Two on a Tower

by Thomas Hardy

  XXXVI

  The immediate effect upon St. Cleeve of the receipt of her well-reasonedargument for retrocession was, naturally, a bitter attack upon himselffor having been guilty of such cruel carelessness as to leave in her waythe lawyer's letter that had first made her aware of his uncle'sprovision for him. Immature as he was, he could realize Viviette'sposition sufficiently well to perceive what the poor lady must suffer athaving suddenly thrust upon her the responsibility of repairing her ownsituation as a wife by ruining his as a legatee. True, it was by thepurest inadvertence that his pending sacrifice of means had beendiscovered; but he should have taken special pains to render such amishap impossible. If on the first occasion, when a revelation mighthave been made with impunity, he would not put it in the power of hergood nature to relieve his position by refusing him, he should have showndouble care not to do so now, when she could not exercise thatbenevolence without the loss of honour.

  With a young man's inattention to issues he had not considered how sharpher feelings as a woman must be in this contingency. It had seemed theeasiest thing in the world to remedy the defect in their marriage, andtherefore nothing to be anxious about. And in his innocence of anythought of appropriating the bequest by taking advantage of the loopholein his matrimonial bond, he undervalued the importance of concealing theexistence of that bequest.

  The looming fear of unhappiness between them revived in Swithin the warmemotions of their earlier acquaintance. Almost before the sun had set hehastened to Welland House in search of her. The air was disturbed bystiff summer blasts, productive of windfalls and premature descents ofleafage. It was an hour when unripe apples shower down in orchards, andunbrowned chestnuts descend in their husks upon the park glades. Therewas no help for it this afternoon but to call upon her in a directmanner, regardless of suspicions. He was thunderstruck when, whilewaiting in the full expectation of being admitted to her presence, theanswer brought back to him was that she was unable to see him.

  This had never happened before in the whole course of their acquaintance.But he knew what it meant, and turned away with a vague disquietude. Hedid not know that Lady Constantine was just above his head, listening tohis movements with the liveliest emotions, and, while praying for him togo, longing for him to insist on seeing her and spoil all. But thefaintest symptom being always sufficient to convince him of havingblundered, he unwittingly took her at her word, and went rapidly away.

  However, he called again the next day, and she, having gained strength byone victory over herself, was enabled to repeat her refusal with greaterease. Knowing this to be the only course by which her point could bemaintained, she clung to it with strenuous and religious pertinacity.

  Thus immured and self-controlling she passed a week. Her brother, thoughhe did not live in the house (preferring the nearest watering-place atthis time of the year), was continually coming there; and one day hehappened to be present when she denied herself to Swithin for the thirdtime. Louis, who did not observe the tears in her eyes, was astonishedand delighted: she was coming to her senses at last. Believing now thatthere had been nothing more between them than a too-plainly shownpartiality on her part, he expressed his commendation of her conduct toher face. At this, instead of owning to its advantage also, her tearsburst forth outright.

  Not knowing what to make of this, Louis said--

  'Well, I am simply upholding you in your course.'

  'Yes, yes; I know it!' she cried. 'And it is my deliberately chosencourse. I wish he--Swithin St. Cleeve--would go on his travels at once,and leave the place! Six hundred a year has been left him for travel andstudy of the southern constellations; and I wish he would use it. Youmight represent the advantage to him of the course if you cared to.'

  Louis thought he could do no better than let Swithin know this as soon aspossible. Accordingly when St. Cleeve was writing in the hut the nextday he heard the crackle of footsteps over the fir-needles outside, andjumped up, supposing them to be hers; but, to his disappointment, it washer brother who appeared at the door.

  'Excuse my invading the hermitage, St. Cleeve,' he said in his carelessway, 'but I have heard from my sister of your good fortune.'

  'My good fortune?'

  'Yes, in having an opportunity for roving; and with a traveller's conceitI couldn't help coming to give you the benefit of my experience. When doyou start?'

  'I have not formed any plan as yet. Indeed, I had not quite beenthinking of going.'

  Louis stared.

  'Not going? Then I may have been misinformed. What I have heard is thata good uncle has kindly bequeathed you a sufficient income to make asecond Isaac Newton of you, if you only use it as he directs.'

  Swithin breathed quickly, but said nothing.

  'If you have not decided so to make use of it, let me implore you, asyour friend, and one nearly old enough to be your father, to decide atonce. Such a chance does not happen to a scientific youth once in acentury.'

  'Thank you for your good advice--for it is good in itself, I know,' saidSwithin, in a low voice. 'But has Lady Constantine spoken of it at all?'

  'She thinks as I do.'

  'She has spoken to you on the subject?'

  'Certainly. More than that; it is at her request--though I did notintend to say so--that I come to speak to you about it now.'

  'Frankly and plainly,' said Swithin, his voice trembling with a compoundof scientific and amatory emotion that defies definition, 'does she sayseriously that she wishes me to go?'

