hold on this particular night, and have chosen it on
that account for his daring attempt. Moreover, to
raise suspicion to conviction itself, there were gipsies in!
Weatherbury Bottom.
Maryann, who had been afraid to shout in the robber's
presence, having seen him depart had no fear. She
hastily slipped on her clothes, stumped down the dis-
jointed staircase with its hundred creaks, ran to Coggan's,
the nearest house, and raised an alarm. Coggan called
Gabriel, who now again lodged in his house as at first,
and together they went to the paddock. Beyond all
doubt the horse was gone.
"Hark!" said Gabriel.
They listened. Distinct upon the stagnant air came
the sounds of a trotting horse passing up Longpuddle
Lane - just beyond the gipsies' encampment in Weather-
bury Bottom.
"That's our Dainty-i'll swear to her step." said Jan.
"Mighty me! Won't mis'ess storm and call us stupids
wen she comes back!" moaned Maryann. "How I
wish it had happened when she was at home, and none
of us had been answerable!"
"We must ride after." said Gabriel, decisively.
be responsible to Miss Everdene for what we do. Yes,
we'll follow. "
"Faith, I don't see how." said Coggan. "All our
horses are too heavy for that trick except little Poppet,
and what's she between two of us?-if we only had that
pair over the hedge we might do something."
"Which pair?"
"Mr Boldwood's Tidy and Moll."
"Then wait here till I come hither again." said Gabriel.
He ran down the hill towards Farmer Boldwood's.
"Farmer Boldwood is not at home." said Maryann.
"All the better." said Coggan. "I know what he's
gone for."
Less than five minutes brought up Oak again, running
at the same pace, with two halters dangling from his hand.
"Where did you find 'em?" said Coggan, turning
round and leaping upon the hedge without waiting for
an answer.
"Under the eaves. I knew where they were kept,"
said Gabriel, following him. "Coggan, you can ride
bare-backed? there's no time to look for saddles."
"Like a hero!" said Jan.
"Maryann, you go to hed." Gabriel shouted to her
from the top of the hedge.
Springing down into Boldwood's pastures, each
pocketed his halter to hide it from the horses, who,
seeing the men empty-handed, docilely allowed them-
selves to he seized by the mane, when the halters
were dexterously slipped on. Having neither bit nor
bridle, Oak and Coggan extemporized the former by
passing the rope in each case through the animal's
mouth and looping it on the other side. Oak vaulted
astride, and Coggan clambered up by aid of the hank,
when they ascended to the gate and galloped off in the
direction taken by Bathsheha's horse and the robber.
Whose vehicle the horse had been harnessed to was a
matter of some uncertainty.
Weatherbury Bottom was reached in three or four
minutes. They scanned the shady green patch by the
roadside. The gipsies were gone.
"The villains!" said Gabriel. "Which way have they
gone, I wonder?"
"Straight on, as sure as God made little apples,"
said Jan.
"Very well; we are better mounted, and must over-
discovered. The road-metal grew softer and more
rain had wetted its surface to a somewhat plastic, but
not muddy state. They came to cross-roads. Coggan
suddenly pulled up Moll and slipped off.
"What's the matter?" said Gabriel.
"We must try to track 'em, since we can't hear 'em,"
said Jan, fumbling in his pockets. He struck a light,
and held the match to the ground. The rain had been
heavier here, and all foot and horse tracks made previous
to the storm had been abraded and blurred by the drops,
and they were now so many little scoops of water, which
reflected the flame of the match like eyes. One set of
tracks was fresh and had no water in them; one pair of
ruts was also empty, and not small canals, like the others.
The footprints forming this recent impression were full
of information as to pace; they were in equidistant pairs,
three or four feet apart, the right and left foot of each
pair being exactly opposite one another.
"Straight on!" Jan exclaimed. "Tracks like that
mean a stiff gallop. No wonder we don't hear him.
And the horse is harnessed - look at the ruts. Ay,
"How do you know?"
"Old Jimmy Harris only shoed her last week, and
I'd swear to his make among ten thousand."
"The rest of the gipsies must ha" gone on earlier,
or some other way." said Oak. "You saw there were
no other tracks?"
"True." They rode along silently for a long weary
time. Coggan carried an old pinchbeck repeater which
he had inherited from some genius in his family; and
it now struck one. He lighted another match, and ex-
amined the ground again.
"'Tis a canter now." he said, throwing away the light.
"A twisty, rickety pace for a gig. The fact is, they over-
drove her at starting, we shall catch 'em yet."
Again they hastened on, and entered Blackmore
Vale. Coggan's watch struck one. When they looked
again the hoof-marks were so spaced as to form a sort
of zigzag if united, like the lamps along a street.
