Page 30 of Far from the Madding Crowd

HOT CHEEKS AND TEARFUL EYES

HALF an hour later Bathsheba entered her own house.There burnt upon her face when she met the light ofthe candles the flush and excitement which were littleless than chronic with her now. The farewell words ofTroy, who had accompanied her to the very door, stilllingered in her ears. He had bidden her adieu for twodays, which were so he stated, to be spent at Bath invisiting some friends. He had also kissed her a secondtime.It is only fair to Bathsheba to explain here a littlefact which did not come to light till a long time after-wards: that Troy's presentation of himself so aptly atthe roadside this evening was not by any distinctly pre-concerted arrangement. He had hinted -- she hadforbidden; and it was only on the chance of his stillcoming that she had dismissed Oak, fearing a meetingbetween them just then.She now sank down into a chair, wild and perturbedby all these new and fevering sequences. Then shejumped up with a manner of decision, and fetched herdesk from a side table.In three minutes, without pause or modification, shehad written a letter to Boldwood, at his address beyondCasterbridge, saying mildly but firmly that she had wellconsidered the whole subject he had brought before herand kindly given her time to decide upon that herfinal decision was that she could not marry him. Shehad expressed to Oak an intention to wait till Boldwoodcame home before communicating to him her conclusivereply. But Bathsheba found that she could not wait.It was impossible to send this letter till the next day;yet to quell her uneasiness by getting it out of her hands,and so, as it were, setting the act in motion at once, shearose to take it to any one of the women who might bein the kitchen.She paused in the passage. A dialogue was goingon in the kitchen, and Bathsheba and Troy were thesubject of it.”If he marry her, she'll gie up farming.””Twill be a gallant life, but may bring some troublebetween the mirth -- so say I.””Well, I wish I had half such a husband.”Bathsheba had too much sense to mind seriouslywhat her servitors said about her; but too much womanlyredundance of speech to leave alone what was said tillit died the natural death of unminded things. Sheburst in upon them.”Who are you speaking of?” she asked.There was a pause before anybody replied. At lastLiddy said frankly,” What was passing was a bit of aword about yourself, miss.””I thought so! Maryann and Liddy and Temper-ance -- now I forbid you to suppose such things. Youknow I don't care the least for Mr. Troy -- not I. Every-body knows how much I hate him. -- Yes.” repeated thefroward young person, ”HATE him!””We know you do, miss.” said Liddy; ”and so do weall.””I hate him too.” said Maryann.”Maryann -- O you perjured woman! How can youspeak that wicked story!” said Bathsheba, excitedly.”You admired him from your heart only this morningin the very world, you did. Yes, Maryann, you know it!””Yes, miss, but so did you. He is a wild scampnow, and you are right to hate him.””He's NOT a wild scamp! How dare you to my face!I have no right to hate him, nor you, nor anybody.But I am a silly woman! What is it to me what he is?You know it is nothing. I don't care for him; I don”tmean to defend his good name, not I. Mind this, ifany of you say a word against him you'll be dismissedinstantly!”She flung down the letter and surged back into theparlour, with a big heart and tearful eyes, Liddy followingher.”O miss!” said mild Liddy, looking pitifully intoBathsheba's face. ”I am sorry we mistook you so!did think you cared for him; but I see you don't now.””Shut the door, Liddy.”Liddy closed the door, and went on: ” People alwayssay such foolery, miss. I'll make answer hencefor'ard,”Of course a lady like Miss Everdene can't love him;”I'll say it out in plain black and white.”Bathsheba burst out: ”O Liddy, are you such asimpleton? Can't you read riddles? Can't you see?Are you a woman yourself?”Liddy's clear eyes rounded with wonderment.”Yes; you must be a blind thing, Liddy!” she said,in reckless abandonment and grief. ”O, I love himto very distraction and misery and agony! Don't befrightened at me, though perhaps I am enough to frightenany innocent woman. Come closer -- closer.” She puther arms round Liddy's neck. ”I must let it out tosomebody; it is wearing me away! Don't you yet knowenough