  'She does.'

  'Then go I will,' replied Swithin firmly. 'I have been fortunate enoughto interest some leading astronomers, including the Astronomer Royal; andin a letter received this morning I learn that the use of the CapeObservatory has been offered me for any southern observations I may wishto make. This offer I will accept. Will you kindly let Lady Constantineknow this, since she is interested in my welfare?'

  Louis promised, and when he was gone Swithin looked blankly at his ownsituation, as if he could scarcely believe in its reality. Her letter tohim, then, had been deliberately written; she meant him to go.

  But he was determined that none of those misunderstandings which ruin thehappiness of lovers should be allowed to operate in the present case. Hewould see her, if he slept under her walls all night to do it, and wouldhear the order to depart from her own lips. This unexpected stand shewas making for his interests was winning his admiration to such a degreeas to be in danger of defeating the very cause it was meant to subserve.A woman like this was not to be forsaken in a hurry. He wrote two lines,and left the note at the house with his own hand.

  'THE CABIN, RINGS-HILL, _July_ 7_th_.

  'DEAREST VIVIETTE,--If you insist, I will go. But letter-writing will not do. I must have the command from your own two lips, otherwise I shall not stir. I am here every evening at seven. Can you come?--S.'

  This note, as fate would have it, reached her hands in the single hour ofthat week when she was in a mood to comply with his request, just whenmoved by a reactionary emotion after dismissing Swithin. She wentupstairs to the window that had so long served purposes of this kind, andsignalled 'Yes.'

  St. Cleeve soon saw the answer she had given and watched her approachfrom the tower as the sunset drew on. The vivid circumstances of hislife at this date led him ever to remember the external scenes in whichthey were set. It was an evening of exceptional irradiations, and thewest heaven gleamed like a foundry of all metals common and rare. Theclouds were broken into a thousand fragments, and the margin of everyfragment shone. Foreseeing the disadvantage and pain to her ofmaintaining a resolve under the pressure of a meeting, he vowed not tourge her by word or sign; to put the question plainly and calmly, and todiscuss it on a reasonable basis only, like the philosophers they assumedthemselves to be.

  But this intention was scarcely adhered to in all its integrity. Sheduly appeared on the edge of the field, flooded with the metallicradiance that marked the close of this da
y; whereupon he quicklydescended the steps, and met her at the cabin door. They entered ittogether.

  As the evening grew darker and darker he listened to her reasoning, whichwas precisely a repetition of that already sent him by letter, and bydegrees accepted her decision, since she would not revoke it. Time camefor them to say good-bye, and then--

  'He turn'd and saw the terror in her eyes, That yearn'd upon him, shining in such wise As a star midway in the midnight fix'd.'

  It was the misery of her own condition that showed forth, hithertoobscured by her ardour for ameliorating his. They closed together, andkissed each other as though the emotion of their whole year-and-half'sacquaintance had settled down upon that moment.

  'I won't go away from you!' said Swithin huskily. 'Why did you proposeit for an instant?'

  Thus the nearly ended interview was again prolonged, and Viviette yieldedto all the passion of her first union with him. Time, however, wasmerciless, and the hour approached midnight, and she was compelled todepart. Swithin walked with her towards the house, as he had walked manytimes before, believing that all was now smooth again between them, andcaring, it must be owned, very little for his fame as an expositor of thesouthern constellations just then.

  When they reached the silent house he said what he had not ventured tosay before, 'Fix the day--you have decided that it is to be soon, andthat I am not to go?'

  But youthful Swithin was far, very far, from being up to the fondsubtlety of Viviette this evening. 'I cannot decide here,' she saidgently, releasing herself from his arm; 'I will speak to you from thewindow. Wait for me.'

  She vanished; and he waited. It was a long time before the windowopened, and he was not aware that, with her customary complication offeeling, she had knelt for some time inside the room before looking out.

  'Well?' said he.

  'It cannot be,' she answered. 'I cannot ruin you. But the day after youare five-and-twenty our marriage shall be confirmed, if you choose.'

  'O, my Viviette, how is this!' he cried.

  'Swithin, I have not altered. But I feared for my powers, and could nottell you whilst I stood by your side. I ought not to have given way as Idid to-night. Take the bequest, and go. You are too young--to befettered--I should have thought of it! Do not communicate with me for atleast a year: it is imperative. Do not tell me your plans. If we part,we do part. I have vowed a vow not to further obstruct the course youhad decided on before you knew me and my puling ways; and by Heaven'shelp I'll keep that vow. . . . Now go. These are the parting words ofyour own Viviette!'

  Swithin, who was stable as a giant in all that appertained to nature andlife outside humanity, was a mere pupil in domestic matters. He wasquite awed by her firmness, and looked vacantly at her for a time, tillshe closed the window. Then he mechanically turned, and went, as she hadcommanded.