Page 44 of Far from the Madding Crowd

UNDER A TREE -- REACTION

BATHSHEBA went along the dark road, neither know-ing nor caring about the direction or issue of her flight.The first time that she definitely noticed her positionwas when she reached a gate leading into a thicket over-hung by some large oak and beech trees. On lookinginto the place, it occurred to her that she had seen itby daylight on some previous occasion, and that whatappeared like an impassable thicket was in reality abrake of fern now withering fast. She could think ofnothing better to do with her palpitating self than to goin here and hide; and entering, she lighted on a spotsheltered from the damp fog by a reclining trunk, whereshe sank down upon a tangled couch of fronds andstems. She mechanically pulled some armfuls roundher to keep off the breezes, and closed her eyes.Whether she slept or not that night Bathsheba wasnot clearly aware. But it was with a freshened exist-ence and a cooler brain that, a long time afterwards, shebecame conscious of some interesting proceedings whichwere going on in the trees above her head and around.A coarse-throated chatter was the first sound.It was a sparrow just waking.Next: ”Chee-weeze-weeze-weeze!” from anotherretreat.It was a finch.Third: ”Tink-tink-tink-tink-a-chink!” from the hedge,It was a robin.”Chuck-chuck-chuck!” overhead.A squirrel.Then, from the road, ”With my ra-ta-ta, and myrum-tum-tum!”It was a ploughboy. Presently he came opposite,and she believed from his voice that he was one ofthe boys on her own farm. He was followed by ashambling tramp of heavy feet, and looking throughthe ferns Bathsheba could just discern in the wan lightof daybreak a team of her own horses. They stoppedto drink at a pond on the other side of the way'. Shewatched them flouncing into the pool, drinking, tossingup their heads, drinking again, the water dribblingfrom their lips in silver threads. There was anotherflounce, and they came out of the pond, and turnedback again towards the farm.She looked further around. Day was just dawning,and beside its cool air and colours her heated actionsand resolves of the night stood out in lurid contrast.She perceived that in her lap, and clinging to herhair, were red and yellow leaves which had comedown from the tree and settled silently upon herduring her partial sleep. Bathsheba shook her dress toget rid of them, when multitudes of the same family lyinground about her rose and fluttered away in the breezethus created, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.”There was an opening towards the east, and theglow from the as yet unrisen sun attracted her eyesthither. From her feet, and between the beautifulyellowing ferns with their feathery arms, the groundsloped downwards to a hollow, in which was a speciesof swamp, dotted with fungi. A morning mist hungover it now -- a fulsome yet magnificent silvery veil,full of light from the sun, yet semi-opaque -- the hedgebehind it being in some measure hidden by its hazyluminousness. Up the sides of this depression grewsheaves of the common rush, and here and there apeculiar species of flag, the blades of which glistenedin the emerging sun, like scythes. But the generalaspect of the swamp was malignant. From its moistand poisonous coat seemed to be exhaled the essencesof evil things in the earth, and in the waters underthe earth. The fungi grew in all manner of positionsfrom rotting leaves and tree stumps, some exhibitingto her listless gaze their clammy tops, others theiroozing gills. Some were marked with great splotches,red as arterial blood, others were saffron yellow, andothers tall and attenuated, with stems like macaroni.Some were leathery and of richest browns. Thehollow seemed a nursery of pestilences small andgreat, in the immediate neighbourhood of comfortand health, and Bathsheba arose with a tremor at thethought of having passed the night on the brink ofso dismal a place.”There were now other footsteps to be heard alongthe road. Bathsheba's nerves were still unstrung:she crouched down out of sight again, and the pedes-trian came into view. He was a schoolboy, with abag slung over his shoulder containing his dinner,and a hook in his hand. He paused by the gate,and, without looking up, continued murmuring wordsin tones quite loud enough to reach her ears.”O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, O Lord”: --that I know out o' book. ”Give us, give us, give us,give us, give us”: -- that I know. ”Grace that, grace that,grace