of me to see through that miserable denial ofmine? O God, what a lie it was! Heaven and myLove forgive me. And don't you know that a womanwho loves at all thinks nothing of perjury when it isbalanced against her love? There, go out of the room;I want to be quite alone.”Liddy went towards the door.”Liddy, come here. Solemnly swear to me that he'snot a fast man; that it is all lies they say about him!””Put, miss, how can I say he is not if -- -- ””You graceless girl! How can you have the cruelheart to repeat what they say? Unfeeling thing thatyou are.... But I'LL see if you or anybody else in thevillage, or town either, dare do such a thing!” Shestarted off, pacing from fireplace to door, and backagain.”No, miss. I don't -- I know it is not true!” saidLiddy, frightened at Bathsheba's unwonted vehemence.I suppose you only agree with me like that to pleaseme. But, Liddy, he CANNOT BE had, as is said. Do youhear? ””Yes, miss, yes.””And you don't believe he is?””I don't know what to say, miss.” said Liddy, be-ginning to cry. ”If I say No, you don”t believe me;and if I say Yes, you rage at me!””Say you don't believe it -- say you don't!””I don't believe him to be so had as they make out.””He is not had at all.... My poor life and heart,how weak I am!” she moaned, in a relaxed, desultoryway, heedless of Liddy's presence. ”O, how I wish Ihad never seen him! Loving is misery for womenalways. I shall never forgive God for making me awoman, and dearly am I beginning to pay for the honourof owning a pretty face.” She freshened and turned toLiddy suddenly. ”Mind this, Lydia Smallbury, if yourepeat anywhere a single word of what l have said toyou inside this closed door, I'll never trust you, or loveyou, or have you with me a moment longer -- not amoment!””I don't want to repeat anything.” said Liddy, withwomanly dignity of a diminutive order; ”but I don'twish to stay with you. And, if you please, I'll go at theend of the harvest, or this week, or to-day.... I don'tsee that I deserve to be put upon and stormed at fornothing!” concluded the small woman, bigly.”No, no, Liddy; you must stay!” said Bathsheba,dropping from haughtiness to entreaty with capriciousinconsequence. ”You must not notice my being in ataking just now. You are not as a servant -- you are acompanion to me. Dear, dear -- I don't know what Iam doing since this miserable ache o'! my heart hasweighted and worn upon me so! What shall I cometo! I suppose I shall get further and further intotroubles. I wonder sometimes if I am doomed to diein the Union. I am friendless enough, God knows!””I won't notice anything, nor will I leave you!” sobbedLiddy, impulsively putting up her lips to Bathsheba's,and kissing her.Then Bathsheba kissed Liddy, and all was smoothagain.”I don't often cry, do I, Lidd? but you have madetears come into my eyes.” she said, a smile shiningthrough the moisture. ”Try to think him a good man,won't you, dear Liddy?””I will, miss, indeed.””He is a sort of steady man in a wild way, you know.way. I am afraid that's how I am. And promise meto keep my secret -- do, Liddy! And do not let themknow that I have been crying about him, because it willbe dreadful for me, and no good to him, poor thing!”Death's head himselfshan't wring it from me, mistress,if I've a mind to keep anything; and I'll always be yourfriend.” replied Liddy, emphatically, at the same timebringing a few more tears into her own eyes, not fromany particular necessity, but from an artistic sense ofmaking herself in keeping with the remainder of thepicture, which seems to influence women at such times.”I think God likes us to be good friends, don't you?””Indeed I do.””And, dear miss, you won”t harry me and storm atme, will you? because you seem to swell so tall as alion then, and it frightens me! Do you know, I fancyyou would be a match for any man when you are in oneO' your takings.””Never! do you?” said Bathsheba, slightly laughing,though somewhat seriously alarmed by this Amazonianpicture of herself. ”I hope I am not a bold sort ofmaid -- mannish?” she continued with some anxiety.”O no, not mannish; but so almighty womanishthat 'tis getting on that way sometimes. Ah! miss.” shesaid, after having drawn her breath very sadly in andsent it very sadly out, ”I wish I had half your failingthat way. 'Tis a great protection to a poor maid inthese illegit'mate days!”



CHAPTER XXXI