AT AN UPPER WINDOW
IT was very early the next morning -- a time of sun anddew. The confused beginnings of many birds' songsspread into the healthy air, and the wan blue of theheaven was here and there coated with thin webs ofincorporeal cloud which were of no effect in obscuringday. All the lights in the scene were yellow as tocolour, and all the shadows were attenuated as to form.The creeping plants about the old manor-house werebowed with rows of heavy water drops, which had uponobjects behind them the effect of minute lenses of highmagnifying power.Just before the clock struck five Gabriel Oak andCoggan passed the village cross, and went on togetherto the fields. They were yet barely in view of theirmistress's house, when Oak fancied he saw the openingof a casement in one of the upper windows. The twomen were at this moment partially screened by an elderbush, now beginning to be enriched with black bunchesof fruit, and they paused before emerging from itsshade.A handsome man leaned idly from the lattice. Helooked east and then west, in the manner of one whomakes a first morning survey. The man was SergeantTroy. His red jacket was loosely thrown on, but notbuttoned, and he had altogether the relaxed bearing ofa soldier taking his ease.Coggan spoke first, looking quietly at the window.She has married him! he said.Gabriel had previously beheld the sight, and he nowstood with his back turned, making no reply.I fancied we should know something to-day. con-tinued Coggan. I heard wheels pass my door justafter dark -- you were out somewhere.He glancedround upon Gabriel. Good heavens above us, Oak,how white your face is; you look like a corpse!Do I? said Oak, with a faint smile.Lean on the gate: I'll wait a bit.All right, all right.They stood by the gate awhile, Gabriel listlesslystaring at the ground. His mind sped into the future,and saw there enacted in years of leisure the scenes orepentance that would ensue from this work of hasteThat they were married he had instantly decided. Whyhad it been so mysteriously managed? It had becomeknown that she had had a fearful journey to Bath, owingto her miscalculating the distance: that the horse hadbroken down, and that she had been more than twodays getting there. It was not Bathsheba's way to dothings furtively. With all her faults, she was candouritself. Could she have been entrapped? The unionwas not only an unutterable grief to him: it amazedhim, notwithstanding that he had passed the precedingweek in a suspicion that such might be the issue ofTroy's meeting her away from home. Her quiet returnwith liddy had to some extent dispersed the dread.Just as that imperceptible motion which appears likestillness is infinitely divided in its properties from stiliness itself, so had his hope undistinguishable fromdespair differed from despair indeed.In a few minutes they moved on again towards thehouse. The sergeant still looked from the window.Morning, comrades! he shouted, in a cheery voice,when they came up.Coggan replied to the greeting. Bain't ye going toanswer the man? he then said to Gabriel. I'd saygood morning -- you needn't spend a hapenny of meaningupon it, and yet keep the man civil.Gabriel soon decided too that, since the deed wasdone, to put the best face upon the matter would be thegreatest kindness to her he loved.Good morning, Sergeant Troy. he returned, in aghastly voice.A rambling, gloomy house this. said Troy, smiling.Why -- they may not be married! suggested Coggan.Perhaps she's not there.Gabriel shook his head. The soldier turned a littletowards the east, and the sun kindled his scarlet coatto an orange glow.But it is a nice old house. responded Gabriel.Yes -- I suppose so; but I feel like new wine in anold bottle here. My notion is that sash-windows shouldbe put throughout, and these old wainscoted wallsbrightened up a bit; or the oak cleared quite away, andthe walls papered.It would be a pity, I think.Well, no. A philosopher once said in my hearingthat the old builders, who worked when art was a livingthing, had no respect for the work of builders who wentbefore them, but pulled down and altered as theythought fit; and why shouldn't we?'Creation andpreservation don't do well together. says he, and amillion of antiquarians can't invent a style. My mindexactly. I am for making this place more modern, thatwe may be cheerful whilst we can.The military man turned and surveyed the interiorof the room, to assist his ideas of improvement in thisdirection. Gabriel and Coggan began to move on.Oh, Coggan. said Troy, as if inspired by a recollec-tion do you know if insanity has ever appeared in Mr.Boldwood's family?Jan reflected for a moment.I once heard that an uncle of his was queer in hishead, but I don't know the rights o't. he said.It is of no importance. said Troy, lightly. Well,I shall be down in the fields with you some time thisweek; but I have a few matters to attend to first. Sogood-day to you. We shall, of course, keep on just asfriendly terms as usual. I'm not a proud man: nobodyis ever able to say that of Sergeant Troy. However,what is must be, and here's half-a-crown to drink myhealth, men.Troy threw the coin dexterously across the front plotand over the fence towards Gabriel, who shunned it inits fall, his face turning to an angry red. Coggantwirled his eye, edged forward, and caught the moneyin its ricochet upon the road.very well-you keep it, Coggan. said Gabriel withdisdain and almost fiercely. As for me, I'll do with-out gifts from him!Don't show it too much. said Coggan, musingly.For if he's married to her, mark my words, he'll buyhis discharge and be our master here. Therefore 'tiswell to say `Friend' outwardly, though you say`Troublehouse' within.Well-perhaps it is best to be silent; but I can'tgo further than that. I can't flatter, and if my placehere is only to be kept by smoothing him down, myplace must be lost.A horseman, whom they had for some time seen inthe distance, now appeared close beside them.There's Mr. Boldwood. said Oak. I wonder whatTroy meant by his question.Coggan and Oak nodded respectfully to the farmer,just checked their paces to discover if they were wanted,and finding they were not stood back to let him pass on.The only signs of the terrible sorrow Boldwood hadbeen combating through the night, and was combatingnow, were the want of colour in his well-defined face,the enlarged appearance of the veins in his foreheadand temples, and the sharper lines about his mouth.The horse bore him away, and the very step of theanimal seemed significant of dogged despair. Gabriel, fora minute, rose above his own grief in noticing Boldwood's.He saw the square figure sitting erect upon the horse,the head turned to neither side, the elbows steady bythe hips, the brim of the hat level and undisturbed inits onward glide, until the keen edges of Boldwood'sshape sank by degrees over the hill. To one who knewthe man and his story there was something more strikingin this immobility than in a collapse. The clash ofdiscord between mood and matter here was forcedpainfully home to the heart; and, as in laughter there aremore dreadful phases than in tears, so was there in thesteadiness of this agonized man an expression deeperthan a cry.
CHAPTER XXXVI