Farfrae seemed seriously disposed to discuss this move, and they talked thereon till a visitor was announced. Their neighbour Alderman Vatt came in.
“You’ve heard, I suppose of poor Doctor Chalkfield’s death? Yes—died this afternoon at five,” said Mr. Vatt. Chalkfield was the Councilman who had succeeded to the Mayoralty in the preceding November.
Farfrae was sorry at the intelligence, and Mr. Vatt continued: “Well, we know he’s been going some days, and as his family is well provided for we must take it all as it is. Now I have called to ask ’ee this—quite privately. If I should nominate ’ee to succeed him, and there should be no particular opposition, will ’ee accept the chair?”
“But there are folk whose turn is before mine; and I’m over young, and may be thought pushing!” said Farfrae after a pause.
“Not at all. I don’t speak for myself only, several have named it. You won’t refuse?”
“We thought of going away,” interposed Lucetta, looking at Farfrae anxiously.
“It was only a fancy,” Farfrae murmured. “I wouldna refuse if it is the wish of a respectable majority in the Council.”
“Very well, then, look upon yourself as elected. We have had older men long enough.”
When he was gone Farfrae said musingly, “See now how it’s ourselves that are ruled by the Powers above us! We plan this, but we do that. If they want to make me Mayor I will stay, and Henchard must rave as he will.”
From this evening onward Lucetta was very uneasy. If she had not been imprudence incarnate she would not have acted as she did when she met Henchard by accident a day or two later. It was in the bustle of the market, when no one could readily notice their discourse.