ng that Lucetta had not as yet settled in.

He was in this interested stage of the inquiry when he witnessed
Elizabeth-Jane's departure the next day. On hearing her announce the
address there suddenly took possession of him the strange thought that
Lucetta and Miss Templeman were one and the same person, for he could
recall that in her season of intimacy with him the name of the rich
relative whom he had deemed somewhat a mythical personage had been given
as Templeman. Though he was not a fortune-hunter, the possibility
that Lucetta had been sublimed into a lady of means by some munificent
testament on the part of this relative lent a charm to her image which
it might not otherwise have acquired. He was getting on towards the dead
level of middle age, when material things increasingly possess the mind.

But Henchard was not left long in suspense. Lucetta was rather addicted
to scribbling, as had been shown by the torrent of letters after the
fiasco in their marriage arrangements, and hardly had Elizabeth gone
away when another note came to the Mayor's house from High-Place Hall.

"I am in residence," she said, "and comfortable, though getting here has
been a wearisome undertaking. You probably know what I am going to tell
you, or do you not? My good Aunt Templeman, the banker's widow, whose
very existence you used to doubt, much more her affluence, has lately
died, and bequeathed some of her property to me. I will not enter into
details except to say that I have taken her name--as a means of escape
from mine, and its wrongs.

"I am now my own mistress, and have chosen to reside in Casterbridge--to
be tenant of High-Place Hall, that at least you may be put to no trouble
if you wish to see me. My first intention was to keep you in ignorance
of the changes in my life till you should meet me in the street; but I
have thought better of this.

"You probably are aware of my arrangement with your daughter, and have
doubtless laughed at the--what shall I call it?--practical joke (in all
affection) of my getting her to live with me. But my first meeting with
her was purely an accident. Do you see, Michael, partly why I have done
it?--why, to give you an excuse for coming here as if to visit HER, and
thus to form my acquaintance naturally. She is a dear, good girl, and
she thinks you have treated her with undue severity. You may have done
so in your haste, but not deliberately, I am sure. As the result has
been to bring her