pedestrians were about to enter. Before they had risen to proceed two
men passed outside the hedge, engaged in argumentative conversation.

"Why, surely," said Elizabeth, as they receded, "those men mentioned the
name of Henchard in their talk--the name of our relative?"

"I thought so too," said Mrs. Newson.

"That seems a hint to us that he is still here."

"Yes."

"Shall I run after them, and ask them about him----"

"No, no, no! Not for the world just yet. He may be in the workhouse, or
in the stocks, for all we know."

"Dear me--why should you think that, mother?"

"'Twas just something to say--that's all! But we must make private
inquiries."

Having sufficiently rested they proceeded on their way at evenfall. The
dense trees of the avenue rendered the road dark as a tunnel, though the
open land on each side was still under a faint daylight, in other words,
they passed down a midnight between two gloamings. The features of the
town had a keen interest for Elizabeth's mother, now that the human side
came to the fore. As soon as they had wandered about they could see that
the stockade of gnarled trees which framed in Casterbridge was itself
an avenue, standing on a low green bank or escarpment, with a ditch