Thomas Hardy - The Withered Arm

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:08):
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to find out
how you could volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. The
Withered Arm by Thomas Hardy read for LibriVox by Beth
Pete at Redding, UK, Chapter one, A lorn milkmaid. It

(00:33):
was an eighty cow dairy, and the troop of milkers,
regular and supernumerary were all at work. For though the
time of year was as yet but early April, the
feed lay entirely in water meadows, and the cows were
in full pale. The hour was about six in the evening,
and three fourths of the large red rectangular animals having
been finished off, there was opportunity for little conversation. He

(00:57):
do bring Homas Bryan to morrow. I hear the come
as far as Anglebury to day. The voice seemed to
perceive from the belly of a cow called Cherry. But
the speaker was a milking woman whose face was buried
in the flank of that motionless beast. Have anybody seen her?
Said another? There was a negative response from the first,
though she says she's a rosy cheeked titsy, topsy little

(01:19):
body enough, she added, And as the milk maid spoke,
she turned her face so that she could glance past
her cow's tail to the other side of the barten,
where a thin, fading woman of thirty milk. Someone apart
from the rest years anger than he, they say, continued
the second, with also a glance of reflectiveness in the
same direction. How old you call him? Then? Thirty? Or

(01:41):
so more like forty? Broken? An old milkman near in
a long white pinaforte or wropper, with the brim of
his hat tied down so that he looked like a woman.
I was born before a great weir was builded, and
I hadn't a man's wages when I laved water there
The discussion waxed so warm that the purr of the
milk streams became key, till the voice from another cow's

(02:02):
belly cried with authority. Now, then, what the turk do
it matter to us about farmer Lodge's age. Of Farmer
Lodge's new missus, I shall have to pay him nine
pound a year for the rent of every one of
these milchers, whatever his age, are hers? Good on with
your work, or twill be dark before we have done.
The evening is pinking in already. This speaker was the
dairy man himself, by whom the milkmaids and men were employed.

(02:24):
Nothing more was said publicly about Farmer Lodge's wedding, but
the first woman murmured the unto her cow to her
next neighbor, tis hard, for she signifying the thin worn
milkmaid aforesaid Oh, no, said the second yeen spoken to
Rhoda Brook for years. When the milking was done, they
washed their pails and hung them on a many fork
stand made of the peeled limb of an oak tree,

(02:46):
set upright in the earth and resembling a colossal antler horn.
The majority then dispersed in various directions homeward. The thin woman,
who had not spoken, was joined by a boy of
twelve or thereabout, and the twain went away up the
field Welso their course lay apart from that of the others,
to a lonely spot high above the water meads and

(03:06):
not far from the border of Egdon Heath, whose dark
countenance was visible in the distance as they drew now
to their home. They've just been saying down in the
Barton that your father brings his young wife home from
Angelebray tomorrow. The woman observed, I shall want to send
you for a few things to market, and it'll be
pretty sure to meet him, Yes, mother, said the boy
his father married. Then yes, you can give her look

(03:30):
and tell me what she's like if you do see her, Yes, mother,
if she's dark or fair, and if she's tall as
tall as I, and if she seems like a woman
who has ever worked for a living, or one that
has always been well off and has never done anything,
and shows marks of the lady on her as I
expect she do. Yes. They crept up the hill in
the twilight and entered the cottage. It was built of

(03:52):
mud walls, the surface of which had been washed by
many rains into channels and depressions that left none of
the original flat face visible. While here and there in
the thatch above a rafter showed like a bone protruding
through skin. She was kneeling down in the chimney corner
before two pieces of turf lay together with the heathered inwards,
blowing at the red hot ashes with her breath until

(04:13):
the turves flamed. The radiance lit her pale cheek and
made her dark eyes that had once been handsome, seem
handsome anew yes, she resumed. See if she is dark
or fair, and if you can notice if her hands
be white. If not, see if they look as though
she had ever done housework, or a milker's hands like mine,

(04:35):
the boy promised inattentively, this time his mother not observing
that he was cutting a notch with his pocket knife
in the beech backed chair. Chapter two, The Young Wife.
The road from Anglebury to Holmstoke is in general level,
but there is one place where a sharp accent breaks

(04:55):
its monotony. Farmers homeward bound from the former market town,
who trot all all the rest of the way, walk
their horses of the short incline. The next evening, while
the sun was yet bright, a handsome new gig with
a lemon colored body and red wheels was spinning westward
along the level highway at the heels of a powerful mare.

(05:15):
The driver was a yeoman in the prime of life,
cleanly shaven like an actor, his face being toned to
that bluish vermilion hue which so often graces the thriving
farmer's features. From returning home after successful dealings in the town.
Beside him sat a woman many years his junior, almost
indeed a girl. Her face too was fresh in color,

(05:38):
but it was of a totally different quality, soft and evanescent,
like the light under heap of rose petals. Few people
traveled this way, for it was not a main road,
and the long white ribboned of gravel that stretched before
them was empty save of one small, scarce moving speck,
which presently dissolved itself into the figure of a boy

(05:58):
who was creeping along at a snail's pace, and continually
looking behind him, the heavy bundle he carried, being some
excuse for, if not the reason of his dilatoriness. When
the bouncy gig party slowed at the bottom of the
incline above mentioned, the pedestrian was only a few yards
in front, supporting the large bundle by putting one hand
on his hip. He turned and looked straight at the

(06:20):
farmer's wife, as though he would read her through and through.
Pacing along the breast of the horse, the low sun
was full in her face, rendering every feature, shade and
contour distinct, from the curve of her little nostril to
the color of her eyes. The farmer, though he seemed
annoyed at the boy's persistent presence, did not order him

(06:41):
to get out of the way, and thus the lad
preceded them, his hard gaze, never leaving her until they
reached the top of the ascent, when the farmer trotted
on with relief in his lineaments, having taken no outward
notice of the boy whatever. How that poor lad stared
at me, said the young wife. Yes, dear, I saw
that he did. He's one of the village, I suppose,

(07:03):
one of the neighborhood. I think he lives with his
mother a mile or two off. He knows who we are,
no doubt. Oh, yes, you must expect to be stared
at at first, my pretty Gertrude. I do, though, I
think the poor boy might have looked at us in
hope that we might relieve him of his heavy load,
rather than from curiosity. Oh no, said her husband off handedly.

