by Thomas Hardy
IV
Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure
In the evening of this last day of expectation, which was thetwenty-third of December, Eustacia was at home alone. She hadpassed the recent hour in lamenting over a rumour newly come toher ears--that Yeobright's visit to his mother was to be of shortduration, and would end some time the next week. "Naturally," shesaid to herself. A man in the full swing of his activities in a gaycity could not afford to linger long on Egdon Heath. That she wouldbehold face to face the owner of the awakening voice within the limitsof such a holiday was most unlikely, unless she were to haunt theenvirons of his mother's house like a robin, to do which was difficultand unseemly.
The customary expedient of provincial girls and men in suchcircumstances is churchgoing. In an ordinary village or country townone can safely calculate that, either on Christmas-day or the Sundaycontiguous, any native home for the holidays, who has not through ageor _ennui_ lost the appetite for seeing and being seen, will turnup in some pew or other, shining with hope, self-consciousness, andnew clothes. Thus the congregation on Christmas morning is mostlya Tussaud collection of celebrities who have been born in theneighbourhood. Hither the mistress, left neglected at home all theyear, can steal and observe the development of the returned lover whohas forgotten her, and think as she watches him over her prayer-bookthat he may throb with a renewed fidelity when novelties have losttheir charm. And hither a comparatively recent settler like Eustaciamay betake herself to scrutinize the person of a native son who lefthome before her advent upon the scene, and consider if the friendshipof his parents be worth cultivating during his next absence in orderto secure a knowledge of him on his next return.
But these tender schemes were not feasible among the scatteredinhabitants of Egdon Heath. In name they were parishioners, butvirtually they belonged to no parish at all. People who came to thesefew isolated houses to keep Christmas with their friends remained intheir friends' chimney-corners drinking mead and other comfortingliquors till they left again for good and all. Rain, snow, ice, mudeverywhere around, they did not care to trudge two or three miles tosit wet-footed and splashed to the nape of their necks among thosewho, though in some measure neighbours, lived close to the church, andentered it clean and dry. Eustacia knew it was ten to one that ClymYeobright would go to no church at all during his few days of leave,and that it would be a waste of labour for her to go driving the ponyand gig over a bad road in hope to see him there.
It was dusk, and she was sitting by the fire in the dining-room orhall, which they occupied at this time of the year in preference tothe parlour, because of its large hearth, constructed for turf-fires,a fuel the captain was partial to in the winter season. The onlyvisible articles in the room were those on the window-sill, whichshowed their shapes against the low sky: the middle article being theold hourglass, and the other two a pair of ancient British urns whichhad been dug from a barrow near, and were used as flower-pots for tworazor-leaved cactuses. Somebody knocked at the door. The servant wasout; so was her grandfather. The person, after waiting a minute, camein and tapped at the door of the room.
"Who's there?" said Eustacia.
"Please, Cap'n Vye, will you let us--"
Eustacia arose and went to the door. "I cannot allow you to come inso boldly. You should have waited."
"The cap'n said I might come in without any fuss," was answered in alad's pleasant voice.
"Oh, did he?" said Eustacia more gently. "What do you want, Charley?"
"Please will your grandfather lend us his fuel-house to try over ourparts in, tonight at seven o'clock?"
"What, are you one of the Egdon mummers for this year?"
"Yes, miss. The cap'n used to let the old mummers practise here."
"I know it. Yes, you may use the fuel-house if you like," saidEustacia languidly.
The choice of Captain Vye's fuel-house as the scene of rehearsal wasdictated by the fact that his dwelling was nearly in the centre of theheath. The fuel-house was as roomy as a barn, and was a most desirableplace for such a purpose. The lads who formed the company of playerslived at different scattered points around, and by meeting in thisspot the distances to be traversed by all the comers would be aboutequally proportioned.
For mummers and mumming Eustacia had the greatest contempt. Themummers themselves were not afflicted with any such feeling fortheir art, though at the same time they were not enthusiastic. Atraditional pastime is to be distinguished from a mere revival in nomore striking feature than in this, that while in the revival all isexcitement and fervour, the survival is carried on with a stolidityand absence of stir which sets one wondering why a thing that is doneso perfunctorily should be kept up at all. Like Balaam and otherunwilling prophets, the agents seem moved by an inner compulsionto say and do their allotted parts whether they will or no. Thisunweeting manner of performance is the true ring by which, in thisrefurbishing age, a fossilized survival may be known from a spuriousreproduction.
