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XXXV. At an Upper Window

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           CogganandOaknoddedrespectfullytothefarmer,justcheckedtheirpacestodiscoveriftheywerewanted,andfindingtheywerenotstoodbacktolethimpasson.

           TheonlysignsoftheterriblesorrowBoldwoodhadbeencombatingthroughthenight,andwascombatingnow,werethewantofcolourinhiswell-definedface,theenlargedappearanceoftheveinsinhisforeheadandtemples,andthesharperlinesabouthismouth.Thehorseborehimaway,andtheverystepoftheanimalseemedsignificantofdoggeddespair.Gabriel,foraminute,roseabovehisowngriefinnoticingBoldwood’s.Hesawthesquarefiguresittingerectuponthehorse,theheadturnedtoneitherside,theelbowssteadybythehips,thebrimofthehatlevelandundisturbedinitsonwardglide,untilthekeenedgesofBoldwood’sshapesankbydegreesoverthehill.Toonewhoknewthemanandhisstorytherewassomethingmorestrikinginthisimmobilitythaninacollapse.Theclashofdiscordbetweenmoodandmatterherewasforcedpainfullyhometotheheart;and,asinlaughtertherearemoredreadfulphasesthanintears,sowasthereinthesteadinessofthisagonizedmananexpressiondeeperthanacry.

           

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