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Bathsheba
watched
.
So
did
all
the
rest
.
Tall
cantered
along
the
bridle
-
path
through
Sixteen
Acres
,
Sheeplands
,
Middle
Field
,
The
Flats
,
Cappel
’
s
Piece
,
shrank
almost
to
a
point
,
crossed
the
bridge
,
and
ascended
from
the
valley
through
Springmead
and
Whitepits
on
the
other
side
.
The
cottage
to
which
Gabriel
had
retired
before
taking
his
final
departure
from
the
locality
was
visible
as
a
white
spot
on
the
opposite
hill
,
backed
by
blue
firs
.
Bathsheba
walked
up
and
down
.
The
men
entered
the
field
and
endeavoured
to
ease
the
anguish
of
the
dumb
creatures
by
rubbing
them
.
Nothing
availed
.
Bathsheba
continued
walking
.
The
horse
was
seen
descending
the
hill
,
and
the
wearisome
series
had
to
be
repeated
in
reverse
order
:
Whitepits
,
Springmead
,
Cappel
’
s
Piece
,
The
Flats
,
Middle
Field
,
Sheeplands
,
Sixteen
Acres
.
She
hoped
Tall
had
had
presence
of
mind
enough
to
give
the
mare
up
to
Gabriel
,
and
return
himself
on
foot
.
The
rider
neared
them
.
It
was
Tall
.
"
Oh
,
what
folly
!
"
said
Bathsheba
.
Gabriel
was
not
visible
anywhere
.
"
Perhaps
he
is
already
gone
!
"
she
said
.
Tall
came
into
the
inclosure
,
and
leapt
off
,
his
face
tragic
as
Morton
’
s
after
the
battle
of
Shrewsbury
.
"
Well
?
"
said
Bathsheba
,
unwilling
to
believe
that
her
verbal
lettre
-
de
-
cachet
could
possibly
have
miscarried
.
"
He
says
beggars
mustn
’
t
be
choosers
,
"
replied
Laban
.
"
What
!
"
said
the
young
farmer
,
opening
her
eyes
and
drawing
in
her
breath
for
an
outburst
.
Joseph
Poorgrass
retired
a
few
steps
behind
a
hurdle
.
"
He
says
he
shall
not
come
onless
you
request
en
to
come
civilly
and
in
a
proper
manner
,
as
becomes
any
’
ooman
begging
a
favour
.
"
