RAIN -- ONE SOLITARY MEETS ANOTHER
IT was now five o'clock, and the dawn was promisingto break in hues of drab and ash.The air changed its temperature and stirred itselfmore vigorously. Cool breezes coursed in transparenteddies round Oak's face. The wind shifted yet a pointor two and blew stronger. In ten minutes every windof heaven seemed to be roaming at large. Some of thethatching on the wheat-stacks was now whirled fantas-tically aloft, and had to be replaced and weighted withsome rails that lay near at hand. This done, Oak slavedaway again at the barley. A huge drop of rain smotehis face, the wind snarled round every corner, the treesrocked to the bases of their trunks, and the twigs clashedin strife. Driving in spars at any point and on anysystem, inch by inch he covered more and more safelyfrom ruin this distracting impersonation of seven hundredpounds. The rain came on in earnest, and Oak soon feltthe water to be tracking cold and clammy routes downhis back. Ultimately he was reduced well-nigh to ahomogeneous sop, and the dyes of his clothes trickleddown and stood in a pool at the foot of the ladder.The rain stretched obliquely through the dull atmo-sphere in liquid spines, unbroken in continuity betweentheir beginnings in the clouds and their points in him.Oak suddenly remembered that eight months beforethis time he had been fighting against fire in the samespot as desperately as he was fighting against waternow -- and for a futile love of the same woman. As forher -- -- But Oak was generous and true, and dis-missed his reflections.It was about seven o'clock in the dark leadenmorning when Gabriel came down from the last stack,and thankfully exclaimed, It is done! He wasdrenched, weary, and sad, and yet not so sad as drenchedand weary, for he was cheered by a sense of success ina good cause.Faint sounds came from the barn, and he lookedthat way. Figures stepped singly and in pairs throughthe doors -- all walking awkwardly, and abashed, savethe foremost, who wore a red jacket, and advancedwith his hands in his pockets, whistling. The othersshambled after with a conscience-stricken air: the wholeprocession was not unlike Flaxman's group of the suitorstottering on towards the infernal regions under theconduct of Mercury. The gnarled shapes passed intothe village, Troy, their leader, entering the farmhouse.Not a single one of them had turned his face to thericks, or apparently bestowed one thought upon theircondition.Soon Oak too went homeward, by a different routefrom theirs. In front of him against the wet glazedsurface of the lane he saw a person walking yet moreslowly than himself under an umbrella. The manturned and plainly started; he was Boldwood.How are you this morning, sir? said Oak.Yes, it is a wet day. -- Oh, I am well, very well, Ithank you; quite well.I am glad to hear it, sir.Boldwood seemed to awake to the present by degrees.You look tired and ill, Oak. he said then, desultorilyregarding his companion.I am tired. You look strangely altered, sir.I? Not a bit of it: I am well enough. What putthat into your head?I thought you didn't look quite so topping as youused to, that was all.Indeed, then you are mistaken. said Boldwood,shortly. Nothing hurts me. My constitution is aniron one.I've been working hard to get our ricks covered,and was barely in time. Never had such a struggle inmy life.... Yours of course are safe, sir.O yes. Boldwood added, after an interval ofsilence: What did you ask, Oak?Your ricks are all covered before this time?No.At any rate, the large ones upon the stone staddles?They are not.Them under the hedge?No. I forgot to tell the thatcher to set about it.Nor the little one by the stile?Nor the little one by the stile. Ioverlooked thericks this year.Then not a tenth of your corn will come to measure,sir.Possibly not.Overlooked them. repeated Gabriel slowly to him-self. It is difficult to describe the intensely dramaticeffect that announcement had upon Oak at such amoment. All the night he had been feeling that theneglect he was labouring to repair was abnormal andisolated -- the only instance of the kind within the circuitof the county. Yet at this very time, within the sameparish, a greater waste had been going on, uncomplainedof and disregarded. A few months earlier Boldwood'sforgetting his husbandry would have been as preposter-ous an idea as a sailor forgetting he was in a ship. Oakwas just thinking that whatever he himself might havesuffered from Bathsheba's marriage, here was a manwho had suffered more, when Boldwood spoke in achanged voice -- that of one who yearned to make aconfidence and relieve his heart by an outpouring.Oak, you know as well as I that things have gonewrong with me lately. I may as well own it. I wasgoing to get a little settled in life; but in some way myplan has come to nothing.I thought my mistress would have married you,said Gabriel, not knowing enough of the full depths ofBoldwood's love to keep silence on the farmer's account,and determined not to evade discipline by doing so onhis own. However, it is so sometimes, and nothinghappens that we expect. he added, with the repose ofa man whom misfortune had inured rather than sub-dued.I daresay I am a joke about the parish. said Bold-wood, as if the subject came irresistibly to his tongue,and with a miserable lightness meant to express hisindifference.O no -- I don't think that. -- But the real truth of the matter is that there wasnot, as some fancy, any jilting on -- her part. Noengagement ever existed between me and Miss Ever-dene. People say so, but it is untrue: she neverpromised me! Boldwood stood still now and turnedhis wild face to Oak. O, Gabriel. he continued, Iam weak and foolish, and I don't know what, and Ican't fend off my miserable grief! ... I had some faintbelief in the mercy of God till I lost that woman. Yes,He prepared a gourd to shade me, and like the prophetI thanked Him and was glad. But the next day Heprepared a worm to smite the gourd and wither it; andI feel it is better to die than to live!A silence followed. Boldwood aroused himself fromthe momentary mood of confidence into which he haddrifted, and walked on again, resuming his usual reserve,No, Gabriel. he resumed, with a carelessness whichwas like the smile on the countenance of a skull: itwas made more of by other people than ever it was byus. I do feel a little regret occasionally, but no womanever had power over me for any length of time. Well,good morning; I can trust you not to mention to otherswhat has passed between us two here.
CHAPTER XXXIX