 8. The Malthouse, The Chat, News Warran's Malthouse was enclosed by an old wall, enwrapped 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 ivy wall in front. Voices were to be heard inside. Oak's hand skimmed the surface of the door, with fingers extended to an elmer's the sorcerer pattern, till he found a leather 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 unplanned 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 molster. 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 britches and the laced up shoes called ankle jacks. He kept his eyes fixed upon the fire. Gabrielle'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 everyone, oculary 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, I believe. We thought we heard a hand pouring about the door for the bobbin, but weren't sure to or not a dead leaf blowed across. Said another, come in, shepherd, sure you be welcome, though we don't know your name. Gabrielle Oak, that's my name, neighbours. The ancient molster sitting in the midst turned at this. He's 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 Gabrielle, said the shepherd, placidly. Thought I nod man's face as I seed him on the rick. Thought I did, and where you be trading ought to now, shepherd. I'm thinking abiding here, said Mr Oak. Knowed your grandfather for years and years, continued the molster, the words coming forth of their own accord as if the momentum previously imparted had been sufficient. Ah, and did you. Knowed your grandmother, and her too. Likewise, knowed your father when he was a child. Why, my boy Jacob there and your father were sworn brothers, that they were sure weren't your Jacob. Ah, sure, said his son. A young man about sixty-five, with a semi-balled 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 Twos Joe had most do with him, however, my son William must have known the very man of Forrest, didn't ya, Billy, afore you left Norcombe. No, Twos 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. Ah, 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 Twos only last Pure Affection Day in this very world, when the used money is guide away to the second best poor folk. You know, Shepherd, and I can mind the day because they all had to traps up to diversity. Yes, this very man's family. Come, Shepherd, and drink. Tis gape, and swallow with us, a drabless summit. But not of much account, said the molster, removing from the fire his eyes, which were vermillion red and blared by gazing into it for so many years. Take up the God, forgive me, Jacob. Seed his form, 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 third 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 topper feel ashamed of himself when he sees its bottom in drinking it empty. Jacob, on receding 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 at the proper degree, raised the cup, and very civilly, attempted to dust some of the ashes from the bottom with the skirt of his mock frock, because shepherd oak was a stranger. A clean cup for the shepherd, said the molster, commandingly. No, not at all, said Gabrielle, in a reproving tone of considerateness. I never fuss about dirt in its purest state, and when I know what thought it is, taking the mug he'd drunk 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 moist tone, after recovering from the stoppage of breath, which is occasioned by pools at large mugs. A right sensible man, said Jacob. True, true, it can't be game said, 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 he's a mouthful of bread and bacon, that misses have sent, shepherd. The sider will go down better, with a bit of victuals. Don't you two quite close, shepherd, for I left the bacon full in the road outside, as I was bringing it along, and maybe just rather gritty. There, just claim dirt, and we all know what that is, as you say, and you paint 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, it is wonderful, what can be done by contrivance. My own mind exactly, neighbour. Ah, he's his grandfather's own grandson. His grandfather was just such a nice, unparticular man, said the molster. Drink, Henry Frey, drink. Magnanimously said Jan Coggan, a person who held safe, Simonium notions of share and share alike, where liquor was concerned, as the vessel showed signs of approaching him in a gradual revolution among them. Having at this moment reached the end of the 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, Henry, strenuously insisting upon that spelling, and if any passing skillmaster 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 which to whom, orthographical differences were matters, which had a great deal to do with personal character. Mr. Jane Coggan, who had passed a cup to Henry, 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 supple jovial kind. Come, Mark Clark, come, there's plenty more in the barrel, said Jane. Ah, that I will, tis my only doctor, replied Mr. Clark, who, twenty years younger than Jane Coggan, revolved in the same orbit. He secreted mirth on all occasions for special discharge at popular parties. Why, Joseph Porgras, ye 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 a young missus' face. So I hear, Joseph, all looked at Joseph Porgras with pity and 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 see'd her, twist nothing that blushes with me. Poor fellow, said Mr. Clark. Tis a curious nature for a man, said Jane Coggan. Yes, continued Joseph Porgras, his shyness, which was so painful as a defect, filling him with a mould complacency, now that it was regarded as an interesting study. To a blush, blush, blush with me every minute of the time, when she was speaking to me. I believe ye, Joseph Porgras, for we all know ye to be a very bashful man. Tis a awkward gift for a man, poor soul, said the molster. And how long have ye have suffered from it, Joseph? 