by Thomas Hardy
BOOK FOURTHTHE CLOSED DOOR
I
The Rencounter by the Pool
The July sun shone over Egdon and fired its crimson heather toscarlet. It was the one season of the year, and the one weather ofthe season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering periodrepresented the second or noontide division in the cycle of thosesuperficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed thegreen or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded thebrown period, when the heathbells and ferns would wear the russettinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of thewinter period, representing night.
Clym and Eustacia, in their little house at Alderworth, beyond EastEgdon, were living on with a monotony which was delightful to them.The heath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from theireyes for the present. They were enclosed in a sort of luminous mist,which hid from them surroundings of any inharmonious colour, andgave to all things the character of light. When it rained they werecharmed, because they could remain indoors together all day with sucha show of reason; when it was fine they were charmed, because theycould sit together on the hills. They were like those double starswhich revolve round and round each other, and from a distance appearto be one. The absolute solitude in which they lived intensifiedtheir reciprocal thoughts; yet some might have said that it had thedisadvantage of consuming their mutual affections at a fearfullyprodigal rate. Yeobright did not fear for his own part; butrecollection of Eustacia's old speech about the evanescence of love,now apparently forgotten by her, sometimes caused him to ask himselfa question; and he recoiled at the thought that the quality offiniteness was not foreign to Eden.
When three or four weeks had been passed thus, Yeobright resumedhis reading in earnest. To make up for lost time he studiedindefatigably, for he wished to enter his new profession with theleast possible delay.
Now, Eustacia's dream had always been that, once married to Clym,she would have the power of inducing him to return to Paris. He hadcarefully withheld all promise to do so; but would he be proof againsther coaxing and argument? She had calculated to such a degree onthe probability of success that she had represented Paris, and notBudmouth, to her grandfather as in all likelihood their future home.Her hopes were bound up in this dream. In the quiet days since theirmarriage, when Yeobright had been poring over her lips, her eyes, andthe lines of her face, she had mused and mused on the subject, evenwhile in the act of returning his gaze; and now the sight of thebooks, indicating a future which was antagonistic to her dream, struckher with a positively painful jar. She was hoping for the time when,as the mistress of some pretty establishment, however small, near aParisian Boulevard, she would be passing her days on the skirts atleast of the gay world, and catching stray wafts from those townpleasures she was so well fitted to enjoy. Yet Yeobright was as firmin the contrary intention as if the tendency of marriage were ratherto develop the fantasies of young philanthropy than to sweep themaway.
Her anxiety reached a high pitch; but there was something in Clym'sundeviating manner which made her hesitate before sounding him onthe subject. At this point in their experience, however, an incidenthelped her. It occurred one evening about six weeks after theirunion, and arose entirely out of the unconscious misapplication ofVenn of the fifty guineas intended for Yeobright.
A day or two after the receipt of the money Thomasin had sent a noteto her aunt to thank her. She had been surprised at the largeness ofthe amount; but as no sum had ever been mentioned she set that downto her late uncle's generosity. She had been strictly charged by heraunt to say nothing to her husband of this gift; and Wildeve, as wasnatural enough, had not brought himself to mention to his wife asingle particular of the midnight scene in the heath. Christian'sterror, in like manner, had tied his tongue on the share he took inthat proceeding; and hoping that by some means or other the money hadgone to its proper destination, he simply asserted as much, withoutgiving details.
Therefore, when a week or two had passed away, Mrs. Yeobright beganto wonder why she never heard from her son of the receipt of thepresent; and to add gloom to her perplexity came the possibilitythat resentment might be the cause of his silence. She could hardlybelieve as much, but why did he not write? She questioned Christian,and the confusion in his answers would at once have led her tobelieve that something was wrong, had not one-half of his story beencorroborated by Thomasin's note.
Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was informedone morning that her son's wife was visiting her grandfather atMistover. She determined to walk up the hill, see Eustacia, andascertain from her daughter-in-law's lips whether the family guineas,which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family jewels are to wealthierdowagers, had miscarried or not.
When Christian learnt where she was going his concern reached itsheight. At the moment of her departure he could prevaricate nolonger, and, confessing to the gambling, told her the truth as faras he knew it--that the guineas had been won by Wildeve.
"What, is he going to keep them?" Mrs. Yeobright cried.
"I hope and trust not!" moaned Christian. "He's a good man, andperhaps will do right things. He said you ought to have gied Mr.Clym's share to Eustacia, and that's perhaps what he'll do himself."
To Mrs. Yeobright, as soon as she could calmly reflect, there was muchlikelihood in this, for she could hardly believe that Wildeve wouldreally appropriate money belonging to her son. The intermediatecourse of giving it to Eustacia was the sort of thing to pleaseWildeve's fancy. But it filled the mother with anger none the less.That Wildeve should have got command of the guineas after all, andshould rearrange the disposal of them, placing Clym's share in Clym'swife's hands, because she had been his own sweetheart, and might be sostill, was as irritating a pain as any that Mrs. Yeobright had everborne.
She instantly dismissed the wretched Christian from her employ for hisconduct in the affair; but, feeling quite helpless and unable to dowithout him, told him afterwards that he might stay a little longerif he chose. Then she hastened off to Eustacia, moved by a much lesspromising emotion towards her daughter-in-law than she had felt halfan hour earlier, when planning her journey. At that time it was toinquire in a friendly spirit if there had been any accidental loss;now it was to ask plainly if Wildeve had privately given her moneywhich had been intended as a sacred gift to Clym.