that, grace that”: -- that I know.” Other wordsfollowed to the same effect. The boy was of thedunce class apparently; the book was a psalter, andthis was his way of learning the collect. In the worstattacks of trouble there appears to be always a super-ficial film of consciousness which is left disengagedand open to the notice of trifles, and Bathsheba wasfaintly amused at the boy's method, till he too passed on.By this time stupor had given place to anxiety, andanxiety began to make room for hunger and thirst.A form now appeared upon the rise on the other sideof the swamp, half-hidden by the mist, and cametowards Bathsheba. The woman -- for it was a woman -- approached with her face askance, as if lookingearnestly on all sides of her. When she got a littlefurther round to the left, and drew nearer, Bathshebacould see the newcomer's profile against the sunnysky', and knew the wavy sweep from forehead to chin,with neither angle nor decisive line anywhere aboutit, to be the familiar contour of Liddy Smallbury.Bathsheba's heart bounded with gratitude in thethought that she was not altogether deserted, and shejumped up. ”O, Liddy!” she said, or attempted to say;but the words had only been framed by her lips; therecame no sound. She had lost her voice by exposureto the clogged atmosphere all these hours of night.”O, ma'am! I am so glad I have found you.” saidthe girl, as soon as she saw Bathsheba.”You can't come across.” Bathsheba said in a whisper,which she vainly endeavoured to make loud enough toreach Liddy's ears. Liddy, not knowing this, steppeddown upon the swamp, saying, as she did so, ”It willbear me up, I think.”Bathsheba never forgot that transient little pictureof Liddy crossing the swamp to her there in themorning light. Iridescent bubbles of dank subter-ranean breath rose from the sweating sod beside thewaiting maid's feet as she trod, hissing as they burstand expanded away to join the vapoury firmament above.Liddy did not sink, as Bathsheba had anticipated.She landed safely on the other side, and looked upat the beautiful though pale and weary face of heryoung mistress.”Poor thing!” said Liddy, with tears in her eyes,Do hearten yourself up a little, ma'am. Howeverdid -- -- ””I can't speak above a whisper -- my voice is gonefor the present.” said Bathsheba, hurriedly.” I supposethe damp air from that hollow has taken it awayLiddy, don't question me, mind. Who sent you --anybody?””Nobody. I thought, when I found you were notat home, that something cruel had happened. I fancyI heard his voice late last night; and so, knowingsomething was wrong -- -- ””Is he at home?””No; he left just before I came out.””Is Fanny taken away?””Not yet. She will soon be -- at nine o'clock.””we won't go home at present, then. Suppose wewalk about in this wood?”Liddy, without exactly understanding everything, oranything, in this episode, assented, and they walkedtogether further among the trees.”But you had better come in, ma'am, and havesomething to eat. You will die of a chill!””I shall not come indoors yet -- perhaps never.””Shall I get you something to eat, and somethingelse to put over your head besides that little shawl?””If you will, Liddy.”Liddy vanished, and at the end of twenty minutesreturned with a cloak, hat, some slices of bread andbutter, a tea-cup, and some hot tea in a little china jug”Is Fanny gone?” said Bathsheba.”No.” said her companion, pouring out the tea.Bathsheba wrapped herself up and ate and dranksparingly. Her voice was then a little clearer, andtrifling colour returned to her face. ”Now we'll walkabout again.” she said.They wandered about the wood for nearly twohours, Bathsheba replying in monosyllables to Liddy'sprattle, for her mind ran on one subject, and one only.She interrupted with --”l wonder if Fanny is gone by this time?””I will go and see.”She came back with the information that themen were just taking away the corpse; that Bathshebahad been inquired for; that she had replied to theeffect that her mistress was unwell and could not beseen.”Then they think I am in my bedroom?””Yes.” Liddy then ventured to add:” You saidwhen I first found you that you might never go homeagain -- you didn't mean it, ma'am?””No; I've altered my mind. It is only women withno pride in them who run away from their husbands.There is one position worse than that of being founddead in your husband's house from his ill usage, andthat is, to be found alive through having gone away toThe house of somebody else. I've thought of it all thismorning, and