CHAPTER LII
CONVERGING COURSES
I
Christmas-eve came, and a party that Boldwood was to give in theevening was the great subject of talk in Weatherbury. It was notthat the rarity of Christmas parties in the parish made this one awonder, but that Boldwood should be the giver. The announcementhad had an abnormal and incongruous sound, as if one should hear ofcroquet-playing in a cathedral aisle, or that some much-respectedjudge was going upon the stage. That the party was intended to bea truly jovial one there was no room for doubt. A large bough ofmistletoe had been brought from the woods that day, and suspendedin the hall of the bachelor's home. Holly and ivy had followed inarmfuls. From six that morning till past noon the huge wood firein the kitchen roared and sparkled at its highest, the kettle, thesaucepan, and the three-legged pot appearing in the midst of theflames like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego; moreover, roastingand basting operations were continually carried on in front of thegenial blaze.
As it grew later the fire was made up in the large long hall intowhich the staircase descended, and all encumbrances were cleared outfor dancing. The log which was to form the back-brand of the eveningfire was the uncleft trunk of a tree, so unwieldy that it could beneither brought nor rolled to its place; and accordingly two men wereto be observed dragging and heaving it in by chains and levers as thehour of assembly drew near.
In spite of all this, the spirit of revelry was wanting in theatmosphere of the house. Such a thing had never been attemptedbefore by its owner, and it was now done as by a wrench. Intendedgaieties would insist upon appearing like solemn grandeurs, theorganization of the whole effort was carried out coldly, byhirelings, and a shadow seemed to move about the rooms, saying thatthe proceedings were unnatural to the place and the lone man wholived therein, and hence not good.
II
Bathsheba was at this time in her room, dressing for the event. Shehad called for candles, and Liddy entered and placed one on each sideof her mistress's glass.
"Don't go away, Liddy," said Bathsheba, almost timidly. "I amfoolishly agitated--I cannot tell why. I wish I had not been obligedto go to this dance; but there's no escaping now. I have not spokento Mr. Boldwood since the autumn, when I promised to see him atChristmas on business, but I had no idea there was to be anything ofthis kind."
"But I would go now," said Liddy, who was going with her; forBoldwood had been indiscriminate in his invitations.
"Yes, I shall make my appearance, of course," said Bathsheba. "But Iam THE CAUSE of the party, and that upsets me!--Don't tell, Liddy."
"Oh no, ma'am. You the cause of it, ma'am?"
"Yes. I am the reason of the party--I. If it had not been for me,there would never have been one. I can't explain any more--there'sno more to be explained. I wish I had never seen Weatherbury."
"That's wicked of you--to wish to be worse off than you are."
"No, Liddy. I have never been free from trouble since I have livedhere, and this party is likely to bring me more. Now, fetch my blacksilk dress, and see how it sits upon me."
"But you will leave off that, surely, ma'am? You have been awidow-lady fourteen months, and ought to brighten up a little onsuch a night as this."
"Is it necessary? No; I will appear as usual, for if I were to wearany light dress people would say things about me, and I should seemto be rejoicing when I am solemn all the time. The party doesn'tsuit me a bit; but never mind, stay and help to finish me off."
III
Boldwood was dressing also at this hour. A tailor from Casterbridgewas with him, assisting him in the operation of trying on a new coatthat had just been brought home.
Never had Boldwood been so fastidious, unreasonable about the fit,and generally difficult to please. The tailor walked round and roundhim, tugged at the waist, pulled the sleeve, pressed out the collar,and for the first time in his experience Boldwood was not bored.Times had been when the farmer had exclaimed against all suchniceties as childish, but now no philosophic or hasty rebuke whateverwas provoked by this man for attaching as much importance to a creasein the coat as to an earthquake in South America. Boldwood at lastexpressed himself nearly satisfied, and paid the bill, the tailorpassing out of the door just as Oak came in to report progress forthe day.
"Oh, Oak," said Boldwood. "I shall of course see you here to-night.Make yourself merry. I am determined that neither expense nortrouble shall be spared."
"I'll try to be here, sir, though perhaps it may not be very early,"said Gabriel, quietly. "I am glad indeed to see such a change in'ee from what it used to be."
"Yes--I must own it--I am bright to-night: cheerful and more thancheerful--so much so that I am almost sad again with the sense thatall of it is passing away. And sometimes, when I am excessivelyhopeful and blithe, a trouble is looming in the distance: so that Ioften get to look upon gloom in me with content, and to fear a happymood. Still this may be absurd--I feel that it is absurd. Perhapsmy day is dawning at last."
