“Bathsheba—out alone at this time o’ night!” said Boldwood in amazement, and starting up. “Why must you meet her?”
“She was expecting me to-night—and I must 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 love-making 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.