Nineteen: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy

Boldwood did eventually call upon her. But she was not at home. He had made a mistake. Like him she was a farmer. She goes to market, show them the samples, bargain over the price and sell them corn. He did not like the idea of women doing business. So he forgot it, or has been trying to forget it. Here she has no bailiff she is managing the whole farm. Her probable whereabouts is out of doors at this time of the year. On inquiring for her at her house they had told him that she was at sheep washing, and he went off to seek her there. 

He went on meditating along the path to the north of the meadow where the sheep washing pool lay. It was a circular basin of stone work in the meadow. Buttercup, daisy, reeds and sedge formed a palisade along its brink. To the north of the meadow were trees with thick foliage. Loud notes of cuckoos were resounding in the atmosphere. 

Boldwood went meditating down the slopes with his eyes on his boots, which the yellow pollen from the buttercups had bronzed artistically. A tributary of the main stream flowed through the basin of the pool. In times of overflow in the stream, it would replenish the pool with fresh water, through an inlet, the sides of which were protected by wall extending from the pool. On the opposite side of the inlet there was an outlet at below level, with shutter; and the water in the pool could be released.

Gabriel Oak, Jan Coggan, Mathew Moon, Joseph Poorgrass, Cainy Ball and several others were present, all dripping wet to the very roots of their hair. Bathsheba was standing by in her new riding-habit - the most elegant she had ever worn - the reins of her horse being looped over her arm. Flagons of cider were rolling about upon the green. The meek sheep were pushed into the pool by Jan Coggan and Mathew Moon, who stood by the lower hatch

immersed to their waists; then Gabriel who stood on the brink, thrust them as they swam along, with an instrument like a crutch, made for the purpose, and for assisting the exhausted animals when the the wool became saturated and they began to sink. They were then let out against the stream, and through the upper opening, all impurities thus going away below. Cainy Ball and Joseph were doing the latter process, and so they were wetter than others.

Boldwood came close and bade her goodmorning, but Bathsheba immediately withdrew, as if she did not notice him, and glided by the river. Boldwood followed her, and was within a stone's throw. She heard his footsteps on the grass, and was conscious that he was following her.

Bathsheba went farther among the high sedges, but Boldwood seemed determined, and pressed on till they were completely passed the bent of the river. Here, without being seen, they could hear the splash and shouts of the washers above.

"Miss Everdene!" said Boldwood 

She trembled, turned and said, "Good morning." Boldwood said everything when he addressed her. Bathsheba could understand the feel and tone of his voice. What she fancied as the rumble of wheels now turned to be reverberation of thunder.

"I feel -- almost  -- too much -- to think," he said with a solemn simplicity; "I have come to speak to you without preface. My life is not my own since I have beheld you clearly, Miss Everdene -- I came to make you an offer of marriage." 

Bathsheba tried to preserve an absolutely neutral countenance, and all the motion she made was that of closing lips which had previously been a little parted.

"I am now forty one years old," he went on. "I may have been called a confirmed bachelor, and I was a confirmed bachelor. I was never a husband, and I never thought of becoming one. But we all change, but my change came with seeing you. I am feeling more and more that my present way of living is bad in every respect. Beyond all I want you as my wife."

"I feel, Mr Boldwood, that I respect you much. But I do not feel I can accept your offer," stammered Bathsheba.

This return of dignity for dignity opened up the sluices of feeling that Boldwood had as yet kept closed.

"My life is a burden without you," he exclaimed in a low voice. "I want you to let me say I love you again and again!"

Bathsheba answered nothing, and the horse upon her arm seemed so impressed, that instead of cropping

the herbage it looked up.

Her silence encouraged Boldwood. I think and hope you care enough for me to listen to what I have to tell !" 

Hearing this Bathsheba wanted to ask why he thought so. But, the next instant her own prank came to her mind, and she was disarmed.

"I wish I could say courteous  flatteries to you." Boldwood continued in an easier tune, "and put my rugged feeling into a graceful shape; but I have neither power nor patience to learn such things. I want you for my wife -- all these I say to you because I had been lead to hope."

"The Valentine again," she said to herself, but not a word to him.

"If you can love me, say so, Miss Everdene. It not -- don't say no."

"Mr Boldwood, it is painful to have to say I am surprised, so that I don't know how to answer you with propriety and respect -- but am only just able to speak out my feeling; that I am afraid I can't marry you, much as I respect you. You are too dignified for you to suit me, sir." 

"But, Miss Everdene!"

" I -- I didn't -- I know I ought never to have dreamt of sending that valentine -- forgive me, sir -- it was a wanton thing which no woman with any self-respect should have done. If you only will pardon my thoughtlessness, I promise never to --"

"No, no, no. Don't say thoughtlessness!  I can't endure it. It was a sort of prophetic instinct. The beginning of a feel that you would like me. I wish I knew how to win you."

"I have not fallen in love with you, Mr Boldwood -- certainly I may say that."

She allowed a very small smile to creep for the first time over her serious face in saying this, and the white row of upper teeth and keenly cut lips. 

"But you will just think - if you can bear with me as a husband," persisted Boldwood "I fear I am too old for you, but believe me, I will take more care of you than would many a man of your own age.  I will protect and cherish you with all my strength -- I will indeed. You shall be free of household chores. And you shall be free of farm management. You shall have a pony-carriage of your own."

Bathsheba's young heart swelled with sympathy to the deep natured man.

"Don't say it. I cannot bear you feel so much, and me feel nothing. And I am afraid, they will notice us, Mr Boldwood. Will you let the matter rest now? I cannot think collectedly. I did not know you were going to say this to me. Oh, I am wicked to have made you suffer so!" She was fright as well as agitated at his vehemence.

"Say, then, that you don't absolutely refuse!"

"I can do nothing, I cannot answer."

"I can speak to you again on the subject?"

"Yes."

"I may think of you?"

"Yes, I suppose you may think of me."

"And hope to obtain you?" 

"No, do not hope! Let us go on." 

"I will call upon you again tomorrow?"

"No -- please not. Give me time."

"Yes -- I will give you any time," he said earnestly and gratefully. "I am happier now."

"No -- I beg you! Don't be happier if happiness only comes from my agreeing. Be neutral, Mr Boldwood!"

"I Will wait." He said.

And then she turned away. Boldwood dropped his eyes to the ground, and stood long like a man who did not know where he was.

The End of the Chapter