The Trumpet-Major

  XVIII. THE NIGHT AFTER THE ARRIVAL

  John continued his sad and heavy pace till walking seemed too old andworn-out a way of showing sorrow so new, and he leant himself against thefork of an apple-tree like a log. There the trumpet-major remained for aconsiderable time, his face turned towards the house, whose ancient, many-chimneyed outline rose against the darkened sky, and just shut out fromhis view the camp above. But faint noises coming thence from horsesrestless at the pickets, and from visitors taking their leave, recalledits existence, and reminded him that, in consequence of Matilda'sarrival, he had obtained leave for the night--a fact which, owing to thestartling emotions that followed his entry, he had not yet mentioned tohis friends.

  While abstractedly considering how he could best use that privilege underthe new circumstances which had arisen, he heard Farmer Derriman drive upto the front door and hold a conversation with his father. The old manhad at last apparently brought the tin box of private papers that hewished the miller to take charge of during Derriman's absence; and itbeing a calm night, John could hear, though he little heeded, UncleBenjy's reiterated supplications to Loveday to keep it safe from fire andthieves. Then Uncle Benjy left, and John's father went upstairs todeposit the box in a place of security, the whole proceeding reachingJohn's preoccupied comprehension merely as voices during sleep.

  The next thing was the appearance of a light in the bedroom which hadbeen assigned to Matilda Johnson. This effectually aroused the trumpet-major, and with a stealthiness unusual in him he went indoors. No lightwas in the lower rooms, his father, Mrs. Garland, and Anne having goneout on the bridge to look at the new moon. John went upstairs on tip-toe, and along the uneven passage till he came to her door. It wasstanding ajar, a band of candlelight shining across the passage and upthe opposite wall. As soon as he entered the radiance he saw her. Shewas standing before the looking-glass, apparently lost in thought, herfingers being clasped behind her head in abstraction, and the lightfalling full upon her face.

  'I must speak to you,' said the trumpet-major.

  She started, turned and grew paler than before; and then, as if moved bya sudden impulse, she swung the door wide open, and, coming out, saidquite collectedly and with apparent pleasantness, 'O yes; you are myBob's brother! I didn't, for a moment, recognize you.'

  'But you do now?'

  'As Bob's brother.'

  'You have not seen me before?'

  'I have not,' she answered, with a face as impassible as Talleyrand's.

  'Good God!'

  'I have not!' she repeated.

  'Nor any of the --th Dragoons? Captain Jolly, for instance?'

  'No.'

  'You mistake. I'll remind you of particulars,' he said drily. And hedid remind her at some length.

  'Never!' she said desperately.

  But she had miscalculated her staying powers, and her adversary'scharacter. Five minutes after that she was in tears, and theconversation had resolved itself into words, which, on the soldier'spart, were of the nature of commands, tempered by pity, and were a mereseries of entreaties on hers.

  The whole scene did not last ten minutes. When it was over, the trumpet-major walked from the doorway where they had been standing, and brushedmoisture from his eyes. Reaching a dark lumber-room, he stood stillthere to calm himself, and then descended by a Flemish-ladder to thebakehouse, instead of by the front stairs. He found that the others,including Bob, had gathered in the parlour during his absence and lightedthe candles.

  Miss Johnson, having sent down some time before John re-entered the houseto say that she would prefer to keep her room that evening, was notexpected to join them, and on this account Bob showed less than hiscustomary liveliness. The miller wishing to keep up his son's spirits,expressed his regret that, it being Sunday night, they could have nosongs to make the evening cheerful; when Mrs. Garland proposed that theyshould sing psalms which, by choosing lively tunes and not thinking ofthe words, would be almost as good as ballads.

  This they did, the trumpet-major appearing to join in with the rest; butas a matter of fact no sound came from his moving lips. His mind was insuch a state that he derived no pleasure even from Anne Garland'spresence, though he held a corner of the same book with her, and wastreated in a winsome way which it was not her usual practice to indulgein. She saw that his mind was clouded, and, far from guessing the reasonwhy, was doing her best to clear it.

  At length the Garlands found that it was the hour for them to leave, andJohn Loveday at the same time wished his father and Bob good-night, andwent as far as Mrs. Garland's door with her.

  He had said not a word to show that he was free to remain out of camp,for the reason that there was painful work to be done, which it would bebest to do in secret and alone. He lingered near the house till itsreflected window-lights ceased to glimmer upon the mill-pond, and allwithin the dwelling was dark and still. Then he entered the garden andwaited there till the back door opened, and a woman's figure timorouslycame forward. John Loveday at once went up to her, and they began totalk in low yet dissentient tones.

