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Bathsheba did not speak, and he mechanically repeated in an abashed and sad voice, "Do you want a shepherd, ma'am?" Bathsheba withdrew into the shade. She scarcely knew whether most to be amused at the singularity of the meeting, or to be concerned at its awkwardness. There was room for a little pity, also for a very little exultation: the former at his position, the latter at her own.
"Myrtle is very lovely," Bathsheba answered, "but is n't she a little too flighty for one like your brother? Cyprian isn't more like other young men than Myrtle is like other young girls. I have thought sometimes I wondered whether out-of-the-way people and common ones do not get along best together. Does n't Cyprian want some more every-day kind of girl to keep him straight?
A mounted figure passed between her and the sky, and drew on towards the field of sheep, the rider turning his face in receding. Gabriel looked at her. It was a moment when a woman's eyes and tongue tell distinctly opposite tales. Bathsheba looked full of gratitude, and she said: "Oh, Gabriel, how could you serve me so unkindly!"
Boldwood's look was unanswerable. Seeing she turned a little aside, he said, "What, are you afraid of me?" "Why should you say that?" said Bathsheba. "I fancied you looked so," said he. "And it is most strange, because of its contrast with my feeling for you." She regained self-possession, fixed her eyes calmly, and waited. "You know what that feeling is," continued Boldwood, deliberately.
Bathsheba, when she learnt of this proposal-for Oak was obliged to consult her at first languidly objected. She considered that the two farms together were too extensive for the observation of one man.
What he would try to recognize was that the severe schooling she had been subjected to had made Bathsheba much more considerate than she had formerly been of the feelings of others, and he trusted that, should she be willing at any time in the future to marry any man at all, that man would be himself.
" "It wouldn't be necessary if you could wait a moment," and he unwound a cord from the little wheel. She withdrew her own hand, but, whether by accident or design, he touched it. Bathsheba was vexed; she hardly knew why. His unravelling went on, but it nevertheless seemed coming to no end. She looked at him again.
I ought to have said that the Union, in the form of four labouring men, will meet me when I gets to our churchyard gate, and take her and bury her according to the rites of the Board of Guardians, as by law ordained." "Dear me Casterbridge Union and is Fanny come to this?" said Bathsheba, musing. "I wish I had known of it sooner. I thought she was far away. How long has she lived there?"
"No, no," answered Rodin; "it is nothing. I am devoured by impatience. That is all." Pale and desolate, Bathsheba, the wife of Samuel, was standing at the door of the apartment she occupied with her husband, in the building next the street. As the Jew passed before her, he said, in Hebrew: "The curtains of the Hall of Mourning?" "Are closed." "And the iron casket?"
"Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be, the young man that has been well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to her ever since they were children almost?" "Yes, yes, I remember now. Oh dear! I have forgotten so many things, I should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you know anything about him, Bathsheba? Did n't somebody say he was very handsome?
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