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"
Oh
,
oh
,
that
’
s
his
answer
!
Where
does
he
get
his
airs
?
Who
am
I
,
then
,
to
be
treated
like
that
?
Shall
I
beg
to
a
man
who
has
begged
to
me
?
"
Another
of
the
flock
sprang
into
the
air
,
and
fell
dead
.
The
men
looked
grave
,
as
if
they
suppressed
opinion
.
Bathsheba
turned
aside
,
her
eyes
full
of
tears
.
The
strait
she
was
in
through
pride
and
shrewishness
could
not
be
disguised
longer
:
she
burst
out
crying
bitterly
;
they
all
saw
it
;
and
she
attempted
no
further
concealment
.
"
I
wouldn
’
t
cry
about
it
,
miss
,
"
said
William
Smallbury
,
compassionately
.
"
Why
not
ask
him
softer
like
?
I
’
m
sure
he
’
d
come
then
.
Gable
is
a
true
man
in
that
way
.
"
Bathsheba
checked
her
grief
and
wiped
her
eyes
.
"
Oh
,
it
is
a
wicked
cruelty
to
me
—
it
is
—
it
is
!
"
she
murmured
.
"
And
he
drives
me
to
do
what
I
wouldn
’
t
;
yes
,
he
does
!
—
Tall
,
come
indoors
.
"
After
this
collapse
,
not
very
dignified
for
the
head
of
an
establishment
,
she
went
into
the
house
,
Tall
at
her
heels
.
Here
she
sat
down
and
hastily
scribbled
a
note
between
the
small
convulsive
sobs
of
convalescence
which
follow
a
fit
of
crying
as
a
ground
-
swell
follows
a
storm
.
The
note
was
none
the
less
polite
for
being
written
in
a
hurry
.
She
held
it
at
a
distance
,
was
about
to
fold
it
,
then
added
these
words
at
the
bottom
:
—
"
Do
not
desert
me
,
Gabriel
!
"
She
looked
a
little
redder
in
refolding
it
,
and
closed
her
lips
,
as
if
thereby
to
suspend
till
too
late
the
action
of
conscience
in
examining
whether
such
strategy
were
justifiable
.
The
note
was
despatched
as
the
message
had
been
,
and
Bathsheba
waited
indoors
for
the
result
.