"I hope it 'ill be a long and a fair one."
"Thank you--thank you. Yet perhaps my cheerfulness rests on aslender hope. And yet I trust my hope. It is faith, not hope. Ithink this time I reckon with my host.--Oak, my hands are a littleshaky, or something; I can't tie this neckerchief properly. Perhapsyou will tie it for me. The fact is, I have not been well lately,you know."
"I am sorry to hear that, sir."
"Oh, it's nothing. I want it done as well as you can, please. Isthere any late knot in fashion, Oak?"
"I don't know, sir," said Oak. His tone had sunk to sadness.
Boldwood approached Gabriel, and as Oak tied the neckerchief thefarmer went on feverishly--
"Does a woman keep her promise, Gabriel?"
"If it is not inconvenient to her she may."
"--Or rather an implied promise."
"I won't answer for her implying," said Oak, with faint bitterness."That's a word as full o' holes as a sieve with them."
"Oak, don't talk like that. You have got quite cynical lately--howis it? We seem to have shifted our positions: I have become theyoung and hopeful man, and you the old and unbelieving one. However,does a woman keep a promise, not to marry, but to enter on anengagement to marry at some time? Now you know women better thanI--tell me."
"I am afeard you honour my understanding too much. However, she maykeep such a promise, if it is made with an honest meaning to repaira wrong."
"It has not gone far yet, but I think it will soon--yes, I know itwill," he said, in an impulsive whisper. "I have pressed her uponthe subject, and she inclines to be kind to me, and to think of meas a husband at a long future time, and that's enough for me. Howcan I expect more? She has a notion that a woman should not marrywithin seven years of her husband's disappearance--that her own selfshouldn't, I mean--because his body was not found. It may be merelythis legal reason which influences her, or it may be a religiousone, but she is reluctant to talk on the point. Yet she haspromised--implied--that she will ratify an engagement to-night."
"Seven years," murmured Oak.
"No, no--it's no such thing!" he said, with impatience. "Five years,nine months, and a few days. Fifteen months nearly have passed sincehe vanished, and is there anything so wonderful in an engagement oflittle more than five years?"
"It seems long in a forward view. Don't build too much upon suchpromises, sir. Remember, you have once be'n deceived. Her meaningmay be good; but there--she's young yet."
"Deceived? Never!" said Boldwood, vehemently. "She never promisedme at that first time, and hence she did not break her promise! Ifshe promises me, she'll marry me. Bathsheba is a woman to her word."
IV
Troy was sitting in a corner of The White Hart tavern atCasterbridge, smoking and drinking a steaming mixture from a glass.A knock was given at the door, and Pennyways entered.
"Well, have you seen him?" Troy inquired, pointing to a chair.
"Boldwood?"
"No--Lawyer Lon
g."
"He wadn' at home. I went there first, too."
"That's a nuisance."
"'Tis rather, I suppose."
"Yet I don't see that, because a man appears to be drowned and wasnot, he should be liable for anything. I shan't ask any lawyer--notI."
"But that's not it, exactly. If a man changes his name and so forth,and takes steps to deceive the world and his own wife, he's a cheat,and that in the eye of the law is ayless a rogue, and that is aylessa lammocken vagabond; and that's a punishable situation."
"Ha-ha! Well done, Pennyways," Troy had laughed, but it was withsome anxiety that he said, "Now, what I want to know is this, do youthink there's really anything going on between her and Boldwood?Upon my soul, I should never have believed it! How she must detestme! Have you found out whether she has encouraged him?"
"I haen't been able to learn. There's a deal of feeling on his sideseemingly, but I don't answer for her. I didn't know a word aboutany such thing till yesterday, and all I heard then was that she wasgwine to the party at his house to-night. This is the first time shehas ever gone there, they say. And they say that she've not so muchas spoke to him since they were at Greenhill Fair: but what can folkbelieve o't? However, she's not fond of him--quite offish and quitecareless, I know."
"I'm not so sure of that.... She's a handsome woman, Pennyways, isshe not? Own that you never saw a finer or more splendid creaturein your life. Upon my honour, when I set eyes upon her that day Iwondered what I could have been made of to be able to leave her byherself so long. And then I was hampered with that bothering show,which I'm free of at last, thank the stars." He smoked on awhile,and then added, "How did she look when you passed by yesterday?"
