Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy Read Free Book Online Page A

such a deed—and she shunned it.
    “I believe you saved my life, miss——I don’t know your name. I know your aunt’s, but not yours.”
    “I would just as soon not tell it—rather not. There is no reason either why I should, as you probably will never have much to do with me.”
    “Still I should like to know.”
    “You can inquire at my aunt’s—she will tell you.”
    “My name is Gabriel Oak.”
    “And mine isn’t. You seem fond of yours in speaking it so decisively, Gabriel Oak.”
    “You see, it is the only one I shall ever have, and I must make the most of it.”
    “I always think mine sounds odd and disagreeable.”
    “I should think you might soon get a new one.”
    “Mercy!—how many opinions you keep about you concerning other people, Gabriel Oak.”
    “Well, miss—excuse the words—I thought you would like them. But I can’t match you, I know, in mapping out my mind upon my tongue. I never was very clever in my inside. But I thank you. Come, give me your hand!”
    She hesitated, somewhat disconcerted at Oak’s old-fashioned earnest conclusion to a dialogue lightly carried on. “Very well,” she said, and gave him her hand, compressing her lips to a demure impassivity. He held it but an instant, and in his fear of being too demonstrative, swerved to the opposite extreme, touching her fingers with the lightness of a small-hearted person.
    “I am sorry,” he said the instant after.
    “What for?”
    “Letting your hand go so quick.”
    “You may have it again if you like; there it is.” She gave him her hand again.
    Oak held it longer this time—indeed, curiously long. “How soft it is—being winter time, too—not chapped or rough, or anything!” he said.
    “There—that’s long enough,” said she, though without pulling it away. “But I suppose you are thinking you would like to kiss it? You may if you want to.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of any such thing,” said Gabriel simply; “but I will——”
    “That you won’t!” She snatched back her hand.
    Gabriel felt himself guilty of another want of tact.
    “Now find out my name,” she said teasingly; and withdrew.

CHAPTER IV
    Gabriel’s Resolve—The Visit—The Mistake
    The only superiority in women that is tolerable to the rival sex is, as a rule, that of the unconscious kind; but a superiority which recognizes itself may sometimes please by suggesting possibilities of capture to the subordinated man.
    This well-favoured and comely girl soon made appreciable inroads upon the emotional constitution of young Farmer Oak.
    Love being an extremely exacting usurer (a sense of exorbitant profit, spiritually, by an exchange of hearts, being at the bottom of pure passions, as that of exorbitant profit, bodily or materially, is at the bottom of those of lower atmosphere), every morning Oak’s feelings were as sensitive as the money-market in calculations upon his chances. His dog waited for his meals in a way so like that in which Oak waited for the girl’s presence that the farmer was quite struck with the resemblance, felt it lowering, and would not look at the dog. However, he continued to watch through the hedge for her regular coming, and thus his sentiments towards her were deepened without any corresponding effect being produced upon herself. Oak had nothing finished and ready to say as yet, and not being able to frame love phrases which end where they begin; passionate tales—
    —Full of sound and fury
    —Signifying nothing—
    he said no word at all.
    By making inquiries he found that the girl’s name was Bathsheba Everdene, and that the cow would go dry in about seven days. He dreaded the eighth day.
    At last the eighth day came. The cow had ceased to give milk for that year, and Bathsheba Everdene came up the hill no more. Gabriel had reached a pitch of existence he never could have anticipated a short time before. He liked saying “Bathsheba” as a private enjoyment instead of whistling; turned over his taste