The Return of the Native

by Thomas Hardy

  She was soon ascending Blooms-End valley and traversing theundulations on the side of the hill. The noise of the wind over theheath was shrill, and as if it whistled for joy at finding a nightso congenial as this. Sometimes the path led her to hollows betweenthickets of tall and dripping bracken, dead, though not yet prostrate,which enclosed her like a pool. When they were more than usually tallshe lifted the baby to the top of her head, that it might be out ofthe reach of their drenching fronds. On higher ground, where the windwas brisk and sustained, the rain flew in a level flight withoutsensible descent, so that it was beyond all power to imagine theremoteness of the point at which it left the bosoms of the clouds.Here self-defence was impossible, and individual drops stuck intoher like the arrows into Saint Sebastian. She was enabled to avoidpuddles by the nebulous paleness which signified their presence,though beside anything less dark than the heath they themselves wouldhave appeared as blackness.

  Yet in spite of all this Thomasin was not sorry that she had started.To her there were not, as to Eustacia, demons in the air, and malicein every bush and bough. The drops which lashed her face were notscorpions, but prosy rain; Egdon in the mass was no monster whatever,but impersonal open ground. Her fears of the place were rational,her dislikes of its worst moods reasonable. At this time it was inher view a windy, wet place, in which a person might experience muchdiscomfort, lose the path without care, and possibly catch cold.

  If the path is well known the difficulty at such times of keepingtherein is not altogether great, from its familiar feel to the feet;but once lost it is irrecoverable. Owing to her baby, who somewhatimpeded Thomasin's view forward and distracted her mind, she did atlast lose the track. This mishap occurred when she was descending anopen slope about two-thirds home. Instead of attempting, by wanderinghither and thither, the hopeless task of finding such a mere thread,she went straight on, trusting for guidance to her general knowledgeof the contours, which was scarcely surpassed by Clym's or by that ofthe heath-croppers themselves.

  At length Thomasin reached a hollow and began to discern through therain a faint blotted radiance, which presently assumed the oblong formof an open door. She knew that no house stood hereabouts, and wassoon aware of the nature of the door by its height above the ground.

  "Why, it is Diggory Venn's van, surely!" she said.

  A certain secluded spot near Rainbarrow was, she knew, often Venn'schosen centre when staying in this neighbourhood; and she guessed atonce that she had stumbled upon this mysterious retreat. The questionarose in her mind whether or not she should ask him to guide her intothe path. In her anxiety to reach home she decided that she wouldappeal to him, notwithstanding the strangeness of appearing beforehis eyes at this place and season. But when, in pursuance of thisresolve, Thomasin reached the van and looked in she found it to beuntenanted; though there was no doubt that it was the reddleman's.The fire was burning in the stove, the lantern hung from the nail.Round the doorway the floor was merely sprinkled with rain, and notsaturated, which told her that the door had not long been opened.

  While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstepadvancing from the darkness behind her, and turning, beheld thewell-known form in corduroy, lurid from head to foot, the lanternbeams falling upon him through an intervening gauze of raindrops.

  "I thought you went down the slope," he said, without noticing herface. "How do you come back here again?"

  "Diggory?" said Thomasin faintly.

  "Who are you?" said Venn, still unperceiving. "And why were youcrying so just now?"

  "O, Diggory! don't you know me?" said she. "But of course you don't,wrapped up like this. What do you mean? I have not been crying here,and I have not been here before."

  Venn then came nearer till he could see the illuminated side of herform.

  "Mrs. Wildeve!" he exclaimed, starting. "What a time for us to meet!And the baby too! What dreadful thing can have brought you out on sucha night as this?"

  She could not immediately answer; and without asking her permission hehopped into his van, took her by the arm, and drew her up after him.

  "What is it?" he continued when they stood within.

  "I have lost my way coming from Blooms-End, and I am in a great hurryto get home. Please show me as quickly as you can! It is so silly ofme not to know Egdon better, and I cannot think how I came to lose thepath. Show me quickly, Diggory, please."

  "Yes, of course. I will go with 'ee. But you came to me before this,Mrs. Wildeve?"

  "I only came this minute."

  "That's strange. I was lying down here asleep about five minutes ago,with the door shut to keep out the weather, when the brushing of awoman's clothes over the heath-bushes just outside woke me up (for Idon't sleep heavy), and at the same time I heard a sobbing or cryingfrom the same woman. I opened my door and held out my lantern, andjust as far as the light would reach I saw a woman: she turned herhead when the light sheened on her, and then hurried on downhill. Ihung up the lantern, and was curious enough to pull on my things anddog her a few steps, but I could see nothing of her any more. Thatwas where I had been when you came up; and when I saw you I thoughtyou were the same one."

  "Perhaps it was one of the heath-folk going home?"

  "No, it couldn't be. 'Tis too late. The noise of her gown over thehe'th was of a whistling sort that nothing but silk will make."

  "It wasn't I, then. My dress is not silk, you see... Are we anywherein a line between Mistover and the inn?"

  "Well, yes; not far out."

  "Ah, I wonder if it was she! Diggory, I must go at once!"

  She jumped down from the van before he was aware, when Venn unhookedthe lantern and leaped down after her. "I'll take the baby, ma'am,"he said. "You must be tired out by the weight."

  Thomasin hesitated a moment, and then delivered the baby into Venn'shands. "Don't squeeze her, Diggory," she said, "or hurt her littlearm; and keep the cloak close over her like this, so that the rain maynot drop in her face."

  "I will," said Venn earnestly. "As if I could hurt anything belongingto you!"

  "I only meant accidentally," said Thomasin.

  "The baby is dry enough, but you are pretty wet," said the reddlemanwhen, in closing the door of his cart to padlock it, he noticed on thefloor a ring of water drops where her cloak had hung from her.

  Thomasin followed him as he wound right and left to avoid the largerbushes, stopping occasionally and covering the lantern, while helooked over his shoulder to gain some idea of the position ofRainbarrow above them, which it was necessary to keep directly behindtheir backs to preserve a proper course.

  "You are sure the rain does not fall upon baby?"

  "Quite sure. May I ask how old he is, ma'am?"

  "He!" said Thomasin reproachfully. "Anybody can see better than thatin a moment. She is nearly two months old. How far is it now to theinn?"

  "A little over a quarter of a mile."

  "Will you walk a little faster?"

  "I was afraid you could not keep up."

  "I am very anxious to get there. Ah, there is a light from thewindow!"

  "'Tis not from the window. That's a gig-lamp, to the best of mybelief."

  "O!" said Thomasin in despair. "I wish I had been there sooner--giveme the baby, Diggory--you can go back now."

  "I must go all the way," said Venn. "There is a quag between us andthat light, and you will walk into it up to your neck unless I takeyou round."

  "But the light is at the inn, and there is no quag in front of that."

  "No, the light is below the inn some two or three hundred yards."

  "Never mind," said Thomasin hurriedly. "Go towards the light, and nottowards the inn."

  "Yes," answered Venn, swerving round in obedience; and, after a pause,"I wish you would tell me what this great trouble is. I think youhave proved that I can be trusted."

  "There are some things that cannot be--cannot be told to--" And thenher heart rose into her throat, and she could say no more.