(07:23):
These country lads will carry a hundredweight once they get
it on their backs. Besides, his packet more size than
wait in it. Now, then another mile and I shall
be able to show you our house in the distance.
It was not too dark before we get there. The
wheels spun round, and particles flew from the periphery as before,
till a white house of ample dimensions revealed itself, with

(07:44):
farm buildings and ricks at the back. Meanwhile, the boy
had quickened his pace, and, turning up a bye lane
some mile and a half short of the white farmstead,
ascended towards the leaner pastures, and so on to the
cottage of his mother. She had reached home after her
day's k looking at the outlying dairy, and was watching
cabbage in the doorway and the declining light hold up

(08:05):
the net. A moment, she said, without preface. As the
boy came up, he flung down his bundle, held the
edge of the cabbage net, and as she filled its
MUSHes with the dripping leave, she went on, Well did
you see her? Yes? Quite plain? Is she lady like? Yes,
and more a lady complete? Is she young? Well, she's

(08:26):
growed up, and her ways be quite a woman's, of course.
What color is her hair and face? Her hair is lightish,
and her face is comely as a live doll's. Her
eyes then, are not dark like mine, no of a
bluish turn, and her mouth is very nice and red,
and when she smiles her teeth show white. Is she tall,
said the woman sharply. I couldn't see she was sitting down.

(08:49):
Then do you go to Holmestone Church tomorrow morning? She's
sure to be there. Go early and notice her walking in,
and come home and tell me if she's taller than I.
Very well, mother, but why don't you go and see
for yourself? Ah, go to see her. I wouldn't look
up at her if she were to pass my window
this instant. She was with mister Lodge. Of course, what
did he say? Ror do just the same as usual.

(09:11):
Took no notice of you none. Next day the mother
put a clean shirt on the boy and started him
off for Holmstoke Church. He reached the ancient little pile
when the door was just being opened, and he was
the first to enter, Taking his seat by the font.
He watched all the parishioners file in. The well to
do Farmer Lodge came nearly last, and his young wife,

(09:32):
who accompanied him, walked up the aisle with a shyness
natural to a modest woman who had thus appeared for
the first time. As all other eyes were fixed upon her,
the youth's stair was not noticed. Now. When he reached home,
his mother said, well before he had entered the room.
She is not tall. She's rather short, he replied. Ah,

(09:53):
said his mother with satisfaction. But she's very pretty, very
in fact, she's lovely. The youthful freshness of the yeoman's
wife had evidently made an impression even on the somewhat
hard nature of the boy. That's all I'm want to hear,
his mother said, quickly. Now spread the tablecloth. But the
hair you caught is very tender. But mind that nobody

(10:13):
catches you. And you never told me what sort of
hands she had. I never seen him. She never took
off her gloves. What did she wear this morning? A
white bonnet and silver colored gown. It wooed and whistled
so loud, but it rubbed against the pews that the
lady colored up even more than ever for very shame
at the noise, and pulled it in to keep it
from touching. But when she pushed into her seat, it

(10:34):
hooed more than ever. Mister Lodge, he seemed pleased, and
his waistcoat stuck out, and his great golden seals hung
like a lord's. But she seemed to wish her noisy
gown anywhere, but on her not She, however, that will
do now. These descriptions of the newly married couple were
continued from time to time by the boy his mother's request,
after any chance encounter he had with them. But rode

(10:57):
A Brook, though she might easily have seen young Missus
Lodge for herself by walking a couple of miles, would
never attempt an excursion towards the quarter where the farmhouse lay.
Neither did she, at the daily milking in the dairyman's
yard on the lodge's outlying second farm, ever speak to
the subject of the recent marriage. The dairyman, who rented
the cows of the lodge and knew perfectly the tall

(11:19):
milk maid's history, with manly kindness, always kept the gossip
in the cow Barton from annoying Rhoda. But the atmosphere
thereabout was full of the subject. During the first days
of Missus Lodge's arrival, and from her boy's description and
the casual words of the other milker's, Roda Brook had
raids a mental image of the unconscious Missus Lodge that
was realistic as a photograph. Chapter three, A vision one

(11:45):
night two or three weeks after the bridal return, when
the boy's gone to bed Rhoda sat a long time
over the turf ashes that she had raked out in
front of her to extinguish them. She contemplated so intently
the new wife has presented to her, and the mind's
eye over the embers, that she forgot the lapse of time.
At last, wearied with her day's work, she too retired.

(12:08):
But the figure which had occupied her so much during
this in the previous days was not to be banished.
At night, for the first time, Gertrude Lodge visited the
supplanted woman in her dreams. Rodebrook dreamed, since her assertion
that she really saw before falling asleep was not to
be believed. That the young wife, in the pale silk
dress and white bonnet, but with features shockingly distorted and

(12:31):
wrinkled as by age, was sitting upon her chest. As
she lay the pressure of missus Lodge's person grew heavier,
the blue eyes peered cruelly into her face, and then
the figure thrust forward its left hand mockingly so as
to make the wedding ring it wore glitter and rode
his eyes madden mentally and nearly suffocated by pressure, the

(12:51):
sleepers struggled the incubus, still regarding her, was drew to
the foot of the bed, only, however, to come forward
by degrees was zoom her seat and flash her left
hand as before. Gasping for breath, Rhoda, in a last
desperate effort, swung out her right hand, seized the confronting
specter by his obtrusive left arm, and whirled it backward

(13:13):
to the floor, starting up herself as she did so
with a low cry. Merciful Heaven, she cried, sitting on
the edge of the bed in a cold sweat. That
was not a dream. She was here. She could feel
her antagonist's arm within her grasp, even now, the very
flesh and bone of it, as it seemed. She looked
on the floor whither she had whirled the specter, but

(13:36):
there was nothing to be seen. Rhoda Brook slept no
more that night, and when she went milking at the
next dawn, they noticed how pale and haggard she looked.
The milk that she drew quivered into the pail. Her
hand had not calmed even yet, and still retained the
feel of the arm. She came home to breakfast as
wearily as if it had been supper time. What was

(13:57):
that noise? New chimmer? Mother last night? Said her, So
you fell off the bed? Surely did you hear anything
fall at one time? Just when the clock struck two?
She could not explain, and when the meal was done,
went silently about her housework, the boy assisting her, for
he hated going afield in the farms, and she indulged
his reluctance. Between eleven and twelve, the garden gate clicked,

(14:21):
and she lifted her eyes to the window. At the
bottom of the garden. Within the gate stood the woman
of her vision. Rhoda seemed transfixed. Ah, she said she
would come, exclaimed the boy, also observing her, said, so
when how does she know us? I have seen and
spoken to her. I talked to her yesterday, I told you,

