hange of direction, in words which Henchard had overheard, and set
out on his way. Farfrae had not directed his man to take the message
indoors, and Whittle had not been supposed to do so on his own
responsibility.

Now the anonymous letter was a well-intentioned but clumsy contrivance
of Longways and other of Farfrae's men to get him out of the way for
the evening, in order that the satirical mummery should fall flat, if it
were attempted. By giving open information they would have brought down
upon their heads the vengeance of those among their comrades who enjoyed
these boisterous old games; and therefore the plan of sending a letter
recommended itself by its indirectness.

For poor Lucetta they took no protective measure, believing with the
majority there was some truth in the scandal, which she would have to
bear as she best might.

It was about eight o'clock, and Lucetta was sitting in the drawing-room
alone. Night had set in for more than half an hour, but she had not had
the candles lighted, for when Farfrae was away she preferred waiting for
him by the firelight, and, if it were not too cold, keeping one of the
window-sashes a little way open that the sound of his wheels might reach
her ears early. She was leaning back in the chair, in a more hopeful
mood than she had enjoyed since her marriage. The day had been such
a success, and the temporary uneasiness which Henchard's show of
effrontery had wrought in her disappeared with the quiet disappearance
of Henchard himself under her husband's reproof. The floating evidences
of her absurd passion for him, and its consequences, had been destroyed,
and she really seemed to have no cause for fear.

The reverie in which these and other subjects mingled was disturbed by
a hubbub in the distance, that increased moment by moment. It did not
greatly surprise her, the afternoon having been given up to recreation
by a majority of the populace since the passage of the Royal equipages.
But her attention was at once riveted to the matter by the voice of a
maid-servant next door, who spoke from an upper window across the street
to some other maid even more elevated than she.

"Which way be they going now?" inquired the first with interest.

"I can't be sure for a moment," said the second, "because of the
malter's chimbley. O yes--I can see 'em. Well, I declare, I declare!

"What, what?" from the first, more enthusiastically.

"They are coming up Corn Street after all! Th