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She
regained
self
-
possession
,
fixed
her
eyes
calmly
,
and
waited
.
"
You
know
what
that
feeling
is
,
"
continued
Boldwood
,
deliberately
.
"
A
thing
strong
as
death
.
No
dismissal
by
a
hasty
letter
affects
that
.
"
"
I
wish
you
did
not
feel
so
strongly
about
me
,
"
she
murmured
.
"
It
is
generous
of
you
,
and
more
than
I
deserve
,
but
I
must
not
hear
it
now
.
"
"
Hear
it
?
What
do
you
think
I
have
to
say
,
then
?
I
am
not
to
marry
you
,
and
that
’
s
enough
.
Your
letter
was
excellently
plain
.
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
awkward
position
.
She
confusedly
said
,
"
Good
evening
,
"
and
was
moving
on
.
Boldwood
walked
up
to
her
heavily
and
dully
.
"
Bathsheba
—
darling
—
is
it
final
indeed
?
"
"
Indeed
it
is
.
"
"
Oh
,
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
!
Still
,
she
is
you
—
she
is
you
.
"
Bathsheba
commanded
herself
well
.
But
she
could
hardly
get
a
clear
voice
for
what
came
instinctively
to
her
lips
:
"
There
is
little
honour
to
the
woman
in
that
speech
.
"
It
was
only
whispered
,
for
something
unutterably
mournful
no
less
than
distressing
in
this
spectacle
of
a
man
showing
himself
to
be
so
entirely
the
vane
of
a
passion
enervated
the
feminine
instinct
for
punctilios
.