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 Porgras? Oh, aye, tried all sorts of company. They took me to Greenhill Fair, and into a great gay, gerry-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 air and manned 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 baddie people in the face from morning till night. But twas no use. I was just as bad as ever, after all. Blushes have been in the family for generations. There, tis a happy providence that I'd be no worse. True, said Jacob Scalbury, deepening his thoughts to a profounder view of the subject. Tis a thought to look at, that ye might have been worse, that even as ye be, tis a very bad affliction for ye, Joseph. For ye see, shepherd, though tis very well for a woman, dang it all, tis awkward for a man like him, poor fella. Tis, tis, said Gabriel, recovering from a meditation. Yes, very awkward for the man. Ah, and he's very timid too, observed, Jan Cogan. Once he had been working late at Yelbury Bottom, and had had a drink, and lost his way as he was coming home along through Yelbury Wood. Didn't ye, master poor grass? No, no, no, not that story, as postulated the modest man, forcing a laugh to bury his concern. And so, a lost himself quite, continued Mr. Cogan, 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 appeared and not able to find his way out of the tree's know-how. A cried out, man lost, man lost, a owl in a tree happened to be crying, hoo, hoo, hoo, as owls do, you know, shepherd. Gabrielle nodded, and Joseph, all in a tremble, said, Joseph poor grass, a weather-breed, 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 poor grass, a weather-breed, sir. No, no, what's right is right, and I never said, sir, to the bird, knowing where well that no man of a gentleman's rank would be hollering there at that time of night. Joseph poor grass, a weather-breed, that's every word I said, and I shouldn't have, said that if to hadn't been for keeper days, methicling. There, was a merciful thing it ended where it did. The question of which was right, being tacitly waved by the company, Jan went on meditatively. And he's the fear-fullest man, don't you, Joseph? Ah, another time you were lost by a lambing down gate, weren't you, Joseph? I was, replied poor grass, 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. Ah, 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, that 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 a 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 ash pit, which glowed like a desert in the tropics under a vertical sun, shaping their eyes long and liney, partly because of the light, partly from the depth of the subject discussed. Gabrielle broke the silence. What sort of a place is this to live at, and what sort of a missus is she to work under? Gabrielle's bosom threw gently as he thus slipped under the notice of the assembly, the innermost subject of his heart. With no little of her, nothing, she only showed herself a few days ago. Her uncle was took bad, and the doctor was called with his worldwide skill, but he couldn't save the man. As I take it, she's going to keep on the farm. That's about the shepherd, I believe, said Jane Cogan. Ah, tis a very good family. I'd soon be under him, as under one here and there. Her uncle was a very fair sort of man. Did you know one, shepherd, a bachelor man? Not at all. I used to go to his house, according to my first wife, Charlotte. Who was his dairymaid? Well, a very good-hearted man, with farmer Everdeen. 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 mean, of course. Aye-aye, Jane Cogan, we know you're manning. And so you see, to his beautiful ale, and I wish to value his kindness as much as I could, but not to be so ill-mannered as to drink only a thimbleful, which would have been insulting the man's generosity. True, Master Cogan, toward so corroborated my clark. And so I used to eat a lot as salt fish are foregoing, and then by the time I got there, I wore as dry as a lime basket, so thorough dry that that ale would slip down, aye? Tow'd 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 with 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, that for a wetter the better class, that brought you no nearer to the horn man, than you were a foe, you begun. There was none like those in Farmer Everdeen's kitchen. Not a single dam allowed. No, not a bare poor one, even at the most cheerful moment when all were blindeth. Though the good old word is sin-thrown in here and there, and sometimes is a great relief to a merry soul. True, said the molster, no to requires her swearing at the regular times, or she's not herself, and unholy exclamations is a necessity of life. But Charlotte continued Cogan, not a word of the sort would Charlotte allow. Nor the smallest item of taking in vain, ah, poor Charlotte, I wonder if she'd had the good fortune to get into heaven when it died. But I was never much in luck's way, and perhaps I went downwards after all. Poor soul, and did any of you know Miss Everdeen'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'd been dead for years. Father, what sort of people were Mrs. Father and Mother? Well, said the molster. 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 of times. So, twist said, observed Cogan. He was very proud of her, too, when they were married. As I'd been told, said the molster. Ah, said Cogan. 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. Mermin Joseph Porgras, who habitually spoke on a large scale in his moral reflections. Well, to be sure, said Gabriel. Oh, tis true enough. I know the man and woman both well. Leave I Everdeen. That was the man's name, sure. Man, said I, in my hurry, that he were the higher circle of life than that. I was a gentleman tailor, really, with 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 molster, being rather short of breath, Mr. Cogan, after absently scrutinising a coal which had fallen among the ashes, took up the narrative with a private twill of his eye. Well now, you've hardly believed it, but that man, our Miss Everdeen's father, was one of the ficklest husbands alive after a while. Understand, I didn't want to be fickle, but he couldn't help it. The poor fellow were faithful and true enough to her in his wish, but his heart would grow. Do what he would. He spoke to me in real tribulation about it once. Cogan, he said, I could never wish for a handsome old 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 a maiden name as they sat together after the shop was shut. And so I 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. I got to like her as well as ever and they lived on a perfect picture of mutual love. Well, twice the most ungodly remedy, murmured Joseph Porgras, that 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 Porgras. He got himself confirmed over again in a more serious way and took to saying, Amen, almost as loud as the cloak. And he liked to copy comforting verses from the tombstones. He used, too, to hold the money plate and 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 unaware 