"Liddy, come here. Solemnly swear to me that he's not a fast man; that it is all lies they say about him!"
"Put, miss, how can I say he is not if -- -- "
"You graceless girl! How can you have the cruel heart to repeat what they say? Unfeeling thing that you are.... But I'LL see if you or anybody else in the village, or town either, dare do such a thing!" She started off, pacing from fireplace to door, and back again.
"No, miss. I don't -- I know it is not true!" said Liddy, frightened at Bathsheba's unwonted vehemence.
I suppose you only agree with me like that to please me. But, Liddy, he CANNOT BE had, as is said. Do you hear? "
"Yes, miss, yes."
"And you don't believe he is?"
"I don't know what to say, miss." said Liddy, beginning to cry. "If I say No, you don"t believe me; and if I say Yes, you rage at me!"
"Say you don't believe it -- say you don't!"
"I don't believe him to be so had as they make out."
"He is not had at all.... My poor life and heart, how weak I am!" she moaned, in a relaxed, desultory way, heedless of Liddy's presence. "O, how I wish I had never seen him! Loving is misery for women always. I shall never forgive God for making me a woman, and dearly am I beginning to pay for the honour of owning a pretty face." She freshened and turned to Liddy suddenly. "Mind this, Lydia Smallbury, if you repeat anywhere a single word of what l have said to you inside this closed door, I'll never trust you, or love you, or have you with me a moment longer -- not a moment!"
"I don't want to repeat anything." said Liddy, with womanly dignity of a diminutive order; "but I don't wish to stay with you. And, if you please, I'll go at the end of the harvest, or this week, or to-day.... I don't see that I deserve to be put upon and stormed at for nothing!" concluded the small woman, bigly.
"No, no, Liddy; you must stay!" said Bathsheba, dropping from haughtiness to entreaty with capricious inconsequence. "You must not notice my being in a taking just now. You are not as a servant -- you are a companion to me. Dear, dear -- I don't know what I am doing since this miserable ache o'! my heart has weighted and worn upon me so! What shall I come to! I suppose I shall get further and further into troubles. I wonder sometimes if I am doomed to die in the Union. I am friendless enough, God knows!"