by Thomas Hardy
V
The purpose of a chronicler of moods and deeds does not require himto express his personal views upon the grave controversy above given.That the twain were happy--between their times of sadness--wasindubitable. And when the unexpected apparition of Jude's childin the house had shown itself to be no such disturbing event as ithad looked, but one that brought into their lives a new and tenderinterest of an ennobling and unselfish kind, it rather helped thaninjured their happiness.
To be sure, with such pleasing anxious beings as they were, the boy'scoming also brought with it much thought for the future, particularlyas he seemed at present to be singularly deficient in all the usualhopes of childhood. But the pair tried to dismiss, for a while atleast, a too strenuously forward view.
There is in Upper Wessex an old town of nine or ten thousand souls;the town may be called Stoke-Barehills. It stands with its gaunt,unattractive, ancient church, and its new red brick suburb, amidthe open, chalk-soiled cornlands, near the middle of an imaginarytriangle which has for its three corners the towns of Aldbrickhamand Wintoncester, and the important military station of Quartershot.The great western highway from London passes through it, near a pointwhere the road branches into two, merely to unite again some twentymiles further westward. Out of this bifurcation and reunion thereused to arise among wheeled travellers, before railway days, endlessquestions of choice between the respective ways. But the questionis now as dead as the scot-and-lot freeholder, the road waggoner,and the mail coachman who disputed it; and probably not a singleinhabitant of Stoke-Barehills is now even aware that the two roadswhich part in his town ever meet again; for nobody now drives up anddown the great western highway dally.
The most familiar object in Stoke-Barehills nowadays is its cemetery,standing among some picturesque mediaeval ruins beside the railway;the modern chapels, modern tombs, and modern shrubs having a look ofintrusiveness amid the crumbling and ivy-covered decay of the ancientwalls.
On a certain day, however, in the particular year which has now beenreached by this narrative--the month being early June--the featuresof the town excite little interest, though many visitors arrive bythe trains; some down-trains, in especial, nearly emptying themselveshere. It is the week of the Great Wessex Agricultural Show, whosevast encampment spreads over the open outskirts of the town likethe tents of an investing army. Rows of marquees, huts, booths,pavilions, arcades, porticoes--every kind of structure short ofa permanent one--cover the green field for the space of a squarehalf-mile, and the crowds of arrivals walk through the town ina mass, and make straight for the exhibition ground. The waythereto is lined with shows, stalls, and hawkers on foot, who makea market-place of the whole roadway to the show proper, and leadsome of the improvident to lighten their pockets appreciably beforethey reach the gates of the exhibition they came expressly to see.
It is the popular day, the shilling day, and of the fast arrivingexcursion trains two from different directions enter the twocontiguous railway stations at almost the same minute. One, likeseveral which have preceded it, comes from London: the other by across-line from Aldbrickham; and from the London train alights acouple; a short, rather bloated man, with a globular stomach andsmall legs, resembling a top on two pegs, accompanied by a woman ofrather fine figure and rather red face, dressed in black material,and covered with beads from bonnet to skirt, that made her glistenas if clad in chain-mail.
They cast their eyes around. The man was about to hire a fly as someothers had done, when the woman said, "Don't be in such a hurry,Cartlett. It isn't so very far to the show-yard. Let us walk downthe street into the place. Perhaps I can pick up a cheap bit offurniture or old china. It is years since I was here--never sinceI lived as a girl at Aldbrickham, and used to come across for a tripsometimes with my young man."
"You can't carry home furniture by excursion train," said, in a thickvoice, her husband, the landlord of The Three Horns, Lambeth; forthey had both come down from the tavern in that "excellent, denselypopulated, gin-drinking neighbourhood," which they had occupied eversince the advertisement in those words had attracted them thither.The configuration of the landlord showed that he, too, like hiscustomers, was becoming affected by the liquors he retailed.
"Then I'll get it sent, if I see any worth having," said his wife.
They sauntered on, but had barely entered the town when her attentionwas attracted by a young couple leading a child, who had come outfrom the second platform, into which the train from Aldbrickham hadsteamed. They were walking just in front of the inn-keepers.
"Sakes alive!" said Arabella.