The piece was the well-known play of "Saint George," and all who werebehind the scenes assisted in the preparations, including the womenof each household. Without the cooperation of sisters and sweetheartsthe dresses were likely to be a failure; but on the other hand, thisclass of assistance was not without its drawbacks. The girls couldnever be brought to respect tradition in designing and decorating thearmour; they insisted on attaching loops and bows of silk and velvetin any situation pleasing to their taste. Gorget, gusset, basinet,cuirass, gauntlet, sleeve, all alike in the view of these feminineeyes were practicable spaces whereon to sew scraps of flutteringcolour.
It might be that Joe, who fought on the side of Christendom, had asweetheart, and that Jim, who fought on the side of the Moslem, hadone likewise. During the making of the costumes it would come to theknowledge of Joe's sweetheart that Jim's was putting brilliant silkscallops at the bottom of her lover's surcoat, in addition to theribbons of the visor, the bars of which, being invariably formed ofcoloured strips about half an inch wide hanging before the face,were mostly of that material. Joe's sweetheart straightway placedbrilliant silk on the scallops of the hem in question, and, going alittle further, added ribbon tufts to the shoulder pieces. Jim's, notto be outdone, would affix bows and rosettes everywhere.
The result was that in the end the Valiant Soldier, of the Christianarmy, was distinguished by no peculiarity of accoutrement from theTurkish Knight; and what was worse, on a casual view Saint Georgehimself might be mistaken for his deadly enemy, the Saracen. Theguisers themselves, though inwardly regretting this confusion ofpersons, could not afford to offend those by whose assistance theyso largely profited, and the innovations were allowed to stand.
There was, it is true, a limit to this tendency to uniformity.The Leech or Doctor preserved his character intact: his darkerhabiliments, peculiar hat, and the bottle of physic slung under hisarm, could never be mistaken. And the same might be said of theconventional figure of Father Christmas, with his gigantic club, anolder man, who accompanied the band as general protector in long nightjourneys from parish to parish, and was bearer of the purse.
Seven o'clock, the hour of the rehearsal, came round, and in a shorttime Eustacia could hear voices in the fuel-house. To dissipate insome trifling measure her abiding sense of the murkiness of human lifeshe went to the "linhay" or lean-to-shed, which formed the root-storeof their dwelling and abutted on the fuel-house. Here was a smallrough hole in the mud wall, originally made for pigeons, through whichthe interior of the next shed could be viewed. A light came from itnow; and Eustacia stepped upon a stool to look in upon the scene.
On a ledge in the fuel-house stood three tall rush-lights and by thelight of them seven or eight lads were marching about, haranguing, andconfusing each other, in endeavours to perfect themselves in the play.Humphrey and Sam, the furze and turf cutters, were there looking on,so also was Timothy Fairway, who leant against the wall and promptedthe boys from memory, interspersing among the set words remarks andanecdotes of the superior days when he a
nd others were the Egdonmummers-elect that these lads were now.
"Well, ye be as well up to it as ever ye will be," he said. "Not thatsuch mumming would have passed in our time. Harry as the Saracenshould strut a bit more, and John needn't holler his inside out.Beyond that perhaps you'll do. Have you got all your clothes ready?"
"We shall by Monday."
"Your first outing will be Monday night, I suppose?"
"Yes. At Mrs. Yeobright's."
"Oh, Mrs. Yeobright's. What makes her want to see ye? I should thinka middle-aged woman was tired of mumming."
"She's got up a bit of a party, because 'tis the first Christmas thather son Clym has been home for a long time."
"To be sure, to be sure--her party! I am going myself. I almostforgot it, upon my life."
Eustacia's face flagged. There was to be a party at the Yeobrights';she, naturally, had nothing to do with it. She was a stranger toall such local gatherings, and had always held them as scarcelyappertaining to her sphere. But had she been going, what anopportunity would have been afforded her of seeing the man whoseinfluence was penetrating her like summer sun! To increase thatinfluence was coveted excitement; to cast it off might be to regainserenity; to leave it as it stood was tantalizing.
