by Thomas Hardy
V
An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated
Charley's attentions to his former mistress were unbounded. The onlysolace to his own trouble lay in his attempts to relieve hers. Hourafter hour he considered her wants: he thought of her presence therewith a sort of gratitude, and, while uttering imprecations on thecause of her unhappiness, in some measure blessed the result. Perhapsshe would always remain there, he thought, and then he would be ashappy as he had been before. His dread was lest she should think fitto return to Alderworth, and in that dread his eyes, with all theinquisitiveness of affection, frequently sought her face when she wasnot observing him, as he would have watched the head of a stockdoveto learn if it contemplated flight. Having once really succoured her,and possibly preserved her from the rashest of acts, he mentallyassumed in addition a guardian's responsibility for her welfare.
For this reason he busily endeavoured to provide her with pleasantdistractions, bringing home curious objects which he found in theheath, such as white trumpet-shaped mosses, red-headed lichens, stonearrow-heads used by the old tribes on Egdon, and faceted crystals fromthe hollows of flints. These he deposited on the premises in suchpositions that she should see them as if by accident.
A week passed, Eustacia never going out of the house. Then she walkedinto the enclosed plot and looked through her grandfather's spy-glass,as she had been in the habit of doing before her marriage. One dayshe saw, at a place where the high-road crossed the distant valley,a heavily laden waggon passing along. It was piled with householdfurniture. She looked again and again, and recognized it to be herown. In the evening her grandfather came indoors with a rumour thatYeobright had removed that day from Alderworth to the old house atBlooms-End.
On another occasion when reconnoitring thus she beheld two femalefigures walking in the vale. The day was fine and clear; and thepersons not being more than half a mile off she could see their everydetail with the telescope. The woman walking in front carried a whitebundle in her arms, from one end of which hung a long appendage ofdrapery; and when the walkers turned, so that the sun fell moredirectly upon them, Eustacia could see that the object was a baby.She called Charley, and asked him if he knew who they were, thoughshe well guessed.
"Mrs. Wildeve and the nurse-girl," said Charley.
"The nurse is carrying the baby?" said Eustacia.
"No, 'tis Mrs. Wildeve carrying that," he answered, "and the nursewalks behind carrying nothing."
The lad was in good spirits that day, for the Fifth of November hadagain come round, and he was planning yet another scheme to diverther from her too absorbing thoughts. For two successive years hismistress had seemed to take pleasure in lighting a bonfire on thebank overlooking the valley; but this year she had apparently quiteforgotten the day and the customary deed. He was careful not toremind her, and went on with his secret preparations for a cheerfulsurprise, the more zealously that he had been absent last time andunable to assist. At every vacant minute he hastened to gatherfurze-stumps, thorn-tree roots, and other solid materials from theadjacent slopes, hiding them from cursory view.
The evening came, and Eustacia was still seemingly unconscious of theanniversary. She had gone indoors after her survey through the glass,and had not been visible since. As soon as it was quite dark Charleybegan to build the bonfire, choosing precisely that spot on the bankwhich Eustacia had chosen at previous times.
When all the surrounding bonfires had burst into existence Charleykindled his, and arranged its fuel so that it should not requiretending for some time. He then went back to the house, and lingeredround the door and windows till she should by some means or otherlearn of his achievement and come out to witness it. But the shutterswere closed, the door remained shut, and no heed whatever seemed tobe taken of his performance. Not liking to call her he went back andreplenished the fire, continuing to do this for more than half anhour. It was not till his stock of fuel had greatly diminished thathe went to the back door and sent in to beg that Mrs. Yeobright wouldopen the window-shutters and see the sight outside.
Eustacia, who had been sitting listlessly in the parlour, started upat the intelligence and flung open the shutters. Facing her on thebank blazed the fire, which at once sent a ruddy glare into the roomwhere she was, and overpowered the candles.
"Well done, Charley!" said Captain Vye from the chimney-corner. "ButI hope it is not my wood that he's burning... Ah, it was this timelast year that I met with that man Venn, bringing home ThomasinYeobright--to be sure it was! Well, who would have thought that girl'stroubles would have ended so well? What a snipe you were in thatmatter, Eustacia! Has your husband written to you yet?"
"No," said Eustacia, looking vaguely through the window at the fire,which just then so much engaged her mind that she did not resent hergrandfather's blunt opinion. She could see Charley's form on thebank, shovelling and stirring the fire; and there flashed upon herimagination some other form which that fire might call up.
She left the room, put on her garden-bonnet and cloak, and wentout. Reaching the bank, she looked over with a wild curiosity andmisgiving, when Charley said to her, with a pleased sense of himself,"I made it o' purpose for you, ma'am."
"Thank you," she said hastily. "But I wish you to put it out now."
"It will soon burn down," said Charley, rather disappointed. "Is itnot a pity to knock it out?"
"I don't know," she musingly answered.
They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames,till Charley, perceiving that she did not want to talk to him, movedreluctantly away.
Eustacia remained within the bank looking at the fire, intending togo indoors, yet lingering still. Had she not by her situation beeninclined to hold in indifference all things honoured of the godsand of men she would probably have come away. But her state was sohopeless that she could play with it. To have lost is less disturbingthan to wonder if we may possibly have won: and Eustacia could now,like other people at such a stage, take a standing-point outsideherself, observe herself as a disinterested spectator, and think whata sport for Heaven this woman Eustacia was.
