by Thomas Hardy
CHAPTER XXIV
THE SAME NIGHT--THE FIR PLANTATION
Among the multifarious duties which Bathsheba had voluntarily imposedupon herself by dispensing with the services of a bailiff, was theparticular one of looking round the homestead before going to bed,to see that all was right and safe for the night. Gabriel hadalmost constantly preceded her in this tour every evening, watchingher affairs as carefully as any specially appointed officer ofsurveillance could have done; but this tender devotion was to agreat extent unknown to his mistress, and as much as was known wassomewhat thanklessly received. Women are never tired of bewailingman's fickleness in love, but they only seem to snub his constancy.
As watching is best done invisibly, she usually carried a darklantern in her hand, and every now and then turned on the lightto examine nooks and corners with the coolness of a metropolitanpoliceman. This coolness may have owed its existence not so muchto her fearlessness of expected danger as to her freedom from thesuspicion of any; her worst anticipated discovery being that a horsemight not be well bedded, the fowls not all in, or a door not closed.
This night the buildings were inspected as usual, and she went roundto the farm paddock. Here the only sounds disturbing the stillnesswere steady munchings of many mouths, and stentorian breathings fromall but invisible noses, ending in snores and puffs like the blowingof bellows slowly. Then the munching would recommence, when thelively imagination might assist the eye to discern a group ofpink-white nostrils, shaped as caverns, and very clammy and humid ontheir surfaces, not exactly pleasant to the touch until one got usedto them; the mouths beneath having a great partiality for closingupon any loose end of Bathsheba's apparel which came within reach oftheir tongues. Above each of these a still keener vision suggested abrown forehead and two staring though not unfriendly eyes, and aboveall a pair of whitish crescent-shaped horns like two particularlynew moons, an occasional stolid "moo!" proclaiming beyond the shadeof a doubt that these phenomena were the features and persons ofDaisy, Whitefoot, Bonny-lass, Jolly-O, Spot, Twinkle-eye, etc.,etc.--the respectable dairy of Devon cows belonging to Bathshebaaforesaid.
Her way back to the house was by a path through a young plantation oftapering firs, which had been planted some years earlier to shelterthe premises from the north wind. By reason of the density ofthe interwoven foliage overhead, it was gloomy there at cloudlessnoontide, twilight in the evening, dark as midnight at dusk, andblack as the ninth plague of Egypt at midnight. To describe the spotis to call it a vast, low, naturally formed hall, the plumy ceilingof which was supported by slender pillars of living wood, the floorbeing covered with a soft dun carpet of dead spikelets and mildewedcones, with a tuft of grass-blades here and there.
This bit of the path was always the crux of the night's ramble,though, before starting, her apprehensions of danger were not vividenough to lead her to take a companion. Slipping along here covertlyas Time, Bathsheba fancied she could hear footsteps entering thetrack at the opposite end. It was certainly a rustle of footsteps.Her own instantly fell as gently as snowflakes. She reassuredherself by a remembrance that the path was public, and that thetraveller was probably some villager returning home; regretting,at the same time, that the meeting should be about to occur in thedarkest point of her route, even though only just outside her owndoor.
The noise approached, came close, and a figure was apparently on thepoint of gliding past her when something tugged at her skirt andpinned it forcibly to the ground. The instantaneous check nearlythrew Bathsheba off her balance. In recovering she struck againstwarm clothes and buttons.
"A rum start, upon my soul!" said a masculine voice, a foot or soabove her head. "Have I hurt you, mate?"
"No," said Bathsheba, attempting to shrink away.
"We have got hitched together somehow, I think."
"Yes."
"Are you a woman?"
"Yes."
"A lady, I should have said."
"It doesn't matter."
"I am a man."
"Oh!"
Bathsheba softly tugged again, but to no purpose.
"Is that a dark lantern you have? I fancy so," said the man.
"Yes."
"If you'll allow me I'll open it, and set you free."
A hand seized the lantern, the door was opened, the rays burstout from their prison, and Bathsheba beheld her position withastonishment.
The man to whom she was hooked was brilliant in brass and scarlet.He was a soldier. His sudden appearance was to darkness what thesound of a trumpet is to silence. Gloom, the _genius loci_ at alltimes hitherto, was now totally overthrown, less by the lantern-lightthan by what the lantern lighted. The contrast of this revelationwith her anticipations of some sinister figure in sombre garb was sogreat that it had upon her the effect of a fairy transformation.
It was immediately apparent that the military man's spur had becomeentangled in the gimp which decorated the skirt of her dress. Hecaught a view of her face.
"I'll unfasten you in one moment, miss," he said, with new-borngallantry.
"Oh no--I can do it, thank you," she hastily replied, and stooped forthe performance.
The unfastening was not such a trifling affair. The rowel of thespur had so wound itself among the gimp cords in those few moments,that separation was likely to be a matter of time.
He too stooped, and the lantern standing on the ground betwixt themthrew the gleam from its open side among the fir-tree needles and theblades of long damp grass with the effect of a large glowworm. Itradiated upwards into their faces, and sent over half the plantationgigantic shadows of both man and woman, each dusky shape becomingdistorted and mangled upon the tree-trunks till it wasted to nothing.
He looked hard into her eyes when she raised them for a moment;Bathsheba looked down again, for his gaze was too strong to bereceived point-blank with her own. But she had obliquely noticedthat he was young and slim, and that he wore three chevrons upon hissleeve.
