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XLIII. Fanny's Revenge

           

           "Doyouknowher?"saidBathsheba,inasmallenclosedecho,asfromtheinteriorofacell.

           "Ido,"saidTroy.

           "Isitshe?"

           "Itis."

           Hehadoriginallystoodperfectlyerect.Andnow,inthewell-nighcongealedimmobilityofhisframecouldbediscernedanincipientmovement,asinthedarkestnightmaybediscernedlightafterawhile.Hewasgraduallysinkingforwards.Thelinesofhisfeaturessoftened,anddismaymodulatedtoillimitablesadness.Bathshebawasregardinghimfromtheotherside,stillwithpartedlipsanddistractedeyes.Capacityforintensefeelingisproportionatetothegeneralintensityofthenature,andperhapsinallFanny’ssufferings,muchgreaterrelativelytoherstrength,thereneverwasatimeshesufferedinanabsolutesensewhatBathshebasufferednow.

           WhatTroydidwastosinkuponhiskneeswithanindefinableunionofremorseandreverenceuponhisface,and,bendingoverFannyRobin,gentlykissedher,asonewouldkissaninfantasleeptoavoidawakeningit.

           Atthesightandsoundofthat,toher,unendurableact,Bathshebasprangtowardshim.Allthestrongfeelingswhichhadbeenscatteredoverherexistencesincesheknewwhatfeelingwas,seemedgatheredtogetherintoonepulsationnow.Therevulsionfromherindignantmoodalittleearlier,whenshehadmeditateduponcompromisedhonour,forestalment,eclipseinmaternitybyanother,wasviolentandentire.Allthatwasforgotteninthesimpleandstillstrongattachmentofwifetohusband.Shehadsighedforherself-completenessthen,andnowshecriedaloudagainsttheseveranceoftheunionshehaddeplored.

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