The Woodlanders

by Thomas Hardy

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  Were the inventors of automatic machines to be ranged according to theexcellence of their devices for producing sound artistic torture, thecreator of the man-trap would occupy a very respectable if not a veryhigh place.

  It should rather, however, be said, the inventor of the particular formof man-trap of which this found in the keeper's out-house was aspecimen. For there were other shapes and other sizes, instrumentswhich, if placed in a row beside one of the type disinterred by Tim,would have worn the subordinate aspect of the bears, wild boars, orwolves in a travelling menagerie, as compared with the leading lion ortiger. In short, though many varieties had been in use during thosecenturies which we are accustomed to look back upon as the true andonly period of merry England--in the rural districts moreespecially--and onward down to the third decade of the nineteenthcentury, this model had borne the palm, and had been most usuallyfollowed when the orchards and estates required new ones.

  There had been the toothless variety used by the softer-heartedlandlords--quite contemptible in their clemency. The jaws of theseresembled the jaws of an old woman to whom time has left nothing butgums. There were also the intermediate or half-toothed sorts,probably devised by the middle-natured squires, or those under theinfluence of their wives: two inches of mercy, two inches of cruelty,two inches of mere nip, two inches of probe, and so on, through thewhole extent of the jaws. There were also, as a class apart, thebruisers, which did not lacerate the flesh, but only crushed the bone.

  The sight of one of these gins when set produced a vivid impressionthat it was endowed with life. It exhibited the combined aspects of ashark, a crocodile, and a scorpion. Each tooth was in the form of atapering spine, two and a quarter inches long, which, when the jawswere closed, stood in alternation from this side and from that. Whenthey were open, the two halves formed a complete circle between two andthree feet in diameter, the plate or treading-place in the midst beingabout a foot square, while from beneath extended in opposite directionsthe soul of the apparatus, the pair of springs, each one being of astiffness to render necessary a lever or the whole weight of the bodywhen forcing it down.

  There were men at this time still living at Hintock who remembered whenthe gin and others like it were in use. Tim Tangs's great-uncle hadendured a night of six hours in this very trap, which lamed him forlife. Once a keeper of Hintock woods set it on the track of a poacher,and afterwards, coming back that way, forgetful of what he had done,walked into it himself. The wound brought on lockjaw, of which hedied. This event occurred during the thirties, and by the year 1840the use of such implements was well-nigh discontinued in theneighborhood. But being made entirely of iron, they by no meansdisappeared, and in almost every village one could be found in somenook or corner as readily as this was found by Tim. It had, indeed,been a fearful amusement of Tim and other Hintock lads--especiallythose who had a dim sense of becoming renowned poachers when theyreached their prime--to drag out this trap from its hiding, set it, andthrow it with billets of wood, which were penetrated by the teeth tothe depth of near an inch.

  As soon as he had examined the trap, and found that the hinges andsprings were still perfect, he shouldered it without more ado, andreturned with his burden to his own garden, passing on through thehedge to the path immediately outside the boundary. Here, by the helpof a stout stake, he set the trap, and laid it carefully behind a bushwhile he went forward to reconnoitre. As has been stated, nobodypassed this way for days together sometimes; but there was just apossibility that some other pedestrian than the one in request mightarrive, and it behooved Tim to be careful as to the identity of hisvictim.

  Going about a hundred yards along the rising ground to the right, hereached a ridge whereon a large and thick holly grew. Beyond this forsome distance the wood was more open, and the course which Fitzpiersmust pursue to reach the point, if he came to-night, was visible along way forward.

  For some time there was no sign of him or of anybody. Then thereshaped itself a spot out of the dim mid-distance, between the masses ofbrushwood on either hand. And it enlarged, and Tim could hear thebrushing of feet over the tufts of sour-grass. The airy gait revealedFitzpiers even before his exact outline could be seen.