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. Ah, at that time he thought of nothing but high things, added Billy Smallbury. One day Parson Thirdly met him and said, Good morning, Mr. Everdeen. It's a fine day. Amen, said Everdeen, quite absent-like, thinking only of religion when he see to Parson. Yes, he was a very Christian man. Their daughter was not at all a pretty child at that time, said Henry Frey. Never should have thought she'd have grown up such a handsome body as she is. Tis to be hoped her temper is as good as her face. Well, yes, but the Bailey will have most to do with the business and ourselves. Ah, Henry gazed into the ash pit and smiled volumes of ironical knowledge. A queer Christian, like the devil's head in a cow. Footnote. This phrase is a conjectural emanation of the unintellectible expression as the devil said to the owl used by the natives. End of footnote. As the saying is, volunteered Mark Clarke, he is, said Henry, 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 some days as working days that I do so. Good faith, you do talk, said Gabriel. True enough, said the man, a bit of moods, looking round upon the company with their 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, Malta, to have some's groad mild and ancient. He remarked, Father, so old that I can't mind his age. Can your father? Interpose Jacob. And he's grown 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 molster, grimly and not in the best humour. Shepherd would like to hear the pedigree of your life, Father, wouldn't you, Shepherd? Ah, 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, Malta? The molster cleared his throat in an exaggerated form for emphasis, and, allegating his gaze to the remotest point of the ash pit, 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 bowed it up a long puddle across there, nodding to the north, till I were eleven. I bowed seven at Kingsbear, nodding to the east, where I took to Malting. I went there from to Norcombe, and moulded there two and twenty years, and two and twenty years I was there turning, hoeing and harvesting. Ah, I know that old place, Norcombe, years before you were thought of, Master Oak, Oak smiled since your belief in the fact. Then I moulded at Burnover four year, and four year turn of 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 Melstock, and I've been here one and thirty year, come Candlemas. How much is that? Hundred and seventeen, shuckled another old gentleman, giving to mental arithmetic and little conversation, who had hitherto sat unobserved in a corner. Well then, that's my age, said the molster, emphatically. Oh no, Father, said Jacob, your turn of hoeing were in the summer, and you're moulding in the winter of the same years, and you don't ought to count both halves, Father. Chock at all, I lived through the summers, didn't I? That's my question, I suppose you'll say next I be no age at all to speak of. Sure we shan't, said Gabrielle, soothingly. You be a very old age-person molter, attested Jan Kogan, also soothingly. We all know that, and you must have a wonderful, talented constitution to be able to live so long, mustn't he, neighbours? True, true, you must, molter, wonderful, said the meeting unanimously. The molster, 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 Gabrielle's oak's flute became visible over his smocked frock pocket, and Henry Frey exclaimed, Surely Shepard, I seed you growing into a great flute by now at Caster Bridge. You did, said Gabrielle, blushing faintly. I'd been in a great trouble, neighbours, and I 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 Shepard, and your time will come. But we could thank you for a tune. It can bank too tired. Neither drum nor trumpet have I heard since Christmas, said Jan Kogan. Come, raise a tune, Master Oak. Ah, that I will, said Gabrielle, pulling out his flute and putting it together. A poor tool, neighbours, but such as I can do, you shall have and welcome. Oak then struck up, jockey to the fair, and played that sparkling melody three times through, assenting 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, sitting young married man, who having no individuality worth mentioning was known as Susan Tall's husband. He continued, I'd as life 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, murmur Joseph Porgrass, in a soft condense. We ought to feel full of thanksgiving, that he's not a player at baddie songs instead of these merry tunes, for toward a bend just as easy for God to have made the shepherd a loose low man, a man of iniquity, so to speak, as what he is. Yes, for our wives and daughters' sakes, we should feel real thanksgiving. True, true, real thanksgiving, dashed in Mark Clarke 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 whitershooted man as in the raggedest tramp upon the turnpike, if I may term it so. Ah, I can mind your face now, shepherd, said Henry Fray, criticising Gabriel with misty eyes as he entered upon his second tune. Yes, now, I see ye blowing into the flute, I know ye, to be the same man I see play at Coaster Bridge, for ye mouth were scrimped up and ye eyes are staring out like a strangled man, just as they be now. It is a pity that playing in the flute should make a man look such a scarecrow, observed Mr Mark Clarke, 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, Twasmole and Bette and Doll and Kate, and Dorothy Draggle-Tale. 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 my nature ye be a very handsome man, shepherd, continued Joseph Porgras, with winning sovereignty. Ah, that ye be, shepherd, said the company. Thank ye very much, said Oak, in the modest tone good manners demanded, thinking, however, that he would never let the sheba see him playing the flute. In this resolve showing a discretion equal to that related to its agitivity, I would say, dear's inventress, the divine manoeuvre herself. Ah, when I and my wife were married at Norcombe Church, said the old molster, not pleased at finding himself left out of the subject, we would call the handsomest couple in the neighborhood. Everybody said so. Dang'd, if ye bane'd, altered now, molter, 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 atone for by the occasional chuckle he contributed to general laughs. Ah, no, no, said Gabrielle. 