(14:43):
said the mother, flushing indignantly, never to speak to anybody
in that house, or go near the place. I did
not speak to her till she spoke to me. And
I did not go near the place. I met her
in the road. What did you tell her? Nothing? She said,
are you the poor boy? You had to bring the
heavy load for market? And she looked at my boots

(15:03):
and said they would not keep my feet dry. I
it came on wet because they were so cracked. I
told her I lived with my mother and we had
enough to do to keep ourselves, and that's how it was.
And she said, then I'll come and bring you some
better boots and see your mother. She gives away things
to other folks in the meats besides us. Missus Lodge
was by this time close to the door, not in

(15:24):
her silk, as Rhoda had seen her in the bed chamber,
but in a morning hat and a gown of common
light material, which became her better than silk. On her
arm she carried a basket. The impression remaining from the
night's experience was still strong. Brooke had almost expected to
see the wrinkles, the scorn, and the cruelty on her
visitor's face. She would have escaped an interview, had escaped

(15:46):
im possible. There was, however, no back door to the cottage,
and in an instant the boy had lifted the latch
to missus Lodge's gentle knock. I see, I've come to
the right house, said she, glancing at the lad and smiling.
But I was not sure till you opened the door.
The figure and action were those of the phantom. But
her voice was so indescribably sweet, her glance so winning,

(16:09):
her smile so tender, so unlike that of Rhoda's midnight visitant,
that the latter could hardly believe the evidence of her senses.
She was truly glad that she had not hid it
away in sheer aversion, as she had been inclined to do.
In her basket, Missus Lodge brought the pair of boots
that she had promised to the boy, and other useful articles.

(16:29):
At these proofs of a kindly feeling towards her and hers,
Rhoda's heart reproached her bitterly. This innocent young thing should
have her blessing and not her curse. When she left them,
a light seemed to have gone from the dwelling. Two
days later she came again to know if the boots
were fitted, and less than a fortnight after that, Rote
paid Rhoda another call. On this occasion, the boy was absent.

(16:51):
I walk a good deal, said Missus Lodge, and your
house is the nearest outside her own, perished, I hope
you are well. You don't look quite well, said she
was well enough, And indeed, though the paler of the
two there is more of the strength that endures in
her well defined features and large frame than in the
soft cheeked young woman before her. The conversation became quite

(17:12):
confidential as regarded their powers and weaknesses, and when Missus
Lodge was leaving, Rhoda said, I hope you will find
this air agree with you, madam, and not suffer from
the damp of the watermeads. The younger one replied that
there was not much doubt of it, her general health
being usually good. Though now you remind me, she added,
I have one little ailment that which puzzles me. Is

(17:32):
nothing serious, but I cannot make it out. She uncovered
her left hand and arm, and their outline confronted Rhoda's
gaze as the exact original of the limb she had
beheld and seized in her dream. Upon the pink round
surface of the arm were faint marks of an unhealthy color,
as if produced by a rough grasp. Rhoda's eyes became

(17:53):
riveted on the discolorations. She fancied that she discerned in
them the shape of her own four fingers. How did
it happen, she said, mechanically? I cannot tell, replied Missus Lodge,
shaking her head. One night, when I was sound asleep,
dreaming I was away in some strange place, A pain
suddenly shot into my arm there and was so keen

(18:14):
as to awaken me. I must have struck it in
the daytime, I suppose, though I don't remember doing so,
she added, laughing. I tell my dear husband that it
looks just as if he had flown into a rage
and struck me there. Oh, I dare say it will
soon disappear, ha ha. Yes. On what night did it come?
Missus Lodge considered and said it would be a fortnight

(18:36):
ago on the morrow. When I awoke, I could not
remember where I was, she added, till the clock striking
two reminded me. She had named the night and the
hour of Rhoda's spectral encounter, and Brooke felt like a
guilty thing. The artless disclosure startled her, and she did
not reason on the freaks of coincidence, and all the
scenery of that ghastly night returned with double vividness to

(18:58):
her mind. Oh can it be, she said to herself,
when her visitor had departed, that I exercised a malignant
power over people against my will. She knew that she
had been slyly called a witch since her fall, but
never having understood why that particular stigma had been attached
to her, it had passed disregarded. Could this be the explanation?

(19:19):
And had such things as this ever happened before chapter
four a suggestion? The summer drew on, and Rhoda Brook
almost dreaded to meet Missus Lodge again, notwithstanding that her
feeling for the young wife amounted well nigh to affection.
Something in her own individuality seemed to convict Rhoda of crime.

(19:43):
Yet a fatality sometimes would direct the steps of the
latter to the outskirts of Holmstoke whenever she left her
house for any other purpose than her daily work, and
hence it happened that their next encounter was out of doors.
Rhoda could not avoid the subject which had so mystified her,
and after the first few words, she stammered, I hope
your arm is well again, ma'am. She had perceived with

(20:05):
consternation that Gertrude Lodge carried her left arms stiffly. No,
it is not quite well. Indeed, it is no better
at all, It is rather worse. It pays me dreadfully.
Sometimes perhaps you had better go to a doctor, ma'am.
She replied that she had already seen a doctor. Her
husband had insisted upon her going to one, But the

(20:26):
surgeon had not seemed to understand the afflicted limb at all.
He told her to bathe it in hot water, and
she had bathed it, but the treatment had done no good.
Will you let me see it, said the milkwoman. Missus Lodge,
pushed up her sleeve and disclosed the place, which was
a few inches above the wrist. As soon as Roderbrook
saw it, she could hardly preserve her composure. There was

(20:47):
nothing of the nature of a wound, but the arm
at that point had a shriveled look, and the outline
of the four fingers appeared more distinct than at the
former time. Moreover, she fancied that they were imprinted in
precise the relative position of her clutch upon the arm
in the trance, the first finger towards Gertrude's wrist and
the fourth towards her elbow. What the impressed resembled seemed

(21:10):
to have struck Gertrude herself since their last meeting. It
almost looks like finger marks, she said, adding with a
faint laugh, my husband says, it is as if some
witch or the devil himself has taken hold of me
there and blasted the flesh. Rhodes shivered. That's fancy, she said, hurriedly.
I wouldn't mind it. If I were you, I shouldn't