I've chosen my course. A runaway wifeis an encumbrance to everybody, a burden to herself anda byword -- all of which make up a heap of miserygreater than any that comes by staying at home --though this may include the trifling items of insult,beating, and starvation. Liddy, if ever you marry --God forbid that you ever should! -- you'll find yourselfin a fearful situation but mind this, don't you flinch.Stand your ground, and be cut to pieces. That'swhat I'm going to do.””O, mistress, don't talk so!” said Liddy,-taking herhand; ”but I knew you had too much sense to bideaway. May I ask what dreadful thing it is that hashappened between you and him?””You may ask; but I may not tell.”In about ten minutes they returned to the house bya circuitous route, entering at the rear. Bathshebaglided up the back stairs to a disused attic, and hercompanion followed.”Liddy.” she said, with a lighter heart, for youth andhope had begun to reassert themselves;” you are to bemy confidante for the present -- somebody must be -- andI choose you. Well, I shall take up my abode here fora while. Will you get a fire lighted, put down a pieceof carpet, and help me to make the place comfortable.Afterwards, I want you and Maryann to bring up thatlittle stump bedstead in the small room, and the bebelonging to it, and a table, and some other things.What shall I do to pass the heavy time away?””Hemming handkerchiefs is a very good thing.” saidLiddy.”O no, no! I hate needlework-i always did.””knitting?””And that, too.””You might finish your sampler. Only the carna-tions and peacocks want filling in; and then it couldbe framed and glazed, and hung beside your aunt”ma'am.””Samplers are out of date -- horribly countrified. NoLiddy, I'll read. Bring up some books -- not new ones.I haven't heart to read anything new.””Some of your uncle's old ones, ma'am?””Yes. Some of those we stowed away in boxes.” Afaint gleam of humour passed over her face as she said:”Bring Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy, andthe Mourning Bride, and let me see -- Night Thoughts,and the Vanity of Human Wishes.””And that story of the black man, who murdered hiswife Desdemona? It is a nice dismal one that wouldsuit you excellent just now.””Now, Liddy, you've been looking into my bookwithout telling me; and I said you were not to! Howdo you know it would suit me? It wouldn't suit me aall.””But if the others do -- -- ””No, they don't; and I won't read dismal books.Why should I read dismal books, indeed? Bring meLove in a Village, and Maid of the Mill, and DoctorSyntax, and some volumes of the Spectator.”All that day Bathsheba and Liddy lived in the atticin a state of barricade; a precaution which proved to beneedless as against Troy, for he did not appear in theneighbourhood or trouble them at all. Bathsheba satat the window till sunset, sometimes attempting to read,at other times watching every movement outside withoutmuch purpose, and listening without much interest toevery sound.The sun went down almost blood-red that night, anda livid cloud received its rays in the east. Up againstthis dark background the west front of the churchtower -- the only part of the edifice visible from thefarm-house windows -- rose distinct and lustrous, thevane upon the summit bristling with rays. Hereabouts,at six o'clock, the young men of the village gathered,as was their custom, for a game of Prisoners' base. Thespot had been consecrated to this ancient diversion fromtime immemorial, the old stocks conveniently forminga base facing the boundary of the churchyard, in frontof which the ground was trodden hard and bare as apavement by the players. She could see the brownand black heads of the young lads darting about rightand left, their white shirt-sleeves gleaming in the sun;whilst occasionally a shout and a peal of hearty laughtervaried the stillness of the evening air. They continuedplaying for a quarter of an hour or so, when the gameconcluded abruptly, and the players leapt over the walland vanished round to the other side behind a yew-tree,which was also half behind a beech, now spreading inone mass of golden foliage, on which the branchestraced black lines.”Why did the base-players finish their game sosuddenly?” Bathsheba inquired, the next time thatLiddy entered the room.”I think 'twas because two men came just then fromCasterbridge and began putting up grand carvedtombstone.” said Liddy. ”The lads went to see whoseit was.””Do you know?” Bathsheba asked.”I don't.” said Liddy.



CHAPTER XLV