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, hunging wires. If I thought after, I'd let that music be still playing, and I'm not there, I should be quite melancholy-like. What's your hurry then, Laban, inquired Cogan? You used to bide 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 lords, as the saying is, I suppose remarked Cogan. Ah, I believe, ha-ha, said Susan Tall's husband, in atone intended to imply his habitual reception of jokes without minding them at all. The young man then wished them good night and withdrew. Henry Frey was the first to follow. Then Gabrielle arose and went off with Jane Cogan, who had offered him a lodging. A few minutes later, when the remaining ones were on their legs and about to depart, Frey 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 Porgras' face. Oh, what's the matter? What's the matter, Henry? said Joseph, starting back. What's the brewing, Henry? asked Jacob, and Mark Clarke. Bailey Pennyways, Bailey Pennyways, I said so, yes, I said so. What, found out stealing anything? Stealing it is, the news is, that after Miss Everdeen got home, she went out again to see all with soap, as she usually do, and coming in found Bailey Pennyways creeping down the granary steps with half a bush or a barley. She fled at him like a cat, never such a time boy as she is. Of course, I speak with closed doors. You do, you do, Henry. She fled 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 Bailey now? The question was such a profound one, that Henry 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 you heard the news that all over Parish, about Bailey 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 Porgras, waving his hands spasmodically. I've had the news bell ring in my left ear quite bad enough for a murder, and I've seen a magpie all alone. Fanny Robin, Miss Everdeen'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 Mary Ann, to think the beginning of a coroner's inquest has happened to the poor girl. Oh, Tisburned, Tisburned, came from Joseph Porgras's dry lips. No, Tisdreow, said Tall. Or Tis her father's razor, suggested Billy Smallbury, with a vivid sense of detail. Well, Miss Everdeen wants to speak to the one or two of us before we go to bed. What would this trouble about the Bailey, and now about the girl? Mrs is almost wild. They all hastened up the lane to the farmhouse, accepting the old molster, whom neither news, fire, rain, nor thunder could draw from his hole. There, as the other's 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, both sheavers' 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, man, several, said Susan Tall's husband. Tomorrow morning, I wish to all three of you to make inquiries in the village's 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 your pardon, but had she any young man courting her in the parish man, asked Jacob Smallbury. I don't know, said Bathsheba. I've never heard of any such thing, man, 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 Mary Ann with only her indoor working gown on, not even a bonnet. A new mean man, excusing my words, that a young woman would hardly go to see a 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 Mary Ann, 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 tomorrow, 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 know harm through a man of that kind, and then there's the chance to graceful appear at 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 worthwhile to dwell upon any particular one. Do as I told you then, she said, in conclusion, closing the casement. Aye aye, Mistress, we will. They replied, and moved away. That night at Cogan's, Gabrielle Oak, beneath the screen of closed eyelids, was busy with fancies and full of movement, like a river flowing rapidly under its eyes. 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 tonight, 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 pots, but he did not know what to do. He also thought of plans for fetching his few utensils and books from Norcombe, the young man's best companion, the farrier sure-guide, the veterinary surgeon, Paradise Lost, the pilgrim's progress, Robinson Crusoe, Ashes, Dictionary, and Walking Games, Arithmetic, constituted his library, and they were 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 full-long abladen shelves. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9. Far from the Madden crowd. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Lucy Burgoyne. Far from the Madden crowd, by Thomas Hardy. Chapter 9. The homestead, a visitor, half-confidences. By daylight, the Bower evokes newfound mistress, Besheba Eberdeen, presented itself as a hoary building, at the early stage of classic renaissance, as regards its architecture, and of a proportion which told at a glance that, as it so frequently decays, 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 comprises several such modest, dimestness. Fluted pilasters, worked from the solid stone, decorated its front, and above the roof, the chimneys were paneled, or colnar. Some cope 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, the tufts of the house leak, or sandgreens sprouted from the eaves, at the low surrounding buildings. A gravel wall, 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 prospect here, together with the animated and contrasting state of the reverse percode, suggested to the imagination that on the adaption 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 paralysis, are often seen to be inflicted upon edifices, either individual or to the aggregate as streets and towns, which were originally planned for pleasure alone. The ugly 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 is 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 were seen to be eaten into innumerable pieces. Every window replied by a cling to the opening and shutting of every door. The tremble fired every bustling movement and a creek accompanied a walker about the house like a spirit wherever he went. In the room from which the conversation proceeded, the sheba and her servant companion, Liddy Smolvery, books, bottles and rubbish spread out there on, remnants from the household stores of the late occupier. Liddy, the molster's great-granddaughter, was about the sheba'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 which at this wintertime was the soft and rudderness on a surface of high rotundity that we meet within Turburg or a Gerard Dow and like the presentations of those great colorists it was a face which kept well back from the boundary between comelinness and the ideal. Though elastic in nature she was less daring than the sheba which consisted