"That's a trot, I know." said Gabriel.
"Only a trot now." said Coggan, cheerfully. "We
shall overtake him in time."
They pushed rapidly on for yet two or three miles.
"Ah! a moment." said Jan. "Let's see how she was
driven up this hill. "Twill help us." A light was
promptly struck upon his gaiters as before, and the ex-
amination made,
"Hurrah!" said Coggan. "She walked up here -
and well she might. We shall get them in two miles,
for a crown."
They rode three, and listened. No sound was to be
heard save a millpond trickling hoarsely through a
hatch, and suggesting gloomy possibilities of drowning
by jumping in. Gabriel dismounted when they came
to a turning. The tracks were absolutely the only guide
as to the direction that they now had, and great caution
was necessary to avoid confusing them with some others
which had made their appearance lately.
"What does this mean? - though I guess." said
Gabriel, looking up at Coggan as he moved the match
over the ground about the turning. Coggan, who, no
less than the panting horses, had latterly shown signs
of weariness, again scrutinized the mystic characters.
This time only three were of the regular horseshoe
shape. Every fourth was a dot.
He screwed up his face and emitted a long
"Whew-w-w!"
"Lame." said Oak.
"Yes Dainty is lamed; the near-foot-afore." said
Coggan slowly staring still at the footprints.
"We'll push on." said Gabriel, remounting his humid
steed.
Although the road along its greater part had been as
good as any turnpike-road in the country, it was nomin-
ally only a byway. The last turning had brought them
into the high road leading to Bath. Coggan recollected
himself.
"We shall have him now!" he exclaimed.
"Where?"
"Sherton Turnpike. The keeper of that gate is the
sleepiest man between here and London - Dan Randall.
that's his name - knowed en for years, when he was at
Casterbridge gate. Between the lameness and the gate
'tis a done job."
'Twas said until, against a shady background of foliage,
five white bars were visible, crossing their route a little
way ahead.
"Hush - we are almost close!" said Gabriel.
"Amble on upon the grass." said Coggan.
The white bars were blotted out in the midst by a
dark shape in front of them. The silence of this lonely
time was pierced by an exclamation from that quarter.
"Hoy-a-hoy! Gate!"
It appeared that there had been a previous call which
they had not noticed, for on their close approach the
door of the turnpike-house opened, and the keeper
came out half-dressed, with a candle in his hand. The
rays illumined the whole group.
"Keep the gate close!" shouted Gabriel. "He has
stolen the horse!"
Who?" said the turnpike-man.
Gabriel looked at the driver of the gig, and saw a
woman - Bathsheba, his mistress.
On hearing his voice she had turned her face away
from the light. Coggan had, however, caught sight of
her in the meanwhile.
"Why, 'tis mistress-i'll take my oath!" he said,
amazed.
Bathsheba it certainly was, and she had by this time
done the trick she could do so well in crises not of love,
namely, mask a surprise by coolness of manner.
"Well, Gabriel." she inquired quietly," where are you
going?"
"We thought - - " began Gabriel.
"Bath." she said, taking for her own
use the assurance that Gabriel lacked. "An important
matter made it necessary for me to give up my visit to
liddy, and go off at once. What, then, were you
following me?"
"We thought the horse was stole."
"Well-what a thing! How very foolish of you not
to know that I had taken the trap and horse. I could
neither wake Maryann nor get into the house, though
I hammered for ten minutes against her window-sill.
Fortunately, I could get the key of the coach-house, so
I troubled no one further. Didn't you think it might
be me?"
"Why should we, miss?"
"Perhaps not Why, those are never Farmer Bold-
wood's horses! Goodness mercy! what have you been
doing bringing trouble upon me in this way? What!
mustn't a lady move an inch from her door without being
dogged like a thief?"
"But how was we to know, if you left no account of
your doings?" expostulated Coggan, "and ladies don't
drive at these hours, miss, as a jineral rule of society."
"I did leave an account - and you would have seen
it in the morning. I wrote in chalk on the coach-house
doors that I had come back for the horse and gig, and
driven off; that I could arouse nobody, and should
return soon."
"But you'll consider, ma'am, that we couldn't see
that till it got daylight."
"True." she said, and though vexed at first she had
too much sense to blame them long or seriously for a
devotion to her that was as valuable as it was rare.
She added with a very pretty grace," Well, I really thank
you heartily for taking all this trouble; but I wish you
had borrowed anybody's horses but Mr. Boldwood's."
"Dainty is lame, miss." said Coggan. "Can ye go
on?"
