled for her ride round the farm in the customary way. When she +came in at half-past eight--their usual hour for breakfasting--she +was informed that her husband had risen, taken his breakfast, and +driven off to Casterbridge with the gig and Poppet. + +After breakfast she was cool and collected--quite herself in +fact--and she rambled to the gate, intending to walk to another +quarter of the farm, which she still personally superintended as +well as her duties in the house would permit, continually, however, +finding herself preceded in forethought by Gabriel Oak, for whom she +began to entertain the genuine friendship of a sister. Of course, +she sometimes thought of him in the light of an old lover, and had +momentary imaginings of what life with him as a husband would have +been like; also of life with Boldwood under the same conditions. +But Bathsheba, though she could feel, was not much given to futile +dreaming, and her musings under this head were short and entirely +confined to the times when Troy's neglect was more than ordinarily +evident. + +She saw coming up the road a man like Mr. Boldwood. It was Mr. +Boldwood. Bathsheba blushed painfully, and watched. The farmer +stopped when still a long way off, and held up his hand to Gabriel +Oak, who was in a footpath across the field. The two men then +approached each other and seemed to engage in earnest conversation. + +Thus they continued for a long time. Joseph Poorgrass now passed +near them, wheeling a barrow of apples up the hill to Bathsheba's +residence. Boldwood and Gabriel called to him, spoke to him for a +few minutes, and then all three parted, Joseph immediately coming +up the hill with his barrow. + +Bathsheba, who had seen this pantomime with some surprise, +experienced great relief when Boldwood turned back again. "Well, +what's the message, Joseph?" she said. + +He set down his barrow, and, putting upon himself the refined aspect +that a conversation with a lady required, spoke to Bathsheba over the +gate. + +"You'll never see Fanny Robin no more--use nor principal--ma'am." + +"Why?" + +"Because she's dead in the Union." + +"Fanny dead--never!" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"What did she die from?" + +"I don't know for certain; but I should be inclined to think it was +from general neshness of constitution. She was such a limber maid +that 'a could stand no hardship, even when I knowed her, and 'a went +like a candle-snoff, so 'tis said. She was took bad in the morning, +and, being quite feeble and worn out, she died in the evening. She +belongs by law to our parish; and Mr. Boldwood is going to send a +waggon at three this afternoon to fetch her home here and bury her." + +"Indeed I shall not let Mr. Boldwood do any such thing--I shall do +it! Fanny was my uncle's servant, and, although I only knew her +for a couple of days, she belongs to me. How very, very sad this +is!--the idea of Fanny being in a workhouse." Bathsheba had begun to +know what suffering was, and she spoke with real feeling.... "Send +across to Mr. Boldwood's, and say that Mrs. Troy will take upon +herself the duty of fetching an old servant of the family.... We +ought not to put her in a waggon; we'll get a hearse." + +"There will hardly be time, ma'am, will there?" + +"Perhaps not," she said, musingly. "When did you say we must be at +the door--three o'clock?" + +"Three o'clock this afternoon, ma'am, so to speak it." + +"Very well--you go with it. A pretty waggon is better than an ugly +hearse, after all. Joseph, have the new spring waggon with the blue +body and red wheels, and wash it very clean. And, Joseph--" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Carry with you some evergreens and flowers to put upon her +coffin--indeed, gather a great many, and completely bury her in +them. Get some boughs of laurustinus, and variegated box, and yew, +and boy's-love; ay, and some bunches of chrysanthemum. And let old +Pleasant draw her, because she knew him so well." + +"I will, ma'am. I ought to have said that the Union, in the form of +four labouring men, will meet me when I gets to our churchyard gate, +and take her and bury her according to the rites of the Board of +Guardians, as by law ordained." + +"Dear me--Casterbridge Union--and is Fanny come to this?" said +Bathsheba, musing. "I wish I had known of it sooner. I thought she +was far away. How long has she lived there?" + +"On'y been there a day or two." + +"Oh!--then she has not been staying there as a regular inmate?" + +"No. She first went to live in a garrison-town t'other side o' +Wessex, and since then she's been picking up a living at seampstering +in Melchester for several months, at the house of a very respectable +widow-woman who takes in work of that sort. She only got handy the +Union-house on Sunday morning 'a b'lieve, and 'tis supposed here and +there that she had traipsed every step of the way from Melchester. +Why she left her place, I can't say, for I don't know; and as to a +lie, why, I wouldn't tell it. That's the short of the story, ma'am." + +"Ah-h!" + +No gem ever flashed from a rosy ray to a white one more rapidly than +changed the young wife's countenance whilst this word came from her +in a long-drawn breath. "Did she walk along our turnpike-road?" she +said, in a suddenly restless and eager voice. + +"I believe she did.... Ma'am, shall I call Liddy? You bain't well, +ma'am, surely? You look like a lily--so pale and fainty!" + +"No; don't call her; it is nothing. When did she pass Weatherbury?" + +"Last Saturday night." + +"That will do, Joseph; now you may go." + +"Certainly, ma'am." + +"Joseph, come hither a moment. What was the colour of Fanny Robin's +hair?" + +"Really, mistress, now that 'tis put to me so judge-and-jury like, I +can't call to mind, if ye'll believe me!" + +"Never mind; go on and do what I told you. Stop--well no, go on." + +She turned herself away from him, that he might no longer notice the +mood which had set its sign so visibly upon her, and went indoors +with a distressing sense of faintness and a beating brow. About an +hour after, she heard the noise of the waggon and went out, still +with a painful consciousness of her bewildered and troubled look. +Joseph, dressed in his best suit of clothes, was putting in the horse +to start. The shrubs and flowers were all piled in the waggon, as +she had directed; Bathsheba hardly saw them now. + +"Died of what? did you say, Joseph?" + +"I don't know, ma'am." + +"Are you quite sure?" + +"Yes, ma'am, quite sure." + +"Sure of what?" + +"I'm sure that all I know is that she arrived in the morning and died +in the evening without further parley. What Oak and Mr. Boldwood +told me was only these few words. 'Little Fanny Robin is dead, +Joseph,' Gabriel said, looking in my face in his steady old way. +I was very sorry, and I said, 'Ah!--and how did she come to die?' +'Well, she's dead in Casterbridge Union,' he said, 'and perhaps +'tisn't much matter about how she came to die. She reached the +Union early Sunday morning, and died in the afternoon--that's clear +enough.' Then I asked what she'd been doing lately, and Mr. Boldwood +turned round to me then, and left off spitting a thistle with the end +of his stick. He told me about her having lived by seampstering in +Melchester, as I mentioned to you, and that she walked therefrom at +the end of last week, passing near here Saturday night in the dusk. +They then said I had better just name a hint of her death to you, and +away they went. Her death might have been brought on by biding in +the night wind, you know, ma'am; for people used to say she'd go off +in a decline: she used to cough a good deal in winter time. However, +'tisn't much odds to us about that now, for 'tis all over." + +"Have you heard a different story at all?" She looked at him so +intently that Joseph's eyes quailed. + +"Not a word, mistress, I assure 'ee!" he said. "Hardly anybody in +the parish knows the news yet." + +"I wonder why Gabriel didn't bring the message to me himself. He +mostly makes a point of seeing me upon the most trifling errand." +These words were merely murmured, and she was looking upon the +ground. + +"Perhaps he was busy, ma'am," Joseph suggested. "And sometimes he +seems to suffer from things upon his mind, connected with the time +when he was better off than 'a is now. 'A's rather a curious item, +but a very understanding shepherd, and learned in books." + +"Did anything seem upon his mind whilst he was speaking to you about +this?" + +"I cannot but say that there did, ma'am. He was terrible down, and +so was Farmer Boldwood." + +"Thank you, Joseph. That will do. Go on now, or you'll be late." + +Bathsheba, still unhappy, went indoors again. In the course of the +afternoon she said to Liddy, who had been informed of the occurrence, +"What was the colour of poor Fanny Robin's hair? Do you know? I +cannot recollect--I only saw her for a day or two." + +"It was light, ma'am; but she wore it rather short, and packed away +under her cap, so that you would hardly notice it. But I have seen +her let it down when she was going to bed, and it looked beautiful +then. Real golden hair." + +"Her young man was a soldier, was he not?" + +"Yes. In the same regiment as Mr. Troy. He says he knew him very +well." + +"What, Mr. Troy says so? How came he to say that?" + +"One day I just named it to him, and asked him if he knew Fanny's +young man. He said, 'Oh yes, he knew the young man as well as he +knew himself, and that there wasn't a man in the regiment he liked +better.'" + +"Ah! Said that, did he?" + +"Yes; and he said there was a strong likeness between himself and the +other young man, so that sometimes people mistook them--" + +"Liddy, for Heaven's sake stop your talking!" said Bathsheba, with +the nervous petulance that comes from worrying perceptions. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +JOSEPH AND HIS BURDEN--BUCK'S HEAD + + +A wall bounded the site of Casterbridge Union-house, except along a +portion of the end. Here a high gable stood prominent, and it was +covered like the front with a mat of ivy. In this gable was no +window, chimney, ornament, or protuberance of any kind. The single +feature appertaining to it, beyond the expanse of dark green leaves, +was a small door. + +The situation of the door was peculiar. The sill was three or four +feet above the ground, and for a moment one was at a loss for an +explanation of this exceptional altitude, till ruts immediately +beneath suggested that the door was used solely for the passage of +articles and persons to and from the level of a vehicle standing on +the outside. Upon the whole, the door seemed to advertise itself as +a species of Traitor's Gate translated to another sphere. That entry +and exit hereby was only at rare intervals became apparent on noting +that tufts of grass were allowed to flourish undisturbed in the +chinks of the sill. + +As the clock over the South-street Alms-house pointed to five minutes +to three, a blue spring waggon, picked out with red, and containing +boughs and flowers, passed the end of the street, and up towards this +side of the building. Whilst the chimes were yet stammering out a +shattered form of "Malbrook," Joseph Poorgrass rang the bell, and +received directions to back his waggon against the high door under +the gable. The door then opened, and a plain elm coffin was slowly +thrust forth, and laid by two men in fustian along the middle of the +vehicle. + +One of the men then stepped up beside it, took from his pocket a lump +of chalk, and wrote upon the cover the name and a few other words in +a large scrawling hand. (We believe that they do these things more +tenderly now, and provide a plate.) He covered the whole with a +black cloth, threadbare, but decent, the tail-board of the waggon +was returned to its place, one of the men handed a certificate of +registry to Poorgrass, and both entered the door, closing it behind +them. Their connection with her, short as it had been, was over for +ever. + +Joseph then placed the flowers as enjoined, and the evergreens +around the flowers, till it was difficult to divine what the waggon +contained; he smacked his whip, and the rather pleasing funeral car +crept down the hill, and along the road to Weatherbury. + +The afternoon drew on apace, and, looking to the right towards the +sea as he walked beside the horse, Poorgrass saw strange clouds and +scrolls of mist rolling over the long ridges which girt the landscape +in that quarter. They came in yet greater volumes, and indolently +crept across the intervening valleys, and around the withered papery +flags of the moor and river brinks. Then their dank spongy forms +closed in upon the sky. It was a sudden overgrowth of atmospheric +fungi which had their roots in the neighbouring sea, and by the time +that horse, man, and corpse entered Yalbury Great Wood, these silent +workings of an invisible hand had reached them, and they were +completely enveloped, this being the first arrival of the autumn +fogs, and the first fog of the series. + +The air was as an eye suddenly struck blind. The waggon and its load +rolled no longer on the horizontal division between clearness and +opacity, but were imbedded in an elastic body of a monotonous pallor +throughout. There was no perceptible motion in the air, not a +visible drop of water fell upon a leaf of the beeches, birches, +and firs composing the wood on either side. The trees stood in an +attitude of intentness, as if they waited longingly for a wind to +come and rock them. A startling quiet overhung all surrounding +things--so completely, that the crunching of the waggon-wheels +was as a great noise, and small rustles, which had never obtained +a hearing except by night, were distinctly individualized. + +Joseph Poorgrass looked round upon his sad burden as it loomed +faintly through the flowering laurustinus, then at the unfathomable +gloom amid the high trees on each hand, indistinct, shadowless, and +spectre-like in their monochrome of grey. He felt anything but +cheerful, and wished he had the company even of a child or dog. +Stopping the horse, he listened. Not a footstep or wheel was audible +anywhere around, and the dead silence was broken only by a heavy +particle falling from a tree through the evergreens and alighting +with a smart rap upon the coffin of poor Fanny. The fog had by this +time saturated the trees, and this was the first dropping of water +from the overbrimming leaves. The hollow echo of its fall reminded +the waggoner painfully of the grim Leveller. Then hard by came down +another drop, then two or three. Presently there was a continual +tapping of these heavy drops upon the dead leaves, the road, and +the travellers. The nearer boughs were beaded with the mist to the +greyness of aged men, and the rusty-red leaves of the beeches were +hung with similar drops, like diamonds on auburn hair. + +At the roadside hamlet called Roy-Town, just beyond this wood, +was the old inn Buck's Head. It was about a mile and a half from +Weatherbury, and in the meridian times of stage-coach travelling +had been the place where many coaches changed and kept their relays +of horses. All the old stabling was now pulled down, and little +remained besides the habitable inn itself, which, standing a little +way back from the road, signified its existence to people far up and +down the highway by a sign hanging from the horizontal bough of an +elm on the opposite side of the way. + +Travellers--for the variety _tourist_ had hardly developed into a +distinct species at this date--sometimes said in passing, when they +cast their eyes up to the sign-bearing tree, that artists were fond +of representing the signboard hanging thus, but that they themselves +had never before noticed so perfect an instance in actual working +order. It was near this tree that the waggon was standing into which +Gabriel Oak crept on his first journey to Weatherbury; but, owing to +the darkness, the sign and the inn had been unobserved. + +The manners of the inn were of the old-established type. Indeed, +in the minds of its frequenters they existed as unalterable formulæ: +_e.g._-- + + + Rap with the bottom of your pint for more liquor. + For tobacco, shout. + In calling for the girl in waiting, say, "Maid!" + Ditto for the landlady, "Old Soul!" etc., etc. + + +It was a relief to Joseph's heart when the friendly signboard came in +view, and, stopping his horse immediately beneath it, he proceeded to +fulfil an intention made a long time before. His spirits were oozing +out of him quite. He turned the horse's head to the green bank, and +entered the hostel for a mug of ale. + +Going down into the kitchen of the inn, the floor of which was a +step below the passage, which in its turn was a step below the +road outside, what should Joseph see to gladden his eyes but two +copper-coloured discs, in the form of the countenances of Mr. Jan +Coggan and Mr. Mark Clark. These owners of the two most appreciative +throats in the neighbourhood, within the pale of respectability, were +now sitting face to face over a three-legged circular table, having +an iron rim to keep cups and pots from being accidentally elbowed +off; they might have been said to resemble the setting sun and the +full moon shining _vis-à-vis_ across the globe. + +"Why, 'tis neighbour Poorgrass!" said Mark Clark. "I'm sure your +face don't praise your mistress's table, Joseph." + +"I've had a very pale companion for the last four miles," said +Joseph, indulging in a shudder toned down by resignation. "And to +speak the truth, 'twas beginning to tell upon me. I assure ye, I +ha'n't seed the colour of victuals or drink since breakfast time +this morning, and that was no more than a dew-bit afield." + +"Then drink, Joseph, and don't restrain yourself!" said Coggan, +handing him a hooped mug three-quarters full. + +Joseph drank for a moderately long time, then for a longer time, +saying, as he lowered the jug, "'Tis pretty drinking--very pretty +drinking, and is more than cheerful on my melancholy errand, so to +speak it." + +"True, drink is a pleasant delight," said Jan, as one who repeated a +truism so familiar to his brain that he hardly noticed its passage +over his tongue; and, lifting the cup, Coggan tilted his head +gradually backwards, with closed eyes, that his expectant soul +might not be diverted for one instant from its bliss by irrelevant +surroundings. + +"Well, I must be on again," said Poorgrass. "Not but that I should +like another nip with ye; but the parish might lose confidence in me +if I was seed here." + +"Where be ye trading o't to to-day, then, Joseph?" + +"Back to Weatherbury. I've got poor little Fanny Robin in my waggon +outside, and I must be at the churchyard gates at a quarter to five +with her." + +"Ay--I've heard of it. And so she's nailed up in parish boards after +all, and nobody to pay the bell shilling and the grave half-crown." + +"The parish pays the grave half-crown, but not the bell shilling, +because the bell's a luxery: but 'a can hardly do without the grave, +poor body. However, I expect our mistress will pay all." + +"A pretty maid as ever I see! But what's yer hurry, Joseph? The +pore woman's dead, and you can't bring her to life, and you may as +well sit down comfortable, and finish another with us." + +"I don't mind taking just the least thimbleful ye can dream of more +with ye, sonnies. But only a few minutes, because 'tis as 'tis." + +"Of course, you'll have another drop. A man's twice the man +afterwards. You feel so warm and glorious, and you whop and slap at +your work without any trouble, and everything goes on like sticks +a-breaking. Too much liquor is bad, and leads us to that horned man +in the smoky house; but after all, many people haven't the gift of +enjoying a wet, and since we be highly favoured with a power that +way, we should make the most o't." + +"True," said Mark Clark. "'Tis a talent the Lord has mercifully +bestowed upon us, and we ought not to neglect it. But, what with the +parsons and clerks and school-people and serious tea-parties, the +merry old ways of good life have gone to the dogs--upon my carcase, +they have!" + +"Well, really, I must be onward again now," said Joseph. + +"Now, now, Joseph; nonsense! The poor woman is dead, isn't she, and +what's your hurry?" + +"Well, I hope Providence won't be in a way with me for my doings," +said Joseph, again sitting down. "I've been troubled with weak +moments lately, 'tis true. I've been drinky once this month already, +and I did not go to church a-Sunday, and I dropped a curse or two +yesterday; so I don't want to go too far for my safety. Your next +world is your next world, and not to be squandered offhand." + +"I believe ye to be a chapelmember, Joseph. That I do." + +"Oh, no, no! I don't go so far as that." + +"For my part," said Coggan, "I'm staunch Church of England." + +"Ay, and faith, so be I," said Mark Clark. + +"I won't say much for myself; I don't wish to," Coggan continued, +with that tendency to talk on principles which is characteristic of +the barley-corn. "But I've never changed a single doctrine: I've +stuck like a plaster to the old faith I was born in. Yes; there's +this to be said for the Church, a man can belong to the Church and +bide in his cheerful old inn, and never trouble or worry his mind +about doctrines at all. But to be a meetinger, you must go to chapel +in all winds and weathers, and make yerself as frantic as a skit. +Not but that chapel members be clever chaps enough in their way. +They can lift up beautiful prayers out of their own heads, all about +their families and shipwrecks in the newspaper." + +"They can--they can," said Mark Clark, with corroborative feeling; +"but we Churchmen, you see, must have it all printed aforehand, or, +dang it all, we should no more know what to say to a great gaffer +like the Lord than babes unborn." + +"Chapelfolk be more hand-in-glove with them above than we," said +Joseph, thoughtfully. + +"Yes," said Coggan. "We know very well that if anybody do go to +heaven, they will. They've worked hard for it, and they deserve to +have it, such as 'tis. I bain't such a fool as to pretend that we +who stick to the Church have the same chance as they, because we +know we have not. But I hate a feller who'll change his old ancient +doctrines for the sake of getting to heaven. I'd as soon turn +king's-evidence for the few pounds you get. Why, neighbours, when +every one of my taties were frosted, our Parson Thirdly were the man +who gave me a sack for seed, though he hardly had one for his own +use, and no money to buy 'em. If it hadn't been for him, I shouldn't +hae had a tatie to put in my garden. D'ye think I'd turn after that? +No, I'll stick to my side; and if we be in the wrong, so be it: I'll +fall with the fallen!" + +"Well said--very well said," observed Joseph.--"However, folks, I +must be moving now: upon my life I must. Pa'son Thirdly will be +waiting at the church gates, and there's the woman a-biding outside +in the waggon." + +"Joseph Poorgrass, don't be so miserable! Pa'son Thirdly won't mind. +He's a generous man; he's found me in tracts for years, and I've +consumed a good many in the course of a long and shady life; but he's +never been the man to cry out at the expense. Sit down." + +The longer Joseph Poorgrass remained, the less his spirit was +troubled by the duties which devolved upon him this afternoon. +The minutes glided by uncounted, until the evening shades began +perceptibly to deepen, and the eyes of the three were but sparkling +points on the surface of darkness. Coggan's repeater struck six +from his pocket in the usual still small tones. + +At that moment hasty steps were heard in the entry, and the door +opened to admit the figure of Gabriel Oak, followed by the maid of +the inn bearing a candle. He stared sternly at the one lengthy +and two round faces of the sitters, which confronted him with the +expressions of a fiddle and a couple of warming-pans. Joseph +Poorgrass blinked, and shrank several inches into the background. + +"Upon my soul, I'm ashamed of you; 'tis disgraceful, Joseph, +disgraceful!" said Gabriel, indignantly. "Coggan, you call yourself +a man, and don't know better than this." + +Coggan looked up indefinitely at Oak, one or other of his eyes +occasionally opening and closing of its own accord, as if it were not +a member, but a dozy individual with a distinct personality. + +"Don't take on so, shepherd!" said Mark Clark, looking reproachfully +at the candle, which appeared to possess special features of interest +for his eyes. + +"Nobody can hurt a dead woman," at length said Coggan, with the +precision of a machine. "All that could be done for her is +done--she's beyond us: and why should a man put himself in a tearing +hurry for lifeless clay that can neither feel nor see, and don't know +what you do with her at all? If she'd been alive, I would have been +the first to help her. If she now wanted victuals and drink, I'd pay +for it, money down. But she's dead, and no speed of ours will bring +her to life. The woman's past us--time spent upon her is throwed +away: why should we hurry to do what's not required? Drink, +shepherd, and be friends, for to-morrow we may be like her." + +"We may," added Mark Clark, emphatically, at once drinking himself, +to run no further risk of losing his chance by the event alluded +to, Jan meanwhile merging his additional thoughts of to-morrow in a +song:-- + + + To-mor-row, to-mor-row! + And while peace and plen-ty I find at my board, + With a heart free from sick-ness and sor-row, + With my friends will I share what to-day may af-ford, + And let them spread the ta-ble to-mor-row. + To-mor-row', to-mor-- + + +"Do hold thy horning, Jan!" said Oak; and turning upon Poorgrass, "as +for you, Joseph, who do your wicked deeds in such confoundedly holy +ways, you are as drunk as you can stand." + +"No, Shepherd Oak, no! Listen to reason, shepherd. All that's the +matter with me is the affliction called a multiplying eye, and that's +how it is I look double to you--I mean, you look double to me." + +"A multiplying eye is a very bad thing," said Mark Clark. + +"It always comes on when I have been in a public-house a little +time," said Joseph Poorgrass, meekly. "Yes; I see two of every +sort, as if I were some holy man living in the times of King Noah +and entering into the ark.... Y-y-y-yes," he added, becoming much +affected by the picture of himself as a person thrown away, and +shedding tears; "I feel too good for England: I ought to have lived +in Genesis by rights, like the other men of sacrifice, and then I +shouldn't have b-b-been called a d-d-drunkard in such a way!" + +"I wish you'd show yourself a man of spirit, and not sit whining +there!" + +"Show myself a man of spirit? ... Ah, well! let me take the name of +drunkard humbly--let me be a man of contrite knees--let it be! I +know that I always do say 'Please God' afore I do anything, from my +getting up to my going down of the same, and I be willing to take as +much disgrace as there is in that holy act. Hah, yes! ... But not +a man of spirit? Have I ever allowed the toe of pride to be lifted +against my hinder parts without groaning manfully that I question +the right to do so? I inquire that query boldly?" + +"We can't say that you have, Hero Poorgrass," admitted Jan. + +"Never have I allowed such treatment to pass unquestioned! Yet the +shepherd says in the face of that rich testimony that I be not a man +of spirit! Well, let it pass by, and death is a kind friend!" + +Gabriel, seeing that neither of the three was in a fit state to take +charge of the waggon for the remainder of the journey, made no reply, +but, closing the door again upon them, went across to where the +vehicle stood, now getting indistinct in the fog and gloom of this +mildewy time. He pulled the horse's head from the large patch of +turf it had eaten bare, readjusted the boughs over the coffin, and +drove along through the unwholesome night. + +It had gradually become rumoured in the village that the body to be +brought and buried that day was all that was left of the unfortunate +Fanny Robin who had followed the Eleventh from Casterbridge through +Melchester and onwards. But, thanks to Boldwood's reticence +and Oak's generosity, the lover she had followed had never been +individualized as Troy. Gabriel hoped that the whole truth of the +matter might not be published till at any rate the girl had been in +her grave for a few days, when the interposing barriers of earth +and time, and a sense that the events had been somewhat shut into +oblivion, would deaden the sting that revelation and invidious +remark would have for Bathsheba just now. + +By the time that Gabriel reached the old manor-house, her residence, +which lay in his way to the church, it was quite dark. A man came +from the gate and said through the fog, which hung between them like +blown flour-- + +"Is that Poorgrass with the corpse?" + +Gabriel recognized the voice as that of the parson. + +"The corpse is here, sir," said Gabriel. + +"I have just been to inquire of Mrs. Troy if she could tell me the +reason of the delay. I am afraid it is too late now for the funeral +to be performed with proper decency. Have you the registrar's +certificate?" + +"No," said Gabriel. "I expect Poorgrass has that; and he's at the +Buck's Head. I forgot to ask him for it." + +"Then that settles the matter. We'll put off the funeral till +to-morrow morning. The body may be brought on to the church, or +it may be left here at the farm and fetched by the bearers in the +morning. They waited more than an hour, and have now gone home." + +Gabriel had his reasons for thinking the latter a most objectionable +plan, notwithstanding that Fanny had been an inmate of the farm-house +for several years in the lifetime of Bathsheba's uncle. Visions +of several unhappy contingencies which might arise from this delay +flitted before him. But his will was not law, and he went indoors +to inquire of his mistress what were her wishes on the subject. He +found her in an unusual mood: her eyes as she looked up to him were +suspicious and perplexed as with some antecedent thought. Troy +had not yet returned. At first Bathsheba assented with a mien of +indifference to his proposition that they should go on to the church +at once with their burden; but immediately afterwards, following +Gabriel to the gate, she swerved to the extreme of solicitousness on +Fanny's account, and desired that the girl might be brought into the +house. Oak argued upon the convenience of leaving her in the waggon, +just as she lay now, with her flowers and green leaves about her, +merely wheeling the vehicle into the coach-house till the morning, +but to no purpose. "It is unkind and unchristian," she said, "to +leave the poor thing in a coach-house all night." + +"Very well, then," said the parson. "And I will arrange that the +funeral shall take place early to-morrow. Perhaps Mrs. Troy is +right in feeling that we cannot treat a dead fellow-creature too +thoughtfully. We must remember that though she may have erred +grievously in leaving her home, she is still our sister: and it is +to be believed that God's uncovenanted mercies are extended towards +her, and that she is a member of the flock of Christ." + +The parson's words spread into the heavy air with a sad yet +unperturbed cadence, and Gabriel shed an honest tear. Bathsheba +seemed unmoved. Mr. Thirdly then left them, and Gabriel lighted +a lantern. Fetching three other men to assist him, they bore the +unconscious truant indoors, placing the coffin on two benches in the +middle of a little sitting-room next the hall, as Bathsheba directed. + +Every one except Gabriel Oak then left the room. He still +indecisively lingered beside the body. He was deeply troubled at the +wretchedly ironical aspect that circumstances were putting on with +regard to Troy's wife, and at his own powerlessness to counteract +them. In spite of his careful manoeuvering all this day, the very +worst event that could in any way have happened in connection with +the burial had happened now. Oak imagined a terrible discovery +resulting from this afternoon's work that might cast over Bathsheba's +life a shade which the interposition of many lapsing years might but +indifferently lighten, and which nothing at all might altogether +remove. + +Suddenly, as in a last attempt to save Bathsheba from, at any rate, +immediate anguish, he looked again, as he had looked before, at the +chalk writing upon the coffin-lid. The scrawl was this simple one, +"FANNY ROBIN AND CHILD." Gabriel took his handkerchief and carefully +rubbed out the two latter words, leaving visible the inscription +"FANNY ROBIN" only. He then left the room, and went out quietly by +the front door. