 CHAPTER 52 Christmas Eve came, and a party that Bouldwood was to give in the evening was the great subject of talk in Witherbury. It was not that the rarity of Christmas parties in the parish made this one a wonder, but that Bouldwood 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 shade-rack, mishack, and a bed-nigo. However 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 incumbrances were cleared out for dancing. The log, which was to form the back-brand of the evening fire, was the un-cleft 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 out-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 gayities would insist upon appearing like solemn grandiers. The organisation of the whole effort was carried out coldly by harlings, 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. Part 2 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. Bulwood 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 Bulwood had been indiscriminate in his interpretations. 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 are 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 Wetherbury. 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've been a widow-lady for 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. Part III Bouldwood was dressing also at this hour. A tailor from Castlebridge was with him, assisting him in the operation of trying on a new coat that had just been brought home. However had Bouldwood 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 Bouldwood 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. Bouldwood 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 Bouldwood, "'I shall of course see you here tonight. 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 me 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 looming 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 will 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 decorative properly. Perhaps you will tie it for me, and 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. Bulb would approach Gabriel, and as Oak tied the neckerchief the farmer went on feverishly. Can 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 of holes as a sieve with them.' "'Oh, don't talk like that. You've got quite cynical lately. How is it? We seem to have shifted to 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? Are you no women better than I? Tell me.' "'I'm 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 inclined 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 be married 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, no, it's no such thing,' he said within patience. Five years, nine months, and a few days. Fifteen months nearly have passed since he vanished. 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 been deceived. Her meaning may be good, but there she's young yet.' "'Deceived? Never,' said Bulwood 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. Vashiba is a woman to her word. Part Four Troy was sitting in a corner of the White Heart Tavern at Castor Bridge, 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. "'Bulwood?' "'No, lawyer Long.' "'You weren't at all. I went there first, too.' "'It'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 iris a rogue, and that is iris a l'amoc and vagabond, and that's a punishable situation.' "'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 Bulwood? Upon my soul I should never have believed it. Now she must detest me. Have you found out whether she has encouraged him?' "'I haven'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 going to the party at his house tonight. This is the first time she's ever gone there,' they say, and they say that she's not so much as spoken to him since they were at Greenhill Fair. But what can folk believe it? 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 three of at last, thank the stars.' He smoked on a while, and then I did. How did she look when you passed by yesterday? Oh, she took no great hate of me, you may well fancy. But she looked well enough, as I know. Just flashed her haughty eyes upon my poor, scram body, and then let them go past me to what was yonder, much as if I'd been no more than a leafless tree. She had just got off her mare to look at the last ring down of cider for the year. She'd been riding, and so her collars were up, and her breath rather quick, so that her bosom plumbed and fell, plumbed and fell, every time, plain to my eye. Aye! And there were the fellows round her, ringing out the cheese, and bustling about, and saying, Where are all the pommy man, till spoil you down? Never mind, said she. Then Gabe brought her some of the new cider, and she must need to go drink it through a straw-mote, and not in a natural way at all. Liddy, says she, Bring in doors a few gallons, and I'll make some cider wine. Sergeant, I have is no more to her than a morsel of scruff in the fuel-house. I must go and find her out at once. Oh, yes, I see that I must go. Oak is headman still, isn't he? Yes, I believe. And a little worth of reform, too. He's managing everything. It will 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's a few soft corners to her mind, though I've never been able to get into one that helps in it. Hey, Bailey, 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, Juneau wife of mine, Juneau was a goddess, you know, nor anybody else shall hurt you. But all this once looking into I perceive. What with one thing and another, I see that my work is well cut out for me. Part five. 