t in his dining-room
stiffly erect, gazing at the opposite wall as if he read his history
there.

"Begad!" he suddenly exclaimed, jumping up. "I didn't think of that.
Perhaps these are impostors--and Susan and the child dead after all!"

However, a something in Elizabeth-Jane soon assured him that, as
regarded her, at least, there could be little doubt. And a few hours
would settle the question of her mother's identity; for he had arranged
in his note to see her that evening.

"It never rains but it pours!" said Henchard. His keenly excited
interest in his new friend the Scotchman was now eclipsed by this event,
and Donald Farfrae saw so little of him during the rest of the day that
he wondered at the suddenness of his employer's moods.

In the meantime Elizabeth had reached the inn. Her mother, instead of
taking the note with the curiosity of a poor woman expecting assistance,
was much moved at sight of it. She did not read it at once, asking
Elizabeth to describe her reception, and the very words Mr. Henchard
used. Elizabeth's back was turned when her mother opened the letter. It
ran thus:--

"Meet me at eight o'clock this evening, if you can, at the Ring on the
Budmouth road. The place is easy to find. I can say no more now. The
news upsets me almost. The girl seems to be in ignorance. Keep her so
till I have seen you. M. H."

He said nothing about the enclosure of five guineas. The amount was
significant; it may tacitly have said to her that he bought her
back again. She waited restlessly for the close of the day, telling
Elizabeth-Jane that she was invited to see Mr. Henchard; that she would
go alone. But she said nothing to show that the place of meeting was not
at his house, nor did she hand the note to Elizabeth.

11.

The Ring at Casterbridge was merely the local name of one of the finest
Roman Amphitheatres, if not the very finest, remaining in Britain.

Casterbridge announced old Rome in every street, alley, and precinct.
It looked Roman, bespoke the art of Rome, concealed dead men of Rome. It
was impossible to dig more than a foot or two deep about the town
fields and gardens without coming upon some tall soldier or other of the
Empire, who had lain there in his silent unobtrusive rest for a space of
fifteen hundred years. He was mostly found lying on his side, in an oval
scoop in the chalk, like a chicken in its shell; his knees drawn up to
his chest; sometimes with the remains of his