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +FANNY'S REVENGE + + +"Do you want me any longer ma'am?" inquired Liddy, at a later hour +the same evening, standing by the door with a chamber candlestick in +her hand and addressing Bathsheba, who sat cheerless and alone in the +large parlour beside the first fire of the season. + +"No more to-night, Liddy." + +"I'll sit up for master if you like, ma'am. I am not at all afraid +of Fanny, if I may sit in my own room and have a candle. She was +such a childlike, nesh young thing that her spirit couldn't appear +to anybody if it tried, I'm quite sure." + +"Oh no, no! You go to bed. I'll sit up for him myself till twelve +o'clock, and if he has not arrived by that time, I shall give him up +and go to bed too." + +"It is half-past ten now." + +"Oh! is it?" + +"Why don't you sit upstairs, ma'am?" + +"Why don't I?" said Bathsheba, desultorily. "It isn't worth +while--there's a fire here, Liddy." She suddenly exclaimed in an +impulsive and excited whisper, "Have you heard anything strange said +of Fanny?" The words had no sooner escaped her than an expression of +unutterable regret crossed her face, and she burst into tears. + +"No--not a word!" said Liddy, looking at the weeping woman with +astonishment. "What is it makes you cry so, ma'am; has anything hurt +you?" She came to Bathsheba's side with a face full of sympathy. + +"No, Liddy--I don't want you any more. I can hardly say why I have +taken to crying lately: I never used to cry. Good-night." + +Liddy then left the parlour and closed the door. + +Bathsheba was lonely and miserable now; not lonelier actually than +she had been before her marriage; but her loneliness then was to that +of the present time as the solitude of a mountain is to the solitude +of a cave. And within the last day or two had come these disquieting +thoughts about her husband's past. Her wayward sentiment that +evening concerning Fanny's temporary resting-place had been the +result of a strange complication of impulses in Bathsheba's bosom. +Perhaps it would be more accurately described as a determined +rebellion against her prejudices, a revulsion from a lower instinct +of uncharitableness, which would have withheld all sympathy from +the dead woman, because in life she had preceded Bathsheba in the +attentions of a man whom Bathsheba had by no means ceased from +loving, though her love was sick to death just now with the gravity +of a further misgiving. + +In five or ten minutes there was another tap at the door. Liddy +reappeared, and coming in a little way stood hesitating, until at +length she said, "Maryann has just heard something very strange, but +I know it isn't true. And we shall be sure to know the rights of it +in a day or two." + +"What is it?" + +"Oh, nothing connected with you or us, ma'am. It is about Fanny. +That same thing you have heard." + +"I have heard nothing." + +"I mean that a wicked story is got to Weatherbury within this last +hour--that--" Liddy came close to her mistress and whispered the +remainder of the sentence slowly into her ear, inclining her head as +she spoke in the direction of the room where Fanny lay. + +Bathsheba trembled from head to foot. + +"I don't believe it!" she said, excitedly. "And there's only one +name written on the coffin-cover." + +"Nor I, ma'am. And a good many others don't; for we should surely +have been told more about it if it had been true--don't you think so, +ma'am?" + +"We might or we might not." + +Bathsheba turned and looked into the fire, that Liddy might not see +her face. Finding that her mistress was going to say no more, Liddy +glided out, closed the door softly, and went to bed. + +Bathsheba's face, as she continued looking into the fire that +evening, might have excited solicitousness on her account even among +those who loved her least. The sadness of Fanny Robin's fate did not +make Bathsheba's glorious, although she was the Esther to this poor +Vashti, and their fates might be supposed to stand in some respects +as contrasts to each other. When Liddy came into the room a second +time the beautiful eyes which met hers had worn a listless, weary +look. When she went out after telling the story they had expressed +wretchedness in full activity. Her simple country nature, fed on +old-fashioned principles, was troubled by that which would have +troubled a woman of the world very little, both Fanny and her child, +if she had one, being dead. + +Bathsheba had grounds for conjecturing a connection between her own +history and the dimly suspected tragedy of Fanny's end which Oak +and Boldwood never for a moment credited her with possessing. The +meeting with the lonely woman on the previous Saturday night had been +unwitnessed and unspoken of. Oak may have had the best of intentions +in withholding for as many days as possible the details of what had +happened to Fanny; but had he known that Bathsheba's perceptions had +already been exercised in the matter, he would have done nothing to +lengthen the minutes of suspense she was now undergoing, when the +certainty which must terminate it would be the worst fact suspected +after all. + +She suddenly felt a longing desire to speak to some one stronger than +herself, and so get strength to sustain her surmised position with +dignity and her lurking doubts with stoicism. Where could she find +such a friend? nowhere in the house. She was by far the coolest of +the women under her roof. Patience and suspension of judgement for +a few hours were what she wanted to learn, and there was nobody to +teach her. Might she but go to Gabriel Oak!--but that could not be. +What a way Oak had, she thought, of enduring things. Boldwood, +who seemed so much deeper and higher and stronger in feeling than +Gabriel, had not yet learnt, any more than she herself, the simple +lesson which Oak showed a mastery of by every turn and look he +gave--that among the multitude of interests by which he was +surrounded, those which affected his personal well-being were not the +most absorbing and important in his eyes. Oak meditatively looked +upon the horizon of circumstances without any special regard to his +own standpoint in the midst. That was how she would wish to be. But +then Oak was not racked by incertitude upon the inmost matter of his +bosom, as she was at this moment. Oak knew all about Fanny that he +wished to know--she felt convinced of that. If she were to go to him +now at once and say no more than these few words, "What is the truth +of the story?" he would feel bound in honour to tell her. It would +be an inexpressible relief. No further speech would need to be +uttered. He knew her so well that no eccentricity of behaviour in +her would alarm him. + +She flung a cloak round her, went to the door and opened it. Every +blade, every twig was still. The air was yet thick with moisture, +though somewhat less dense than during the afternoon, and a steady +smack of drops upon the fallen leaves under the boughs was almost +musical in its soothing regularity. It seemed better to be out of +the house than within it, and Bathsheba closed the door, and walked +slowly down the lane till she came opposite to Gabriel's cottage, +where he now lived alone, having left Coggan's house through being +pinched for room. There was a light in one window only, and that +was downstairs. The shutters were not closed, nor was any blind or +curtain drawn over the window, neither robbery nor observation being +a contingency which could do much injury to the occupant of the +domicile. Yes, it was Gabriel himself who was sitting up: he was +reading. From her standing-place in the road she could see him +plainly, sitting quite still, his light curly head upon his hand, and +only occasionally looking up to snuff the candle which stood beside +him. At length he looked at the clock, seemed surprised at the +lateness of the hour, closed his book, and arose. He was going to +bed, she knew, and if she tapped it must be done at once. + +Alas for her resolve! She felt she could not do it. Not for worlds +now could she give a hint about her misery to him, much less ask him +plainly for information on the cause of Fanny's death. She must +suspect, and guess, and chafe, and bear it all alone. + +Like a homeless wanderer she lingered by the bank, as if lulled and +fascinated by the atmosphere of content which seemed to spread from +that little dwelling, and was so sadly lacking in her own. Gabriel +appeared in an upper room, placed his light in the window-bench, +and then--knelt down to pray. The contrast of the picture with her +rebellious and agitated existence at this same time was too much for +her to bear to look upon longer. It was not for her to make a truce +with trouble by any such means. She must tread her giddy distracting +measure to its last note, as she had begun it. With a swollen heart +she went again up the lane, and entered her own door. + +More fevered now by a reaction from the first feelings which Oak's +example had raised in her, she paused in the hall, looking at the +door of the room wherein Fanny lay. She locked her fingers, threw +back her head, and strained her hot hands rigidly across her +forehead, saying, with a hysterical sob, "Would to God you would +speak and tell me your secret, Fanny! ... Oh, I hope, hope it is not +true that there are two of you! ... If I could only look in upon you +for one little minute, I should know all!" + +A few moments passed, and she added, slowly, "AND I WILL." + +Bathsheba in after times could never gauge the mood which carried +her through the actions following this murmured resolution on this +memorable evening of her life. She went to the lumber-closet for a +screw-driver. At the end of a short though undefined time she found +herself in the small room, quivering with emotion, a mist before her +eyes, and an excruciating pulsation in her brain, standing beside the +uncovered coffin of the girl whose conjectured end had so entirely +engrossed her, and saying to herself in a husky voice as she gazed +within-- + +"It was best to know the worst, and I know it now!" + +She was conscious of having brought about this situation by a series +of actions done as by one in an extravagant dream; of following that +idea as to method, which had burst upon her in the hall with glaring +obviousness, by gliding to the top of the stairs, assuring herself by +listening to the heavy breathing of her maids that they were asleep, +gliding down again, turning the handle of the door within which the +young girl lay, and deliberately setting herself to do what, if she +had anticipated any such undertaking at night and alone, would have +horrified her, but which, when done, was not so dreadful as was the +conclusive proof of her husband's conduct which came with knowing +beyond doubt the last chapter of Fanny's story. + +Bathsheba's head sank upon her bosom, and the breath which had been +bated in suspense, curiosity, and interest, was exhaled now in the +form of a whispered wail: "Oh-h-h!" she said, and the silent room +added length to her moan. + +Her tears fell fast beside the unconscious pair in the coffin: +tears of a complicated origin, of a nature indescribable, almost +indefinable except as other than those of simple sorrow. Assuredly +their wonted fires must have lived in Fanny's ashes when events were +so shaped as to chariot her hither in this natural, unobtrusive, yet +effectual manner. The one feat alone--that of dying--by which a mean +condition could be resolved into a grand one, Fanny had achieved. +And to that had destiny subjoined this reencounter to-night, which +had, in Bathsheba's wild imagining, turned her companion's failure to +success, her humiliation to triumph, her lucklessness to ascendency; +it had thrown over herself a garish light of mockery, and set upon +all things about her an ironical smile. + +Fanny's face was framed in by that yellow hair of hers; and there was +no longer much room for doubt as to the origin of the curl owned by +Troy. In Bathsheba's heated fancy the innocent white countenance +expressed a dim triumphant consciousness of the pain she was +retaliating for her pain with all the merciless rigour of the Mosaic +law: "Burning for burning; wound for wound: strife for strife." + +Bathsheba indulged in contemplations of escape from her position by +immediate death, which, thought she, though it was an inconvenient +and awful way, had limits to its inconvenience and awfulness that +could not be overpassed; whilst the shames of life were measureless. +Yet even this scheme of extinction by death was but tamely copying +her rival's method without the reasons which had glorified it in her +rival's case. She glided rapidly up and down the room, as was mostly +her habit when excited, her hands hanging clasped in front of her, as +she thought and in part expressed in broken words: "O, I hate her, +yet I don't mean that I hate her, for it is grievous and wicked; and +yet I hate her a little! Yes, my flesh insists upon hating her, +whether my spirit is willing or no! ... If she had only lived, I +could have been angry and cruel towards her with some justification; +but to be vindictive towards a poor dead woman recoils upon myself. +O God, have mercy! I am miserable at all this!" + +Bathsheba became at this moment so terrified at her own state of mind +that she looked around for some sort of refuge from herself. The +vision of Oak kneeling down that night recurred to her, and with the +imitative instinct which animates women she seized upon the idea, +resolved to kneel, and, if possible, pray. Gabriel had prayed; so +would she. + +She knelt beside the coffin, covered her face with her hands, and +for a time the room was silent as a tomb. Whether from a purely +mechanical, or from any other cause, when Bathsheba arose it was with +a quieted spirit, and a regret for the antagonistic instincts which +had seized upon her just before. + +In her desire to make atonement she took flowers from a vase by the +window, and began laying them around the dead girl's head. Bathsheba +knew no other way of showing kindness to persons departed than by +giving them flowers. She knew not how long she remained engaged +thus. She forgot time, life, where she was, what she was doing. A +slamming together of the coach-house doors in the yard brought her to +herself again. An instant after, the front door opened and closed, +steps crossed the hall, and her husband appeared at the entrance to +the room, looking in upon her. + +He beheld it all by degrees, stared in stupefaction at the scene, as +if he thought it an illusion raised by some fiendish incantation. +Bathsheba, pallid as a corpse on end, gazed back at him in the same +wild way. + +So little are instinctive guesses the fruit of a legitimate induction +that, at this moment, as he stood with the door in his hand, Troy +never once thought of Fanny in connection with what he saw. His +first confused idea was that somebody in the house had died. + +"Well--what?" said Troy, blankly. + +"I must go! I must go!" said Bathsheba, to herself more than to him. +She came with a dilated eye towards the door, to push past him. + +"What's the matter, in God's name? who's dead?" said Troy. + +"I cannot say; let me go out. I want air!" she continued. + +"But no; stay, I insist!" He seized her hand, and then volition +seemed to leave her, and she went off into a state of passivity. He, +still holding her, came up the room, and thus, hand in hand, Troy and +Bathsheba approached the coffin's side. + +The candle was standing on a bureau close by them, and the light +slanted down, distinctly enkindling the cold features of both mother +and babe. Troy looked in, dropped his wife's hand, knowledge of it +all came over him in a lurid sheen, and he stood still. + +So still he remained that he could be imagined to have left in him no +motive power whatever. The clashes of feeling in all directions +confounded one another, produced a neutrality, and there was motion +in none. + +"Do you know her?" said Bathsheba, in a small enclosed echo, as from +the interior of a cell. + +"I do," said Troy. + +"Is it she?" + +"It is." + +He had originally stood perfectly erect. And now, in the well-nigh +congealed immobility of his frame could be discerned an incipient +movement, as in the darkest night may be discerned light after a +while. He was gradually sinking forwards. The lines of his features +softened, and dismay modulated to illimitable sadness. Bathsheba +was regarding him from the other side, still with parted lips and +distracted eyes. Capacity for intense feeling is proportionate to +the general intensity of the nature, and perhaps in all Fanny's +sufferings, much greater relatively to her strength, there never was +a time she suffered in an absolute sense what Bathsheba suffered now. + +What Troy did was to sink upon his knees with an indefinable union of +remorse and reverence upon his face, and, bending over Fanny Robin, +gently kissed her, as one would kiss an infant asleep to avoid +awakening it. + +At the sight and sound of that, to her, unendurable act, Bathsheba +sprang towards him. All the strong feelings which had been scattered +over her existence since she knew what feeling was, seemed gathered +together into one pulsation now. The revulsion from her indignant +mood a little earlier, when she had meditated upon compromised +honour, forestalment, eclipse in maternity by another, was violent +and entire. All that was forgotten in the simple and still +strong attachment of wife to husband. She had sighed for her +self-completeness then, and now she cried aloud against the severance +of the union she had deplored. She flung her arms round Troy's neck, +exclaiming wildly from the deepest deep of her heart-- + +"Don't--don't kiss them! O, Frank, I can't bear it--I can't! I love +you better than she did: kiss me too, Frank--kiss me! YOU WILL, +FRANK, KISS ME TOO!" + +There was something so abnormal and startling in the childlike pain +and simplicity of this appeal from a woman of Bathsheba's calibre +and independence, that Troy, loosening her tightly clasped arms from +his neck, looked at her in bewilderment. It was such an unexpected +revelation of all women being alike at heart, even those so different +in their accessories as Fanny and this one beside him, that Troy +could hardly seem to believe her to be his proud wife Bathsheba. +Fanny's own spirit seemed to be animating her frame. But this was +the mood of a few instants only. When the momentary surprise had +passed, his expression changed to a silencing imperious gaze. + +"I will not kiss you!" he said pushing her away. + +Had the wife now but gone no further. Yet, perhaps, under the +harrowing circumstances, to speak out was the one wrong act which +can be better understood, if not forgiven in her, than the right and +politic one, her rival being now but a corpse. All the feeling she +had been betrayed into showing she drew back to herself again by a +strenuous effort of self-command. + +"What have you to say as your reason?" she asked, her bitter voice +being strangely low--quite that of another woman now. + +"I have to say that I have been a bad, black-hearted man," he +answered. + +"And that this woman is your victim; and I not less than she." + +"Ah! don't taunt me, madam. This woman is more to me, dead as she +is, than ever you were, or are, or can be. If Satan had not tempted +me with that face of yours, and those cursed coquetries, I should +have married her. I never had another thought till you came in my +way. Would to God that I had; but it is all too late!" He turned +to Fanny then. "But never mind, darling," he said; "in the sight of +Heaven you are my very, very wife!" + +At these words there arose from Bathsheba's lips a long, low cry of +measureless despair and indignation, such a wail of anguish as had +never before been heard within those old-inhabited walls. It was the +"Tetelestai" [GREEK word meaning "it is finished"] of her union with Troy. + +"If she's--that,--what--am I?" she added, as a continuation of the +same cry, and sobbing pitifully: and the rarity with her of such +abandonment only made the condition more dire. + +"You are nothing to me--nothing," said Troy, heartlessly. "A +ceremony before a priest doesn't make a marriage. I am not morally +yours." + +A vehement impulse to flee from him, to run from this place, hide, +and escape his words at any price, not stopping short of death +itself, mastered Bathsheba now. She waited not an instant, but +turned to the door and ran out. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + +UNDER A TREE--REACTION + + +Bathsheba went along the dark road, neither knowing nor caring about +the direction or issue of her flight. The first time that she +definitely noticed her position was when she reached a gate leading +into a thicket overhung by some large oak and beech trees. On +looking into the place, it occurred to her that she had seen it by +daylight on some previous occasion, and that what appeared like an +impassable thicket was in reality a brake of fern now withering fast. +She could think of nothing better to do with her palpitating self +than to go in here and hide; and entering, she lighted on a spot +sheltered from the damp fog by a reclining trunk, where she sank down +upon a tangled couch of fronds and stems. She mechanically pulled +some armfuls round her to keep off the breezes, and closed her eyes. + +Whether she slept or not that night Bathsheba was not clearly aware. +But it was with a freshened existence and a cooler brain that, a long +time afterwards, she became conscious of some interesting proceedings +which were going on in the trees above her head and around. + +A coarse-throated chatter was the first sound. + +It was a sparrow just waking. + +Next: "Chee-weeze-weeze-weeze!" from another retreat. + +It was a finch. + +Third: "Tink-tink-tink-tink-a-chink!" from the hedge. + +It was a robin. + +"Chuck-chuck-chuck!" overhead. + +A squirrel. + +Then, from the road, "With my ra-ta-ta, and my rum-tum-tum!" + +It was a ploughboy. Presently he came opposite, and she believed +from his voice that he was one of the boys on her own farm. He was +followed by a shambling tramp of heavy feet, and looking through the +ferns Bathsheba could just discern in the wan light of daybreak a +team of her own horses. They stopped to drink at a pond on the other +side of the way. She watched them flouncing into the pool, drinking, +tossing up their heads, drinking again, the water dribbling from +their lips in silver threads. There was another flounce, and they +came out of the pond, and turned back again towards the farm. + +She looked further around. Day was just dawning, and beside its cool +air and colours her heated actions and resolves of the night stood +out in lurid contrast. She perceived that in her lap, and clinging +to her hair, were red and yellow leaves which had come down from +the tree and settled silently upon her during her partial sleep. +Bathsheba shook her dress to get rid of them, when multitudes of the +same family lying round about her rose and fluttered away in the +breeze thus created, "like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing." + +There was an opening towards the east, and the glow from the as yet +unrisen sun attracted her eyes thither. From her feet, and between +the beautiful yellowing ferns with their feathery arms, the ground +sloped downwards to a hollow, in which was a species of swamp, +dotted with fungi. A morning mist hung over it now--a fulsome +yet magnificent silvery veil, full of light from the sun, yet +semi-opaque--the hedge behind it being in some measure hidden by its +hazy luminousness. Up the sides of this depression grew sheaves of +the common rush, and here and there a peculiar species of flag, the +blades of which glistened in the emerging sun, like scythes. But +the general aspect of the swamp was malignant. From its moist and +poisonous coat seemed to be exhaled the essences of evil things in +the earth, and in the waters under the earth. The fungi grew in +all manner of positions from rotting leaves and tree stumps, some +exhibiting to her listless gaze their clammy tops, others their +oozing gills. Some were marked with great splotches, red as arterial +blood, others were saffron yellow, and others tall and attenuated, +with stems like macaroni. Some were leathery and of richest browns. +The hollow seemed a nursery of pestilences small and great, in the +immediate neighbourhood of comfort and health, and Bathsheba arose +with a tremor at the thought of having passed the night on the brink +of so dismal a place. + +There were now other footsteps to be heard along the road. +Bathsheba's nerves were still unstrung: she crouched down out of +sight again, and the pedestrian came into view. He was a schoolboy, +with a bag slung over his shoulder containing his dinner, and a +book in his hand. He paused by the gate, and, without looking up, +continued murmuring words in tones quite loud enough to reach her +ears. + +"'O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord':--that I know out o' book. +'Give us, give us, give us, give us, give us':--that I know. 'Grace +that, grace that, grace that, grace that':--that I know." Other +words followed to the same effect. The boy was of the dunce class +apparently; the book was a psalter, and this was his way of learning +the collect. In the worst attacks of trouble there appears to be +always a superficial film of consciousness which is left disengaged +and open to the notice of trifles, and Bathsheba was faintly amused +at the boy's method, till he too passed on. + +By this time stupor had given place to anxiety, and anxiety began to +make room for hunger and thirst. A form now appeared upon the rise +on the other side of the swamp, half-hidden by the mist, and came +towards Bathsheba. The woman--for it was a woman--approached with +her face askance, as if looking earnestly on all sides of her. +When she got a little further round to the left, and drew nearer, +Bathsheba could see the newcomer's profile against the sunny sky, and +knew the wavy sweep from forehead to chin, with neither angle nor +decisive line anywhere about it, to be the familiar contour of Liddy +Smallbury. + +Bathsheba's heart bounded with gratitude in the thought that she was +not altogether deserted, and she jumped up. "Oh, Liddy!" she said, +or attempted to say; but the words had only been framed by her lips; +there came no sound. She had lost her voice by exposure to the +clogged atmosphere all these hours of night. + +"Oh, ma'am! I am so glad I have found you," said the girl, as soon +as she saw Bathsheba. + +"You can't come across," Bathsheba said in a whisper, which she +vainly endeavoured to make loud enough to reach Liddy's ears. Liddy, +not knowing this, stepped down upon the swamp, saying, as she did so, +"It will bear me up, I think." + +Bathsheba never forgot that transient little picture of Liddy +crossing the swamp to her there in the morning light. Iridescent +bubbles of dank subterranean breath rose from the sweating sod beside +the waiting-maid's feet as she trod, hissing as they burst and +expanded away to join the vapoury firmament above. Liddy did not +sink, as Bathsheba had anticipated. + +She landed safely on the other side, and looked up at the beautiful +though pale and weary face of her young mistress. + +"Poor thing!" said Liddy, with tears in her eyes, "Do hearten +yourself up a little, ma'am. However did--" + +"I can't speak above a whisper--my voice is gone for the present," +said Bathsheba, hurriedly. "I suppose the damp air from that +hollow has taken it away. Liddy, don't question me, mind. Who +sent you--anybody?" + +"Nobody. I thought, when I found you were not at home, that +something cruel had happened. I fancy I heard his voice late last +night; and so, knowing something was wrong--" + +"Is he at home?" + +"No; he left just before I came out." + +"Is Fanny taken away?" + +"Not yet. She will soon be--at nine o'clock." + +"We won't go home at present, then. Suppose we walk about in this +wood?" + +Liddy, without exactly understanding everything, or anything, in this +episode, assented, and they walked together further among the trees. + +"But you had better come in, ma'am, and have something to eat. You +will die of a chill!" + +"I shall not come indoors yet--perhaps never." + +"Shall I get you something to eat, and something else to put over +your head besides that little shawl?" + +"If you will, Liddy." + +Liddy vanished, and at the end of twenty minutes returned with a +cloak, hat, some slices of bread and butter, a tea-cup, and some hot +tea in a little china jug. + +"Is Fanny gone?" said Bathsheba. + +"No," said her companion, pouring out the tea. + +Bathsheba wrapped herself up and ate and drank sparingly. Her voice +was then a little clearer, and trifling colour returned to her face. +"Now we'll walk about again," she said. + +They wandered about the wood for nearly two hours, Bathsheba replying +in monosyllables to Liddy's prattle, for her mind ran on one subject, +and one only. She interrupted with-- + +"I wonder if Fanny is gone by this time?" + +"I will go and see." + +She came back with the information that the men were just taking +away the corpse; that Bathsheba had been inquired for; that she had +replied to the effect that her mistress was unwell and could not be +seen. + +"Then they think I am in my bedroom?" + +"Yes." Liddy then ventured to add: "You said when I first found you +that you might never go home again--you didn't mean it, ma'am?" + +"No; I've altered my mind. It is only women with no pride in them +who run away from their husbands. There is one position worse than +that of being found dead in your husband's house from his ill usage, +and that is, to be found alive through having gone away to the house +of somebody else. I've thought of it all this morning, and I've +chosen my course. A runaway wife is an encumbrance to everybody, +a burden to herself and a byword--all of which make up a heap of +misery greater than any that comes by staying at home--though this +may include the trifling items of insult, beating, and starvation. +Liddy, if ever you marry--God forbid that you ever should!