now speak to her, and wish her good-bye, according to your wish."
"I don't see the necessity of speaking."
"It can do no harm—and she'll be wandering about looking for me if I don't. You shall hear all I say to her. It will help you in your lovemaking when I am gone."
"Your tone is mocking."
"Oh no. And remember this, if she does not know what has become of me, she will think more about me than if I tell her flatly I have come to give her up."
"Will you confine your words to that one point?—Shall I hear every word you say?"
"Every word. Now sit still there, and hold my carpet bag for me, and mark what you hear."
The light footstep came closer, halting occasionally, as if the walker listened for a sound. Troy whistled a double note in a soft, fluty tone.
"Come to that, is it!" murmured Boldwood, uneasily.
"You promised silence," said Troy.
"I promise again."
Troy stepped forward.
"Frank, dearest, is that you?" The tones were Bathsheba's.
"O God!" said Boldwood.
"Yes," said Troy to her.
