(which, by reason of Farfrae's comparative youth and his
Scottish nativity--a thing unprecedented in the case--had an interest
far beyond the ordinary). The bell-ringing and the band-playing, loud as
Tamerlane's trumpet, goaded the downfallen Henchard indescribably: the
ousting now seemed to him to be complete.

The next morning he went to the corn-yard as usual, and about eleven
o'clock Donald entered through the green door, with no trace of the
worshipful about him. The yet more emphatic change of places between
him and Henchard which this election had established renewed a slight
embarrassment in the manner of the modest young man; but Henchard
showed the front of one who had overlooked all this; and Farfrae met his
amenities half-way at once.

"I was going to ask you," said Henchard, "about a packet that I
may possibly have left in my old safe in the dining-room." He added
particulars.

"If so, it is there now," said Farfrae. "I have never opened the safe at
all as yet; for I keep ma papers at the bank, to sleep easy o' nights."

"It was not of much consequence--to me," said Henchard. "But I'll call
for it this evening, if you don't mind?"

It was quite late when he fulfilled his promise. He had primed himself
with grog, as he did very frequently now, and a curl of sardonic
humour hung on his lip as he approached the house, as though he were
contemplating some terrible form of amusement. Whatever it was, the
incident of his entry did not diminish its force, this being his first
visit to the house since he had lived there as owner. The ring of the
bell spoke to him like the voice of a familiar drudge who had been
bribed to forsake him; the movements of the doors were revivals of dead
days.

Farfrae invited him into the dining-room, where he at once unlocked
the iron safe built into the wall, HIS, Henchard's safe, made by an
ingenious locksmith under his direction. Farfrae drew thence the parcel,
and other papers, with apologies for not having returned them.

"Never mind," said Henchard drily. "The fact is they are letters
mostly....Yes," he went on, sitting down and unfolding Lucetta's
passionate bundle, "here they be. That ever I should see 'em again! I
hope Mrs. Farfrae is well after her exertions of yesterday?"

"She has felt a bit weary; and has gone to bed airly on that account."

Henchard returned to the letters, sorting them over with interest,
Farfrae being seated at the other end of the dining-tab