--you'll +find yourself in a fearful situation; but mind this, don't you +flinch. Stand your ground, and be cut to pieces. That's what I'm +going to do." + +"Oh, mistress, don't talk so!" said Liddy, taking her hand; "but I +knew you had too much sense to bide away. May I ask what dreadful +thing it is that has happened between you and him?" + +"You may ask; but I may not tell." + +In about ten minutes they returned to the house by a circuitous +route, entering at the rear. Bathsheba glided up the back stairs to +a disused attic, and her companion followed. + +"Liddy," she said, with a lighter heart, for youth and hope had +begun to reassert themselves; "you are to be my confidante for the +present--somebody must be--and I choose you. Well, I shall take up +my abode here for a while. Will you get a fire lighted, put down +a piece of carpet, and help me to make the place comfortable. +Afterwards, I want you and Maryann to bring up that little stump +bedstead in the small room, and the bed belonging to it, and a table, +and some other things.... What shall I do to pass the heavy time +away?" + +"Hemming handkerchiefs is a very good thing," said Liddy. + +"Oh no, no! I hate needlework--I always did." + +"Knitting?" + +"And that, too." + +"You might finish your sampler. Only the carnations and peacocks +want filling in; and then it could be framed and glazed, and hung +beside your aunt's ma'am." + +"Samplers are out of date--horribly countrified. No Liddy, I'll +read. Bring up some books--not new ones. I haven't heart to read +anything new." + +"Some of your uncle's old ones, ma'am?" + +"Yes. Some of those we stowed away in boxes." A faint gleam +of humour passed over her face as she said: "Bring Beaumont and +Fletcher's _Maid's Tragedy_, and the _Mourning Bride_, and--let +me see--_Night Thoughts_, and the _Vanity of Human Wishes_." + +"And that story of the black man, who murdered his wife Desdemona? +It is a nice dismal one that would suit you excellent just now." + +"Now, Liddy, you've been looking into my books without telling me; +and I said you were not to! How do you know it would suit me? It +wouldn't suit me at all." + +"But if the others do--" + +"No, they don't; and I won't read dismal books. Why should +I read dismal books, indeed? Bring me _Love in a Village_, +and _Maid of the Mill_, and _Doctor Syntax_, and some volumes of +the _Spectator-_." + +All that day Bathsheba and Liddy lived in the attic in a state of +barricade; a precaution which proved to be needless as against Troy, +for he did not appear in the neighbourhood or trouble them at all. +Bathsheba sat at the window till sunset, sometimes attempting to +read, at other times watching every movement outside without much +purpose, and listening without much interest to every sound. + +The sun went down almost blood-red that night, and a livid cloud +received its rays in the east. Up against this dark background the +west front of the church tower--the only part of the edifice visible +from the farm-house windows--rose distinct and lustrous, the vane +upon the summit bristling with rays. Hereabouts, at six o'clock, the +young men of the village gathered, as was their custom, for a game +of Prisoners' base. The spot had been consecrated to this ancient +diversion from time immemorial, the old stocks conveniently forming +a base facing the boundary of the churchyard, in front of which the +ground was trodden hard and bare as a pavement by the players. She +could see the brown and black heads of the young lads darting about +right and left, their white shirt-sleeves gleaming in the sun; +whilst occasionally a shout and a peal of hearty laughter varied the +stillness of the evening air. They continued playing for a quarter +of an hour or so, when the game concluded abruptly, and the players +leapt over the wall and vanished round to the other side behind a +yew-tree, which was also half behind a beech, now spreading in one +mass of golden foliage, on which the branches traced black lines. + +"Why did the base-players finish their game so suddenly?" Bathsheba +inquired, the next time that Liddy entered the room. + +"I think 'twas because two men came just then from Casterbridge and +began putting up a grand carved tombstone," said Liddy. "The lads +went to see whose it was." + +"Do you know?" Bathsheba asked. + +"I don't," said Liddy. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +TROY'S ROMANTICISM + + +When Troy's wife had left the house at the previous midnight his +first act was to cover the dead from sight. This done he ascended +the stairs, and throwing himself down upon the bed dressed as he was, +he waited miserably for the morning. + +Fate had dealt grimly with him through the last four-and-twenty +hours. His day had been spent in a way which varied very materially +from his intentions regarding it. There is always an inertia to +be overcome in striking out a new line of conduct--not more in +ourselves, it seems, than in circumscribing events, which appear as +if leagued together to allow no novelties in the way of amelioration. + +Twenty pounds having been secured from Bathsheba, he had managed to +add to the sum every farthing he could muster on his own account, +which had been seven pounds ten. With this money, twenty-seven +pounds ten in all, he had hastily driven from the gate that morning +to keep his appointment with Fanny Robin. + +On reaching Casterbridge he left the horse and trap at an inn, and +at five minutes before ten came back to the bridge at the lower end +of the town, and sat himself upon the parapet. The clocks struck +the hour, and no Fanny appeared. In fact, at that moment she was +being robed in her grave-clothes by two attendants at the Union +poorhouse--the first and last tiring-women the gentle creature had +ever been honoured with. The quarter went, the half hour. A rush of +recollection came upon Troy as he waited: this was the second time +she had broken a serious engagement with him. In anger he vowed +it should be the last, and at eleven o'clock, when he had lingered +and watched the stone of the bridge till he knew every lichen upon +their face and heard the chink of the ripples underneath till they +oppressed him, he jumped from his seat, went to the inn for his +gig, and in a bitter mood of indifference concerning the past, and +recklessness about the future, drove on to Budmouth races. + +He reached the race-course at two o'clock, and remained either there +or in the town till nine. But Fanny's image, as it had appeared to +him in the sombre shadows of that Saturday evening, returned to his +mind, backed up by Bathsheba's reproaches. He vowed he would not +bet, and he kept his vow, for on leaving the town at nine o'clock in +the evening he had diminished his cash only to the extent of a few +shillings. + +He trotted slowly homeward, and it was now that he was struck for the +first time with a thought that Fanny had been really prevented by +illness from keeping her promise. This time she could have made no +mistake. He regretted that he had not remained in Casterbridge and +made inquiries. Reaching home he quietly unharnessed the horse and +came indoors, as we have seen, to the fearful shock that awaited him. + + +As soon as it grew light enough to distinguish objects, Troy arose +from the coverlet of the bed, and in a mood of absolute indifference +to Bathsheba's whereabouts, and almost oblivious of her existence, he +stalked downstairs and left the house by the back door. His walk was +towards the churchyard, entering which he searched around till he +found a newly dug unoccupied grave--the grave dug the day before for +Fanny. The position of this having been marked, he hastened on to +Casterbridge, only pausing and musing for a while at the hill whereon +he had last seen Fanny alive. + +Reaching the town, Troy descended into a side street and entered a +pair of gates surmounted by a board bearing the words, "Lester, stone +and marble mason." Within were lying about stones of all sizes and +designs, inscribed as being sacred to the memory of unnamed persons +who had not yet died. + +Troy was so unlike himself now in look, word, and deed, that the +want of likeness was perceptible even to his own consciousness. His +method of engaging himself in this business of purchasing a tomb was +that of an absolutely unpractised man. He could not bring himself +to consider, calculate, or economize. He waywardly wished for +something, and he set about obtaining it like a child in a nursery. +"I want a good tomb," he said to the man who stood in a little office +within the yard. "I want as good a one as you can give me for +twenty-seven pounds." + +It was all the money he possessed. + +"That sum to include everything?" + +"Everything. Cutting the name, carriage to Weatherbury, and +erection. And I want it now, at once." + +"We could not get anything special worked this week." + +"I must have it now." + +"If you would like one of these in stock it could be got ready +immediately." + +"Very well," said Troy, impatiently. "Let's see what you have." + +"The best I have in stock is this one," said the stone-cutter, going +into a shed. "Here's a marble headstone beautifully crocketed, with +medallions beneath of typical subjects; here's the footstone after +the same pattern, and here's the coping to enclose the grave. The +polishing alone of the set cost me eleven pounds--the slabs are the +best of their kind, and I can warrant them to resist rain and frost +for a hundred years without flying." + +"And how much?" + +"Well, I could add the name, and put it up at Weatherbury for the sum +you mention." + +"Get it done to-day, and I'll pay the money now." + +The man agreed, and wondered at such a mood in a visitor who wore not +a shred of mourning. Troy then wrote the words which were to form +the inscription, settled the account and went away. In the afternoon +he came back again, and found that the lettering was almost done. He +waited in the yard till the tomb was packed, and saw it placed in the +cart and starting on its way to Weatherbury, giving directions to the +two men who were to accompany it to inquire of the sexton for the +grave of the person named in the inscription. + +It was quite dark when Troy came out of Casterbridge. He carried +rather a heavy basket upon his arm, with which he strode moodily +along the road, resting occasionally at bridges and gates, whereon +he deposited his burden for a time. Midway on his journey he met, +returning in the darkness, the men and the waggon which had conveyed +the tomb. He merely inquired if the work was done, and, on being +assured that it was, passed on again. + +Troy entered Weatherbury churchyard about ten o'clock and went +immediately to the corner where he had marked the vacant grave early +in the morning. It was on the obscure side of the tower, screened to +a great extent from the view of passers along the road--a spot which +until lately had been abandoned to heaps of stones and bushes of +alder, but now it was cleared and made orderly for interments, by +reason of the rapid filling of the ground elsewhere. + +Here now stood the tomb as the men had stated, snow-white and shapely +in the gloom, consisting of head and foot-stone, and enclosing border +of marble-work uniting them. In the midst was mould, suitable for +plants. + +Troy deposited his basket beside the tomb, and vanished for a few +minutes. When he returned he carried a spade and a lantern, the +light of which he directed for a few moments upon the marble, whilst +he read the inscription. He hung his lantern on the lowest bough +of the yew-tree, and took from his basket flower-roots of several +varieties. There were bundles of snow-drop, hyacinth and crocus +bulbs, violets and double daisies, which were to bloom in early +spring, and of carnations, pinks, picotees, lilies of the valley, +forget-me-not, summer's farewell, meadow-saffron and others, for +the later seasons of the year. + +Troy laid these out upon the grass, and with an impassive face set +to work to plant them. The snowdrops were arranged in a line on the +outside of the coping, the remainder within the enclosure of the +grave. The crocuses and hyacinths were to grow in rows; some of +the summer flowers he placed over her head and feet, the lilies and +forget-me-nots over her heart. The remainder were dispersed in the +spaces between these. + +Troy, in his prostration at this time, had no perception that in the +futility of these romantic doings, dictated by a remorseful reaction +from previous indifference, there was any element of absurdity. +Deriving his idiosyncrasies from both sides of the Channel, he showed +at such junctures as the present the inelasticity of the Englishman, +together with that blindness to the line where sentiment verges on +mawkishness, characteristic of the French. + +It was a cloudy, muggy, and very dark night, and the rays from Troy's +lantern spread into the two old yews with a strange illuminating +power, flickering, as it seemed, up to the black ceiling of cloud +above. He felt a large drop of rain upon the back of his hand, and +presently one came and entered one of the holes of the lantern, +whereupon the candle sputtered and went out. Troy was weary and +it being now not far from midnight, and the rain threatening to +increase, he resolved to leave the finishing touches of his labour +until the day should break. He groped along the wall and over the +graves in the dark till he found himself round at the north side. +Here he entered the porch, and, reclining upon the bench within, +fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + + +THE GURGOYLE: ITS DOINGS + + +The tower of Weatherbury Church was a square erection of +fourteenth-century date, having two stone gurgoyles on each of the +four faces of its parapet. Of these eight carved protuberances +only two at this time continued to serve the purpose of their +erection--that of spouting the water from the lead roof within. One +mouth in each front had been closed by bygone church-wardens as +superfluous, and two others were broken away and choked--a matter not +of much consequence to the wellbeing of the tower, for the two mouths +which still remained open and active were gaping enough to do all the +work. + +It has been sometimes argued that there is no truer criterion of the +vitality of any given art-period than the power of the master-spirits +of that time in grotesque; and certainly in the instance of Gothic +art there is no disputing the proposition. Weatherbury tower was a +somewhat early instance of the use of an ornamental parapet in parish +as distinct from cathedral churches, and the gurgoyles, which are the +necessary correlatives of a parapet, were exceptionally prominent--of +the boldest cut that the hand could shape, and of the most original +design that a human brain could conceive. There was, so to speak, +that symmetry in their distortion which is less the characteristic +of British than of Continental grotesques of the period. All the +eight were different from each other. A beholder was convinced that +nothing on earth could be more hideous than those he saw on the north +side until he went round to the south. Of the two on this latter +face, only that at the south-eastern corner concerns the story. It +was too human to be called like a dragon, too impish to be like a +man, too animal to be like a fiend, and not enough like a bird to be +called a griffin. This horrible stone entity was fashioned as if +covered with a wrinkled hide; it had short, erect ears, eyes starting +from their sockets, and its fingers and hands were seizing the +corners of its mouth, which they thus seemed to pull open to give +free passage to the water it vomited. The lower row of teeth was +quite washed away, though the upper still remained. Here and thus, +jutting a couple of feet from the wall against which its feet rested +as a support, the creature had for four hundred years laughed at the +surrounding landscape, voicelessly in dry weather, and in wet with a +gurgling and snorting sound. + +Troy slept on in the porch, and the rain increased outside. Presently +the gurgoyle spat. In due time a small stream began to trickle +through the seventy feet of aerial space between its mouth and +the ground, which the water-drops smote like duckshot in their +accelerated velocity. The stream thickened in substance, and +increased in power, gradually spouting further and yet further from +the side of the tower. When the rain fell in a steady and ceaseless +torrent the stream dashed downward in volumes. + +We follow its course to the ground at this point of time. The end of +the liquid parabola has come forward from the wall, has advanced over +the plinth mouldings, over a heap of stones, over the marble border, +into the midst of Fanny Robin's grave. + +The force of the stream had, until very lately, been received upon +some loose stones spread thereabout, which had acted as a shield to +the soil under the onset. These during the summer had been cleared +from the ground, and there was now nothing to resist the down-fall +but the bare earth. For several years the stream had not spouted +so far from the tower as it was doing on this night, and such a +contingency had been over-looked. Sometimes this obscure corner +received no inhabitant for the space of two or three years, and +then it was usually but a pauper, a poacher, or other sinner of +undignified sins. + +The persistent torrent from the gurgoyle's jaws directed all its +vengeance into the grave. The rich tawny mould was stirred into +motion, and boiled like chocolate. The water accumulated and washed +deeper down, and the roar of the pool thus formed spread into the +night as the head and chief among other noises of the kind created +by the deluging rain. The flowers so carefully planted by Fanny's +repentant lover began to move and writhe in their bed. The +winter-violets turned slowly upside down, and became a mere mat of +mud. Soon the snowdrop and other bulbs danced in the boiling mass +like ingredients in a cauldron. Plants of the tufted species were +loosened, rose to the surface, and floated off. + +Troy did not awake from his comfortless sleep till it was broad day. +Not having been in bed for two nights his shoulders felt stiff, his +feet tender, and his head heavy. He remembered his position, arose, +shivered, took the spade, and again went out. + +The rain had quite ceased, and the sun was shining through the +green, brown, and yellow leaves, now sparkling and varnished by the +raindrops to the brightness of similar effects in the landscapes of +Ruysdael and Hobbema, and full of all those infinite beauties that +arise from the union of water and colour with high lights. The air +was rendered so transparent by the heavy fall of rain that the autumn +hues of the middle distance were as rich as those near at hand, and +the remote fields intercepted by the angle of the tower appeared in +the same plane as the tower itself. + +He entered the gravel path which would take him behind the tower. +The path, instead of being stony as it had been the night before, was +browned over with a thin coating of mud. At one place in the path +he saw a tuft of stringy roots washed white and clean as a bundle +of tendons. He picked it up--surely it could not be one of the +primroses he had planted? He saw a bulb, another, and another as +he advanced. Beyond doubt they were the crocuses. With a face of +perplexed dismay Troy turned the corner and then beheld the wreck +the stream had made. + +The pool upon the grave had soaked away into the ground, and in its +place was a hollow. The disturbed earth was washed over the grass +and pathway in the guise of the brown mud he had already seen, and it +spotted the marble tombstone with the same stains. Nearly all the +flowers were washed clean out of the ground, and they lay, roots +upwards, on the spots whither they had been splashed by the stream. + +Troy's brow became heavily contracted. He set his teeth closely, +and his compressed lips moved as those of one in great pain. This +singular accident, by a strange confluence of emotions in him, was +felt as the sharpest sting of all. Troy's face was very expressive, +and any observer who had seen him now would hardly have believed him +to be a man who had laughed, and sung, and poured love-trifles into +a woman's ear. To curse his miserable lot was at first his impulse, +but even that lowest stage of rebellion needed an activity whose +absence was necessarily antecedent to the existence of the morbid +misery which wrung him. The sight, coming as it did, superimposed +upon the other dark scenery of the previous days, formed a sort of +climax to the whole panorama, and it was more than he could endure. +Sanguine by nature, Troy had a power of eluding grief by simply +adjourning it. He could put off the consideration of any particular +spectre till the matter had become old and softened by time. The +planting of flowers on Fanny's grave had been perhaps but a species +of elusion of the primary grief, and now it was as if his intention +had been known and circumvented. + +Almost for the first time in his life, Troy, as he stood by this +dismantled grave, wished himself another man. It is seldom that a +person with much animal spirit does not feel that the fact of his +life being his own is the one qualification which singles it out as a +more hopeful life than that of others who may actually resemble him +in every particular. Troy had felt, in his transient way, hundreds +of times, that he could not envy other people their condition, +because the possession of that condition would have necessitated a +different personality, when he desired no other than his own. He had +not minded the peculiarities of his birth, the vicissitudes of his +life, the meteor-like uncertainty of all that related to him, because +these appertained to the hero of his story, without whom there would +have been no story at all for him; and it seemed to be only in the +nature of things that matters would right themselves at some proper +date and wind up well. This very morning the illusion completed its +disappearance, and, as it were, all of a sudden, Troy hated himself. +The suddenness was probably more apparent than real. A coral reef +which just comes short of the ocean surface is no more to the horizon +than if it had never been begun, and the mere finishing stroke is +what often appears to create an event which has long been potentially +an accomplished thing. + +He stood and meditated--a miserable man. Whither should he +go? "He that is accursed, let him be accursed still," was the +pitiless anathema written in this spoliated effort of his new-born +solicitousness. A man who has spent his primal strength in +journeying in one direction has not much spirit left for reversing +his course. Troy had, since yesterday, faintly reversed his; but the +merest opposition had disheartened him. To turn about would have +been hard enough under the greatest providential encouragement; but +to find that Providence, far from helping him into a new course, or +showing any wish that he might adopt one, actually jeered his first +trembling and critical attempt in that kind, was more than nature +could bear. + +He slowly withdrew from the grave. He did not attempt to fill up the +hole, replace the flowers, or do anything at all. He simply threw up +his cards and forswore his game for that time and always. Going out +of the churchyard silently and unobserved--none of the villagers +having yet risen--he passed down some fields at the back, and emerged +just as secretly upon the high road. Shortly afterwards he had gone +from the village. + +Meanwhile, Bathsheba remained a voluntary prisoner in the attic. The +door was kept locked, except during the entries and exits of Liddy, +for whom a bed had been arranged in a small adjoining room. The +light of Troy's lantern in the churchyard was noticed about ten +o'clock by the maid-servant, who casually glanced from the window in +that direction whilst taking her supper, and she called Bathsheba's +attention to it. They looked curiously at the phenomenon for a time, +until Liddy was sent to bed. + +Bathsheba did not sleep very heavily that night. When her attendant +was unconscious and softly breathing in the next room, the mistress +of the house was still looking out of the window at the faint gleam +spreading from among the trees--not in a steady shine, but blinking +like a revolving coast-light, though this appearance failed to +suggest to her that a person was passing and repassing in front +of it. Bathsheba sat here till it began to rain, and the light +vanished, when she withdrew to lie restlessly in her bed and re-enact +in a worn mind the lurid scene of yesternight. + +Almost before the first faint sign of dawn appeared she arose again, +and opened the window to obtain a full breathing of the new morning +air, the panes being now wet with trembling tears left by the night +rain, each one rounded with a pale lustre caught from primrose-hued +slashes through a cloud low down in the awakening sky. From the +trees came the sound of steady dripping upon the drifted leaves under +them, and from the direction of the church she could hear another +noise--peculiar, and not intermittent like the rest, the purl of +water falling into a pool. + +Liddy knocked at eight o'clock, and Bathsheba un-locked the door. + +"What a heavy rain we've had in the night, ma'am!" said Liddy, when +her inquiries about breakfast had been made. + +"Yes, very heavy." + +"Did you hear the strange noise from the churchyard?" + +"I heard one strange noise. I've been thinking it must have been the +water from the tower spouts." + +"Well, that's what the shepherd was saying, ma'am. He's now gone on +to see." + +"Oh! Gabriel has been here this morning!" + +"Only just looked in in passing--quite in his old way, which I +thought he had left off lately. But the tower spouts used to spatter +on the stones, and we are puzzled, for this was like the boiling of a +pot." + +Not being able to read, think, or work, Bathsheba asked Liddy to stay +and breakfast with her. The tongue of the more childish woman still +ran upon recent events. "Are you going across to the church, ma'am?" +she asked. + +"Not that I know of," said Bathsheba. + +"I thought you might like to go and see where they have put Fanny. +The trees hide the place from your window." + +Bathsheba had all sorts of dreads about meeting her husband. "Has +Mr. Troy been in to-night?" she said. + +"No, ma'am; I think he's gone to Budmouth." + +Budmouth! The sound of the word carried with it a much diminished +perspective of him and his deeds; there were thirteen miles interval +betwixt them now. She hated questioning Liddy about her husband's +movements, and indeed had hitherto sedulously avoided doing so; but +now all the house knew that there had been some dreadful disagreement +between them, and it was futile to attempt disguise. Bathsheba had +reached a stage at which people cease to have any appreciative regard +for public opinion. + +"What makes you think he has gone there?" she said. + +"Laban Tall saw him on the Budmouth road this morning before +breakfast." + +Bathsheba was momentarily relieved of that wayward heaviness of the +past twenty-four hours which had quenched the vitality of youth in +her without substituting the philosophy of maturer years, and she +resolved to go out and walk a little way. So when breakfast was +over, she put on her bonnet, and took a direction towards the church. +It was nine o'clock, and the men having returned to work again from +their first meal, she was not likely to meet many of them in the +road. Knowing that Fanny had been laid in the reprobates' quarter +of the graveyard, called in the parish "behind church," which was +invisible from the road, it was impossible to resist the impulse to +enter and look upon a spot which, from nameless feelings, she at +the same time dreaded to see. She had been unable to overcome an +impression that some connection existed between her rival and the +light through the trees. + +Bathsheba skirted the buttress, and beheld the hole and the tomb, its +delicately veined surface splashed and stained just as Troy had seen +it and left it two hours earlier. On the other side of the scene +stood Gabriel. His eyes, too, were fixed on the tomb, and her +arrival having been noiseless, she had not as yet attracted his +attention. Bathsheba did not at once perceive that the grand tomb +and the disturbed grave were Fanny's, and she looked on both sides +and around for some humbler mound, earthed up and clodded in the +usual way. Then her eye followed Oak's, and she read the words with +which the inscription opened:-- + + + ERECTED BY FRANCIS TROY + IN BELOVED MEMORY OF + FANNY ROBIN + + +Oak saw her, and his first act was to gaze inquiringly and learn how +she received this knowledge of the authorship of the work, which to +himself had caused considerable astonishment. But such discoveries +did not much affect her now. Emotional convulsions seemed to have +become the commonplaces of her history, and she bade him good +morning, and asked him to fill in the hole with the spade which +was standing by. Whilst Oak was doing as she desired, Bathsheba +collected the flowers, and began planting them with that sympathetic +manipulation of roots and leaves which is so conspicuous in a woman's +gardening, and which flowers seem to understand and thrive upon. She +requested Oak to get the churchwardens to turn the leadwork at the +mouth of the gurgoyle that hung gaping down upon them, that by this +means the stream might be directed sideways, and a repetition of the +accident prevented. Finally, with the superfluous magnanimity of +a woman whose narrower instincts have brought down bitterness upon +her instead of love, she wiped the mud spots from the tomb as if she +rather liked its words than otherwise, and went again home. [2] + + [Footnote 2: The local tower and churchyard do not answer + precisely to the foregoing description.] + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + + +ADVENTURES BY THE SHORE + + +Troy wandered along towards the south. A composite feeling, made up +of disgust with the, to him, humdrum tediousness of a farmer's life, +gloomy images of her who lay in the churchyard, remorse, and a +general averseness to his wife's society, impelled him to seek a +home in any place on earth save Weatherbury. The sad accessories of +Fanny's end confronted him as vivid pictures which threatened to be +indelible, and made life in Bathsheba's house intolerable. At three +in the afternoon he found himself at the foot of a slope more than +a mile in length, which ran to the ridge of a range of hills lying +parallel with the shore, and forming a monotonous barrier between +the basin of cultivated country inland and the wilder scenery of the +coast. Up the hill stretched a road nearly straight and perfectly +white, the two sides approaching each other in a gradual taper till +they met the sky at the top about two miles off. Throughout the +length of this narrow and irksome inclined plane not a sign of life +was visible on this garish afternoon. Troy toiled up the road with a +languor and depression greater than any he had experienced for many a +day and year before. The air was warm and muggy, and the top seemed +to recede as he approached. + +At last he reached the summit, and a wide and novel prospect burst +upon him with an effect almost like that of the Pacific upon Balboa's +gaze. The broad steely sea, marked only by faint lines, which had +a semblance of being etched thereon to a degree not deep enough to +disturb its general evenness, stretched the whole width of his front +and round to the right, where, near the town and port of Budmouth, +the sun bristled down upon it, and banished all colour, to substitute +in its place a clear oily polish. Nothing moved in sky, land, or +sea, except a frill of milkwhite foam along the nearer angles of the +shore, shreds of which licked the contiguous stones like tongues. + +He descended and came to a small basin of sea enclosed by the cliffs. +Troy's nature freshened within him; he thought he would rest and +bathe here before going farther. He undressed and plunged in. +Inside the cove the water was uninteresting to a swimmer, being +smooth as a pond, and to get a little of the ocean swell, Troy +presently swam between the two projecting spurs of rock which +formed the pillars of Hercules to this miniature Mediterranean. +Unfortunately for Troy a current unknown to him existed outside, +which, unimportant to craft of any burden, was awkward for a swimmer +who might be taken in it unawares. Troy found himself carried to +the left and then round in a swoop out to sea. + +He now recollected the place and its sinister character. Many +bathers had there prayed for a dry death from time to time, and, like +Gonzalo also, had been unanswered; and Troy began to deem it possible +that he might be added to their number. Not a boat of any kind was +at present within sight, but far in the distance Budmouth lay upon +the sea, as it were quietly regarding his efforts, and beside the +town the harbour showed its position by a dim meshwork of ropes and +spars. After well-nigh exhausting himself in attempts to get back to +the mouth of the cove, in his weakness swimming several inches deeper +than was his wont, keeping up his breathing entirely by his nostrils, +turning upon his back a dozen times over, swimming _en papillon_, and +so on, Troy resolved as a last resource to tread water at a slight +incline, and so endeavour to reach the shore at any point, merely +giving himself a gentle impetus inwards whilst carried on in the +general direction of the tide. This, necessarily a slow process, +he found to be not altogether so difficult, and though there was no +choice of a landing-place--the objects on shore passing by him in a +sad and slow procession--he perceptibly approached the extremity of a +spit of land yet further to the right, now well defined against the +sunny portion of the horizon. While the swimmer's eyes were fixed +upon the spit as his only means of salvation on this side of the +Unknown, a moving object broke the outline of the extremity, and +immediately a ship's boat appeared manned with several sailor lads, +her bows towards the sea. + +All Troy's vigour spasmodically revived to prolong the struggle yet a +little further. Swimming with his right arm, he held up his left to +hail them, splashing upon the waves, and shouting with all his might. +From the position of the setting sun his white form was distinctly +visible upon the now deep-hued bosom of the sea to the east of the +boat, and the men saw him at once. Backing their oars and putting +the boat about, they pulled towards him with a will, and in five or +six minutes from the time of his first halloo, two of the sailors +hauled him in over the stern. + +They formed part of a brig's crew, and had come ashore for sand. +Lending him what little clothing they could spare among them as a +slight protection against the rapidly cooling air, they agreed to +land him in the morning; and without further delay, for it was +growing late, they made again towards the roadstead where their +vessel lay. + +And now night drooped slowly upon the wide watery levels in front; +and at no great distance from them, where the shoreline curved round, +and formed a long riband of shade upon the horizon, a series of +points of yellow light began to start into existence, denoting the +spot to be the site of Budmouth, where the lamps were being lighted +along the parade. The cluck of their oars was the only sound of any +distinctness upon the sea, and as they laboured amid the thickening +shades the lamp-lights grew larger, each appearing to send a flaming +sword deep down into the waves before it, until there arose, among +other dim shapes of the kind, the form of the vessel for which they +were bound. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + + +DOUBTS ARISE--DOUBTS LINGER + + +Bathsheba underwent the enlargement of her husband's absence from +hours to days with a slight feeling of surprise, and a slight feeling +of relief; yet neither sensation rose at any time far above the +level commonly designated as indifference. She belonged to him: the +certainties of that position were so well defined, and the reasonable +probabilities of its issue so bounded that she could not speculate on +contingencies. Taking no further interest in herself as a splendid +woman, she acquired the indifferent feelings of an outsider in +contemplating her probable fate as a singular wretch; for Bathsheba +drew herself and her future in colours that no reality could exceed +for darkness. Her original vigorous pride of youth had sickened, +and with it had declined all her anxieties about coming years, since +anxiety recognizes a better and a worse alternative, and Bathsheba +had made up her mind that alternatives on any noteworthy scale had +ceased for her. Soon, or later--and that not very late--her husband +would be home again. And then the days of their tenancy of the Upper +Farm would be numbered. There had originally been shown by the agent +to the estate some distrust of Bathsheba's tenure as James Everdene's +successor, on the score of her sex, and her youth, and her beauty; +but the peculiar nature of her uncle's will, his own frequent +testimony before his death to her cleverness in such a pursuit, and +her vigorous marshalling of the numerous flocks and herds which came +suddenly into her hands before negotiations were concluded, had won +confidence in her powers, and no further objections had been raised. +She had latterly been in great doubt as to what the legal effects of +her marriage would be upon her position; but no notice had been taken +as yet of her change of name, and only one point was clear--that in +the event of her own or her husband's inability to meet the agent at +the forthcoming January rent-day, very little consideration would be +shown, and, for that matter, very little would be deserved. Once out +of the farm, the approach of poverty would be sure. + +Hence Bathsheba lived in a perception that her purposes were broken +off. She was not a woman who could hope on without good materials +for the process, differing thus from the less far-sighted and +energetic, though more petted ones of the sex, with whom hope goes +on as a sort of clockwork which the merest food and shelter are +sufficient to wind up; and perceiving clearly that her mistake had +been a fatal one, she accepted her position, and waited coldly for +the end. + +The first Saturday after Troy's departure she went to Casterbridge +alone, a journey she had not before taken since her marriage. On +this Saturday Bathsheba was passing slowly on foot through the crowd +of rural business-men gathered as usual in front of the market-house, +who were as usual gazed upon by the burghers with feelings that +those healthy lives were dearly paid for by exclusion from possible +aldermanship, when a man, who had apparently been following her, +said some words to another on her left hand. Bathsheba's ears were +keen as those of any wild animal, and she distinctly heard what the +speaker said, though her back was towards him. + +"I am looking for Mrs. Troy. Is that she there?" + +"Yes; that's the young lady, I believe," said the the person +addressed. + +"I have some awkward news to break to her. Her husband is drowned." + +As if endowed with the spirit of prophecy, Bathsheba gasped out, "No, +it is not true; it cannot be true!" Then she said and heard no more. +The ice of self-command which had latterly gathered over her was +broken, and the currents burst forth again, and overwhelmed her. A +darkness came into her eyes, and she fell. + +But not to the ground. A gloomy man, who had been observing her from +under the portico of the old corn-exchange when she passed through +the group without, stepped quickly to her side at the moment of her +exclamation, and caught her in his arms as she sank down. + +"What is it?" said Boldwood, looking up at the bringer of the big +news, as he supported her. + +"Her husband was drowned this week while bathing in Lulwind Cove. +A coastguardsman found his clothes, and brought them into Budmouth +yesterday." + +Thereupon a strange fire lighted up Boldwood's eye, and his face +flushed with the suppressed excitement of an unutterable thought. +Everybody's glance was now centred upon him and the unconscious +Bathsheba. He lifted her bodily off the ground, and smoothed down +the folds of her dress as a child might have taken a storm-beaten +bird and arranged its ruffled plumes, and bore her along the +pavement to the King's Arms Inn. Here he passed with her under the +archway into a private room; and by the time he had deposited--so +lothly--the precious burden upon a sofa, Bathsheba had opened her +eyes. Remembering all that had occurred, she murmured, "I want to go +home!" + +Boldwood left the room. He stood for a moment in the passage to +recover his senses. The experience had been too much for his +consciousness to keep up with, and now that he had grasped it it had +gone again. For those few heavenly, golden moments she had been in +his arms. What did it matter about her not knowing it? She had been +close to his breast; he had been close to hers. + +He started onward again, and sending a woman to her, went out to +ascertain all the facts of the case. These appeared to be limited to +what he had already heard. He then ordered her horse to be put into +the gig, and when all was ready returned to inform her. He found +that, though still pale and unwell, she had in the meantime sent for +the Budmouth man who brought the tidings, and learnt from him all +there was to know. + +Being hardly in a condition to drive home as she had driven to town, +Boldwood, with every delicacy of manner and feeling, offered to get +her a driver, or to give her a seat in his phaeton, which was more +comfortable than her own conveyance. These proposals Bathsheba +gently declined, and the farmer at once departed. + +About half-an-hour later she invigorated herself by an effort, and +took her seat and the reins as usual--in external appearance much +as if nothing had happened. She went out of the town by a tortuous +back street, and drove slowly along, unconscious of the road and the +scene. The first shades of evening were showing themselves when +Bathsheba reached home, where, silently alighting and leaving the +horse in the hands of the boy, she proceeded at once upstairs. +Liddy met her on the landing. The news had preceded Bathsheba to +Weatherbury by half-an-hour, and Liddy looked inquiringly into her +mistress's face. Bathsheba had nothing to say. + +She entered her bedroom and sat by the window, and thought and +thought till night enveloped her, and the extreme lines only of her +shape were visible. Somebody came to the door, knocked, and opened +it. + +"Well, what is it, Liddy?" she said. + +"I was thinking there must be something got for you to wear," said +Liddy, with hesitation. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Mourning." + +"No, no, no," said Bathsheba, hurriedly. + +"But I suppose there must be something done for poor--" + +"Not at present, I think. It is not necessary." + +"Why not, ma'am?" + +"Because he's still alive." + +"How do you know that?" said Liddy, amazed. + +"I don't know it. But wouldn't it have been different, or shouldn't +I have heard more, or wouldn't they have found him, Liddy?--or--I +don't know how it is, but death would have been different from how +this is. I am perfectly convinced that he is still alive!" + + +Bathsheba remained firm in this opinion till Monday, when two +circumstances conjoined to shake it. The first was a short paragraph +in the local newspaper, which, beyond making by a methodizing +pen formidable presumptive evidence of Troy's death by drowning, +contained the important testimony of a young Mr. Barker, M.D., of +Budmouth, who spoke to being an eyewitness of the accident, in a +letter to the editor. In this he stated that he was passing over the +cliff on the remoter side of the cove just as the sun was setting. +At that time he saw a bather carried along in the current outside the +mouth of the cove, and guessed in an instant that there was but a +poor chance for him unless he should be possessed of unusual muscular +powers. He drifted behind a projection of the coast, and Mr. Barker +followed along the shore in the same direction. But by the time that +he could reach an elevation sufficiently great to command a view of +the sea beyond, dusk had set in, and nothing further was to be seen. + +The other circumstance was the arrival of his clothes, when it became +necessary for her to examine and identify them--though this had +virtually been done long before by those who inspected the letters in +his pockets. It was so evident to her in the midst of her agitation +that Troy had undressed in the full conviction of dressing again +almost immediately, that the notion that anything but death could +have prevented him was a perverse one to entertain. + +Then Bathsheba said to herself that others were assured in their +opinion; strange that she should not be. A strange reflection +occurred to her, causing her face to flush. Suppose that Troy had +followed Fanny into another world. Had he done this intentionally, +yet contrived to make his death appear like an accident? +Nevertheless, this thought of how the apparent might differ from the +real--made vivid by her bygone jealousy of Fanny, and the remorse +he had shown that night--did not blind her to the perception of a +likelier difference, less tragic, but to herself far more disastrous. + +When alone late that evening beside a small fire, and much calmed +down, Bathsheba took Troy's watch into her hand, which had been +restored to her with the rest of the articles belonging to him. She +opened the case as he had opened it before her a week ago. There was +the little coil of pale hair which had been as the fuze to this great +explosion. + +"He was hers and she was his; they should be gone together," she +said. "I am nothing to either of them, and why should I keep +her hair?" She took it in her hand, and held it over the fire. +"No--I'll not burn it--I'll keep it in memory of her, poor thing!" +she added, snatching back her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + + +OAK'S ADVANCEMENT--A GREAT HOPE + + +The later autumn and the winter drew on apace, and the leaves lay +thick upon the turf of the glades and the mosses of the woods. +Bathsheba, having previously been living in a state of suspended +feeling which was not suspense, now lived in a mood of quietude which +was not precisely peacefulness. While she had known him to be alive +she could have thought of his death with equanimity; but now that it +might be she had lost him, she regretted that he was not hers still. +She kept the farm going, raked in her profits without caring keenly +about them, and expended money on ventures because she had done so +in bygone days, which, though not long gone by, seemed infinitely +removed from her present. She looked back upon that past over a +great gulf, as if she were now a dead person, having the faculty of +meditation still left in her, by means of which, like the mouldering +gentlefolk of the poet's story, she could sit and ponder what a gift +life used to be. + +However, one excellent result of her general apathy was the +long-delayed installation of Oak as bailiff; but he having virtually +exercised that function for a long time already, the change, beyond +the substantial increase of wages it brought, was little more than a +nominal one addressed to the outside world. + +Boldwood lived secluded and inactive. Much of his wheat and all his +barley of that season had been spoilt by the rain. It sprouted, +grew into intricate mats, and was ultimately thrown to the pigs in +armfuls. The strange neglect which had produced this ruin and waste +became the subject of whispered talk among all the people round; and +it was elicited from one of Boldwood's men that forgetfulness had +nothing to do with it, for he had been reminded of the danger to his +corn as many times and as persistently as inferiors dared to do. +The sight of the pigs turning in disgust from the rotten ears seemed +to arouse Boldwood, and he one evening sent for Oak. Whether it +was suggested by Bathsheba's recent act of promotion or not, the +farmer proposed at the interview that Gabriel should undertake the +superintendence of the Lower Farm as well as of Bathsheba's, because +of the necessity Boldwood felt for such aid, and the impossibility +of discovering a more trustworthy man. Gabriel's malignant star was +assuredly setting fast. + +Bathsheba, when she learnt of this proposal--for Oak was obliged to +consult her--at first languidly objected. She considered that the +two farms together were too extensive for the observation of one +man. Boldwood, who was apparently determined by personal rather than +commercial reasons, suggested that Oak should be furnished with a +horse for his sole use, when the plan would present no difficulty, +the two farms lying side by side. Boldwood did not directly +communicate with her during these negotiations, only speaking to Oak, +who was the go-between throughout. All was harmoniously arranged at +last, and we now see Oak mounted on a strong cob, and daily trotting +the length and breadth of about two thousand acres in a cheerful spirit +of surveillance, as if the crops all belonged to him--the actual +mistress of the one-half and the master of the other, sitting in +their respective homes in gloomy and sad seclusion. + +Out of this there arose, during the spring succeeding, a talk in the +parish that Gabriel Oak was feathering his nest fast. + +"Whatever d'ye think," said Susan Tall, "Gable Oak is coming it quite +the dand. He now wears shining boots with hardly a hob in 'em, two +or three times a-week, and a tall hat a-Sundays, and 'a hardly knows +the name of smockfrock. When I see people strut enough to be cut up +into bantam cocks, I stand dormant with wonder, and says no more!" + +It was eventually known that Gabriel, though paid a fixed wage by +Bathsheba independent of the fluctuations of agricultural profits, +had made an engagement with Boldwood by which Oak was to receive a +share of the receipts--a small share certainly, yet it was money of +a higher quality than mere wages, and capable of expansion in a way +that wages were not. Some were beginning to consider Oak a "near" +man, for though his condition had thus far improved, he lived in no +better style than before, occupying the same cottage, paring his own +potatoes, mending his stockings, and sometimes even making his bed +with his own hands. But as Oak was not only provokingly indifferent +to public opinion, but a man who clung persistently to old habits and +usages, simply because they were old, there was room for doubt as to +his motives. + +A great hope had latterly germinated in Boldwood, whose unreasoning +devotion to Bathsheba could only be characterized as a fond madness +which neither time nor circumstance, evil nor good report, could +weaken or destroy. This fevered hope had grown up again like a grain +of mustard-seed during the quiet which followed the hasty conjecture +that Troy was drowned. He nourished it fearfully, and almost shunned +the contemplation of it in earnest, lest facts should reveal the +wildness of the dream. Bathsheba having at last been persuaded to +wear mourning, her appearance as she entered the church in that +guise was in itself a weekly addition to his faith that a time was +coming--very far off perhaps, yet surely nearing--when his waiting on +events should have its reward. How long he might have to wait he had +not yet closely considered. What he would try to recognize was that +the severe schooling she had been subjected to had made Bathsheba +much more considerate than she had formerly been of the feelings of +others, and he trusted that, should she be willing at any time in the +future to marry any man at all, that man would be himself. There was +a substratum of good feeling in her: her self-reproach for the injury +she had thoughtlessly done him might be depended upon now to a much +greater extent than before her infatuation and disappointment. It +would be possible to approach her by the channel of her good nature, +and to suggest a friendly businesslike compact between them for +fulfilment at some future day, keeping the passionate side of his +desire entirely out of her sight. Such was Boldwood's hope. + +To the eyes of the middle-aged, Bathsheba was perhaps additionally +charming just now. Her exuberance of spirit was pruned down; the +original phantom of delight had shown herself to be not too bright +for human nature's daily food, and she had been able to enter this +second poetical phase without losing much of the first in the +process. + +Bathsheba's return from a two months' visit to her old aunt at +Norcombe afforded the impassioned and yearning farmer a pretext for +inquiring directly after her--now possibly in the ninth month of her +widowhood--and endeavouring to get a notion of her state of mind +regarding him. This occurred in the middle of the haymaking, and +Boldwood contrived to be near Liddy, who was assisting in the fields. + +"I am glad to see you out of doors, Lydia," he said pleasantly. + +She simpered, and wondered in her heart why he should speak so +frankly to her. + +"I hope Mrs. Troy is quite well after her long absence," he +continued, in a manner expressing that the coldest-hearted neighbour +could scarcely say less about her. + +"She is quite well, sir." + +"And cheerful, I suppose." + +"Yes, cheerful." + +"Fearful, did you say?" + +"Oh no. I merely said she was cheerful." + +"Tells you all her affairs?" + +"No, sir." + +"Some of them?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Mrs. Troy puts much confidence in you, Lydia, and very wisely, +perhaps." + +"She do, sir. I've been with her all through her troubles, and was +with her at the time of Mr. Troy's going and all. And if she were +to marry again I expect I should bide with her." + +"She promises that you shall--quite natural," said the strategic +lover, throbbing throughout him at the presumption which Liddy's +words appeared to warrant--that his darling had thought of +re-marriage. + +"No--she doesn't promise it exactly. I merely judge on my own +account." + +"Yes, yes, I understand. When she alludes to the possibility of +marrying again, you conclude--" + +"She never do allude to it, sir," said Liddy, thinking how very +stupid Mr. Boldwood was getting. + +"Of course not," he returned hastily, his hope falling again. "You +needn't take quite such long reaches with your rake, Lydia--short +and quick ones are best. Well, perhaps, as she is absolute mistress +again now, it is wise of her to resolve never to give up her +freedom." + +"My mistress did certainly once say, though not seriously, that she +supposed she might marry again at the end of seven years from last +year, if she cared to risk Mr. Troy's coming back and claiming her." + +"Ah, six years from the present time. Said that she might. She +might marry at once in every reasonable person's opinion, whatever +the lawyers may say to the contrary." + +"Have you been to ask them?" said Liddy, innocently. + +"Not I," said Boldwood, growing red. "Liddy, you needn't stay here +a minute later than you wish, so Mr. Oak says. I am now going on a +little farther. Good-afternoon." + +He went away vexed with himself, and ashamed of having for this one +time in his life done anything which could be called underhand. Poor +Boldwood had no more skill in finesse than a battering-ram, and he +was uneasy with a sense of having made himself to appear stupid and, +what was worse, mean. But he had, after all, lighted upon one fact +by way of repayment. It was a singularly fresh and fascinating fact, +and though not without its sadness it was pertinent and real. In +little more than six years from this time Bathsheba might certainly +marry him. There was something definite in that hope, for admitting +that there might have been no deep thought in her words to Liddy +about marriage, they showed at least her creed on the matter. + +This pleasant notion was now continually in his mind. Six years were +a long time, but how much shorter than never, the idea he had for so +long been obliged to endure! Jacob had served twice seven years for +Rachel: what were six for such a woman as this? He tried to like the +notion of waiting for her better than that of winning her at once. +Boldwood felt his love to be so deep and strong and eternal, that +it was possible she had never yet known its full volume, and this +patience in delay would afford him an opportunity of giving sweet +proof on the point. He would annihilate the six years of his life as +if they were minutes--so little did he value his time on earth beside +her love. He would let her see, all those six years of intangible +ethereal courtship, how little care he had for anything but as it +bore upon the consummation. + +Meanwhile the early and the late summer brought round the week in +which Greenhill Fair was held. This fair was frequently attended by +the folk of Weatherbury. + + + + +CHAPTER L + + +THE SHEEP FAIR--TROY TOUCHES HIS WIFE'S HAND + + +Greenhill was the Nijni Novgorod of South Wessex; and the busiest, +merriest, noisiest day of the whole statute number was the day of +the sheep fair. This yearly gathering was upon the summit of a +hill which retained in good preservation the remains of an ancient +earthwork, consisting of a huge rampart and entrenchment of an oval +form encircling the top of the hill, though somewhat broken down here +and there. To each of the two chief openings on opposite sides a +winding road ascended, and the level green space of ten or fifteen +acres enclosed by the bank was the site of the fair. A few permanent +erections dotted the spot, but the majority of visitors patronized +canvas alone for resting and feeding under during the time of their +sojourn here. + +Shepherds who attended with their flocks from long distances started +from home two or three days, or even a week, before the fair, driving +their charges a few miles each day--not more than ten or twelve--and +resting them at night in hired fields by the wayside at previously +chosen points, where they fed, having fasted since morning. The +shepherd of each flock marched behind, a bundle containing his kit +for the week strapped upon his shoulders, and in his hand his crook, +which he used as the staff of his pilgrimage. Several of the sheep +would get worn and lame, and occasionally a lambing occurred on the +road. To meet these contingencies, there was frequently provided, to +accompany the flocks from the remoter points, a pony and waggon into +which the weakly ones were taken for the remainder of the journey. + +The Weatherbury Farms, however, were no such long distance from the +hill, and those arrangements were not necessary in their case. But +the large united flocks of Bathsheba and Farmer Boldwood formed a +valuable and imposing multitude which demanded much attention, and +on this account Gabriel, in addition to Boldwood's shepherd and Cain +Ball, accompanied them along the way, through the decayed old town of +Kingsbere, and upward to the plateau,--old George the dog of course +behind them. + +When the autumn sun slanted over Greenhill this morning and lighted +the dewy flat upon its crest, nebulous clouds of dust were to be seen +floating between the pairs of hedges which streaked the wide prospect +around in all directions. These gradually converged upon the base of +the hill, and the flocks became individually visible, climbing the +serpentine ways which led to the top. Thus, in a slow procession, +they entered the opening to which the roads tended, multitude after +multitude, horned and hornless--blue flocks and red flocks, buff +flocks and brown flocks, even green and salmon-tinted flocks, +according to the fancy of the colourist and custom of the farm. +Men were shouting, dogs were barking, with greatest animation, but +the thronging travellers in so long a journey had grown nearly +indifferent to such terrors, though they still bleated piteously at +the unwontedness of their experiences, a tall shepherd rising here +and there in the midst of them, like a gigantic idol amid a crowd +of prostrate devotees. + +The great mass of sheep in the fair consisted of South Downs and the +old Wessex horned breeds; to the latter class Bathsheba's and Farmer +Boldwood's mainly belonged. These filed in about nine o'clock, their +vermiculated horns lopping gracefully on each side of their cheeks in +geometrically perfect spirals, a small pink and white ear nestling +under each horn. Before and behind came other varieties, perfect +leopards as to the full rich substance of their coats, and only +lacking the spots. There were also a few of the Oxfordshire breed, +whose wool was beginning to curl like a child's flaxen hair, though +surpassed in this respect by the effeminate Leicesters, which were in +turn less curly than the Cotswolds. But the most picturesque by far +was a small flock of Exmoors, which chanced to be there this year. +Their pied faces and legs, dark and heavy horns, tresses of wool +hanging round their swarthy foreheads, quite relieved the monotony +of the flocks in that quarter. + +All these bleating, panting, and weary thousands had entered and were +penned before the morning had far advanced, the dog belonging to each +flock being tied to the corner of the pen containing it. Alleys for +pedestrians intersected the pens, which soon became crowded with +buyers and sellers from far and near. + +In another part of the hill an altogether different scene began +to force itself upon the eye towards midday. A circular tent, of +exceptional newness and size, was in course of erection here. As +the day drew on, the flocks began to change hands, lightening the +shepherd's responsibilities; and they turned their attention to +this tent and inquired of a man at work there, whose soul seemed +concentrated on tying a bothering knot in no time, what was going +on. + +"The Royal Hippodrome Performance of Turpin's Ride to York and the +Death of Black Bess," replied the man promptly, without turning his +eyes or leaving off tying. + +As soon as the tent was completed the band struck up highly +stimulating harmonies, and the announcement was publicly made, Black +Bess standing in a conspicuous position on the outside, as a living +proof, if proof were wanted, of the truth of the oracular utterances +from the stage over which the people were to enter. These were so +convinced by such genuine appeals to heart and understanding both +that they soon began to crowd in abundantly, among the foremost being +visible Jan Coggan and Joseph Poorgrass, who were holiday keeping +here to-day. + +"That's the great ruffen pushing me!" screamed a woman in front of +Jan over her shoulder at him when the rush was at its fiercest. + +"How can I help pushing ye when the folk behind push me?" said +Coggan, in a deprecating tone, turning his head towards the aforesaid +folk as far as he could without turning his body, which was jammed as +in a vice. + +There was a silence; then the drums and trumpets again sent forth +their echoing notes. The crowd was again ecstasied, and gave another +lurch in which Coggan and Poorgrass were again thrust by those behind +upon the women in front. + +"Oh that helpless feymels should be at the mercy of such ruffens!" +exclaimed one of these ladies again, as she swayed like a reed shaken +by the wind. + +"Now," said Coggan, appealing in an earnest voice to the public at +large as it stood clustered about his shoulder-blades, "did ye ever +hear such onreasonable woman as that? Upon my carcase, neighbours, +if I could only get out of this cheese-wring, the damn women might +eat the show for me!" + +"Don't ye lose yer temper, Jan!" implored Joseph Poorgrass, in a +whisper. "They might get their men to murder us, for I think by the +shine of their eyes that they be a sinful form of womankind." + +Jan held his tongue, as if he had no objection to be pacified to +please a friend, and they gradually reached the foot of the ladder, +Poorgrass being flattened like a jumping-jack, and the sixpence, for +admission, which he had got ready half-an-hour earlier, having become +so reeking hot in the tight squeeze of his excited hand that the +woman in spangles, brazen rings set with glass diamonds, and with +chalked face and shoulders, who took the money of him, hastily +dropped it again from a fear that some trick had been played to burn +her fingers. So they all entered, and the cloth of the tent, to the +eyes of an observer on the outside, became bulged into innumerable +pimples such as we observe on a sack of potatoes, caused by the +various human heads, backs, and elbows at high pressure within. + +At the rear of the large tent there were two small dressing-tents. +One of these, alloted to the male performers, was partitioned into +halves by a cloth; and in one of the divisions there was sitting on +the grass, pulling on a pair of jack-boots, a young man whom we +instantly recognise as Sergeant Troy. + +Troy's appearance in this position may be briefly accounted for. The +brig aboard which he was taken in Budmouth Roads was about to start +on a voyage, though somewhat short of hands. Troy read the articles +and joined, but before they sailed a boat was despatched across the +bay to Lulwind cove; as he had half expected, his clothes were gone. +He ultimately worked his passage to the United States, where he made +a precarious living in various towns as Professor of Gymnastics, +Sword Exercise, Fencing, and Pugilism. A few months were sufficient +to give him a distaste for this kind of life. There was a certain +animal form of refinement in his nature; and however pleasant a +strange condition might be whilst privations were easily warded off, +it was disadvantageously coarse when money was short. There was ever +present, too, the idea that he could claim a home and its comforts +did he but chose to return to England and Weatherbury Farm. Whether +Bathsheba thought him dead was a frequent subject of curious +conjecture. To England he did return at last; but the fact of +drawing nearer to Weatherbury abstracted its fascinations, and his +intention to enter his old groove at the place became modified. It +was with gloom he considered on landing at Liverpool that if he +were to go home his reception would be of a kind very unpleasant +to contemplate; for what Troy had in the way of emotion was an +occasional fitful sentiment which sometimes caused him as much +inconvenience as emotion of a strong and healthy kind. Bathsheba was +not a woman to be made a fool of, or a woman to suffer in silence; +and how could he endure existence with a spirited wife to whom at +first entering he would be beholden for food and lodging? Moreover, +it was not at all unlikely that his wife would fail at her farming, +if she had not already done so; and he would then become liable for +her maintenance: and what a life such a future of poverty with her +would be, the spectre of Fanny constantly between them, harrowing +his temper and embittering her words! Thus, for reasons touching on +distaste, regret, and shame commingled, he put off his return from +day to day, and would have decided to put it off altogether if he +could have found anywhere else the ready-made establishment which +existed for him there. + +At this time--the July preceding the September in which we find +at Greenhill Fair--he fell in with a travelling circus which was +performing in the outskirts of a northern town. Troy introduced +himself to the manager by taming a restive horse of the troupe, +hitting a suspended apple with a pistol-bullet fired from the +animal's back when in full gallop, and other feats. For his +merits in these--all more or less based upon his experiences as a +dragoon-guardsman--Troy was taken into the company, and the play +of Turpin was prepared with a view to his personation of the chief +character. Troy was not greatly elated by the appreciative spirit in +which he was undoubtedly treated, but he thought the engagement might +afford him a few weeks for consideration. It was thus carelessly, +and without having formed any definite plan for the future, that Troy +found himself at Greenhill Fair with the rest of the company on this +day. + +And now the mild autumn sun got lower, and in front of the pavilion +the following incident had taken place. Bathsheba--who was driven +to the fair that day by her odd man Poorgrass--had, like every one +else, read or heard the announcement that Mr. Francis, the Great +Cosmopolitan Equestrian and Roughrider, would enact the part of +Turpin, and she was not yet too old and careworn to be without a +little curiosity to see him. This particular show was by far the +largest and grandest in the fair, a horde of little shows grouping +themselves under its shade like chickens around a hen. The crowd had +passed in, and Boldwood, who had been watching all the day for an +opportunity of speaking to her, seeing her comparatively isolated, +came up to her side. + +"I hope the sheep have done well to-day, Mrs. Troy?" he said, +nervously. + +"Oh yes, thank you," said Bathsheba, colour springing up in the +centre of her cheeks. "I was fortunate enough to sell them all just +as we got upon the hill, so we hadn't to pen at all." + +"And now you are entirely at leisure?" + +"Yes, except that I have to see one more dealer in two hours' time: +otherwise I should be going home. He was looking at this large tent +and the announcement. Have you ever seen the play of 'Turpin's Ride +to York'? Turpin was a real man, was he not?" + +"Oh yes, perfectly true--all of it. Indeed, I think I've heard Jan +Coggan say that a relation of his knew Tom King, Turpin's friend, +quite well." + +"Coggan is rather given to strange stories connected with his +relations, we must remember. I hope they can all be believed." + +"Yes, yes; we know Coggan. But Turpin is true enough. You have +never seen it played, I suppose?" + +"Never. I was not allowed to go into these places when I was young. +Hark! What's that prancing? How they shout!" + +"Black Bess just started off, I suppose. Am I right in supposing +you would like to see the performance, Mrs. Troy? Please excuse my +mistake, if it is one; but if you would like to, I'll get a seat for +you with pleasure." Perceiving that she hesitated, he added, "I +myself shall not stay to see it: I've seen it before." + +Now Bathsheba did care a little to see the show, and had only +withheld her feet from the ladder because she feared to go in alone. +She had been hoping that Oak might appear, whose assistance in such +cases was always accepted as an inalienable right, but Oak was +nowhere to be seen; and hence it was that she said, "Then if you will +just look in first, to see if there's room, I think I will go in for +a minute or two." + +And so a short time after this Bathsheba appeared in the tent with +Boldwood at her elbow, who, taking her to a "reserved" seat, again +withdrew. + +This feature consisted of one raised bench in a very conspicuous +part of the circle, covered with red cloth, and floored with a piece +of carpet, and Bathsheba immediately found, to her confusion, that +she was the single reserved individual in the tent, the rest of +the crowded spectators, one and all, standing on their legs on the +borders of the arena, where they got twice as good a view of the +performance for half the money. Hence as many eyes were turned upon +her, enthroned alone in this place of honour, against a scarlet +background, as upon the ponies and clown who were engaged in +preliminary exploits in the centre, Turpin not having yet appeared. +Once there, Bathsheba was forced to make the best of it and remain: +she sat down, spreading her skirts with some dignity over the +unoccupied space on each side of her, and giving a new and feminine +aspect to the pavilion. In a few minutes she noticed the fat red +nape of Coggan's neck among those standing just below her, and Joseph +Poorgrass's saintly profile a little further on. + +The interior was shadowy with a peculiar shade. The strange luminous +semi-opacities of fine autumn afternoons and eves intensified into +Rembrandt effects the few yellow sunbeams which came through holes +and divisions in the canvas, and spirted like jets of gold-dust +across the dusky blue atmosphere of haze pervading the tent, until +they alighted on inner surfaces of cloth opposite, and shone like +little lamps suspended there. + +Troy, on peeping from his dressing-tent through a slit for a +reconnoitre before entering, saw his unconscious wife on high before +him as described, sitting as queen of the tournament. He started +back in utter confusion, for although his disguise effectually +concealed his personality, he instantly felt that she would be sure +to recognize his voice. He had several times during the day thought +of the possibility of some Weatherbury person or other appearing and +recognizing him; but he had taken the risk carelessly. If they see +me, let them, he had said. But here was Bathsheba in her own person; +and the reality of the scene was so much intenser than any of his +prefigurings that he felt he had not half enough considered the +point. + +She looked so charming and fair that his cool mood about Weatherbury +people was changed. He had not expected her to exercise this power +over him in the twinkling of an eye. Should he go on, and care +nothing? He could not bring himself to do that. Beyond a politic +wish to remain unknown, there suddenly arose in him now a sense of +shame at the possibility that his attractive young wife, who already +despised him, should despise him more by discovering him in so mean a +condition after so long a time. He actually blushed at the thought, +and was vexed beyond measure that his sentiments of dislike towards +Weatherbury should have led him to dally about the country in this +way. + +But Troy was never more clever than when absolutely at his wit's end. +He hastily thrust aside the curtain dividing his own little dressing +space from that of the manager and proprietor, who now appeared as +the individual called Tom King as far down as his waist, and as the +aforesaid respectable manager thence to his toes. + +"Here's the devil to pay!" said Troy. + +"How's that?" + +"Why, there's a blackguard creditor in the tent I don't want to see, +who'll discover me and nab me as sure as Satan if I open my mouth. +What's to be done?" + +"You must appear now, I think." + +"I can't." + +"But the play must proceed." + +"Do you give out that Turpin has got a bad cold, and can't speak his +part, but that he'll perform it just the same without speaking." + +The proprietor shook his head. + +"Anyhow, play or no play, I won't open my mouth," said Troy, firmly. + +"Very well, then let me see. I tell you how we'll manage," said the +other, who perhaps felt it would be extremely awkward to offend his +leading man just at this time. "I won't tell 'em anything about your +keeping silence; go on with the piece and say nothing, doing what +you can by a judicious wink now and then, and a few indomitable nods +in the heroic places, you know. They'll never find out that the +speeches are omitted." + +This seemed feasible enough, for Turpin's speeches were not many or +long, the fascination of the piece lying entirely in the action; and +accordingly the play began, and at the appointed time Black Bess +leapt into the grassy circle amid the plaudits of the spectators. +At the turnpike scene, where Bess and Turpin are hotly pursued at +midnight by the officers, and the half-awake gatekeeper in his +tasselled nightcap denies that any horseman has passed, Coggan +uttered a broad-chested "Well done!" which could be heard all over +the fair above the bleating, and Poorgrass smiled delightedly with a +nice sense of dramatic contrast between our hero, who coolly leaps +the gate, and halting justice in the form of his enemies, who must +needs pull up cumbersomely and wait to be let through. At the death +of Tom King, he could not refrain from seizing Coggan by the hand, +and whispering, with tears in his eyes, "Of course he's not really +shot, Jan--only seemingly!" And when the last sad scene came on, and +the body of the gallant and faithful Bess had to be carried out on a +shutter by twelve volunteers from among the spectators, nothing could +restrain Poorgrass from lending a hand, exclaiming, as he asked +Jan to join him, "Twill be something to tell of at Warren's in +future years, Jan, and hand down to our children." For many a year +in Weatherbury, Joseph told, with the air of a man who had had +experiences in his time, that he touched with his own hand the hoof +of Bess as she lay upon the board upon his shoulder. If, as some +thinkers hold, immortality consists in being enshrined in others' +memories, then did Black Bess become immortal that day if she never +had done so before. + +Meanwhile Troy had added a few touches to his ordinary make-up for +the character, the more effectually to disguise himself, and though +he had felt faint qualms on first entering, the metamorphosis +effected by judiciously "lining" his face with a wire rendered him +safe from the eyes of Bathsheba and her men. Nevertheless, he was +relieved when it was got through. + +There was a second performance in the evening, and the tent was +lighted up. Troy had taken his part very quietly this time, +venturing to introduce a few speeches on occasion; and was just +concluding it when, whilst standing at the edge of the circle +contiguous to the first row of spectators, he observed within a +yard of him the eye of a man darted keenly into his side features. +Troy hastily shifted his position, after having recognized in the +scrutineer the knavish bailiff Pennyways, his wife's sworn enemy, +who still hung about the outskirts of Weatherbury. + +At first Troy resolved to take no notice and abide by circumstances. +That he had been recognized by this man was highly probable; yet +there was room for a doubt. Then the great objection he had felt to +allowing news of his proximity to precede him to Weatherbury in the +event of his return, based on a feeling that knowledge of his present +occupation would discredit him still further in his wife's eyes, +returned in full force. Moreover, should he resolve not to return at +all, a tale of his being alive and being in the neighbourhood would +be awkward; and he was anxious to acquire a knowledge of his wife's +temporal affairs before deciding which to do. + +In this dilemma Troy at once went out to reconnoitre. It occurred +to him that to find Pennyways, and make a friend of him if possible, +would be a very wise act. He had put on a thick beard borrowed from +the establishment, and in this he wandered about the fair-field. It +was now almost dark, and respectable people were getting their carts +and gigs ready to go home. + +The largest refreshment booth in the fair was provided by an +innkeeper from a neighbouring town. This was considered an +unexceptionable place for obtaining the necessary food and rest: +Host Trencher (as he was jauntily called by the local newspaper) +being a substantial man of high repute for catering through all the +country round. The tent was divided into first and second-class +compartments, and at the end of the first-class division was a yet +further enclosure for the most exclusive, fenced off from the body +of the tent by a luncheon-bar, behind which the host himself stood +bustling about in white apron and shirt-sleeves, and looking as if +he had never lived anywhere but under canvas all his life. In these +penetralia were chairs and a table, which, on candles being lighted, +made quite a cozy and luxurious show, with an urn, plated tea and +coffee pots, china teacups, and plum cakes. + +Troy stood at the entrance to the booth, where a gipsy-woman was +frying pancakes over a little fire of sticks and selling them at a +penny a-piece, and looked over the heads of the people within. He +could see nothing of Pennyways, but he soon discerned Bathsheba +through an opening into the reserved space at the further end. Troy +thereupon retreated, went round the tent into the darkness, and +listened. He could hear Bathsheba's voice immediately inside the +canvas; she was conversing with a man. A warmth overspread his +face: surely she was not so unprincipled as to flirt in a fair! +He wondered if, then, she reckoned upon his death as an absolute +certainty. To get at the root of the matter, Troy took a penknife +from his pocket and softly made two little cuts crosswise in the +cloth, which, by folding back the corners left a hole the size of a +wafer. Close to this he placed his face, withdrawing it again in a +movement of surprise; for his eye had been within twelve inches of +the top of Bathsheba's head. It was too near to be convenient. He +made another hole a little to one side and lower down, in a shaded +place beside her chair, from which it was easy and safe to survey +her by looking horizontally. + +Troy took in the scene completely now. She was leaning back, sipping +a cup of tea that she held in her hand, and the owner of the male +voice was Boldwood, who had apparently just brought the cup to her, +Bathsheba, being in a negligent mood, leant so idly against the +canvas that it was pressed to the shape of her shoulder, and she was, +in fact, as good as in Troy's arms; and he was obliged to keep his +breast carefully backward that she might not feel its warmth through +the cloth as he gazed in. + +Troy found unexpected chords of feeling to be stirred again within +him as they had been stirred earlier in the day. She was handsome +as ever, and she was his. It was some minutes before he could +counteract his sudden wish to go in, and claim her. Then he thought +how the proud girl who had always looked down upon him even whilst it +was to love him, would hate him on discovering him to be a strolling +player. Were he to make himself known, that chapter of his life +must at all risks be kept for ever from her and from the Weatherbury +people, or his name would be a byword throughout the parish. He +would be nicknamed "Turpin" as long as he lived. Assuredly before +he could claim her these few past months of his existence must be +entirely blotted out. + +"Shall I get you another cup before you start, ma'am?" said Farmer +Boldwood. + +"Thank you," said Bathsheba. "But I must be going at once. It was +great neglect in that man to keep me waiting here till so late. I +should have gone two hours ago, if it had not been for him. I had no +idea of coming in here; but there's nothing so refreshing as a cup of +tea, though I should never have got one if you hadn't helped me." + +Troy scrutinized her cheek as lit by the candles, and watched each +varying shade thereon, and the white shell-like sinuosities of her +little ear. She took out her purse and was insisting to Boldwood on +paying for her tea for herself, when at this moment Pennyways entered +the tent. Troy trembled: here was his scheme for respectability +endangered at once. He was about to leave his hole of espial, +attempt to follow Pennyways, and find out if the ex-bailiff had +recognized him, when he was arrested by the conversation, and found +he was too late. + +"Excuse me, ma'am," said Pennyways; "I've some private information +for your ear alone." + +"I cannot hear it now," she said, coldly. That Bathsheba could not +endure this man was evident; in fact, he was continually coming to +her with some tale or other, by which he might creep into favour at +the expense of persons maligned. + +"I'll write it down," said Pennyways, confidently. He stooped over +the table, pulled a leaf from a warped pocket-book, and wrote upon +the paper, in a round hand-- + +"YOUR HUSBAND IS HERE. I'VE SEEN HIM. WHO'S THE FOOL NOW?" + +This he folded small, and handed towards her. Bathsheba would not +read it; she would not even put out her hand to take it. Pennyways, +then, with a laugh of derision, tossed it into her lap, and, turning +away, left her. + +From the words and action of Pennyways, Troy, though he had not been +able to see what the ex-bailiff wrote, had not a moment's doubt that +the note referred to him. Nothing that he could think of could be +done to check the exposure. "Curse my luck!" he whispered, and +added imprecations which rustled in the gloom like a pestilent wind. +Meanwhile Boldwood said, taking up the note from her lap-- + +"Don't you wish to read it, Mrs. Troy? If not, I'll destroy it." + +"Oh, well," said Bathsheba, carelessly, "perhaps it is unjust not to +read it; but I can guess what it is about. He wants me to recommend +him, or it is to tell me of some little scandal or another connected +with my work-people. He's always doing that." + +Bathsheba held the note in her right hand. Boldwood handed towards +her a plate of cut bread-and-butter; when, in order to take a slice, +she put the note into her left hand, where she was still holding +the purse, and then allowed her hand to drop beside her close to +the canvas. The moment had come for saving his game, and Troy +impulsively felt that he would play the card. For yet another time +he looked at the fair hand, and saw the pink finger-tips, and the +blue veins of the wrist, encircled by a bracelet of coral chippings +which she wore: how familiar it all was to him! Then, with the +lightning action in which he was such an adept, he noiselessly +slipped his hand under the bottom of the tent-cloth, which was far +from being pinned tightly down, lifted it a little way, keeping his +eye to the hole, snatched the note from her fingers, dropped the +canvas, and ran away in the gloom towards the bank and ditch, smiling +at the scream of astonishment which burst from her. Troy then slid +down on the outside of the rampart, hastened round in the bottom of +the entrenchment to a distance of a hundred yards, ascended again, +and crossed boldly in a slow walk towards the front entrance of +the tent. His object was now to get to Pennyways, and prevent a +repetition of the announcement until such time as he should choose. + +Troy reached the tent door, and standing among the groups there +gathered, looked anxiously for Pennyways, evidently not wishing to +make himself prominent by inquiring for him. One or two men were +speaking of a daring attempt that had just been made to rob a young +lady by lifting the canvas of the tent beside her. It was supposed +that the rogue had imagined a slip of paper which she held in her +hand to be a bank note, for he had seized it, and made off with +it, leaving her purse behind. His chagrin and disappointment at +discovering its worthlessness would be a good joke, it was said. +However, the occurrence seemed to have become known to few, for it +had not interrupted a fiddler, who had lately begun playing by the +door of the tent, nor the four bowed old men with grim countenances +and walking-sticks in hand, who were dancing "Major Malley's Reel" +to the tune. Behind these stood Pennyways. Troy glided up to him, +beckoned, and whispered a few words; and with a mutual glance of +concurrence the two men went into the night together. + + + + +CHAPTER LI + + +BATHSHEBA TALKS WITH HER OUTRIDER + + +The arrangement for getting back again to Weatherbury had been that +Oak should take the place of Poorgrass in Bathsheba's conveyance and +drive her home, it being discovered late in the afternoon that Joseph +was suffering from his old complaint, a multiplying eye, and was, +therefore, hardly trustworthy as coachman and protector to a woman. +But Oak had found himself so occupied, and was full of so many +cares relative to those portions of Boldwood's flocks that were not +disposed of, that Bathsheba, without telling Oak or anybody, resolved +to drive home herself, as she had many times done from Casterbridge +Market, and trust to her good angel for performing the journey +unmolested. But having fallen in with Farmer Boldwood accidentally +(on her part at least) at the refreshment-tent, she found it +impossible to refuse his offer to ride on horseback beside her as +escort. It had grown twilight before she was aware, but Boldwood +assured her that there was no cause for uneasiness, as the moon +would be up in half-an-hour. + +Immediately after the incident in the tent, she had risen to +go--now absolutely alarmed and really grateful for her old lover's +protection--though regretting Gabriel's absence, whose company she +would have much preferred, as being more proper as well as more +pleasant, since he was her own managing-man and servant. This, +however, could not be helped; she would not, on any consideration, +treat Boldwood harshly, having once already ill-used him, and the +moon having risen, and the gig being ready, she drove across the +hilltop in the wending way's which led downwards--to oblivious +obscurity, as it seemed, for the moon and the hill it flooded with +light were in appearance on a level, the rest of the world lying as +a vast shady concave between them. Boldwood mounted his horse, and +followed in close attendance behind. Thus they descended into the +lowlands, and the sounds of those left on the hill came like voices +from the sky, and the lights were as those of a camp in heaven. They +soon passed the merry stragglers in the immediate vicinity of the +hill, traversed Kingsbere, and got upon the high road. + +The keen instincts of Bathsheba had perceived that the farmer's +staunch devotion to herself was still undiminished, and she +sympathized deeply. The sight had quite depressed her this evening; +had reminded her of her folly; she wished anew, as she had wished +many months ago, for some means of making reparation for her fault. +Hence her pity for the man who so persistently loved on to his own +injury and permanent gloom had betrayed Bathsheba into an injudicious +considerateness of manner, which appeared almost like tenderness, +and gave new vigour to the exquisite dream of a Jacob's seven years +service in poor Boldwood's mind. + +He soon found an excuse for advancing from his position in the rear, +and rode close by her side. They had gone two or three miles in +the moonlight, speaking desultorily across the wheel of her gig +concerning the fair, farming, Oak's usefulness to them both, and +other indifferent subjects, when Boldwood said suddenly and simply-- + +"Mrs. Troy, you will marry again some day?" + +This point-blank query unmistakably confused her, and it was not till +a minute or more had elapsed that she said, "I have not seriously +thought of any such subject." + +"I quite understand that. Yet your late husband has been dead nearly +one year, and--" + +"You forget that his death was never absolutely proved, and may not +have taken place; so that I may not be really a widow," she said, +catching at the straw of escape that the fact afforded. + +"Not absolutely proved, perhaps, but it was proved circumstantially. +A man saw him drowning, too. No reasonable person has any doubt of +his death; nor have you, ma'am, I should imagine." + +"I have none now, or I should have acted differently," she said, +gently. "I certainly, at first, had a strange unaccountable feeling +that he could not have perished, but I have been able to explain that +in several ways since. But though I am fully persuaded that I shall +see him no more, I am far from thinking of marriage with another. I +should be very contemptible to indulge in such a thought." + +They were silent now awhile, and having struck into an unfrequented +track across a common, the creaks of Boldwood's saddle and her gig +springs were all the sounds to be heard. Boldwood ended the pause. + +"Do you remember when I carried you fainting in my arms into the +King's Arms, in Casterbridge? Every dog has his day: that was mine." + +"I know--I know it all," she said, hurriedly. + +"I, for one, shall never cease regretting that events so fell out as +to deny you to me." + +"I, too, am very sorry," she said, and then checked herself. "I +mean, you know, I am sorry you thought I--" + +"I have always this dreary pleasure in thinking over those past times +with you--that I was something to you before HE was anything, and +that you belonged ALMOST to me. But, of course, that's nothing. You +never liked me." + +"I did; and respected you, too." + +"Do you now?" + +"Yes." + +"Which?" + +"How do you mean which?" + +"Do you like me, or do you respect me?" + +"I don't know--at least, I cannot tell you. It is difficult for a +woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men +to express theirs. My treatment of you was thoughtless, inexcusable, +wicked! I shall eternally regret it. If there had been anything +I could have done to make amends I would most gladly have done +it--there was nothing on earth I so longed to do as to repair the +error. But that was not possible." + +"Don't blame yourself--you were not so far in the wrong as you +suppose. Bathsheba, suppose you had real complete proof that you are +what, in fact, you are--a widow--would you repair the old wrong to me +by marrying me?" + +"I cannot say. I shouldn't yet, at any rate." + +"But you might at some future time of your life?" + +"Oh yes, I might at some time." + +"Well, then, do you know that without further proof of any kind you +may marry again in about six years from the present--subject to +nobody's objection or blame?" + +"Oh yes," she said, quickly. "I know all that. But don't talk of +it--seven or six years--where may we all be by that time?" + +"They will soon glide by, and it will seem an astonishingly short +time to look back upon when they are past--much less than to look +forward to now." + +"Yes, yes; I have found that in my own experience." + +"Now listen once more," Boldwood pleaded. "If I wait that time, will +you marry me? You own that you owe me amends--let that be your way +of making them." + +"But, Mr. Boldwood--six years--" + +"Do you want to be the wife of any other man?" + +"No indeed! I mean, that I don't like to talk about this matter now. +Perhaps it is not proper, and I ought not to allow it. Let us drop +it. My husband may be living, as I said." + +"Of course, I'll drop the subject if you wish. But propriety has +nothing to do with reasons. I am a middle-aged man, willing to +protect you for the remainder of our lives. On your side, at least, +there is no passion or blamable haste--on mine, perhaps, there is. +But I can't help seeing that if you choose from a feeling of pity, +and, as you say, a wish to make amends, to make a bargain with me for +a far-ahead time--an agreement which will set all things right and +make me happy, late though it may be--there is no fault to be found +with you as a woman. Hadn't I the first place beside you? Haven't +you been almost mine once already? Surely you can say to me as much +as this, you will have me back again should circumstances permit? +Now, pray speak! O Bathsheba, promise--it is only a little +promise--that if you marry again, you will marry me!" + +His tone was so excited that she almost feared him at this moment, +even whilst she sympathized. It was a simple physical fear--the weak +of the strong; there was no emotional aversion or inner repugnance. +She said, with some distress in her voice, for she remembered vividly +his outburst on the Yalbury Road, and shrank from a repetition of his +anger:-- + +"I will never marry another man whilst you wish me to be your wife, +whatever comes--but to say more--you have taken me so by surprise--" + +"But let it stand in these simple words--that in six years' time you +will be my wife? Unexpected accidents we'll not mention, because +those, of course, must be given way to. Now, this time I know you +will keep your