`Yes - that he is.'

`Let's toss, as men do,' said Bathsheba idly. `Now then, head, Boldwood; tail, Teddy. No, we won't toss money on a Sunday, that would be tempting the devil indeed.'

`Toss this hymn-book; there can't be no sinfulness in that, miss.'

`Very well. Open, Boldwood - shut, Teddy. No; it's more like to fall open. Open, Teddy - shut, Boldwood.'

The book went fluttering in the air and came down shut.

Bathsheba, a small yawn upon her mouth, took the pen, and with off-hand serenity directed the missive to Boldwood.

`Now light a candle, Liddy. Which seal shall we use? Here's a unicorn s head - there's nothing in that. What's this? - two doves - no. It ought to be something extraordinary, ought it not, Lidd? Here's one with a motto - I remember it is some funny one, but I can't read it. `We'll try this, and if it doesn't do we'll have another.'

A large red seal was duly affixed. Bathsheba looked closely at the hot wax to discover the words.

`Capital!' she exclaimed, throwing down the letter frolicsomely. `'Twould upset the solemnity of a parson and clerk too.'

Liddy looked at the words of the seal, and read--

`MARRY ME.'

The same evening the letter was sent, and was duly sorted in Casterbridge post-office that night, to be returned to Weatherbury again in the morning.

So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done of love as a spectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectively she knew nothing.