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Updated: June 21, 2025
Henchard paused for a moment, and answered un-easily, "Of course not, Elizabeth-Jane. But come this way." She moved on to another part of the field. "It is not much use inquiring here for anybody, I should think," the daughter observed, as she gazed round about. "People at fairs change like the leaves of trees; and I daresay you are the only one here to-day who was here all those years ago."
Henchard softly turned the handle, entered, and shading the light, approached the bedside. Gradually bringing the light from behind a screening curtain he held it in such a manner that it fell slantwise on her face without shining on her eyes. He steadfastly regarded her features. They were fair: his were dark. But this was an unimportant preliminary.
"I've not been always what I am now," continued Henchard, his firm deep voice being ever so little shaken. He was plainly under that strange influence which sometimes prompts men to confide to the new-found friend what they will not tell to the old. "I began life as a working hay-trusser, and when I was eighteen I married on the strength o' my calling. Would you think me a married man?"
The next time he came round in the other direction, his white waist-coat preceding his face, and his toes preceding his white waistcoat. That happy face Henchard's complete discomfiture lay in it. It was Newson's, who had indeed come and supplanted him. Henchard pushed to the door, and for some seconds made no other movement.
Henchard, who had been hurt at finding that Farfrae did not mean to put up with his temper any longer, was incensed beyond measure when he learnt what the young man had done as an alternative.
You are the only one who has been near me for weeks. And you will come no more." "Why do you say that? Indeed I will, if you would like to see me." Henchard signified dubiousness. Though he had so lately hoped that Elizabeth-Jane might again live in his house as daughter, he would not ask her to do so now.
They told me in Falmouth that Susan was dead. But my Elizabeth-Jane where is she?" "Dead likewise," said Henchard doggedly. "Surely you learnt that too?" The sailor started up, and took an enervated pace or two down the room. "Dead!" he said, in a low voice. "Then what's the use of my money to me?"
Her craving for correctness of procedure was, indeed, almost vicious. Owing to her early troubles with regard to her mother a semblance of irregularity had terrors for her which those whose names are safeguarded from suspicion know nothing of. "You ought to marry Mr. Henchard or nobody certainly not another man!" she went on with a quivering lip in whose movement two passions shared.
I have kept my oath; and though, Farfrae, I am sometimes that dry in the dog days that I could drink a quarter-barrel to the pitching, I think o' my oath, and touch no strong drink at all." "I'll no' press ye, sir I'll no' press ye. I respect your vow. "Well, I shall get a manager somewhere, no doubt," said Henchard, with strong feeling in his tones.
Elizabeth's strict nature would cause her for the first time to despise her stepfather, would root out his image as that of an arch-deceiver, and Newson would reign in her heart in his stead. But Newson did not see anything of her that morning. Having stood still awhile he at last retraced his steps, and Henchard felt like a condemned man who has a few hours' respite.
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