11--The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman
The reddleman had left Eustacia's presence with desponding views onThomasin's future happiness; but he was awakened to the fact that oneother channel remained untried by seeing, as he followed the way to hisvan, the form of Mrs. Yeobright slowly walking towards the Quiet Woman.He went across to her; and could almost perceive in her anxious facethat this journey of hers to Wildeve was undertaken with the same objectas his own to Eustacia.
She did not conceal the fact. Then, said the reddleman, you may aswell leave it alone, Mrs. Yeobright.
I half think so myself, she said. But nothing else remains to be donebesides pressing the question upon him.
I should like to say a word first, said Venn firmly. Mr. Wildeve isnot the only man who has asked Thomasin to marry him; and why should notanother have a chance? Mrs. Yeobright, I should be glad to marry yourniece and would have done it any time these last two years. There, nowit is out, and I have never told anybody before but herself.
Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarily glancedtowards his singular though shapely figure.
Looks are not everything, said the reddleman, noticing the glance.There's many a calling that don't bring in so much as mine, if it comesto money; and perhaps I am not so much worse off than Wildeve. There isnobody so poor as these professional fellows who have failed; and if youshouldn't like my redness--well, I am not red by birth, you know; I onlytook to this business for a freak; and I might turn my hand to somethingelse in good time.
I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I fearthere would be objections. More than that, she is devoted to this man.
True; or I shouldn't have done what I have this morning.
Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not see megoing to his house now. What was Thomasin's answer when you told her ofyour feelings?
She wrote that you would object to me; and other things.
She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindly--I merelystate it as a truth. You have been good to her, and we do not forgetit. But as she was unwilling on her own account to be your wife, thatsettles the point without my wishes being concerned.
Yes. But there is a difference between then and now, ma'am. She isdistressed now, and I have thought that if you were to talk to her aboutme, and think favourably of me yourself, there might be a chance ofwinning her round, and getting her quite independent of this Wildeve'sbackward and forward play, and his not knowing whether he'll have her orno.
Mrs. Yeobright shook her head. Thomasin thinks, and I think with her,that she ought to be Wildeve's wife, if she means to appear before theworld without a slur upon her name. If they marry soon, everybody willbelieve that an accident did really prevent the wedding. If not, it maycast a shade upon her character--at any rate make her ridiculous. Inshort, if it is anyhow possible they must marry now.
I thought that till half an hour ago. But, after all, why should hergoing off with him to Anglebury for a few hours do her any harm? Anybodywho knows how pure she is will feel any such thought to be quiteunjust. I have been trying this morning to help on this marriage withWildeve--yes, I, ma'am--in the belief that I ought to do it, because shewas so wrapped up in him. But I much question if I was right, after all.However, nothing came of it. And now I offer myself.
Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into the question.I fear I must go on, she said. I do not see that anything else can bedone.
And she went on. But though this conversation did not divert Thomasin'saunt from her purposed interview with Wildeve, it made a considerabledifference in her mode of conducting that interview. She thanked God forthe weapon which the reddleman had put into her hands.
Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her silentlyinto the parlour, and closed the door. Mrs. Yeobright began--
I have thought it my duty to call today. A new proposal has been madeto me, which has rather astonished me. It will affect Thomasin greatly;and I have decided that it should at least be mentioned to you.
Yes? What is it? he said civilly.
It is, of course, in reference to her future. You may not be aware thatanother man has shown himself anxious to marry Thomasin. Now, thoughI have not encouraged him yet, I cannot conscientiously refuse him achance any longer. I don't wish to be short with you; but I must be fairto him and to her.
Who is the man? said Wildeve with surprise.
One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. Heproposed to her two years ago. At that time she refused him.
Well?
He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay hisaddresses to her. She may not refuse him twice.
What is his name?
Mrs. Yeobright declined to say. He is a man Thomasin likes, she added,and one whose constancy she respects at least. It seems to me that whatshe refused then she would be glad to get now. She is much annoyed ather awkward position.
She never once told me of this old lover.
The gentlest women are not such fools as to show EVERY card.
