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XIII. Sortes Sanctorum—The Valentine

           

           Bathsheba,asmallyawnuponhermouth,tookthepen,andwithoff-handserenitydirectedthemissivetoBoldwood.

           "Nowlightacandle,Liddy.Whichsealshallweuse?Here’saunicorn’sheadthere’snothinginthat.What’sthis?twodovesno.Itoughttobesomethingextraordinary,oughtitnot,Liddy?Here’sonewithamottoIrememberitissomefunnyone,butIcan’treadit.We’lltrythis,andifitdoesn’tdowe’llhaveanother."

           Alargeredsealwasdulyaffixed.Bathshebalookedcloselyatthehotwaxtodiscoverthewords.

           "Capital!"sheexclaimed,throwingdowntheletterfrolicsomely."’Twouldupsetthesolemnityofaparsonandclerketoo."

           Liddylookedatthewordsoftheseal,andread

           "MarryMe."

           Thesameeveningtheletterwassent,andwasdulysortedinCasterbridgepost-officethatnight,tobereturnedtoWeatherburyagaininthemorning.

           Soveryidlyandunreflectinglywasthisdeeddone.OfloveasaspectacleBathshebahadafairknowledge;butoflovesubjectivelysheknewnothing.

           

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