by Thomas Hardy
XI
Why had Lady Constantine stopped and turned?
A misgiving had taken sudden possession of her. Her true sentimenttowards St. Cleeve was too recognizable by herself to be tolerated.
That she had a legitimate interest in him as a young astronomer was true;that her sympathy on account of his severe illness had been natural andcommendable was also true. But the superfluous feeling was what filledher with trepidation.
Superfluities have been defined as things you cannot do without, and thisparticular emotion, that came not within her rightful measure, was indanger of becoming just such a superfluity with her. In short, she feltthere and then that to see St. Cleeve again would be an impropriety; andby a violent effort she retreated from his precincts, as he had observed.
She resolved to ennoble her conduct from that moment of her life onwards.She would exercise kind patronage towards Swithin without once indulgingherself with his company. Inexpressibly dear to her deserted heart hewas becoming, but for the future he should at least be hidden from hereyes. To speak plainly, it was growing a serious question whether, if hewere not hidden from her eyes, she would not soon be plunging across theragged boundary which divides the permissible from the forbidden.
By the time that she had drawn near home the sun was going down. Theheavy, many-chevroned church, now subdued by violet shadow except whereits upper courses caught the western stroke of flame-colour, stood closeto her grounds, as in many other parishes, though the village of which itformerly was the nucleus had become quite depopulated: its cottages hadbeen demolished to enlarge the park, leaving the old building to standthere alone, like a standard without an army.
It was Friday night, and she heard the organist practising voluntarieswithin. The hour, the notes, the even-song of the birds, and her ownprevious emotions, combined to influence her devotionally. She entered,turning to the right and passing under the chancel arch, where she satdown and viewed the whole empty length, east and west. The semi-Normanarches of the nave, with their multitudinous notchings, were stillvisible by the light from the tower window, but the lower portion of thebuilding was in obscurity, except where the feeble glimmer from thecandle of the organist spread a glow-worm radiance around. The player,who was Miss Tabitha Lark, continued without intermission to produce herwandering sounds, unconscious of any one's presence except that of theyouthful blower at her side.
The rays from the organist's candle illuminated but one small fragment ofthe chancel outside the precincts of the instrument, and that was theportion of the eastern wall whereon the ten commandments were inscribed.The gilt letters shone sternly into Lady Constantine's eyes; and she,being as impressionable as a turtle-dove, watched a certain one of thosecommandments on the second table, till its thunder broke her spirit withblank contrition.
She knelt down, and did her utmost to eradicate those impulses towardsSt. Cleeve which were inconsistent with her position as the wife of anabsent man, though not unnatural in her as his victim.
She knelt till she seemed scarcely to belong to the time she lived in,which lost the magnitude that the nearness of its perspective lent it onordinary occasions, and took its actual rank in the long line of othercenturies. Having once got out of herself, seen herself from afar off,she was calmer, and went on to register a magnanimous vow. She wouldlook about for some maiden fit and likely to make St. Cleeve happy; andthis girl she would endow with what money she could afford, that thenatural result of their apposition should do him no worldly harm. Theinterest of her, Lady Constantine's, life should be in watching thedevelopment of love between Swithin and the ideal maiden. The verypainfulness of the scheme to her susceptible heart made it pleasing toher conscience; and she wondered that she had not before this timethought of a stratagem which united the possibility of benefiting theastronomer with the advantage of guarding against peril to both Swithinand herself. By providing for him a suitable helpmate she would precludethe dangerous awakening in him of sentiments reciprocating her own.
Arrived at a point of exquisite misery through this heroic intention,Lady Constantine's tears moistened the books upon which her forehead wasbowed. And as she heard her feverish heart throb against the desk, shefirmly believed the wearing impulses of that heart would put an end toher sad life, and momentarily recalled the banished image of St. Cleeveto apostrophise him in thoughts that paraphrased the quaint lines ofHeine's _Lieb' Liebchen_:--
'Dear my love, press thy hand to my breast, and tell If thou tracest the knocks in that narrow cell; A carpenter dwells there; cunning is he, And slyly he's shaping a coffin for me!'
Lady Constantine was disturbed by a break in the organist's meanderingpractice, and raising her head she saw a person standing by the player.It was Mr. Torkingham, and what he said was distinctly audible. He wasinquiring for herself.
'I thought I saw Lady Constantine walk this way,' he rejoined toTabitha's negative. 'I am very anxious indeed to meet with her.'
She went forward. 'I am here,' she said. 'Don't stop playing, MissLark. What is it, Mr. Torkingham?'
Tabitha thereupon resumed her playing, and Mr. Torkingham joined LadyConstantine.
'I have some very serious intelligence to break to your ladyship,' hesaid. 'But--I will not interrupt you here.' (He had seen her rise fromher knees to come to him.) 'I will call at the House the first momentyou can receive me after reaching home.'
'No, tell me here,' she said, seating herself.
He came close, and placed his hand on the poppy-head of the seat.
'I have received a communication,' he resumed haltingly, 'in which I amrequested to prepare you for the contents of a letter that you willreceive to-morrow morning.'
'I am quite ready.'
'The subject is briefly this, Lady Constantine: that you have been awidow for more than eighteen months.'
'Dead!'
'Yes. Sir Blount was attacked by dysentery and malarious fever, on thebanks of the Zouga in South Africa, so long ago as last Octobertwelvemonths, and it carried him off. Of the three men who were withhim, two succumbed to the same illness, a hundred miles further on whilethe third, retracing his steps into a healthier district, remained therewith a native tribe, and took no pains to make the circumstances known.It seems to be only by the mere accident of his having told some thirdparty that we know of the matter now. This is all I can tell you atpresent.'
She was greatly agitated for a few moments; and the Table of the Lawopposite, which now seemed to appertain to another dispensation,glistened indistinctly upon a vision still obscured by the old tears.
'Shall I conduct you home?' asked the parson.
'No thank you,' said Lady Constantine. 'I would rather go alone.'
