"Oak, said Boldwood, `before you go I want to mention what has been passing in my mind lately -- that little arrangement we made about your share in the farm I mean. That share is small, too small, considering how little I attend to business now, and how much time and thought you give to it. Well,
"Pray don't speak of it, sir," said Oak, hastily. `We don't know what may happen. So many upsets may befall 'ee. There's many a slip, as they say -- and I would advise you -- I know you'll pardon me this once -- not to be too sure."
"I know, I know. But the feeling I have about increasing your share is on account of what I know of you Oak, I have learnt a little about your secret: your interest in her is more than that of bailiff for an employer. But you have behaved like a man, and I, as a sort of successful rival -- successful partly through your goodness of heart -- should like definitely to show my sense of your friendship under what must have been a great pain to you."
"O that's not necessary, thank 'ee," said Oak, hurriedly. "I must get used to such as that; other men have, and so shall I."
Oak then left him. He was uneasy on Boldwood's account, for he saw anew that this constant passion of the farmer made him not the man he once had been.
As Boldwood continued awhile in his room alone -- ready and dressed to receive his company -- the mood of anxiety about his appearance seemed to pass away, and to be succeeded by a deep solemnity. He looked out of the window, and regarded the dim outline of the trees upon the sky, and the twilight deepening to darkness.
Then he went to a locked closet, and took from a locked drawer therein a small circular case the size of a pill-box, and was about to put it into his pocket. But he lingered to open the cover and take a momentary glance inside. It contained a woman's finger-ring, set all the way round with small
The noise of wheels at the front of the house became audible. Boldwood closed the box, stowed it away carefully in his pocket, and went out upon the landing. The old man who was his indoor factotum came at the same moment to the foot of the stairs.
"They be coming, sir -- lots of 'em -- a-foot and a-driving!"
"I was coming down this moment. Those wheels I heard -- is it Mrs Troy?"
"No, sir -- 'tis not she yet."
A reserved and sombre expression had returned to Boldwood's face again, but it poorly cloaked his feelings when he pronounced Bathsheba's name; and his feverish anxiety continued to show its existence by a galloping motion of his fingers upon the side of his thigh as he went down the stairs.