“Did any one tell you to speak to me like this?”
“Nobody at all.”
“Then it appears to me that Sergeant Troy does not concern us here,” she said, intractably. “Yet I must say that Sergeant Troy is an educated man, and quite worthy of any woman. He is well born.”
“His being higher in learning and birth than the ruck o’ soldiers is anything but a proof of his worth. It show’s his course to be down’ard.”
“I cannot see what this has to do with our conversation. Mr. Troy’s course is not by any means downward; and his superiority is a proof of his worth!”
“I believe him to have no conscience at all. And I cannot help begging you, miss, to have nothing to do with him. Listen to me this once—only this once! I don’t say he’s such a bad man as I have fancied—I pray to God he is not. But since we don’t exactly know what he is, why not behave as if he might be bad, simply for your own safety? Don’t trust him, mistress; I ask you not to trust him so.”
“Why, pray?”
“I like soldiers, but this one I do not like,” he said, sturdily. “His cleverness in his calling may have tempted him astray, and what is mirth to the neighbours is ruin to the woman. When he tries to talk to ’ee again, why not turn away with a short ‘Good day’; and when you see him coming one way, turn the other. When he says anything laughable, fail to see the point and don’t smile, and speak of him before those who will report your talk as ‘that fantastical man,’ or ‘that Sergeant What’s-his-name.’ ‘That man of a family that has come to the dogs.’ Don’t be unmannerly towards en, but harmless-uncivil, and so get rid of the man.”
No Christmas robin detained by a window-pane ever pulsed as did Bathsheba now.
“I say—I say again—that it doesn’t become you to talk about him. Why he should be mentioned passes me quite!” she exclaimed desperately. “I know this, th-th-that he is a thoroughly conscientious man—blunt sometimes even to rudeness—but always speaking his mind about you plain to your face!”