X
A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion
The next morning, at the time when the height of the sun appeared veryinsignificant from any part of the heath as compared with the altitudeof Rainbarrow, and when all the little hills in the lower levels werelike an archipelago in a fog-formed Aegean, the reddleman came fromthe brambled nook which he had adopted as his quarters and ascendedthe slopes of Mistover Knap.
Though these shaggy hills were apparently so solitary, several keenround eyes were always ready on such a wintry morning as this toconverge upon a passer-by. Feathered species sojourned here in hidingwhich would have created wonder if found elsewhere. A bustard hauntedthe spot, and not many years before this five and twenty might havebeen seen in Egdon at one time. Marsh-harriers looked up from thevalley by Wildeve's. A cream-coloured courser had used to visit thishill, a bird so rare that not more than a dozen have ever been seenin England; but a barbarian rested neither night nor day till he hadshot the African truant, and after that event cream-coloured coursersthought fit to enter Egdon no more.
A traveller who should walk and observe any of these visitants as Vennobserved them now could feel himself to be in direct communicationwith regions unknown to man. Here in front of him was a wildmallard--just arrived from the home of the north wind. The creaturebrought within him an amplitude of Northern knowledge. Glacialcatastrophes, snowstorm episodes, glittering auroral effects, Polarisin the zenith, Franklin underfoot,--the category of his commonplaceswas wonderful. But the bird, like many other philosophers, seemedas he looked at the reddleman to think that a present moment ofcomfortable reality was worth a decade of memories.
Venn passed on through these towards the house of the isolated beautywho lived up among them and despised them. The day was Sunday; butas going to church, except to be married or buried, was exceptionalat Egdon, this made little difference. He had determined upon thebold stroke of asking for an interview with Miss Vye--to attackher position as Thomasin's rival either by art or by storm,showing therein, somewhat too conspicuously, the want of gallantrycharacteristic of a certain astute sort of men, from clowns to kings.The great Frederick making war on the beautiful Archduchess, Napoleonrefusing terms to the beautiful Queen of Prussia, were not more deadto difference of sex than the reddleman was, in his peculiar way, inplanning the displacement of Eustacia.
To call at the captain's cottage was always more or less anundertaking for the inferior inhabitants. Though occasionally chatty,his moods were erratic, and nobody could be certain how he wouldbehave at any particular moment. Eustacia was reserved, and livedvery much to herself. Except the daughter of one of the cotters, whowas their servant, and a lad who worked in the garden and stable,scarcely anyone but themselves ever entered the house. They were theonly genteel people of the district except the Yeobrights, and thoughfar from rich, they did not feel that necessity for preserving afriendly face towards every man, bird, and beast which influencedtheir poorer neighbours.
When the reddleman entered the garden the old man was looking throughhis glass at the stain of blue sea in the distant landscape, thelittle anchors on his buttons twinkling in the sun. He recognizedVenn as his companion on the highway, but made no remark on thatcircumstance, merely saying, "Ah, reddleman--you here? Have a glassof grog?"
Venn declined, on the plea of it being too early, and stated thathis business was with Miss Vye. The captain surveyed him from capto waistcoat and from waistcoat to leggings for a few moments, andfinally asked him to go indoors.
Miss Vye was not to be seen by anybody just then; and the reddlemanwaited in the window-bench of the kitchen, his hands hanging acrosshis divergent knees, and his cap hanging from his hands.
"I suppose the young lady is not up yet?" he presently said to theservant.
"Not quite yet. Folks never call upon ladies at this time of day."
"Then I'll step outside," said Venn. "If she is willing to see me,will she please send out word, and I'll come in."
The reddleman left the house and loitered on the hill adjoining.A considerable time elapsed, and no request for his presence wasbrought. He was beginning to think that his scheme had failed, whenhe beheld the form of Eustacia herself coming leisurely towards him.A sense of novelty in giving audience to that singular figure had beensufficient to draw her forth.
She seemed to feel, after a bare look at Diggory Venn, that the manhad come on a strange errand, and that he was not so mean as shehad thought him; for her close approach did not cause him to writheuneasily, or shift his feet, or show any of those little signs whichescape an ingenuous rustic at the advent of the uncommon in womankind.On his inquiring if he might have a conversation with her she replied,"Yes, walk beside me," and continued to move on.
Before they had gone far it occurred to the perspicaciousreddleman that he would have acted more wisely by appearing lessunimpressionable, and he resolved to correct the error as soon as hecould find opportunity.
"I have made so bold, miss, as to step across and tell you somestrange news which has come to my ears about that man."
"Ah! what man?"
He jerked his elbow to the south-east--the direction of the QuietWoman.
Eustacia turned quickly to him. "Do you mean Mr. Wildeve?"
"Yes, there is trouble in a household on account of him, and I havecome to let you know of it, because I believe you might have power todrive it away."
"I? What is the trouble?"
"It is quite a secret. It is that he may refuse to marry ThomasinYeobright after all."
Eustacia, though set inwardly pulsing by his words, was equal to herpart in such a drama as this. She replied coldly, "I do not wish tolisten to this, and you must not expect me to interfere."
"But, miss, you will hear one word?"
"I cannot. I am not interested in the marriage, and even if I were Icould not compel Mr. Wildeve to do my bidding."