"lt was only a stone in her shoe. I got down and
pulled it out a hundred yards back. I can manage
very well, thank you. I shall be in Bath by daylight.
Will you now return, please?"
She turned her head - the gateman's candle
shimmering upon her quick, clear eyes as she did so -
passed through the gate, and was soon wrapped in the
embowering shades of mysterious summer boughs.
Coggan and Gabriel put about their horses, and, fanned
by the velvety air of this July night, retraced the road
by which they had come.
"A strange vagary, this of hers, isn't it, Oak?" said
Coggan, curiously.
"Yes." said Gabriel, shortly.
"She won't be in Bath by no daylight!"
"Coggan, suppose we keep this night's work as quiet
as we can?"
"I am of one and the same mind."
"Very well. We shall be home by three o'clock or
so, and can creep into the parish like lambs."
Bathsheba's perturbed meditations by the roadside
had ultimately evolved a conclusion that there were only
two remedies for the present desperate state of affairs.
The first was merely to keep Troy away from Weather-
bury till Boldwood's indignation had cooled; the second
to listen to Oak's entreaties, and Boldwood's denuncia-
tions, and give up Troy altogether.
Alas! Could she give up this new love - induce
him to renounce her by saying she did not like him -
could no more speak to him, and beg him, for her good,
to end his furlough in Bath, and see her and Weather-
bury no more?
It was a picture full of misery, but for a while she
contemplated it firmly, allowing herself, nevertheless,
as girls will, to dwell upon the happy life she would
have enjoyed had Troy been Boldwood, and the path
of love the path of duty - inflicting upon herself gratuit-
ous tortures by imagining him the lover of another
woman after forgetting her; for she had penetrated
Troy's nature so far as to estimate his tendencies pretty
accurately, hut unfortunately loved him no less in
thinking that he might soon cease to love her - indeed,
considerably more.
She jumped to her feet. She would see him at once.
Yes, she would implore him by word of mouth to assist
her in this dilemma. A letter to keep him away could
not reach him in time, even if he should be disposed to
listen to it.
Was Bathsheba altogether blind to the obvious fact
that the support of a lover's arms is not of a kind best
calculated to assist a resolve to renounce him? Or was
she sophistically sensible, with a thrill of pleasure, that
by adopting this course for getting rid of him she was
ensuring a meeting with him, at any rate, once more?
It was now dark, and the hour must have been nearly
ten. The only way to accomplish her purpose was to
give up her idea of visiting Liddy at Yalbury, return to
Weatherbury Farm, put the horse into the gig, and drive
at once to Bath. The scheme seemed at first impossible:
the journey was a fearfully heavy one, even for a strong
horse, at her own estimate; and she much underrated
the distance. It was most venturesome for a woman,
at night, and alone.
But could she go on to Liddy's and leave things to
take their course? No, no; anything but that. Bath-
sheba was full of a stimulating turbulence, beside which
caution vainly prayed for a hearing. she turned back
towards the village.
Her walk was slow, for she wished not to enter
Weatherbury till the cottagers were in bed, and, par-
ticularly, till Boldwood was secure. Her plan was now
to drive to Bath during the night, see Sergeant Troy in
the morning before he set out to come to her, bid him
farewell, and dismiss him: then to rest the horse
thoroughly (herself to weep the while, she thought),
starting early the next morning on her return journey.
By this arrangement she could trot Dainty gently all
the day, reach Liddy at Yalbury in the evening, and
come home to Weatherbury with her whenever they
chose - so nobody would know she had been to Bath
at all.
Such was Bathsheba's scheme. But in her topo-
graphical ignorance as a late comer to the place, she
misreckoned the distance of her journey as not much
more than half what it really was. Her idea, however,
she proceeded to carry out, with what initial success we
have already seen.
CHAPTER XXXIII
IN THE SUN - A HARBINGER
A WEEK passed, and there were no tidings of Bath-
sheba; nor was there any explanation of her Gilpin's
rig.
Then a note came for Maryann, stating that the
business which had called her mistress to Bath still
detained her there; but that she hoped to return
in the course of another week.
Another week passed. The oat-harvest began, and
all the men were a-field under a monochromatic Lammas
sky, amid the trembling air and short shadows of noon.
Indoors nothing was to be heard save the droning of
blue-bottle flies; out-of-doors the whetting of scythes
and the hiss of tressy oat-ears rubbing together as their
perpendicular stalks of amber-yellow fell heavily to each
swath. Every drop of moisture not in the men's bottles
and flagons in the form of cider was raining as perspira-
tion from their foreheads and cheeks. Drought was
everywhere else.
