d nearly all the rest of Bathsheba's
men. Gabriel's anxiety was great that Boldwood might be saved, even
though in his conscience he felt that he ought to die; for there had
been qualities in the farmer which Oak loved. At last, when they all
were weary the tramp of a horse was heard in the distance--

First dead, as if on turf it trode,
Then, clattering on the village road
In other pace than forth he yode.

"We shall soon know now, one way or other." said Coggan, and they all
stepped down from the bank on which they had been standing into the
road, and the rider pranced into the midst of them.

"Is that you, Laban?" said Gabriel.

"Yes--'tis come. He's not to die. 'Tis confinement during Her
Majesty's pleasure."

"Hurrah!" said Coggan, with a swelling heart. "God's above the devil
yet!"

CHAPTER LVI

BEAUTY IN LONELINESS--AFTER ALL

Bathsheba revived with the spring. The utter prostration that
had followed the low fever from which she had suffered diminished
perceptibly when all uncertainty upon every subject had come to
an end.

But she remained alone now for the greater part of her time, and
stayed in the house, or at furthest went into the garden. She
shunned every one, even Liddy, and could be brought to make no
confidences, and to ask for no sympathy.

As the summer drew on she passed more of her time in the open air,
and began to examine into farming matters from sheer necessity,
though she never rode out or personally superintended as at former
times. One Friday evening in August she walked a little way along
the road and entered the village for the first time since the sombre
event of the preceding Christmas. None of the old colour had as yet
come to her cheek, and its absolute paleness was heightened by the
jet black of her gown, till it appeared preternatural. When she
reached a little shop at the other end of the place, which stood
nearly opposite to the churchyard, Bathsheba heard singing inside the
church, and she knew that the singers were practising. She crossed
the road, opened the gate, and entered the graveyard, the high sills
of the church windows effectually screening her from the eyes of
those gathered within. Her stealthy walk was to the nook wherein
Troy had worked at planting flowers upon Fanny Robin's grave, and
she came to the marble tombstone.

A motion of satisfaction enlivened her face as she read the complete
inscription. First cam