Eighteen: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy: The Closure
Boldwood was tenant of Lower Farm, a remote quarter of Weatherbury. In social standing he was near to aristocracy. It was in a remote part away from the market-house. His house stood away from the road and the stables stood behind the house, and its lower portion being lost amid bushes of laurel. Inside, the air was thick and sweet with the heavy scent of cedar and warm hay. Horses stood in their stalls, their massive flanks shifting as they ate, a steady rythmic grinding of teeth on oats, one bay mare stamped a hoof, the dull thud echoing against the wooden floorboards. At far end, a young colt paced restlessly in his box, his shadow flickering in the dim light. The steady grind of the animals occasionally diversified by the rattle of a rope or stamp of a foot. The stable and its surroundings were the cloister and almonry of Boldwood. Here he paced up and down looking to the feeding of his animals. This way the forty year old man who had no sexual relationship with an...