Troy was not greatly elated by the appreciative spirit in which he was undoubtedly treated, but he thought the engage- ment might afford him a few weeks for consideration.
It was thus carelessly, and without having formed any definite plan for the future, that Troy found himself at Greenhill Fair with the rest of the company on this day.
And now the mild autumn sun got lower, and in front of the pavilion the following incident had taken place.
Bathsheba — who was driven to the fair that day by her odd man Poorgrass — had, like every one else, read or heard the announcement that Mr. Francis, the Great Cosmopolitan Equestrian and Roughrider, would enact the part of Turpin, and she was not yet too old and careworn to be without a little curiosity to see him.
This particular show was by far the largest and grandest in the fair, a horde of little shows grouping themselves under its shade like chickens around a hen.
The crowd had passed in, and Boldwood, who had been watching all the day for an opportunity of speaking to her, seeing her comparatively isolated, came up to her side.
"I hope the sheep have done well to-day, Mrs. Troy?" he said, nervously.
"O yes, thank you." said Bathsheba, colour springing up in the centre of her cheeks.
"I was fortunate enough to sell them all just as we got upon the hill, so we hadn't to pen at all."
"And now you are entirely at leisure?"
"Yes, except that I have to see one more dealer in two hours' time: otherwise I should be going home.
He was looking at this large tent and the announcement.
Have you ever seen the play of
"Turpin's Ride to York?"
Turpin was a real man, was he not?"
"O yes, perfectly true — all of it.
Indeed, I think I've heard Jan Coggan say that a relation of his knew Tom King, Turpin's friend, quite well."
"Coggan is rather given to strange stories connected with his relations, we must remember.
I hope they can all be believed."
"Yes, yes; we know Coggan.
But Turpin is true enough.
You have never seen it played, I suppose?"
"Never.
I was not allowed to go into these places when I was young.
Hark! What's that prancing?
How they shout!"
"Black Bess just started off, I suppose.
Am I right in supposing you would like to see the performance, Mrs. Troy?
Please excuse my mistake, if it is one; but if you would like to, I'll get a seat for you with pleasure."
Perceiving that she hesitated, he added, "I myself shall not stay to see it: I've seen it before."
Now Bathsheba did care a little to see the show, and had only withheld her feet from the ladder because she feared to go in alone.
She had been hoping that Oak might appear, whose assistance in such cases was always accepted as an inalienable right, but Oak was nowhere to be seen; and hence it was that she said,
"Then if you will just look in first, to see if there's room, I think I will go in for a minute or two."
And so a short time after this Bathsheba appeared in the tent with Boldwood at her elbow, who, taking her to a "reserved" seat, again withdrew.
This feature consisted of one raised bench in very conspicuous part of the circle, covered with red cloth, and floored with a piece of carpet, and Bathsheba immediately found, to her confusion, that she was the single reserved individual in the tent, the rest of the crowded spectators, one and all, standing on their legs on the borders of the arena, where they got twice as good a view of the performance for half the money.
Hence as many eyes were turned upon her, enthroned alone in this place of honour, against a scarlet back- ground, as upon the ponies and clown who were engaged in preliminary exploits in the centre, Turpin not having yet appeared.
Once there, Bathsheba was forced to make the best of it and remain: she sat down, spreading her skirts with some dignity over the unoccupied space on each side of her, and giving a new and feminine aspect to the pavilion.
In a few minutes she noticed the fat red nape of Coggan's neck among those standing just below her, and Joseph Poorgrass's saintly profile a little further on.
The interior was shadowy with a peculiar shade.
The strange luminous semi-opacities of fine autumn afternoons and eves intensified into Rembrandt effects the few yellow sunbeams which came through holes and divisions in the canvas, and spirted like jets of gold-dust across the dusky blue atmosphere of haze pervading the tent, until they alighted on inner surfaces of cloth opposite, and shone like little lamps suspended there.
Troy, on peeping from his dressing-tent through a slit for a reconnoitre before entering, saw his unconscious wife on high before him as described, sitting as queen of the tournament.
He started back in utter confusion, for although his disguise effectually concealed his personality, he instantly felt that she would be sure to recognize his voice.
He had several times during the day thought of the possibility of some Weatherbury person or other appearing and recognizing him; but he had taken the risk carelessly. If they see me, let them, he had said.
But here was Bathsheba in her own person; and the reality of the scene was so much intenser than any of his prefigurings that he felt he had not half enough considered the point.
She looked so charming and fair that his cool mood about Weatherbury people was changed.
He had not expected her to exercise this power over him in the twinkling of an eye.
Should he go on, and care nothing?
He could not bring himself to do that.
Beyond a politic wish to remain unknown, there suddenly arose in him now a sense of shame at the possibility that his attractive young wife, who already despised him, should despise him more by discovering him in so mean a condition after so long a time.
He actually blushed at the thought, and was vexed beyond measure that his sentiments of dislike towards Weatherbury should have led him to dally about the country in this way.