(21:30):
so much mind it, said the younger, with hesitation, If
if I hadn't a notion that it makes my husband
dislike me, No love me Lefs then thinks so much
of personal appearance? Some do? He for one, yes, and
he was very proud of mine at first. Keep your
arm covered it from his sight. Ah, he knows a

(21:53):
disfigurement is there. She tried to hide the tears that
filled her eyes. Well, ma'am, I earnestly hope it will
go away soon. And so the milkwoman's mind was changed
anew to the subject by a horrid sort of spell.
As she returned home, the sense of having been guilty
of an act of malignity increased, a fact, as she
might to ridicule his superstition. In her secret heart, Rhoda

(22:17):
did not altogether object to a slight diminution of her
successles beauty, by whatever means it had come about, But
she did not wish to inflict upon her physical pain.
For though this pretty young woman had rendered impossible any
reparation which Lodge might have made Rhodif for his past conduct,
everything like resentment at the unconscious usurpation had quite passed
away from the elder's mind. If the sweet and kindly

(22:40):
Gertrude Lodge only knew of the scene of the bed chamber,
what would she think not to inform her of it?
Seemed treachery in the presence of her friendliness. But tell
she could not of her own accord. Neither could she
devise a remedy. She mused upon the matter the greater
part of the night and the next day, after the morning,
milking out to obtain another glimpse of Gertrude Lodge, if

(23:02):
she could, being held to her by a gruesome fascination.
By watching the house from a distance, the milk maid
was presently able to discern the farmer's wife in a
rode she was taking alone, probably to join her husband
in some distant field. Missus Lodge perceived her and cantered
in her direction, good morning, Rhoda, Gertrude said, when she

(23:23):
had come up I was going to call Rhoda, noticed
that Missus Lodge held the reins with some difficulty. I
hope the bad arm, said Rhoda. They tell me there
is possibly one way by which it might be able
to find out the cause, and so perhaps the cure
of it, replied the other anxiously. It is by going
to some clever man over an acton heath. They did

(23:44):
not know if he was still alive, and I can't
remember his name at this moment, but they said that
you knew more of his movements than anybody else hereabout,
and could tell me if he were still to be consulted.
Dear me, what was his name? But you know not
cone a Trendle, said her thin companion, turning pale. Trendle, Yes,
is he still alive? I believe so, said Rhoda with reluctance.

(24:10):
Why do you call him conjurer? Well, they say, they
used to say he was a He had powers other
folk have not. Oh, how could my people be so
superstitious as to recommend a man of that sort? Thought
they meant, some medical man. I shall think no more
of him. Roda looked relieved, and missus Lodge rode on

(24:31):
the milkwoman had inwardly seen, from the moment she heard
of her having been mentioned as reference for this man,
that there must exist a sarcastic feeling among the workfolk
that a sorceress would know the whereabouts of the exorcist
they suspected her then a short time ago. This would
have given no concern to a woman of her common sense,
But she had a haunting reason to be superstitious now,

(24:52):
and she had been seized with a sudden dread that
this conjuror Trendle might name her as a malignant influence
which was blasting the fair person of Gertrude, and so
lead her friend to hate her forever and to treat
her as some fiend in human shape. But all was
not over. Two days after a shadow intruded into the
window pattern thrown in Rhoda Brook's floor by the afternoon sun.

(25:16):
The woman opened the door at once, almost breathlessly. Are
you alone, said Gertrude. She seemed no less harassed and
anxious than broke herself. Yes, said Rhoda. The place in
my arm seems worse and troubles me. The young farmer's
wife went on, it's so mysterious, I do hope it
would not be an incurable wound. I have again been
thinking of what they said about conjurary trendle. I don't

(25:39):
really believe in such men, and I should not mind
just visiting him from curiosity, though on no account must
my husband know? Is it far to where he lives? Yes?
Five miles, said Rhoda backwardly, in the heart of egdon. Well,
I should have to walk. Could you not go with
me to show me the way? Say tomorrow afternoon? Oh

(26:00):
I that is the milkwoman murmured with a start of dismay. Again,
the dread seized her that something to do with her
fierce act in the dream might be revealed, and her
character in the eyes of the most useful friend she
had ever had be ruined irretrievably. Missus Lodge urged, and
Rhoda finally assented, though with much misgiving. Sad as the

(26:21):
journey would be to her, she could not consciously stand
in the way of a possible remedy for her patron's
strange affliction. It was agreed that, to escape suspicion of
their mystic content, they should meet at the edge of
the heath at the corner of a plantation which was
just visible from the spot where they now stood Chapter
five Conjuror Trendell. By the next afternoon, Rhoda would have

(26:47):
done anything to escape disinquiry, but she had promised to go. Moreover,
there was a horrid fascination, at times becoming instrumental in
throwing such possible light in her own character as but
revealed to be something greater in the occult world than
she had ever herself suspected. She started just before the
time of day mentioned between them, and half hour's brist

(27:09):
walking brought her to the southeastern extension of the Egged,
in tractive country, where the fur plantation was. A slight figure,
cloaked and veiled, was already there. Rhoda recognized, almost with
a shudder that Missus Lodge wore her left arm in
a sling. They hardly spoke to each other, and immediately
set out on their climb into the interior of the

(27:30):
solemn country, which stood high by the rich alluvial soil.
They had left half an hour before. It was a
long walk. Thick clouds made the atmosphere dark that it
was only as yet early afternoon, and the wind howled
dismally over the hills of the heath, not improbably the
same heath which had witnessed the agony of the Wessex
King's ena presented to the after Ages as leer. Gertrude

(27:54):
Lodge talked most Rhoda, replying with monosyllabic preoccupation she had
estranged dislike of walking on the side of her companion
were hung the afflicted arm, moving round to the other
when inadvertently near it. Much heather had been brushed by
their feet When they descended upon a cart track beside
which stood the house of the man they sought. He

(28:14):
did not profess his remedial practices openly or care anything
about their continuance, his direct interests being those of a
deer in furze, turf, sharp sand and other local products. Indeed,
he affected not to believe largely in his own powers,
And when warts that have been shown to him for
cure miraculously disappeared, which it must be owned, they infallibly did,

(28:35):
he would say, lightly, oh, why only drink a class
of grog upon him? Perhaps it's all chance, and immediately
termed the subject. He was at home when they arrived,
having in fact seen them descending into his valley. He
was a gray bearded man with a reddish face, and
he looked singularly at Rhoda. The first moment he beheld her,
Missus Lodge told him her errand, and then with words

