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It
was
a
ploughboy
.
Presently
he
came
opposite
,
and
she
believed
from
his
voice
that
he
was
one
of
the
boys
on
her
own
farm
.
He
was
followed
by
a
shambling
tramp
of
heavy
feet
,
and
looking
through
the
ferns
Bathsheba
could
just
discern
in
the
wan
light
of
daybreak
a
team
of
her
own
horses
.
They
stopped
to
drink
at
a
pond
on
the
other
side
of
the
way
.
She
watched
them
flouncing
into
the
pool
,
drinking
,
tossing
up
their
heads
,
drinking
again
,
the
water
dribbling
from
their
lips
in
silver
threads
.
There
was
another
flounce
,
and
they
came
out
of
the
pond
,
and
turned
back
again
towards
the
farm
.
She
looked
further
around
.
Day
was
just
dawning
,
and
beside
its
cool
air
and
colours
her
heated
actions
and
resolves
of
the
night
stood
out
in
lurid
contrast
.
She
perceived
that
in
her
lap
,
and
clinging
to
her
hair
,
were
red
and
yellow
leaves
which
had
come
down
from
the
tree
and
settled
silently
upon
her
during
her
partial
sleep
.
Bathsheba
shook
her
dress
to
get
rid
of
them
,
when
multitudes
of
the
same
family
lying
round
about
her
rose
and
fluttered
away
in
the
breeze
thus
created
,
"
like
ghosts
from
an
enchanter
fleeing
.
"
There
was
an
opening
towards
the
east
,
and
the
glow
from
the
as
yet
unrisen
sun
attracted
her
eyes
thither
.
From
her
feet
,
and
between
the
beautiful
yellowing
ferns
with
their
feathery
arms
,
the
ground
sloped
downwards
to
a
hollow
,
in
which
was
a
species
of
swamp
,
dotted
with
fungi
.
A
morning
mist
hung
over
it
now
—
a
fulsome
yet
magnificent
silvery
veil
,
full
of
light
from
the
sun
,
yet
semi
-
opaque
—
the
hedge
behind
it
being
in
some
measure
hidden
by
its
hazy
luminousness
.
Up
the
sides
of
this
depression
grew
sheaves
of
the
common
rush
,
and
here
and
there
a
peculiar
species
of
flag
,
the
blades
of
which
glistened
in
the
emerging
sun
,
like
scythes
.
But
the
general
aspect
of
the
swamp
was
malignant
.
From
its
moist
and
poisonous
coat
seemed
to
be
exhaled
the
essences
of
evil
things
in
the
earth
,
and
in
the
waters
under
the
earth
.
The
fungi
grew
in
all
manner
of
positions
from
rotting
leaves
and
tree
stumps
,
some
exhibiting
to
her
listless
gaze
their
clammy
tops
,
others
their
oozing
gills
.
Some
were
marked
with
great
splotches
,
red
as
arterial
blood
,
others
were
saffron
yellow
,
and
others
tall
and
attenuated
,
with
stems
like
macaroni
.
Some
were
leathery
and
of
richest
browns
.
The
hollow
seemed
a
nursery
of
pestilences
small
and
great
,
in
the
immediate
neighbourhood
of
comfort
and
health
,
and
Bathsheba
arose
with
a
tremor
at
the
thought
of
having
passed
the
night
on
the
brink
of
so
dismal
a
place
.
There
were
now
other
footsteps
to
be
heard
along
the
road
.
Bathsheba
’
s
nerves
were
still
unstrung
:
she
crouched
down
out
of
sight
again
,
and
the
pedestrian
came
into
view
.
He
was
a
schoolboy
,
with
a
bag
slung
over
his
shoulder
containing
his
dinner
,
and
a
book
in
his
hand
.
He
paused
by
the
gate
,
and
,
without
looking
up
,
continued
murmuring
words
in
tones
quite
loud
enough
to
reach
her
ears
.
"
’
O
Lord
,
O
Lord
,
O
Lord
,
O
Lord
,
O
Lord
’
:
—
that
I
know
out
o
’
book
.
’
Give
us
,
give
us
,
give
us
,
give
us
,
give
us
’
:
—
that
I
know
.
’
Grace
that
,
grace
that
,
grace
that
,
grace
that
’
:
—
that
I
know
.
"
Other
words
followed
to
the
same
effect
.
The
boy
was
of
the
dunce
class
apparently
;
the
book
was
a
psalter
,
and
this
was
his
way
of
learning
the
collect
.
In
the
worst
attacks
of
trouble
there
appears
to
be
always
a
superficial
film
of
consciousness
which
is
left
disengaged
and
open
to
the
notice
of
trifles
,
and
Bathsheba
was
faintly
amused
at
the
boy
’
s
method
,
till
he
too
passed
on
.
By
this
time
stupor
had
given
place
to
anxiety
,
and
anxiety
began
to
make
room
for
hunger
and
thirst
.
A
form
now
appeared
upon
the
rise
on
the
other
side
of
the
swamp
,
half
-
hidden
by
the
mist
,
and
came
towards
Bathsheba
.
The
woman
—
for
it
was
a
woman
—
approached
with
her
face
askance
,
as
if
looking
earnestly
on
all
sides
of
her
.
When
she
got
a
little
further
round
to
the
left
,
and
drew
nearer
,
Bathsheba
could
see
the
newcomer
’
s
profile
against
the
sunny
sky
,
and
knew
the
wavy
sweep
from
forehead
to
chin
,
with
neither
angle
nor
decisive
line
anywhere
about
it
,
to
be
the
familiar
contour
of
Liddy
Smallbury
.
Bathsheba
’
s
heart
bounded
with
gratitude
in
the
thought
that
she
was
not
altogether
deserted
,
and
she
jumped
up
.
"
Oh
,
Liddy
!
"
she
said
,
or
attempted
to
say
;
but
the
words
had
only
been
framed
by
her
lips
;
there
came
no
sound
.
She
had
lost
her
voice
by
exposure
to
the
clogged
atmosphere
all
these
hours
of
night
.
