The Trumpet-Major

  XXII. THE TWO HOUSEHOLDS UNITED

  At this particular moment the object of Festus Derriman's fulmination wasassuredly not dangerous as a rival. Bob, after abstractedly watching thesoldiers from the front of the house till they were out of sight, hadgone within doors and seated himself in the mill-parlour, where hisfather found him, his elbows resting on the table and his forehead on hishands, his eyes being fixed upon a document that lay open before him.

  'What art perusing, Bob, with such a long face?'

  Bob sighed, and then Mrs. Loveday and Anne entered. ''Tis only a state-paper that I fondly thought I should have a use for,' he said gloomily.And, looking down as before, he cleared his voice, as if moved inwardlyto go on, and began to read in feeling tones from what proved to be hisnullified marriage licence:--

  '"Timothy Titus Philemon, by permission Bishop of Bristol: To our well-beloved Robert Loveday, of the parish of Overcombe, Bachelor; and MatildaJohnson, of the same parish, Spinster. Greeting."'

  Here Anne sighed, but contrived to keep down her sigh to a mere nothing.

  'Beautiful language, isn't it!' said Bob. 'I was never greeted like thatafore!'

  'Yes; I have often thought it very excellent language myself,' said Mrs.Loveday.

  'Come to that, the old gentleman will greet thee like it again any dayfor a couple of guineas,' said the miller.

  'That's not the point, father! You never could see the real meaning ofthese things. . . . Well, then he goes on: "Whereas ye are, as it isalleged, determined to enter into the holy estate of matrimony--" Butwhy should I read on? It all means nothing now--nothing, and thesplendid words are all wasted upon air. It seems as if I had been hailedby some venerable hoary prophet, and had turned away, put the helm hardup, and wouldn't hear.'

  Nobody replied, feeling probably that sympathy could not meet the case,and Bob went on reading the rest of it to himself, occasionally heaving abreath like the wind in a ship's shrouds.

  'I wouldn't set my mind so much upon her, if I was thee,' said his fatherat last.

  'Why not?'

  'Well, folk might call thee a fool, and say thy brains were turning towater.'

  Bob was apparently much struck by this thought, and, instead ofcontinuing the discourse further, he carefully folded up the licence,went out, and walked up and down the garden. It was startlingly apt whathis father had said; and, worse than that, what people would call himmight be true, and the liquefaction of his brains turn out to be nofable. By degrees he became much concerned, and the more he examinedhimself by this new light the more clearly did he perceive that he was ina very bad way.

  On reflection he remembered that since Miss Johnson's departure hisappetite had decreased amazingly. He had eaten in meat no more thanfourteen or fifteen ounces a day, but one-third of a quartern pudding onan average, in vegetables only a small heap of potatoes and half a Yorkcabbage, and no gravy whatever; which, considering the usual appetite ofa seaman for fresh food at the end of a long voyage, was no small indexof the depression of his mind. Then he had waked once every night, andon one occasion twice. While dressing each morning since the gloomy dayhe had not whistled more than seven bars of a hornpipe without stoppingand falling into thought of a most painful kind; and he had told none butabsolutely true stories of foreign parts to the neighbouring villagerswhen they saluted and clustered about him, as usual, for anything hechose to pour forth--except that story of the whale whose eye was aboutas large as the round pond in Derriman's ewe-lease--which was liketempting fate to set a seal for ever upon his tongue as a traveller. Allthis enervation, mental and physical, had been produced by Matilda'sdeparture.

  He also considered what he had lost of the rational amusements of manhoodduring these unfortunate days. He might have gone to the neighbouringfashionable resort every afternoon, stood before Gloucester Lodge tillthe King and Queen came out, held his hat in his hand, and enjoyed theirMajesties' smiles at his homage all for nothing--watched thepicket-mounting, heard the different bands strike up, observed the staff;and, above all, have seen the pretty town girls go trip-trip-trip alongthe esplanade, deliberately fixing their innocent eyes on the distantsea, the grey cliffs, and the sky, and accidentally on the soldiers andhimself.

  'I'll raze out her image,' he said. 'She shall make a fool of me nomore.' And his resolve resulted in conduct which had elements of realgreatness.

  He went back to his father, whom he found in the mill-loft. ''Tis true,father, what you say,' he observed: 'my brains will turn to bilge-waterif I think of her much longer. By the oath of a--navigator, I wish Icould sigh less and laugh more! She's gone--why can't I let her go, andbe happy? But how begin?'

  'Take it careless, my son,' said the miller, 'and lay yourself out toenjoy snacks and cordials.'

  'Ah--that's a thought!' said Bob.

  'Baccy is good for't. So is sperrits. Though I don't advise thee todrink neat.'