word." + +"That's why I hesitate to give it." + +"But do give it! Remember the past, and be kind." + +She breathed; and then said mournfully: "Oh what shall I do? I don't +love you, and I much fear that I never shall love you as much as a +woman ought to love a husband. If you, sir, know that, and I can +yet give you happiness by a mere promise to marry at the end of six +years, if my husband should not come back, it is a great honour to +me. And if you value such an act of friendship from a woman who +doesn't esteem herself as she did, and has little love left, why +I--I will--" + +"Promise!" + +"--Consider, if I cannot promise soon." + +"But soon is perhaps never?" + +"Oh no, it is not! I mean soon. Christmas, we'll say." + +"Christmas!" He said nothing further till he added: "Well, I'll say +no more to you about it till that time." + + +Bathsheba was in a very peculiar state of mind, which showed how +entirely the soul is the slave of the body, the ethereal spirit +dependent for its quality upon the tangible flesh and blood. It is +hardly too much to say that she felt coerced by a force stronger than +her own will, not only into the act of promising upon this singularly +remote and vague matter, but into the emotion of fancying that she +ought to promise. When the weeks intervening between the night of +this conversation and Christmas day began perceptibly to diminish, +her anxiety and perplexity increased. + +One day she was led by an accident into an oddly confidential +dialogue with Gabriel about her difficulty. It afforded her a little +relief--of a dull and cheerless kind. They were auditing accounts, +and something occurred in the course of their labours which led Oak +to say, speaking of Boldwood, "He'll never forget you, ma'am, never." + +Then out came her trouble before she was aware; and she told him how +she had again got into the toils; what Boldwood had asked her, and +how he was expecting her assent. "The most mournful reason of all +for my agreeing to it," she said sadly, "and the true reason why I +think to do so for good or for evil, is this--it is a thing I have +not breathed to a living soul as yet--I believe that if I don't give +my word, he'll go out of his mind." + +"Really, do ye?" said Gabriel, gravely. + +"I believe this," she continued, with reckless frankness; "and Heaven +knows I say it in a spirit the very reverse of vain, for I am grieved +and troubled to my soul about it--I believe I hold that man's future +in my hand. His career depends entirely upon my treatment of him. O +Gabriel, I tremble at my responsibility, for it is terrible!" + +"Well, I think this much, ma'am, as I told you years ago," said Oak, +"that his life is a total blank whenever he isn't hoping for 'ee; but +I can't suppose--I hope that nothing so dreadful hangs on to it as +you fancy. His natural manner has always been dark and strange, you +know. But since the case is so sad and odd-like, why don't ye give +the conditional promise? I think I would." + +"But is it right? Some rash acts of my past life have taught me that +a watched woman must have very much circumspection to retain only a +very little credit, and I do want and long to be discreet in this! +And six years--why we may all be in our graves by that time, even if +Mr. Troy does not come back again, which he may not impossibly do! +Such thoughts give a sort of absurdity to the scheme. Now, isn't +it preposterous, Gabriel? However he came to dream of it, I cannot +think. But is it wrong? You know--you are older than I." + +"Eight years older, ma'am." + +"Yes, eight years--and is it wrong?" + +"Perhaps it would be an uncommon agreement for a man and woman to +make: I don't see anything really wrong about it," said Oak, slowly. +"In fact the very thing that makes it doubtful if you ought to marry +en under any condition, that is, your not caring about him--for I +may suppose--" + +"Yes, you may suppose that love is wanting," she said shortly. "Love +is an utterly bygone, sorry, worn-out, miserable thing with me--for +him or any one else." + +"Well, your want of love seems to me the one thing that takes away +harm from such an agreement with him. If wild heat had to do wi' +it, making ye long to over-come the awkwardness about your husband's +vanishing, it mid be wrong; but a cold-hearted agreement to oblige a +man seems different, somehow. The real sin, ma'am in my mind, lies +in thinking of ever wedding wi' a man you don't love honest and +true." + +"That I'm willing to pay the penalty of," said Bathsheba, firmly. +"You know, Gabriel, this is what I cannot get off my conscience--that +I once seriously injured him in sheer idleness. If I had never +played a trick upon him, he would never have wanted to marry me. Oh +if I could only pay some heavy damages in money to him for the harm +I did, and so get the sin off my soul that way!... Well, there's +the debt, which can only be discharged in one way, and I believe +I am bound to do it if it honestly lies in my power, without any +consideration of my own future at all. When a rake gambles away his +expectations, the fact that it is an inconvenient debt doesn't make +him the less liable. I've been a rake, and the single point I ask +you is, considering that my own scruples, and the fact that in the +eye of the law my husband is only missing, will keep any man from +marrying me until seven years have passed--am I free to entertain +such an idea, even though 'tis a sort of penance--for it will be +that? I HATE the act of marriage under such circumstances, and the +class of women I should seem to belong to by doing it!" + +"It seems to me that all depends upon whe'r you think, as everybody +else do, that your husband is dead." + +"Yes--I've long ceased to doubt that. I well know what would have +brought him back long before this time if he had lived." + +"Well, then, in a religious sense you will be as free to THINK o' +marrying again as any real widow of one year's standing. But why +don't ye ask Mr. Thirdly's advice on how to treat Mr. Boldwood?" + +"No. When I want a broad-minded opinion for general enlightenment, +distinct from special advice, I never go to a man who deals in +the subject professionally. So I like the parson's opinion on +law, the lawyer's on doctoring, the doctor's on business, and my +business-man's--that is, yours--on morals." + +"And on love--" + +"My own." + +"I'm afraid there's a hitch in that argument," said Oak, with a grave +smile. + +She did not reply at once, and then saying, "Good evening, Mr. Oak." +went away. + +She had spoken frankly, and neither asked nor expected any reply +from Gabriel more satisfactory than that she had obtained. Yet in +the centremost parts of her complicated heart there existed at this +minute a little pang of disappointment, for a reason she would not +allow herself to recognize. Oak had not once wished her free that he +might marry her himself--had not once said, "I could wait for you as +well as he." That was the insect sting. Not that she would have +listened to any such hypothesis. O no--for wasn't she saying all +the time that such thoughts of the future were improper, and wasn't +Gabriel far too poor a man to speak sentiment to her? Yet he might +have just hinted about that old love of his, and asked, in a playful +off-hand way, if he might speak of it. It would have seemed pretty +and sweet, if no more; and then she would have shown how kind and +inoffensive a woman's "No" can sometimes be. But to give such cool +advice--the very advice she had asked for--it ruffled our heroine all +the afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + + +CONVERGING COURSES + + +I + + +Christmas-eve came, and a party that Boldwood was to give in the +evening was the great subject of talk in Weatherbury. It was not +that the rarity of Christmas parties in the parish made this one a +wonder, but that Boldwood should be the giver. The announcement +had had an abnormal and incongruous sound, as if one should hear of +croquet-playing in a cathedral aisle, or that some much-respected +judge was going upon the stage. That the party was intended to be +a truly jovial one there was no room for doubt. A large bough of +mistletoe had been brought from the woods that day, and suspended +in the hall of the bachelor's home. Holly and ivy had followed in +armfuls. From six that morning till past noon the huge wood fire +in the kitchen roared and sparkled at its highest, the kettle, the +saucepan, and the three-legged pot appearing in the midst of the +flames like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego; moreover, roasting +and basting operations were continually carried on in front of the +genial blaze. + +As it grew later the fire was made up in the large long hall into +which the staircase descended, and all encumbrances were cleared out +for dancing. The log which was to form the back-brand of the evening +fire was the uncleft trunk of a tree, so unwieldy that it could be +neither brought nor rolled to its place; and accordingly two men were +to be observed dragging and heaving it in by chains and levers as the +hour of assembly drew near. + +In spite of all this, the spirit of revelry was wanting in the +atmosphere of the house. Such a thing had never been attempted +before by its owner, and it was now done as by a wrench. Intended +gaieties would insist upon appearing like solemn grandeurs, the +organization of the whole effort was carried out coldly, by +hirelings, and a shadow seemed to move about the rooms, saying that +the proceedings were unnatural to the place and the lone man who +lived therein, and hence not good. + + +II + + +Bathsheba was at this time in her room, dressing for the event. She +had called for candles, and Liddy entered and placed one on each side +of her mistress's glass. + +"Don't go away, Liddy," said Bathsheba, almost timidly. "I am +foolishly agitated--I cannot tell why. I wish I had not been obliged +to go to this dance; but there's no escaping now. I have not spoken +to Mr. Boldwood since the autumn, when I promised to see him at +Christmas on business, but I had no idea there was to be anything of +this kind." + +"But I would go now," said Liddy, who was going with her; for +Boldwood had been indiscriminate in his invitations. + +"Yes, I shall make my appearance, of course," said Bathsheba. "But I +am THE CAUSE of the party, and that upsets me!--Don't tell, Liddy." + +"Oh no, ma'am. You the cause of it, ma'am?" + +"Yes. I am the reason of the party--I. If it had not been for me, +there would never have been one. I can't explain any more--there's +no more to be explained. I wish I had never seen Weatherbury." + +"That's wicked of you--to wish to be worse off than you are." + +"No, Liddy. I have never been free from trouble since I have lived +here, and this party is likely to bring me more. Now, fetch my black +silk dress, and see how it sits upon me." + +"But you will leave off that, surely, ma'am? You have been a +widow-lady fourteen months, and ought to brighten up a little on +such a night as this." + +"Is it necessary? No; I will appear as usual, for if I were to wear +any light dress people would say things about me, and I should seem +to be rejoicing when I am solemn all the time. The party doesn't +suit me a bit; but never mind, stay and help to finish me off." + + +III + + +Boldwood was dressing also at this hour. A tailor from Casterbridge +was with him, assisting him in the operation of trying on a new coat +that had just been brought home. + +Never had Boldwood been so fastidious, unreasonable about the fit, +and generally difficult to please. The tailor walked round and round +him, tugged at the waist, pulled the sleeve, pressed out the collar, +and for the first time in his experience Boldwood was not bored. +Times had been when the farmer had exclaimed against all such +niceties as childish, but now no philosophic or hasty rebuke whatever +was provoked by this man for attaching as much importance to a crease +in the coat as to an earthquake in South America. Boldwood at last +expressed himself nearly satisfied, and paid the bill, the tailor +passing out of the door just as Oak came in to report progress for +the day. + +"Oh, Oak," said Boldwood. "I shall of course see you here to-night. +Make yourself merry. I am determined that neither expense nor +trouble shall be spared." + +"I'll try to be here, sir, though perhaps it may not be very early," +said Gabriel, quietly. "I am glad indeed to see such a change in +'ee from what it used to be." + +"Yes--I must own it--I am bright to-night: cheerful and more than +cheerful--so much so that I am almost sad again with the sense that +all of it is passing away. And sometimes, when I am excessively +hopeful and blithe, a trouble is looming in the distance: so that I +often get to look upon gloom in me with content, and to fear a happy +mood. Still this may be absurd--I feel that it is absurd. Perhaps +my day is dawning at last." + +"I hope it 'ill be a long and a fair one." + +"Thank you--thank you. Yet perhaps my cheerfulness rests on a +slender hope. And yet I trust my hope. It is faith, not hope. I +think this time I reckon with my host.--Oak, my hands are a little +shaky, or something; I can't tie this neckerchief properly. Perhaps +you will tie it for me. The fact is, I have not been well lately, +you know." + +"I am sorry to hear that, sir." + +"Oh, it's nothing. I want it done as well as you can, please. Is +there any late knot in fashion, Oak?" + +"I don't know, sir," said Oak. His tone had sunk to sadness. + +Boldwood approached Gabriel, and as Oak tied the neckerchief the +farmer went on feverishly-- + +"Does a woman keep her promise, Gabriel?" + +"If it is not inconvenient to her she may." + +"--Or rather an implied promise." + +"I won't answer for her implying," said Oak, with faint bitterness. +"That's a word as full o' holes as a sieve with them." + +"Oak, don't talk like that. You have got quite cynical lately--how +is it? We seem to have shifted our positions: I have become the +young and hopeful man, and you the old and unbelieving one. However, +does a woman keep a promise, not to marry, but to enter on an +engagement to marry at some time? Now you know women better than +I--tell me." + +"I am afeard you honour my understanding too much. However, she may +keep such a promise, if it is made with an honest meaning to repair +a wrong." + +"It has not gone far yet, but I think it will soon--yes, I know it +will," he said, in an impulsive whisper. "I have pressed her upon +the subject, and she inclines to be kind to me, and to think of me +as a husband at a long future time, and that's enough for me. How +can I expect more? She has a notion that a woman should not marry +within seven years of her husband's disappearance--that her own self +shouldn't, I mean--because his body was not found. It may be merely +this legal reason which influences her, or it may be a religious +one, but she is reluctant to talk on the point. Yet she has +promised--implied--that she will ratify an engagement to-night." + +"Seven years," murmured Oak. + +"No, no--it's no such thing!" he said, with impatience. "Five years, +nine months, and a few days. Fifteen months nearly have passed since +he vanished, and is there anything so wonderful in an engagement of +little more than five years?" + +"It seems long in a forward view. Don't build too much upon such +promises, sir. Remember, you have once be'n deceived. Her meaning +may be good; but there--she's young yet." + +"Deceived? Never!" said Boldwood, vehemently. "She never promised +me at that first time, and hence she did not break her promise! If +she promises me, she'll marry me. Bathsheba is a woman to her word." + + +IV + + +Troy was sitting in a corner of The White Hart tavern at +Casterbridge, smoking and drinking a steaming mixture from a glass. +A knock was given at the door, and Pennyways entered. + +"Well, have you seen him?" Troy inquired, pointing to a chair. + +"Boldwood?" + +"No--Lawyer Long." + +"He wadn' at home. I went there first, too." + +"That's a nuisance." + +"'Tis rather, I suppose." + +"Yet I don't see that, because a man appears to be drowned and was +not, he should be liable for anything. I shan't ask any lawyer--not +I." + +"But that's not it, exactly. If a man changes his name and so forth, +and takes steps to deceive the world and his own wife, he's a cheat, +and that in the eye of the law is ayless a rogue, and that is ayless +a lammocken vagabond; and that's a punishable situation." + +"Ha-ha! Well done, Pennyways," Troy had laughed, but it was with +some anxiety that he said, "Now, what I want to know is this, do you +think there's really anything going on between her and Boldwood? +Upon my soul, I should never have believed it! How she must detest +me! Have you found out whether she has encouraged him?" + +"I haen't been able to learn. There's a deal of feeling on his side +seemingly, but I don't answer for her. I didn't know a word about +any such thing till yesterday, and all I heard then was that she was +gwine to the party at his house to-night. This is the first time she +has ever gone there, they say. And they say that she've not so much +as spoke to him since they were at Greenhill Fair: but what can folk +believe o't? However, she's not fond of him--quite offish and quite +careless, I know." + +"I'm not so sure of that.... She's a handsome woman, Pennyways, is +she not? Own that you never saw a finer or more splendid creature +in your life. Upon my honour, when I set eyes upon her that day I +wondered what I could have been made of to be able to leave her by +herself so long. And then I was hampered with that bothering show, +which I'm free of at last, thank the stars." He smoked on awhile, +and then added, "How did she look when you passed by yesterday?" + +"Oh, she took no great heed of me, ye may well fancy; but she looked +well enough, far's I know. Just flashed her haughty eyes upon my +poor scram body, and then let them go past me to what was yond, much +as if I'd been no more than a leafless tree. She had just got off +her mare to look at the last wring-down of cider for the year; she +had been riding, and so her colours were up and her breath rather +quick, so that her bosom plimmed and fell--plimmed and fell--every +time plain to my eye. Ay, and there were the fellers round her +wringing down the cheese and bustling about and saying, 'Ware o' the +pommy, ma'am: 'twill spoil yer gown.' 'Never mind me,' says she. +Then Gabe brought her some of the new cider, and she must needs go +drinking it through a strawmote, and not in a nateral way at all. +'Liddy,' says she, 'bring indoors a few gallons, and I'll make some +cider-wine.' Sergeant, I was no more to her than a morsel of scroff +in the fuel-house!" + +"I must go and find her out at once--O yes, I see that--I must go. +Oak is head man still, isn't he?" + +"Yes, 'a b'lieve. And at Little Weatherbury Farm too. He manages +everything." + +"'Twill puzzle him to manage her, or any other man of his compass!" + +"I don't know about that. She can't do without him, and knowing it +well he's pretty independent. And she've a few soft corners to her +mind, though I've never been able to get into one, the devil's in't!" + +"Ah, baily, she's a notch above you, and you must own it: a higher +class of animal--a finer tissue. However, stick to me, and neither +this haughty goddess, dashing piece of womanhood, Juno-wife of mine +(Juno was a goddess, you know), nor anybody else shall hurt you. But +all this wants looking into, I perceive. What with one thing and +another, I see that my work is well cut out for me." + + +V + + +"How do I look to-night, Liddy?" said Bathsheba, giving a final +adjustment to her dress before leaving the glass. + +"I never saw you look so well before. Yes--I'll tell you when you +looked like it--that night, a year and a half ago, when you came in +so wildlike, and scolded us for making remarks about you and Mr. +Troy." + +"Everybody will think that I am setting myself to captivate Mr. +Boldwood, I suppose," she murmured. "At least they'll say so. Can't +my hair be brushed down a little flatter? I dread going--yet I dread +the risk of wounding him by staying away." + +"Anyhow, ma'am, you can't well be dressed plainer than you are, +unless you go in sackcloth at once. 'Tis your excitement is what +makes you look so noticeable to-night." + +"I don't know what's the matter, I feel wretched at one time, and +buoyant at another. I wish I could have continued quite alone as I +have been for the last year or so, with no hopes and no fears, and +no pleasure and no grief." + +"Now just suppose Mr. Boldwood should ask you--only just suppose +it--to run away with him, what would you do, ma'am?" + +"Liddy--none of that," said Bathsheba, gravely. "Mind, I won't hear +joking on any such matter. Do you hear?" + +"I beg pardon, ma'am. But knowing what rum things we women be, I +just said--however, I won't speak of it again." + +"No marrying for me yet for many a year; if ever, 'twill be for +reasons very, very different from those you think, or others will +believe! Now get my cloak, for it is time to go." + + +VI + + +"Oak," said Boldwood, "before you go I want to mention what has been +passing in my mind lately--that little arrangement we made about +your share in the farm I mean. That share is small, too small, +considering how little I attend to business now, and how much time +and thought you give to it. Well, since the world is brightening +for me, I want to show my sense of it by increasing your proportion +in the partnership. I'll make a memorandum of the arrangement which +struck me as likely to be convenient, for I haven't time to talk +about it now; and then we'll discuss it at our leisure. My intention +is ultimately to retire from the management altogether, and until you +can take all the expenditure upon your shoulders, I'll be a sleeping +partner in the stock. Then, if I marry her--and I hope--I feel I +shall, why--" + +"Pray don't speak of it, sir," said Oak, hastily. "We don't know +what may happen. So many upsets may befall 'ee. There's many a +slip, as they say--and I would advise you--I know you'll pardon me +this once--not to be TOO SURE." + +"I know, I know. But the feeling I have about increasing your share +is on account of what I know of you. Oak, I have learnt a little +about your secret: your interest in her is more than that of bailiff +for an employer. But you have behaved like a man, and I, as a sort +of successful rival--successful partly through your goodness of +heart--should like definitely to show my sense of your friendship +under what must have been a great pain to you." + +"O that's not necessary, thank 'ee," said Oak, hurriedly. "I must get +used to such as that; other men have, and so shall I." + +Oak then left him. He was uneasy on Boldwood's account, for he saw +anew that this constant passion of the farmer made him not the man +he once had been. + +As Boldwood continued awhile in his room alone--ready and dressed to +receive his company--the mood of anxiety about his appearance seemed +to pass away, and to be succeeded by a deep solemnity. He looked out +of the window, and regarded the dim outline of the trees upon the +sky, and the twilight deepening to darkness. + +Then he went to a locked closet, and took from a locked drawer +therein a small circular case the size of a pillbox, and was about to +put it into his pocket. But he lingered to open the cover and take +a momentary glance inside. It contained a woman's finger-ring, set +all the way round with small diamonds, and from its appearance had +evidently been recently purchased. Boldwood's eyes dwelt upon its +many sparkles a long time, though that its material aspect concerned +him little was plain from his manner and mien, which were those of +a mind following out the presumed thread of that jewel's future +history. + +The noise of wheels at the front of the house became audible. +Boldwood closed the box, stowed it away carefully in his pocket, and +went out upon the landing. The old man who was his indoor factotum +came at the same moment to the foot of the stairs. + +"They be coming, sir--lots of 'em--a-foot and a-driving!" + +"I was coming down this moment. Those wheels I heard--is it Mrs. +Troy?" + +"No, sir--'tis not she yet." + +A reserved and sombre expression had returned to Boldwood's face +again, but it poorly cloaked his feelings when he pronounced +Bathsheba's name; and his feverish anxiety continued to show its +existence by a galloping motion of his fingers upon the side of +his thigh as he went down the stairs. + + +VII + + +"How does this cover me?" said Troy to Pennyways. "Nobody would +recognize me now, I'm sure." + +He was buttoning on a heavy grey overcoat of Noachian cut, with cape +and high collar, the latter being erect and rigid, like a girdling +wall, and nearly reaching to the verge of a travelling cap which was +pulled down over his ears. + +Pennyways snuffed the candle, and then looked up and deliberately +inspected Troy. + +"You've made up your mind to go then?" he said. + +"Made up my mind? Yes; of course I have." + +"Why not write to her? 'Tis a very queer corner that you have got +into, sergeant. You see all these things will come to light if you +go back, and they won't sound well at all. Faith, if I was you I'd +even bide as you be--a single man of the name of Francis. A good +wife is good, but the best wife is not so good as no wife at all. +Now that's my outspoke mind, and I've been called a long-headed +feller here and there." + +"All nonsense!" said Troy, angrily. "There she is with plenty of +money, and a house and farm, and horses, and comfort, and here am I +living from hand to mouth--a needy adventurer. Besides, it is no use +talking now; it is too late, and I am glad of it; I've been seen and +recognized here this very afternoon. I should have gone back to her +the day after the fair, if it hadn't been for you talking about the +law, and rubbish about getting a separation; and I don't put it off +any longer. What the deuce put it into my head to run away at all, I +can't think! Humbugging sentiment--that's what it was. But what man +on earth was to know that his wife would be in such a hurry to get +rid of his name!" + +"I should have known it. She's bad enough for anything." + +"Pennyways, mind who you are talking to." + +"Well, sergeant, all I say is this, that if I were you I'd go abroad +again where I came from--'tisn't too late to do it now. I wouldn't +stir up the business and get a bad name for the sake of living with +her--for all that about your play-acting is sure to come out, you +know, although you think otherwise. My eyes and limbs, there'll +be a racket if you go back just now--in the middle of Boldwood's +Christmasing!" + +"H'm, yes. I expect I shall not be a very welcome guest if he has +her there," said the sergeant, with a slight laugh. "A sort of +Alonzo the Brave; and when I go in the guests will sit in silence and +fear, and all laughter and pleasure will be hushed, and the lights in +the chamber burn blue, and the worms--Ugh, horrible!--Ring for some +more brandy, Pennyways, I felt an awful shudder just then! Well, +what is there besides? A stick--I must have a walking-stick." + +Pennyways now felt himself to be in something of a difficulty, for +should Bathsheba and Troy become reconciled it would be necessary +to regain her good opinion if he would secure the patronage of her +husband. "I sometimes think she likes you yet, and is a good woman +at bottom," he said, as a saving sentence. "But there's no telling +to a certainty from a body's outside. Well, you'll do as you like +about going, of course, sergeant, and as for me, I'll do as you tell +me." + +"Now, let me see what the time is," said Troy, after emptying his +glass in one draught as he stood. "Half-past six o'clock. I shall +not hurry along the road, and shall be there then before nine." + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + + +CONCURRITUR--HORAE MOMENTO + + +Outside the front of Boldwood's house a group of men stood in the +dark, with their faces towards the door, which occasionally opened +and closed for the passage of some guest or servant, when a golden +rod of light would stripe the ground for the moment and vanish again, +leaving nothing outside but the glowworm shine of the pale lamp amid +the evergreens over the door. + +"He was seen in Casterbridge this afternoon--so the boy said," one of +them remarked in a whisper. "And I for one believe it. His body was +never found, you know." + +"'Tis a strange story," said the next. "You may depend upon't that +she knows nothing about it." + +"Not a word." + +"Perhaps he don't mean that she shall," said another man. + +"If he's alive and here in the neighbourhood, he means mischief," +said the first. "Poor young thing: I do pity her, if 'tis true. +He'll drag her to the dogs." + +"O no; he'll settle down quiet enough," said one disposed to take a +more hopeful view of the case. + +"What a fool she must have been ever to have had anything to do with +the man! She is so self-willed and independent too, that one is more +minded to say it serves her right than pity her." + +"No, no. I don't hold with 'ee there. She was no otherwise than a +girl mind, and how could she tell what the man was made of? If 'tis +really true, 'tis too hard a punishment, and more than she ought to +hae.