It was at this time that Elizabeth-Jane, having heard where her
stepfather was, entered the room with a pale and agonized countenance.
The choir and the rest of the company moved off, in accordance with
their half-pint regulation. Elizabeth-Jane went up to Henchard, and
entreated him to accompany her home.
By this hour the volcanic fires of his nature had burnt down, and having
drunk no great quantity as yet he was inclined to acquiesce. She took
his arm, and together they went on. Henchard walked blankly, like a
blind man, repeating to himself the last words of the singers--
"And the next age his hated name
Shall utterly deface."
At length he said to her, "I am a man to my word. I have kept my oath
for twenty-one years; and now I can drink with a good conscience....If I
don't do for him--well, I am a fearful practical joker when I choose! He
has taken away everything from me, and by heavens, if I meet him I won't
answer for my deeds!"
These half-uttered words alarmed Elizabeth--all the more by reason of
the still determination of Henchard's mien.
"What will you do?" she asked cautiously, while trembling with
disquietude, and guessing Henchard's allusion only too well.
Henchard did not answer, and they went on till they had reached his
cottage. "May I come in?" she said.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339