Her mother, though her head was bowed, had already caught
from the inn-window tones that strangely riveted her
attention, before the old man’s words, “Mr. Henchard, the
Mayor,” reached her ears. She arose, and stepped up to her
daughter’s side as soon as she could do so without showing
exceptional eagerness.
The interior of the hotel dining-room was spread out before
her, with its tables, and glass, and plate, and inmates.
Facing the window, in the chair of dignity, sat a man about
forty years of age; of heavy frame, large features, and
commanding voice; his general build being rather coarse than
compact. He had a rich complexion, which verged on
swarthiness, a flashing black eye, and dark, bushy brows and
hair. When he indulged in an occasional loud laugh at some
remark among the guests, his large mouth parted so far back
as to show to the rays of the chandelier a full score or
more of the two-and-thirty sound white teeth that he
obviously still could boast of.
That laugh was not encouraging to strangers, and hence it
may have been well that it was rarely heard. Many theories
might have been built upon it. It fell in well with
conjectures of a temperament which would have no pity for
weakness, but would be ready to yield ungrudging admiration
to greatness and strength. Its producer’s personal
goodness, if he had any, would be of a very fitful cast–an
occasional almost oppressive generosity rather than a mild
and constant kindness.
Susan Henchard’s husband–in law, at least–sat before them,
matured in shape, stiffened in line, exaggerated in traits;
disciplined, thought-marked–in a word, older. Elizabeth,
encumbered with no recollections as her mother was, regarded
him with nothing more than the keen curiosity and interest
which the discovery of such unexpected social standing in
the long-sought relative naturally begot. He was dressed in
an old-fashioned evening suit, an expanse of frilled shirt
showing on his broad breast; jewelled studs, and a heavy
gold chain. Three glasses stood at his right hand; but, to
his wife’s surprise, the two for wine were empty, while the
third, a tumbler, was half full of water.