Would Mr. Farfrae stay in Casterbridge despite his
words and her father's dismissal? His occult breathings to her might be
solvable by his course in that respect.
The next day was windy--so windy that walking in the garden she picked
up a portion of the draft of a letter on business in Donald Farfrae's
writing, which had flown over the wall from the office. The useless
scrap she took indoors, and began to copy the calligraphy, which she
much admired. The letter began "Dear Sir," and presently writing on a
loose slip "Elizabeth-Jane," she laid the latter over "Sir," making the
phrase "Dear Elizabeth-Jane." When she saw the effect a quick red ran up
her face and warmed her through, though nobody was there to see what she
had done. She quickly tore up the slip, and threw it away. After this
she grew cool and laughed at herself, walked about the room, and laughed
again; not joyfully, but distressfully rather.
It was quickly known in Casterbridge that Farfrae and Henchard had
decided to dispense with each other. Elizabeth-Jane's anxiety to know
if Farfrae were going away from the town reached a pitch that disturbed
her, for she could no longer conceal from herself the cause. At length
the news reached her that he was not going to leave the place. A man
following the same trade as Henchard, but on a very small scale, had
sold his business to Farfrae, who was forthwith about to start as corn
and hay merchant on his own account.
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