She started at two o'clock, and her meeting with Eustacia was hastenedby the appearance of the young lady beside the pool and bank whichbordered her grandfather's premises, where she stood surveyingthe scene, and perhaps thinking of the romantic enactments it hadwitnessed in past days. When Mrs. Yeobright approached, Eustaciasurveyed her with the calm stare of a stranger.
The mother-in-law was the first to speak. "I was coming to see you,"she said.
"Indeed!" said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to thegirl's mortification, had refused to be present at the wedding. "Idid not at all expect you."
"I was coming on business only," said the visitor, more coldly than atfirst. "Will you excuse my asking this--Have you received a gift fromThomasin's husband?"
"A gift?"
"I mean money!"
"What--I myself?"
"Well, I meant yourself, privately--though I was not going to put itin that way."
"Money from Mr. Wildeve? No--never! Madam, what do you mean by that?"Eustacia fired up all too quickly, for her own consciousness of theold attachment between herself and Wildeve led her to jump to theconclusion that Mrs. Yeobright also knew of it, and might have cometo accuse her of receiving dishonourable presents from him now.
"I simply ask the question," said Mrs. Yeobright. "I have been--"
"You ought to have better opinions of me--I feared you were againstme from the first!" exclaimed Eustacia.
"No. I was simply for Clym," replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too muchemphasis in her earnestness. "It is the instinct of everyone to lookafter their own."
"How can you imply that he required guarding against me?" criedEustacia, passi
onate tears in her eyes. "I have not injured him bymarrying him! What sin have I done that you should think so ill of me?You had no right to speak against me to him when I have never wrongedyou."
"I only did what was fair under the circumstances," said Mrs.Yeobright more softly. "I would rather not have gone into thisquestion at present, but you compel me. I am not ashamed to tell youthe honest truth. I was firmly convinced that he ought not to marryyou--therefore I tried to dissuade him by all the means in my power.But it is done now, and I have no idea of complaining any more. I amready to welcome you."
"Ah, yes, it is very well to see things in that business point ofview," murmured Eustacia with a smothered fire of feeling. "But whyshould you think there is anything between me and Mr. Wildeve? I havea spirit as well as you. I am indignant; and so would any woman be.It was a condescension in me to be Clym's wife, and not a manoeuvre,let me remind you; and therefore I will not be treated as a schemerwhom it becomes necessary to bear with because she has crept into thefamily."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Yeobright, vainly endeavouring to control her anger."I have never heard anything to show that my son's lineage is not asgood as the Vyes'--perhaps better. It is amusing to hear you talk ofcondescension."
"It was condescension, nevertheless," said Eustacia vehemently. "Andif I had known then what I know now, that I should be living in thiswild heath a month after my marriage, I--I should have thought twicebefore agreeing."
"It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. Iam not aware that any deception was used on his part--I know there wasnot--whatever might have been the case on the other side."
"This is too exasperating!" answered the younger woman huskily, herface crimsoning, and her eyes darting light. "How can you dare tospeak to me like that? I insist upon repeating to you that had Iknown that my life would from my marriage up to this time have been asit is, I should have said NO. I don't complain. I have never uttereda sound of such a thing to him; but it is true. I hope therefore thatin the future you will be silent on my eagerness. If you injure menow you injure yourself."
"Injure you? Do you think I am an evil-disposed person?"
"You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me ofsecretly favouring another man for money!"
"I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of yououtside my house."
"You spoke of me within it, to Clym, and you could not do worse."
"I did my duty."
"And I'll do mine."
"A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. Itis always so. But why should I not bear it as others have borne itbefore me!"
"I understand you," said Eustacia, breathless with emotion. "Youthink me capable of every bad thing. Who can be worse than a wifewho encourages a lover, and poisons her husband's mind against hisrelative? Yet that is now the character given to me. Will you notcome and drag him out of my hands?"
Mrs. Yeobright gave back heat for heat.
"Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am notworth the injury you may do it on my account, I assure you. I am onlya poor old woman who has lost a son."
"If you had treated me honourably you would have had him still."Eustacia said, while scalding tears trickled from her eyes. "You havebrought yourself to folly; you have caused a division which can neverbe healed!"
"I have done nothing. This audacity from a young woman is more than Ican bear."
"It was asked for; you have suspected me, and you have made me speakof my husband in a way I would not have done. You will let him knowthat I have spoken thus, and it will cause misery between us. Willyou go away from me? You are no friend!"
"I will go when I have spoken a word. If anyone says I have comehere to question you without good grounds for it, that person speaksuntruly. If anyone says that I attempted to stop your marriage by anybut honest means, that person, too, does not speak the truth. I havefallen on an evil time; God has been unjust to me in letting youinsult me! Probably my son's happiness does not lie on this side ofthe grave, for he is a foolish man who neglects the advice of hisparent. You, Eustacia, stand on the edge of a precipice withoutknowing it. Only show my son one-half the temper you have shown metoday--and you may before long--and you will find that though he isas gentle as a child with you now, he can be as hard as steel!"
The excited mother then withdrew, and Eustacia, panting, stood lookinginto the pool.
