one after one
This reflection , constantly repeated by Henchard to himself , accompanied him everywhere through the day . His mood was no longer that of the rebellious , ironical , reckless misadventurer ; but the leaden gloom of one who has lost all that can make life interesting , or even tolerable . There would remain nobody for him to be proud of , nobody to fortify him ; for Elizabeth-Jane would soon be but as a stranger , and worse . Susan , Farfrae , Lucetta , Elizabeth -- all had gone from him , one after one , either by his fault or by his misfortune . In place of them he had no interest , hobby , or desire . If he could have summoned music to his aid his existence might even now have been borne ; for with Henchard music was of regal power . The merest trumpet or organ tone was enough to move him , and high harmonies transubstantiated him .