half of genuine feeling and half of manilanness super-added by way of duty. Through a partly open door the noise of a scrubbing brush led up to the charwoman Mary Ann Money a person who for her face had a circular disc furrowed less by age than by long gazes of perplexity at distant objects. She was to get good human to speak of her was to raise the image of a dried Normandy Pippin. Stop your scrubbing a moment said the sheba through the door to her I hear something Mary Ann suspended the brush the tramp of a horse was apparent approaching the front of the building the paces slackened turned in at the wicked and what was most unusual was a nasty path close to the door the door was tapped with the end of a crop or a 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 the sheba the further expression instead of narrative why doesn't Mrs. Cogan go to the door the sheba continued ratatata resounded more decisively from the sheba's oaf Mary Ann you go she said fluttering under the onset of a crowd of romantic possibilities oh ma'am see he's a mess the argument was unanswerable after a glance at Mary Ann she must said the sheba Liddy held up her hands and arms coated with dust from the rubbish they were sorting and looked imploringly at her mistress there Mrs. Cogan is going said the sheba exhaling her relief in the form of a long breath which had laid in her bosom a minute or more the door open and a deep voice said at home I'll see Sue said Mrs. Cogan and in a minute appeared in the room dear what a third over place this world is continued Mrs. Cogan 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 she 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. Volvo wanting to see you miss Everdeen a woman's dress being a part of the nature in the one being of the same nature with a male formation or wound in the other but she said at once I can't see in this state whatever shall I do not at homes were hardly naturalised in weatherbury farmhouses so Lydia suggested say you're a fright with dust and can't come down yes that sounds very well said Mrs. Cogan critically that will do Mrs. Cogan went downstairs and returned the answer as requested adding however on her own responsibility miss is dusting bottles and is quite our object that's why it is oh very well said the deep voice indifferently all I wanted to ask was if anything had been heard of Fanny Robin William Smallberry is gone to Casterbridge where her young man lives as is supposed and the other men be inquiring about everywhere the horse is cramped and recommenced and retreated and the door closed who is Mr. Bulwood said the sheba a gentleman farmer at Little Weatherbury married and rich why to bother this dusting news I am always in some unfortunate plight or other but she besaid 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 then he's such a hopeless man for a woman he's been courted by sixes and sevens all the girls gentle and simple for miles round having tried him Jan Perkins worked at him for two months like a slave and the two Miss Taylor spent a year upon him and he cost Farmer Ives daughter nights of tears a little boy came up at this moment and looked in upon them this child was one of the Cuggins who with the small berries were as common among the families of this district as the Avons and Derwent's among our rivers he always had a loose and tooth or a cut finger to show to particular friends which he did with an air of being thereby elevated above the common hood of humanity to which exhibition people were expected to save poor child with a dash of congratulation as well as pity I've got a penny said Master Cogan in a scanning measure well who gave it to you Teddy said Lily Mr Bulwood he gave it to me for opening the gate what did he say and he said she's a staid woman isn't she my little man and I said yes you naughty child what did you say that for because he gave me the penny what a pucker everything is in said the sheba discontentedly when the child had gone get away Mary Ann or go on with your scrubbing or do something ah mistress so I did for 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 Lily ventured to ask when they were again alone lots of them I dare say the sheba 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 and having been published as old a man wanted to once she said in a highly experienced tone and the image of Gabrielle Oak as the farmer rose before her how nice it must seem said Lily with the fixed features 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 see my hero 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 here litty look 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-sulp which distinctly organised in other respects have one will common to a whole family some were as usual in snow white smocked frocks of Russian duck and some in whitey brown ones of rabbit marved on the wrists breasts, facts and sleighs with honeycomb work two or three women in patterns brought up the rear the Philistines be upon us making her nose white against the glass oh very well Mary Ann go down and keep them in the kitchen till I am dressed and then show them in to me in the hall End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 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 by Simon Evers Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy Chapter 10 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 with 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 Bulbwood said Jacob Smallbury and I went with him but we found nothing and the new shepherd had been to Buxill by Yalbury thinking she had gone there but nobody had seen her said Laban Tall Hasn't William Smallbury been to Castlebridge? Yes ma'am but he's not yet come home He promised to be back by six It was a quarter to six at present said Bathsheba looking at her watch I dare say he'll be indirectly but now then she looked into the book Joseph Porgrass Are you there? Yes sir up ma'am I mean said the person addressed I be the personal name of Porgrass and what are you? Nothing, me and I in the eye of other people well I don't want to say it though public thought will out What do you do on the farm? I do carding things all the year sir How much to you? Please, nine and nine but it's a good eight me where it was a bad one sir ma'am I mean quite correct Now here are ten shillings in addition as a small present as I'm a newcomer Bathsheba blushed slightly at the sense of being generous in public an ennory fray who'd drawn