cottage to which Gabriel had retired before taking his final departure from the locality was visible as a white spot on the opposite hill, backed by blue firs. Bathsheba walked up and down. The men entered the field and endeavoured to ease the anguish of the dumb creatures by rubbing them. Nothing availed.
Bathsheba continued walking. The horse was seen descending the hill, and the wearisome series had to be repeated in reverse order: Whitepits, Springmead, Cappel's Piece, The Flats, Middle Field, Sheeplands, Sixteen Acres. She hoped Tall had had presence of mind enough to give the mare up to Gabriel, and return himself on foot. The rider neared them. It was Tall.
"Oh, what folly!" said Bathsheba.
Gabriel was not visible anywhere.
"Perhaps he is already gone," she said.
Tall came into the inclosure, and leapt off, his face tragic as Morton's after the Battle of Shrewsbury.
"Well?" said Bathsheba, unwilling to believe that her verbal lettre-de-cachet could possibly have miscarried.
"He says beggars mustn't be choosers," replied Laban.
"What!" said the young farmer, opening her eyes and drawing in her breath for an outburst.
