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First
dead
,
as
if
on
turf
it
trode
,
Then
,
clattering
on
the
village
road
In
other
pace
than
forth
he
yode
.
"
We
shall
soon
know
now
,
one
way
or
other
.
"
said
Coggan
,
and
they
all
stepped
down
from
the
bank
on
which
they
had
been
standing
into
the
road
,
and
the
rider
pranced
into
the
midst
of
them
.
"
Is
that
you
,
Laban
?
"
said
Gabriel
.
"
Yes
—
’
tis
come
.
He
’
s
not
to
die
.
’
Tis
confinement
during
Her
Majesty
’
s
pleasure
.
"
"
Hurrah
!
"
said
Coggan
,
with
a
swelling
heart
.
"
God
’
s
above
the
devil
yet
!
"
Bathsheba
revived
with
the
spring
.
The
utter
prostration
that
had
followed
the
low
fever
from
which
she
had
suffered
diminished
perceptibly
when
all
uncertainty
upon
every
subject
had
come
to
an
end
.
But
she
remained
alone
now
for
the
greater
part
of
her
time
,
and
stayed
in
the
house
,
or
at
furthest
went
into
the
garden
.
She
shunned
every
one
,
even
Liddy
,
and
could
be
brought
to
make
no
confidences
,
and
to
ask
for
no
sympathy
.
As
the
summer
drew
on
she
passed
more
of
her
time
in
the
open
air
,
and
began
to
examine
into
farming
matters
from
sheer
necessity
,
though
she
never
rode
out
or
personally
superintended
as
at
former
times
.
One
Friday
evening
in
August
she
walked
a
little
way
along
the
road
and
entered
the
village
for
the
first
time
since
the
sombre
event
of
the
preceding
Christmas
.
None
of
the
old
colour
had
as
yet
come
to
her
cheek
,
and
its
absolute
paleness
was
heightened
by
the
jet
black
of
her
gown
,
till
it
appeared
preternatural
.
When
she
reached
a
little
shop
at
the
other
end
of
the
place
,
which
stood
nearly
opposite
to
the
churchyard
,
Bathsheba
heard
singing
inside
the
church
,
and
she
knew
that
the
singers
were
practising
.
She
crossed
the
road
,
opened
the
gate
,
and
entered
the
graveyard
,
the
high
sills
of
the
church
windows
effectually
screening
her
from
the
eyes
of
those
gathered
within
.
Her
stealthy
walk
was
to
the
nook
wherein
Troy
had
worked
at
planting
flowers
upon
Fanny
Robin
’
s
grave
,
and
she
came
to
the
marble
tombstone
.
