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 anyone would kill his time till the moon's rays stream through the cobwebbed windows or total darkness envelope the scene.

His square frame and gait showed more fully now than in the crowd and bustle of market-house. In his contemplative walk, foot met the floor simultaneously with heel and toe; and his reddish face bent downward to obscure his mouth and well rounded chin.

Boldwood's life was ordinary; but his nature was not. He was either hot or cold. If an emotion possessed him, it ruled him. Bathsheba was never aware of this. Had she known his mood she never would have ventured that prank upon him.

Boldwood came to his stable-door and looked forth across the level fields. Beyond the first enclosure was a hedge, and on other side of this was a meadow, which was a part of Bathsheba's farm. 

It was early spring. The wind, which had been blowing east for several weeks had changed direction to the southward, and the middle of spring had come. The dryads, a dark brown Eurasian butterflies with two prominent blue eyespots on each forewing, to be waking for the season.  After the frost, the vegetable world begins to move and swell. 

Boldwood, looking into distant meadows saw there three figures: Bathsheba Everdene, Gabriel Oak, and Cainy Ball.  When Bathsheba's figure fell upon the farmer's eyes, his face was illuminated and it spread over his entire physique. Boldwood realised that he was in love with Bathsheba. He decided to go across inquire boldly of her.

Boldwood was a lone wolf. No mother existed to absorb his devotion, no sister for his tenderness, no friends for his senses. He had no one to give vent to his feelings and seek an advice.

He approached the gate of the meadow. Beyond it the ground was melodious with ripples; and the sky was with larks; and the low bleating of flock mingling with both. Bathsheba and her men were engaged in fostering an ewe to a new born lamb who had lost its mother, which process was called "take", meaning the eve and the lamb accept each other.

Gabriel had skinned the dead lamb and tying the skin over the live lamb, while Bathsheba was holding open the pen into which the mother and foisted lamb were driven, where they would remain till the sheep conceived an affection for the young one. Bathsheba looked up at the completion of the manoeuvre, and saw Boldwood by the gate, where he was overhung by a willow tree in full bloom.  Gabriel to whom her face was very familiar, instantly discerned thereon the mark of some influence from without in the form of a keenly conscious reddening. He turned to look at Boldwood. 

Gabriel connected this with the letter Boldwood had shown him, and suspected her of some coquettish procedure began by that means, and carried on since, he knew not how.

Boldwood had understood that they were conscious of his presence.  Instead of entering the farm, he moved on, thinking that neither of them would recognise that he had originally intended to enter the field. He passed by with an overwhelming sensation of ignorance, shyness and doubt. Perhaps, in her manner there were signs that she wished to see him -- perhaps not -- he could not read a woman.

Bathsheba was not deceived into believe that Boldwood had walked by on business or in idleness.  She collected the probabilities of the case, and concluded that she herself was responsible for Boldwood's appearance there. It troubled her much to see what a great flame a little wildfire was likely to kindle.

She resolved that, never again by look or sign to interrupt the steady flow of this man's life. 

End of the Chapter