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 nighter, a year and a half ago, when you came in so wild-like and scolded us for making remarks about you and Mr. Troy. Everybody will think that I am setting myself to captivate Mr. Bulbwood, I suppose. She murmured. At least they'll say so. Can't my hair be brushed down a little flatter? Oh, I dread going, yet I dread the whisk of wounding him by staying away. Anywhere, ma'am, you can't well be dressed plainer than you are unless you go in sackcloth at once. It is 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, I just suppose Mr. Bulbwood should ask you—only just oppose 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. Knowing what run things we will in be, I just said—however, I won't speak of it again. No marrying for me, yet, for many a year. If ever, it will be for reasons very, very different from those you think or others will believe. Now, I get my cloak, for it is time to go. Part 6 "'Oak,' said Bulbwood, before you go, I want to mention what has been passing in my mind lately. That little arrangement will be made about you or share in the farm, I mean. This chair is small—too small, considering how little I attended 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 shall, ah, pray don't speak of it, sir,' said Oak hastily. We don't know what may happen. So many upsets may befallee. As many as 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 learned a little about your secret. Your interest in her is more than that of Baeliff 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. Oh, that's not necessary, thank ye,' 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 Bulbwood's account, for he saw anew that this constant passion of the farmer made him not the man he once had been. As Bulbwood continued a while 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 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 pill-box, and was about to put it into his pocket. But he lingered to open the cover, and take a momentary glance inside. He contained a woman's fingering, set all the way round with small diamonds, and from its appearance had evidently been recently purchased. Bulbwood'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. Bulbwood closed the box, stowed it away carefully in his pocket, and went out upon the landing. The old man, who was his indoor factotan, came at the same moment to the foot of the stairs. They be coming, sir, lots of them, a foot in a drive-in! I was coming down this moment. Those wheels I heard, is it Mrs. Troy? No, sir, it is not she yet. A reserved and somber expression had returned to Bulbwood's face again, but it poorly cloaked his feeling 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. Part 7 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 nooch and 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 made up your mind a go, then? he said. Made up my mind? Yes, of course I have. Why not write to her? It is a very queer corner that you've 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 outspoken mind, and I've been called a long-headed fellow 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's too late, and I'm glad of it. I've been seen and recognised 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. A 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. But anyways, 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. It isn'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, they'd be a racket if you go back just now, in the middle of Bulbwood's Christmasing. 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 alonso 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. Uh! Horrible. All brandy, Pennyways. I felt an awful shudder just then. Well, what is there besides? A stick. I must have a walking stick. Pennyways. A mouth 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 her 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. Well, there's no telling to a certainty from her bodies 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. End of chapter 52, recording by Simon Evers. Chapter 53 Outside the front of Bulbwood'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 glow-worm shine of the pale lamp amid the evergreens over the door. He was seen in Casabridge 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. It is a strange story, said the next. You may depend upon it 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 it is true, he'll drag her to the dogs. Oh, no, he'll settle down quite enough, said one disposed to take a more hopeful view of the case. Not a fool she must have been ever to have had anything to do with the man. She's 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 thee there. She was no otherwise than a girl-mind, and how could she tell what the man was made of? If it is really true, it is too hard a punishment, and more than she ought to have. Hello, who's that? This to us are 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'll but miss the plank of the river, a thought there on the bottom. Never did such a thing before in my life. Be any of Bulbwood's work, folk? He peered into their faces. Yes, all of us. We met here a few minutes ago. Oh, I hear now that Sam Samway thought I know the voice to, going in. Presently. But I say, William, Samway whispered, have you heard this strange tale? What? That about a stardom? Try being seen, do you mean souls? Said Smallbury, also allowing his voice. Aye, in Casterbridge. Yes, I have. Laban Tall named a hint of it to me, but now, but I don't think it. Ah, here comes Laban himself, I believe. A footstep drew near. Laban? Yes, does I? Said Tall. Have you 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 it is not true, till flurry-er, and do a much arm to repeat it. And if so, be it is true, till do no good to forestall her time of trouble. God send that it might be a lie. Though Henry Frey and some of them 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 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 is a thing that can be said of very few. Aye, all the charm she thinks she says to your face, there's nothing underhand with her. They stood silent then. Every man busied with his own thoughts, during which interval the sounds of mediment 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 was 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, lent over the gate, and breathed a long breath. They heard low words coming 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 light 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, have you thought that?' said Samway. "'I wouldn't he should know we earn what he said for the world.' Remarked a third. "'I wish we had told of the report at once.' The first unusually continued. "'More harm may come of this than we know of.' Mr. Boldwood, it'd be hard upon him. "'I wish Troy was in—' Ah, 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 have no heart to go in. Let's look into Warren's for a few minutes first, youless neighbours.' Samway, tall and small, Brie, agreed to go to Warren's, and went out at the gate, the remaining ones entering the house. The three soon drew nearer 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 companion 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 Malt Star. "'The spree is all in our honour, isn't it, eh?' said the old man. Although he may believe it is only keeping up a Christmas. "'I cannot say,' said Oak. "'Oh, it is true enough, Faith. I cannot understand Father Bulwabin such a fool at his time of life as to hoan and hanker after the woman the way I do, and she not care a bit about him.' 