Page 34 of Far from the Madding Crowd

HOME AGAIN -- A TRICKSTER

THAT same evening at dusk Gabriel was leaning overCoggan's garden-gate, taking an up-and-down surveybefore retiring to rest.A vehicle of some kind was softly creeping alongthe grassy margin of the lane. From it spread thetones of two women talking. The tones were naturaland not at all suppressed. Oak instantly knew thevoices to he those of Bathsheba and Liddy.The carriage came opposite and passed by. It wasMiss Everdene's gig, and Liddy and her mistress werethe only occupants of the seat. Liddy was askingquestions about the city of Bath, and her companionwas answering them listlessly and unconcernedly. BothBathsheba and the horse seemed weary.The exquisite relief of finding that she was hereagain, safe and sound, overpowered all reflection, andOak could only luxuriate in the sense of it. All gravereports were forgotten.He lingered and lingered on, till there was nodifference between the eastern and western expansesof sky, and the timid hares began to limp courageouslyround the dim hillocks. Gabriel might have beenthere an additional half-hour when a dark form walkedslowly by. ”Good-night, Gabriel.” the passer said.It was Boldwood. ”Good-night, sir.” said Gabriel.Boldwood likewise vanished up the road, and Oakshortly afterwards turned indoors to bed.Farmer Boldwood went on towards Miss Everdene'shouse. He reached the front, and approaching theentrance, saw a light in the parlour. The blind wasnot drawn down, and inside the room was Bathsheba,looking over some papers or letters. Her back wastowards Boldwood. He went to the door, knocked,and waited with tense muscles and an aching brow.Boldwood had not been outside his garden sincehis meeting with Bathsheba in the road to Yalbury.Silent and alone, he had remained in moody medita-tion on woman's ways, deeming as essentials of thewhole sex the accidents of the single one of theirnumber he had ever closely beheld. By degrees amore charitable temper had pervaded him, and thiswas the reason of his sally to-night. He had come toapologize and beg forgiveness of Bathsheba with some-thing like a sense of shame at his violence, having butjust now learnt that she had returned -- only from avisit to Liddy, as he supposed, the Bath escapadebeing quite unknown to him.He inquired for Miss Everdene. Liddy's mannerwas odd, but he did not notice it. She went in, leavinghim standing there, and in her absence the blind of theroom containing Bathsheba was pulled down. Bold-wood augured ill from that sign. Liddy came out.”My mistress cannot see you, sir.” she said.The farmer instantly went out by the gate. Heas unforgiven -- that was the issue of it all. He hadseen her who was to him simultaneously a delight anda torture, sitting in the room he had shared with heras a peculiarly privileged guest only a little earlier inhe summer, and she had denied him an entrancethere now.Boldwood did not hurry homeward. It was teno'clock at least, when, walking deliberately through thelower part of Weatherbury, he heard the carrier's springvan entering the village. The van ran to and from atown in a northern direction, and it was owned anddriven by a Weatherbury man, at the door of whosehouse it now pulled up. The lamp fixed to the headof the hood illuminated a scarlet and gilded form, whowas the first to alight.”Ah!” said Boldwood to himself, ”come to see heragain.”Troy entered the carrier's house, which had beenthe place of his lodging on his last visit to his nativeplace. Boldwood was moved by a sudden determina-tion. He hastened home. In ten minutes he wasback again, and made as if he were going to call uponTroy at the carrier's. But as he approached, someone opened the door and came out. He heard thisperson say ” Good-night” to the inmates, and the voicewas Troy's. ”This was strange, coming so immediatelyafter his arrival. Boldwood, however, hastened upto him. Troy had what appeared to be a carpet-bagin his hand -- the same that he had brought with him.It seemed as if he were going to leave again this verynight.Troy turned up the hill and quickened his pace.Boldwood stepped forward.”Sergeant Troy?””Yes-i'm Sergeant Troy.””Just arrived from up the country, I think?”Just arrived from Bath.””I am William Boldwood.””Indeed.”The tone in which this word was uttered was allthat had been wanted to bring Boldwood to thepoint.”I wish to speak a word with you.” he said.”What about?””About her who lives just ahead there -- and abouta woman you have wronged.””I wonder at your