Fourteen: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy: A Letter to Gabriel Oak.

The evening of St Valentine's day. At dusk Boldwood sat down to supper as usual by a beaming fire of aged logs. Upon the mantle-shelf before him was a time-piece on top of which was placed a spread eagle. Upon the eagle's wings was the letter sent by Bathsheba. His gaze lingered on the letter, as he sat eating and drinking, and he fancied the words thereon, although they were out of his sight. 

"Marry me" 

Since the receipt of the missive in the morning his peaceful existence had been spreading into an abnormal distortion in the particular direction of an ideal passion. 

When Boldwood went to bed, he placed the valentine in the corner of the looking glass. He was conscious of its presence even when his back was turned upon it. It was first time in his life that such an event occurred. Some woman's hand had travelled softly over the paper bearing his name. The unknown woman's eyes had watched every curve as she wrote it. She had imagined him the while. What had been her expression when she wrote it? What might she be doing at this hour of the night? Whenever he closed his eyes she took a mysty form. When awoke the letter stood before him. 

Boldwood looked at red seal again, to discover the hand behind it. "Marry me."  The words stole away his sleep. The dawn drew on. He dressed himself, descended the stairs, went out towards the gate of a field to the east, leaning over which he paused and looked around. 

It was a usual slow sunrise. The sky was cloudy. Snow covered the fields and the sky. A half-mulled noise of light wheels interrupted him. He turned back into the road. It was the mail cart, a light two-wheeler. The driver held out a letter. Boldwood seized it and opened it, expecting another anonymous one. 

"I don't think it is for you, sir," the man said when he saw Boldwood's action, "though there is no name, I think it is for your shepherd." 

Boldwood looked at the address:-

To the New Shepherd, Weatherbury Farm, Casterbridge.

"Oh what a mistake," said Boldwood, "It is not mine, nor is it for my shepherd. It's for Miss Everdene's. You had better take it to him. Gabriel Oak, that's his name. And say I opened it in mistake." 

At this moment, on the ridge, up against the blazing sky, a figure was visible, like a black snuff in the midst of a candle-flame. It moved and began to bustle about vigorously from place to place, carrying square skeleton masses. A small figure in all forces followed him. They were Gabriel and his dog George.

"Wait," said Boldwood. "He is the man on the hill. I will take the letter myself to him."

Gabriel descended the hill towards the right. At a distance Warren's Malthouse was seen, to which Gabriel was moving. Boldwood followed him at a distance, and walked towards Warren's Malthouse.

End of the Chapter