up towards her chair lifted his eyebrows and fingers 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 ma'am said ennory fray to which point he deadged himself Matthew Moon ma'am at Bathsheba turning her bright eye to the book ten and top and safe nears the sun put down to you I see Yes Mrs. said Matthew as the rustle of wind among dead leaves here it is and ten shillings now the next Andrew Randall you are a new man I hear how come you to leave your last form please ma'am as a stammering man ma'am said Henry 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 he can cuss ma'am as well as you or I but he can't speak a common speech to save his life Andrew Randall here's yours finished thanking me in a day or two temperance miller oh here's another soberness both women I suppose yes ma'am here we be I believe was echoed in shrill unison what have you been doing attending thrashing machine and wimbling a-bonds and saying to the cocks and ends when they go upon your seeds and planting early flower balls and Thompson's wonderfuls with a dibble yes I see all ma'am that asked me yielding women as scarred a pair as ever was groaned Henry under his breath sit down oh ma'am sit down Joseph Porgrass in the background twitched and his lips became dry with fear of some terrible consequences as he saw Bathsheba summarily speaking and Henry slinking off to a corner now the next layman 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 ma'am must live said a woman in the back quarter who had just entered with clicking patterns 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 layman would you stay on yes you'll stay ma'am said again the shrill tongue of layman's lawful wife well he can speak for himself I suppose whole Lord not he ma'am simple two come a mortal the wife replied laughed the married man with a hideous effort of appreciation for he was an irrepressibly good human 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 a new shepherd will want a man under him suggested Henry Fray trying to make himself official again by a side-way approach towards her chair oh he will who can he have young Cain Ball is a very good lad Henry said shepherd old 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 door-post with his arms folded oh I don't mind that said Gabriel how did Cain come by such a name asked Bathsheba oh you see ma'am his poor mother not being a scripture-read woman made a mistake at his christening thinking it was Abel killed Cain and called him Cain meaning Abel all the time Barson put it right but it was too late for the name could never be got rid of in the parish it is very unfortunate for the boy it is rather unfortunate however we soften it down as much as we can and call him Cainie poor 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 have visited upon the children men Mr. Frey 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 Cainie Ball to be under Shepherd and you quite understand your duties you I mean Gabriel Oak quite well I thank you Miss Everdeen 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 had ever been other than strangers but perhaps her heir 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 foot steps were heard in the passage combining in their character the qualities both of weight and measure rather at the expense of velocity ah yes but his small break come from Castle Bridge 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 remote boundaries I should have been soon a 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 Henry well what about Fanny said Bathsheba well mum in round numbers she's run away with the soldiers said William no not a steady girl like Fanny I'll tell you all particulars when I got to Castle Bridge barracks the 11th Dragoon guards be gone away and new troops have come the 11th left last week for Melchester and Olmwoods Baruch came from government like a thief in the night as is his nature too and before the 11th knew it almost they were on the march they passed near here Gabor had listened with interest I saw them go he said yes continue William they pranced down the street in glorious knots of triumph every looker's on 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 going to any war nor ma'am but they began to take the places of them who may which is very close connected and so I said to myself Fanny's young ma'am was one of the regiment and she's gone after him 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 Gabor remained musing and said nothing for he was in doubt well we are not likely to know more tonight at any rate said Bathsheba but one of you had better run across to farmer Bulwoods and tell him that much she then rose in a morning dress added a soboness that was harder 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 no excellent well said said lady I should be up before you are awake I should be a field before you are up and I shall have breakfast before you are a field in short I shall astonish you all yes ma'am and so good night good night ma'am then this small, thammas feet 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 end of chapter 10 recording by Simon Evers chapter 11 of Far From the Madding Crowd this is the 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 11 outside the barracks snow a meeting with 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 is giving 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 reaching at its remote verge to a wide undulating upland the changes of the seasons are less obtrusive on spots of this kind than a mid-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 many are not so stealthy and gradual as we may be apt to imagine in considering the general torpedoity of a moor or waist winter in coming to the country hereabout advanced in well-marked stages where it might have been successively observed the retreat of the snakes the transformation of the ferns the filling of the pools a rising of fogs of the fungi and an obliteration by snow this climax of the series had been reached tonight on the aforesaid moor and for the first time in the season its irregularities were forms without features suggestions of anything proclaiming nothing without moor character than that of being the limit of something else the lowest layer of a firmament of snow from this chaotic sky full of crowding flakes peed 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 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 anything could be gloomier than