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 ear-shot, all by one instinct paused. "'He 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,' smallbrew murmured dubiously. "'What 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 him know at once. Laban, you know her best. You better go and ask to speak to her.' "'I bane 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 smallbrew. "'Tis a ticklish business altogether. Why, he'll go on to her himself in a few minutes. You'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. Bouldwood. If I tell anybody, it'll 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 the 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 her after all,' Laban faltered out. They were all in such a sturd trying to put a little spit it into the party. Somehow the fun seemed to hang far, though everything's there that a heart could desire, and I couldn't put a my soul into fear and throw damp upon it, if it was to save my life I couldn't.' "'I suppose we'd 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 a 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 lining 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'd hardly been there a moment, when the master of the house entered. "'Mrs. Troy, you're not going,' he said. "'We've hardly begun. "'If it 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 Bulmwood. "'You know perhaps what I longed to say?' Bathsheba silently looked at 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.' Bulmwood knew how false this picture was as regarded himself. But he approved that it was the only turn 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 you are still a very beautiful woman,' said Bulmwood. "'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 on her, 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'm afraid what to do. I want it 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 the solicitor, Mr. Bulbwood, if I ought to 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 manna 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 its 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. Very well. If he does not return, 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.' Bulwood 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. Bulwood, don't!' In her trouble of not being able to get her hand away from him at once, she stamped passionately on the floor with one foot, and tears crowded 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 at his firm grasp. "'Come now,' unbulwood slipped the ring on her finger. "'I cannot wear it,' she said, weeping as if her heart would break. "'You've frightened 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 her chair, and buried her face in her handkerchief, though Bulwood kept her hand yet. At length, she said in a sort of hopeless whisper, "'Very well, then. I will tonight, 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. Bulwood 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 workfolk especially, a group conversed in whispers and with clouded looks. Bulwood was standing by the far place, and he too, those 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 or scents. "'What is it you are in doubt about, men?' he said. One of them turned and replied uneasily. "'It was something Leibnherr of that sort, sir.' "'News? Anybody married or engaged, born or dead?' inquired the farmer gaily. "'Ted it to us tall. One would think from your looks and mysterious ways that it was something that if 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 Bulwood, 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 him, you'd 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 wrapping 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. "'I didn't tell them to send.' "'It's a stranger, ma'am,' said the man by the door. "'A stranger?' she said. "'Ask him to come in,' said Bulwood. 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. Bulwood was among those who did not notice that he was Troy. "'Come in, come in,' he repeated cheerfully, and drain a Christmas beaker with a stranger. Next advance into the middle of a room, took off his cap, turned down his coat collar, and looked Bulwood in the face. Even then Bulwood did not recognize that the impersonator of Heaven's persistent irony towards him, who 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. Bulwood 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 was not all a tenable 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 for the far place. 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 Bulwood. 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 gutter serena. Her mind was for the minute totally deprived of light, at the same time that no obscuration was apparent from without. Troy stretched out his hand to pull 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 impregnated 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 a 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 Bouldwood. At his back, as he stood before the fireplace, was a gun-rack, as is usually in farmhouses constructed to hold two guns. When Bathsheba had cried out in her husband's grasp, Bouldwood's face of gnashing despair had changed. The veins had swollen, and a friendly look had leaned in his eye. He had turned quickly, taking 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. Bouldwood was seen through the smoke to be now again engaged with the gun. It was double-barreled, and he had meanwhile in some way fastened his handkerchief 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. Bouldwood 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. But it makes no difference. Bouldwood 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. End of chapter 53 Chapter 54 After the Shock Bouldwood 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 Melstock 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 he passed along. He turned to the right, and halted before an archway of heavy stonework which was closed by an unstudied pair of doors. This was the entrance to the jail, and over it a lamp was fixed, the light enabling the wretched traveller to find a bell-pull. The small wicket had last opened, and a porter appeared. Bouldwood stepped forward, and said something in a low tone, when, after a delay, another man came. Bouldwood entered, and the door was closed behind him, and he walked the world no more. Long before this time, Wetherbury had been thoroughly aroused, and the wild deed which had terminated Bouldwood's merry-making 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 Bouldwood'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 a 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 seldom thought practicable what she did not practise. She was of the staff 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. 