XV. 'CAPTAIN' BOB LOVEDAY OF THE MERCHANT SERVICE
While Loveday and his neighbours were thus rambling forth, full ofexpectancy, some of them, including Anne in the rear, heard the cracklingof light wheels along the curved lane to which the path was the chord. Atonce Anne thought, 'Perhaps that's he, and we are missing him.' Butrecent events were not of a kind to induce her to say anything; and theothers of the company did not reflect on the sound.
Had they gone across to the hedge which hid the lane, and looked throughit, they would have seen a light cart driven by a boy, beside whom wasseated a seafaring man, apparently of good standing in the merchantservice, with his feet outside on the shaft. The vehicle went over themain bridge, turned in upon the other bridge at the tail of the mill, andhalted by the door. The sailor alighted, showing himself to be a well-shaped, active, and fine young man, with a bright eye, an anonymous nose,and of such a rich complexion by exposure to ripening suns that he mighthave been some connexion of the foreigner who calls his likeness thePortrait of a Gentleman in galleries of the Old Masters. Yet in spite ofthis, and though Bob Loveday had been all over the world from Cape Hornto Pekin, and from India's coral strand to the White Sea, the mostconspicuous of all the marks that he had brought back with him was anincreased resemblance to his mother, who had lain all the time beneathOvercombe church wall.
Captain Loveday tried the house door; finding this locked he went to themill door: this was locked also, the mill being stopped for the night.
'They are not at home,' he said to the boy. 'But never mind that. Justhelp to unload the things and then I'll pay you, and you can drive offhome.'
The cart was unloaded, and the boy was dismissed, thanking the sailorprofusely for the payment rendered. Then Bob Loveday, finding that hehad still some leisure on his hands, looked musingly east, west, north,south, and nadir; after which he bestirred himself by carrying his goods,article by article, round to the back door, out of the way of casualpassers. This done, he walked round the mill in a more regardfulattitude, and surveyed its familiar features one by one--the panes of thegrinding-room, now as heretofore clouded with flour as with stale hoar-frost; the meal lodged in the corners of the window-sills, forming a soilin which lichens grew without ever getting any bigger, as they had donesince his smallest infancy; the mosses on the plinth towards the river,reaching as high as the capillary power of the walls would fetch upmoisture for their nourishment, and the penned mill-pond, now as ever onthe point of overflowing into the garden. Everything was the same.
When he had had enough of this it occurred to Loveday that he might getinto the house in spite of the locked doors; and by entering the garden,placing a pole from the fork of an apple-tree to the window-sill of abedroom on that side, and climbing across like a Barbary ape, he enteredthe window and stepped down inside. There was something anomalous inbeing close to the familiar furniture without having first seen hisfather, and its silent, impassive shine was not cheering; it was as ifhis relations were all dead, and only their tables and chests of drawersleft to greet him. He went downstairs and seated himself in the darkparlour. Finding this place, too, rather solitary, and the tick of theinvisible clock preternaturally loud, he unearthed the tinder-box,obtained a light, and set about making the house comfortable for hisfather's return, divining that the miller had gone out to meet him by thewrong road.
Robert's interest in this work increased as he proceeded, and he bustledround and round the kitchen as lightly as a girl. David, the indoorfactotum, having lost himself among the quart pots of Budmouth, there hadbeen nobody left here to prepare supper, and Bob had it all to himself.In a short time a fire blazed up the chimney, a tablecloth was found, theplates were clapped down, and a search made for what provisions the houseafforded, which, in addition to various meats, included some fresh eggsof the elongated shape that produces cockerels when hatched, and had beenset aside on that account for putting under the next broody hen.
A more reckless cracking of eggs than that which now went on had neverbeen known in Overcombe since the last large christening; and as Lovedaygashed one on the side, another at the end, another longways, and anotherdiagonally, he acquired adroitness by practice, and at last made everyson of a hen of them fall into two hemispheres as neatly as if it openedby a hinge. From eggs he proceeded to ham, and from ham to kidneys, theresult being a brilliant fry.
Not to be tempted to fall to before his father came back, the returnednavigator emptied the whole into a dish, laid a plate over the top, hiscoat over the plate, and his hat over his coat. Thus completely stoppingin the appetizing smell, he sat down to await events. He was relievedfrom the tediousness of doing this by hearing voices outside; and in aminute his father entered.
'Glad to welcome ye home, father,' said Bob. 'And supper is just ready.'
'Lard, lard--why, Captain Bob's here!' said Mrs. Garland.
'And we've been out waiting to meet thee!' said the miller, as he enteredthe room, followed by representatives of the houses of Cripplestraw,Comfort, Mitchell, Beach, and Snooks, together with some small beginningsof Fencible Tremlett's posterity. In the rear came David, and quite inthe vanishing-point of the composition, Anne the fair.