(28:58):
of self disparagement, he examined her arm. Medison, can't cure it,
he said, promptly, tis the work of an enemy. Rhoda
shrank into herself and drew back. An enemy. What enemy,
asked missus Lodge. He shook his head. That's best known
to yourself, he said, if you like, I can show
the person to you, though I shall not myself know

(29:19):
who it is. I can do no more, and don't
wish to do that. She pressed him, on which he
told Rhoda to wait outside where she stood, and took
missus Lodge into the room. It opened immediately from the door,
and as the latter remained Ajar Rooda Brooke could see
the proceedings without taking part in them. He brought a
tumbler from the dresser and nearly filled it with water, and,

(29:41):
fetching an egg, prepared it in some private way, after
which he broke it on the edge of the glass,
so that the white went in and the yolk remained
as it was getting gloomy. He took the glass in
its contents to the window and told Gertrude to watch
them closely. They leant over the table together, and the
milk woman could see the opening hue of the egg

(30:02):
fluid changing form as it sank in the water, but
she was not near enough to define the shape that
it assumed. Did you catch the likeness of any face
or figure as you look? Demanded the conjuror of the
young woman. She murmured a reply in tones so low
as to be inaudible to Rhoda, and continued to gaze
intently into the glass. Rhoda turned and walked a few

(30:23):
steps away. When missus Lodge came out and her face
was met by the light, it appeared exceedingly pale, as
pale as Rhoda's against the sad dun shades of the
Upland's garniture. Trndal shut the door behind her, and at
once they started homeward together, but Rhoda perceived that her
companion had quite changed. Did he charge much? She asked tentatively.

(30:47):
Oh no, nothing, He would not take a farthing, said Gertrude,
And what did you see? Inquired, Rhoda, nothing I care
to speak of. The constraint in her manner was from remarkable.
Her face was so rigid as to wear an oldened
aspect faintly suggestive of the face who rode his bed chamber.

(31:08):
Was it you who first proposed coming here? Missus Lodge
suddenly inquired, after a long pause, How very odd if
you did no? But I am not sorry. We have come,
all things considered, she replied. For the first time a
sense of triumph possessed her, and she did not altogether
deplore that the young thing at her side had learned
that their lives had been antagonized by other influences than

(31:30):
their own. The subject was no more alluded to during
the long and dreary walk home, but in some way
or other a story was whispered about the many dairy
lowland that winter that Missus Lodge's gradual loss of the
use of her left arm was owing to her being
overlooked by Rhoda Brook. The latter kept her own counsel
about the incubus, but her face grew sadder and thinner,

(31:53):
and in the spring she and her boy disappeared from
the neighborhood of Holmestoke, chapter six. A second attempt, half
a dozen years passed away, and mister missus Lodge's married
experience sang into prosiness and worse. The farmer was usually
gloomy and silent. The woman whom he had wooed for

(32:16):
her grace and beauty, was contorted and disfigured in the
left limb. Moreover, she had brought him no child, which
rendered it likely that he would be the last of
a family who had occupied that valley for some two
hundred years. He thought of rhode A Brook and her son,
and feared that this might be a judgment from Heaven
upon him. The once blithe hearted and enlightened Gertrude was

(32:38):
changing into an irritable, superstitious woman whose whole time as
given to experimenting upon her ailment with every quack remedy
she came across. She was honestly attached to her husband,
and was ever secretly hoping against hope to win back
his heart again by regaining some least of her personal beauty.
Hence it arose that her closet was lined with bottle

(33:00):
packets and ointment pots of every description, nay bunches of
mystic herbs, charms, and books of necromancy, which in her
schoolgirl time she would have ridiculed. This folly damned if
you won't poison yourself with these apothecary messes in which
mixtures some time or other, said her husband, when his
eye chanced to fall upon the multitudinous array. She did

(33:21):
not reply, but turned her sad, soft gaze upon him
in such heart swollen reproach that he looked sorry for
his words, and added, I only meant it for your good,
you know, Gertrude. I'll clear up the whole lot and
destroy them, she said, huskily, and try such remedies. No more.
You want somebody to cheer you, he observed, I want

(33:42):
son of adopting a boy, but he's too old now,
and he's gone away. I don't know where, she guessed
to whom he alluded for. Rhodesbrooke's story had in the
course of years become known to her, though not a
word had ever passed between her husband and herself on
the subject. Neither had she ever spoken to him of
her visit to conjure a trendle, and of what was

(34:02):
revealed to her, or she thought was revealed to her
by that solitary heath man. She was now five and twenty,
but she seemed older. Six years of marriage in only
a few months of love. She sometimes whispered to herself,
And then she thought of the apparent cause, and said,
with a tragic glance at her withering limb, if only

(34:24):
I could again be as I was when he first
saw me. She obediently destroyed her nostrums and charms, but
there remained a hankering wish to try something else, some
other sort of cure. Altogether, she had never visited Trendle
since she had been conducted to the house of the
Solitary by Rhoda against her will. But now it suddenly

(34:44):
occurred to Gertrude that she would, in a last desperate
effort at deliverance from the seeming curse, again seek out
the man, if he yet lived. He was entitled to
a certain credence for the indistinct form he had raised
in the glass, had it undoubtedly resembled the only woman
in the world who, as she now knew, though not then,
could have a reason for bearing her ill will. The

(35:07):
visit should be paid. This time she went alone, though
she nearly got lost on the heath and roamed a
considerable distance out of her way. Trundle's house was reached
at last, However, he was not indoors, and instead of
waiting at the cottage, she went to where his bent
figure was pointed out to her at work a long
way off, Trendle remembered her, and, laying down the handful

(35:30):
of furze roots which he was gathering as throwing into
a heap, he offered to accompany her in her homeward direction.
As the distance was considerable and the days were short,
so they walked together. His head bowed nearly to the earth,
and his form of a color with it. You can
send away warts and other excrescences, I know, she said,
Why can't you send away this? And the arm was uncovered.

