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At
first
Troy
resolved
to
take
no
notice
and
abide
by
circumstances
.
That
he
had
been
recognized
by
this
man
was
highly
probable
;
yet
there
was
room
for
a
doubt
.
Then
the
great
objection
he
had
felt
to
allowing
news
of
his
proximity
to
precede
him
to
Weatherbury
in
the
event
of
his
return
,
based
on
a
feeling
that
knowledge
of
his
present
occupation
would
discredit
him
still
further
in
his
wife
’
s
eyes
,
returned
in
full
force
.
Moreover
,
should
he
resolve
not
to
return
at
all
,
a
tale
of
his
being
alive
and
being
in
the
neighbourhood
would
be
awkward
;
and
he
was
anxious
to
acquire
a
knowledge
of
his
wife
’
s
temporal
affairs
before
deciding
which
to
do
.
In
this
dilemma
Troy
at
once
went
out
to
reconnoitre
.
It
occurred
to
him
that
to
find
Pennyways
,
and
make
a
friend
of
him
if
possible
,
would
be
a
very
wise
act
.
He
had
put
on
a
thick
beard
borrowed
from
the
establishment
,
and
in
this
he
wandered
about
the
fair
-
field
.
It
was
now
almost
dark
,
and
respectable
people
were
getting
their
carts
and
gigs
ready
to
go
home
.
The
largest
refreshment
booth
in
the
fair
was
provided
by
an
innkeeper
from
a
neighbouring
town
.
This
was
considered
an
unexceptionable
place
for
obtaining
the
necessary
food
and
rest
:
Host
Trencher
(
as
he
was
jauntily
called
by
the
local
newspaper
)
being
a
substantial
man
of
high
repute
for
catering
through
all
the
country
round
.
The
tent
was
divided
into
first
and
second
-
class
compartments
,
and
at
the
end
of
the
first
-
class
division
was
a
yet
further
enclosure
for
the
most
exclusive
,
fenced
off
from
the
body
of
the
tent
by
a
luncheon
-
bar
,
behind
which
the
host
himself
stood
bustling
about
in
white
apron
and
shirt
-
sleeves
,
and
looking
as
if
he
had
never
lived
anywhere
but
under
canvas
all
his
life
.
In
these
penetralia
were
chairs
and
a
table
,
which
,
on
candles
being
lighted
,
made
quite
a
cozy
and
luxurious
show
,
with
an
urn
,
plated
tea
and
coffee
pots
,
china
teacups
,
and
plum
cakes
.
Troy
stood
at
the
entrance
to
the
booth
,
where
a
gipsy
-
woman
was
frying
pancakes
over
a
little
fire
of
sticks
and
selling
them
at
a
penny
a
-
piece
,
and
looked
over
the
heads
of
the
people
within
.
He
could
see
nothing
of
Pennyways
,
but
he
soon
discerned
Bathsheba
through
an
opening
into
the
reserved
space
at
the
further
end
.
Troy
thereupon
retreated
,
went
round
the
tent
into
the
darkness
,
and
listened
.
He
could
hear
Bathsheba
’
s
voice
immediately
inside
the
canvas
;
she
was
conversing
with
a
man
.
A
warmth
overspread
his
face
:
surely
she
was
not
so
unprincipled
as
to
flirt
in
a
fair
!
He
wondered
if
,
then
,
she
reckoned
upon
his
death
as
an
absolute
certainty
.
To
get
at
the
root
of
the
matter
,
Troy
took
a
penknife
from
his
pocket
and
softly
made
two
little
cuts
crosswise
in
the
cloth
,
which
,
by
folding
back
the
corners
left
a
hole
the
size
of
a
wafer
.
Close
to
this
he
placed
his
face
,
withdrawing
it
again
in
a
movement
of
surprise
;
for
his
eye
had
been
within
twelve
inches
of
the
top
of
Bathsheba
’
s
head
.
It
was
too
near
to
be
convenient
.
He
made
another
hole
a
little
to
one
side
and
lower
down
,
in
a
shaded
place
beside
her
chair
,
from
which
it
was
easy
and
safe
to
survey
her
by
looking
horizontally
.
Troy
took
in
the
scene
completely
now
.
She
was
leaning
back
,
sipping
a
cup
of
tea
that
she
held
in
her
hand
,
and
the
owner
of
the
male
voice
was
Boldwood
,
who
had
apparently
just
brought
the
cup
to
her
,
Bathsheba
,
being
in
a
negligent
mood
,
leant
so
idly
against
the
canvas
that
it
was
pressed
to
the
shape
of
her
shoulder
,
and
she
was
,
in
fact
,
as
good
as
in
Troy
’
s
arms
;
and
he
was
obliged
to
keep
his
breast
carefully
backward
that
she
might
not
feel
its
warmth
through
the
cloth
as
he
gazed
in
.
Troy
found
unexpected
chords
of
feeling
to
be
stirred
again
within
him
as
they
had
been
stirred
earlier
in
the
day
.
She
was
handsome
as
ever
,
and
she
was
his
.
It
was
some
minutes
before
he
could
counteract
his
sudden
wish
to
go
in
,
and
claim
her
.
Then
he
thought
how
the
proud
girl
who
had
always
looked
down
upon
him
even
whilst
it
was
to
love
him
,
would
hate
him
on
discovering
him
to
be
a
strolling
player
.
Were
he
to
make
himself
known
,
that
chapter
of
his
life
must
at
all
risks
be
kept
for
ever
from
her
and
from
the
Weatherbury
people
,
or
his
name
would
be
a
byword
throughout
the
parish
.
He
would
be
nicknamed
"
Turpin
"
as
long
as
he
lived
.
Assuredly
before
he
could
claim
her
these
few
past
months
of
his
existence
must
be
entirely
blotted
out
.
"
Shall
I
get
you
another
cup
before
you
start
,
ma
’
am
?
"
said
Farmer
Boldwood
.