impertinence.” said Troy, movingon.”Now look here.” said Boldwood, standing in frontof him, ” wonder or not, you are going to hold a conver-sation with me.”Troy heard the dull determination in Boldwood'svoice, looked at his stalwart frame, then at the thickcudgel he carried in his hand. He remembered it waspast ten o'clock. It seemed worth while to be civil toBoldwood.”Very well, I'll listen with pleasure.” said Troy,placing his bag on the ground, ”only speak low, forsomebody or other may overhear us in the farmhousethere.””Well then -- I know a good deal concerning yourFanny Robin's attachment to you. I may say, too, thatI believe I am the only person in the village, exceptingGabriel Oak, who does know it. You ought to marryher.””I suppose I ought. Indeed, l wish to, but Icannot.””Why?”Troy was about to utter something hastily; he thenchecked himself and said, ”I am too poor.” His voicewas changed. Previously it had had a devil-may-caretone. It was the voice of a trickster now.Boldwood's present mood was not critical enough tonotice tones. He continued, ”I may as well speakplainly; and understand, I don't wish to enter into thequestions of right or wrong, woman's honour and shame,or to express any opinion on your conduct. I intend abusiness transaction with you.””I see.” said Troy. ”Suppose we sit down here.”An old tree trunk lay under the hedge immediatelyopposite, and they sat down.The tone in which this word was uttered was allTroy heard the dull determination in Boldwood'svoice, looked at his stalwart frame, then at the thickplainly; and understand, I don't wish to enter into the”I was engaged to be married to Miss Everdene,”said Boldwood, ”but you came and -- -- ””Not engaged.” said Troy.”As good as engaged.””If I had not turned up she might have become en-gaged to you.””Hang might!”Would, then.””If you had not come I should certainly -- yes,certainly -- have been accepted by this time. If you hadnot seen her you might have been married to Fanny.Well, there's too much difference between Miss Ever-dene's station and your own for this flirtation with herever to benefit you by ending in marriage. So all I askis, don't molest her any more. Marry Fanny.make it worth your while.””How will you?””I'll pay you well now, I'll settle a sum of moneyupon her, and I'll see that you don't suffer from povertyin the future. I'll put it clearly. Bathsheba is onlyplaying with you: you are too poor for her as I said;so give up wasting your time about a great match you'llnever make for a moderate and rightful match you maymake to-morrow; take up your carpet-bag, turn about,leave Weatherbury now, this night, and you shall takefifty pounds with you. Fanny shall have fifty to enableher to prepare for the wedding, when you have told mewhere she is living, and she shall have five hundredpaid down on her wedding-day.”In making this statement Boldwood's voice revealedonly too clearly a consciousness of the weakness of hisposition, his aims, and his method. His manner hadlapsed quite from that of the firm and dignified Bold-wood of former times; and such a scheme as he hadnow engaged in he would have condemned as childishlyimbecile only a few months ago. We discern a grandforce in the lover which he lacks whilst a free man; butthere is a breadth of vision in the free man which inthe lover we vainly seek. Where there is much biasthere must be some narrowness, and love, though addedemotion, is subtracted capacity. Boldwood exemplifiedthis to an abnormal degree: he knew nothing of FannyRobin's circumstances or whereabouts, he knew nothingof Troy's possibilities, yet that was what he said.”I like Fanny best.” said Troy; ”and if, as you say,Miss Everdene is out of my reach, why I have all togain by accepting your money, and marrying Fan. Butshe's only a servant.””Never mind -- do you agree to my arrangement?””I do.””Ah!” said Boldwood, in a more elastic voice. ”O,Troy, if you like her best, why then did you step in hereand injure my happiness?””I love Fanny best now.” said Troy. ”ButBathsh -- -- Miss Everdene inflamed me, and displacedFanny for a time. It is over now.””Why should it be over so soon? And why thendid you come here again?””There are weighty reasons. Fifty pounds at once,you said!””I did.” said Boldwood, ” and here they are -- fiftysovereigns.” He handed Troy a small packet.”You have everything ready -- it seems that youcalculated on my accepting them.” said the sergeant,taking the packet.”I thought you might accept them.” said Boldwood.”You've only my word that the programme