  'Baccy--I'd almost forgot it!' said Captain Loveday.

  He went to his room, hastily untied the package of tobacco that he hadbrought home, and began to make use of it in his own way, calling toDavid for a bottle of the old household mead that had lain in the cellarthese eleven years. He was discovered by his father three-quarters of anhour later as a half-invisible object behind a cloud of smoke.

  The miller drew a breath of relief. 'Why, Bob,' he said, 'I thought thehouse was a-fire!'

  'I'm smoking rather fast to drown my reflections, father. 'Tis no use tochaw.'

  To tempt his attenuated appetite the unhappy mate made David cook anomelet and bake a seed-cake, the latter so richly compounded that itopened to the knife like a freckled buttercup. With the same object hestuck night-lines into the banks of the mill-pond, and drew up nextmorning a family of fat eels, some of which were skinned and prepared forhis breakfast. They were his favourite fish, but such had been hiscondition that, until the moment of making this effort, he had quiteforgotten their existence at his father's back-door.

  In a few days Bob Loveday had considerably improved in tone and vigour.One other obvious remedy for his dejection was to indulge in the societyof Miss Garland, love being so much more effectually got rid of bydisplacement than by attempted annihilation. But Loveday's belief thathe had offended her beyond forgiveness, and his ever-present sense of heras a woman who by education and antecedents was fitted to adorn a highersphere than his own, effectually kept him from going near her for a longtime, notwithstanding that they were inmates of one house. The reservewas, however, in some degree broken by the appearance one morning, laterin the season, of the point of a saw through the partition which dividedAnne's room from the Loveday half of the house. Though she dined andsupped with her mother and the Loveday family, Miss Garland had stillcontinued to occupy her old apartments, because she found it moreconvenient there to pursue her hobbies of wool-work and of copying herfather's old pictures. The division wall had not as yet been brokendown.

  As the saw worked its way downwards under her astonished gaze Anne jumpedup from her drawing; and presently the temporary canvasing and paperingwhich had sealed up the old door of communication was cut completelythrough. The door burst open, and Bob stood revealed on the other side,with the saw in his hand.

  'I beg your ladyship's pardon,' he said, taking off the hat he had beenworking in, as his handsome face expanded into a smile. 'I didn't knowthis door opened into your private room.'

  'Indeed, Captain Loveday!'

  'I am pulling down the division on principle, as we are now one family.But I really thought the door opened into your passage.'

  'It don't matter; I can get another room.'

  'Not at all. Father wouldn't let me turn you out. I'll close it upagain.'

  But Anne was so interested in the novelty of a new doorway that shewalked through it, and found herself in a dark low passage which she hadnever seen before.

  'It leads to the mill,' said Bob. 'Would you like to go in and see it atwork? But perhaps you have already.'
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  'Only into the ground floor.'

  'Come all over it. I am practising as grinder, you know, to help myfather.'

  She followed him along the dark passage, in the side of which he opened alittle trap, when she saw a great slimy cavern, where the long arms ofthe mill-wheel flung themselves slowly and distractedly round, andsplashing water-drops caught the little light that strayed into thegloomy place, turning it into stars and flashes. A cold mist-laden puffof air came into their faces, and the roar from within made it necessaryfor Anne to shout as she said, 'It is dismal! let us go on.'

  Bob shut the trap, the roar ceased, and they went on to the inner part ofthe mill, where the air was warm and nutty, and pervaded by a fog offlour. Then they ascended the stairs, and saw the stones lumbering roundand round, and the yellow corn running down through the hopper. Theyclimbed yet further to the top stage, where the wheat lay in bins, andwhere long rays like feelers stretched in from the sun through the littlewindow, got nearly lost among cobwebs and timber, and completed theircourse by marking the opposite wall with a glowing patch of gold.

  In his earnestness as an exhibitor Bob opened the bolter, which wasspinning rapidly round, the result being that a dense cloud of flourrolled out in their faces, reminding Anne that her complexion wasprobably much paler by this time than when she had entered the mill. Shethanked her companion for his trouble, and said she would now go down. Hefollowed her with the same deference as hitherto, and with a sudden andincreasing sense that of all cures for his former unhappy passion thiswould have been the nicest, the easiest, and the most effectual, if hehad only been fortunate enough to keep her upon easy terms. But MissGarland showed no disposition to go further than accept his services as aguide; she descended to the open air, shook the flour from her like abird, and went on into the garden amid the September sunshine, whose rayslay level across the blue haze which the earth gave forth. The gnatswere dancing up and down in airy companies, the nasturtium flowers shoneout in groups from the dark hedge over which they climbed, and the mellowsmell of the decline of summer was exhaled by everything. Bob followedher as far as the gate, looked after her, thought of her as the same girlwho had half encouraged him years ago, when she seemed so superior tohim; though now they were almost equal she apparently thought him beneathher. It was with a new sense of pleasure that his mind flew to the factthat she was now an inmate of his father's house.

