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Updated: May 21, 2025
He would have preferred not to see her; but deeming that there could be no great harm in acquiescing thus far, he went at dusk and stood opposite the coach-office. The evening was chilly, and the coach was late. Henchard crossed over to it while the horses were being changed; but there was no Lucetta inside or out.
If Henchard had only waited long enough he might at least have avoided loss though he had not made a profit. But the momentum of his character knew no patience. At this turn of the scales he remained silent. The movements of his mind seemed to tend to the thought that some power was working against him.
Lucetta had been borne along the churchyard path; Casterbridge had for the last time turned its regard upon her, before proceeding to its work as if she had never lived. But Elizabeth remained undisturbed in the belief of her relationship to Henchard, and now shared his home. Perhaps, after all, Newson was gone for ever.
Henchard. He is not how I thought he would be he overpowers me! I don't wish to see him any more." "But wait a little time and consider." Elizabeth-Jane had never been so much interested in anything in her life as in their present position, partly from the natural elation she felt at discovering herself akin to a coach; and she gazed again at the scene.
Whatever Servant David were thinking about when he made a Psalm that nobody can sing without disgracing himself, I can't fathom! Now then, the Fourth Psalm, to Samuel Wakely's tune, as improved by me." "'Od seize your sauce I tell ye to sing the Hundred-and-Ninth to Wiltshire, and sing it you shall!" roared Henchard.
Meanwhile the great corn and hay traffic conducted by Henchard throve under the management of Donald Farfrae as it had never thriven before. It had formerly moved in jolts; now it went on oiled casters. The old crude viva voce system of Henchard, in which everything depended upon his memory, and bargains were made by the tongue alone, was swept away.
She moved on to the bottom of Corn Street, and, knowing his time well, waited only a few minutes before she heard the familiar bang of his door, and then his quick walk towards her. She met him at the point where the last tree of the engirding avenue flanked the last house in the street. He could hardly discern her till, glancing inquiringly, he said, "What Miss Henchard and are ye up so airly?"
"No, no," he said gruffly; "we should quarrel." "You should hae a part to yourself," said Farfrae; "and nobody to interfere wi' you. It will be a deal healthier than down there by the river where you live now." Still Henchard refused. "You don't know what you ask," he said. "However, I can do no less than thank 'ee."
It resulted in his significantly saying every now and then, in tones of recklessness, "Only a fortnight more!" "Only a dozen days!" and so forth, lessening his figures day by day. "Why d'ye say only a dozen days?" asked Solomon Longways as he worked beside Henchard in the granary weighing oats. "Because in twelve days I shall be released from my oath." "What oath?"
Every word cost her twice its length of pain. And she could see that Farfrae was still incredulous. Henchard, a poor man in his employ, was not to Farfrae's view the Henchard who had ruled him. Yet he was not only the same man, but that man with his sinister qualities, formerly latent, quickened into life by his buffetings.
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