of Elizabeth into a brighter sphere of
existence than she appertained to. Lucetta, discerning that he was much
mixed that day, partly in his mercantile mood and partly in his romantic
one, said gaily to him--

"Well, don't forsake the machine for us," and went indoors with her
companion.

The latter felt that she had been in the way, though why was
unaccountable to her. Lucetta explained the matter somewhat by saying
when they were again in the sitting-room--

"I had occasion to speak to Mr. Farfrae the other day, and so I knew him
this morning."

Lucetta was very kind towards Elizabeth that day. Together they saw the
market thicken, and in course of time thin away with the slow decline
of the sun towards the upper end of town, its rays taking the street
endways and enfilading the long thoroughfare from top to bottom. The
gigs and vans disappeared one by one till there was not a vehicle in the
street. The time of the riding world was over; the pedestrian world held
sway. Field labourers and their wives and children trooped in from the
villages for their weekly shopping, and instead of a rattle of wheels
and a tramp of horses ruling the sound as earlier, there was nothing but
the shuffle of many feet. All the implements were gone; all the farmers;
all the moneyed class. The character of the town's trading had changed
from bulk to multiplicity and pence were handled now as pounds had been
handled earlier in the day.

Lucetta and Elizabeth looked out upon this, for though it was night and
the street lamps were lighted, they had kept their shutters unclosed. In
the faint blink of the fire they spoke more freely.

"Your father was distant with you," said Lucetta.

"Yes." And having forgotten the momentary mystery of Henchard's seeming
speech to Lucetta she continued, "It is because he does not think I am
respectable. I have tried to be so more than you can imagine, but in
vain! My mother's separation from my father was unfortunate for me. You
don't know what it is to have shadows like that upon your life."

Lucetta seemed to wince. "I do not--of that kind precisely," she said,
"but you may feel a--sense of disgrace--shame--in other ways."

"Have you ever had any such feeling?" said the younger innocently.

"O no," said Lucetta quickly. "I was thinking of--what happens sometimes
when women get themselves in strange positions in the eyes of the world
from no fault of their own."

"It must make them very unhappy a