Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1899-02-11
CHAPTER Nil.

Elizabeth Jane had perceived 1rOm
Henchard's manner that In asserting to
dance she had made mistake Of some
kind. In her simplicity she did not know
what 1t was, till a hint from a nodding
acquaintance enlightened her. As the
Mayors stepdaughter, she learned, she
had not been quite In her place In tread.
lne q measure amid such mixed throng
% Alled the dancing pavilion.
Thereupon her ears, cheeks and chin
slowed like live Goals at the dawning Of
The idea that her manners and tastes were
not good enough for her position, and
would bring her into disgrace.
This made her very miserable, and she
looked about for her mother; but Mrs.
Henchard, who had no more idea Of gen.
itility than Elizabeth herself, had gone
away, leaving her daughter to return at
her own pleasure. The latter moved on
Into the dark dense old avenues, or rather
vaults Of living woodwork, which ran
along the town walls, and stood rejecting.
A man came along In a few minutes
and her face being toward the shine from
the tent, he recognized her. II was Far.
frae-just come from the dialogue with
aenchard which had signiAed his die.
missal.
"And It's you, Miss Newson land I've
been looking for ye everywhereT' he said,
overcoming q sadness impaired BY the
estrangement with the corn merchant.
"Nay I walk on with you as far a. your
street corner? It's like that I'm going to
leave you s00n."
She faltered, "WhyT
"Oh--as q mere matter Of business
AAkhla~ ssnnao Elsst Svos11 soA oo0 nssS-
selves about lit II for the best. hoped
% have another dance with you"
II cannot dance-in any proper way"
"Oh, but you do. It's the feeling for Il
rather than the learning Of steps that
makes pleasant dancers-l fear offended
your father By getting up this! And now,
perhaps. III have to 80 to another part o
the world altogether"
This seemed such Q melancholy pros.
psct that Elisabeth Jane breathed q sigh
Letting II OF In fragments that he might
not hear her. But darkness makes peo-
pie truthful, and the Scotchman went on
impulsively-perhaps he had heard her
after all:
II wish was richer. Miss Newson; and
your stcpfather had not been offended; I
would ask you something In short time
20, would ask you tonight. But that's
not for mev'
What he would have asked her he did
not say; and instead Of encouraging him
she remained incompetently silent. Thus
afraid one Of another, they continued their
promenade.
The next day was windy-so windy that
walking In the garden she picked up Q
portion Of the draft Of letter on business
In Donald Farfrae's writing, which had
Gown over the wall from the Office. The
useless scrap she took indoors, and began
to copy the caligraphy, which she much
admired. The letter began Dear Sir,
and presently writing on loose slip
elizabeth Jane" she laid the latter over
"Sir," making the phrase Dear Elisa
beth Jane" When she saw the effect q
quick red ran up her face and warmed her
through, though nobody was there to see
what she had done. She quickly tore up
the slip and threw 1t away. After this
she grew cool, and laughed at herself,
walked about the room and laughed again;
not joyfully, but distressfully rather.
Il was quickly known In Casterbridge
that Farfrae and Henchard had decided
70 dispense with each other. Elisabeth
James anxiety to know II Farfrae was
going away from the town reached pitch
that disturbed her, for she could NO longer
conceal from herself the cause. At length
the news reached her that he was not
going to leave the place. A man follow.
ing the same trade a. Henchard, but on
q very small scale, had sold his business
to Farfrae, who was forthwith about to
start as corn and hay merchant on biz
own account.
Henchard was incensed beyond meas
urs when he learned what the young man
had done. When he reached home after
leaving the town hall he seemed to recol'
lect something with q sour satisfaction
He called Elisabeth Jane. Seeing how be
looked when she entered she appeared
alarmed.
"Nothing to find fault with" he said
observing her concern. "Only I want Il
caution you, my dear. That man. Far
frae-it is about him. I've seen him talk
ine TO ye two or three times-he danced
with 70 at the rejoicings. and came HON,
with zee. Now, now, no blame to you
But Just hearken: Have you made hin
any foolish prOmisey'
mo. have promised him nothing"
"GOod. Ais well that ends well.
, particuiariy VIE" "" wv =" seV "'a
again."
every well, sir"
When she had gone he sat down, ani
wrote In q heavy hand to Farfrae thus:
"Sir: I particularly request that hence
forth you and my stepdaushter be q
strangers to each other. She on her par
has promised to welcome NO more ad
dresses from you; and ! trust, therefore
,;u will not attempt to force them upor
her. NJ. HENCHARD."
Meanwhile Donald Farfrae had opened
the gates Of commerce on his own accoun,
at q spot on DummerfOrd Hill-as far al
possible from Henchard's stores, and will
every intention Of keeping clear OF bill
former friend and employers customers
There was, It seemed to the younger man
room for both Of them and to spare. Tit
town was small, hut the corn and hay
trade was prOpOrtionately large, and will
bis native sagacity he saw honest 0ppOr
tunity for a share Of It. 30 determined
was he to do nothing which should seen
like trade antagonism to the Mayor thu
hs refused his first customers larg
farmer Of good repute-because Henchart
and this man had dealt together within
the preceding three months.
Almost every Saturday they enc0un
ers which thrOnged about the market
place In the weekly course Of their busi
ness. Donald was always ready, ant
even anxious, to say few friendly wards
but the Mayor invariably gazed scornful
ly past him, like one who had endure'
and lost on his account, and could In NJ