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Updated: June 7, 2025
He'll propose to- morrow. She saw now to her dismay what James Bellston had read as encouragement. 'He has mistaken me altogether, she said. 'I had no idea of such a thing. 'What, you won't have him? 'Indeed, I cannot! 'Chrissy, said Mr. Everard with emphasis, 'there's noobody whom I should so like you to marry as that young man. He's a thoroughly clever fellow, and fairly well provided for.
To travel and disappear and not be heard of for many years would be a far more independent stroke, and it would leave her entirely unfettered. Perhaps he might rival in this kind the accomplished Mr. Bellston, of whose journeyings he had heard so much.
Conjecture was directed to the question how Bellston had got there; and conjecture alone could give an explanation.
She said Sunday afternoon, and it was now only Saturday morning. He wished she had said to-day; that short revival of her image had vitalized to sudden heat feelings that had almost been stilled. Whatever she might have to explain as to her position and it was awkwardly narrowed, no doubt he could not give her up. Miss Everard or Mrs. Bellston, what mattered it? she was the same Christine.
Bellston was a self-assured young man, not particularly good-looking, with more colour in his skin than even Nicholas had. He had flushed a little in attracting her notice, though the flush had nothing of nervousness in it the air with which it was accompanied making it curiously suggestive of a flush of anger; and even when he laughed it was difficult to banish that fancy.
The voice was not the voice of Nicholas, and the intelligence was strange. 'I I don't understand. Mr. Bellston? she faintly replied. 'Yes, ma'am. A gentleman a stranger to me gave me these things at Casterbridge station to bring on here, and told me to say that Mr. Bellston had arrived there, and is detained for half-an-hour, but will be here in the course of the evening. She sank into a chair.
She had spoken from her conscience and understanding, and not to please her father. As a reflecting woman she believed that such a marriage would be a wise one. In great things Nicholas was closest to her nature; in little things Bellston seemed immeasurably nearer than Nic; and life was made up of little things.
When they re-entered the hall, Bellston entreated her to come with him up a spiral stair in the thickness of the wall, leading to a passage and gallery whence they could look down upon the scene below.
Seeing from the glimmer of a light in the church that somebody was there cleaning for Sunday he entered, and looked round upon the walls as well as he could. But there was no monument to her husband, though one had been erected to the Squire. Nicholas addressed the young man who was sweeping. 'I don't see any monument or tomb to the late Mr. Bellston?
But he forgave her for marrying Bellston; what could he expect after fifteen years? He slept at Roy-Town that night, and in the morning there was a short note from her, repeating more emphatically her statement of the previous evening that she wished to inform him clearly of her circumstances, and to calmly consider with him the position in which she was placed.
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