  Tim Tangs turned about, and ran down the opposite side of the hill,till he was again at the head of his own garden. It was the work of afew moments to drag out the man-trap, very gently--that the plate mightnot be disturbed sufficiently to throw it--to a space between a pair ofyoung oaks which, rooted in contiguity, grew apart upward, forming aV-shaped opening between; and, being backed up by bushes, left this asthe only course for a foot-passenger. In it he laid the trap with thesame gentleness of handling, locked the chain round one of the trees,and finally slid back the guard which was placed to keep the gin fromaccidentally catching the arms of him who set it, or, to use the localand better word, "toiled" it.

  Having completed these arrangements, Tim sprang through the adjoininghedge of his father's garden, ran down the path, and softly entered thehouse.

  Obedient to his order, Suke had gone to bed; and as soon as he hadbolted the door, Tim unlaced and kicked off his boots at the foot ofthe stairs, and retired likewise, without lighting a candle. His objectseemed to be to undress as soon as possible. Before, however, he hadcompleted the operation, a long cry resounded without--penetrating, butindescribable.

  "What's that?" said Suke, starting up in bed.

  "Sounds as if somebody had caught a hare in his gin."

  "Oh no," said she. "It was not a hare, 'twas louder. Hark!"

  "Do 'ee get to sleep," said Tim. "How be you going to wake athalf-past three else?"

  She lay down and was silent. Tim stealthily opened the window andlistened. Above the low harmonies produced by the instrumentation ofthe various species of trees around the premises he could hear thetwitching of a chain from the spot whereon he had set the man-trap.But further human sound there was none.

  Tim was puzzled. In the haste of his project he had not calculatedupon a cry; but if one, why not more? He soon ceased to essay ananswer, for Hintock was dead to him already. In half a dozen hours hewould be out of its precincts for life, on his way to the antipodes.He closed the window and lay down.

  The hour which had brought these movements of Tim to birth had beenoperating actively elsewhere. Awaiting in her father's house theminute of her appointment with her husband, Grace Fitzpiers deliberatedon many things. Should she inform her father before going out that theestrangement of herself and Edgar was not so complete as he hadimagined, and deemed desirable for her happiness? If she did so shemust in some measure become the apologist of her husband, and she wasnot prepared to go so far.

  As for him, he kept her in a mood of considerate gravity. He certainlyhad changed. He had at his worst times always been gentle in hismanner towards her. Could it be that she might make of him a true andworthy husband yet? She had married him; there was no getting overthat; and ought she any longer to keep him at a distance? His suavedeference to her lightest whim on the question of his comings andgoings, when as her lawful husband he might show a little independence,was a trait in his character as unexpected as it was engaging. If shehad been his empress, and he her thrall, he could not have exhibited amore sensitive care to avoid intruding upon her against her will.

  Impelled by a remembrance she took down a prayer-book and turned to themarriage-service. Reading it slowly through, she became quite appalledat her recent off-handedness, when she rediscovered what awfully solemnpromises she had made him at those chancel steps not so very long ago.

  She became lost in long ponderings on how far a person's consciencemight be bound by vows made without at the time a full recognition oftheir force. That particular sentence, beginning "Whom God hath joinedtogether," was a staggerer for a gentlewoman of strong devotionalsentiment. She wondered whether God really did join them together.Before she had done deliberating the time of her engagement drew near,and she went out of t
he house almost at the moment that Tim Tangsretired to his own.

  The position of things at that critical juncture was briefly as follows.

  Two hundred yards to the right of the upper end of Tangs's gardenFitzpiers was still advancing, having now nearly reached the summit ofthe wood-clothed ridge, the path being the actual one which further onpassed between the two young oaks. Thus far it was according to Tim'sconjecture. But about two hundred yards to the left, or rather less,was arising a condition which he had not divined, the emergence ofGrace as aforesaid from the upper corner of her father's garden, withthe view of meeting Tim's intended victim. Midway between husband andwife was the diabolical trap, silent, open, ready.

  Fitzpiers's walk that night had been cheerful, for he was convincedthat the slow and gentle method he had adopted was promising success.The very restraint that he was obliged to exercise upon himself, so asnot to kill the delicate bud of returning confidence, fed his flame.He walked so much more rapidly than Grace that, if they continuedadvancing as they had begun, he would reach the trap a good half-minutebefore she could reach the same spot.

