His tone was so excited that she almost feared him at this moment, even whilst she sympathized. It was a simple physical fear -- the weak of the strong; there no emotional aversion or inner repugnance. She said, with some distress in her voice, for she remembered vividly his outburst on the Yalbury Road, and shrank from a repetition of his anger: -"I will never marry another man whilst you wish me to be your wife, whatever comes -- but to say more -- you have taken me so by surprise -- "
"But let it stand in these simple words -- that in six years' time you will be my wife? Unexpected accidents we'll not mention, because those, of course, must be given way to. Now, this time I know you will keep your word."
"That's why I hesitate to give it."
"But do give it! Remember the past, and be kind."
She breathed; and then said mournfully: "O what shall I do? I don't love you, and I much fear that I never shall love you as much as a woman ought to love a husband. If you, sir, know that, and I can yet give you happiness by a mere promise to marry at the end of six years, if my husband should not come back, it is a great honour to me. And if you value such an act of friendship from a woman who doesn't esteem herself as she did, and has little love left, why it will -- "
"Promise!"
" -- Consider, if I cannot promise soon."
"But soon is perhaps never?"
"O no, it is not! I mean soon. Christmas, we'll say."
"Christmas!" He said nothing further till he added: "Well, I'll say no more to you about it till that time."
Bathsheba was in a very peculiar state of mind, which showed how entirely the soul is the slave of the body, the ethereal spirit dependent for its quality upon the tangible flesh and blood. It is hardly too much to say that she felt coerced by a force stronger than her own will, not only into the act of promising upon this singularly remote and vague matter, but into the emotion of fancying that she ought to promise. When the weeks intervening between the night of this conversation and Christmas day began perceptibly to diminish, her anxiety and perplexity increased.
One day she was led by an accident into an oddly confidential dialogue with Gabriel about her difficulty It afforded her a little relief -- of a dull and cheerless kind. They were auditing accounts, and something occurred in the course of their labours which led Oak to say, speaking of Boldwood, " He'll never forget you, ma'am, never."