Far from the Madding Crowd Thomas Hardy (best books for 20 year olds .TXT) đ
- Author: Thomas Hardy
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To the eyes of the middle-aged, Bathsheba was perhaps additionally charming just now. Her exuberance of spirit was pruned down; the original phantom of delight had shown herself to be not too bright for human natureâs daily food, and she had been able to enter this second poetical phase without losing much of the first in the process.
Bathshebaâs return from a two monthsâ visit to her old aunt at Norcombe afforded the impassioned and yearning farmer a pretext for inquiring directly after herâ ânow possibly in the ninth month of her widowhoodâ âand endeavouring to get a notion of her state of mind regarding him. This occurred in the middle of the haymaking, and Boldwood contrived to be near Liddy, who was assisting in the fields.
âI am glad to see you out of doors, Lydia,â he said pleasantly.
She simpered, and wondered in her heart why he should speak so frankly to her.
âI hope Mrs. Troy is quite well after her long absence,â he continued, in a manner expressing that the coldest-hearted neighbour could scarcely say less about her.
âShe is quite well, sir.â
âAnd cheerful, I suppose.â
âYes, cheerful.â
âFearful, did you say?â
âOh no. I merely said she was cheerful.â
âTells you all her affairs?â
âNo, sir.â
âSome of them?â
âYes, sir.â
âMrs. Troy puts much confidence in you, Lydia, and very wisely, perhaps.â
âShe do, sir. Iâve been with her all through her troubles, and was with her at the time of Mr. Troyâs going and all. And if she were to marry again I expect I should bide with her.â
âShe promises that you shallâ âquite natural,â said the strategic lover, throbbing throughout him at the presumption which Liddyâs words appeared to warrantâ âthat his darling had thought of re-marriage.
âNoâ âshe doesnât promise it exactly. I merely judge on my own account.â
âYes, yes, I understand. When she alludes to the possibility of marrying again, you concludeâ ââ
âShe never do allude to it, sir,â said Liddy, thinking how very stupid Mr. Boldwood was getting.
âOf course not,â he returned hastily, his hope falling again. âYou neednât take quite such long reaches with your rake, Lydiaâ âshort and quick ones are best. Well, perhaps, as she is absolute mistress again now, it is wise of her to resolve never to give up her freedom.â
âMy mistress did certainly once say, though not seriously, that she supposed she might marry again at the end of seven years from last year, if she cared to risk Mr. Troyâs coming back and claiming her.â
âAh, six years from the present time. Said that she might. She might marry at once in every reasonable personâs opinion, whatever the lawyers may say to the contrary.â
âHave you been to ask them?â said Liddy, innocently.
âNot I,â said Boldwood, growing red. âLiddy, you neednât stay here a minute later than you wish, so Mr. Oak says. I am now going on a little farther. Good afternoon.â
He went away vexed with himself, and ashamed of having for this one time in his life done anything which could be called underhand. Poor Boldwood had no more skill in finesse than a battering-ram, and he was uneasy with a sense of having made himself to appear stupid and, what was worse, mean. But he had, after all, lighted upon one fact by way of repayment. It was a singularly fresh and fascinating fact, and though not without its sadness it was pertinent and real. In little more than six years from this time Bathsheba might certainly marry him. There was something definite in that hope, for admitting that there might have been no deep thought in her words to Liddy about marriage, they showed at least her creed on the matter.
This pleasant notion was now continually in his mind. Six years were a long time, but how much shorter than never, the idea he had for so long been obliged to endure! Jacob had served twice seven years for Rachel: what were six for such a woman as this? He tried to like the notion of waiting for her better than that of winning her at once. Boldwood felt his love to be so deep and strong and eternal, that it was possible she had never yet known its full volume, and this patience in delay would afford him an opportunity of giving sweet proof on the point. He would annihilate the six years of his life as if they were minutesâ âso little did he value his time on earth beside her love. He would let her see, all those six years of intangible ethereal courtship, how little care he had for anything but as it bore upon the consummation.
Meanwhile the early and the late summer brought round the week in which Greenhill Fair was held. This fair was frequently attended by the folk of Weatherbury.
L The Sheep Fair; Troy Touches His Wifeâs HandGreenhill was the Nijni Novgorod of South Wessex; and the busiest, merriest, noisiest day of the whole statute number was the day of the sheep fair. This yearly gathering was upon the summit of a hill which retained in good preservation the remains of an ancient earthwork, consisting of a huge rampart and entrenchment of an oval form encircling the top of the hill, though somewhat broken down here and there. To each of the two chief openings on opposite sides a winding road ascended, and the level green space of ten or fifteen acres enclosed by the bank was the site of the fair. A few permanent erections dotted the spot, but the majority of visitors patronized canvas alone for resting and feeding under during the time of their sojourn here.
Shepherds who attended with their flocks from long distances started from home two or three days, or even a week, before the fair, driving their charges a few miles each dayâ ânot more than ten or twelveâ âand resting them at night in hired fields by the wayside at previously chosen points, where they fed, having fasted since morning. The shepherd
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