XIV. LATER IN THE EVENING OF THE SAME DAY
When they reached home the sun was going down. It had already beennoised abroad that miller Loveday had received a letter, and, his carthaving been heard coming up the lane, the population of Overcombe drewdown towards the mill as soon as he had gone indoors--a sudden flash ofbrightness from the window showing that he had struck such an early lightas nothing but the immediate deciphering of literature could require.Letters were matters of public moment, and everybody in the parish had aninterest in the reading of those rare documents; so that when the millerhad placed the candle, slanted himself, and called in Mrs. Garland tohave her opinion on the meaning of any hieroglyphics that he mightencounter in his course, he found that he was to be additionally assistedby the opinions of the other neighbours, whose persons appeared in thedoorway, partly covering each other like a hand of cards, yet eachshowing a large enough piece of himself for identification. To pass thetime while they were arranging themselves, the miller adopted his usualway of filling up casual intervals, that of snuffing the candle.
'We heard you had got a letter, Maister Loveday,' they said.
'Yes; "Southampton, the twelfth of August, dear father,"' said Loveday;and they were as silent as relations at the reading of a will. Anne, forwhom the letter had a singular fascination, came in with her mother andsat down.
Bob stated in his own way that having, since landing, taken intoconsideration his father's wish that he should renounce a seafaring lifeand become a partner in the mill, he had decided to agree to theproposal; and with that object in view he would return to Overcombe inthree days from the time of writing.
He then said incidentally that since his voyage he had been in lodgingsat Southampton, and during that time had become acquainted with a lovelyand virtuous young maiden, in whom he found the exact qualities necessaryto his happiness. Having known this lady for the full space of afortnight he had had ample opportunities of studying her character, and,being struck with the recollection that, if there was one thing more thananother necessary in a mill which had no mistress, it was somebody whocould play that part with grace and dignity, he had asked Miss MatildaJohnson to be his wife. In her kindness she, though sacrificing farbetter prospects, had agreed; and he could not but regard it as a happychance that he should have found at the nick of time such a woman toadorn his home, whose innocence was as stunning as her beauty. Withoutmuch ado, therefore, he and she had arranged to be married at once, andat Overcombe, that his father might not be deprived of the pleasures ofthe wedding feast. She had kindly consented to follow him by land in thecourse of a few days, and to live in the house as their guest for theweek or so previous to the ceremony.
''Tis a proper good letter,' said Mrs. Comfort from the background. 'Inever heerd true love better put out of hand in my life; and they seem'nation fond of one another.'
'He haven't knowed her such a very long time,' said Job Mitchelldubiously.
'That's nothing,' said Esther Beach. 'Nater will find her way, veryrapid when the time's come for't. Well, 'tis good news for ye, miller.'
'Yes, sure, I hope 'tis,' said Loveday, without, however, showing anygreat hurry to burst into the frantic form of fatherly joy which theevent should naturally have produced, seeming more disposed to let offhis feelings by examining thoroughly into the fibres of the letter-paper.
'I was five years a-courting my wife,' he presently remarked. 'But folkswere slower about everything in them days. Well, since she's coming wemust make her welcome. Did any of ye catch by my reading which day it ishe means? What with making out the penmanship, my mind was drawn offfrom the sense here and there.'
'He says in three days,' said Mrs. Garland. 'The date of the letter willfix it.'
On examination it was found that the day appointed was the one nearlyexpired; at which the miller jumped up and said, 'Then he'll be herebefore bedtime. I didn't gather till now that he was coming aforeSaturday. Why, he may drop in this very minute!'
He had scarcely spoken when footsteps were heard coming along the front,and they presently halted at the door. Loveday pushed through theneighbours and rushed out; and, seeing in the passage a form whichobscured the declining light, the miller seized hold of him, saying, 'Omy dear Bob; then you are come!'
'Scrounch it all, miller, don't quite pull my poor shoulder out of joint!Whatever is the matter?' said the new-comer, trying to release himselffrom Loveday's grasp of affection. It was Uncle Benjy.
'Thought 'twas my son!' faltered the miller, sinking back upon the toesof the neighbours who had closely followed him into the entry. 'Well,come in, Mr. Derriman, and make yerself at home. Why, you haven't beenhere for years! Whatever has made you come now, sir, of all times in theworld?'
'Is he in there with ye?' whispered the farmer with misgiving.
'Who?'
'My nephew, after that maid that he's so mighty smit with?'
'O no; he never calls here.'
Farmer Derriman breathed a breath of relief. 'Well, I've called to tellye,' he said, 'that there's more news of the French. We shall have 'emhere this month as sure as a gun. The gunboats be all ready--near twothousand of 'em--and the whole army is at Boulogne. And, miller, I knowye to be an honest man.'
Loveday did not say nay.
'Neighbour Loveday, I know ye to be an honest man,' repeated the oldsquireen. 'Can I speak to ye alone?'
As the house was full, Loveday took him into the garden, all the whileupon tenter-hooks, not lest Buonaparte should appear in their midst, butlest Bob should come whilst he was not there to receive him. When theyhad got into a corner Uncle Benjy said, 'Miller, what with the French,and what with my nephew Festus, I assure ye my life is nothing butwherrit from morning to night. Miller Loveday, you are an honest man.'
Loveday nodded.
'Well, I've come to ask a favour--to ask if you will take charge of myfew poor title-deeds and documents and suchlike, while I am away fromhome next week, lest anything should befall me, and they should be stoleaway by Boney or Festus, and I should have nothing left in the wideworld? I can trust neither banks nor lawyers in these terrible times;and I am come to you.'
Loveday after some hesitation agreed to take care of anything thatDerriman should bring, whereupon the farmer said he would call with theparchments and papers alluded to in the course of a week. Derriman thenwent away by the garden gate, mounted his pony, which had been tetheredoutside, and rode on till his form was lost in the shades.
The miller rejoined his friends, and found that in the meantime John hadarrived. John informed the company that after parting from his fatherand Anne he had rambled to the harbour, and discovered the Pewit by thequay. On inquiry he had learnt that she came in at eleven o'clock, andthat Bob had gone ashore.
'We'll go and meet him,' said the miller. ''Tis still light out ofdoors.'
So, as the dew rose from the meads and formed fleeces in the hollows,Loveday and his friends and neighbours strolled out, and loitered by thestiles which hampered the footpath from Overcombe to the high road atintervals of a hundred yards. John Loveday, being obliged to return tocamp, was unable to accompany them, but Widow Garland thought proper tofall in with the procession. When she had put on her bonnet she calledto her daughter. Anne said from upstairs that she was coming in aminute; and her mother walked on without her.
What was Anne doing? Having hastily unlocked a receptacle for emotionalobjects of small size, she took thence the little folded paper with whichwe have already become acquainted, and, striking a light from her privatetinder-box, she held the paper, and curl of hair it contained, in thecandle till they were burnt. Then she put on her hat and followed hermother and the rest of them across the moist grey fields, cheerfullysinging in an undertone as she went, to assure herself of herindifference to circumstances.