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"
That
’
s
she
,
back
there
upon
the
pony
,
"
said
Maryann
;
"
wi
’
her
face
a
-
covered
up
in
that
black
cloth
with
holes
in
it
.
"
Oak
,
his
features
smudged
,
grimy
,
and
undiscoverable
from
the
smoke
and
heat
,
his
smock
-
frock
burnt
into
holes
and
dripping
with
water
,
the
ash
stem
of
his
sheep
-
crook
charred
six
inches
shorter
,
advanced
with
the
humility
stern
adversity
had
thrust
upon
him
up
to
the
slight
female
form
in
the
saddle
.
He
lifted
his
hat
with
respect
,
and
not
without
gallantry
:
stepping
close
to
her
hanging
feet
he
said
in
a
hesitating
voice
,
—
"
Do
you
happen
to
want
a
shepherd
,
ma
’
am
?
"
She
lifted
the
wool
veil
tied
round
her
face
,
and
looked
all
astonishment
.
Gabriel
and
his
cold
-
hearted
darling
,
Bathsheba
Everdene
,
were
face
to
face
.
Bathsheba
did
not
speak
,
and
he
mechanically
repeated
in
an
abashed
and
sad
voice
,
—
"
Do
you
want
a
shepherd
,
ma
’
am
?
"
Bathsheba
withdrew
into
the
shade
.
She
scarcely
knew
whether
most
to
be
amused
at
the
singularity
of
the
meeting
,
or
to
be
concerned
at
its
awkwardness
.
There
was
room
for
a
little
pity
,
also
for
a
very
little
exultation
:
the
former
at
his
position
,
the
latter
at
her
own
.
Embarrassed
she
was
not
,
and
she
remembered
Gabriel
’
s
declaration
of
love
to
her
at
Norcombe
only
to
think
she
had
nearly
forgotten
it
.
"
Yes
,
"
she
murmured
,
putting
on
an
air
of
dignity
,
and
turning
again
to
him
with
a
little
warmth
of
cheek
;
"
I
do
want
a
shepherd
.
But
—
"
"
He
’
s
the
very
man
,
ma
’
am
,
"
said
one
of
the
villagers
,
quietly
.
Conviction
breeds
conviction
.
"
Ay
,
that
’
a
is
,
"
said
a
second
,
decisively
.