Well, if she wants him I suppose she must have him.
It is easy enough to say that; but you don't see the difficulty. Hewants her much more than she wants him; and before I can encourageanything of the sort I must have a clear understanding from you thatyou will not interfere to injure an arrangement which I promote in thebelief that it is for the best. Suppose, when they are engaged, andeverything is smoothly arranged for their marriage, that you should stepbetween them and renew your suit? You might not win her back, but youmight cause much unhappiness.
Of course I should do no such thing, said Wildeve But they are notengaged yet. How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?
That's a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the wholethe probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in time. I flattermyself that I have some influence over her. She is pliable, and I can bestrong in my recommendations of him.
And in your disparagement of me at the same time.
Well, you may depend upon my not praising you, she said drily. Andif this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her position ispeculiar, and that she has been hardly used. I shall also be helped inmaking the match by her own desire to escape from the humiliation of herpresent state; and a woman's pride in these cases will lead her a verygreat way. A little managing may be required to bring her round; butI am equal to that, provided that you agree to the one thingindispensable; that is, to make a distinct declaration that she is tothink no more of you as a possible husband. That will pique her intoaccepting him.
I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright. It is so sudden.
And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenientthat you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of sayingdistinctly you will have nothing to do with us.
Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. I confess I was not prepared forthis, he said. Of course I'll give her up if you wish, if it isnecessary. But I thought I might be her husband.
We have heard that before.
Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don't let us disagree. Give me a fair time. Idon't want to stand in the way of any better chance she may have; onlyI wish you had let me know earlier. I will write to you or call in a dayor two. Will that suffice?
Yes, she replied, provided you promise not to communicate withThomasin without my knowledge.
I promise that, he said. And the interview then terminated, Mrs.Yeobright returning homeward as she had come.
By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, asoften happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when arranging it. Inthe first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same evening after dark toEustacia's house at Mistover.
At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shuttered fromthe chill and darkness without. Wildeve's clandestine plan with her wasto take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to the crevice at thetop of the window shutter, which was on the outside, so that it shouldfall with a gentle rustle, resembling that of a mouse, between shutterand glass. This precaution in attracting her attention was to avoidarousing the suspicions of her grandfather.
The soft words, I hear; wait for me, in Eustacia's voice from withintold him that she was alone.
He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure andidling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house by hisproud though condescending mistress. She showed no sign of coming out ina hurry. The time wore on, and he began to grow impatient. In the courseof twenty minutes she appeared from round the corner, and advanced as ifmerely taking an airing.
You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come about, hesaid with bitterness. Still, you are worth waiting for.
What has happened? said Eustacia. I did not know you were in trouble.I too am gloomy enough.
I am not in trouble, said he. It is merely that affairs have come toa head, and I must take a clear course.
What course is that? she asked with attentive interest.
And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other night? Why,take you from this place, and carry you away with me abroad.
I have not forgotten. But why have you come so unexpectedly to repeatthe question, when you only promised to come next Saturday? I thought Iwas to have plenty of time to consider.
Yes, but the situation is different now.
Explain to me.
I don't want to explain, for I may pain you.
But I must know the reason of this hurry.
It is simply my ardour, dear Eustacia. Everything is smooth now.
Then why are you so ruffled?
I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobright--but sheis nothing to us.
Ah, I knew she had something to do with it! Come, I don't likereserve.
No--she has nothing. She only says she wishes me to give up Thomasinbecause another man is anxious to marry her. The woman, now she nolonger needs me, actually shows off! Wildeve's vexation has escaped himin spite of himself.
Eustacia was silent a long while. You are in the awkward position of anofficial who is no longer wanted, she said in a changed tone.
It seems so. But I have not yet seen Thomasin.
And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actually nettledby this slight from an unexpected quarter.
Well?
And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is certainly anew position altogether. I am to be a stop-gap.
Please remember that I proposed the same thing the other day.