--Hullo, who's that?" This was to some footsteps that were heard +approaching. + +"William Smallbury," said a dim figure in the shades, coming up and +joining them. "Dark as a hedge, to-night, isn't it? I all but missed +the plank over the river ath'art there in the bottom--never did such +a thing before in my life. Be ye any of Boldwood's workfolk?" He +peered into their faces. + +"Yes--all o' us. We met here a few minutes ago." + +"Oh, I hear now--that's Sam Samway: thought I knowed the voice, too. +Going in?" + +"Presently. But I say, William," Samway whispered, "have ye heard +this strange tale?" + +"What--that about Sergeant Troy being seen, d'ye mean, souls?" said +Smallbury, also lowering his voice. + +"Ay: in Casterbridge." + +"Yes, I have. Laban Tall named a hint of it to me but now--but I +don't think it. Hark, here Laban comes himself, 'a b'lieve." A +footstep drew near. + +"Laban?" + +"Yes, 'tis I," said Tall. + +"Have ye heard any more about that?" + +"No," said Tall, joining the group. "And I'm inclined to think we'd +better keep quiet. If so be 'tis not true, 'twill flurry her, and do +her much harm to repeat it; and if so be 'tis true, 'twill do no good +to forestall her time o' trouble. God send that it mid be a lie, for +though Henery Fray and some of 'em do speak against her, she's never +been anything but fair to me. She's hot and hasty, but she's a brave +girl who'll never tell a lie however much the truth may harm her, and +I've no cause to wish her evil." + +"She never do tell women's little lies, that's true; and 'tis a thing +that can be said of very few. Ay, all the harm she thinks she says +to yer face: there's nothing underhand wi' her." + +They stood silent then, every man busied with his own thoughts, +during which interval sounds of merriment could be heard within. +Then the front door again opened, the rays streamed out, the +well-known form of Boldwood was seen in the rectangular area of +light, the door closed, and Boldwood walked slowly down the path. + +"'Tis master," one of the men whispered, as he neared them. "We'd +better stand quiet--he'll go in again directly. He would think it +unseemly o' us to be loitering here." + +Boldwood came on, and passed by the men without seeing them, they +being under the bushes on the grass. He paused, leant over the gate, +and breathed a long breath. They heard low words come from him. + +"I hope to God she'll come, or this night will be nothing but misery +to me! Oh my darling, my darling, why do you keep me in suspense +like this?" + +He said this to himself, and they all distinctly heard it. Boldwood +remained silent after that, and the noise from indoors was again +just audible, until, a few minutes later, light wheels could be +distinguished coming down the hill. They drew nearer, and ceased at +the gate. Boldwood hastened back to the door, and opened it; and the +light shone upon Bathsheba coming up the path. + +Boldwood compressed his emotion to mere welcome: the men marked her +light laugh and apology as she met him: he took her into the house; +and the door closed again. + +"Gracious heaven, I didn't know it was like that with him!" said one +of the men. "I thought that fancy of his was over long ago." + +"You don't know much of master, if you thought that," said Samway. + +"I wouldn't he should know we heard what 'a said for the world," +remarked a third. + +"I wish we had told of the report at once," the first uneasily +continued. "More harm may come of this than we know of. Poor Mr. +Boldwood, it will be hard upon en. I wish Troy was in--Well, God +forgive me for such a wish! A scoundrel to play a poor wife such +tricks. Nothing has prospered in Weatherbury since he came here. +And now I've no heart to go in. Let's look into Warren's for a few +minutes first, shall us, neighbours?" + +Samway, Tall, and Smallbury agreed to go to Warren's, and went out at +the gate, the remaining ones entering the house. The three soon drew +near the malt-house, approaching it from the adjoining orchard, and +not by way of the street. The pane of glass was illuminated as +usual. Smallbury was a little in advance of the rest when, pausing, +he turned suddenly to his companions and said, "Hist! See there." + +The light from the pane was now perceived to be shining not upon the +ivied wall as usual, but upon some object close to the glass. It was +a human face. + +"Let's come closer," whispered Samway; and they approached on tiptoe. +There was no disbelieving the report any longer. Troy's face was +almost close to the pane, and he was looking in. Not only was he +looking in, but he appeared to have been arrested by a conversation +which was in progress in the malt-house, the voices of the +interlocutors being those of Oak and the maltster. + +"The spree is all in her honour, isn't it--hey?" said the old man. +"Although he made believe 'tis only keeping up o' Christmas?" + +"I cannot say," replied Oak. + +"Oh 'tis true enough, faith. I cannot understand Farmer Boldwood +being such a fool at his time of life as to ho and hanker after this +woman in the way 'a do, and she not care a bit about en." + +The men, after recognizing Troy's features, withdrew across +the orchard as quietly as they had come. The air was big with +Bathsheba's fortunes to-night: every word everywhere concerned her. +When they were quite out of earshot all by one instinct paused. + +"It gave me quite a turn--his face," said Tall, breathing. + +"And so it did me," said Samway. "What's to be done?" + +"I don't see that 'tis any business of ours," Smallbury murmured +dubiously. + +"But it is! 'Tis a thing which is everybody's business," said +Samway. "We know very well that master's on a wrong tack, and that +she's quite in the dark, and we should let 'em know at once. Laban, +you know her best--you'd better go and ask to speak to her." + +"I bain't fit for any such thing," said Laban, nervously. "I should +think William ought to do it if anybody. He's oldest." + +"I shall have nothing to do with it," said Smallbury. "'Tis a +ticklish business altogether. Why, he'll go on to her himself in a +few minutes, ye'll see." + +"We don't know that he will. Come, Laban." + +"Very well, if I must I must, I suppose," Tall reluctantly answered. +"What must I say?" + +"Just ask to see master." + +"Oh no; I shan't speak to Mr. Boldwood. If I tell anybody, 'twill be +mistress." + +"Very well," said Samway. + +Laban then went to the door. When he opened it the hum of bustle +rolled out as a wave upon a still strand--the assemblage being +immediately inside the hall--and was deadened to a murmur as he +closed it again. Each man waited intently, and looked around at +the dark tree tops gently rocking against the sky and occasionally +shivering in a slight wind, as if he took interest in the scene, +which neither did. One of them began walking up and down, and then +came to where he started from and stopped again, with a sense that +walking was a thing not worth doing now. + +"I should think Laban must have seen mistress by this time," said +Smallbury, breaking the silence. "Perhaps she won't come and speak +to him." + +The door opened. Tall appeared, and joined them. + +"Well?" said both. + +"I didn't like to ask for her after all," Laban faltered out. "They +were all in such a stir, trying to put a little spirit into the +party. Somehow the fun seems to hang fire, though everything's there +that a heart can desire, and I couldn't for my soul interfere and +throw damp upon it--if 'twas to save my life, I couldn't!" + +"I suppose we had better all go in together," said Samway, gloomily. +"Perhaps I may have a chance of saying a word to master." + +So the men entered the hall, which was the room selected and arranged +for the gathering because of its size. The younger men and maids +were at last just beginning to dance. Bathsheba had been perplexed +how to act, for she was not much more than a slim young maid herself, +and the weight of stateliness sat heavy upon her. Sometimes she +thought she ought not to have come under any circumstances; then she +considered what cold unkindness that would have been, and finally +resolved upon the middle course of staying for about an hour only, +and gliding off unobserved, having from the first made up her mind +that she could on no account dance, sing, or take any active part in +the proceedings. + +Her allotted hour having been passed in chatting and looking on, +Bathsheba told Liddy not to hurry herself, and went to the small +parlour to prepare for departure, which, like the hall, was decorated +with holly and ivy, and well lighted up. + +Nobody was in the room, but she had hardly been there a moment when +the master of the house entered. + +"Mrs. Troy--you are not going?" he said. "We've hardly begun!" + +"If you'll excuse me, I should like to go now." Her manner was +restive, for she remembered her promise, and imagined what he was +about to say. "But as it is not late," she added, "I can walk home, +and leave my man and Liddy to come when they choose." + +"I've been trying to get an opportunity of speaking to you," said +Boldwood. "You know perhaps what I long to say?" + +Bathsheba silently looked on the floor. + +"You do give it?" he said, eagerly. + +"What?" she whispered. + +"Now, that's evasion! Why, the promise. I don't want to intrude +upon you at all, or to let it become known to anybody. But do give +your word! A mere business compact, you know, between two people who +are beyond the influence of passion." Boldwood knew how false this +picture was as regarded himself; but he had proved that it was the +only tone in which she would allow him to approach her. "A promise +to marry me at the end of five years and three-quarters. You owe it +to me!" + +"I feel that I do," said Bathsheba; "that is, if you demand it. But +I am a changed woman--an unhappy woman--and not--not--" + +"You are still a very beautiful woman," said Boldwood. Honesty and +pure conviction suggested the remark, unaccompanied by any perception +that it might have been adopted by blunt flattery to soothe and win +her. + +However, it had not much effect now, for she said, in a passionless +murmur which was in itself a proof of her words: "I have no feeling +in the matter at all. And I don't at all know what is right to do +in my difficult position, and I have nobody to advise me. But I +give my promise, if I must. I give it as the rendering of a debt, +conditionally, of course, on my being a widow." + +"You'll marry me between five and six years hence?" + +"Don't press me too hard. I'll marry nobody else." + +"But surely you will name the time, or there's nothing in the promise +at all?" + +"Oh, I don't know, pray let me go!" she said, her bosom beginning to +rise. "I am afraid what to do! I want to be just to you, and to be +that seems to be wronging myself, and perhaps it is breaking the +commandments. There is considerable doubt of his death, and then it +is dreadful; let me ask a solicitor, Mr. Boldwood, if I ought or no!" + +"Say the words, dear one, and the subject shall be dismissed; +a blissful loving intimacy of six years, and then marriage--O +Bathsheba, say them!" he begged in a husky voice, unable to sustain +the forms of mere friendship any longer. "Promise yourself to me; I +deserve it, indeed I do, for I have loved you more than anybody in +the world! And if I said hasty words and showed uncalled-for heat +of manner towards you, believe me, dear, I did not mean to distress +you; I was in agony, Bathsheba, and I did not know what I said. You +wouldn't let a dog suffer what I have suffered, could you but know +it! Sometimes I shrink from your knowing what I have felt for you, +and sometimes I am distressed that all of it you never will know. Be +gracious, and give up a little to me, when I would give up my life +for you!" + +The trimmings of her dress, as they quivered against the light, +showed how agitated she was, and at last she burst out crying. "And +you'll not--press me--about anything more--if I say in five or six +years?" she sobbed, when she had power to frame the words. + +"Yes, then I'll leave it to time." + +She waited a moment. "Very well. I'll marry you in six years from +this day, if we both live," she said solemnly. + +"And you'll take this as a token from me." + +Boldwood had come close to her side, and now he clasped one of her +hands in both his own, and lifted it to his breast. + +"What is it? Oh I cannot wear a ring!" she exclaimed, on seeing +what he held; "besides, I wouldn't have a soul know that it's an +engagement! Perhaps it is improper? Besides, we are not engaged in +the usual sense, are we? Don't insist, Mr. Boldwood--don't!" In her +trouble at not being able to get her hand away from him at once, she +stamped passionately on the floor with one foot, and tears crowded to +her eyes again. + +"It means simply a pledge--no sentiment--the seal of a practical +compact," he said more quietly, but still retaining her hand in +his firm grasp. "Come, now!" And Boldwood slipped the ring on her +finger. + +"I cannot wear it," she said, weeping as if her heart would break. +"You frighten me, almost. So wild a scheme! Please let me go home!" + +"Only to-night: wear it just to-night, to please me!" + +Bathsheba sat down in a chair, and buried her face in her +handkerchief, though Boldwood kept her hand yet. At length she +said, in a sort of hopeless whisper-- + +"Very well, then, I will to-night, if you wish it so earnestly. Now +loosen my hand; I will, indeed I will wear it to-night." + +"And it shall be the beginning of a pleasant secret courtship of six +years, with a wedding at the end?" + +"It must be, I suppose, since you will have it so!" she said, fairly +beaten into non-resistance. + +Boldwood pressed her hand, and allowed it to drop in her lap. "I am +happy now," he said. "God bless you!" + +He left the room, and when he thought she might be sufficiently +composed sent one of the maids to her. Bathsheba cloaked the effects +of the late scene as she best could, followed the girl, and in a few +moments came downstairs with her hat and cloak on, ready to go. To +get to the door it was necessary to pass through the hall, and before +doing so she paused on the bottom of the staircase which descended +into one corner, to take a last look at the gathering. + +There was no music or dancing in progress just now. At the lower +end, which had been arranged for the work-folk specially, a group +conversed in whispers, and with clouded looks. Boldwood was standing +by the fireplace, and he, too, though so absorbed in visions arising +from her promise that he scarcely saw anything, seemed at that moment +to have observed their peculiar manner, and their looks askance. + +"What is it you are in doubt about, men?" he said. + +One of them turned and replied uneasily: "It was something Laban +heard of, that's all, sir." + +"News? Anybody married or engaged, born or dead?" inquired the +farmer, gaily. "Tell it to us, Tall. One would think from your +looks and mysterious ways that it was something very dreadful +indeed." + +"Oh no, sir, nobody is dead," said Tall. + +"I wish somebody was," said Samway, in a whisper. + +"What do you say, Samway?" asked Boldwood, somewhat sharply. "If you +have anything to say, speak out; if not, get up another dance." + +"Mrs. Troy has come downstairs," said Samway to Tall. "If you want +to tell her, you had better do it now." + +"Do you know what they mean?" the farmer asked Bathsheba, across the +room. + +"I don't in the least," said Bathsheba. + +There was a smart rapping at the door. One of the men opened it +instantly, and went outside. + +"Mrs. Troy is wanted," he said, on returning. + +"Quite ready," said Bathsheba. "Though I didn't tell them to send." + +"It is a stranger, ma'am," said the man by the door. + +"A stranger?" she said. + +"Ask him to come in," said Boldwood. + +The message was given, and Troy, wrapped up to his eyes as we have +seen him, stood in the doorway. + +There was an unearthly silence, all looking towards the newcomer. +Those who had just learnt that he was in the neighbourhood recognized +him instantly; those who did not were perplexed. Nobody noted +Bathsheba. She was leaning on the stairs. Her brow had heavily +contracted; her whole face was pallid, her lips apart, her eyes +rigidly staring at their visitor. + +Boldwood was among those who did not notice that he was Troy. "Come +in, come in!" he repeated, cheerfully, "and drain a Christmas beaker +with us, stranger!" + +Troy next advanced into the middle of the room, took off his cap, +turned down his coat-collar, and looked Boldwood in the face. Even +then Boldwood did not recognize that the impersonator of Heaven's +persistent irony towards him, who had once before broken in upon his +bliss, scourged him, and snatched his delight away, had come to do +these things a second time. Troy began to laugh a mechanical laugh: +Boldwood recognized him now. + +Troy turned to Bathsheba. The poor girl's wretchedness at this time +was beyond all fancy or narration. She had sunk down on the lowest +stair; and there she sat, her mouth blue and dry, and her dark eyes +fixed vacantly upon him, as if she wondered whether it were not all +a terrible illusion. + +Then Troy spoke. "Bathsheba, I come here for you!" + +She made no reply. + +"Come home with me: come!" + +Bathsheba moved her feet a little, but did not rise. Troy went +across to her. + +"Come, madam, do you hear what I say?" he said, peremptorily. + +A strange voice came from the fireplace--a voice sounding far off +and confined, as if from a dungeon. Hardly a soul in the assembly +recognized the thin tones to be those of Boldwood. Sudden despair +had transformed him. + +"Bathsheba, go with your husband!" + +Nevertheless, she did not move. The truth was that Bathsheba was +beyond the pale of activity--and yet not in a swoon. She was in a +state of mental _gutta serena_; her mind was for the minute totally +deprived of light at the same time no obscuration was apparent from +without. + +Troy stretched out his hand to pull her her towards him, when she +quickly shrank back. This visible dread of him seemed to irritate +Troy, and he seized her arm and pulled it sharply. Whether his grasp +pinched her, or whether his mere touch was the cause, was never +known, but at the moment of his seizure she writhed, and gave a +quick, low scream. + +The scream had been heard but a few seconds when it was followed by +sudden deafening report that echoed through the room and stupefied +them all. The oak partition shook with the concussion, and the place +was filled with grey smoke. + +In bewilderment they turned their eyes to Boldwood. At his back, +as stood before the fireplace, was a gun-rack, as is usual in +farmhouses, constructed to hold two guns. When Bathsheba had cried +out in her husband's grasp, Boldwood's face of gnashing despair had +changed. The veins had swollen, and a frenzied look had gleamed in +his eye. He had turned quickly, taken one of the guns, cocked it, +and at once discharged it at Troy. + +Troy fell. The distance apart of the two men was so small that +the charge of shot did not spread in the least, but passed like a +bullet into his body. He uttered a long guttural sigh--there was +a contraction--an extension--then his muscles relaxed, and he lay +still. + +Boldwood was seen through the smoke to be now again engaged with the +gun. It was double-barrelled, and he had, meanwhile, in some way +fastened his hand-kerchief to the trigger, and with his foot on the +other end was in the act of turning the second barrel upon himself. +Samway his man was the first to see this, and in the midst of the +general horror darted up to him. Boldwood had already twitched +the handkerchief, and the gun exploded a second time, sending its +contents, by a timely blow from Samway, into the beam which crossed +the ceiling. + +"Well, it makes no difference!" Boldwood gasped. "There is another +way for me to die." + +Then he broke from Samway, crossed the room to Bathsheba, and kissed +her hand. He put on his hat, opened the door, and went into the +darkness, nobody thinking of preventing him. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV + + +AFTER THE SHOCK + + +Boldwood passed into the high road and turned in the direction of +Casterbridge. Here he walked at an even, steady pace over Yalbury +Hill, along the dead level beyond, mounted Mellstock Hill, and +between eleven and twelve o'clock crossed the Moor into the town. +The streets were nearly deserted now, and the waving lamp-flames only +lighted up rows of grey shop-shutters, and strips of white paving +upon which his step echoed as his passed along. He turned to the +right, and halted before an archway of heavy stonework, which was +closed by an iron studded pair of doors. This was the entrance +to the gaol, and over it a lamp was fixed, the light enabling the +wretched traveller to find a bell-pull. + +The small wicket at last opened, and a porter appeared. Boldwood +stepped forward, and said something in a low tone, when, after a +delay, another man came. Boldwood entered, and the door was closed +behind him, and he walked the world no more. + +Long before this time Weatherbury had been thoroughly aroused, and +the wild deed which had terminated Boldwood's merrymaking became +known to all. Of those out of the house Oak was one of the first to +hear of the catastrophe, and when he entered the room, which was +about five minutes after Boldwood's exit, the scene was terrible. +All the female guests were huddled aghast against the walls like +sheep in a storm, and the men were bewildered as to what to do. As +for Bathsheba, she had changed. She was sitting on the floor beside +the body of Troy, his head pillowed in her lap, where she had herself +lifted it. With one hand she held her handkerchief to his breast and +covered the wound, though scarcely a single drop of blood had flowed, +and with the other she tightly clasped one of his. The household +convulsion had made her herself again. The temporary coma had +ceased, and activity had come with the necessity for it. Deeds of +endurance, which seem ordinary in philosophy, are rare in conduct, +and Bathsheba was astonishing all around her now, for her philosophy +was her conduct, and she seldom thought practicable what she did +not practise. She was of the stuff of which great men's mothers +are made. She was indispensable to high generation, hated at tea +parties, feared in shops, and loved at crises. Troy recumbent in +his wife's lap formed now the sole spectacle in the middle of the +spacious room. + +"Gabriel," she said, automatically, when he entered, turning up a +face of which only the well-known lines remained to tell him it +was hers, all else in the picture having faded quite. "Ride to +Casterbridge instantly for a surgeon. It is, I believe, useless, +but go. Mr. Boldwood has shot my husband." + +Her statement of the fact in such quiet and simple words came with +more force than a tragic declamation, and had somewhat the effect of +setting the distorted images in each mind present into proper focus. +Oak, almost before he had comprehended anything beyond the briefest +abstract of the event, hurried out of the room, saddled a horse and +rode away. Not till he had ridden more than a mile did it occur to +him that he would have done better by sending some other man on this +errand, remaining himself in the house. What had become of Boldwood? +He should have been looked after. Was he mad--had there been a +quarrel? Then how had Troy got there? Where had he come from? How +did this remarkable reappearance effect itself when he was supposed +by many to be at the bottom of the sea? Oak had in some slight +measure been prepared for the presence of Troy by hearing a rumour +of his return just before entering Boldwood's house; but before he +had weighed that information, this fatal event had been superimposed. +However, it was too late now to think of sending another messenger, +and he rode on, in the excitement of these self-inquiries +not discerning, when about three miles from Casterbridge, a +square-figured pedestrian passing along under the dark hedge in the +same direction as his own. + +The miles necessary to be traversed, and other hindrances incidental +to the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night, delayed +the arrival of Mr. Aldritch, the surgeon; and more than three hours +passed between the time at which the shot was fired and that of his +entering the house. Oak was additionally detained in Casterbridge +through having to give notice to the authorities of what had +happened; and he then found that Boldwood had also entered the town, +and delivered himself up. + +In the meantime the surgeon, having hastened into the hall at +Boldwood's, found it in darkness and quite deserted. He went on to +the back of the house, where he discovered in the kitchen an old man, +of whom he made inquiries. + +"She's had him took away to her own house, sir," said his informant. + +"Who has?" said the doctor. + +"Mrs. Troy. 'A was quite dead, sir." + +This was astonishing information. "She had no right to do that," +said the doctor. "There will have to be an inquest, and she should +have waited to know what to do." + +"Yes, sir; it was hinted to her that she had better wait till the law +was known. But she said law was nothing to her, and she wouldn't let +her dear husband's corpse bide neglected for folks to stare at for +all the crowners in England." + +Mr. Aldritch drove at once back again up the hill to Bathsheba's. +The first person he met was poor Liddy, who seemed literally to have +dwindled smaller in these few latter hours. "What has been done?" he +said. + +"I don't know, sir," said Liddy, with suspended breath. "My mistress +has done it all." + +"Where is she?" + +"Upstairs with him, sir. When he was brought home and taken +upstairs, she said she wanted no further help from the men. And then +she called me, and made me fill the bath, and after that told me I +had better go and lie down because I looked so ill. Then she locked +herself into the room alone with him, and would not let a nurse come +in, or anybody at all. But I thought I'd wait in the next room in +case she should want me. I heard her moving about inside for more +than an hour, but she only came out once, and that was for more +candles, because hers had burnt down into the socket. She said we +were to let her know when you or Mr. Thirdly came, sir." + +Oak entered with the parson at this moment, and they all went +upstairs together, preceded by Liddy Smallbury. Everything was +silent as the grave when they paused on the landing. Liddy knocked, +and Bathsheba's dress was heard rustling across the room: the key +turned in the lock, and she opened the door. Her looks were calm and +nearly rigid, like a slightly animated bust of Melpomene. + +"Oh, Mr. Aldritch, you have come at last," she murmured from her lips +merely, and threw back the door. "Ah, and Mr. Thirdly. Well, all is +done, and anybody in the world may see him now." She then passed by +him, crossed the landing, and entered another room. + +Looking into the chamber of death she had vacated they saw by the +light of the candles which were on the drawers a tall straight +shape lying at the further end of the bedroom, wrapped in white. +Everything around was quite orderly. The doctor went in, and after a +few minutes returned to the landing again, where Oak and the parson +still waited. + +"It is all done, indeed, as she says," remarked Mr. Aldritch, in a +subdued voice. "The body has been undressed and properly laid out in +grave clothes. Gracious Heaven--this mere girl! She must have the +nerve of a stoic!" + +"The heart of a wife merely," floated in a whisper about the ears +of the three, and turning they saw Bathsheba in the midst of them. +Then, as if at that instant to prove that her fortitude had been +more of will than of spontaneity, she silently sank down between +them and was a shapeless heap of drapery on the floor. The simple +consciousness that superhuman strain was no longer required had at +once put a period to her power to continue it. + +They took her away into a further room, and the medical attendance +which had been useless in Troy's case was invaluable in Bathsheba's, +who fell into a series of fainting-fits that had a serious aspect +for a time. The sufferer was got to bed, and Oak, finding from the +bulletins that nothing really dreadful was to be apprehended on her +score, left the house. Liddy kept watch in Bathsheba's chamber, +where she heard her mistress, moaning in whispers through the dull +slow hours of that wretched night: "Oh it is my fault--how can I +live! O Heaven, how can I live!" + + + + +CHAPTER LV + + +THE MARCH FOLLOWING--"BATHSHEBA BOLDWOOD" + + +We pass rapidly on into the month of March, to a breezy day without +sunshine, frost, or dew. On Yalbury Hill, about midway between +Weatherbury and Casterbridge, where the turnpike road passes over +the crest, a numerous concourse of people had gathered, the eyes of +the greater number being frequently stretched afar in a northerly +direction. The groups consisted of a throng of idlers, a party of +javelin-men, and two trumpeters, and in the midst were carriages, one +of which contained the high sheriff. With the idlers, many of whom +had mounted to the top of a cutting formed for the road, were several +Weatherbury men and boys--among others Poorgrass, Coggan, and Cain +Ball. + +At the end of half-an-hour a faint dust was seen in the expected +quarter, and shortly after a travelling-carriage, bringing one of the +two judges on the Western Circuit, came up the hill and halted on the +top. The judge changed carriages whilst a flourish was blown by the +big-cheeked trumpeters, and a procession being formed of the vehicles +and javelin-men, they all proceeded towards the town, excepting the +Weatherbury men, who as soon as they had seen the judge move off +returned home again to their work. + +"Joseph, I seed you squeezing close to the carriage," said Coggan, as +they walked. "Did ye notice my lord judge's face?" + +"I did," said Poorgrass. "I looked hard at en, as if I would read +his very soul; and there was mercy in his eyes--or to speak with the +exact truth required of us at this solemn time, in the eye that was +towards me." + +"Well, I hope for the best," said Coggan, "though bad that must be. +However, I shan't go to the trial, and I'd advise the rest of ye +that bain't wanted to bide away. 'Twill disturb his mind more than +anything to see us there staring at him as if he were a show." + +"The very thing I said this morning," observed Joseph, "'Justice is +come to weigh him in the balances,' I said in my reflectious way, +'and if he's found wanting, so be it unto him,' and a bystander said +'Hear, hear! A man who can talk like that ought to be heard.' But I +don't like dwelling upon it, for my few words are my few words, and +not much; though the speech of some men is rumoured abroad as though +by nature formed for such." + +"So 'tis, Joseph. And now, neighbours, as I said, every man bide at +home." + +The resolution was adhered to; and all waited anxiously for the news +next day. Their suspense was diverted, however, by a discovery which +was made in the afternoon, throwing more light on Boldwood's conduct +and condition than any details which had preceded it. + +That he had been from the time of Greenhill Fair until the fatal +Christmas Eve in excited and unusual moods was known to those who had +been intimate with him; but nobody imagined that there had shown in +him unequivocal symptoms of the mental derangement which Bathsheba +and Oak, alone of all others and at different times, had momentarily +suspected. In a locked closet was now discovered an extraordinary +collection of articles. There were several sets of ladies' dresses +in the piece, of sundry expensive materials; silks and satins, +poplins and velvets, all of colours which from Bathsheba's style of +dress might have been judged to be her favourites. There were two +muffs, sable and ermine. Above all there was a case of jewellery, +containing four heavy gold bracelets and several lockets and rings, +all of fine quality and manufacture. These things had been bought in +Bath and other towns from time to time, and brought home by stealth. +They were all carefully packed in paper, and each package was +labelled "Bathsheba Boldwood," a date being subjoined six years in +advance in every instance. + +These somewhat pathetic evidences of a mind crazed with care and love +were the subject of discourse in Warren's malt-house when Oak entered +from Casterbridge with tidings of sentence. He came in the afternoon, +and his face, as the kiln glow shone upon it, told the tale +sufficiently well. Boldwood, as every one supposed he would do, had +pleaded guilty, and had been sentenced to death. + +The conviction that Boldwood had not been morally responsible for his +later acts now became general. Facts elicited previous to the trial +had pointed strongly in the same direction, but they had not been of +sufficient weight to lead to an order for an examination into the +state of Boldwood's mind. It was astonishing, now that a presumption +of insanity was raised, how many collateral circumstances were +remembered to which a condition of mental disease seemed to afford +the only explanation--among others, the unprecedented neglect of his +corn stacks in the previous summer. + +A petition was addressed to the Home Secretary, advancing +the circumstances which appeared to justify a request for a +reconsideration of the sentence. It was not "numerously signed" +by the inhabitants of Casterbridge, as is usual in such cases, for +Boldwood had never made many friends over the counter. The shops +thought it very natural that a man who, by importing direct from +the producer, had daringly set aside the first great principle of +provincial existence, namely that God made country villages to supply +customers to county towns, should have confused ideas about the +Decalogue. The prompters were a few merciful men who had perhaps too +feelingly considered the facts latterly unearthed, and the result was +that evidence was taken which it was hoped might remove the crime in +a moral point of view, out of the category of wilful murder, and lead +it to be regarded as a sheer outcome of madness. + +The upshot of the petition was waited for in Weatherbury with +solicitous interest. The execution had been fixed for eight o'clock +on a Saturday morning about a fortnight after the sentence was +passed, and up to Friday afternoon no answer had been received. At +that time Gabriel came from Casterbridge Gaol, whither he had been +to wish Boldwood good-bye, and turned down a by-street to avoid the +town. When past the last house he heard a hammering, and lifting +his bowed head he looked back for a moment. Over the chimneys he +could see the upper part of the gaol entrance, rich and glowing +in the afternoon sun, and some moving figures were there. They +were carpenters lifting a post into a vertical position within the +parapet. He withdrew his eyes quickly, and hastened on. + +It was dark when he reached home, and half the village was out to +meet him. + +"No tidings," Gabriel said, wearily. "And I'm afraid there's no +hope. I've been with him more than two hours." + +"Do ye think he REALLY was out of his mind when he did it?" said +Smallbury. + +"I can't honestly say that I do," Oak replied. "However, that we can +talk of another time. Has there been any change in mistress this +afternoon?" + +"None at all." + +"Is she downstairs?" + +"No. And getting on so nicely as she was too. She's but very little +better now again than she was at Christmas. She keeps on asking +if you be come, and if there's news, till one's wearied out wi' +answering her. Shall I go and say you've come?" + +"No," said Oak. "There's a chance yet; but I couldn't stay in town +any longer--after seeing him too. So Laban--Laban is here, isn't +he?" + +"Yes," said Tall. + +"What I've arranged is, that you shall ride to town the last thing +to-night; leave here about nine, and wait a while there, getting home +about twelve. If nothing has been received by eleven to-night, they +say there's no chance at all." + +"I do so hope his life will be spared," said Liddy. "If it is not, +she'll go out of her mind too. Poor thing; her sufferings have been +dreadful; she deserves anybody's pity." + +"Is she altered much?" said Coggan. + +"If you haven't seen poor mistress since Christmas, you wouldn't know +her," said Liddy. "Her eyes are so miserable that she's not the same +woman. Only two years ago she was a romping girl, and now she's +this!" + +Laban departed as directed, and at eleven o'clock that night several +of the villagers strolled along the road to Casterbridge and awaited +his arrival--among them Oak, and nearly all the rest of Bathsheba's +men. Gabriel's anxiety was great that Boldwood might be saved, even +though in his conscience he felt that he ought to die; for there had +been qualities in the farmer which Oak loved. At last, when they all +were weary the tramp of a horse was heard in the distance-- + + + First dead, as if on turf it trode, + Then, clattering on the village road + In other pace than forth he yode. + + +"We shall soon know now, one way or other." said Coggan, and they all +stepped down from the bank on which they had been standing into the +road, and the rider pranced into the midst of them. + +"Is that you, Laban?" said Gabriel. + +"Yes--'tis come. He's not to die. 