shall beadhered to, whilst I at any rate have fifty pounds.””l had thought of that, and l have considered thatif I can't appeal to your honour I can trust to your --well, shrewdness we'll call it -- not to lose five hundredpounds in prospect, and also make a bitter enemy of aman who is willing to be an extremely useful friend.””Stop, listen!” said Troy in a whisper.A light pit-pat was audible upon the road just abovethem.”By George -- 'tis she.” he continued. ”I must goon and meet her.””She -- who?””Bathsheba.””Bathsheba -- out alone at this time o' night!” saidBoldwood in amazement, and starting up.” Why mustyou meet her?””She was expecting me to-night -- and I must nowspeak to her, and wish her good-bye, according to yourwish. ””I don't see the necessity of speaking.””It can do no harm -- and she'll be wandering aboutlooking for me if I don't. You shall hear all I say to her.It will help you in your love-making when I am gone.””Your tone is mocking.””O no. And remember this, if she does not knowwhat has become of me, she will think more about methan if I tell her flatly I have come to give her up.””Will you confine your words to that one point? --Shall I hear every word you say?””Every word. Now sit still there, and hold my”carpet bag for me, and mark what you hear.”The light footstep came closer, halting occasionally,as if the walker listened for a sound. Troy whistled adouble note in a soft, fluty tone.”Come to that, is it!” murmured Boldwood, uneasily.”You promised silence.” said Troy.”I promise again.”Troy stepped forward.”Frank, dearest, is that you?” The tones wereBathsheba's.”O God!” said Boldwood.”Yes.” said Troy to her.”How late you are.” she continued, tenderly. ”Didyou come by the carrier? I listened and heard hiswheels entering the village, but it was some time ago,and I had almost given you up, Frank.””I was sure to come.” said Frank. ”You knew Ishould, did you not?””Well, I thought you would.” she said, playfully;”and, Frank, it is so lucky! There's not a soul in myhouse but me to-night. I've packed them all off sonobody on earth will know of your visit to your lady'sbower. Liddy wanted to go to her grandfather's totell him about her holiday, and I said she might staywith them till to-morrow -- when you'll be gone again.””Capital.” said Troy.” But, dear me, I. had bettergo back for my bag, because my slippers and brush andcomb are in it; you run home whilst I fetch it, and I'llpromise to be in your parlour in ten minutes.””Yes.” She turned and tripped up the hill again.During the progress of this dialogue there was anervous twitching of Boldwood's tightly closed lips, andhis face became bathed in a clammy dew. He nowstarted forward towards Troy. Troy turned to him andtook up the bag.”Shall I tell her I have come to give her up andcannot marry her?” said the soldier, mockingly.”No, no; wait a minute. I want to say more toyou -- more to you!” said Boldwood, in a hoarse whisper.”Now.” said Troy,” you see my dilemma. PerhapsI am a bad man -- the victim of my impulses -- led awayto do what I ought to leave undone. I can't, however,marry them both. And I have two reasons for- choosingFanny. First, I like her best upon the whole, andsecond, you make it worth my while.”At the same instant Boldwood sprang upon him, andheld him by the neck. Troy felt Boldwood's grasp slowlytightening. The move was absolutely unexpected.”A moment.” he gasped. ”You are injuring her youlove!””Well, what do you mean?” said the farmer.Give me breath.” said Troy.Boldwood loosened his hand, saying, ”By Heaven,I've a mind to kill you!””And ruin her.””Save her.””Oh, how can she be saved now, unless I marry her?”Boldwood groaned. He reluctantly released thesoldier, and flung him back against the hedge. ”Devil,you torture me!” said he.Troy rebounded like a ball, and was about to makea dash at the farmer; but he checked himself, sayinglightly --”It is not worth while to measure my strength withyou. Indeed it is a barbarous way of settling a quarrel.I shall shortly leave the army because of the sameconviction. Now after that revelation of how the landlies with Bathsheba, 'twould be a mistake to kill me,would it not?””'Twould be a mistake to kill you.” repeated Boldwood,mechanically, with a bowed head.”Better kill yourself.””Far better.””I'm glad you see it.””Troy, make her your wife, and don't act upon whatI arranged just now. The alternative is dreadful, buttake Bathsheba; I give her up! She must love youindeed to sell soul and body to you so utterly as shehas done. Wretched