(35:52):
You think too much of my powers, said trundll. I'm
old and weak now too. No, no, it is too
much for me to attempt to my own person. What
have you tried? She named him some of the hundred
medicaments and counter spells which she had adopted from time
to time. He shook his head. Seldom are good enough,
he said it provingly, but not many of them. For

(36:13):
such as this. This is of the nature of a blight,
not of the nature of a wound. And if you
could ever do throw it off, it will be all
at once. If only I could. There's only one chance
of doing it known to me. It has never failed
in kindred afflictions that I can declare. But it is
hard to carry out, and especially for a woman. Tell me,

(36:33):
said she, you must touch with the limb the neck
of a man who has been hanged. She started a
little at the image he had raised before. He's cold,
just after he's cut down, continued the conjuror impassively. How
could that do good? It will turn the blood and
change the constitution. But as I say, to do it

(36:54):
is hard. You must get into the jail and wait
for him when he's brought off the gallows. Lots have
done it, and perhaps not such pretty women as you.
I used to send dozens for skin complaints, but that
was in former times. The last I sent was in thirteen,
near twenty years ago. He had no more to tell her,
and when he had put her into a straight track homeward,

(37:15):
he turned and left her, refusing all money. As at
first chapter seven, a ride, the communications sank deep into
Gertrude's mind. Her nature was rather a timid man, and
probably of all remedies that the White Wizard could have suggested,
there was not one which had filled her with so

(37:35):
much aversion as this, not to speak of the immense
obstacles in the way of its adoption. Casterbridge, the county town,
was a dozen or fifteen miles off, and in those
days when men were executed for horse stealing or sending burglary,
and a sigh seldom passed without a hanging, it was
not likely that she could get access to the body

(37:56):
of the criminal unaided, and the fear of her husband's
anger made her reluctant to breathe a word of Trendle's
suggestion to him, or to anybody about him. She did
nothing for months, and patiently bore her disfigurement. It as before,
but her woman's nature, craving for renewed love through the
medium of renewed beauty she was but twenty five, was

(38:19):
ever stimulating her to try what, at any rate could
hardly do her any harm. What came by a spell
will go by a spell, surely, she would say. Whenever
her imagination pictured the act, she shrank in terror. From
the possibility of it. Then the words of a conjuror
it will turn your blood, were seen to be capable

(38:39):
of a scientific no less than a ghastly interpretation. The
mastering desire returned and urged on her again. There was
at this time but one county paper, and that her
husband only occasionally borrowed. But old fashioned days at old
fashioned means, and news was extensively conveyed by word of mouth,
from market to market, or from fair to fair, so

(39:02):
that whenever such an event such as an execution was
about to take place, few within a radius of twenty
miles were ignorant of the coming sight, and so far
as Holmestoke was concerned, some enthusiast had been known to
walk all the way to Casterbridge and back in one day,
solely to witness the spectacle. The next assizes were in March,

(39:22):
and when Gertrude Lodge her that they had been held,
she inquired stealthily at the inn as to the result
as soon as she could find the opportunity. She was, however,
too late. The time at which the sentences were to
be carried out had arrived, and to make the journey
and obtain admission at such short notice required at least
her husband's assistance. She dared not tell him, for she

(39:45):
had found by delicate experiment that these smoldering village beliefs
made him furious if mentioned, partly because he half entertained
them himself. It was therefore necessary to wait for another opportunity.
Her determination received a philip from learning that two epileptic
children had attended from this very village of Holmstoke many
years before, with beneficial results, though the experiment had been

(40:08):
strongly condemned by the neighboring clergy. April May June passed,
and as it is no overstatement to say that by
the end of the last named month, Gertrude Well nigh
longed for the death of a fellow creature. Instead of
her formal prayers each night, her unconscious prayer was O
Lord hangsome guilty or innocent person. Soon this time she

(40:31):
made earlier inquiries and was altogether more systematic in her proceedings. Moreover,
the season was summer, between the haymaking and the harvest,
and in the leisure thus afforded him. Her husband had
been holiday taking away from home. The assizes were in July,
and she went to the inn. As before, there was
to be one execution, only one for Arson. Her greatest

(40:55):
problem was not how to get to Casterbridge, but by
what means she should have done for obtaining admission to
the jail. Though access for such purposes had formerly never
been denied, the custom had fallen into desutude, and in
contemplating her possible difficulties, she was again almost driven to
fall back upon her husband, But on sounding him about

(41:17):
the assizes, he was so uncommunicative, so more than usually cold,
that she did not proceed, and decided that whatever she
did she would do alone. Fortune obdurate hitherto showed her
unexpected favor. On the Thursday before the Saturday fixed for
the execution, Lodge remarked to her that he was going

(41:37):
away from home for another day or two on business
an affair, and that he was sorry he could not
take her with him. She exhibited on this occasion so
much readiness to stay at home that he looked at
her in surprise. Time had been when she would have
shown deep disappointment at the loss of such a jaunt. However,
he lapsed into his usual taciturnity, and on the day

(41:58):
named left Holmestone it was now her turn. She had
first thought of driving, but on reflection how that driving
would not do, since it would necessitate her keeping to
the turnpike road, and so increase by tenfold the risk
of her ghastly errand being found out. She decided to
ride and avoid the beaten track. Notwithstanding that in her

(42:20):
husband's stables there was no animal just at present by
which any stretch of imagination could be considered a lady's mount.
In spite of his promise before marriage to always keep
a mare for her. He had, however, many cart horses,
fine ones of their kind, and among the rest was
a serviceable creature and Echwin Amazon, with a back as
broad as a sofa on which Gertrude had occasionally taken

(42:42):
an airing when unwell. This horse she chose. On Friday afternoon.
One of the men brought it round. She was dressed,
and before going down, looked at her shriveled arm. Ah,
she said to it, if it had not been for you,
this terrible ordeal would have been saved me. When strapping
up the bundle in which she carried a few articles

(43:03):
of clothing, she took occasion to say to the servant,
I take this the case I should not get back
to night from the person I'm going to visit, don't
be alarmed if I'm not in my tent and close
up the house as usual. I shall be at home
to morrow for certain. She meant then to privately tell
her husband the deed accomplished was not like the deed projected.
He would almost certainly forgive her. And then the pretty

(43:26):
palpitating Gertrude Lodge ran from her husband's homestead. But though
her goal was Casterbridge, she did not take the direct
route directly through Stickleford. Her cunning course was first in
precisely the opposite direction. As soon as she was out
of sight, however, she turned to the left by a
road which led to Acton, and on hindering the heath,
wheeled around and set out on the true course due westerly.

