o have her in his house. In
truth, a great change had come over him with regard to her, and he was
developing the dream of a future lit by her filial presence, as though
that way alone could happiness lie.

He was disturbed by another knock at the door, and rose to open it,
rather deprecating a call from anybody just then. A stoutly built man
stood on the doorstep, with an alien, unfamiliar air about his figure
and bearing--an air which might have been called colonial by people of
cosmopolitan experience. It was the man who had asked the way at Peter's
finger. Henchard nodded, and looked inquiry.

"Good morning, good morning," said the stranger with profuse heartiness.
"Is it Mr. Henchard I am talking to?"

"My name is Henchard."

"Then I've caught 'ee at home--that's right. Morning's the time for
business, says I. Can I have a few words with you?"

"By all means," Henchard answered, showing the way in.

"You may remember me?" said his visitor, seating himself.

Henchard observed him indifferently, and shook his head.

"Well--perhaps you may not. My name is Newson."

Henchard's face and eyes seemed to die. The other did not notice it. "I
know the name well," Henchard said at last, looking on the floor.

"I make no doubt of that. Well, the fact is, I've been looking for 'ee
this fortnight past. I landed at Havenpool and went through Casterbridge
on my way to Falmouth, and when I got there, they told me you had some
years before been living at Casterbridge. Back came I again, and by long
and by late I got here by coach, ten minutes ago. 'He lives down by the
mill,' says they. So here I am. Now--that transaction between us
some twenty years agone--'tis that I've called about. 'Twas a curious
business. I was younger then than I am now, and perhaps the less said
about it, in one sense, the better."

"Curious business! 'Twas worse than curious. I cannot even allow that
I'm the man you met then. I was not in my senses, and a man's senses are
himself."

"We were young and thoughtless," said Newson. "However, I've come to
mend matters rather than open arguments. Poor Susan--hers was a strange
experience."

"She was a warm-hearted, home-spun woman. She was not what they call
shrewd or sharp at all--better she had been."

"She was not."

"As you in all likelihood know, she was simple-minded enough to think
that the sale was in a way binding. She was as guiltless o' wrong-doing
in that particular as a saint in th