"What's that?" said Cartlett.
"Who do you think that couple is? Don't you recognize the man?"
"No."
"Not from the photos I have showed you?"
"Is it Fawley?"
"Yes--of course."
"Oh, well. I suppose he was inclined for a little sight-seeing likethe rest of us." Cartlett's interest in Jude whatever it might havebeen when Arabella was new to him, had plainly flagged since hercharms and her idiosyncrasies, her supernumerary hair-coils, and heroptional dimples, were becoming as a tale that is told.
Arabella so regulated her pace and her husband's as to keep just inthe rear of the other three, which it was easy to do without noticein such a stream of pedestrians. Her answers to Cartlett's remarkswere vague and slight, for the group in front interested her morethan all the rest of the spectacle.
"They are rather fond of one another and of their child, seemingly,"continued the publican.
"THEIR child! 'Tisn't their child," said Arabella with a curious,sudden covetousness. "They haven't been married long enough for itto be theirs!"
But although the smouldering maternal instinct was strong enoughin her to lead her to quash her husband's conjecture, she was notdisposed on second thoughts to be more candid than necessary. Mr.Cartlett had no other idea than that his wife's child by her firsthusband was with his grandparents at the Antipodes.
"Oh I suppose not. She looks quite a girl."
"They are only lovers, or lately married, and have the child incharge, as anybody can see."
All continued to move ahead. The unwitting Sue and Jude, the couplein question, had determined to make this agricultural exhibitionwithin twenty miles of their own town the occasion of a day'sexcursion which should combine exercise and amusement withinstruction, at small expense. Not regardful of themselves alone,they had taken care to bring Father Time, to try every means ofmaking him kindle and laugh like other boys, though he was tosome extent a hindrance to the delightfully unreserved intercoursein their pilgrimages which they so much enjoyed. But they soonceased to consider him an observer, and went along with that tenderattention to each other which the shyest can scarcely disguise, andwhich these, among entire strangers as they imagined, took lesstrouble to disguise than they might have done at home. Sue, in hernew summer clothes, flexible and light as a bird, her little thumbstuck up by the stem of her white cotton sunshade, went along as ifshe hardly touched ground, and as if a moderately strong puff of windwould float her over the hedge into the next field. Jude, in hislight grey holiday-suit, was really proud of her companionship, notmore for her external attractiveness than for her sympathetic wordsand ways. That complete mutual understanding, in which every glanceand movement was as effectual as speech for conveying intelligencebetween them, made them almost the two parts of a single whole.
The pair with their charge passed through the turnstiles, Arabellaand her husband not far behind them. When inside the enclosure thepublican's wife could see that the two ahead began to take troublewith the youngster, pointing out and explaining the many objects ofinterest, alive and dead; and a passing sadness would touch theirfaces at their every failure to disturb his indifference.
"How she sticks to him!" said Arabella. "Oh no--I fancy they are notmarried, or they wouldn't be so much to one another as that... Iwonder!"
"But I thought you said he did marry her?"
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br /> "I heard he was going to--that's all, going to make another attempt,after putting it off once or twice... As far as they themselves areconcerned they are the only two in the show. I should be ashamed ofmaking myself so silly if I were he!"
"I don't see as how there's anything remarkable in their behaviour.I should never have noticed their being in love, if you hadn't saidso."
"You never see anything," she rejoined. Nevertheless Cartlett's viewof the lovers' or married pair's conduct was undoubtedly that of thegeneral crowd, whose attention seemed to be in no way attracted bywhat Arabella's sharpened vision discerned.
"He's charmed by her as if she were some fairy!" continued Arabella."See how he looks round at her, and lets his eyes rest on her. I aminclined to think that she don't care for him quite so much as hedoes for her. She's not a particular warm-hearted creature to mythinking, though she cares for him pretty middling much--as much asshe's able to; and he could make her heart ache a bit if he liked totry--which he's too simple to do. There--now they are going acrossto the cart-horse sheds. Come along."
"I don't want to see the cart-horses. It is no business of ours tofollow these two. If we have come to see the show let us see it inour own way, as they do in theirs."
