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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"The Mayor of Casterbridge"

In consciousness of this they
stopped.
"I never found out who it was that sent us to Durnover granary on a
fool's errand that day," said Donald, in his undulating tones. "Did ye
ever know yourself, Miss Newson?"
"Never," said she.
"I wonder why they did it!"
"For fun, perhaps."
"Perhaps it was not for fun. It might have been that they thought they
would like us to stay waiting there, talking to one another? Ay, well! I
hope you Casterbridge folk will not forget me if I go."
"That I'm sure we won't!" she said earnestly. "I--wish you wouldn't go
at all."
They had got into the lamplight. "Now, I'll think over that," said
Donald Farfrae. "And I'll not come up to your door; but part from you
here; lest it make your father more angry still."
They parted, Farfrae returning into the dark Bowling Walk, and
Elizabeth-Jane going up the street. Without any consciousness of what
she was doing she started running with all her might till she reached
her father's door. "O dear me--what am I at?" she thought, as she pulled
up breathless.
Indoors she fell to conjecturing the meaning of Farfrae's enigmatic
words about not daring to ask her what he fain would. Elizabeth, that
silent observing woman, had long noted how he was rising in favour among
the townspeople; and knowing Henchard's nature now she had feared that
Farfrae's days as manager were numbered, so that the announcement gave
her little surprise.


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