"Oh, she took no great heed of me, ye may well fancy; but she lookedwell enough, far's I know. Just flashed her haughty eyes upon mypoor scram body, and then let them go past me to what was yond, muchas if I'd been no more than a leafless tree. She had just got offher mare to look at the last wring-down of cider for the year; shehad been riding, and so her colours were up and her breath ratherquick, so that her bosom plimmed and fell--plimmed and fell--everytime plain to my eye. Ay, and there were the fellers round herwringing down the cheese and bustling about and saying, 'Ware o' thepommy, ma'am: 'twill spoil yer gown.' 'Never mind me,' says she.Then Gabe brought her some of the new cider, and she must needs godrinking it through a strawmote, and not in a nateral way at all.'Liddy,' says she, 'bring indoors a few gallons, and I'll make somecider-wine.' Sergeant, I was no more to her than a morsel of scroffin the fuel-house!"
"I must go and find her out at once--O yes, I see that--I must go.Oak is head man still, isn't he?"
"Yes, 'a b'lieve. And at Little Weatherbury Farm too. He manageseverything."
"'Twill puzzle him to manage her, or any other man of his compass!"
"I don't know about that. She can't do without him, and knowing itwell he's pretty independent. And she've a few soft corners to hermind, though I've never been able to get into one, the devil's in't!"
"Ah, baily, she's a notch above you, and you must own it: a higherclass of animal--a finer tissue. However, stick to me, and neitherthis haughty goddess, dashing piece of womanhood, Juno-wife of mine(Juno was a goddess, you know), nor anybody else shall hurt you. Butall this wants looking into, I perceive. What with one thing andanother, I see that my work is well cut out for me."
V
"How do I look to-night, Liddy?" said Bathsheba, giving a finaladjustment to her dress before leaving the glass.
"I never saw you look so well before. Yes--I'll tell you when youlooked like it--that night, a year and a half ago, when you came inso wildlike, and scolded us for making remarks about you and Mr.Troy."
"Everybody will think that I am setting myself to captivate Mr.Boldwood, I suppose," she murmured. "At least they'll say so. Can'tmy hair be brushed down a little flatter? I dread going--yet I dreadthe risk of wounding him by staying away."
"Anyhow, ma'am, you can't well be dressed plainer than you are,unless you go in sackcloth at once. 'Tis your excitement is whatmakes you look so noticeable to-night."
"I don't know what's the matter, I feel wretched at one time, andbuoyant at another. I wish I could have continued quite alone as Ihave been for the last year or so, with no hopes and no fears, andno pleasure and no grief."
"Now just suppose Mr. Boldwood should ask you--only just supposeit--to run away with him, what would you do, ma'am?"
"Liddy--none of that," said Bathsheba, gravely. "Mind, I won't hearjoking on any such matter. Do you hear?"
"I beg pardon, ma'am. But knowing what rum things we women be, Ijust said--however, I won't speak of it again."
"No marrying for me yet for many a year; if ever, 'twill be forreasons very, very different from those you think, or others willbelieve! Now get my cloak, for it is time to go."
VI
"Oak," said Boldwood, "before you go I want to mention what has beenpassing in my mind lately--that little arrangement we made aboutyour share in the farm I mean. That share is small, too small,considering how little I attend to business now, and how much timeand thought you give to it. Well, since the world is brighteningfor me, I want to show my sense of it by increasing your proportionin the partnership. I'll make a memorandum of the arrangement whichstruck me as likely to be convenient, for I haven't time to talkabout it now; and then we'll discuss it at our leisure. My intentionis ultimately to retire from the management altogether, and until youcan take all the expenditure upon your shoulders, I'll be a sleepingpartner in the stock. Then, if I marry her--and I hope--I feel Ishall, why--"
"Pray don't speak of it, sir," said Oak, hastily. "We don't knowwhat may happen. So many upsets may befall 'ee. There's many aslip, as they say--and I would advise you--I know you'll pardon methis once--not to be TOO SURE."
"I know, I know. But the feeling I have about increasing your shareis on account of what I know of you. Oak, I have learnt a littleabout your secret: your interest in her is more than that of bailifffor an employer. But you have behaved like a man, and I, as a sortof successful rival--successful partly through your goodness ofheart--should like definitely to show my sense of your friendshipunder what must have been a great pain to you."
"O that's not necessary, thank 'ee," said Oak, hurriedly. "I must getused to such as that; other men have, and so shall I."
