RECOGNITION -- A TIMID GIRL
BATHSHEBA withdrew into the shade. She scarcelyknew whether most to be amused at the singularity ofthe meeting, or to be concerned at its awkwardness.There was room for a little pity, also for a very littleexultation: the former at his position, the latter at herown. Embarrassed she was not, and she” rememberedGabriel's declaration of love to her at Norcombe onlyto 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.” saida second, decisively.”The man, truly!” said a third, with heartiness.””He's all there!” said number four, fervidly.”Then will you tell him to speak to the bailiff, saidBathsheba.All ”was practical again now. A summer eve andloneliness would have been necessary to give themeeting its proper fulness of romance.the palpitation within his breast at discovering that thisAshtoreth of strange report was only a modification ofVenus the well-known and admired, retired with him totalk over the necessary preliminaries of hiring.The fire before them wasted away. ”Men.” saidBathsheba, ” you shall take a little refreshment after thisextra work. Will you come to the house?””We could knock in a bit and a drop a good dealfreer, Miss, if so be ye'd send it to Warren's Malthouse,”replied the spokesman.Bathsheba then rode off into the darkness, and themen straggled on to the village in twos and threes -- Oakand the bailiff being left by the rick alone.”And now.” said the bailiff, finally, ”all is settled, Ithink, about your coming, and I am going home-along.Good-night to ye, shepherd.””Can you get me a lodging?” inquired Gabriel.”That I can't, indeed,” he said, moving past Oak asa Christian edges past an offertory-plate when he doesnot mean to contribute. ”If you follow on the road tillyou come to Warren's Malthouse, where they are allgone to have their snap of victuals, I daresay some of'em will tell you of a place. Good-night to ye, shepherd.”The bailiff who showed this nervous dread of lovinghis neighbour as himself, went up the hill, and Oakwalked on to the village, still astonished at the ren-counter with Bathsheba, glad of his nearness to her, andperplexed at the rapidity with which the unpractised girlof Norcombe had developed into the supervising and coolwoman here. But some women only require an emerg-ency to make them fit for one.Obliged, to some extent, to forgo dreaming in orderto find the way, he reached the churchyard, and passedround it under the wall where several ancient trees grew.There was a wide margin of grass along here, andGabriel's footsteps were deadened by its softness, evenat this indurating period of the year. When abreast ofa trunk which appeared to be the oldest of the old, hebecame aware that a figure was standing behind it.Gabriel did not pause in his walk, and in anothermoment he accidentally kicked a loose stone. The noisewas enough to disturb the motionless stranger, whostarted and assumed a careless position.It was a slim girl, rather thinly clad.”Good-night to you.” said Gabriel, heartily.”Good-night.” said the girl to Gabriel.The voice was unexpectedly attractive; it was ”thelow and dulcet note suggestive of romance,” common indescriptions, rare in experience.”I'll thank you to tell me if I'm in the way forWarren's Malthouse?” Gabriel resumed, primarily to gainthe information, indirectly to get more of the music.”Quite right. It's at the bottom of the hill. Anddo you know -- --” The girl hesitated and then wenton again. ”Do you know how late they keep openthe Buck's Head Inn?” She seemed” to be won byGabriel's heartiness, as Gabriel had been won by hermodulations.”I don't know where the Buck's Head is, or anythingabout it. Do you think of going there to-night?””Yes -- --” The woman again paused. There wasno necessity for any continuance of speech, and the factthat she did add more seemed to proceed from anunconscious desire to show unconcern by making aremark, which is noticeable in the ingenuous when theyare acting by stealth. ”You are not a Weatherbury man?”she said, timorously.”I am not. I am the new shepherd -- just arrived.””Only a shepherd -- and you seem almost a farmer byyour ways.””Only a shepherd.” Gabriel repeated, in a dull cadenceof finality. ”His thoughts were directed to the past, hiseyes to the feet of the girl; and for the first time hesaw lying there a bundle of some sort. She may haveperceived the direction of his face, for she saidcoaxingly, --”You won't say anything in the parish about havingseen me here, will you -- at least, not for a day or two?””I won't if you wish me not to.” said Oak.”Thank you, indeed.” the other replied.”I amrather poor, and I don't want people to know anythingabout me.” Then she was silent and shivered.”You ought to have a cloak on such a cold night,”Gabriel observed. ”I would advise 'ee to get indoors.””O no! Would you mind going on and leaving me?I thank you much for what you have told me.””I will go on.” he said; adding hesitatingly, -- ”Sinceyou are not very well off, perhaps you would accept thistrifle from me. It is only a shilling, but it is all I haveto spare.””Yes, I will take it.” said the stranger, gratefully.She extended her hand; Gabriel his. In feeling foreach other's palm in the gloom before the money couldbe passed, a minute incident occurred which told much.Gabriel's fingers alighted on the young woman's wrist.It was beating with a throb of tragic intensity. He hadfrequently felt the same quick, hard beat in the femoralartery of -- his lambs when overdriven. It suggested aconsumption too great of a vitality which, to judge fromher figure and stature, was already too little.”What is the matter?””Nothing.””But there is?””No, no, no! Let your having seen me be a secret!””Very well; I will. Good-night, again.””Good-night.”The young girl remained motionless by the tree, andGabriel descended into the village of Weatherbury, orLower Longpuddle as it was sometimes called. Hefancied that he had felt himself in the penumbra of avery deep sadness when touching that slight and fragilecreature. But wisdom lies in moderating mere impres-sions, and Gabriel endeavoured to think little of this.
CHAPTER VIII