  But here a new circumstance came in; to escape the unpleasantness ofbeing watched or listened to by lurkers--naturally curious by reason oftheir strained relations--they had arranged that their meeting forto-night should be at the holm-tree on the ridge above named. So soon,accordingly, as Fitzpiers reached the tree he stood still to await her.

  He had not paused under the prickly foliage more than two minutes whenhe thought he heard a scream from the other side of the ridge.Fitzpiers wondered what it could mean; but such wind as there was justnow blew in an adverse direction, and his mood was light. He set downthe origin of the sound to one of the superstitious freaks orfrolicsome scrimmages between sweethearts that still survived inHintock from old-English times; and waited on where he stood till tenminutes had passed. Feeling then a little uneasy, his mind reverted tothe scream; and he went forward over the summit and down the emboweredincline, till he reached the pair of sister oaks with the narrowopening between them.

  Fitzpiers stumbled and all but fell. Stretching down his hand toascertain the obstruction, it came in contact with a confused mass ofsilken drapery and iron-work that conveyed absolutely no explanatoryidea to his mind at all. It was but the work of a moment to strike amatch; and then he saw a sight which congealed his blood.

  The man-trap was thrown; and between its jaws was part of a woman'sclothing--a patterned silk skirt--gripped with such violence that theiron teeth had passed through it, skewering its tissue in a score ofplaces. He immediately recognized the skirt as that of one of hiswife's gowns--the gown that she had worn when she met him on the verylast occasion.

  Fitzpiers had often studied the effect of these instruments whenexamining the collection at Hintock House, and the conception instantlyflashed through him that Grace had been caught, taken out mangled bysome chance passer, and carried home, some of her clothes being leftbehind in the difficulty of getting her free. The shock of thisconviction, striking into the very current of high hope, was so greatthat he cried out like one in corporal agony, and in his misery bowedhimself down to the ground.

  Of all the degrees and qualities of punishment that Fitzpiers hadundergone since his sins against Grace first began, not any evenapproximated in intensity to this.

  "Oh, my own--my darling! Oh, cruel Heaven--it is too much, this!" hecried, writhing and rocking himself over the sorry accessaries of herhe deplored.

  The voice of his distress was sufficiently loud to be audible to anyone who might have been there to hear it; and one there was. Right andleft of the narrow pass between the oaks were dense bushes; and nowfrom behind these a female figure glided, whose appearance even in thegloom was, though graceful in outline, noticeably strange.

  She was in white up to the waist, and figured above. She was, inshort, Grace, his wife, lacking the portion of her dress which the ginretained.

  "Don't be grieved about me--don't, dear Edgar!" she exclaimed, rushingup and bending over him. "I am not hurt a bit! I was coming on to findyou after I had released myself, but I heard footsteps; and I hid away,because I was without some of my clothing, and I did not know who theperson might be."

  Fitzpiers had sprung to his feet, and his next act was no lessunpremeditated by him than it was irresistible by her, and would havebeen so by any woman not of Amazonian strength. He clasped his armscompletely round, pressed her to his breast, and kissed herpassionately.

  "You are not dead!--you are not hurt! Thank God--thank God!" he said,almost sobbing in his delight and relief from the horror of hisapprehension. "Grace, my wife, my love, how is this--what hashappened?"

  "I was coming on to you," she said as distinctly as she could in thehalf-smothered state of her face against his. "I was trying to be aspunctual as possible, and as I had started a minute late I ran alongthe path very swiftly--fortunately for myself. Just when I had passedbetween these trees I felt something clutch at my dress from behindwith a noise, and the next moment I was pulled backward by it, and fellto the ground. I screamed with terror, thinking it was a man lyingdown there to murder me, but the next moment I discovered it was iron,and that my clothes were caught in a trap. I pulled this way and that,but the thing would not let go, drag it as I would, and I did not knowwhat to do. I did not want to alarm my father or anybody, as I wishednobody to know of these meetings with you; so I could think of no otherplan than slipping off my skirt, meaning to run on and tell you what astrange accident had happened to me. But when I had just freed myselfby leaving the dress behind, I heard steps, and not being sure it wasyou, I did not like to be seen in such a pickle, so I hid away."

