Far from the Madding Crowd

by Thomas Hardy

  CHAPTER XX

  PERPLEXITY--GRINDING THE SHEARS--A QUARREL

  "He is so disinterested and kind to offer me all that I can desire,"Bathsheba mused.

  Yet Farmer Boldwood, whether by nature kind or the reverse to kind,did not exercise kindness, here. The rarest offerings of the purestloves are but a self-indulgence, and no generosity at all.

  Bathsheba, not being the least in love with him, was eventually ableto look calmly at his offer. It was one which many women of her ownstation in the neighbourhood, and not a few of higher rank, wouldhave been wild to accept and proud to publish. In every point ofview, ranging from politic to passionate, it was desirable that she,a lonely girl, should marry, and marry this earnest, well-to-do,and respected man. He was close to her doors: his standing wassufficient: his qualities were even supererogatory. Had she felt,which she did not, any wish whatever for the married state in theabstract, she could not reasonably have rejected him, being a womanwho frequently appealed to her understanding for deliverance fromher whims. Boldwood as a means to marriage was unexceptionable: sheesteemed and liked him, yet she did not want him. It appears thatordinary men take wives because possession is not possible withoutmarriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriageis not possible without possession with totally differing aims themethod is the same on both sides. But the understood incentive onthe woman's part was wanting here. Besides, Bathsheba's positionas absolute mistress of a farm and house was a novel one, and thenovelty had not yet begun to wear off.

  But a disquiet filled her which was somewhat to her credit, for itwould have affected few. Beyond the mentioned reasons with whichshe combated her objections, she had a strong feeling that, havingbeen the one who began the game, she ought in honesty to accept theconsequences. Still the reluctance remained. She said in the samebreath that it would be ungenerous not to marry Boldwood, and thatshe couldn't do it to save her life.

  Bathsheba's was an impulsive nature under a deliberative aspect. AnElizabeth in brain and a Mary Stuart in spirit, she often performedactions of the greatest temerity with a manner of extreme discretion.Many of her thoughts were perfect syllogisms; unluckily they alwaysremained thoughts. Only a few were irrational assumptions; but,unfortunately, they were the ones which most frequently grew intodeeds.

  The next day to that of the declaration she found Gabriel Oak at thebottom of her garden, grinding his shears for the sheep-shearing.All the surrounding cottages were more or less scenes of the sameoperation the scurr of whetting spread into the sky from all partsof the village as from an armoury previous to a campaign. Peace andwar kiss each other at their hours of preparation--sickles, scythes,shears, and pruning-hooks, ranking with swords, bayonets, and lances,in their common necessity for point and edge.

  Cainy Ball turned the handle of Gabriel's grindstone, his headperforming a melancholy see-saw up and down with each turn of thewheel. Oak stood somewhat as Eros is represented when in the act ofsharpening his arrows: his figure slightly bent, the weight of hisbody thrown over on the shears, and his head balanced side-ways, witha critical compression of the lips and contraction of the eyelids tocrown the attitude.

  His mistress came up and looked upon them in silence for a minute ortwo; then she said--

  "Cain, go to the lower mead and catch the bay mare. I'll turn thewinch of the grindstone. I want to speak to you, Gabriel."

  Cain departed, and Bathsheba took the handle. Gabriel had glanced upin intense surprise, quelled its expression, and looked down again.Bathsheba turned the winch, and Gabriel applied the shears.

  The peculiar motion involved in turning a wheel has a wonderfultendency to benumb the mind. It is a sort of attenuated variety ofIxion's punishment, and contributes a dismal chapter to the historyof gaols. The brain gets muddled, the head grows heavy, and thebody's centre of gravity seems to settle by degrees in a leaden lumpsomewhere between the eyebrows and the crown. Bathsheba felt theunpleasant symptoms after two or three dozen turns.

  "Will you turn, Gabriel, and let me hold the shears?" she said. "Myhead is in a whirl, and I can't talk."

  Gabriel turned. Bathsheba then began, with some awkwardness,allowing her thoughts to stray occasionally from her story to attendto the shears, which required a little nicety in sharpening.

  "I wanted to ask you if the men made any observations on my goingbehind the sedge with Mr. Boldwood yesterday?"

  "Yes, they did," said Gabriel. "You don't hold the shears right,miss--I knew you wouldn't know the way--hold like this."

  He relinquished the winch, and inclosing her two hands completely inhis own (taking each as we sometimes slap a child's hand in teachinghim to write), grasped the shears with her. "Incline the edge so,"he said.

  Hands and shears were inclined to suit the words, and held thus for apeculiarly long time by the instructor as he spoke.

  "That will do," exclaimed Bathsheba. "Loose my hands. I won't havethem held! Turn the winch."

  Gabriel freed her hands quietly, retired to his handle, and thegrinding went on.

  "Did the men think it odd?" she said again.

  "Odd was not the idea, miss."

  "What did they say?"

  "That Farmer Boldwood's name and your own were likely to be flungover pulpit together before the year was out."

  "I thought so by the look of them! Why, there's nothing in it. Amore foolish remark was never made, and I want you to contradict it!that's what I came for."

