XXVIII. The Hollow Amid the Ferns

           

           ThehilloppositeBathsheba’sdwellingextended,amileoff,intoanuncultivatedtractofland,dottedatthisseasonwithtallthicketsofbrakefern,plumpanddiaphanousfromrecentrapidgrowth,andradiantinhuesofclearanduntaintedgreen.

           Ateighto’clockthismidsummerevening,whilstthebristlingballofgoldintheweststillsweptthetipsofthefernswithitslong,luxuriantrays,asoftbrushing-byofgarmentsmighthavebeenheardamongthem,andBathshebaappearedintheirmidst,theirsoft,featheryarmscaressingheruptohershoulders.Shepaused,turned,wentbackoverthehillandhalf-waytoherowndoor,whenceshecastafarewellglanceuponthespotshehadjustleft,havingresolvednottoremainneartheplaceafterall.

           Shesawadimspotofartificialredmovingroundtheshoulderoftherise.Itdisappearedontheotherside.

           ShewaitedoneminutetwominutesthoughtofTroy’sdisappointmentathernon-fulfilmentofapromisedengagement,tillsheagainranalongthefield,clamberedoverthebank,andfollowedtheoriginaldirection.Shewasnowliterallytremblingandpantingatthishertemerityinsuchanerrantundertaking;herbreathcameandwentquickly,andhereyesshonewithaninfrequentlight.Yetgoshemust.Shereachedthevergeofapitinthemiddleoftheferns.Troystoodinthebottom,lookinguptowardsher.

           "IheardyourustlingthroughthefernbeforeIsawyou,"hesaid,comingupandgivingherhishandtohelpherdowntheslope.

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