They were about to withdraw for a while into the
charitable shade of a tree in the fence, when Coggan
saw a figure in a blue coat and brass buttons running
to them across the field.
"I wonder who that is?" he said.
"I hope nothing is wrong about mistress." said
Maryann, who with some other women was tying the
bundles (oats being always sheafed on this farm), "but
an unlucky token came to me indoors this morning.
l went to unlock the door and dropped the key, and it
fell upon the stone floor and broke into two pieces.
Breaking a key is a dreadful bodement. I wish mis'ess
was home."
"'Tis Cain Ball." said Gabriel, pausing from whetting
his reaphook.
Oak was not bound by his agreement to assist in the
corn-field; but the harvest month is an anxious time for
a farmer, and the corn was Bathsheba's, so he lent a
hand.
"He's dressed up in his best clothes." said Matthew
Moon. "He hev been away from home for a few days,
since he's had that felon upon his finger; for 'a said,
since I can't work I'll have a hollerday."
"A good time for one - a excellent time." said Joseph
Poorgrass, straightening his back; for he, like some of
the others, had a way of resting a while from his labour
on such hot days for reasons preternaturally small; of
which Cain Pall's advent on a week-day in his Sunday-
clothes was one of the first magnitude. "Twas a bad leg
allowed me to read the Pilgrim's Progress, and Mark
Clark learnt AliFours in a whitlow."
"Ay, and my father put his arm out of joint to have
time to go courting." said Jan Coggan, in an eclipsing
tone, wiping his face with his shirt-sleeve and thrusting
back his hat upon the nape of his neck.
By this time Cainy was nearing the group of harvesters,
and was perceived to be carrying a large slice of bread
and ham in one hand, from which he took mouthfuls
as he ran, the other being wrapped in a bandage.
When he came close, his mouth assumed the bell shape,
and he began to cough violently.
"Now, Cainy!" said Gabriel, sternly. "How many
more times must I tell you to keep from running so fast
when you be eating? You'll choke yourself some day,
that's what you'll do, Cain Ball."
"Hok-hok-hok!" replied Cain. "A crumb of my
victuals went the wrong way - hok-hok!, That's what
'tis, Mister Oak! And I've been visiting to Bath
because I had a felon on my thumb; yes, and l've
seen - ahok-hok!"
Directly Cain mentioned Bath, they all threw down
their hooks and forks and drew round him. Un-
fortunately the erratic crumb did not improve his
narrative powers, and a supplementary hindrance was
that of a sneeze, jerking from his pocket his rather large
watch, which dangled in front of the young man
pendulum-wise.
"Yes." he continued, directing his thoughts to Bath
and letting his eyes follow, "l've seed the world at last
- yes - and I've seed our mis'ess - ahok-hok-hok!"
"Bother the boy!" said Gabriel." Something is
always going the wrong way down your throat, so that
you can't tell what's necessary to be told."
"Ahok! there! Please, Mister Oak, a gnat have
just fleed into my stomach and brought the cough on
again!"
"Yes, that's just it. Your mouth is always open, you
young rascal!"
"'Tis terrible bad to have a gnat fly down yer throat,
pore boy!" said Matthew Moon.
"Well, at Bath you saw - - " prompted Gabriel.
"I saw our mistress." continued the junior shepherd,
"and a sojer, walking along. And bymeby they got
closer and closer, and then they went arm-in-crook, like
courting complete - hok-hok! like courting complete -
hok! - courting complete - - " Losing the thread of his
narrative at this point simultaneously with his loss of
breath, their informant looked up and down the field
apparently for some clue to it. "Well, I see our mis'ess
and a soldier - a-ha-a-wk!"
"Damn the boy!" said Gabriel.
"'Tis only my manner, Mister Oak, if ye'll excuse it,"
said Cain Ball, looking reproachfully at Oak, with eyes
drenched in their own dew.
!Here's some cider for him - that'll cure his throat,"
said Jan Coggan, lifting a flagon of cider, pulling out
the cork, and applying the hole to Cainy's mouth;
Joseph Poorgrass in the meantime beginning to think
apprehensively of the serious consequences that would
follow Cainy Ball's strangulation in his cough, and the
history of his Bath adventures dying with him.
"For my poor self, I always say "please God" afore
I do anything." said Joseph, in an unboastful voice; "and
so should you, Cain Ball. "'Tis a great safeguard, and
might perhaps save you from being choked to death
some day."
Mr. Coggan poured the liquor with unstinted liber-
ality at the suffering Cain's circular mouth; half of it
running down the side of the flagon, and half of what
reached his mouth running down outside his throat,
and half of what ran in going the wrong way, and being
coughed and sneezed around the persons of the gathered
reapers in the form of a cider fog, which for a moment
hung in the sunny air like a small exhalation.
