Bathsheba had nothing to say.
She entered her bedroom and sat by the window, and
thought and thought till night enveloped her, and the
extreme lines only of her shape were visible. Somebody
came to the door, knocked, and opened it.
"Well, what is it, Liddy?" she said.
"I was thinking there must be something got for you
to wear." said Liddy, with hesitation.
"What do you mean?"
"Mourning."
"No, no, no." said Bathsheba, hurriedly.
"But I suppose there must be something done for
poor -- -- "
"Not at present, I think. It is not necessary."
"Why not, ma'am?"
"Because he's still alive."
"How do you know that?" said Liddy, amazed.
"I don't know it. But wouldn't it have been different,
or shouldn't I have heard more, or wouldn't they have
found him, Liddy? -- or-i don't know how it is, but
death would have been different from how this is. I am
perfectly convinced that he is still alive!"
Bathsheba remained firm in this opinion till Monday,
when two circumstances conjoined to shake it. The
first was a short paragraph in the local newspaper, which,
beyond making by a methodizing pen formidable pre-
sumptive evidence of Troy's death by drowning, con-
tained the important testimony of a young Mr.
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