Though the overshadowing trees and the approach of eventide enveloped them in gloom, Bathsheba could see plainly enough to discern the extreme poverty of the woman's garb, and the sadness of her face.
"Please, sir, do you know at what time Casterbridge Union-house closes at night?"
The woman said these words to Troy over his shoulder.
Troy started visibly at the sound of the voice; yet he seemed to recover presence of mind sufficient to prevent himself from giving way to his impulse to suddenly turn and face her. He said slowly—
"I don't know."
The woman, on hearing him speak, quickly looked up, examined the side of his face, and recognized the soldier under the yeoman's garb. Her face was drawn into an expression which had gladness and agony both among its elements. She uttered an hysterical cry, and fell down.
"Oh, poor thing!" exclaimed Bathsheba, instantly preparing to alight.
"Stay where you are, and attend to the horse!" said Troy, peremptorily, throwing her the reins and the whip. "Walk the horse to the top: I'll see to the woman."
"But I———"