The lads and men prepared to leave the premises, and Eustacia returnedto her fireside. She was immersed in thought, but not for long. In afew minutes the lad Charley, who had come to ask permission to use theplace, returned with the key to the kitchen. Eustacia heard him, andopening the door into the passage said, "Charley, come here."
The lad was surprised. He entered the front room not withoutblushing; for he, like many, had felt the power of this girl's faceand form.
She pointed to a seat by the fire, and entered the other side of thechimney-corner herself. It could be seen in her face that whatevermotive she might have had in asking the youth indoors would soonappear.
"Which part do you play, Charley--the Turkish Knight, do you not?"inquired the beauty, looking across the smoke of the fire to him onthe other side.
"Yes, miss, the Turkish Knight," he replied diffidently.
"Is yours a long part?"
"Nine speeches, about."
"Can you repeat them to me? If so I should like to hear them."
The lad smiled into the glowing turf and began--
"Here come I, a Turkish Knight, Who learnt in Turkish land to fight,"
continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concludingcatastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint George.
Eustacia had occasionally heard the part recited before. When the ladended she began, precisely in the same words, and ranted on withouthitch or divergence till she too reached the end. It was the samething, yet how different. Like in form, it had the added softnessand finish of a Raffaelle after Perugino, which, while faithfullyreproducing the original subject, entirely distances the original art.
Charley's eyes rounded with surprise. "Well, you be a clever lady!"he said, in admiration. "I've been three weeks learning mine."
"I have heard it before," she quietly observed. "Now, would you doanything to please me, Charley?"
"I'd do a good deal, miss."
"Would you let me play your part for one night?"
"Oh, miss! But your woman's gown--you couldn't."
"I can get boy's clothes--at least all that would be wanted besidesthe mumming dress. What should I have to give you to lend me yourthings, to let me take your place for an hour or two on Monday night,and on no account to say a word about who or what I am? You would, ofcourse, have to excuse yourself from playing that night, and to saythat somebody--a cousin of Miss Vye's--would act for you. The othermummers have never spoken to me in their lives, so that it would besafe enough; and if it were not, I should not mind. Now, what must Igive you to agree to this? Half a crown?"
The youth shook his head
"Five shillings?"
He shook his head again. "Money won't do it," he said, brushing theiron head of the fire-dog with the hollow of his hand.
"What will, then, Charley?" said Eustacia in a disappointed tone.
"You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss," murmured thelad, without looking at her, and still stroking the firedog's head.
"Yes," said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. "You wanted to joinhands with me in the ring, if I recollect?"
"Half an hour of that, and I'll agree, miss."
Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly. He was three years youngerthan herself, but apparently not backward for his age. "Half an hourof what?" she said, though she guessed what.
"Holding your hand in mine."
She was silent. "Make it a quarter of an hour," she said.
"Yes, Miss Eustacia--I will, if I may kiss it too. A quarter of anhour. And I'll swear to do the best I can to let you take my placewithout anybody knowing. Don't you think somebody might know yourtongue, miss?"
"It is possible. But I will put a pebble in my mouth to make is lesslikely. Very well; you shall be allowed to have my hand as soon asyou bring the dress and your sword and staff. I don't want you anylonger now."
Charley departed, and Eustacia felt more and more interest in life.Here was something to do: here was some one to see, and a charminglyadventurous way to see him. "Ah," she said to herself, "want of anobject to live for--that's all is the matter with me!"
Eustacia's manner was as a rule of a slumberous sort, her passionsbeing of the massive rather than the vivacious kind. But when arousedshe would make a dash which, just for the time, was not unlike themove of a naturally lively person.
On the question of recognition she was somewhat indifferent. Bythe acting lads themselves she was not likely to be known. With theguests who might be assembled she was hardly so secure. Yet detection,after all, would be no such dreadful thing. The fact only could bedetected, her true motive never. It would be instantly set down as thepassing freak of a girl whose ways were already considered singular.That she was doing for an earnest reason what would most naturally bedone in jest was at any rate a safe secret.