  His obsequious bearing was continued during the next week. In the busyhours of the day they seldom met, but they regularly encountered eachother at meals, and these cheerful occasions began to have an interestfor him quite irrespective of dishes and cups. When Anne entered andtook her seat she was always loudly hailed by Miller Loveday as hewhetted his knife; but from Bob she condescended to accept no suchfamiliar greeting, and they often sat down together as if each had ablind eye in the direction of the other. Bob sometimes told serious andcorrect stories about sea-captains, pilots, boatswains, mates, ableseamen, and other curious fauna of the marine world; but these weredirectly addressed to his father and Mrs. Loveday, Anne being included atthe clinching-point by a glance only. He sometimes opened bottles ofsweet cider for her, and then she thanked him; but even this did not leadto her encouraging his chat.

  One day when Anne was paring an apple she was left at table with theyoung man. 'I have made something for you,' he said.

  She looked all over the table; nothing was there save the ordinaryremnants.

  'O I don't mean that it is here; it is out by the bridge at themill-head.'

  He arose, and Anne followed with curiosity in her eyes, and with her firmlittle mouth pouted up to a puzzled shape. On reaching the mossy mill-head she found that he had fixed in the keen damp draught which alwaysprevailed over the wheel an AEolian harp of large size. At present thestrings were partly covered with a cloth. He lifted it, and the wiresbegan to emit a weird harmony which mingled curiously with the plashingof the wheel.

  'I made it on purpose for you, Miss Garland,' he said.

  She thanked him very warmly, for she had never seen anything like such aninstrument before, and it interested her. 'It was very thoughtful of youto make it,' she added. 'How came you to think of such a thing?'

  'O I don't know exactly,' he replied, as if he did not care to bequestioned on the point. 'I have never made one in my life till now.'

  Every night after this, during the mournful gales of autumn, the strangemixed music of water, wind, and strings met her ear, swelling and sinkingwith an almost supernatural cadence. The character of the instrument wasfar enough removed from anything she had hitherto seen of Bob's hobbies;so that she marvelled pleasantly at the new depths of poetry thiscontrivance revealed as existent in that young seaman's nature, andallowed her emotions to flow out yet a little further in the olddirection, notwithstanding her late severe resolve to bar them back.

  One breezy night, when the mill was kept going into the small hours, andthe wind was exactly in the direction of the water-current, the music somingled with her dreams as to wake her: it seemed to rhythmically setitself to the words, 'Remember me! think of me!' She was much impressed;the sounds were almost too touching; and she spoke to Bob the nextmorning on the subject.

  'How strange it is that you should have thought of fixing that harp wherethe water gushes!' she gently observed. 'It affects me almost painfullyat night. You are poetical, Captain Bob. But it is too--too sad!'

  'I will take it away,' said Captain Bob promptly. 'It certainly is toosad; I thought so myself. I myself was kept awake by it one night.'

  'How came you to think of making such a peculiar thing?'

  'Well,' said Bob, 'it is hardly worth saying why. It is not a good placefor such a queer noisy machine; and I'll take it away.'

  'On second thoughts,' said Anne, 'I should like it to remain a littlelonger, because it sets me thinking.'

  'Of me?' he asked with earnest frankness.

  Anne's colour rose fast.

  'Well, yes,' she said, trying to infuse much plain matter-of-fact intoher voice. 'Of course I am led to think of the person who invented it.'

  Bob seemed unaccountably embarrassed, and the subject was not pursued.About half-an-hour later he came to her again, with something of anuneasy look.

  'There was a little matter I didn't tell you just now, Miss Garland,' hesaid. 'About that harp thing, I mean. I did make it, certainly, but itwas my brother John who asked me to do it, just before he went away. Johnis very musical, as you know, and he said it would interest you; but ashe didn't ask me to tell, I did not. Perhaps I ought to have, and nothave taken the credit to myself.'

  'O, it is nothing!' said Anne quickly. 'It is a very incompleteinstrument after all, and it will be just as well for you to take it awayas you first proposed.'

  He said that he would, but he forgot to do it that day; and the followingnight there was a high wind, and the harp cried and moaned so movinglythat Anne, whose window was quite near, could hardly bear the sound withits new associations. John Loveday was present to her mind all night asan ill-used man; and yet she could not own that she had ill-used him.

  The harp was removed next day. Bob, feeling that his credit fororiginality was damaged in her eyes, by way of recovering it set himselfto paint the summer-house which Anne frequented, and when he came out heassured her that it was quite his own idea.

