A process somewhat analogous to that of alleged formations of the universe, time and times ago, was observable.

The bustling swarm had swept the sky in a scattered and uniform haze, which now thickened to a nebulous centre: this glided on to a bough and grew still denser, till it formed a solid black spot upon the light.
The men and women being all busily engaged in saving the hay--even Liddy had left the house for the purpose of lending a hand--Bathsheba resolved to hive the bees herself, if possible.

She had dressed the hive with herbs and honey, fetched a ladder, brush, and crook, made herself impregnable with armour of leather gloves, straw hat, and large gauze veil--once green but now faded to snuff colour--and ascended a dozen rungs of the ladder.

At once she heard, not ten yards off, a voice that was beginning to have a strange power in agitating her.
"Miss Everdene, let me assist you; you should not attempt such a thing alone." Troy was just opening the garden gate.
Bathsheba flung down the brush, crook, and empty hive, pulled the skirt of her dress tightly round her ankles in a tremendous flurry, and as well as she could slid down the ladder.

By the time she reached the bottom Troy was there also, and he stooped to pick up the hive.
"How fortunate I am to have dropped in at this moment!" exclaimed the sergeant.
She found her voice in a minute.