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Updated: June 12, 2025
Boldwood read the letter and looked grieved. "Fanny poor Fanny! the end she is so confident of has not yet come, she should remember and may never come. I see she gives no address." "What sort of a man is this Sergeant Troy?" said Gabriel. "H'm I'm afraid not one to build much hope upon in such a case as this." the farmer murmured, "though he's a clever fellow, and up to everything.
Now, Boldwood, yours is the ridiculous fate which always attends interference between a man and his wife. And another word. Bad as I am, I am not such a villain as to make the marriage or misery of any woman a matter of huckster and sale. Fanny has long ago left me. I don't know where she is. I have searched everywhere. Another word yet.
But Bathsheba, though she could feel, was not much given to futile dreaming, and her musings under this head were short and entirely confined to the times when Troy's neglect was more than ordinarily evident. She saw coming up the road a man like Mr. Boldwood. It was Mr. Boldwood. Bathsheba blushed painfully, and watched.
Not till he had ridden more than a mile did it occur to him that he would have done better by sending some other man on this errand, remaining himself in the house. What had become of Boldwood? He should have been looked after. Was he mad had there been a quarrel? Then how had Troy got there? Where had he come from?
She took out her purse and was insisting to Boldwood on paying for her tea for herself, when at this moment Pennyways entered the tent. Troy trembled: here was his scheme for respectability endangered at once. He was about to leave his hole of espial, attempt to follow Pennyways, and find out if the ex-bailiff had recognized him, when he was arrested by the conversation, and found he was too late.
I want you to hear nothing not I." Bathsheba was unable to direct her will into any definite groove for freeing herself from this fearfully and was moving on. Boldwood walked up to her heavily and dully. "Bathsheba darling is it final indeed?" "Indeed it is." "O, Bathsheba have pity upon me!" Boldwood burst out. "God's sake, yes I am come to that low, lowest stage to ask a woman for pity!
Not a single one of them had turned his face to the ricks, or apparently bestowed one thought upon their condition. Soon Oak too went homeward, by a different route from theirs. In front of him against the wet glazed surface of the lane he saw a person walking yet more slowly than himself under an umbrella. The man turned and plainly started; he was Boldwood.
So Captain Boldwood got hold of a small scow, which he has sent in to shore, towed by one of our boats, to take you off. We'll just about meet it if we hurry." By this time the unusual sight of a horse in that place had aroused much curiosity among the guests of the inn, who came out to see what was going on.
"Have you been to ask them?" said Liddy, innocently. "Not I," said Boldwood, growing red. "Liddy, you needn't stay here a minute later than you wish, so Mr. Oak says. I am now going on a little farther. Good-afternoon." He went away vexed with himself, and ashamed of having for this one time in his life done anything which could be called underhand.
Nobody knew entirely; for though it was possible to form guesses concerning his wild capa- bilities from old floodmarks faintly visible, he had never been seen at the high tides which caused them. Farmer Boldwood came to the stable-door and looked forth across the level fields. Beyond the first enclosure was a hedge, and on the other side of this a meadow belonging to Bathsheba's farm.
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