woman -- deluded woman -- youare, Bathsheba!””But about Fanny?””Bathsheba is a woman well to do.” continued Bold-wood, in nervous anxiety, and, Troy, she will make agood wife; and, indeed, she is worth your hasteningon your marriage with her! ””But she has a will-not to say a temper, and I shallbe a mere slave to her. I could do anything with poorFanny Robin.””Troy.” said Boldwood, imploringly,” I'll do anythingfor you, only don't desert her; pray don't desert her,Troy.””Which, poor Fanny?””No; Bathsheba Everdene. Love her best! Loveher tenderly! How shall I get you to see how advan-tageous it will be to you to secure her at once?””I don't wish to secure her in any new way.”Boldwood's arm moved spasmodically towards Troy'sperson again. He repressed the instinct, and his formdrooped as with pain.Troy went on --”I shall soon purchase my discharge, and then -- -- ””But I wish you to hasten on this marriage! It willbe better for you both. You love each other, and youmust let me help you to do it.””How?””Why, by settling the five hundred on Bathshebainstead of Fanny, to enable you to marry at once.No; she wouldn't have it of me. I'll pay it down toyou on the wedding-day.”Troy paused in secret amazement at Boldwood'swild infatuation. He carelessly said, ”And am I tohave anything now?””Yes, if you wish to. But I have not much additionalmoney with me. I did not expect this; but all I haveis yours.”Boldwood, more like a somnambulist than a wakefulman, pulled out the large canvas bag he carried by wayof a purse, and searched it.”I have twenty-one pounds more with me.” he said.”Two notes and a sovereign. But before I leave youI must have a paper signed -- -- ””Pay me the money, and we'll go straight to herparlour, and make any arrangement you please to securemy compliance with your wishes. But she must knownothing of this cash business.””Nothing, nothing.” said Boldwood, hastily. ”Hereis the sum, and if you'll come to my house we'll writeout the agreement for the remainder, and the termsalso.””First we'll call upon her.””But why? Come with me to-night, and go withme to-morrow to the surrogate's.””But she must be consulted; at any rate informed.””Very well; go on.”They went up the hill to Bathsheba's house. Whenthey stood at the entrance, Troy said, ”Wait here amoment.” Opening the door, he glided inside, leavingthe door ajar.Boldwood waited. In two minutes a light appearedin the passage. Boldwood then saw that the chainhad been fastened across the door. Troy appearedinside, carrying a bedroom candlestick.”What, did you think I should break in?” saidBoldwood, contemptuously.”Oh, no, it is merely my humour to secure things.Will you read this a moment? I'll hold the light.”Troy handed a folded newspaper through the slitbetween door and doorpost, and put the candle close.”That's the paragraph.” he said, placing his finger ona line.Boldwood looked and read --”MARRIAGES.”On the 17th inst., at St. Ambrose's Church, Bath,by the Rev. G. Mincing, B.A., Francis Troy, only sonof the late Edward Troy, Esq., H.D., of Weatherbury,and sergeant with Dragoon Guards, to Bathsheba, onlysurviving daughter of the late Mr, John Everdene, ofCasterbridge.””This may be called Fort meeting Feeble, hey,Boldwood?” said Troy. A low gurgle of derisivelaughter followed the words.The paper fell from Boldwood's hands. Troycontinued --”Fifty pounds to marry Fanny, Good. Twenty--one pounds not to marry Fanny, but Bathsheba. Good.Finale: already Bathsheba's husband. Now, Boldwood,yours is the ridiculous fate which always attends inter-ference between a man and his wife. And anotherword. Bad as I am, I am not such a villain as tomake the marriage or misery of any woman a matterof huckster and sale. Fanny has long ago left me.don't know where she is. I have searched everywhere.Another word yet. You say you love Bathsheba; yeton the merest apparent evidence you instantly believein her dishonour. A fig for such love! Now that I'vetaught you a lesson, take your money back again.””I will not; I will not!” said Boldwood, in a hiss.”Anyhow I won't have it.” said Troy, contemptuously.He wrapped the packet of gold in the notes, and threwthe whole into the road.Boldwood shook his clenched fist at him. ”Youjuggler of Satan! You black hound! But I'll punishyou yet; mark me, I'll punish you yet!”Another peal of laughter. Troy then closed thedoor, and locked himself in.Throughout the whole of that night Boldwood's darkdowns of Weatherbury like an unhappy Shade in theMournful Fields by Acheron.



CHAPTER XXXV