Two on a Tower

by Thomas Hardy

  XXXII

  What to do she could not tell. The step which Swithin had entreated herto take, objectionable and premature as it had seemed in a county aspect,would at all events have saved her from this dilemma. Had she allowedhim to tell the Bishop his simple story in its fulness, who could say butthat that divine might have generously bridled his own impulses, enteredinto the case with sympathy, and forwarded with zest their designs forthe future, owing to his interest of old in Swithin's father, and in thenaturally attractive features of the young man's career.

  A puff of wind from the open window, wafting the Bishop's letter to thefloor, aroused her from her reverie. With a sigh she stooped and pickedit up, glanced at it again; then arose, and with the deliberateness ofinevitable action wrote her reply:--

  'WELLAND HOUSE, _June_ 29, 18--.

  'MY DEAR BISHOP OF MELCHESTER,--I confess to you that your letter, so gracious and flattering as it is, has taken your friend somewhat unawares. The least I can do in return for its contents is to reply as quickly as possible.

  'There is no one in the world who esteems your high qualities more than myself, or who has greater faith in your ability to adorn the episcopal seat that you have been called on to fill. But to your question I can give only one reply, and that is an unqualified negative. To state this unavoidable decision distresses me, without affectation and I trust you will believe that, though I decline the distinction of becoming your wife, I shall never cease to interest myself in all that pertains to you and your office; and shall feel the keenest regret if this refusal should operate to prevent a lifelong friendship between us.--I am, my dear Bishop of Melchester, ever sincerely yours,

  'VIVIETTE CONSTANTINE.'

  A sudden revulsion from the subterfuge of writing as if she were still awidow, wrought in her mind a feeling of dissatisfaction with the wholescheme of concealment; and pushing aside the letter she allowed it toremain unfolded and unaddressed. In a few minutes she heard Swithinapproaching, when she put the letter out of the way and turned to receivehim.

  Swithin entered quietly, and looked round the room. Seeing withunexpected pleasure that she was there alone, he came over and kissedher. Her discomposure at some foregone event was soon obvious.

  'Has my staying caused you any trouble?' he asked in a whisper. 'Whereis your brother this morning?'

  She smiled through her perplexity as she took his hand. 'The oddestthings happen to me, dear Swithin,' she said. 'Do you wish particularlyto know what has happened now?'

  'Yes, if you don't mind telling me.'

  'I do mind telling you. But I must. Among other things I am resolvingto give way to your representations,--in part, at least. It will be bestto tell the Bishop everything, and my brother, if not other people.'

  'I am truly glad to hear it, Viviette,' said he cheerfully. 'I have feltfor a long time that honesty is the best policy.'

  'I at any rate feel it now. But it is a policy that requires a greatdeal of courage!'

  'It certainly requires some courage,--I should not say a great deal; andindeed, as far as I am concerned, it demands less courage to speak outthan to hold my tongue.'

  'But, you silly boy, you don't know what has happened. The Bishop hasmade me an offer of marriage.'

  'Good gracious, what an impertinent old man! What have you done aboutit, dearest?'

  'Well, I have hardly accepted him,' she replied, laughing. 'It is thisevent which has suggested to me that I should make my refusal a reasonfor confiding our situation to him.'

  'What would you have done if you had not been already appropriated?'

  'That's an inscrutable mystery. He is a worthy man; but he has verypronounced views about his own position, and some other undesirablequalities. Still, who knows? You must bless your stars that you havesecured me. Now let us consider how to draw up our confession to him. Iwish I had listened to you at first, and allowed you to take him into ourconfidence before his declaration arrived. He may possibly resent theconcealment now. However, this cannot be helped.'

  'I tell you what, Viviette,' said Swithin, after a thoughtful pause, 'ifthe Bishop is such an earthly sort of man as this, a man who goes fallingin love, and wanting to marry you, and so on, I am not disposed toconfess anything to him at all. I fancied him altogether different fromthat.'

  'But he's none the worse for it, dear.'

  'I think he is--to lecture me and love you, all in one breath!'

  'Still, that's only a passing phase; and you first proposed making aconfidant of him.'

  'I did. . . . Very well. Then we are to tell nobody but the Bishop?'

  'And my brother Louis. I must tell him; it is unavoidable. He suspectsme in a way I could never have credited of him!'

  Swithin, as was before stated, had arranged to start for Greenwich thatmorning, permission having been accorded him by the Astronomer-Royal toview the Observatory; and their final decision was that, as he could notafford time to sit down with her, and write to the Bishop incollaboration, each should, during the day, compose a well-consideredletter, disclosing their position from his and her own point of view;Lady Constantine leading up to her confession by her refusal of theBishop's hand. It was necessary that she should know what Swithincontemplated saying, that her statements might precisely harmonize. Heultimately agreed to send her his letter by the next morning's post,when, having read it, she would in due course despatch it with her own.

  As soon as he had breakfasted Swithin went his way, promising to returnfrom Greenwich by the end of the week.

  Viviette passed the remainder of that long summer day, during which heryoung husband was receding towards the capital, in an almost motionlessstate. At some instants she felt exultant at the idea of announcing hermarriage and defying general opinion. At another her heart misgave her,and she was tormented by a fear lest Swithin should some day accuse herof having hampered his deliberately-shaped plan of life by her intrusiveromanticism. That was often the trick of men who had sealed by marriage,in their inexperienced youth, a love for those whom their maturerjudgment would have rejected as too obviously disproportionate in years.

