Thirty Three: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy - In The Sun: A Harbinger
A week passed and there was no tidings of Bathsheba. Nor was there any explanation of her Gilpin's Rig . Then a note came for Maryann, stating that the business which had called her mistress to Bath still detained her there; but she hoped to return in the course of another week. Another week passed. The oat-harvest began, and all the men were in the field under monochromatic Lammas sky amid the trembling air and short shadows of noon. Indoors nothing was to be heard save the droning of blue-bottle flies; out of doors the whetting of scythes and the hiss of tressy oat-ears rubbing together as their perpendicular stalks of amber-yellow fell heavily to each swath. Every drop of moisture in the form of cider was raining as perspiration from their heads and cheeks. Drought was everywhere else. They withdrew for a while into the shade of a tree in the fence. Coggan saw a figure in blue coat and brass buttons running to them across the fiel...