'I drove over; and so was forced to come by the road,' said Bob.
'And we went across the fields, thinking you'd walk,' said his father.
'I should have been here this morning; but not so much as a wheelbarrowcould I get for my traps; everything was gone to the review. So I wenttoo, thinking I might meet you there. I was then obliged to return tothe harbour for the luggage.'
Then there was a welcoming of Captain Bob by pulling out his arms likedrawers and shutting them again, smacking him on the back as if he werechoking, holding him at arm's length as if he were of too large type toread close. All which persecution Bob bore with a wide, genial smilethat was shaken into fragments and scattered promiscuously among thespectators.
'Get a chair for 'n!' said the miller to David, whom they had met in thefields and found to have got nothing worse by his absence than a slightslant in his walk.
'Never mind--I am not tired--I have been here ever so long,' said Bob.'And I--' But the chair having been placed behind him, and a smart touchin the hollow of a person's knee by the edge of that piece of furniturehaving a tendency to make the person sit without further argument, Bobsank down dumb, and the others drew up other chairs at a convenientnearness for easy analytic vision and the subtler forms of goodfellowship. The miller went about saying, 'David, the nine best glassesfrom the corner cupboard!'--'David, the corkscrew!'--'David, whisk thetail of thy smock-frock round the inside of these quart pots afore youdraw drink in 'em--they be an inch thick in dust!'--'David, lower thatchimney-crook a couple of notches that the flame may touch the bottom ofthe kettle, and light three more of the largest candles!'--'If you can'tget the cork out of the jar, David, bore a hole in the tub of Hollandsthat's buried under the scroff in the fuel-house; d'ye hear?--Dan Brownleft en there yesterday as a return for the little porker I gied en.'
When they had all had a thimbleful round, and the superfluous neighbourshad reluctantly departed, one by one, the inmates gave their minds to thesupper, which David had begun to serve up.
'What be you rolling back the tablecloth for, David?' said the miller.
'Maister Bob have put down one of the under sheets by mistake, and Ithought you might not like it, sir, as there's ladies present!'
'Faith, 'twas the first thing that came to hand,' said Robert. 'Itseemed a tablecloth to me.'
'Never mind--don't pull off the things now he's laid 'em down--let itbide,' said the miller. 'But where's Widow Garland and Maidy Anne?'
'They were here but a minute ago,' said David. 'Depend upon it they haveslinked off 'cause they be shy.'
The miller at once went round to ask them to come back and sup with him;and while he was gone David told Bob in confidence what an excellentplace he had for an old man.
'Yes, Cap'n Bob, as I sup
pose I must call ye; I've worked for yer fatherthese eight-and-thirty years, and we have always got on very welltogether. Trusts me with all the keys, lends me his sleeve-waistcoat,and leaves the house entirely to me. Widow Garland next door, too, isjust the same with me, and treats me as if I was her own child.'
'She must have married young to make you that, David.'
'Yes, yes--I'm years older than she. 'Tis only my common way ofspeaking.'
Mrs. Garland would not come in to supper, and the meal proceeded withouther, Bob recommending to his father the dish he had cooked, in the mannerof a householder to a stranger just come. The miller was anxious to knowmore about his son's plans for the future, but would not for the presentinterrupt his eating, looking up from his own plate to appreciate Bob'stravelled way of putting English victuals out of sight, as he would havelooked at a mill on improved principles.
David had only just got the table clear, and set the plates in a rowunder the bakehouse table for the cats to lick, when the door was hastilyopened, and Mrs. Garland came in, looking concerned.
'I have been waiting to hear the plates removed to tell you howfrightened we are at something we hear at the back-door. It seems likerobbers muttering; but when I look out there's nobody there!'
'This must be seen to,' said the miller, rising promptly. 'David, lightthe middle-sized lantern. I'll go and search the garden.'
'And I'll go too,' said his son, taking up a cudgel. 'Lucky I've comehome just in time!'
They went out stealthily, followed by the widow and Anne, who had beenafraid to stay alone in the house under the circumstances. No soonerwere they beyond the door when, sure enough, there was the mutteringalmost close at hand, and low upon the ground, as from persons lying downin hiding.
'Bless my heart!' said Bob, striking his head as though it were someenemy's: 'why, 'tis my luggage. I'd quite forgot it!'
'What!' asked his father.
'My luggage. Really, if it hadn't been for Mrs. Garland it would havestayed there all night, and they, poor things! would have been starved.I've got all sorts of articles for ye. You go inside, and I'll bring 'emin. 'Tis parrots that you hear a muttering, Mrs. Garland. You needn'tbe afraid any more.'
'Parrots?' said the miller. 'Well, I'm glad 'tis no worse. But howcouldst forget so, Bob?'
The packages were taken in by David and Bob, and the first unfastenedwere three, wrapped in cloths, which being stripped off revealed threecages, with a gorgeous parrot in each.
