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At the outset Henchard's hold by his only free hand, the right, was on the left side of Farfrae's collar, which he firmly grappled, the latter holding Henchard by his collar with the contrary hand.
Henchard's house was one of the best, faced with dull red-and-grey old brick. The front door was open, and, as in other houses, she could see through the passage to the end of the garden nearly a quarter of a mile off. Mr. Henchard was not in the house, but in the store-yard.
"I wouldna refuse if it is the wish of a respectable majority in the Council." "Very well, then, look upon yourself as elected. We have had older men long enough." When he was gone Farfrae said musingly, "See now how it's ourselves that are ruled by the Powers above us! We plan this, but we do that. If they want to make me Mayor I will stay, and Henchard must rave as he will."
"They are at Farfrae's affair in the West Walk," answered a Councilman who stood in the field with the Mayor. "A few, I suppose. But where are the body o 'em?" "All out of doors are there." "Then the more fools they!" Henchard walked away moodily.
These tones showed that, though under a long reign of self-control he had become Mayor and churchwarden and what not, there was still the same unruly volcanic stuff beneath the rind of Michael Henchard as when he had sold his wife at Weydon Fair. "Well, he's a friend of mine, and I'm a friend of his or if we are not, what are we?
She was plainly in a very coming-on disposition for marriage. But what else could a poor woman be who had given her time and her heart to him so thoughtlessly, at that former time, as to lose her credit by it? Probably conscience no less than affection had brought her here. On the whole he did not blame her. To feel that he would like to see Lucetta was with Henchard to start for her house.
In passing he looked up at her windows, but nothing of her was to be seen. Henchard as a Justice of the Peace may at first seem to be an even greater incongruity than Shallow and Silence themselves. But his rough and ready perceptions, his sledge-hammer directness, had often served him better than nice legal knowledge in despatching such simple business as fell to his hands in this Court.
In the arm-chair sat the broad-faced genial man who had called on Henchard on a memorable morning between one and two years before this time, and whom the latter had seen mount the coach and depart within half-an-hour of his arrival. It was Richard Newson. The meeting with the light-hearted father from whom she had been separated half-a-dozen years, as if by death, need hardly be detailed.
"Do you remember," said Henchard, as if it were the presence of the thought and not of the man which made him speak, "do you remember my story of that second woman who suffered for her thoughtless intimacy with me?" "I do," said Farfrae. "Do you remember my telling 'ee how it all began and how it ended? "Yes." "Well, I have offered to marry her now that I can; but she won't marry me.
But he paused for a moment, and their eyes met. Donald went up to him, for he saw in Henchard's look that he began to regret this. "Come," said Donald quietly, "a man o' your position should ken better, sir! It is tyrannical and no worthy of you." "'Tis not tyrannical!" murmured Henchard, like a sullen boy. "It is to make him remember!"
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