"Well--suppose we agree to meet somewhere in an hour's time--say atthat refreshment tent over there, and go about independent? Then youcan look at what you choose to, and so can I."
Cartlett was not loath to agree to this, and they parted--heproceeding to the shed where malting processes were being exhibited,and Arabella in the direction taken by Jude and Sue. Before,however, she had regained their wake a laughing face met her own,and she was confronted by Anny, the friend of her girlhood.
Anny had burst out in hearty laughter at the mere fact of the chanceencounter. "I am still living down there," she said, as soon asshe was composed. "I am soon going to be married, but my intendedcouldn't come up here to-day. But there's lots of us come byexcursion, though I've lost the rest of 'em for the present."
"Have you met Jude and his young woman, or wife, or whatever she is?I saw 'em by now."
"No. Not a glimpse of un for years!"
"Well, they are close by here somewhere. Yes--there they are--bythat grey horse!"
"Oh, that's his present young woman--wife did you say? Has hemarried again?"
"I don't know."
"She's pretty, isn't she!"
"Yes--nothing to complain of; or jump at. Not much to depend on,though; a slim, fidgety little thing like that."
"He's a nice-looking chap, too! You ought to ha' stuck to un,Arabella."
"I don't know but I ought," murmured she.
Anny laughed. "That's you, Arabella! Always wanting another manthan your own."
"Well, and what woman don't I should like to know? As for that bodywith him--she don't know what love is--at least what I call love! Ican see in her face she don't."
"And perhaps, Abby dear, you don't know what she calls love."
"I'm sure I don't wish to! ... Ah--they are making for the artdepartment. I should like to see some pictures myself. Supposewe go that way?-- Why, if all Wessex isn't here, I verily believe!There's Dr. Vilbert. Haven't seen him for years, and he's notlooking a day older than when I used to know him. How do you do,Physician? I was just saying that you don't look a day older thanwhen you knew me as a girl."
"Simply the result of taking my own pills regular, ma'am. Only twoand threepence a box--warranted efficacious by the Government stamp.Now let me advise you to purchase the same immunity from the ravagesof time by following my example? Only two-and-three."
The physician had produced a box from his waistcoat pocket, andArabella was induced to make the purchase.
"At the same time," continued he, when the pills were paid for, "youhave the advantage of me, Mrs.-- Surely not Mrs. Fawley, once MissDonn, of the vicinity of Marygreen?"
"Yes. But Mrs. Cartlett now."
"Ah--you lost him, then? Promising young fellow! A pupil of mine,you know. I taught him the dead languages. And believe me, he soonknew nearly as much as I."
"I lost him; but not as you think," said Arabella dryly. "Thelawyers untied us. There he is, look, alive and lusty; along withthat young woman, entering the art exhibition."
"Ah--dear me! Fond of her, apparently."
"They SAY they are cousins."
"Cousinship is a great convenience to their feelings, I should say?"
"Yes. So her husband thought, no doubt, when he divorcedher... Shall we look at the pictures, too?"
The trio followed across the green and entered. Jude and Sue, withthe child, unaware of the interest they were exciting, had goneup to a model at one end of the building, which they regardedwith considerable attention for a long while before they wenton. Arabella and her friends came to it in due course, and theinscription it bore was: "Model of Cardinal College, Christminster;by J. Fawley and S. F. M. Bridehead."
"Admiring their own work," said Arabella. "How like Jude--alwaysthinking of colleges and Christminster, instead of attending to hisbusiness!"
They glanced cursorily at the pictures, and proceeded to theband-stand. When they had stood a little while listening to themusic of the military performers, Jude, Sue, and the child came up onthe other side. Arabella did not care if they should recognize her;but they were too deeply absorbed in their own lives, as translatedinto emotion by the military band, to perceive her under her beadedveil. She walked round the outside of the listening throng, passingbehind the lovers, whose movements had an unexpected fascination forher to-day. Scrutinizing them narrowly from the rear she noticedthat Jude's hand sought Sue's as they stood, the two standing closetogether so as to conceal, as they supposed, this tacit expressionof their mutual responsiveness.
"Silly fools--like two children!" Arabella whispered to herselfmorosely, as she rejoined her companions, with whom she preserved apreoccupied silence.
