The Return of the Native

by Thomas Hardy

  XI

  The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman

  The reddleman had left Eustacia's presence with desponding views onThomasin's future happiness; but he was awakened to the fact that oneother channel remained untried by seeing, as he followed the way tohis van, the form of Mrs. Yeobright slowly walking towards the QuietWoman. He went across to her; and could almost perceive in her anxiousface that this journey of hers to Wildeve was undertaken with the sameobject as his own to Eustacia.

  She did not conceal the fact. "Then," said the reddleman, "you may aswell leave it alone, Mrs. Yeobright."

  "I half think so myself," she said. "But nothing else remains to bedone besides pressing the question upon him."

  "I should like to say a word first," said Venn firmly. "Mr. Wildeveis not the only man who has asked Thomasin to marry him; and whyshould not another have a chance? Mrs. Yeobright, I should be gladto marry your niece, and would have done it any time these last twoyears. There, now it is out, and I have never told anybody before butherself."

  Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarilyglanced towards his singular though shapely figure.

  "Looks are not everything," said the reddleman, noticing the glance."There's many a calling that don't bring in so much as mine, if itcomes to money; and perhaps I am not so much worse off than Wildeve.There is nobody so poor as these professional fellows who have failed;and if you shouldn't like my redness--well, I am not red by birth, youknow; I only took to this business for a freak; and I might turn myhand to something else in good time."

  "I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I fearthere would be objections. More than that, she is devoted to thisman."

  "True; or I shouldn't have done what I have this morning."

  "Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not seeme going to his house now. What was Thomasin's answer when you toldher of your feelings?"

  "She wrote that you would object to me; and other things."

  "She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindly: Imerely state it as a truth. You have been good to her, and we do notforget it. But as she was unwilling on her own account to be yourwife, that settles the point without my wishes being concerned."

  "Yes. But there is a difference between then and now, ma'am. She isdistressed now, and I have thought that if you were to talk to herabout me, and think favourably of me yourself, there might be a chanceof winning her round, and getting her quite independent of thisWildeve's backward and forward play, and his not knowing whether he'llhave her or no."

  Mrs. Yeobright shook her head. "Thomasin thinks, and I think withher, that she ought to be Wildeve's wife, if she means to appearbefore the world without a slur upon her name. If they marry soon,everybody will believe that an accident did really prevent thewedding. If not, it may cast a shade upon her character--at any ratemake her ridiculous. In short, if it is anyhow possible they mustmarry now."

  "I thought that till half an hour ago. But, after all, why shouldher going off with him to Anglebury for a few hours do her any harm?Anybody who knows how pure she is will feel any such thought tobe quite unjust. I have been trying this morning to help on thismarriage with Wildeve--yes, I, ma'am--in the belief that I ought todo it, because she was so wrapped up in him. But I much question ifI was right, after all. However, nothing came of it. And now I offermyself."

  Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into thequestion. "I fear I must go on," she said. "I do not see thatanything else can be done."

  And she went on. But though this conversation did not divertThomasin's aunt from her purposed interview with Wildeve, it made aconsiderable difference in her mode of conducting that interview. Shethanked God for the weapon which the reddleman had put into her hands.

  Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her silentlyinto the parlour, and closed the door. Mrs. Yeobright began--

  "I have thought it my duty to call today. A new proposal has beenmade to me, which has rather astonished me. It will affect Thomasingreatly; and I have decided that it should at least be mentioned toyou."

  "Yes? What is it?" he said civilly.

  "It is, of course, in reference to her future. You may not be awarethat another man has shown himself anxious to marry Thomasin. Now,though I have not encouraged him yet, I cannot conscientiously refusehim a chance any longer. I don't wish to be short with you; but Imust be fair to him and to her."

  "Who is the man?" said Wildeve with surprise.

  "One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. Heproposed to her two years ago. At that time she refused him."

  "Well?"

  "He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay hisaddresses to her. She may not refuse him twice."

  "What is his name?"

  Mrs. Yeobright declined to say. "He is a man Thomasin likes," sheadded, "and one whose constancy she respects at least. It seems to methat what she refused then she would be glad to get now. She is muchannoyed at her awkward position."

  "She never once told me of this old lover."

  "The gentlest women are not such fools as to show EVERY card."

