"Don't cry--don't cry!" said Henchard, with vehement pathos, "I can't
bear it, I won't bear it. I am your father; why should you cry? Am I so
dreadful, so hateful to 'ee? Don't take against me, Elizabeth-Jane!"
he cried, grasping her wet hand. "Don't take against me--though I was a
drinking man once, and used your mother roughly--I'll be kinder to you
than HE was! I'll do anything, if you will only look upon me as your
father!"
She tried to stand up and comfort him trustfully; but she could not; she
was troubled at his presence, like the brethren at the avowal of Joseph.
"I don't want you to come to me all of a sudden," said Henchard in
jerks, and moving like a great tree in a wind. "No, Elizabeth, I don't.
I'll go away and not see you till to-morrow, or when you like, and then
I'll show 'ee papers to prove my words. There, I am gone, and won't
disturb you any more....'Twas I that chose your name, my daughter; your
mother wanted it Susan. There, don't forget 'twas I gave you your name!"
He went out at the door and shut her softly in, and she heard him go
away into the garden. But he had not done. Before she had moved, or in
any way recovered from the effect of his disclosure, he reappeared.
"One word more, Elizabeth," he said. "You'll take my surname now--hey?
Your mother was against it, but it will be much more pleasant to me.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182