  'It wanted doing, certainly,' she said, in a neutral tone.

  'It is just about troublesome.'

  'Yes; you can't quite reach up. That's because you are not very tall; isit not, Captain Loveday?'

  'You never used to say things like that.'

  'O, I don't mean that you are much less than tall! Shall I hold thepaint for you, to save your stepping down?'

  'Thank you, if you would.'

  She took the paint-pot, and stood looking at the brush as it moved up anddown in his hand.

  'I hope I shall not sprinkle your fingers,' he observed as he dipped.

  'O, that wo
uld not matter! You do it very well.'

  'I am glad to hear that you think so.'

  'But perhaps not quite so much art is demanded to paint a summer-house asto paint a picture?'

  Thinking that, as a painter's daughter, and a person of educationsuperior to his own, she spoke with a flavour of sarcasm, he felt humbledand said--

  'You did not use to talk like that to me.'

  'I was perhaps too young then to take any pleasure in giving pain,' sheobserved daringly.

  'Does it give you pleasure?'

  Anne nodded.

  'I like to give pain to people who have given pain to me,' she saidsmartly, without removing her eyes from the green liquid in her hand.

  'I ask your pardon for that.'

  'I didn't say I meant you--though I did mean you.'

  Bob looked and looked at her side face till he was bewitched into puttingdown his brush.

  'It was that stupid forgetting of 'ee for a time!' he exclaimed. 'Well,I hadn't seen you for so very long--consider how many years! O, dearAnne!' he said, advancing to take her hand, 'how well we knew one anotherwhen we were children! You was a queen to me then; and so you are now,and always.'

  Possibly Anne was thrilled pleasantly enough at having brought the truantvillage lad to her feet again; but he was not to find the situation soeasy as he imagined, and her hand was not to be taken yet.

  'Very pretty!' she said, laughing. 'And only six weeks since MissJohnson left.'

  'Zounds, don't say anything about that!' implored Bob. 'I swear that Inever--never deliberately loved her--for a long time together, that is;it was a sudden sort of thing, you know. But towards you--I have more orless honoured and respectfully loved you, off and on, all my life. There,that's true.'

  Anne retorted quickly--

  'I am willing, off and on, to believe you, Captain Robert. But I don'tsee any good in your making these solemn declarations.'

  'Give me leave to explain, dear Miss Garland. It is to get you to bepleased to renew an old promise--made years ago--that you'll think o'me.'

  'Not a word of any promise will I repeat.'

  'Well, well, I won't urge 'ee to-day. Only let me beg of you to get overthe quite wrong notion you have of me; and it shall be my whole endeavourto fetch your gracious favour.'

  Anne turned away from him and entered the house, whither in the course ofa quarter of an hour he followed her, knocking at her door, and asking tobe let in. She said she was busy; whereupon he went away, to come backagain in a short time and receive the same answer.

  'I have finished painting the summer-house for you,' he said through thedoor.

  'I cannot come to see it. I shall be engaged till supper-time.'

  She heard him breathe a heavy sigh and withdraw, murmuring somethingabout his bad luck in being cut away from the starn like this. But itwas not over yet. When supper-time came and they sat down together, shetook upon herself to reprove him for what he had said to her in thegarden.

  Bob made his forehead express despair.

  'Now, I beg you this one thing,' he said. 'Just let me know your wholemind. Then I shall have a chance to confess my faults and mend them, orclear my conduct to your satisfaction.'

  She answered with quickness, but not loud enough to be heard by the oldpeople at the other end of the table--'Then, Captain Loveday, I will tellyou one thing, one fault, that perhaps would have been more proper to mycharacter than to yours. You are too easily impressed by new faces, andthat gives me a _bad opinion_ of you--yes, a _bad opinion_.'

  'O, that's it!' said Bob slowly, looking at her with the intense respectof a pupil for a master, her words being spoken in a manner so preciselybetween jest and earnest that he was in some doubt how they were to bereceived. 'Impressed by new faces. It is wrong, certainly, of me.'

  The popping of a cork, and the pouring out of strong beer by the millerwith a view to giving it a head, were apparently distractions sufficientto excuse her in not attending further to him; and during the remainderof the sitting her gentle chiding seemed to be sinking seriously into hismind. Perhaps her own heart ached to see how silent he was; but she hadalways meant to punish him. Day after day for two or three weeks shepreserved the same demeanour, with a self-control which did justice toher character. And, on his part, considering what he had to put upwith--how she eluded him, snapped him off, refused to come out when hecalled her, refused to see him when he wanted to enter the little parlourwhich she had now appropriated to her private use, his patience testifiedstrongly to his good-humour.