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Troy
started
visibly
at
the
sound
of
the
voice
;
yet
he
seemed
to
recover
presence
of
mind
sufficient
to
prevent
himself
from
giving
way
to
his
impulse
to
suddenly
turn
and
face
her
.
He
said
,
slowly
—
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
The
woman
,
on
hearing
him
speak
,
quickly
looked
up
,
examined
the
side
of
his
face
,
and
recognized
the
soldier
under
the
yeoman
’
s
garb
.
Her
face
was
drawn
into
an
expression
which
had
gladness
and
agony
both
among
its
elements
.
She
uttered
an
hysterical
cry
,
and
fell
down
.
"
Oh
,
poor
thing
!
"
exclaimed
Bathsheba
,
instantly
preparing
to
alight
.
"
Stay
where
you
are
,
and
attend
to
the
horse
!
"
said
Troy
,
peremptorily
throwing
her
the
reins
and
the
whip
.
"
Walk
the
horse
to
the
top
:
I
’
ll
see
to
the
woman
.
"
"
But
I
—
"
"
Do
you
hear
?
Clk
—
Poppet
!
"
The
horse
,
gig
,
and
Bathsheba
moved
on
.
"
How
on
earth
did
you
come
here
?
I
thought
you
were
miles
away
,
or
dead
!
Why
didn
’
t
you
write
to
me
?
"
said
Troy
to
the
woman
,
in
a
strangely
gentle
,
yet
hurried
voice
,
as
he
lifted
her
up
.
"
I
feared
to
.
"
