OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS -- SNOW -- A MEETING
FOR dreariness nothing could surpass a prospect in theoutskirts of a certain town and military station, manymiles north of Weatherbury, at a later hour on thissame snowy evening -- if that may be called a prospectof which the chief constituent was darkness.It was a night when sorrow may come to thebrightest without causing any great sense of incongruity:when, with impressible persons, love becomes solicitous-ness, hope sinks to misgiving, and faith to hope: whenthe exercise of memory does not stir feelings of regretat opportunities for ambition that have been passed by,and anticipation does not prompt to enterprise.The scene was a public path, bordered on the lefthand by a river, behind which rose a high wall. Onthe right was a tract of land, partly meadow'and partlymoor, reaching, at its remote verge, to a wide undulatinguplan.The changes of the seasons are less obtrusive onspots of this kind than amid woodland scenery. Still,to a close observer, they are just as perceptible; thedifference is that their media of manifestation are lesstrite and familiar than such well-known ones as thebursting of the buds or the fall of the leaf. Many arenot so stealthy and gradual as we may be apt toimagine in considering the general torpidity of a mooror waste. Winter, in coming to the country hereabout,advanced in well-marked stages, wherein might havebeen successively observed the retreat of the snakes,the transformation of the ferns, the filling of the pools,a rising of fogs, the embrowning by frost, the collapseof the fungi, and an obliteration by snow.This climax of the series had been reached to-night onthe aforesaid moor, and for the first time in the seasonits irregularities were forms without features; suggestiveof anything, proclaiming nothing, and without morecharacter than that of being the limit of somethingelse -- the lowest layer of a firmament of snow. Fromthis chaotic skyful of crowding flakes the mead andmoor momentarily received additional clothing, onlyto appear momentarily more naked thereby. The vastarch of cloud above was strangely low, and formed asit were the roof of a large dark cavern, gradually sinkingin upon its floor; for the instinctive thought was thatthe snow lining the heavens and that encrusting theearth would soon unite into one mass without anyintervening stratum of air at all.We turn our attention to the left-hand characteristics;which were flatness in respect of the river, verticalityin respect of the wall behind it, and darkness as toboth. These features made up the mass. If anythingcould be darker than the sky, it was the wall, and if anything could be gloomier than the wall it was the riverbeneath. The indistinct summit of the facade wasnotched and pronged by chimneys here and there, andupon its face were faintly signified the oblong shapesof windows, though only in the upper part. Below,down to the water's edge, the flat was unbroken byhole or projection.An indescribable succession of dull blows, perplexingin their regularity, sent their sound- with difficultythrough the fluffy atmosphere. It was a neighbouringclock striking ten The bell was in the open air, andbeing overlaid with several inches of muffling snow, hadlost its voice for the time.About this hour the snow abated: ten flakes fellwhere twenty had fallen, then one had the room often. Not long after a form moved by the brink ofthe river.By its outline upon the colourless background, a closeobserver might have seen that it was small. This wasall that was positively discoverable, though it seemedhuman.The shape went slowly along, but without muchexertion, for the snow, though sudden, was not as yetmore than two inches deep. At this time some wordswere spoken aloud: --One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Between each utterance the little shape advancedabout half a dozen yards. It was evident now thatthe windows high in the wall were being counted.The word Five represented the fifth window fromthe end of the wall.Here the spot stopped, and dwindled smaller. Thefigure was stooping. Then a morsel of snow flewacross the river towards the fifth window. It smackedagainst the wall at a point several yards from its mark.The throw was the idea of a man conjoined with theexecution of a woman. No man who had ever seen bird,rabbit, or squirrel in his childhood, could possibly havethrown with such utter imbecility as was shown here.Another attempt, and another; till by degrees thewall must have become pimpled with the adheringlumps of snow At last one fragment struck the fifthwindow.The river would have been; seen by day to be ofthat deep smooth sort which races middle and sideswith the same gliding precision, any irregularities ofspeed being immediately corrected by a small whirl-pool. Nothing was heard in reply to the signal butthe gurgle and cluck of one of these invisible wheels --together with a few small sounds which a sad manwould have called moans, and a happy man laughter --caused by the flapping of the waters against triflingobjects in other parts of the stream.The window was struck again in the same manner.Then a noise was heard, apparently produced bythe opening of the window. This was followed by avoice from the same quarter.Who's there?The tones were masculine, and not those of surprise.The high wall being that of a barrack, and marriagebeing looked upon with disfavour in the army, assigna-tions and communications had probably been madeacross the river before tonight.Is it Sergeant Troy? said the blurred spot in thesnow, tremulously.This person was so much like a mere shade uponthe earth, and the other speaker so much a part ofthe building, that one would have said the wall washolding a conversation with the snow.Yes. came suspiciously from the shadow. Whatgirl are you?O, Frank -- don't you know me? said the spot.Your wife, Fanny Robin.Fanny! said the wall, in utter astonishment.Yes. said the girl, with a half-suppressed gasp ofemotion.There was something in the woman's tone which isnot that of the wife, and there was a mannerin the manwhich is rarely a husband's. The dialogue went on:How did you come here?I asked which was your window. Forgive me!I did not expect you to-night. Indeed, I did notthink you would come at all. It was a wonder youfound me here. I am orderly to-morrow.You said I was to come.Well -- I said that you might.Yes, I mean that I might. You are glad to see me,Frank?O yes -- of course.Can you -- come to me!My dear Fan, no! The bugle has sounded, thebarrack gates are closed, and I have no leave. We areall of us as good as in the county gaol till to-morrowmorning.Then I shan't see you till then! The words- werein a faltering tone of disappointment.How did you get here from Weatherbury?I walked -- some part of the way -- the rest by thecarriers.I am surprised.Yes -- so am I. And Frank, when will it be?What?That you promised.I don't quite recollect.O You do! Don't speak like that. It weighs meto the earth. It makes me say what ought to be saidfirst by you.Never mind -- say it.O, must I? -- it is, when shall we be married,Frank?Oh, I see. Well -- you have to get properclothes.I have money. Will it be by banns or license?Banns, I should think.And we live in two parishes.Do we? What then?My lodgings are in St. Mary's, and this is not. Sothey will have to be published in both.Is that the law?Yes. O Frank -- you think me forward, I amafraid! Don't, dear Frank -- will you -- for I love you so.And you said lots of times you would marry me, andand -- I -- I -- I -- -- Don't cry, now! It is foolish. If i said so, ofcourse I will.And shall I put up the banns in my parish, and willyou in yours?YesTo-morrow?Not tomorrow. We'll settle in a few days.You have the permission of the officers?No, not yet.O -- how is it? You said you almost had beforeyou left Casterbridge.The fact is, I forgot to ask. Your coming like thisI'll go away now. Will you **qoDe,and seq be to-morroyis so sudden and unexpected.Yes -- yes -- it is. It was wrong of me to worry you.I'll go away now. Will you come and see me to-morrow,at Mrs. Twills's, in North Street? I don't like to cometo the Barracks. There are bad women about, and theythink me one.Quite,so. I'll come to you, my dean Good-night.Good-night, Frank -- good-night!And the noise was again heard of a window closingThe little spot moved away. When she passed thecorner a subdued exclamation was heard inside thewall.Ho -- ho -- Sergeant -- ho -- ho! An expostulationfollowed, but it was indistinct; and it became lost amida low peal of laughter, which was hardly distinguishablefrom the gurgle of the tiny whirlpools outside.
CHAPTER XII