(43:49):
A more private way than the county could not be imagined.
And as to direction, she had merely to keep her
horse's head to a point little to the right of
the sun. She knew that she she would light upon
a furze cut or a cottager of some sort from
time to time, from whom she might correct her bearing.
Though the date was comparatively recent, Egdon was much less

(44:10):
fragmentary in character than now. The attempts successful and otherwise
at cultivation on the lower slopes which intrude and break
up to the original heath into small detached heaths had
not been carried far. Enclosure axe had not taken effect
on the banks and fences which now exclude the cattle
of those villagers who formerly enjoyed rites of commonage. Thereon

(44:31):
on the carts of those who had turpery privileges which
kept them in firing all the year round were not erected.
Gertrude therefore rode along with no other obstacles than the
prickly furze bushes, the mats of heather, the white water courses,
and the natural steeps and declivities of ground. Her horse
was sure if heavy footed and slow, and though a

(44:53):
draft animal, was easy paced, had it been otherwise, she
was not a woman who could have venture to ride
over such a bit of country with half dead arm.
It was therefore nearly eight o'clock when she drew rein
to breathe the mare on the last outlying high point
of heathland towards Casterbridge, previous to leaving Ecton for the
cultivated valleys. She halted before a pool called Rushy Pond,

(45:15):
flanked by the ends of two hedges. A railing ran
through the center of the pond, dividing it in half.
Over the railing she saw the low green country, over
the green trees, the roofs of the town. Over the
roofs a white flat facade denoting the entrance to the
County Jail. On the roof of this front, specks were
moving about. They seemed to be workmen erecting something. Her

(45:38):
flesh crept. She descended slowly and was soon amid cornfields
and pastures. In another half hour, when it was almost dusk,
Gertrude reached the White Hart, the first inn of the town.
On that side, little surprise was excited by her arrival.
Farmers wives rode on horseback more than they do now,

(45:59):
though for that matter, missus Lodge was not imagined to
be a wife at all. The innkeeper supposed her to
be some harem scare on young woman who had come
to attend the hang fair next day. Neither her husband
nor herself had ever dealt in Casterbridge Market, so that
she was unknown. While dismounting, she beheld a crowd of
boys standing at the door of harnessmaker's shop just above

(46:20):
the inn, looking inside it with deep interest. What's going
on there? She asked of the ostler making the rope
for tomorrow. She throbbed responsively and contracted her arm tis
sold by the inch. Afterwards, the man continued, I could
get you a bit miss for nothing if you'd like.
She hastily repudiated any such wish, all the more from

(46:42):
a curious creeping feeling that the condemned wretch's destiny was
becoming interwoven with her own, and having engaged a room
for the night, sat down to think. Up to this
time she had formed but the vaguest notions about her
means of attaining access to the prison. The words of
the cunning man returned to her her mind. He had
implied that she should use her beauty impaired, though it

(47:04):
was as the past key in her inexperience, she knew
little about jail functionaries. She had heard of a high
share in an under sheriff, but dimly only she knew. However,
there must be a hangman, and to the hangman she
determined to apply Chapter eight. A water side hermit at

(47:25):
this date and for several years afterward, there was a
hangman to almost every jail. Gertrude found on inquiry that
the Casterbridge official dwelt in a lonely cottage by a deep,
slow river flowing under the cliff on which the prison
buildings were situate, the stream being the self same one,
though she did not know it, which watered the Stickledford
and Holmstoke meads lower down in its course. Having changed

(47:49):
her dress before she had eaten or drunk, for she
could not take her ease until she had ascertained some particulars,
Gertrude pursued her way by a path along the water
side to the cottage indicated passing thus the outskirts of
the jail. She discerned on the level roof over the
gateway three rectangular lines against the sky, where the specks
had been moving in her distant view. She recognized what

(48:11):
the erection was and quickly passed on. Another hundred yards
brought her to the executioner's house, where a boy pointed
out it stood close to the same stream and was
hard by a weir, the waters of which emitted a
steady roar. While she stood hesitating, the door opened and
an old man came forth, shading a candle with one hand,

(48:32):
locking the door on the outside. He turned to a
flight of wooden steps fixed against the end of the
cottage and began to ascend them, this being evidently the
staircase to his bedroom. Gerdrude hastened forward, but by the
time she reached the foot of the ladder he was
at the top. She called to him loudly enough to
be heard above the roar of the weir. He looked

(48:52):
down and said, what do you want, dear to speak
to you a minute? The candle, such as it was,
fell on her imploring pale upturned face and davies as
the hangman was called back down the ladder. I was
just going to bed, he said, early to bed and
early to rise, but I don't mind stopping a minute
for such a one as you come into the house.

(49:14):
He reopened the door and preceded her to the room.
Within the implements of his daily work, which is that
of a jobbing gardener, stood in a corner, and, seeing
probably that she looked at rural he said, if you
want me to undertake cown to work, I can't come,
for I never leave Casterbridge for the gentle door, simple
not I My real calling is officer of justice. He

(49:34):
added formally, Yes, yes, that's it tomorrow, ah, I thought,
So what's the matter about that? Tis now used to
come here? About the knot? Folks do come continually, But
I tell him one knot is as merciful as another.
If you keep ye under the ear? Is the unfortunate
man a relation? Or should I say, perhaps looking hunter
dress a person who's been in your employ No, what

(49:57):
time is the execution the same as you twelve o'clock
or soon after as the London mail coach gets in.
We always wait for that in case of a reprieve. Oh,
a reprieve, I hope not, she said, involuntarily. Well he
he as a matter of business, so do I. But still,
if every young man served to be let off, this
one does, only just turned eighteen, and only present by

(50:20):
chance when the wreck was fired, how'somemer, that's not so
much risk of it, as they are obliged to make
an example of him, there having been so much destruction
of property that way lately. I mean, she explained that
I want to touch him for a charm, a cure
of an affliction by the advice of a man who
has proved the virtue of a remedy. Oh, yes, miss, now,
I understand I had such people come in past years,

(50:43):
but didn't strike me that you look disordered to require
blood turning. What's the complaint? The wrong kind for this?
I'll be bound my arm. She reluctantly showed the withered arm.
Ah Tis, solas Gram, said the hangman, examining it. Yes,
said she. Well, he continued with interest. That is a
class of subject. I'm bound to admit. I like the

(51:05):
look of the place. It's truly as suitable for the
cure as I ever saw twas a knowing man that
sent he, whoever he was. You can contrive for me
all that's necessary, she asked breathlessly. You really should have
gone to the governor of the jail in doctor Withee,
given your name an address, that thought it used to
be done. If I recollect still, perhaps maybe I can

(51:26):
manage it for a trifling fee. Oh thank you. I
would rather do it this way, as I should like
it kept private. Love or not to know? Eh, no, husband,
ah ah, very well, I'll get the attached to the corpse.
Where is it now, she asked, shuddering it he you
mean he's living yet, just inside that small window up

(51:47):
there in the glum He signified the jail on the
cliff above. She thought of her husband and her friends. Yes,
of course, she said, and how am I to proceed?
He took her to the door. Now, do you be
waiting at the little wicket in the wall that you
find up there in the lane? Not later than one o'clock.
I will open it to them from the inside, as
I shan't come home to dinner until he's cut down.