  However, it was now too late for these lugubrious thoughts; and, bracingherself, she began to frame the new reply to Bishop Helmsdale--the plain,unvarnished tale that was to supplant the undivulging answer firstwritten. She was engaged on this difficult problem till daylight fadedin the west, and the broad-faced moon edged upwards, like a plate of oldgold, over the elms towards the village. By that time Swithin hadreached Greenwich; her brother had gone she knew not whither; and she andloneliness dwelt solely, as before, within the walls of Welland House.

  At this hour of sunset and moonrise the new parlourmaid entered, toinform her that Mr. Cecil's head clerk, from Warborne, particularlywished to see her.

  Mr. Cecil was her solicitor, and she knew of nothing whatever thatrequired his intervention just at present. But he would not have sent atthis time of day without excellent reasons, and she directed that theyoung man might be shown in where she was. On his entry the first thingshe noticed was that in his hand he carried a newspaper.

  'In case you should not have seen this evening's paper, Lady Constantine,Mr. Cecil has directed me to bring it to you at once, on account of whatappears there in relation to your ladyship. He has only just seen ithimself.'

  'What is it? How does it concern me?'

  'I will point it out.'

  'Read it yourself to me. Though I am afraid there's not enough light.'

  'I can see very well here,' said the lawyer's clerk stepping to thewindow. Folding back the paper he read:--

  '"NEWS FROM SOUTH AFRICA.

  '"CAPE TOWN, _May_ 17 (_via_ Plymouth).--A correspondent of the _Cape Chronicle_ states that he has interviewed an Englishman just arrived from the interior, and learns from him that a considerable misapprehension exists in England concerning the death of the traveller and hunter, Sir Blount Constantine--"'
>
  'O, he's living! My husband is alive,' she cried, sinking down in nearlya fainting condition.

  'No, my lady. Sir Blount is dead enough, I am sorry to say.'

  'Dead, did you say?'

  'Certainly, Lady Constantine; there is no doubt of it.'

  She sat up, and her intense relief almost made itself perceptible like afresh atmosphere in the room. 'Yes. Then what did you come for?' sheasked calmly.

  'That Sir Blount has died is unquestionable,' replied the lawyer's clerkgently. 'But there has been some mistake about the date of his death.'

  'He died of malarious fever on the banks of the Zouga, October 24, 18--.'

  'No; he only lay ill there a long time it seems. It was a companion whodied at that date. But I'll read the account to your ladyship, with yourpermission:--

  '"The decease of this somewhat eccentric wanderer did not occur at the time hitherto supposed, but only in last December. The following is the account of the Englishman alluded to, given as nearly as possible in his own words: During the illness of Sir Blount and his friend by the Zouga, three of the servants went away, taking with them a portion of his clothing and effects; and it must be they who spread the report of his death at this time. After his companion's death he mended, and when he was strong enough he and I travelled on to a healthier district. I urged him not to delay his return to England; but he was much against going back there again, and became so rough in his manner towards me that we parted company at the first opportunity I could find. I joined a party of white traders returning to the West Coast. I stayed here among the Portuguese for many months. I then found that an English travelling party were going to explore a district adjoining that which I had formerly traversed with Sir Blount. They said they would be glad of my services, and I joined them. When we had crossed the territory to the South of Ulunda, and drew near to Marzambo, I heard tidings of a man living there whom I suspected to be Sir Blount, although he was not known by that name. Being so near I was induced to seek him out, and found that he was indeed the same. He had dropped his old name altogether, and had married a native princess--"'

  'Married a native princess!' said Lady Constantine.

  'That's what it says, my lady,--"married a native princess according tothe rites of the tribe, and was living very happily with her. He told mehe should never return to England again. He also told me that havingseen this princess just after I had left him, he had been attracted byher, and had thereupon decided to reside with her in that country, asbeing a land which afforded him greater happiness than he could hope toattain elsewhere. He asked me to stay with him, instead of going on withmy party, and not reveal his real title to any of them. After somehesitation I did stay, and was not uncomfortable at first. But I soonfound that Sir Blount drank much harder now than when I had known him,and that he was at times very greatly depressed in mind at his position.One morning in the middle of December last I heard a shot from hisdwelling. His wife rushed frantically past me as I hastened to the spot,and when I entered I found that he had put an end to himself with hisrevolver. His princess was broken-hearted all that day. When we hadburied him I discovered in his house a little box directed to hissolicitors at Warborne, in England, and a note for myself, saying that Ihad better get the first chance of returning that offered, and requestingme to take the box with me. It is supposed to contain papers andarticles for friends in England who have deemed him dead for some time."'

  The clerk stopped his reading, and there was a silence. 'The middle oflast December,' she at length said, in a whisper. 'Has the box arrivedyet?'

  'Not yet, my lady. We have no further proof of anything. As soon as thepackage comes to hand you shall know of it immediately.'

  Such was the clerk's mission and, leaving the paper with her, hewithdrew. The intelligence amounted to thus much: that, Sir Blounthaving been alive till at least six weeks after her marriage with SwithinSt. Cleeve, Swithin St. Cleeve was not her husband in the eye of the law;that she would have to consider how her marriage with the latter might beinstantly repeated, to establish herself legally as that young man'swife.