Far from the Madding Crowd

  CHAPTER XVI

  ALL SAINTS' AND ALL SOULS'

  On a week-day morning a small congregation, consisting mainly ofwomen and girls, rose from its knees in the mouldy nave of a churchcalled All Saints', in the distant barrack-town before-mentioned, atthe end of a service without a sermon. They were about to disperse,when a smart footstep, entering the porch and coming up the centralpassage, arrested their attention. The step echoed with a ringunusual in a church; it was the clink of spurs. Everybody looked. Ayoung cavalry soldier in a red uniform, with the three chevrons of asergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle, with an embarrassmentwhich was only the more marked by the intense vigour of his step, andby the determination upon his face to show none. A slight flush hadmounted his cheek by the time he had run the gauntlet between thesewomen; but, passing on through the chancel arch, he never paused tillhe came close to the altar railing. Here for a moment he stoodalone.

  The officiating curate, who had not yet doffed his surplice,perceived the new-comer, and followed him to the communion-space. Hewhispered to the soldier, and then beckoned to the clerk, who in histurn whispered to an elderly woman, apparently his wife, and theyalso went up the chancel steps.

  "'Tis a wedding!" murmured some of the women, brightening. "Let'swait!"

  The majority again sat down.

  There was a creaking of machinery behind, and some of the young onesturned their heads. From the interior face of the west wall of thetower projected a little canopy with a quarter-jack and small bellbeneath it, the automaton being driven by the same clock machinerythat struck the large bell in the tower. Between the tower and thechurch was a close screen, the door of which was kept shut duringservices, hiding this grotesque clockwork from sight. At present,however, the door was open, and the egress of the jack, the blows onthe bell, and the mannikin's retreat into the nook again, werevisible to many, and audible throughout the church.

  The jack had struck half-past eleven.

  "Where's the woman?" whispered some of the spectators.

  The young sergeant stood still with the abnormal rigidity of the oldpillars around. He faced the south-east, and was as silent as he wasstill.

  The silence grew to be a noticeable thing as the minutes went on,and nobody else appeared, and not a soul moved. The rattle of thequarter-jack again from its niche, its blows for three-quarters, itsfussy retreat, were almost painfully abrupt, and caused many of thecongregation to start palpably.

  "I wonder where the woman is!" a voice whispered again.

  There began now that slight shifting of feet, that artificialcoughing among several, which betrays a nervous suspense. At lengththere was a titter. But the soldier never moved. There he stood,his face to the south-east, upright as a column, his cap in his hand.

  The clock ticked on. The women threw off their nervousness, andtitters and giggling became more frequent. Then came a dead silence.Every one was waiting for the end. Some persons may have noticed howextraordinarily the striking of quarters seems to quicken the flightof time. It was hardly credible that the jack had not got wrong withthe minutes when the rattle began again, the puppet emerged, and thefour quarters were struck fitfully as before. One could almost bepositive that there was a malicious leer upon the hideous creature'sface, and a mischievous delight in its twitchings. Then followed thedull and remote resonance of the twelve heavy strokes in the towerabove. The women were impressed, and there was no giggle this time.

  The clergyman glided into the vestry, and the clerk vanished. Thesergeant had not yet turned; every woman in the church was waiting tosee his face, and he appeared to know it. At last he did turn, andstalked resolutely down the nave, braving them all, with a compressedlip. Two bowed and toothless old almsmen then looked at each otherand chuckled, innocently enough; but the sound had a strange weirdeffect in that place.

  Opposite to the church was a paved square, around which severaloverhanging wood buildings of old time cast a picturesque shade. Theyoung man on leaving the door went to cross the square, when, in themiddle, he met a little woman. The expression of her face, which hadbeen one of intense anxiety, sank at the sight of his nearly toterror.

  "Well?" he said, in a suppressed passion, fixedly looking at her.

  "Oh, Frank--I made a mistake!--I thought that church with the spirewas All Saints', and I was at the door at half-past eleven to aminute as you said. I waited till a quarter to twelve, and foundthen that I was in All Souls'. But I wasn't much frightened, forI thought it could be to-morrow as well."

  "You fool, for so fooling me! But say no more."

  "Shall it be to-morrow, Frank?" she asked blankly.

  "To-morrow!" and he gave vent to a hoarse laugh. "I don't go throughthat experience again for some time, I warrant you!"

  "But after all," she expostulated in a trembling voice, "the mistakewas not such a terrible thing! Now, dear Frank, when shall it be?"

  "Ah, when? God knows!" he said, with a light irony, and turning fromher walked rapidly away.