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 Castorbridge instantly for a surgeon. It is, I believe, useless, but go. Mr. Bulwood 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 Bulwood? 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 opposed 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 Bulwood'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. Aldrich, 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 had then found that Bulwood had also entered the town and delivered himself up. In the meantime the surgeon having hastened into the hall at Bulwood'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 said he took away to her own house, sir, said his informant. Who has? said the doctor. Mrs. Troy, I was quite dead, sir. This was a stunning issue of 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 by neglected for folks to stare at for all the crowners in England. Mr. Aldrich 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'd better go and lie down because I look so ill. Then she docked herself into the room along with him who 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 a movie about inside for more than an hour but she only came out once and that was for more candles because hers had burned 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's mulberry. 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 emanated burst of melpomony. After all, did she have come at last? she murmured from her lips merely and threw back the door. Ah! had 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. Aldrich in a subdued voice. The body has been undressed and properly laid out in grave-clothes. Grecious 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 tree and turning they saw Bathsheba in the midst of them. Then, as if at that instant to prove that her fortitude would be 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 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? Oh, Heaven! How can I live? End of Chapter 54 Recording by Simon Evers Chapter 55 of Far From the Madding Crowd This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Simon Evers Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy Chapter 55 The March Following Bathsheba-Voldwood 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 Castbridge, 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 who had mounted to the top of a cutting formed for the road were several Weatherbury men and boys, amongst others, Porgrass, 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 while a flourish was blown by the big cheat trumpeters and a procession being formed of the vehicles and javelin men, they all proceeded towards the town, accepting the Weatherbury men, who as soon as they had seen the judge move off returned home again to their work. "'Joseys, I see you squeezing close to the carriage,' said Coggan, as they walked. "'Did you notice my Lord Judge's face?' "'I did,' said Porgrass. "'I looked hard at him, and if as I would read his very soul, "'and there was mercy in his eyes, "'or to speak with the exact truth "'regard of us at this solemn time "'in the eye that was towards me.' "'What I hope for the best,' said Coggan, "'though bad that might be. "'However, I shall not go to the trial, "'and I advise the rest of you "'that Bate wanting to bite away. "'Till disturb his mind more than anything "'to see us there, stare at him as if he were a shoal. "'Very thing I said this morning,' observed Joseph. "'Justice has come to weigh him in the balances,' "'I said in a reflectuous way. "'And if he's found wanting, so be it unto him.' "'And at my stand I said, "'Here, here, a man who can talk like that ought to be heard.' "'But I don't like dwelling upon it "'for my few words and my few words are not much. "'Though the speech of some men is rumoured abroad "'as though by nature formed for such.' "'Ah, so it is, 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. "'The suspense was diverted, however, "'by a discovery which was made in the afternoon, "'throwing more light on Bulbwood's conduct and condition "'than any details which had preceded it. "'There he had been from the time of Greenhill Fair "'until the fatal Christmas Eve, "'in excited and unusual moods, "'was known to those who'd 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 moths, Sable and Irmin. "'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, Bouldwood. "'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 Malthouse when Oak entered "'from Castlebridge with tidings of the sentence. "'He came in the afternoon, and his face, "'as the kiln glow shone upon it, "'told the tale sufficiently well. "'Bouldwood, as every one supposed he would do, "'had pleaded guilty and had been sentenced to death. "'The conviction that Bouldwood had not "'been morally responsible for his later acts "'now became general. "'Facts elicited previous to the trial "'have pointed strongly in the same direction, "'but there had not been a sufficient weight "'to lead to an order for an examination "'to the state of Bouldwood's mind. "'It was astonishing, now that at presumption "'of insanity was raised, how many collateral "'circumstances were amended to which a condition "'of mental disease seemed to afford the only explanation. "'Among others, the unprecedented intellect "'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 Carcerbridge, as is usually in such cases. "'For Bouldwood 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, "'the God-made country villages to supply customers "'to country towns, should have confused ideas "'about the Decalogue. "'The Promptors were a few merciful men "'who perhaps too feelingly considered the facts "'latterly unearthed. "'And the result