"There's a great clumsy sneeze! Why can't ye have
better manners, you young dog!" said Coggan, with-
drawing the flagon.
"The cider went up my nose!" cried Cainy, as soon
as he could speak; "and now 'tis gone down my neck,
and into my poor dumb felon, and over my shiny
buttons and all my best cloze!"
"The poor lad's cough is terrible unfortunate." said
Matthew Moon. "And a great history on hand, too.
Bump his back, shepherd."
"'Tis my nater." mourned Cain. "Mother says I
always was so excitable when my feelings were worked
up to a point!"
"True, true." said Joseph Poorgrass. "The Balls
were always a very excitable family. I knowed the
boy's grandfather - a truly nervous and modest man,
even to genteel refinery. 'Twas blush, blush with him,
almost as much as 'tis with me - not but that 'tis a
fault in me!"
"Not at all, Master Poorgrass." said Coggan. "'Tis
a very noble quality in ye."
"Heh-heh! well, I wish to noise nothing abroad -
nothing at all." murmured Poorgrass, diffidently. "But
we be born to things - that's true. Yet I would rather
my trifle were hid; though, perhaps, a high nater is a
little high, and at my birth all things were possible to
my Maker, and he may have begrudged no gifts....
But under your bushel, Joseph! under your bushel with
"ee! A strange desire, neighbours, this desire to hide,
and no praise due. Yet there is a Sermon on the
Mount with a calendar of the blessed at the head, and
certain meek men may be named therein."
"Cainy's grandfather was a very clever man." said
Matthew Moon. "Invented a' apple-tree out of his own
head, which is called by his name to this day - the Early
Ball. You know 'em, Jan? A Quarrenden grafted on
a Tom Putt, and a Rathe-ripe upon top o' that again.
"'Tis trew 'a used to bide about in a public-house wi' a
woman in a way he had no business to by rights, but
there - 'a were a clever man in the sense of the term."
"Now then." said Gabriel, impatiently, " what did you
see, Cain?"
"I seed our mis'ess go into a sort of a park place,
where there's seats, and shrubs and flowers, arm-in-crook
with a sojer." continued Cainy, firmly, and with a dim
sense that his words were very effective as regarded
Gabriel's emotions. "And I think the sojer was
Sergeant Troy. And they sat there together for more
than half-an-hour, talking moving things, and she once
was crying a'most to death. And when they came out
her eyes were shining and she was as white as a lily;
and they looked into one another's faces, as far-gone
friendly as a man and woman can be."
Gabriel's features seemed to get thinner. "Well,
what did you see besides?"
"Oh, all sorts."
"White as a lily? You are sure 'twas she?
"Yes."
"Well, what besides?"
"Great glass windows to the shops, and great clouds
in the sky, full of rain, and old wooden trees in the
country round."
"You stun-poll! What will ye say next?" said
Coggan.
"Let en alone." interposed Joseph Poorgrass. "The
boy's meaning is that the sky and the earth in the
kingdom of Bath is not altogether different from ours
here. 'Tis for our good to gain knowledge of strange
cities, and as such the boy's words should be suffered,
so to speak it."
"And the people of Bath." continued Cain, "never
need to light their fires except as a luxury, for the
water springs up out of the earth ready boiled for
use."
"'Tis true as the light." testified Matthew Moon." I've
heard other navigators say the same thing."
"They drink nothing else there." said Cain," and seem
to enjoy it, to see how they swaller it down."
"Well, it seems a barbarian practice enough to us,
but I daresay the natives think nothing o' it." said
Matthew.
"And don't victuals spring up as well as drink?"
asked Coggan, twirling his eye.
"No-i own to a blot there in Bath - a true blot.
God didn't provide 'em with victuals as well as (-
and 'twas a drawback I couldn't get over at all."
"Well, 'tis a curious place, to say the least." observed
Moon; "and it must be a curious people that live
therein. "
"Miss Everdene and the soldier were walking about
together, you say?" said Gabriel, returning to the
group.
"Ay, and she wore a beautiful gold-colour silk
gown, trimmed with black lace, that would have stood
alone 'ithout legs inside if required. 'Twas a very
winsome sight; and her hair was brushed splendid.
And when the sun shone upon the bright gown and his
red coat - my! how handsome they looked. You
could see 'em all the length of the street."
"And what then?" murmured Gabriel.
"And then I went into Griffin's to hae my boots
hobbed, and then I went to Riggs's batty-cake shop,
and asked 'em for a penneth of the cheapest and nicest
stales, that were all but blue-mouldy, but not quite.
