"Don't let me drive you away, mistress. I think I won't go in to-night."
"Oh no—you don't drive me away."
Then they stood in a state of some embarrassment, Bathsheba trying to wipe her dreadfully drenched and inflamed face without his noticing her. At length Oak said, "I've not seen you—I mean spoken to you—since ever so long, have I?" But he feared to bring distressing memories back, and interrupted himself with: "Were you going into church?"
"No," she said. "I came to see the tombstone privately—to see if they had cut the inscription as I wished. Mr. Oak, you needn't mind speaking to me, if you wish to, on the matter which is in both our minds at this moment."
"And have they done it as you wished?" said Oak.
"Yes. Come and see it, if you have not already."
So together they went and read the tomb. "Eight months ago!" Gabriel murmured when he saw the date. "It seems liked yesterday to me."
"And to me as if it were years ago—long years, and I had been dead between. And now I am going home, Mr. Oak."
Oak walked after her. "I wanted to name a