was that evidence was taken "'which was hoped might remove the crime, "'in a moral point of view, out of the category "'of willful murder, and lead it to be regarded "'as a sheer outcome of madness. "'The upshot of the petition was waited for "'in Weatherbury with solicitor's 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 Carcerbridge Jail, "'whether he had been to wish Bouldwood 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 jail entrance, rich and glowing "'in the afternoon sun, and some moving figures were there. "'There 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 for more than two hours. "'Do you think he really was out of his mind "'when he did it?' said Smallbury. "'I can't honestly say that I do,' he could replied. "'However, that we can talk of another time "'as there been any change in mistress this afternoon. "'None at all. "'Is she downstairs?' "'No, I'm getting on so nicely as she was to. "'She's put very little better now again "'than she was at Christmas. "'She keeps on asking if you'd become "'and if there's news, till one's weird out with answering her. "'Should 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 all too much?' said Cogan. "'If you hadn'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 Castlebridge and awaited his arrival. Among them Oak, and nearly all the rest of Bathsheba's men. Gabriel's anxiety was great. The bulb would 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 all were weary, the tramp of a horse was heard in the distance. First dared as if on Turfitt Road, then clattering on the village road, in other pace than forth he owed. "'Which will soon know one way or another,' 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, Tiscum, he's not to die. "'Tiscum find me during Her Majesty's pleasure.' "'Hurrah!' said Coggan with a swelling heart. "'God's above the devil yet.' End of Chapter 55 CHAPTER 56 Of Far From the Matting Crowd This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Leanne Howlett Far From the Matting Crowd by Thomas Hardy CHAPTER 56 Beauty and 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 where it furthest went into the garden. She shunned everyone, 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 super-intended 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 somber event of the preceding Christmas. None of the old color 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 practicing. 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 and beloved memory of Fanny Robin who died October 9th, 18 blank, 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 blank, aged 26 years. While she stood in red 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 laterally 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 to leave off for crowding thought 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 and as a 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 in 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 a while, sang the children. Don't let me drive you away, mistress. I think I won't go in tonight. Oh no, you don't drive me away. Then they stood in a state of some embarrassment. Bathsheba trying to wipe her dreadfully drenched in an inflamed face without his noticing her. At length Oak said, I've not seen you, I mean spoken to you for 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'd 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 their 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 of it, it's 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 lease 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 of 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 an evident anxiety to get away, and at once went out of the churchyard by a path she could follow on no pretense whatever. Bathsheba went home. Her mind occupied with a new trouble, which being rather harassing than deadly was calculated to do good in 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, mounted 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 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 parlor 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, leaving 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 the 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 Boldwoods 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. In March that day she looked round and hoped that oak, whose base 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 look 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 desire to rely on her own resources again. It seemed to herself that she could never 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 she was a 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'm Mr. Oak said Gabriel. Who have I the honor? Oh, how stupid of me not to know you, mistress. I shall not be your mistress much longer, shall I, Gabriel? 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 number 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 sheenan with long years of handlin' that formed Oak's array of household possessions which sent back a dancing reflection and 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 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's 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 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'm not going to immigrate, you know. I wasn't aware that you would wish me not to when I told you or I shouldn't have thought of doing it, he said simply. I have arranged for little weatherbury farm and she'll have it in my own hands at home. 