Bathsheba pulled again.
"You are a prisoner, miss; it is no use blinking the matter," saidthe soldier, drily. "I must cut your dress if you are in such ahurry."
"Yes--please do!" she exclaimed, helplessly.
"It wouldn't be necessary if you could wait a moment," and he unwounda cord from the little wheel. She withdrew her own hand, but,whether by accident or design, he touched it. Bathsheba was vexed;she hardly knew why.
His unravelling went on, but it nevertheless seemed coming to no end.She looked at him again.
"Thank you for the sight of such a beautiful face!" said the youngsergeant, without ceremony.
She coloured with embarrassment. "'Twas unwillingly shown," shereplied, stiffly, and with as much dignity--which was very little--asshe could infuse into a position of captivity.
"I like you the better for that incivility, miss," he said.
"I should have liked--I wish--you had never shown yourself to me byintruding here!" She pulled again, and the gathers of her dress beganto give way like liliputian musketry.
"I deserve the chastisement your words give me. But why should sucha fair and dutiful girl have such an aversion to her father's sex?"
"Go on your way, please."
"What, Beauty, and drag you after me? Do but look; I never saw sucha tangle!"
"Oh, 'tis shameful of you; you have been making it worse on purposeto keep me here--you have!"
"Indeed, I don't think so," said the sergeant, with a merry twinkle.
"I tell you you have!" she exclaimed, in high temper. "I insist uponundoing it. Now, allow me!"
"Certainly, miss; I am not of steel." He added a sigh which had asmuch archness in it as a sigh could possess without losing its naturealtogether. "I am thankful for beauty, even when 'tis thrown to melike a bone to a dog. These moments will be over too soon!"
She closed her lips in a determined silence.
Bathsheba was revolving in her mind whether by a bold and desperaterush she could free herself at the
risk of leaving her skirt bodilybehind her. The thought was too dreadful. The dress--which she hadput on to appear stately at the supper--was the head and front of herwardrobe; not another in her stock became her so well. What womanin Bathsheba's position, not naturally timid, and within call of herretainers, would have bought escape from a dashing soldier at so deara price?
"All in good time; it will soon be done, I perceive," said her coolfriend.
"This trifling provokes, and--and--"
"Not too cruel!"
"--Insults me!"
"It is done in order that I may have the pleasure of apologizing toso charming a woman, which I straightway do most humbly, madam," hesaid, bowing low.
Bathsheba really knew not what to say.
"I've seen a good many women in my time," continued the young man ina murmur, and more thoughtfully than hitherto, critically regardingher bent head at the same time; "but I've never seen a woman sobeautiful as you. Take it or leave it--be offended or like it--Idon't care."
"Who are you, then, who can so well afford to despise opinion?"
"No stranger. Sergeant Troy. I am staying in this place.--There!it is undone at last, you see. Your light fingers were more eagerthan mine. I wish it had been the knot of knots, which there's nountying!"
This was worse and worse. She started up, and so did he. How todecently get away from him--that was her difficulty now. She sidledoff inch by inch, the lantern in her hand, till she could see theredness of his coat no longer.
"Ah, Beauty; good-bye!" he said.
She made no reply, and, reaching a distance of twenty or thirtyyards, turned about, and ran indoors.
Liddy had just retired to rest. In ascending to her own chamber,Bathsheba opened the girl's door an inch or two, and, panting, said--
"Liddy, is any soldier staying in the village--sergeant somebody--rather gentlemanly for a sergeant, and good looking--a red coat withblue facings?"
"No, miss ... No, I say; but really it might be Sergeant Troy home onfurlough, though I have not seen him. He was here once in that waywhen the regiment was at Casterbridge."
"Yes; that's the name. Had he a moustache--no whiskers or beard?"
"He had."
"What kind of a person is he?"
"Oh! miss--I blush to name it--a gay man! But I know him to be veryquick and trim, who might have made his thousands, like a squire.Such a clever young dandy as he is! He's a doctor's son by name,which is a great deal; and he's an earl's son by nature!"
"Which is a great deal more. Fancy! Is it true?"
"Yes. And, he was brought up so well, and sent to CasterbridgeGrammar School for years and years. Learnt all languages while hewas there; and it was said he got on so far that he could take downChinese in shorthand; but that I don't answer for, as it was onlyreported. However, he wasted his gifted lot, and listed a soldier;but even then he rose to be a sergeant without trying at all. Ah!such a blessing it is to be high-born; nobility of blood will shineout even in the ranks and files. And is he really come home, miss?"
"I believe so. Good-night, Liddy."
After all, how could a cheerful wearer of skirts be permanentlyoffended with the man? There are occasions when girls like Bathshebawill put up with a great deal of unconventional behaviour. When theywant to be praised, which is often, when they want to be mastered,which is sometimes; and when they want no nonsense, which is seldom.Just now the first feeling was in the ascendant with Bathsheba,with a dash of the second. Moreover, by chance or by devilry, theministrant was antecedently made interesting by being a handsomestranger who had evidently seen better days.
So she could not clearly decide whether it was her opinion that hehad insulted her or not.
"Was ever anything so odd!" she at last exclaimed to herself, in herown room. "And was ever anything so meanly done as what I did--toskulk away like that from a man who was only civil and kind!" Clearlyshe did not think his barefaced praise of her person an insult now.
It was a fatal omission of Boldwood's that he had never once told hershe was beautiful.