Oak then left him. He was uneasy on Boldwood's account, for he sawanew that this constant passion of the farmer made him not the manhe once had been.
As Boldwood continued awhile in his room alone--ready and dressed toreceive his company--the mood of anxiety about his appearance seemedto pass away, and to be succeeded by a deep solemnity. He looked outof the window, and regarded the dim outline of the trees upon thesky, and the twilight deepening to darkness.
Then he went to a locked closet, and took from a locked drawertherein a small circular case the size of a pillbox, and was about toput it into his pocket. But he lingered to open the cover and takea momentary glance inside. It contained a woman's finger-ring, setall the way round with small diamonds, and from its appearance hadevidently been recently purchased. Boldwood's eyes dwelt upon itsmany sparkles a long time, though that its material aspect concernedhim little was plain from his manner and mien, which were those ofa mind following out the presumed thread of that jewel's futurehistory.
The noise of wheels at the front of the house became audible.Boldwood closed the box, stowed it away carefully in his pocket, andwent out upon the landing. The old man who was his indoor factotumcame at the same moment to the foot of the stairs.
"They be coming, sir--lots of 'em--a-foot and a-driving!"
"I was coming down this moment. Those wheels I heard--is it Mrs.Troy?"
"No, sir--'tis not she yet."
A reserved and sombre expression had returned to Boldwood's faceagain, but it poorly cloaked his feelings when he pronouncedBathsheba's name; and his feverish anxiety continued to
show itsexistence by a galloping motion of his fingers upon the side ofhis thigh as he went down the stairs.
VII
"How does this cover me?" said Troy to Pennyways. "Nobody wouldrecognize me now, I'm sure."
He was buttoning on a heavy grey overcoat of Noachian cut, with capeand high collar, the latter being erect and rigid, like a girdlingwall, and nearly reaching to the verge of a travelling cap which waspulled down over his ears.
Pennyways snuffed the candle, and then looked up and deliberatelyinspected Troy.
"You've made up your mind to go then?" he said.
"Made up my mind? Yes; of course I have."
"Why not write to her? 'Tis a very queer corner that you have gotinto, sergeant. You see all these things will come to light if yougo back, and they won't sound well at all. Faith, if I was you I'deven bide as you be--a single man of the name of Francis. A goodwife is good, but the best wife is not so good as no wife at all.Now that's my outspoke mind, and I've been called a long-headedfeller here and there."
"All nonsense!" said Troy, angrily. "There she is with plenty ofmoney, and a house and farm, and horses, and comfort, and here am Iliving from hand to mouth--a needy adventurer. Besides, it is no usetalking now; it is too late, and I am glad of it; I've been seen andrecognized here this very afternoon. I should have gone back to herthe day after the fair, if it hadn't been for you talking about thelaw, and rubbish about getting a separation and I don't put it offany longer. What the deuce put it into my head to run away at all, Ican't think! Humbugging sentiment--that's what it was. But what manon earth was to know that his wife would be in such a hurry to getrid of his name!"
"I should have known it. She's bad enough for anything."
"Pennyways, mind who you are talking to."
"Well, sergeant, all I say is this, that if I were you I'd go abroadagain where I came from--'tisn't too late to do it now. I wouldn'tstir up the business and get a bad name for the sake of living withher--for all that about your play-acting is sure to come out, youknow, although you think otherwise. My eyes and limbs, there'llbe a racket if you go back just now--in the middle of Boldwood'sChristmasing!"
"H'm, yes. I expect I shall not be a very welcome guest if he hasher there," said the sergeant, with a slight laugh. "A sort ofAlonzo the Brave; and when I go in the guests will sit in silence andfear, and all laughter and pleasure will be hushed, and the lights inthe chamber burn blue, and the worms--Ugh, horrible!--Ring for somemore brandy, Pennyways, I felt an awful shudder just then! Well,what is there besides? A stick--I must have a walking-stick."
Pennyways now felt himself to be in something of a difficulty, forshould Bathsheba and Troy become reconciled it would be necessaryto regain her good opinion if he would secure the patronage of herhusband. "I sometimes think she likes you yet, and is a good womanat bottom," he said, as a saving sentence. "But there's no tellingto a certainty from a body's outside. Well, you'll do as you likeabout going, of course, sergeant, and as for me, I'll do as you tellme."
"Now, let me see what the time is," said Troy, after emptying hisglass in one draught as he stood. "Half-past six o'clock. I shallnot hurry along the road, and shall be there then before nine."