  "Well, if she wants him I suppose she must have him."

  "It is easy enough to say that; but you don't see the difficulty. Hewants her much more than she wants him; and before I can encourageanything of the sort I must have a clear understanding from you thatyou will not interfere to injure an arrangement which I promote in thebelief that it is for the best. Suppose, when they are engaged, andeverything is smoothly arranged for their marriage, that you shouldstep between them and renew your suit? You might not win her back,but you might cause much unhappiness."

  "Of course I should do no such thing," said Wildeve "But they are notengaged yet. How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?"

  "That's a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the wholethe probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in time. Iflatter myself that I have some influence over her. She is pliable,and I can be strong in my recommendations of him."

  "And in your disparagement of me at the same time."

  "Well, you may depend upon my not praising you," she said drily. "Andif this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her position ispeculiar, and that she has been hardly used. I shall also be helpedin making the match by her own desire to escape from the humiliationof her present state; and a woman's pride in these cases will leadher a very great way. A little managing may be required to bring herround; but I am equal to that, provided that you agree to the onething indispensable; that is, to make a distinct declaration that sheis to think no more of you as a possible husband. That will pique herinto accepting him."

  "I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright. It is so sudden."

  "And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenientthat you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of sayingdistinctly you will have nothing to do with us."

  Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. "I confess I was not prepared forthis," he said. "Of course I'll give her up if you wish, if it isnecessary. But I thought I might be her husband."

  "We have heard that before."

  "Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don't let us disagree. Give me a fair time. Idon't want to stand in the way of any better chance she may have; onlyI wish you had let me know earlier. I will write to you or call in aday or two. Will that suffice?"

  "Yes," she replied, "provided you promise not to communicate withThomasin without my knowledge."

  "I promise that," he said. And the interview then terminated, Mrs.Yeobright returning homeward as she had come.

  By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, asoften happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when arranging it.In the first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same evening after darkto Eustacia's house at Mistover.

  At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shutteredfrom the chill and darkness without. Wildeve's
clandestine plan withher was to take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to the creviceat the top of the window shutter, which was on the outside, so that itshould fall with a gentle rustle, resembling that of a mouse, betweenshutter and glass. This precaution in attracting her attention was toavoid arousing the suspicions of her grandfather.

  The soft words, "I hear; wait for me," in Eustacia's voice from withintold him that she was alone.

  He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure andidling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house by hisproud though condescending mistress. She showed no sign of comingout in a hurry. The time wore on, and he began to grow impatient. Inthe course of twenty minutes she appeared from round the corner, andadvanced as if merely taking an airing.

  "You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come about,"he said with bitterness. "Still, you are worth waiting for."

  "What has happened?" said Eustacia. "I did not know you were introuble. I too am gloomy enough."

  "I am not in trouble," said he. "It is merely that affairs have cometo a head, and I must take a clear course."

  "What course is that?" she asked with attentive interest.

  "And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other night?Why, take you from this place, and carry you away with me abroad."

  "I have not forgotten. But why have you come so unexpectedly torepeat the question, when you only promised to come next Saturday? Ithought I was to have plenty of time to consider."

  "Yes, but the situation is different now."

  "Explain to me."

  "I don't want to explain, for I may pain you."

  "But I must know the reason of this hurry."

  "It is simply my ardour, dear Eustacia. Everything is smooth now."

  "Then why are you so ruffled?"

  "I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobright--butshe is nothing to us."

  "Ah, I knew she had something to do with it! Come, I don't likereserve."

  "No--she has nothing. She only says she wishes me to give up Thomasinbecause another man is anxious to marry her. The woman, now she nolonger needs me, actually shows off!" Wildeve's vexation had escapedhim in spite of himself.

  Eustacia was silent a long while. "You are in the awkward position ofan official who is no longer wanted," she said in a changed tone.

  "It seems so. But I have not yet seen Thomasin."

  "And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actuallynettled by this slight from an unexpected quarter."

  "Well?"

  "And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is certainlya new position altogether. I am to be a stop-gap."

  "Please remember that I proposed the same thing the other day."

