Fifty Three: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy: Concurritur Horaemomento
Outside the front of Boldwood's house. A group of men stood in the dark, their faces turned towards the door. It occasionally opened and closed again for the passage of guests or servants, a golden rod of light striping the gravel for the moment, and vanishing again, leaving nothing outside but the glow worm shine of the pale lamp amid the evergreens over the door. "He was seen in Casterbridge this afternoon, so the boy said," whispered one of them. "And I for one believe it. His body was never found, you know." "A strange story." "You may depend upon it, that she knows nothing." "Not a word." "Perhaps he doesn't mean that she shall," said another man. "If he's alive, and here in the neighborhood, he means mischief," said the first. "Poor girl, I do pity her. He'll drag her to the dogs." "Oh, no, he'll settle down quiet enough," said one disposed to take a more hopefu...