It weighs me to the earth.
It makes me say what ought to be said first by you."
"Never mind — say it."
"O, must I? — it is, when shall we be married, Frank?"
"Oh, I " see.
Well — you have to get proper clothes."
"I have money.
Will it be by banns or license?"
"Banns, I should think."
"And we live in two parishes."
"Do we?
What then?"
"My lodgings are in St. Mary's, and this is not.
So they will have to be published in both."
"Is that the law?"
"Yes.
O Frank — you think me forward, I am afraid!
Don't, dear Frank — will you — for I love you so.
And you said lots of times you would marry me, and and — I — I — I — — "
"Don't cry, now!
It is foolish.
If i said so, of course I will."
"And shall I put up the banns in my parish, and will you in yours?"
"Yes"
"To-morrow?"
"Not tomorrow.
We'll settle in a few days."
"You have the permission of the officers?"
"No, not yet."
"O — how is it?
You said you almost had before you left Casterbridge."
"The fact is, I forgot to ask.
Your coming like this I'll go away now. Will you go,and see me tomorrow. It's so sudden and unexpected."
"Yes — yes — it is.
It was wrong of me to worry you.
I'll go away now.
Will you come and see me to-morrow, at Mrs. Twills's, in North Street?
I don't like to come to the Barracks.
There are bad women about, and they think me one."
"Quite,so.
I'll come to you, my dean Good-night."
"Good-night, Frank — good-night!"
And the noise was again heard of a window closing The little spot moved away.
When she passed the corner a subdued exclamation was heard inside the wall.
"Ho — ho — Sergeant — ho — ho!" An expostulation followed, but it was indistinct; and it became lost amid a low peal of laughter, which was hardly distinguishable from the gurgle of the tiny whirlpools outside.
CHAPTER XII
FARMERS — A RULE — IN EXCEPTION
THE first public evidence of Bathsheba's decision to be a farmer in her own person and by proxy no more was her appearance the following market-day in. the cornmarket at Casterbridge.
The low though extensive hall, supported by beams and pillars, and latterly dignified by-the name of Corn Exchange, was thronged with hot men who talked among each other in twos and threes, the speaker of the minute looking sideways into his auditor's face and concentrating his argument by a contraction of one eyelid during de- livery.
The greater number carried in their hands ground-ash saplings, using them partly as walking-sticks and partly for poking up pigs, sheep, neighbours with their backs turned, and restful things in general, which seemed to require such treatment in the course of their peregrinations.