'Tis confinement during Her +Majesty's pleasure." + +"Hurrah!" said Coggan, with a swelling heart. "God's above the devil +yet!" + + + + +CHAPTER LVI + + +BEAUTY IN LONELINESS--AFTER ALL + + +Bathsheba revived with the spring. The utter prostration that +had followed the low fever from which she had suffered diminished +perceptibly when all uncertainty upon every subject had come to +an end. + +But she remained alone now for the greater part of her time, and +stayed in the house, or at furthest went into the garden. She +shunned every one, even Liddy, and could be brought to make no +confidences, and to ask for no sympathy. + +As the summer drew on she passed more of her time in the open air, +and began to examine into farming matters from sheer necessity, +though she never rode out or personally superintended as at former +times. One Friday evening in August she walked a little way along +the road and entered the village for the first time since the sombre +event of the preceding Christmas. None of the old colour had as yet +come to her cheek, and its absolute paleness was heightened by the +jet black of her gown, till it appeared preternatural. When she +reached a little shop at the other end of the place, which stood +nearly opposite to the churchyard, Bathsheba heard singing inside the +church, and she knew that the singers were practising. She crossed +the road, opened the gate, and entered the graveyard, the high sills +of the church windows effectually screening her from the eyes of +those gathered within. Her stealthy walk was to the nook wherein +Troy had worked at planting flowers upon Fanny Robin's grave, and +she came to the marble tombstone. + +A motion of satisfaction enlivened her face as she read the complete +inscription. First came the words of Troy himself:-- + + + ERECTED BY FRANCIS TROY + IN BELOVED MEMORY OF + FANNY ROBIN, + WHO DIED OCTOBER 9, 18--, + AGED 20 YEARS + + +Underneath this was now inscribed in new letters:-- + + + IN THE SAME GRAVE LIE + THE REMAINS OF THE AFORESAID + FRANCIS TROY, + WHO DIED DECEMBER 24TH, 18--, + AGED 26 YEARS + + +Whilst she stood and read and meditated the tones of the organ +began again in the church, and she went with the same light step +round to the porch and listened. The door was closed, and the +choir was learning a new hymn. Bathsheba was stirred by emotions +which latterly she had assumed to be altogether dead within her. +The little attenuated voices of the children brought to her ear +in distinct utterance the words they sang without thought or +comprehension-- + + + Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, + Lead Thou me on. + + +Bathsheba's feeling was always to some extent dependent upon her +whim, as is the case with many other women. Something big came into +her throat and an uprising to her eyes--and she thought that she +would allow the imminent tears to flow if they wished. They did +flow and plenteously, and one fell upon the stone bench beside her. +Once that she had begun to cry for she hardly knew what, she could +not leave off for crowding thoughts she knew too well. She would +have given anything in the world to be, as those children were, +unconcerned at the meaning of their words, because too innocent to +feel the necessity for any such expression. All the impassioned +scenes of her brief experience seemed to revive with added emotion at +that moment, and those scenes which had been without emotion during +enactment had emotion then. Yet grief came to her rather as a luxury +than as the scourge of former times. + +Owing to Bathsheba's face being buried in her hands she did not +notice a form which came quietly into the porch, and on seeing +her, first moved as if to retreat, then paused and regarded her. +Bathsheba did not raise her head for some time, and when she looked +round her face was wet, and her eyes drowned and dim. "Mr. Oak," +exclaimed she, disconcerted, "how long have you been here?" + +"A few minutes, ma'am," said Oak, respectfully. + +"Are you going in?" said Bathsheba; and there came from within the +church as from a prompter-- + + + I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, + Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. + + +"I was," said Gabriel. "I am one of the bass singers, you know. I +have sung bass for several months." + +"Indeed: I wasn't aware of that. I'll leave you, then." + + + Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile, + + +sang the children. + +"Don't let me drive you away, mistress. I think I won't go in +to-night." + +"Oh no--you don't drive me away." + +Then they stood in a state of some embarrassment, Bathsheba trying to +wipe her dreadfully drenched and inflamed face without his noticing +her. At length Oak said, "I've not seen you--I mean spoken to +you--since ever so long, have I?" But he feared to bring distressing +memories back, and interrupted himself with: "Were you going into +church?" + +"No," she said. "I came to see the tombstone privately--to see if +they had cut the inscription as I wished. Mr. Oak, you needn't mind +speaking to me, if you wish to, on the matter which is in both our +minds at this moment." + +"And have they done it as you wished?" said Oak. + +"Yes. Come and see it, if you have not already." + +So together they went and read the tomb. "Eight months ago!" Gabriel +murmured when he saw the date. "It seems like yesterday to me." + +"And to me as if it were years ago--long years, and I had been dead +between. And now I am going home, Mr. Oak." + +Oak walked after her. "I wanted to name a small matter to you as +soon as I could," he said, with hesitation. "Merely about business, +and I think I may just mention it now, if you'll allow me." + +"Oh yes, certainly." + +"It is that I may soon have to give up the management of your farm, +Mrs. Troy. The fact is, I am thinking of leaving England--not yet, +you know--next spring." + +"Leaving England!" she said, in surprise and genuine disappointment. +"Why, Gabriel, what are you going to do that for?" + +"Well, I've thought it best," Oak stammered out. "California is the +spot I've had in my mind to try." + +"But it is understood everywhere that you are going to take poor Mr. +Boldwood's farm on your own account." + +"I've had the refusal o' it 'tis true; but nothing is settled yet, +and I have reasons for giving up. I shall finish out my year there +as manager for the trustees, but no more." + +"And what shall I do without you? Oh, Gabriel, I don't think you +ought to go away. You've been with me so long--through bright times +and dark times--such old friends as we are--that it seems unkind +almost. I had fancied that if you leased the other farm as master, +you might still give a helping look across at mine. And now going +away!" + +"I would have willingly." + +"Yet now that I am more helpless than ever you go away!" + +"Yes, that's the ill fortune o' it," said Gabriel, in a distressed +tone. "And it is because of that very helplessness that I feel bound +to go. Good afternoon, ma'am" he concluded, in evident anxiety to +get away, and at once went out of the churchyard by a path she could +follow on no pretence whatever. + +Bathsheba went home, her mind occupied with a new trouble, which +being rather harassing than deadly was calculated to do good by +diverting her from the chronic gloom of her life. She was set +thinking a great deal about Oak and of his wish to shun her; +and there occurred to Bathsheba several incidents of her latter +intercourse with him, which, trivial when singly viewed, amounted +together to a perceptible disinclination for her society. It broke +upon her at length as a great pain that her last old disciple was +about to forsake her and flee. He who had believed in her and argued +on her side when all the rest of the world was against her, had at +last like the others become weary and neglectful of the old cause, +and was leaving her to fight her battles alone. + +Three weeks went on, and more evidence of his want of interest in +her was forthcoming. She noticed that instead of entering the small +parlour or office where the farm accounts were kept, and waiting, or +leaving a memorandum as he had hitherto done during her seclusion, +Oak never came at all when she was likely to be there, only entering +at unseasonable hours when her presence in that part of the house +was least to be expected. Whenever he wanted directions he sent a +message, or note with neither heading nor signature, to which she was +obliged to reply in the same offhand style. Poor Bathsheba began to +suffer now from the most torturing sting of all--a sensation that she +was despised. + +The autumn wore away gloomily enough amid these melancholy +conjectures, and Christmas-day came, completing a year of her legal +widowhood, and two years and a quarter of her life alone. On +examining her heart it appeared beyond measure strange that the +subject of which the season might have been supposed suggestive--the +event in the hall at Boldwood's--was not agitating her at all; but +instead, an agonizing conviction that everybody abjured her--for what +she could not tell--and that Oak was the ringleader of the recusants. +Coming out of church that day she looked round in hope that Oak, +whose bass voice she had heard rolling out from the gallery overhead +in a most unconcerned manner, might chance to linger in her path in +the old way. There he was, as usual, coming down the path behind +her. But on seeing Bathsheba turn, he looked aside, and as soon +as he got beyond the gate, and there was the barest excuse for a +divergence, he made one, and vanished. + +The next morning brought the culminating stroke; she had been +expecting it long. It was a formal notice by letter from him that he +should not renew his engagement with her for the following Lady-day. + +Bathsheba actually sat and cried over this letter most bitterly. She +was aggrieved and wounded that the possession of hopeless love from +Gabriel, which she had grown to regard as her inalienable right for +life, should have been withdrawn just at his own pleasure in this +way. She was bewildered too by the prospect of having to rely on her +own resources again: it seemed to herself that she never could again +acquire energy sufficient to go to market, barter, and sell. +Since Troy's death Oak had attended all sales and fairs for her, +transacting her business at the same time with his own. What should +she do now? Her life was becoming a desolation. + +So desolate was Bathsheba this evening, that in an absolute hunger +for pity and sympathy, and miserable in that she appeared to have +outlived the only true friendship she had ever owned, she put on her +bonnet and cloak and went down to Oak's house just after sunset, +guided on her way by the pale primrose rays of a crescent moon a few +days old. + +A lively firelight shone from the window, but nobody was visible in +the room. She tapped nervously, and then thought it doubtful if +it were right for a single woman to call upon a bachelor who lived +alone, although he was her manager, and she might be supposed to call +on business without any real impropriety. Gabriel opened the door, +and the moon shone upon his forehead. + +"Mr. Oak," said Bathsheba, faintly. + +"Yes; I am Mr. Oak," said Gabriel. "Who have I the honour--O how +stupid of me, not to know you, mistress!" + +"I shall not be your mistress much longer, shall I Gabriel?" she +said, in pathetic tones. + +"Well, no. I suppose--But come in, ma'am. Oh--and I'll get a +light," Oak replied, with some awkwardness. + +"No; not on my account." + +"It is so seldom that I get a lady visitor that I'm afraid I haven't +proper accommodation. Will you sit down, please? Here's a chair, and +there's one, too. I am sorry that my chairs all have wood seats, and +are rather hard, but I--was thinking of getting some new ones." Oak +placed two or three for her. + +"They are quite easy enough for me." + +So down she sat, and down sat he, the fire dancing in their faces, +and upon the old furniture, + + + all a-sheenen + Wi' long years o' handlen, [3] + + [Footnote 3: W. Barnes] + +that formed Oak's array of household possessions, which sent back a +dancing reflection in reply. It was very odd to these two persons, +who knew each other passing well, that the mere circumstance of their +meeting in a new place and in a new way should make them so awkward +and constrained. In the fields, or at her house, there had never +been any embarrassment; but now that Oak had become the entertainer +their lives seemed to be moved back again to the days when they were +strangers. + +"You'll think it strange that I have come, but--" + +"Oh no; not at all." + +"But I thought--Gabriel, I have been uneasy in the belief that I +have offended you, and that you are going away on that account. It +grieved me very much and I couldn't help coming." + +"Offended me! As if you could do that, Bathsheba!" + +"Haven't I?" she asked, gladly. "But, what are you going away for +else?" + +"I am not going to emigrate, you know; I wasn't aware that you would +wish me not to when I told 'ee or I shouldn't ha' thought of doing +it," he said, simply. "I have arranged for Little Weatherbury Farm +and shall have it in my own hands at Lady-day. You know I've had a +share in it for some time. Still, that wouldn't prevent my attending +to your business as before, hadn't it been that things have been said +about us." + +"What?" said Bathsheba, in surprise. "Things said about you and me! +What are they?" + +"I cannot tell you." + +"It would be wiser if you were to, I think. You have played the part +of mentor to me many times, and I don't see why you should fear to do +it now." + +"It is nothing that you have done, this time. The top and tail +o't is this--that I am sniffing about here, and waiting for poor +Boldwood's farm, with a thought of getting you some day." + +"Getting me! What does that mean?" + +"Marrying of 'ee, in plain British. You asked me to tell, so you +mustn't blame me." + +Bathsheba did not look quite so alarmed as if a cannon had been +discharged by her ear, which was what Oak had expected. "Marrying +me! I didn't know it was that you meant," she said, quietly. "Such +a thing as that is too absurd--too soon--to think of, by far!" + +"Yes; of course, it is too absurd. I don't desire any such thing; +I should think that was plain enough by this time. Surely, surely +you be the last person in the world I think of marrying. It is too +absurd, as you say." + +"'Too--s-s-soon' were the words I used." + +"I must beg your pardon for correcting you, but you said, 'too +absurd,' and so do I." + +"I beg your pardon too!" she returned, with tears in her eyes. "'Too +soon' was what I said. But it doesn't matter a bit--not at all--but +I only meant, 'too soon.' Indeed, I didn't, Mr. Oak, and you must +believe me!" + +Gabriel looked her long in the face, but the firelight being faint +there was not much to be seen. "Bathsheba," he said, tenderly and in +surprise, and coming closer: "if I only knew one thing--whether you +would allow me to love you and win you, and marry you after all--if +I only knew that!" + +"But you never will know," she murmured. + +"Why?" + +"Because you never ask." + +"Oh--Oh!" said Gabriel, with a low laugh of joyousness. "My own +dear--" + +"You ought not to have sent me that harsh letter this morning," she +interrupted. "It shows you didn't care a bit about me, and were +ready to desert me like all the rest of them! It was very cruel of +you, considering I was the first sweetheart that you ever had, and +you were the first I ever had; and I shall not forget it!" + +"Now, Bathsheba, was ever anybody so provoking," he said, laughing. +"You know it was purely that I, as an unmarried man, carrying on a +business for you as a very taking young woman, had a proper hard part +to play--more particular that people knew I had a sort of feeling for +'ee; and I fancied, from the way we were mentioned together, that it +might injure your good name. Nobody knows the heat and fret I have +been caused by it." + +"And was that all?" + +"All." + +"Oh, how glad I am I came!" she exclaimed, thankfully, as she rose +from her seat. "I have thought so much more of you since I fancied +you did not want even to see me again. But I must be going now, or +I shall be missed. Why Gabriel," she said, with a slight laugh, as +they went to the door, "it seems exactly as if I had come courting +you--how dreadful!" + +"And quite right too," said Oak. "I've danced at your skittish +heels, my beautiful Bathsheba, for many a long mile, and many a long +day; and it is hard to begrudge me this one visit." + +He accompanied her up the hill, explaining to her the details of +his forthcoming tenure of the other farm. They spoke very little +of their mutual feeling; pretty phrases and warm expressions being +probably unnecessary between such tried friends. Theirs was that +substantial affection which arises (if any arises at all) when the +two who are thrown together begin first by knowing the rougher +sides of each other's character, and not the best till further on, +the romance growing up in the interstices of a mass of hard prosaic +reality. This good-fellowship--_camaraderie_--usually occurring +through similarity of pursuits, is unfortunately seldom superadded +to love between the sexes, because men and women associate, not in +their labours, but in their pleasures merely. Where, however, happy +circumstance permits its development, the compounded feeling proves +itself to be the only love which is strong as death--that love which +many waters cannot quench, nor the floods drown, beside which the +passion usually called by the name is evanescent as steam. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII + + +A FOGGY NIGHT AND MORNING--CONCLUSION + + +"The most private, secret, plainest wedding that it is possible to +have." + +Those had been Bathsheba's words to Oak one evening, some time after +the event of the preceding f, and he meditated a full hour by +the clock upon how to carry out her wishes to the letter. + +"A license--O yes, it must be a license," he said to himself at last. +"Very well, then; first, a license." + +On a dark night, a few days later, Oak came with mysterious steps +from the surrogate's door, in Casterbridge. On the way home he heard +a heavy tread in front of him, and, overtaking the man, found him to +be Coggan. They walked together into the village until they came to +a little lane behind the church, leading down to the cottage of Laban +Tall, who had lately been installed as clerk of the parish, and was +yet in mortal terror at church on Sundays when he heard his lone +voice among certain hard words of the Psalms, whither no man ventured +to follow him. + +"Well, good-night, Coggan," said Oak, "I'm going down this way." + +"Oh!" said Coggan, surprised; "what's going on to-night then, make so +bold Mr. Oak?" + +It seemed rather ungenerous not to tell Coggan, under the +circumstances, for Coggan had been true as steel all through the time +of Gabriel's unhappiness about Bathsheba, and Gabriel said, "You can +keep a secret, Coggan?" + +"You've proved me, and you know." + +"Yes, I have, and I do know. Well, then, mistress and I mean to get +married to-morrow morning." + +"Heaven's high tower! And yet I've thought of such a thing from time +to time; true, I have. But keeping it so close! Well, there, 'tis +no consarn of of mine, and I wish 'ee joy o' her." + +"Thank you, Coggan. But I assure 'ee that this great hush is not +what I wished for at all, or what either of us would have wished if +it hadn't been for certain things that would make a gay wedding seem +hardly the thing. Bathsheba has a great wish that all the parish +shall not be in church, looking at her--she's shy-like and nervous +about it, in fact--so I be doing this to humour her." + +"Ay, I see: quite right, too, I suppose I must say. And you be now +going down to the clerk." + +"Yes; you may as well come with me." + +"I am afeard your labour in keeping it close will be throwed away," +said Coggan, as they walked along. "Labe Tall's old woman will horn +it all over parish in half-an-hour." + +"So she will, upon my life; I never thought of that," said Oak, +pausing. "Yet I must tell him to-night, I suppose, for he's working +so far off, and leaves early." + +"I'll tell 'ee how we could tackle her," said Coggan. "I'll knock +and ask to speak to Laban outside the door, you standing in the +background. Then he'll come out, and you can tell yer tale. She'll +never guess what I want en for; and I'll make up a few words about +the farm-work, as a blind." + +This scheme was considered feasible; and Coggan advanced boldly, and +rapped at Mrs. Tall's door. Mrs. Tall herself opened it. + +"I wanted to have a word with Laban." + +"He's not at home, and won't be this side of eleven o'clock. He've +been forced to go over to Yalbury since shutting out work. I shall +do quite as well." + +"I hardly think you will. Stop a moment;" and Coggan stepped round +the corner of the porch to consult Oak. + +"Who's t'other man, then?" said Mrs. Tall. + +"Only a friend," said Coggan. + +"Say he's wanted to meet mistress near church-hatch to-morrow morning +at ten," said Oak, in a whisper. "That he must come without fail, +and wear his best clothes." + +"The clothes will floor us as safe as houses!" said Coggan. + +"It can't be helped," said Oak. "Tell her." + +So Coggan delivered the message. "Mind, het or wet, blow or snow, +he must come," added Jan. "'Tis very particular, indeed. The fact +is, 'tis to witness her sign some law-work about taking shares wi' +another farmer for a long span o' years. There, that's what 'tis, +and now I've told 'ee, Mother Tall, in a way I shouldn't ha' done +if I hadn't loved 'ee so hopeless well." + +Coggan retired before she could ask any further; and next they called +at the vicar's in a manner which excited no curiosity at all. Then +Gabriel went home, and prepared for the morrow. + + +"Liddy," said Bathsheba, on going to bed that night, "I want you to +call me at seven o'clock to-morrow, In case I shouldn't wake." + +"But you always do wake afore then, ma'am." + +"Yes, but I have something important to do, which I'll tell you of +when the time comes, and it's best to make sure." + +Bathsheba, however, awoke voluntarily at four, nor could she by any +contrivance get to sleep again. About six, being quite positive that +her watch had stopped during the night, she could wait no longer. +She went and tapped at Liddy's door, and after some labour awoke her. + +"But I thought it was I who had to call you?" said the bewildered +Liddy. "And it isn't six yet." + +"Indeed it is; how can you tell such a story, Liddy? I know it must +be ever so much past seven. Come to my room as soon as you can; I +want you to give my hair a good brushing." + +When Liddy came to Bathsheba's room her mistress was already waiting. +Liddy could not understand this extraordinary promptness. "Whatever +IS going on, ma'am?" she said. + +"Well, I'll tell you," said Bathsheba, with a mischievous smile in +her bright eyes. "Farmer Oak is coming here to dine with me to-day!" + +"Farmer Oak--and nobody else?--you two alone?" + +"Yes." + +"But is it safe, ma'am, after what's been said?" asked her companion, +dubiously. "A woman's good name is such a perishable article that--" + +Bathsheba laughed with a flushed cheek, and whispered in Liddy's ear, +although there was nobody present. Then Liddy stared and exclaimed, +"Souls alive, what news! It makes my heart go quite bumpity-bump!" + +"It makes mine rather furious, too," said Bathsheba. "However, +there's no getting out of it now!" + +It was a damp disagreeable morning. Nevertheless, at twenty minutes +to ten o'clock, Oak came out of his house, and + + + Went up the hill side + With that sort of stride + A man puts out when walking in search of a bride, + + +and knocked Bathsheba's door. Ten minutes later a large and a +smaller umbrella might have been seen moving from the same door, and +through the mist along the road to the church. The distance was not +more than a quarter of a mile, and these two sensible persons deemed +it unnecessary to drive. An observer must have been very close +indeed to discover that the forms under the umbrellas were those of +Oak and Bathsheba, arm-in-arm for the first time in their lives, Oak +in a greatcoat extending to his knees, and Bathsheba in a cloak that +reached her clogs. Yet, though so plainly dressed, there was a +certain rejuvenated appearance about her:-- + + + As though a rose should shut and be a bud again. + + +Repose had again incarnadined her cheeks; and having, at Gabriel's +request, arranged her hair this morning as she had worn it years ago +on Norcombe Hill, she seemed in his eyes remarkably like a girl of +that fascinating dream, which, considering that she was now only +three or four-and-twenty, was perhaps not very wonderful. In the +church were Tall, Liddy, and the parson, and in a remarkably short +space of time the deed was done. + +The two sat down very quietly to tea in Bathsheba's parlour in the +evening of the same day, for it had been arranged that Farmer Oak +should go there to live, since he had as yet neither money, house, +nor furniture worthy of the name, though he was on a sure way towards +them, whilst Bathsheba was, comparatively, in a plethora of all +three. + +Just as Bathsheba was pouring out a cup of tea, their ears were +greeted by the firing of a cannon, followed by what seemed like a +tremendous blowing of trumpets, in the front of the house. + +"There!" said Oak, laughing, "I knew those fellows were up to +something, by the look on their faces" + +Oak took up the light and went into the porch, followed by Bathsheba +with a shawl over her head. The rays fell upon a group of male +figures gathered upon the gravel in front, who, when they saw the +newly-married couple in the porch, set up a loud "Hurrah!" and at the +same moment bang again went the cannon in the background, followed by +a hideous clang of music from a drum, tambourine, clarionet, serpent, +hautboy, tenor-viol, and double-bass--the only remaining relics +of the true and original Weatherbury band--venerable worm-eaten +instruments, which had celebrated in their own persons the victories +of Marlborough, under the fingers of the forefathers of those who +played them now. The performers came forward, and marched up to the +front. + +"Those bright boys, Mark Clark and Jan, are at the bottom of all +this," said Oak. "Come in, souls, and have something to eat and +drink wi' me and my wife." + +"Not to-night," said Mr. Clark, with evident self-denial. "Thank +ye all the same; but we'll call at a more seemly time. However, we +couldn't think of letting the day pass without a note of admiration +of some sort. If ye could send a drop of som'at down to Warren's, +why so it is. Here's long life and happiness to neighbour Oak and +his comely bride!" + +"Thank ye; thank ye all," said Gabriel. "A bit and a drop shall be +sent to Warren's for ye at once. I had a thought that we might very +likely get a salute of some sort from our old friends, and I was +saying so to my wife but now." + +"Faith," said Coggan, in a critical tone, turning to his companions, +"the man hev learnt to say 'my wife' in a wonderful naterel way, +considering how very youthful he is in wedlock as yet--hey, +neighbours all?" + +"I never heerd a skilful old married feller of twenty years' +standing pipe 'my wife' in a more used note than 'a did," said Jacob +Smallbury. "It might have been a little more true to nater if't had +been spoke a little chillier, but that wasn't to be expected just +now." + +"That improvement will come wi' time," said Jan, twirling his eye. + +Then Oak laughed, and Bathsheba smiled (for she never laughed readily +now), and their friends turned to go. + +"Yes; I suppose that's the size o't," said Joseph Poorgrass with a +cheerful sigh as they moved away; "and I wish him joy o' her; though +I were once or twice upon saying to-day with holy Hosea, in my +scripture manner, which is my second nature, 'Ephraim is joined to +idols: let him alone.' But since 'tis as 'tis, why, it might have +been worse, and I feel my thanks accordingly." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD*** + + +******* This file should be named 107-8.txt or 107-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/107 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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