Eustacia again remained in a sort of stupefied silence. What curiousfeeling was this coming over her? Was it really possible that herinterest in Wildeve had been so entirely the result of antagonism thatthe glory and the dream departed from the man with the first sound thathe was no longer coveted by her rival? She was, then, secure of him atlast. Thomasin no longer required him. What a humiliating victory!He loved her best, she thought; and yet--dared she to murmur suchtreacherous criticism ever so softly?--what was the man worth whom awoman inferior to herself did not value? The sentiment which lurks moreor less in all animate nature--that of not desiring the undesired ofothers--was lively as a passion in the supersubtle, epicurean heart ofEustacia. Her social superiority over him, which hitherto had scarcelyever impressed her, became unpleasantly insistent, and for the firsttime she felt that she had stooped in loving him.
Well, darling, you agree? said Wildeve.
If it could be London, or even Budmouth, instead of America, shemurmured languidly. Well, I will think. It is too great a thing for meto decide offhand. I wish I hated the heath less--or loved you more.
You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly enough togo anywhere with me.
And you loved Thomasin.
Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay, he returned, with almost asneer. I don't hate her now.
Exactly. The only thing is that you can no longer get her.
Come--no taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't agree togo with me, and agree shortly, I shall go by myself.
Or try Thomasin again. Damon, how strange it seems that you could havemarried her or me indifferently, and only have come to me because Iam--cheapest! Yes, yes--it is true. There was a time when I should haveexclaimed against a man of that sort, and been quite wild; but it is allpast now.
Will you go, dearest? Come secretly with me to Bristol, marry me, andturn our backs upon this dog-hole of England for ever? Say Yes.
I want to get away from here at almost any cost, she said withweariness, but I don't like to go with you. Give me more time todecide.
I have already, said Wildeve. Well, I give you one more week.
A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have to considerso many things. Fancy Thomasin being anxious to get rid of you! I cannotforget it.
Never mind that. Say Monday week. I will be here precisely at thistime.
Let it be at Rainbarrow, said she. This is too near home; mygrandfather may be walking out.
Thank you, dear. On Monday week at this time I will be at the Barrow.Till then good-bye.
Good-bye. No, no, you must not touch me now. Shaking hands is enoughtill I have made up my mind.
Eustacia watched his shadowy form till it had disappeared. She placedher hand to her forehead and breathed heavily; and then her rich,romantic lips parted under that homely impulse--a yawn. She wasimmediately angry at having betrayed even to herself the possibleevanescence of her passion for him. She could not admit at once that shemight have overestimated Wildeve, for to perceive his mediocrity now wasto admit her own great folly heretofore. And the discovery that she wasthe owner of a disposition so purely that of the dog in the manger hadsomething in it which at first made her ashamed.
The fruit of Mrs. Yeobright's diplomacy was indeed remarkable,though not as yet of the kind she had anticipated. It had appreciablyinfluenced Wildeve, but it was influencing Eustacia far more. Her loverwas no longer to her an exciting man whom many women strove for, andherself could only retain by striving with them. He was a superfluity.
She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not exactlygrief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason in the latterdays of an ill-judged, transient love. To be conscious that the end ofthe dream is approaching, and yet has not absolutely come, is one ofthe most wearisome as well as the most curious stages along the coursebetween the beginning of a passion and its end.
Her grandfather had returned, and was busily engaged in pouring somegallons of newly arrived rum into the square bottles of his squarecellaret. Whenever these home supplies were exhausted he would go to theQuiet Woman, and, standing with his back to the fire, grog in hand, tellremarkable stories of how he had lived seven years under the waterlineof his ship, and other naval wonders, to the natives, who hoped tooearnestly for a treat of ale from the teller to exhibit any doubts ofhis truth.
He had been there this evening. I suppose you have heard the Egdonnews, Eustacia? he said, without looking up from the bottles. Themen have been talking about it at the Woman as if it were of nationalimportance.
I have heard none, she said.
Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week tospend Christmas with his mother. He is a fine fellow by this time, itseems. I suppose you remember him?
I never saw him in my life.
Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as apromising boy.
Where has he been living all these years?
In that rookery of pomp and vanity, Paris, I believe.
BOOK TWO -- THE ARRIVAL