And whilst I was chawing 'em down I walked on and
seed a clock with a face as big as a baking trendle - - "
"But that's nothing to do with mistress!"
"I'm coming to that, if you'll leave me alone, Mister
Oak!" remonstrated Cainy. "If you excites me,
perhaps you'll bring on my cough, and then I shan't be
able to tell ye nothing."
"Yes-let him tell it his own way." said Coggan.
Gabriel settled into a despairing attitude of patience,
and Cainy went on: -
"And there were great large houses, and more
people all the week long than at Weatherbury club-
walking on White Tuesdays. And I went to grand
churches and chapels. And how the parson would pray!
Yes; he would kneel down and put up his hands
together, and make the holy gold rings on his fingers
gleam and twinkle in yer eyes, that he'd earned
by praying so excellent well! - Ah yes, I wish I lived
there."
"Our poor Parson Thirdly can't get no money to
buy such rings." said Matthew Moon, thoughtfully.
"And as good a man as ever walked. I don't believe
poor Thirdly have a single one, even of humblest tin or
copper. Such a great ornament as they'd be to him on
a dull afternoon, when he's up in the pulpit lighted by
the wax candles! But 'tis impossible, poor man. Ah,
to think how unequal things be."
"Perhaps he's made of different stuff than to wear
"em." said Gabriel, grimly." Well, that's enough of this.
Go on, Cainy - quick."
"Oh - and the new style of parsons wear moustaches
and long beards." continued the illustrious traveller,
"and look like Moses and Aaron complete, and make
we fokes in the congregation feel all over like the
children of Israel."
"A very right feeling - very." said Joseph Poorgrass.
"And there's two religions going on in the nation
now - High Church and High Chapel. And, thinks I,
I'll play fair; so I went to High Church in the morning,
and High Chapel in the afternoon."
"A right and proper boy." said Joseph Poorgrass.
"Well, at High Church they pray singing, and worship
all the colours of the rainbow; and at High Chapel they
pray preaching, and worship drab and whitewash only.
And then-i didn't see no more of Miss Everdene at
all."
"Why didn't you say so afore, then?" exclaimed Oak,
with much disappointment.
"Ah." said Matthew Moon, 'she'll wish her cake
dough if so be she's over intimate with that man."
"She's not over intimate with him." said Gabriel,
indignantly.
"She would know better." said Coggan. "Our
mis'ess has too much sense under they knots of black
hair to do such a mad thing."
"You see, he's not a coarse, ignorant man, for he
was well brought up." said Matthew, dubiously. "'Twas
only wildness that made him a soldier, and maids rather
like your man of sin."
"Now, Cain Ball." said Gabriel restlessly, "can you
swear in the most awful form that the woman you saw
was Miss Everdene?"
"Cain Ball, you be no longer a babe and suckling,"
said Joseph in the sepulchral tone the circumstances
demanded, "and you know what taking an oath is.
'Tis a horrible testament mind ye, which you say and
seal with your blood-stone, and the prophet Matthew
tells us that on whomsoever it shall fall it will grind
him to powder. Now, before all the work-folk here
assembled, can you swear to your words as the shep-
herd asks ye?"
"Please no, Mister Oak!" said Cainy, looking from
one to the other with great uneasiness at the spiritual
magnitude of the position. "I don't mind saying 'tis
true, but I don't like to say 'tis damn true, if that's
what you mane."
"Cain, Cain, how can you!" asked Joseph sternly.
"You be asked to swear in a holy manner, and you
swear like wicked Shimei, the son of Gera, who cursed
as he came. Young man, fie!"
"No, I don't! 'Tis you want to squander a pore
boy's soul, Joseph Poorgrass - that's what 'tis!" said
Cain, beginning to cry. "All I mane is that in common
truth 'twas Miss Everdene and Sergeant Troy, but in
the horrible so-help-me truth that ye want to make of
it perhaps 'twas somebody else!"
"There's no getting at the rights of it." said Gabriel,
turning to his work.
"Cain Ball, you'll come to a bit of bread!" groaned
Joseph Poorgrass.
Then the reapers' hooks were flourished again, and
the old sounds went on. Gabriel, without making any
pretence of being lively, did nothing to show that he
was particularly dull. However, Coggan knew pretty
nearly how the land lay, and when they were in a nook
together he said -
"Don't take on about her, Gabriel. What difference
does it make whose sweetheart she is, since she can't be
yours?"
"That's the very thing I say to myself." said Gabriel.