(52:08):
Good Night, be punctual if you don't want anybody to
know you wear a veil. Ah, Once I had a
daughter such as you. She went away and climbed the
path above to assure herself that she will be able
to find the wicket next day. Its outline was soon
visible to her, and narrow opening in the outer wall
of the prison precincts. The steep was so great that,

(52:29):
having reached the wicket, she stopped a moment to breathe, and,
looking back on the water clock, saw the hangman again
ascending his outsdoor staircase. He entered the loft or chamber
to which it led, and in a few minutes extinguished
his light. The town clock struck ten, and she returned
to the White Hart as she had come chapter nine

(52:51):
a Encounter. It was one o'clock on Saturday. Gertrude Lodge,
having been admitted to the jail as above described, was
sitting in a waiting room within the second gate, which
stood under classic archway of Ashlar, then comparatively modern and
bearing the inscription County Jail, seventeen ninety three. This had

(53:11):
been the facade she saw from the heath the day before.
Near at hand was a passage to the roof on
which the gallows stood. The town was thronged and the
market suspended, but Gertrude had seen scarcely a soul. Having
kept her room till the hour of the aportment, she
had proceeded to the spot by a way which avoided
the open space below the cliff where the spectators had gathered.

(53:34):
But she could even now hear the multitude in the
babble of their voices, out of which rose at intervals
the hoarse croak of a single voice uttering the words
last dying speech and confession. There had been no reprieve,
and the execution was over, but the crowd still waited
to see the body taking down. Soon, the persistent girl

(53:54):
heard a trampling overhead. Then a hand beckoned to her,
and following directions, she went out and cross the inner
paved court beyond the gatehouse, her knees trembling so she
could scarcely walk. One of her arms was out of
its sleeve and only covered by her shawl. On the
spot at which he had now arrived were two trestles,
and before she could think of their purpose, she heard

(54:16):
heavy feet descending stairs somewhere at her back. Turn her
head she would not or could not, and rigid in
this position, she was conscious of a rough coffin passing
her shoulder, borne by four men. It was open, and
in it lay the body of a young man wearing
the smock rock of a rustic and fustian breeches. The

(54:37):
corpse had been thrown into the coffin so hastily that
the skirt of the smock frock was hanging over the
burden was temporarily deposited on the trestles. By this time,
the young woman's state was such that a gray mist
seemed to float before her eyes, on account of which
in the veil she wore, she could scarcely discern anything.
It was as though she had nearly died, but was

(54:59):
held up by a sort of galvanism. Now said a
voice close at hand, and she was just conscious that
the word had been addressed to her by last strenuous effort.
She advanced at the same time, hearing persons approaching behind her,
she bared her poor cursed arm, and Davy's, uncovering the
face of the corpse, took root Gertrude's hand and held

(55:21):
it so that her arm lay across the dead man's
neck upon a line the color of an unripe BlackBerry,
which surrounded it. Gertrude shrieked. The turn of the blood
predicted by the conjuror had taken place, But at that
moment a second shriek rent the air of the enclosure.
It was not Gertrude's, and its effect upon her was

(55:42):
to make her start round. Immediately behind her stood Rhoda Brook,
her face drawn, her eyes red with weeping. Behind Rhoda
stood Gertrude's own husband, his countenance lined, his eyes dim
but without a tear. You what are you doing here,
he said hoarsely. Hussy, to come between us and our child,

(56:05):
now cried Rhoda, this is the meaning of what Satan
showed me in the vision. You are like her at last,
and clutching the bare arm of the younger woman, she
pulled her unresistingly back against the wall. Immediately Brooke had
loosened her hall. The fragile young Gertrude slid down against
the feet of her husband. When he lifted her up,
she was unconscious. The mere sight of the twain had

(56:28):
been enough to suggest to her that the dead young
man was Rhoda's son. At that time, the relatives of
an executed convict had the privilege of claiming the body
for burial of the chose to do so, and it
was for this purpose that Lodge was awaiting the inquest
with Rhoda. He had been summoned by her as soon
as the young man was taken into the crime and
at different times since, and he had attended in court

(56:51):
during the trial. This was the holiday he had been
indulging in of late. The two wretched parents had wished
to avoid exposure, and hence accumbed themselves for the body.
A wagon and sheet for its conveyance, covering being in
waiting outside. Gertrude's case was so serious that it was
deemed advisable to call to her the surgeon who was

(57:12):
at hand. She was taken out of the jail into
the town, but she never reached tom alive. Her delicate vitality, sapped,
perhaps by the paralyzed arm, collapsed under the double shock
that followed the severe strain physical and mental to which
she had subjected herself during the previous twenty four hours.
Her blood had been turned indeed too far. Her death

(57:37):
took place in the town three days after. Her husband
was never seen in Casterbridge again, once only in the
old market place of Anglebury, which he had so much frequented,
and very seldom in public anywhere. Burdened at first with
moodiness and remorse, he eventually changed for the better and

(57:57):
appeared as a chastened and thoughtful man. Soon after attending
the funeral of his poor young wife, he took steps
towards giving up the farms and homestoke on the adjoining parish,
and having sold every head of his stock, he went
away to Port Brady at the other end of the county,
living there in solitary lodgings until his death two years
later of a painless decline. It was then found that

(58:20):
he bequeathed the whole of his not inconsiderable property to
a reformitory for boys, subject to the payment of a
small annuity to roade a Brook if she could be
found to claim it. For some time she could not
be found, but eventually she reappeared in her old parish,
absolutely refusing, however, to have anything to do with the

(58:41):
provision made for her. Her monotonous milking at the dairy
was resumed, and followed for many long years, until her
form became bent, and her once abundant dark hair white
and worn away at the forehead, perhaps by long pressure
against the cows. Here sometimes those who knew her ex experiences,
we stand and observe her and wonder what somber thoughts

(59:04):
were beating, and saw that impassive wrinkled brow to the
rhythm of alternating milk streams. End of a withered arm
by Thomas Hardy