the wall it was the river beneath the indistinct summit of the façade was notched and pronged by chimneys here and there and upon its face were faintly signified the oblong shapes of windows they're 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 on 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 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 and replied to the single 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 a marriage being looked upon with disfavour in the army assignations and communications have probably been made across the river before tonight is it Sergeant Troy said the blurred spot in the snow tremulously this persons 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 man in the man with a half suppressed gasp of emotion the dialogue went on how did you come here I asked which was your window forgive me I did not expect you tonight indeed I did not think you would come at all it was a wonder you found me I am orderly tomorrow you said I was to come well I said that you might yes I mean that I might you're glad to see me Frank oh yes of course can you come to me my dear fan know the bugle has sounded the barricades are closed and I have no leave we are all of us as good as in the county jail till tomorrow morning then I shall not 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 would it be what that you promised I don't quite recollect oh 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 oh must I it is when shall we be married Frank I see well you have to get proper clothes I have money would it be by bands or license bands 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 so Frank you think me forward I am afraid don't dear Frank would you for I love you so sometimes you would marry me and I don't cry now it is foolish if I said so of course I will and shall I put up the bands in my parish and will you in yours yes tomorrow not tomorrow we'll settle in a few days you have the permission of the officers no not yet oh how is it you said you almost had it before you left Casterbridge the fact is I forgot to ask you coming like this is so sudden and unexpected yes yes it is it was wrong me to worry you I'll go away now would you come and see me tomorrow 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 oh how is Sergeant Ho an expostulation followed but it was indistinct and it became lost amid a low peel of laughter which was hardly distinguishable from the gurgle of the tiny whirlpools outside end of chapter 11 recording by Simon Evers chapter 12 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 12 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 corn market at Castor Bridge the low though extensive hall supported by beams and pillars and laterally 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 straight in their hands ground ash saplings using them partly as walking sticks and partly for poking at pigs, sheep neighbors with their backs churned 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 over waiting it on the ground 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 splung upon the floor an issue of events perfectly well known to the half a dozen acute town bread fowls which had as usual crept into the building unobserved and waited the fulfillment of their anticipations with a high stretch neck and oblique eye among these heavy yeoman a feminine figure glided in her sex at the room contained she was prettily and even daintily dressed she moved between them as a chase 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 imagine 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 there were 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 are 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 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 potentially enough and that life 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 seen 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 and a dealer and reduced theirs persistently as was inevitable in a woman but there was an elasticity and her firmness 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 everdeen's niece took on weatherbury upper farm turned away the Bailey and swore she'll do everything herself the other man would then shake his head yes Tissa pity she's so head strong the first would say but we ought to be proud of her here but she's only made however that she'll soon get picked up it would be un-gallant 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 debut 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 like a little fellow 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 seemed 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 in differently 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 the bronze-like richness of tone he was erect an attitude in quiet and demeanor one characteristic preeminently marked him dignity apparently he had some time ago reached that entrance to middle age in 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 35 and 50 were his limits of variation he might have been either or anywhere between the two it may be said that married men of 40 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 the 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 color, shape and general liniments that they were that young lady farmers property and the grocers and drapers no more I've been through it Liddy and it is over I shan't mind that again 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 peaked a very good looking man she continued upright, about 40 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 have an notion besides Tis no difference since he took less notice of you than any of the rest now if he had 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 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 passes unconsciously and abstractly don't you think so she remarked oh yes very everybody owns it replied Liddy I wonder why he is so wrapped 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 in Mary a woman jilted him they say people always say that and we know very well women scarcely ever jilt men 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 he is so 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 that is most likely you may take my word miss that that's what's the matter with him end of chapter 12 recording by Leanne Howlett chapter 13 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 Leanne Howlett far from the madding crowd by Thomas Hardy