  Gabriel looked incredulous and sad, but between his moments ofincredulity, relieved.

  "They must have heard our conversation," she continued.

  "Well, then, Bathsheba!" said Oak, stopping the handle, and gazinginto her face with astonishment.

  "Miss Everdene, you mean," she said, with dignity.

  "I mean this, that if Mr. Boldwood really spoke of marriage, I bain'tgoing to tell a story and say he didn't to please you. I havealready tried to please you too much for my own good!"

  Bathsheba regarded him with round-eyed perplexity. She did not knowwhether to pity him for disappointed love of her, or to be angry withhim for having got over it--his tone being ambiguous.

  "I said I wanted you just to mention that it was not true I was goingto be married to him," she murmured, with a slight decline in herassurance.

  "I can say that to them if you wish, Miss Everdene. And I couldlikewise give an opinion to 'ee on what you have done."

  "I daresay. But I don't want your opinion."

  "I suppose not," said Gabriel bitterly, and going on with histurning, his words rising and falling in a regular swell and cadenceas he stooped or rose with the winch, which directed them, accordingto his position, perpendicularly into the earth, or horizontallyalong the garden, his eyes being fixed on a leaf upon the ground.

  With Bathsheba a hastened act was a rash act; but, as does not alwayshappen, time gained was prudence insured. It must be added, however,that time was very seldom gained. At this period the single opinionin the parish on herself and her doings that she valued as sounderthan her own was Gabriel Oak's. And the outspoken honesty of hischaracter was such that on any subject, even that of her love for,or marriage with, another man, the same disinterestedness of opinionmight be calculated on, and be had for the asking. Thoroughlyconvinced of the impossibility of his own suit, a high resolveconstrained him not to injure that of another. This is a lover'smost stoical virtue, as the lack of it is a lover's most venial sin.Knowing he would reply truly she asked the question, painful asshe must have known the subject would be. Such is the selfishnessof some charming women. Perhaps it was some excuse for her thustorturing honesty to her own advantage, that she had absolutely noother sound judgment within easy reach.

  "Well, what is your opinion of my conduct," she said, quietly.

  "That it is unworthy of any thoughtful, and meek, and comely woman."

  In an instant Bathsheba's face coloured with the angry crimson ofa Danby sunset. But she forbore to utter this f
eeling, and thereticence of her tongue only made the loquacity of her face the morenoticeable.

  The next thing Gabriel did was to make a mistake.

  "Perhaps you don't like the rudeness of my reprimanding you, for Iknow it is rudeness; but I thought it would do good."

  She instantly replied sarcastically--

  "On the contrary, my opinion of you is so low, that I see in yourabuse the praise of discerning people!"

  "I am glad you don't mind it, for I said it honestly and with everyserious meaning."

  "I see. But, unfortunately, when you try not to speak in jest youare amusing--just as when you wish to avoid seriousness you sometimessay a sensible word."

  It was a hard hit, but Bathsheba had unmistakably lost her temper,and on that account Gabriel had never in his life kept his ownbetter. He said nothing. She then broke out--

  "I may ask, I suppose, where in particular my unworthiness lies? Inmy not marrying you, perhaps!"

  "Not by any means," said Gabriel quietly. "I have long given upthinking of that matter."

  "Or wishing it, I suppose," she said; and it was apparent that sheexpected an unhesitating denial of this supposition.

  Whatever Gabriel felt, he coolly echoed her words--

  "Or wishing it either."

  A woman may be treated with a bitterness which is sweet to her,and with a rudeness which is not offensive. Bathsheba would havesubmitted to an indignant chastisement for her levity had Gabrielprotested that he was loving her at the same time; the impetuosityof passion unrequited is bearable, even if it stings andanathematizes--there is a triumph in the humiliation, and atenderness in the strife. This was what she had been expecting,and what she had not got. To be lectured because the lecturer sawher in the cold morning light of open-shuttered disillusion wasexasperating. He had not finished, either. He continued in a moreagitated voice:--

  "My opinion is (since you ask it) that you are greatly to blame forplaying pranks upon a man like Mr. Boldwood, merely as a pastime.Leading on a man you don't care for is not a praiseworthy action.And even, Miss Everdene, if you seriously inclined towards him, youmight have let him find it out in some way of true loving-kindness,and not by sending him a valentine's letter."

  Bathsheba laid down the shears.

  "I cannot allow any man to--to criticise my private conduct!" sheexclaimed. "Nor will I for a minute. So you'll please leave thefarm at the end of the week!"

  It may have been a peculiarity--at any rate it was a fact--that whenBathsheba was swayed by an emotion of an earthly sort her lower liptrembled: when by a refined emotion, her upper or heavenward one.Her nether lip quivered now.

  "Very well, so I will," said Gabriel calmly. He had been held toher by a beautiful thread which it pained him to spoil by breaking,rather than by a chain he could not break. "I should be even betterpleased to go at once," he added.

  "Go at once then, in Heaven's name!" said she, her eyes flashing athis, though never meeting them. "Don't let me see your face anymore."

  "Very well, Miss Everdene--so it shall be."

  And he took his shears and went away from her in placid dignity, asMoses left the presence of Pharaoh.