CHAPTER XXXIV
HOME AGAIN - A TRICKSTER
THAT same evening at dusk Gabriel was leaning over
Coggan's garden-gate, taking an up-and-down survey
before retiring to rest.
A vehicle of some kind was softly creeping along
the grassy margin of the lane. From it spread the
tones of two women talking. The tones were natural
and not at all suppressed. Oak instantly knew the
voices to he those of Bathsheba and Liddy.
The carriage came opposite and passed by. It was
Miss Everdene's gig, and Liddy and her mistress were
the only occupants of the seat. Liddy was asking
questions about the city of Bath, and her companion
was answering them listlessly and unconcernedly. Both
Bathsheba and the horse seemed weary.
The exquisite relief of finding that she was here
again, safe and sound, overpowered all reflection, and
Oak could only luxuriate in the sense of it. All grave
reports were forgotten.
He lingered and lingered on, till there was no
difference between the eastern and western expanses
of sky, and the timid hares began to limp courageously
round the dim hillocks. Gabriel might have been
there an additional half-hour when a dark form walked
slowly by. "Good-night, Gabriel." the passer said.
It was Boldwood. "Good-night, sir." said Gabriel.
Boldwood likewise vanished up the road, and Oak
shortly afterwards turned indoors to bed.
Farmer Boldwood went on towards Miss Everdene's
house. He reached the front, and approaching the
entrance, saw a light in the parlour. The blind was
not drawn down, and inside the room was Bathsheba,
looking over some papers or letters. Her back was
towards Boldwood. He went to the door, knocked,
and waited with tense muscles and an aching brow.
Boldwood had not been outside his garden since
his meeting with Bathsheba in the road to Yalbury.
Silent and alone, he had remained in moody medita-
tion on woman's ways, deeming as essentials of the
whole sex the accidents of the single one of their
number he had ever closely beheld. By degrees a
more charitable temper had pervaded him, and this
was the reason of his sally to-night. He had come to
apologize and beg forgiveness of Bathsheba with some-
thing like a sense of shame at his violence, having but
just now learnt that she had returned - only from a
visit to Liddy, as he supposed, the Bath escapade
being quite unknown to him.
He inquired for Miss Everdene. Liddy's manner
was odd, but he did not notice it. She went in, leaving
him standing there, and in her absence the blind of the
room containing Bathsheba was pulled down. Bold-
wood augured ill from that sign. Liddy came out.
"My mistress cannot see you, sir." she said.
The farmer instantly went out by the gate. He
as unforgiven - that was the issue of it all. He had
seen her who was to him simultaneously a delight and
a torture, sitting in the room he had shared with her
as a peculiarly privileged guest only a little earlier in
he summer, and she had denied him an entrance
there now.
Boldwood did not hurry homeward. It was ten
o'clock at least, when, walking deliberately through the
lower part of Weatherbury, he heard the carrier's spring
van entering the village. The van ran to and from a
town in a northern direction, and it was owned and
driven by a Weatherbury man, at the door of whose
house it now pulled up. The lamp fixed to the head
of the hood illuminated a scarlet and gilded form, who
was the first to alight.
"Ah!" said Boldwood to himself, "come to see her
again."
Troy entered the carrier's house, which had been
the place of his lodging on his last visit to his native
place. Boldwood was moved by a sudden determina-
tion. He hastened home. In ten minutes he was
back again, and made as if he were going to call upon
Troy at the carrier's. But as he approached, some
one opened the door and came out. He heard this
person say " Good-night" to the inmates, and the voice
was Troy's. "This was strange, coming so immediately
after his arrival. Boldwood, however, hastened up
to him. Troy had what appeared to be a carpet-bag
in his hand - the same that he had brought with him.
It seemed as if he were going to leave again this very
night.
Troy turned up the hill and quickened his pace.
Boldwood stepped forward.
"Sergeant Troy?"
"Yes-i'm Sergeant Troy."
"Just arrived from up the country, I think?"Just arrived from Bath."
"I am William Boldwood."
"Indeed."
The tone in which this word was uttered was all
that had been wanted to bring Boldwood to the
point.
"I wish to speak a word with you." he said.
"What about?"
"About her who lives just ahead there - and about
a woman you have wronged."
"I wonder at your impertinence." said Troy, moving
on.
"Now look here." said Boldwood, standing in front
of him, " wonder or not, you are going to hold a conver-
sation with me."
Troy heard the dull determination in Boldwood's
voice, looked at his stalwart frame, then at the thick
cudgel he carried in his hand. He remembered it was
past ten o'clock. It seemed worth while to be civil to
Boldwood.