  They had conversed about ten minutes, and were parting as if they hadcome to some painful arrangement, Miss Johnson sobbing bitterly, when ahead stealthily arose above the dense hedgerow, and in a moment a shoutburst from its owner.

  'Thieves! thieves!--my tin box!--thieves! thieves!'

  Matilda vanished into the house, and John Loveday hastened to the hedge.'For heaven's sake, hold your tongue, Mr. Derriman!' he exclaimed.

  'My tin box!' said Uncle Benjy. 'O, only the trumpet-major!'

  'Your box is safe enough, I assure you. It was only'--here the trumpet-major gave vent to an artificial laugh--'only a sly bit of courting, youknow.'

  'Ha, ha, I see!' said the relieved old squireen. 'Courting Miss Anne!Then you've ousted my nephew, trumpet-major! Well, so much the better.As for myself, the truth on't is that I haven't been able to go to bedeasy, for thinking that possibly your father might not take care of whatI put under his charge; and at last I thought I would just step over andsee if all was safe here before I turned in. And when I saw your twoshapes my poor nerves magnified ye to housebreakers, and Boneys, and Idon't know what all.'

  'You have alarmed the house,' said the trumpet-major, hearing theclicking of flint and steel in his father's bedroom, followed in a momentby the rise of a light in the window of the same apartment. 'You havegot me into difficulty,' he added gloomily, as his father opened thecasement.

  'I am sorry for that,' said Uncle Benjy. 'But step back; I'll put it allright again.'

  'What, for heaven's sake, is the matter?' said the miller, his tassellednightcap appearing in the opening.

  'Nothing, nothing!' said the farmer. 'I was uneasy about my few bondsand documents, and I walked this way, miller, before going to bed, as Istart from home to-morrow morning. When I came down by yourgarden-hedge, I thought I saw thieves, but it turned out to be--to be--'

  Here a lump of earth from the trumpet-major's hand struck Uncle Benjy inthe back as a reminder.

  'To be--the bough of a cherry-tree a-waving in the wind. Good-night.'

  'No thieves are like to try my house,' said Miller Loveday. 'Now don'tyou come alarming us like this again, farmer, or you shall keep your boxyourself, begging your pardon for saying so. Good-night t' ye!'

  'Miller, will ye just look, since I am here--just look and see if the boxis all right? there's a good man! I am old, you know, and my poorremains are not what my original self was. Look and see if it is whereyou put it, there's a good, kind man.'

  'Very well,' said the miller good-humouredly.

  'Neighbour Loveday! on second thoughts I will take my box home again,after all, if you don't mind. You won't deem it ill of me? I have nosuspicion, of course; but now I think on't there's rivalry between mynephew and your son; and if Festus should take it into his head to setyour house on fire in his enmity, 'twould be bad for my deeds anddocuments. No offence, miller, but I'll take the box
, if you don'tmind.'

  'Faith! I don't mind,' said Loveday. 'But your nephew had better thinktwice before he lets his enmity take that colour.' Receding from thewindow, he took the candle to a back part of the room and soon reappearedwith the tin box.

  'I won't trouble ye to dress,' said Derriman considerately; 'let en downby anything you have at hand.'

  The box was lowered by a cord, and the old man clasped it in his arms.'Thank ye!' he said with heartfelt gratitude. 'Good-night!'

  The miller replied and closed the window, and the light went out.

  'There, now I hope you are satisfied, sir?' said the trumpet-major.

  'Quite, quite!' said Derriman; and, leaning on his walking-stick, hepursued his lonely way.

  That night Anne lay awake in her bed, musing on the traits of the newfriend who had come to her neighbour's house. She would not be critical,it was ungenerous and wrong; but she could not help thinking of whatinterested her. And were there, she silently asked, in Miss Johnson'smind and person such rare qualities as placed that lady altogether beyondcomparison with herself? O yes, there must be; for had not Captain Bobsingled out Matilda from among all other women, herself included? Ofcourse, with his world-wide experience, he knew best.

  When the moon had set, and only the summer stars threw their light intothe great damp garden, she fancied that she heard voices in thatdirection. Perhaps they were the voices of Bob and Matilda taking alover's walk before retiring. If so, how sleepy they would be next day,and how absurd it was of Matilda to pretend she was tired! Ruminating inthis way, and saying to herself that she hoped they would be happy, Annefell asleep.