chapter 13 Sorta Sanctorum The Valentine it was Sunday afternoon in the farmhouse on the 13th of February dinner being over Bathsheba had asked Liddy to come and sit with her the moldy pile was dreary in wintertime 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 where 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 made 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 and leather Liddy looking at it said did you ever find out miss who you're 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 Liddy fetched it I wish it wasn't Sunday she said on returning perhaps tis wrong what's right weekdays 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 red verses by the forefingers of unpracticed readers in former days where they were moved along to 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 from 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 adambrating by the remark the track her thoughts had taken no indeed said Bathsheba was serene in difference to your's 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 proportionally 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 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 was it a farmer bold would it was a 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 Coggin 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 and castor bridge in the center was a small oval enclosure this was left blank that the sender might insert tender words more appropriate to the special occasion than any generality as 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 roses red the violet blue carnations sweet and so are you that shall be it it just suits itself to a chubby face 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 the idea at full length boldwoods 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 and the girl like Liddy should talk about it so Liddy's idea was at first rather harassing than pecan no I won't do that he wouldn't see any humor in it he'd worry to death said the persistent Liddy really I don't care particularly to send it to Teddy remarked from mistress he's rather a naughty child sometimes yes that he is let's toss his mendu said Bathsheba idly told 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 mess 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 Teddy 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 remembered 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 with hot wax to discover the words capital she exclaimed throwing down the letter frolicsimly twid it set the solemnity of a parson and clerk 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 Castorbridge post office that night to be returned to Weatherbury again in the morning so very idly and reflectingly of her knowledge but of love subjectively she knew nothing End of Chapter 13 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 14 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 14 Effect of the Letter Sunrise At dusk on the evening of St. Valentine's Day Bouldwood sat down to supper as usual by a beaming fire of aged logs Upon the mantel-shark 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 fasting itself till the large red seal became as a blot of blood on the retina of his eye and as he yet undrank he still read in fancy the words thereon although they were too remote for his sight Marry me The pertin junction was like those crystal substances which colourless themselves assumed the tones of objects about them Here in the quiet of Bouldwood'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 was the symmetry of his existence to be slowly getting distorted in the direction of an ideal passion The disturbance was of 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 letter was of the smallest magnitude compatible with its existence at all Bouldwood of course and such an explanation did not strike him as a possibility even It is foreign to a mystified condition of mind to realise 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 in Bouldwood's life It was the first time in Bouldwood'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 in various ways and in many other ways it was the first time in Bouldwood's life 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 watched every curve as she formed it Her brain had seen him in imagination the while Why should she have imagined him? Her mouth whether lips red or pale had increased had curved itself to a certain expression as this 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 for writing under the sky Whenever Bouldwood 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 which 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 Bouldwood looked as he had a hundred times the preceding day at the insistent red seal Marry me, he said aloud The Solomon 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 won in expression and insubstantial in form He saw how closely compressed was his mouth and that his eyes were widespread 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 Bouldwood arose and dressed himself He distended the stairs and went out towards the gate of a field as 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 ledden to the northward and murky to the east where over the snowy down or eulise 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 Bouldwood 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 one cavalette in the twisted and curved shapes of old Venetian glass and how the footprints of a few birds which had hopped over the snow while 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 Bouldwood 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 Bouldwood seized it and opened it expecting another anonymous one so greatly are people's ideas a probability, a mere sense that a precedent will repeat itself I don't think it's for you, sir said the man when he saw Bulbwood's action Well, there's no name I think it is for your shepherd yes to the new shepherd Wetherbury Farm near Castor Bridge Oh, what a mistake it is not mine nor is it for my shepherd it is for Miss Everdeen's you better take it on to him gave your oak and say I opened it a 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 a piece 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 Bouldwood that's the man on the hill I'll take the letter to him myself it was 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 with other shepherd was apparently bent Bouldwood followed at a distance end of chapter 14 recording by