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 had 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've played the part of mentor to me many times that I don't see why you should fear to do it now. It is nothing at this time. The top and tail of it is this, that I'm sniffing about here and waiting for poor Bouldwood's farm with the thought of getting you someday. Getting me? What does that mean? Marrying a bee 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 she 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 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 fainth 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 will never 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 but you 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 you 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 arose 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 have 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 interceases of a mass of hard prosaic reality this good fellowship camaraderie usually occurring through similarity of pursuits is unfortunately seldom super added to love between the sexes because men and women associate not in their labors 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 effervescent esteem End of chapter 56 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 57 Far from the madding crowd This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Leanne Howlett Far from the madding crowd by Thomas Hardy Chapter 57 A foggy night and morning conclusion The most private secret plainest wedding that it is possible to have Those have been Bathsheba's words to Oak one evening sometime after the event of the preceding chapter and he meditated a full hour by the clock upon how to carry out her wishes to the letter A license Oh 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 Castor Bridge On the way home he heard a heavy tread in front of him and overtaking the man found him to be Coggin They walked together into the village until they came to a little lane behind the church leading down to the cottage of Labintol who had lately been installed as clerk of the parish and was yet in mortal terror at church on Sundays when he heard his long voice with certain hard words of the Psalms with their no man ventured to follow him Well good night Coggin said Oak I'm going down this way Oh, said Coggin, surprised What's going on tonight then makes so bold Mr. Oak It seemed rather ungenerous not to tell Coggin under the circumstances for Coggin had been true as steel all through the time of Gabriel's unhappiness about Bathsheba and Gabriel said You can keep a secret Coggin You've proved me and you know Yes, I have and I do know Well then, Mr. Sinai mean to get married tomorrow 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 it is no concern of mine and I wish you joy of her Thank you Coggin I assure you 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 humor her I, 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 labor and keeping it close will be thrown away said Coggin as they walked along Leib 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 tonight I suppose for he's working so far off and leaves early I'll tell he how he could tackle her said Coggin 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 your tale she'll never guess what I wanted for and I'll make up a few words about the farm work as a blind This scheme was considered feasible and Coggin advanced boldly and wrapped it Mrs. Tall's door Mrs. Tall herself opened it I wanted to have a word with Laban He's not at home He's not at home and won't be this side of eleven o'clock He's 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 Coggin stepped around the corner of the porch to consult Oak Who's the other man then said Mrs. Tall Only a friend said Coggin Say he's wanted to meet mistress in a church hatch tomorrow morning at ten said Oak and a whisper that he must come without fail and wear his best clothes The clothes will floor us as safe as houses said Coggin It can't be helped said Oak Tell her So Coggin delivered the message Mind, head or wet, blow or snow he must come, added Jan It is very particular indeed The fact is to witness her sign some law work that shares with another farmer for a long span of years There, that's what is and now I've told him, mother Tall in a way I shouldn't have done if I hadn't loved thee so hopeless well Coggin retired before she could ask any further and next they called it the Vickers in a manner which excited no curiosity at all Then Gabriel went home and prepared for the morrow Liddy said Bathsheba I'm going to bed that night I want you to call me at seven o'clock tomorrow in case I shouldn't wake Would you always do wake before 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 to wake 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 knew 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 today 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 was left 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 hillside 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 and arm for the first time in their lives Oak in a great coat 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 Rapose had again incarnated her cheeks and having at Gabriel's request arranged her hair this morning as she had worn it years ago on Norcom 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 Parsons and in a remarkably short space of time the deed was done The two sat down very quietly to tea in Bathsheba's parlor in the evening of the same day for it had been arranged that Farmer Oak should go there to live that neither money, house, nor furniture were the 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 with the cannon in the background followed by a hideous clang of music from a drum, tambourine clarinet, serpent hoat boy, tenor vial 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 Marlboro 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 with me and my wife Not tonight, said Mr. Clark with evident self-denial Thank ye all the same, but we'll call at a more seemingly 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 summit down to Warren's, why so it is Here is long life and happiness to neighbor Oak and his comely bride Thank ye, thank ye all said Gabriel A bit in a drop shall be sent to Warren's for ye at once I had a thought that we might very likely salute of some sort from our old friends and I was saying so to my wife, but now Faith, said Coggin, in a critical tone turning to his companions The man have learned to say, my wife in a wonderful natural way, considering how very youthful he is in wedlock as yet A neighbor's all I never heard a skillful old married fellow of twenty years standing pipe my wife and a more used note than he did, said Jacob Smallbury It might have been a little more true to nature if it had been spoke a little chillier, but that wasn't to be expected just now That improvement will come with 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 of it, said Joseph Poorgrass with a cheerful sigh as they moved away and I wish him joy her though I were once or twice upon saying today 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 chapter 57, recording by Leanne Howlett End of far from the madding crowd by Thomas Hardy