"Yes, ma'am, he's gone! He was kind-like to mother when she wer here below, sending her the best ship-coal, and hardly any ashes from it at all; and taties, and such-like that were very needful to her. I seed en go down street on the night of your worshipful's wedding to the lady at yer side, and I thought he looked low and faltering. And I followed en over Grey's Bridge, and he turned and zeed me, and said, ""You go back!""But I followed, and he turned again, and said, ""Do you hear, sir? Go back!""But I zeed that he was low, and I followed on still. Then 'a said, ""Whittle, what do ye follow me for when I've told ye to go back all these times?""And I said, ""Because, sir, I see things be bad with 'ee, and yer wer kind-like to mother if ye were rough to me, and I would fain be kind-like to you.""Then he walked on, and I followed; and he never complained at me no more.
We walked on like that all night; and in the blue o' the morning, when 'twas hardly day, I looked ahead o' me, and I zeed that he wambled, and could hardly drag along. By that time we had got past here, but I had seen that this house was empty as I went by and I got him to come back; and I took down the boards from the windows, and helped him inside. ""What, Whittle,"" he said, ""and can ye really be such a poor fond fool as to care for such a wretch as I!"" Then I went on further, and some neighbourly woodmen lent me a bed, and a chair, and a few other traps, and we brought 'em here, and made him as comfortable as we could. But he didn't gain strength, for you see, ma'am, he couldn't eat - no, no appetite at all - and he got weaker; and today he died. One of the neighbours have gone to get a man to measure him.""Dear me - is that so!" said Farfrae.
As for Elizabeth, she said nothing.
"Upon the head of his bed he pinned a piece of paper, with some writing upon it," continued Abel Whittle. "But not being a man o' letters, I can't read writing; so I don't know what it is. I can get it and show ye."They stood in silence while he ran into the cottage; returning in a moment with a crumpled scrap of paper. On it there was pencilled as follows:-MICHAEL HENCHARD'S WILL That Elizabeth-Jane Farfrae be not told of my death, or made to grieve on account of me. & that I be not bury'd in consecrated ground. & that no sexton be asked to toll the bell. & that nobody is wished to see my dead body. & that no murners walk behind me at my funeral. &that no flours be planted on my grave. & that no man remember me. To this I put my name. MICHAEL HENCHARD"What are we to do?" said Donald, when he had handed the paper to her.