erstitions. Her figure in
the midst of the huge enclosure, the unusual plainness of her dress, her
attitude of hope and appeal, so strongly revived in his soul the memory
of another ill-used woman who had stood there and thus in bygone days,
and had now passed away into her rest, that he was unmanned, and his
heart smote him for having attempted reprisals on one of a sex so weak.
When he approached her, and before she had spoken a word, her point was
half gained.

His manner as he had come down had been one of cynical carelessness; but
he now put away his grim half-smile, and said, in a kindly subdued tone,
"Goodnight t'ye. Of course I'm glad to come if you want me."

"O, thank you," she said apprehensively.

"I am sorry to see 'ee looking so ill," he stammered with unconcealed
compunction.

She shook her head. "How can you be sorry," she asked, "when you
deliberately cause it?"

"What!" said Henchard uneasily. "Is it anything I have done that has
pulled you down like that?"

"It is all your doing," she said. "I have no other grief. My happiness
would be secure enough but for your threats. O Michael! don't wreck me
like this! You might think that you have done enough! When I came here
I was a young woman; now I am rapidly becoming an old one. Neither my
husband nor any other man will regard me with interest long."

Henchard was disarmed. His old feeling of supercilious pity for
womankind in general was intensified by this suppliant appearing here
as the double of the first. Moreover that thoughtless want of foresight
which had led to all her trouble remained with poor Lucetta still; she
had come to meet him here in this compromising way without perceiving
the risk. Such a woman was very small deer to hunt; he felt ashamed,
lost all zest and desire to humiliate Lucetta there and then, and no
longer envied Farfrae his bargain. He had married money, but nothing
more. Henchard was anxious to wash his hands of the game.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he said gently. "I am sure I shall be
very willing. My reading of those letters was only a sort of practical
joke, and I revealed nothing."

"To give me back the letters and any papers you may have that breathe of
matrimony or worse."

"So be it. Every scrap shall be yours....But, between you and me,
Lucetta, he is sure to find out something of the matter, sooner or
later.

"Ah!" she said with eager tremulousness; "but not till I have proved
myself a faithful