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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"Far from the Madding Crowd"

I've thought of it all this
morning, and I've chosen my course. A runaway wife
is an encumbrance to everybody, a burden to herself and
a byword -- all of which make up a heap of misery
greater than any that comes by staying at home --
though this may include the trifling items of insult,
beating, and starvation. Liddy, if ever you marry --
God forbid that you ever should! -- you'll find yourself
in a fearful situation; but mind this, don't you flinch.
Stand your ground, and be cut to pieces. That's
what I'm going to do."
"O, mistress, don't talk so!" said Liddy,-taking her
hand; "but I knew you had too much sense to bide
away. May I ask what dreadful thing it is that has
happened between you and him?"
"You may ask; but I may not tell."
In about ten minutes they returned to the house by
a circuitous route, entering at the rear. Bathsheba
glided up the back stairs to a disused attic, and her
companion followed.
"Liddy." she said, with a lighter heart, for youth and
hope had begun to reassert themselves;" you are to be
my confidante for the present -- somebody must be -- and
I choose you.


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