While she stood she heard a sound. It was the splash of a stone inthe pond.
Had Eustacia received the stone full in the bosom her heart could nothave given a more decided thump. She had thought of the possibilityof such a signal in answer to that which had been unwittingly given byCharley; but she had not expected it yet. How prompt Wildeve was! Yethow could he think her capable of deliberately wishing to renew theirassignations now? An impulse to leave the spot, a desire to stay,struggled within her; and the desire held its own. More than that itdid not do, for she refrained even from ascending the bank and lookingover. She remained motionless, not disturbing a muscle of her face orraising her eyes; for were she to turn up her face the fire on thebank would shine upon it, and Wildeve might be looking down.
There was a second splash into the pond.
Why did he stay so long without advancing and looking over? Curiosityhad its way: she ascended one or two of the earth-steps in the bankand glanced out.
Wildeve was before her. He had come forward after throwing the lastpebble, and the fire now shone into each of their faces from the bankstretching breast-high between them.
"I did not light it!" cried Eustacia quickly. "It was lit without myknowledge. Don't, don't come over to me!"
"Why have you been living here all these days without telling me? Youhave left your home. I fear I am something to blame for this?"
"I did not let in his mother; that's how it is!"
"You do not deserve what you have got, Eustacia; you are in greatmisery; I see it in your eyes, your mouth, and all over you. My poor,poor girl!" He stepped over the bank. "You are beyond everythingunhappy!"
"No, no; not exactly--"
"It has been pushed too far--it is killing you: I do think it!"
Her usually quiet breathing had grown quicker with his words."I--I--" she began, and then burst into quivering sobs, shaken tothe very heart by the u
nexpected voice of pity--a sentiment whoseexistence in relation to herself she had almost forgotten.
This outbreak of weeping took Eustacia herself so much by surprisethat she could not leave off, and she turned aside from him in someshame, though turning hid nothing from him. She sobbed on desperately;then the outpour lessened, and she became quieter. Wildeve hadresisted the impulse to clasp her, and stood without speaking.
"Are you not ashamed of me, who used never to be a crying animal?"she asked in a weak whisper as she wiped her eyes. "Why didn't you goaway? I wish you had not seen quite all that; it reveals too much byhalf."
"You might have wished it, because it makes me as sad as you," he saidwith emotion and deference. "As for revealing--the word is impossiblebetween us two."
"I did not send for you--don't forget it, Damon; I am in pain, but Idid not send for you! As a wife, at least, I've been straight."
"Never mind--I came. O, Eustacia, forgive me for the harm I have doneyou in these two past years! I see more and more that I have been yourruin."
"Not you. This place I live in."
"Ah, your generosity may naturally make you say that. But I am theculprit. I should either have done more or nothing at all."
"In what way?"
"I ought never to have hunted you out, or, having done it, I oughtto have persisted in retaining you. But of course I have no right totalk of that now. I will only ask this: can I do anything for you?Is there anything on the face of the earth that a man can do to makeyou happier than you are at present? If there is, I will do it. Youmay command me, Eustacia, to the limit of my influence; and don'tforget that I am richer now. Surely something can be done to saveyou from this! Such a rare plant in such a wild place it grieves meto see. Do you want anything bought? Do you want to go anywhere? Doyou want to escape the place altogether? Only say it, and I'll doanything to put an end to those tears, which but for me would neverhave been at all."
"We are each married to another person," she said faintly; "andassistance from you would have an evil sound--after--after--"
"Well, there's no preventing slanderers from having their fill at anytime; but you need not be afraid. Whatever I may feel I promise youon my word of honour never to speak to you about--or act upon--untilyou say I may. I know my duty to Thomasin quite as well as I know myduty to you as a woman unfairly treated. What shall I assist you in?"
"In getting away from here."
"Where do you wish to go to?"
"I have a place in my mind. If you could help me as far as BudmouthI can do all the rest. Steamers sail from there across the Channel,and so I can get to Paris, where I want to be. Yes," she pleadedearnestly, "help me to get to Budmouth harbour without mygrandfather's or my husband's knowledge, and I can do all the rest."
"Will it be safe to leave you there alone?"
"Yes, yes. I know Budmouth well."
"Shall I go with you? I am rich now."
She was silent.
"Say yes, sweet!"
She was silent still.
"Well, let me know when you wish to go. We shall be at our presenthouse till December; after that we remove to Casterbridge. Command mein anything till that time."
"I will think of this," she said hurriedly. "Whether I can honestlymake use of you as a friend, or must close with you as a lover--thatis what I must ask myself. If I wish to go and decide to accept yourcompany I will signal to you some evening at eight o'clock punctually,and this will mean that you are to be ready with a horse and trap attwelve o'clock the same night to drive me to Budmouth harbour in timefor the morning boat."
"I will look out every night at eight, and no signal shall escape me."
"Now please go away. If I decide on this escape I can only meet youonce more unless--I cannot go without you. Go--I cannot bear itlonger. Go--go!"
Wildeve slowly went up the steps and descended into the darknesson the other side; and as he walked he glanced back, till the bankblotted out her form from his further view.
