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XXXI. Blame—Fury

           

           Shehadwalkednearlytwomilesofherjourney,watchinghowthedaywasretreating,andthinkinghowthetimeofdeedswasquietlymeltingintothetimeofthought,togiveplaceinitsturntothetimeofprayerandsleep,whenshebeheldadvancingoverYalburyhilltheverymanshesoughtsoanxiouslytoelude.Boldwoodwassteppingon,notwiththatquiettreadofreservedstrengthwhichwashiscustomarygait,inwhichhealwaysseemedtobebalancingtwothoughts.Hismannerwasstunnedandsluggishnow.

           Boldwoodhadforthefirsttimebeenawakenedtowoman’sprivilegesintergiversationevenwhenitinvolvesanotherperson’spossibleblight.ThatBathshebawasafirmandpositivegirl,farlessinconsequentthanherfellows,hadbeentheverylungofhishope;forhehadheldthatthesequalitieswouldleadhertoadheretoastraightcourseforconsistency’ssake,andaccepthim,thoughherfancymightnotfloodhimwiththeiridescenthuesofuncriticallove.Buttheargumentnowcamebackassorrygleamsfromabrokenmirror.Thediscoverywasnolessascourgethanasurprise.

           Hecameonlookingupontheground,anddidnotseeBathshebatilltheywerelessthanastone’sthrowapart.Helookedupatthesoundofherpit-pat,andhischangedappearancesufficientlydenotedtoherthedepthandstrengthofthefeelingsparalyzedbyherletter.

           "Oh;isityou,Mr.Boldwood?"shefaltered,aguiltywarmthpulsinginherface.

           Thosewhohavethepowerofreproachinginsilencemayfinditameansmoreeffectivethanwords.

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