"Very well, I'll listen with pleasure." said Troy,
placing his bag on the ground, "only speak low, for
somebody or other may overhear us in the farmhouse
there."
"Well then - I know a good deal concerning your
Fanny Robin's attachment to you. I may say, too, that
I believe I am the only person in the village, excepting
Gabriel Oak, who does know it. You ought to marry
her."
"I suppose I ought. Indeed, l wish to, but I
cannot."
"Why?"
Troy was about to utter something hastily; he then
checked himself and said, "I am too poor." His voice
was changed. Previously it had had a devil-may-care
tone. It was the voice of a trickster now.
Boldwood's present mood was not critical enough to
notice tones. He continued, "I may as well speak
plainly; and understand, I don't wish to enter into the
questions of right or wrong, woman's honour and shame,
or to express any opinion on your conduct. I intend a
business transaction with you."
"I see." said Troy. "Suppose we sit down here."
An old tree trunk lay under the hedge immediately
opposite, and they sat down.
The tone in which this word was uttered was all
Troy heard the dull determination in Boldwood's
voice, looked at his stalwart frame, then at the thick
plainly; and understand, I don't wish to enter into the
"I was engaged to be married to Miss Everdene,"
said Boldwood, "but you came and - - "
"Not engaged." said Troy.
"As good as engaged."
"If I had not turned up she might have become en-
gaged to you."
"Hang might!"Would, then."
"If you had not come I should certainly - yes,
certainly - have been accepted by this time. If you had
not seen her you might have been married to Fanny.
Well, there's too much difference between Miss Ever-
dene's station and your own for this flirtation with her
ever to benefit you by ending in marriage. So all I ask
is, don't molest her any more. Marry Fanny.
make it worth your while."
"How will you?"
"I'll pay you well now, I'll settle a sum of money
upon her, and I'll see that you don't suffer from poverty
in the future. I'll put it clearly. Bathsheba is only
playing with you: you are too poor for her as I said;
so give up wasting your time about a great match you'll
never make for a moderate and rightful match you may
make to-morrow; take up your carpet-bag, turn about,
leave Weatherbury now, this night, and you shall take
fifty pounds with you. Fanny shall have fifty to enable
her to prepare for the wedding, when you have told me
where she is living, and she shall have five hundred
paid down on her wedding-day."
In making this statement Boldwood's voice revealed
only too clearly a consciousness of the weakness of his
position, his aims, and his method. His manner had
lapsed quite from that of the firm and dignified Bold-
wood of former times; and such a scheme as he had
now engaged in he would have condemned as childishly
imbecile only a few months ago. We discern a grand
force in the lover which he lacks whilst a free man; but
there is a breadth of vision in the free man which in
the lover we vainly seek. Where there is much bias
there must be some narrowness, and love, though added
emotion, is subtracted capacity. Boldwood exemplified
this to an abnormal degree: he knew nothing of Fanny
Robin's circumstances or whereabouts, he knew nothing
of Troy's possibilities, yet that was what he said.
"I like Fanny best." said Troy; "and if, as you say,
Miss Everdene is out of my reach, why I have all to
gain by accepting your money, and marrying Fan. But
she's only a servant."
"Never mind - do you agree to my arrangement?"
"I do."
"Ah!" said Boldwood, in a more elastic voice. "O,
Troy, if you like her best, why then did you step in here
and injure my happiness?"
"I love Fanny best now." said Troy. "But
Bathsh - - Miss Everdene inflamed me, and displaced
Fanny for a time. It is over now."
"Why should it be over so soon? And why then
did you come here again?"
"There are weighty reasons. Fifty pounds at once,
you said!"
"I did." said Boldwood, " and here they are - fifty
sovereigns." He handed Troy a small packet.
"You have everything ready - it seems that you
calculated on my accepting them." said the sergeant,
taking the packet.
"I thought you might accept them." said Boldwood.
"You've only my word that the programme shall be
adhered to, whilst I at any rate have fifty pounds."
"l had thought of that, and l have considered that
if I can't appeal to your honour I can trust to your -
well, shrewdness we'll call it - not to lose five hundred
pounds in prospect, and also make a bitter enemy of a
man who is willing to be an extremely useful friend."
"Stop, listen!" said Troy in a whisper.
A light pit-pat was audible upon the road just above
them.
"By George - 'tis she." he continued. "I must go
on and meet her."
"She - who?"
"Bathsheba."
"Bathsheba - out alone at this time o' night!" said
Boldwood in amazement, and starting up." Why must
you meet her?"
"She was expecting me to-night - and I must now
speak to her, and wish her good-bye, according to your
wish. "
"I don't see the necessity of speaking."