A man in a brown smock-frock turned the corner and came towards the house. It being market-day at Casterbridge, the village was nearly deserted, and more than this, the old farm-house in which Owen and his sister were staying, stood, as has been stated, apart from the body of cottages. The man did not look respectable; Cytherea arose and bolted the door.
Unfortunately he was near enough to see her cross the room. He advanced to the door, knocked, and, receiving no answer, came to the window; he next pressed his face against the glass, peering in.
Cytherea's experience at that moment was probably as trying a one as ever fell to the lot of a gentlewoman to endure. She recognized in the peering face that of the man she had married.
But not a movement was made by her, not a sound escaped her. Her fear was great; but had she known the truth--that the man outside, feeling he had nothing on earth to lose by any act, was in the last stage of recklessness, terrified nature must have given way.
'Cytherea,' he said, 'let me come in: I am your husband.' 'No,' she replied, still not realizing the magnitude of her peril.
'If you want to speak to us, wait till my brother comes.' 'O, he's not at home? Cytherea, I can't live without you! All my sin has been because I love you so! Will you fly with me? I have money enough for us both--only come with me.' 'Not now--not now.' 'I am your husband, I tell you, and I must come in.' 'You cannot,' she said faintly. His words began to terrify her.
'I will, I say!' he exclaimed. 'Will you let me in, I ask once more?' 'No--I will not,' said Cytherea.
'Then I will let myself in!' he answered resolutely. 'I will, if I die for it!' The windows were glazed in lattice panes of leadwork, hung in casements. He broke one of the panes with a stone, thrust his hand through the hole, unfastened the latch which held the casement close, and began opening the window.
Instantly the shutters flew together with a slam, and were barred with desperate quickness by Cytherea on the inside.
'Damn you!' he exclaimed.
He ran round to the back of the house. His impatience was greater now: he thrust his fist through the pantry window at one blow, and opened it in the same way as the former one had been opened, before the terror-stricken girl was aware that he had gone round. In an instant he stood in the pantry, advanced to the front room where she was, flung back the shutters, and held out his arms to embrace her.