Anny meanwhile had jokingly remarked to Vilbert on Arabella'shankering interest in her first husband.
"Now," said the physician to Arabella, apart; "do you want anythingsuch as this, Mrs. Cartlett? It is not compounded out of my regularpharmacopoeia, but I am sometimes asked for such a thing." Heproduced a small phial of clear liquid. "A love-philtre, such as wasused by the ancients with great effect. I found it out by study oftheir writings, and have never known it to fail."
"What is it made of?" asked Arabella curiously.
"Well--a distillation of the juices of doves' hearts--otherwisepigeons'--is one of the ingredients. It took nearly a hundred heartsto produce that small bottle full."
"How do you get pigeons enough?"
"To tell a secret, I get a piece of rock-salt, of which pigeons areinordinately fond, and place it in a dovecot on my roof. In a fewhours the birds come to it from all points of the compass--east,west, north, and south--and thus I secure as many as I require.You use the liquid by contriving that the desired man shall takeabout ten drops of it in his drink. But remember, all this is toldyou because I gather from your questions that you mean to be apurchaser. You must keep faith with me?"
"Very well--I don't mind a bottle--to give some friend or other totry it on her young man." She produced five shillings, the priceasked, and slipped the phial in her capacious bosom. Sayingpresently that she was due at an appointment with her husband, shesauntered away towards the refreshment bar, Jude, his companion, andthe child having gone on to the horticultural tent, where Arabellacaught a glimpse of them standing before a group of roses in bloom.
She waited a few minutes observing them, and then proceeded to joinher spouse with no very amiable sentiments. She found him seated ona stool by the bar, talking to one of the gaily dressed maids who hadserved him with spirits.
"I should think you had enough of this business at home!" Arabellaremarked gloomily. "Surely you didn't come fifty miles from your ownbar to stick in another? Come, take me round the show, as other mendo their wives! Dammy
, one would think you were a young bachelor,with nobody to look after but yourself!"
"But we agreed to meet here; and what could I do but wait?"
"Well, now we have met, come along," she returned, ready to quarrelwith the sun for shining on her. And they left the tent together,this pot-bellied man and florid woman, in the antipathetic,recriminatory mood of the average husband and wife of Christendom.
In the meantime the more exceptional couple and the boy stilllingered in the pavilion of flowers--an enchanted palace to theirappreciative taste--Sue's usually pale cheeks reflecting the pink ofthe tinted roses at which she gazed; for the gay sights, the air, themusic, and the excitement of a day's outing with Jude had quickenedher blood and made her eyes sparkle with vivacity. She adored roses,and what Arabella had witnessed was Sue detaining Jude almost againsthis will while she learnt the names of this variety and that, and puther face within an inch of their blooms to smell them.
"I should like to push my face quite into them--the dears!" she hadsaid. "But I suppose it is against the rules to touch them--isn'tit, Jude?"
"Yes, you baby," said he: and then playfully gave her a little push,so that her nose went among the petals.
"The policeman will be down on us, and I shall say it was myhusband's fault!"
Then she looked up at him, and smiled in a way that told so much toArabella.
"Happy?" he murmured.
She nodded.
"Why? Because you have come to the great Wessex AgriculturalShow--or because WE have come?"
"You are always trying to make me confess to all sorts ofabsurdities. Because I am improving my mind, of course, by seeingall these steam-ploughs, and threshing-machines, and chaff-cutters,and cows, and pigs, and sheep."
Jude was quite content with a baffle from his ever evasive companion.But when he had forgotten that he had put the question, and becausehe no longer wished for an answer, she went on: "I feel that we havereturned to Greek joyousness, and have blinded ourselves to sicknessand sorrow, and have forgotten what twenty-five centuries have taughtthe race since their time, as one of your Christminster luminariessays... There is one immediate shadow, however--only one." Andshe looked at the aged child, whom, though they had taken him toeverything likely to attract a young intelligence, they had utterlyfailed to interest.
He knew what they were saying and thinking. "I am very, very sorry,Father and Mother," he said. "But please don't mind!--I can't helpit. I should like the flowers very very much, if I didn't keep onthinking they'd be all withered in a few days!"
