law, and he went indoors
to inquire of his mistress what were her wishes on the subject. He
found her in an unusual mood: her eyes as she looked up to him were
suspicious and perplexed as with some antecedent thought. Troy
had not yet returned. At first Bathsheba assented with a mien of
indifference to his proposition that they should go on to the church
at once with their burden; but immediately afterwards, following
Gabriel to the gate, she swerved to the extreme of solicitousness on
Fanny's account, and desired that the girl might be brought into the
house. Oak argued upon the convenience of leaving her in the waggon,
just as she lay now, with her flowers and green leaves about her,
merely wheeling the vehicle into the coach-house till the morning,
but to no purpose. "It is unkind and unchristian," she said, "to
leave the poor thing in a coach-house all night."

"Very well, then," said the parson. "And I will arrange that the
funeral shall take place early to-morrow. Perhaps Mrs. Troy is
right in feeling that we cannot treat a dead fellow-creature too
thoughtfully. We must remember that though she may have erred
grievously in leaving her home, she is still our sister: and it is
to be believed that God's uncovenanted mercies are extended towards
her, and that she is a member of the flock of Christ."

The parson's words spread into the heavy air with a sad yet
unperturbed cadence, and Gabriel shed an honest tear. Bathsheba
seemed unmoved. Mr. Thirdly then left them, and Gabriel lighted
a lantern. Fetching three other men to assist him, they bore the
unconscious truant indoors, placing the coffin on two benches in the
middle of a little sitting-room next the hall, as Bathsheba directed.

Every one except Gabriel Oak then left the room. He still
indecisively lingered beside the body. He was deeply troubled at the
wretchedly ironical aspect that circumstances were putting on with
regard to Troy's wife, and at his own powerlessness to counteract
them. In spite of his careful manoeuvering all this day, the very
worst event that could in any way have happened in connection with
the burial had happened now. Oak imagined a terrible discovery
resulting from this afternoon's work that might cast over Bathsheba's
life a shade which the interposition of many lapsing years might but
indifferently lighten, and which nothing at all might altogether
remove.

Suddenly, as in a last attempt to save Bathsheba from, at