'This one is for you, father, to hang up outside the door, and amuse us,'said Bob. 'He'll talk very well, but he's sleepy to-night. This otherone I brought along for any neighbour that would like to have him. Hiscolours are not so bright; but 'tis a good bird. If you would like tohave him you are welcome to him,' he said, turning to Anne, who had beentempted forward by the birds. 'You have hardly spoken yet, Miss Anne,but I recollect you very well. How much taller you have got, to besure!'
Anne said she was much obliged, but did not know what she could do withsuch a present. Mrs. Garland accepted it for her, and the sailor wenton--'Now this other bird I hardly know what to do with; but I dare sayhe'll come in for something or other.'
'He is by far the prettiest,' said the widow. 'I would rather have itthan the other, if you don't mind.'
'Yes,' said Bob, with embarrassment. 'But the fact is, that bird willhardly do for ye, ma'am. He's a hard swearer, to tell the truth; and Iam afraid he's too old to be broken of it.'
'How dreadful!' said Mrs. Garland.
'We could keep him in the mill,' suggested the miller. 'It won't matterabout the grinder hearing him, for he can't learn to cuss worse than hedo already!'
'The grinder shall have him, then,' said Bob. 'The one I have given you,ma'am, has no harm in him at all. You might take him to church o'Sundays as far as that goes.'
The sailor now untied a small wooden box about a foot square, perforatedwith holes. 'Here are two marmosets,' he continued. 'You can't see themto-night; but they are beauties--the tufted sort.'
'What's a marmoset?' said the miller.
'O, a little kind of monkey. They bite strangers rather hard, but you'llsoon get used to 'em.'
'They are wrapped up in something, I declare,' said Mrs. Garland, peepingin through a chink.
'Yes, that's my flannel shirt,' said Bob apologetically. 'They sufferterribly from cold in this climate, poor things! and I had nothing betterto give them. Well, now, in this next box I've got things of differentsorts.'
The latter was a regular seaman's chest, and out of it he produced shellsof many sizes and colours, carved ivories, queer little caskets, gorgeousfeathers, and several silk handkerchiefs, which articles were spread outupon all the available tables and chairs till the house began to looklike a bazaar.
'What a lovely shawl!' exclaimed Widow Garland, in her interestforestalling the regular exhibition by looking into the box at what wascoming.
'O yes,' said the mate, pulling out a couple of the most bewitchingshawls that eyes ever saw. 'One of these I am going to give to thatyoung lady I am shortly to be married to, you know, Mrs. Garland. Hasfather told you about it? Matilda Johnson, of Southampton, that's hername.'
'Yes, we know all about it,' said the widow.
'Well, I shall give one of these shawls to her--because, of course, Iought to.'
'Of course,' said she.
'But the other one I've got no use for at all; and,' he continued,looking round, 'will you have it, Miss Anne? You refused the parrot, andyou ought not to refuse this.'
'Thank you,' said Anne calmly, but much distressed; 'but really I don'twant it, and couldn't take it.'
'But do have it!' said Bob in hurt tones, Mrs. Garland being all thewhile on tenter-hooks lest Anne should persist in her absurd refusal.
'Why, there's another reason why you ought to!' said he, his facelighting up with recollections. 'It never came into my head till thismoment that I used to be your beau in a humble sort of way. Faith, so Idid, and we used to meet at places sometimes, didn't we--that is, whenyou were not too proud; and once I gave you, or somebody else, a bit ofmy hair in fun.'
'It was somebody else,' said Anne quickly.
'Ah, perhaps it was,' said Bob innocently. 'But it was you I used tomeet, or try to, I am sure. Well, I've never thought of that boyish timefor years till this minute! I am sure you ought to accept some one gift,dear, out of compliment to those old times!'
Anne drew back and shook her head, for she would not trust her voice.
'Well, Mrs. Garland, then you shall have it,' said Bob, tossing the shawlto that ready receiver. 'If you don't, upon my life I will throw it outto the first beggar I see. Now, here's a parcel of cap ribbons of thesplendidest sort I could get. Have these--do, Anne!'
'Yes, do,' said Mrs. Garland.
'I promised them to Matilda,' continued Bob; 'but I am sure she won'twant 'em, as she has got some of her own: and I would as soon see themupon your head, my dear, as upon hers.'
'I think you had better keep them for your bride if you have promisedthem to her,' said Mrs. Garland mildly.
'It wasn't exactly a promise. I just said, "Til, there's some capribbons in my box, if you would like to have them." But she's got enoughthings already for any bride in creation. Anne, now you shall have'em--upon my soul you shall--or I'll fling them down the mill-tail!'