  Eustacia again remained in a sort of stupefied silence. What curiousfeeling was this coming over her? Was it really possible that herinterest in Wildeve had been so entirely the result of antagonism thatthe glory and the dream departed from the man with the first soundthat he was no longer coveted by her rival? She was, then, secureof him at last. Thomasin no longer required him. What a humiliatingvictory! He loved her best, she thought; and yet--dared she to murmursuch treacherous criticism ever so softly?--what was the man worthwhom a woman inferior to herself did not value? The sentiment whichlurks more or less in all animate nature--that of not desiring theundesired of others--was lively as a passion in the super-subtle,epicurean heart of Eustacia. Her social superiority over him, whichhitherto had scarcely ever impressed her, became unpleasantlyinsistent, and for the first time she felt that she had stooped inloving him.

  "Well, darling, you agree?" said Wildeve.

  "If it could be London, or even Budmouth, instead of America," shemurmured languidly. "Well, I will think. It is too great a thing forme to decide offhand. I wish I hated the heath less--or loved youmore."

  "You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly enoughto go anywhere with me."

  "And you loved Thomasin."

  "Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay," he returned, with almosta sneer. "I don't hate her now."

  "Exactly. The only thing is that you can no longer get her."

  "Come--no taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't agreeto go with me, and agree shortly, I shall go by myself."

  "Or try Thomasin again. Damon, how strange it seems that you couldhave married her or me indifferently, and only have come to me becauseI am--cheapest! Yes, yes--it is true. There was a time when I shouldhave exclaimed against a man of that sort, and been quite wild; but itis all past now."

  "Will you go, dearest? Come secretly with me to Bristol, marry me,and turn our backs upon this dog-hole of England for ever? Say Yes."

  "I want to get away from here at almost any cost," she said withweariness, "but I don't like to go with you. Give me more time todecide."

  "I have already," said Wildeve. "Well, I give you one more week."

  "A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have toconsider so many things. Fancy Thomasin being anxious to get rid ofyou! I cannot forget it."

  "Never mind that. Say Monday week. I will be here precisely at thistime."

  "Let it be at Rainbarrow," said she. "This is too near home; mygrandfather may be walking out."

  "Thank you, dear. On Monday week at this time I will be at theBarrow. Till then good-bye."

  "Good-bye. No, no, you must not touch me now. Shaking hands is enoughtill I have made up my mind."

  Eustacia watched his shadowy form till it had disappeared. She placedher hand to her forehead and breathed heavily; and then her rich,romantic lips parted under that homely impulse--a yawn. She wasimmediately angry at having betrayed even to herself the possibleevanescence of her passion for him. She could not admit at once thatshe might have overestimated Wildeve, for to perceive his mediocritynow was to admit her own great folly heretofore. And the discoverythat she was the owner of a disposition so purely that of the dog inthe manger had something in it which at first made her ashamed.

  The fruit of Mrs. Yeobright's diplomacy was indeed remarkable, thoughnot as yet of the kind she had anticipated. It had appreciablyinfluenced Wildeve, but it was influencing Eustacia far more. Herlover was no longer to her an exciting man whom many women strovefor, and herself could only retain by striving with them. He was asuperfluity.

  She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not exactlygrief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason in thelatter days of an ill-judged, transient love. To be conscious thatthe end of the dream is approaching, and yet has not absolutely come,is one of the most wearisome as well as the most curious stages alongthe course between the beginning of a passion and its end.

  Her grandfather had returned, and was busily engaged in pouring somegallons of newly arrived rum into the square bottles of his squarecellaret. Whenever these home supplies were exhausted he would go tothe Quiet Woman, and, standing with his back to the fire, grog inhand, tell remarkable stories of how he had lived seven years underthe water-line of his ship, and other naval wonders, to the natives,who hoped too earnestly for a treat of ale from the teller to exhibitany doubts of his truth.

  He had been there this evening. "I suppose you have heard the Egdonnews, Eustacia?" he said, without looking up from the bottles. "Themen have been talking about it at the Woman as if it were of nationalimportance."

  "I have heard none," she said.

  "Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week tospend Christmas with his mother. He is a fine fellow by this time, itseems. I suppose you remember him?"

  "I never saw him in my life."

  "Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as apromising boy."

  "Where has he been living all these years?"

  "In that rookery of pomp and vanity, Paris, I believe."