  "It was only your speed that saved you! One or both of your legs wouldhave been broken if you had come at ordinary walking pace."

  "Or yours, if you had got here first," said she, beginning to realizethe whole ghastliness of the possibility. "Oh, Edgar, there has beenan Eye watching over us to-night, and we should be thankful indeed!"

  He continued to press his face to hers. "You are mine--mine again now."

  She gently owned that she supposed she was. "I heard what you saidwhen you thought I was injured," she went on, shyly, "and I know that aman who could suffer as you were suffering must have a tender regardfor me. But how does this awful thing come here?"

  "I suppose it has something to do with poachers." Fitzpiers was stillso shaken by the sense of her danger that he was obliged to sit awhile,and it was not until Grace said, "If I could only get my skirt outnobody would know anything about it," that he bestirred himself.

  By their united efforts, each standing on one of the springs of thetrap, they pressed them down sufficiently to insert across the jaws abillet which they dragged from a faggot near at hand; and it was thenpossible to extract the silk mouthful from the monster's bite, creasedand pierced with many holes, but not torn. Fitzpiers assisted her toput it on again; and when her customary contours were thus restoredthey walked on together, Grace taking his arm, till he effected animprovement by clasping it round her waist.

  The ice having been broken in this unexpected manner, she made nofurther attempt at reserve. "I would ask you to come into the house,"she said, "but my meetings with you have been kept secret from myfather, and I should like to prepare him."

  "Never mind, dearest. I could not very well have accepted theinvitation. I shall never live here again--as much for your sake asfor mine. I have news to tell you on this very point, but my alarm hadput it out of my head. I have bought a practice, or rather apartnership, in the Midlands, and I must go there in a week to take uppermanent residence. My poor old great-aunt died about eight monthsago, and left me enough to do this. I have taken a little furnishedhouse for a time, till we can get one of our own."

  He described the place, and the surroundings, and the view from thewindows, and Grace became much interested. "But why are you not therenow?" she said.

  "Because I cannot tear myself away from here till
I have your promise.Now, darling, you will accompany me there--will you not? To-night hassettled that."

  Grace's tremblings had gone off, and she did not say nay. They went ontogether.

  The adventure, and the emotions consequent upon the reunion which thatevent had forced on, combined to render Grace oblivious of thedirection of their desultory ramble, till she noticed they were in anencircled glade in the densest part of the wood, whereon the moon, thathad imperceptibly added its rays to the scene, shone almost vertically.It was an exceptionally soft, balmy evening for the time of year, whichwas just that transient period in the May month when beech-trees havesuddenly unfolded large limp young leaves of the softness ofbutterflies' wings. Boughs bearing such leaves hung low around, andcompletely enclosed them, so that it was as if they were in a greatgreen vase, which had moss for its bottom and leaf sides.

  The clouds having been packed in the west that evening so as to retainthe departing glare a long while, the hour had seemed much earlier thanit was. But suddenly the question of time occurred to her.

  "I must go back," she said; and without further delay they set theirfaces towards Hintock. As they walked he examined his watch by the aidof the now strong moonlight.

  "By the gods, I think I have lost my train!" said Fitzpiers.

  "Dear me--whereabouts are we?" said she.

  "Two miles in the direction of Sherton."

  "Then do you hasten on, Edgar. I am not in the least afraid. Irecognize now the part of the wood we are in and I can find my way backquite easily. I'll tell my father that we have made it up. I wish Ihad not kept our meetings so private, for it may vex him a little toknow I have been seeing you. He is getting old and irritable, that waswhy I did not. Good-by."

  "But, as I must stay at the Earl of Wessex to-night, for I cannotpossibly catch the train, I think it would be safer for you to let metake care of you."

  "But what will my father think has become of me? He does not know inthe least where I am--he thinks I only went into the garden for a fewminutes."

  "He will surely guess--somebody has seen me for certain. I'll go allthe way back with you to-morrow."

  "But that newly done-up place--the Earl of Wessex!"

  "If you are so very particular about the publicity I will stay at theThree Tuns."

  "Oh no--it is not that I am particular--but I haven't a brush or combor anything!"