Anne had meant to be perfectly firm in refusing everything, for reasonsobvious even to that poor waif, the meanest capacity; but when it came tothis point she was absolutely compelled to give in, and reluctantlyreceived the cap ribbons in her arms, blushing fitfully, and with her liptrembling in a motion which she tried to exhibit as a smile.
'What would Tilly say if she knew!' said the miller slily.
'Yes, indeed--and it is wrong of him!' Anne instantly cried, tearsrunning down her face as she threw the parcel of ribbons on the floor.'You'd better bestow your gifts where you bestow your l--l--love, Mr.Loveday--that's what I say!' And An
ne turned her back and went away.
'I'll take them for her,' said Mrs. Garland, quickly picking up theparcel.
'Now that's a pity,' said Bob, looking regretfully after Anne. 'I didn'tremember that she was a quick-tempered sort of girl at all. Tell her,Mrs. Garland, that I ask her pardon. But of course I didn't know she wastoo proud to accept a little present--how should I? Upon my life if itwasn't for Matilda I'd--Well, that can't be, of course.'
'What's this?' said Mrs. Garland, touching with her foot a large packagethat had been laid down by Bob unseen.
'That's a bit of baccy for myself,' said Robert meekly.
The examination of presents at last ended, and the two families partedfor the night. When they were alone, Mrs. Garland said to Anne, 'What aclose girl you are! I am sure I never knew that Bob Loveday and you hadwalked together: you must have been mere children.'
'O yes--so we were,' said Anne, now quite recovered. 'It was when wefirst came here, about a year after father died. We did not walktogether in any regular way. You know I have never thought the Lovedayshigh enough for me. It was only just--nothing at all, and I had almostforgotten it.'
It is to be hoped that somebody's sins were forgiven her that nightbefore she went to bed.
When Bob and his father were left alone, the miller said, 'Well, Robert,about this young woman of thine--Matilda what's her name?'
'Yes, father--Matilda Johnson. I was just going to tell ye about her.'
The miller nodded, and sipped his mug.
'Well, she is an excellent body,' continued Bob; 'that can truly besaid--a real charmer, you know--a nice good comely young woman, a miracleof genteel breeding, you know, and all that. She can throw her hair intothe nicest curls, and she's got splendid gowns and headclothes. Inshort, you might call her a land mermaid. She'll make such a first-ratewife as there never was.'
'No doubt she will,' said the miller; 'for I have never known theewanting in sense in a jineral way.' He turned his cup round on its axistill the handle had travelled a complete circle. 'How long did you sayin your letter that you had known her?'
'A fortnight.'
'Not _very_ long.'
'It don't sound long, 'tis true; and 'twas really longer--'twas fifteendays and a quarter. But hang it, father, I could see in the twinkling ofan eye that the girl would do. I know a woman well enough when I seeher--I ought to, indeed, having been so much about the world. Now, forinstance, there's Widow Garland and her daughter. The girl is a nicelittle thing; but the old woman--O no!' Bob shook his head.
'What of her?' said his father, slightly shifting in his chair.
'Well, she's, she's--I mean, I should never have chose her, you know.She's of a nice disposition, and young for a widow with a grown-updaughter; but if all the men had been like me she would never have had ahusband. I like her in some respects; but she's a style of beauty Idon't care for.'
'O, if 'tis only looks you are thinking of,' said the miller, muchrelieved, 'there's nothing to be said, of course. Though there's many aduchess worse-looking, if it comes to argument, as you would find, myson,' he added, with a sense of having been mollified too soon.
The mate's thoughts were elsewhere by this time.
'As to my marrying Matilda, thinks I, here's one of the very genteelestsort, and I may as well do the job at once. So I chose her. She's adear girl; there's nobody like her, search where you will.'
'How many did you choose her out from?' inquired his father.
'Well, she was the only young woman I happened to know in Southampton,that's true. But what of that? It would have been all the same if I hadknown a hundred.'
'Her father is in business near the docks, I suppose?'
'Well, no. In short, I didn't see her father.'
'Her mother?'
'Her mother? No, I didn't. I think her mother is dead; but she has gota very rich aunt living at Melchester. I didn't see her aunt, becausethere wasn't time to go; but of course we shall know her when we aremarried.'
'Yes, yes, of course,' said the miller, trying to feel quite satisfied.'And she will soon be here?'
'Ay, she's coming soon,' said Bob. 'She has gone to this aunt's atMelchester to get her things packed, and suchlike, or she would have comewith me. I am going to meet the coach at the King's Arms, Casterbridge,on Sunday, at one o'clock. To show what a capital sort of wife she'llbe, I may tell you that she wanted to come by the Mercury, because 'tis alittle cheaper than the other. But I said, "For once in your life do itwell, and come by the Royal Mail, and I'll pay." I can have the pony andtrap to fetch her, I suppose, as 'tis too far for her to walk?'
'Of course you can, Bob, or anything else. And I'll do all I can to giveyou a good wedding feast.'