"As the only lady on the heath I think you might," said Venn withsubtle indirectness. "This is how the case stands. Mr. Wildeve wouldmarry Thomasin at once, and make all matters smooth, if so be therewere not another woman in the case. This other woman is some personhe has picked up with, and meets on the heath occasionally, I believe.He will never marry her, and yet through her he may never marry thewoman who loves him dearly. Now, if you, miss, who have so much swayover us men-folk, were to insist that he should treat your youngneighbour Tamsin with honourable kindness and give up the other woman,he would perhaps do it, and save her a good deal of misery."
"Ah, my life!" said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lipsso that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent ita similar scarlet fire. "You think too much of my influence overmen-folk indeed, reddleman. If I had such a power as you imagine Iwould go straight and use it for the good of anybody who has beenkind to me--which Thomasin Yeobright has not particularly, to myknowledge."
"Can it be that you really don't know of it--how much she had alwaysthought of you?"
"I have never heard a word of it. Although we live only two milesapart I have never been inside her aunt's house in my life."
The superciliousness that lurked in her manner told Venn that thus farhe had utterly failed. He inwardly sighed and felt it necessary tounmask his second argument.
"Well, leaving that out of the question, 'tis in your power, I assureyou, Miss Vye, to do a great deal of good to another woman."
She shook her head.
"Your comeliness is law with Mr. Wildeve. It is law with all men whosee 'ee. They say, 'This well-favoured lady coming--what's her name?How handsome!' Handsomer than Thomasin Yeobright," the reddlemanpersisted, saying to himself, "God forgive a rascal for lying!" Andshe was handsomer, but the reddleman was far from thinking so. Therewas a certain obscurity in Eustacia's beauty, and Venn's eye was nottrained. In her winter dress, as now, she was like the tiger-beetle,which, when observed in dull situations, seems to be of the quietestneutral colour, but under a full illumination blazes with dazzlingsplendour.
> Eustacia could not help replying, though conscious that she endangeredher dignity thereby. "Many women are lovelier than Thomasin," shesaid, "so not much attaches to that."
The reddleman suffered the wound and went on: "He is a man whonotices the looks of women, and you could twist him to your will likewithywind, if you only had the mind."
"Surely what she cannot do who has been so much with him I cannot doliving up here away from him."
The reddleman wheeled and looked her in the face. "Miss Vye!" hesaid.
"Why do you say that--as if you doubted me?" She spoke faintly, andher breathing was quick. "The idea of your speaking in that tone tome!" she added, with a forced smile of hauteur. "What could have beenin your mind to lead you to speak like that?"
"Miss Vye, why should you make believe that you don't know thisman?--I know why, certainly. He is beneath you, and you are ashamed."
"You are mistaken. What do you mean?"
The reddleman had decided to play the card of truth. "I was at themeeting by Rainbarrow last night and heard every word," he said. "Thewoman that stands between Wildeve and Thomasin is yourself."
It was a disconcerting lift of the curtain, and the mortification ofCandaules' wife glowed in her. The moment had arrived when her lipwould tremble in spite of herself, and when the gasp could no longerbe kept down.
"I am unwell," she said hurriedly. "No--it is not that--I am not in ahumour to hear you further. Leave me, please."
"I must speak, Miss Vye, in spite of paining you. What I would putbefore you is this. However it may come about--whether she is toblame, or you--her case is without doubt worse than yours. Yourgiving up Mr. Wildeve will be a real advantage to you, for how couldyou marry him? Now she cannot get off so easily--everybody will blameher if she loses him. Then I ask you--not because her right is best,but because her situation is worst--to give him up to her."
"No--I won't, I won't!" she said impetuously, quite forgetful of herprevious manner towards the reddleman as an underling. "Nobody hasever been served so! It was going on well--I will not be beatendown--by an inferior woman like her. It is very well for you to comeand plead for her, but is she not herself the cause of all her owntrouble? Am I not to show favour to any person I may choose withoutasking permission of a parcel of cottagers? She has come between meand my inclination, and now that she finds herself rightly punishedshe gets you to plead for her!"
"Indeed," said Venn earnestly, "she knows nothing whatever about it.It is only I who ask you to give him up. It will be better for herand you both. People will say bad things if they find out that a ladysecretly meets a man who has ill-used another woman."
"I have NOT injured her--he was mine before he was hers! He cameback--because--because he liked me best!" she said wildly. "But Ilose all self-respect in talking to you. What am I giving way to!"
"I can keep secrets," said Venn gently. "You need not fear. I am theonly man who knows of your meetings with him. There is but one thingmore to speak of, and then I will be gone. I heard you say to himthat you hated living here--that Egdon Heath was a jail to you."
"I did say so. There is a sort of beauty in the scenery, I know; butit is a jail to me. The man you mention does not save me from thatfeeling, though he lives here. I should have cared nothing for himhad there been a better person near."
The reddleman looked hopeful; after these words from her his thirdattempt seemed promising. "As we have now opened our minds a bit,miss," he said, "I'll tell you what I have got to propose. Since Ihave taken to the reddle trade I travel a good deal, as you know."
She inclined her head, and swept round so that her eyes rested in themisty vale beneath them.
"And in my travels I go near Budmouth. Now Budmouth is a wonderfulplace--wonderful--a great salt sheening sea bending into the landlike a bow--thousands of gentlepeople walking up and down--bands ofmusic playing--officers by sea and officers by land walking among therest--out of every ten folks you meet nine of 'em in love."
"I know it," she said disdainfully. "I know Budmouth better than you.I was born there. My father came to be a military musician there fromabroad. Ah, my soul, Budmouth! I wish I was there now."
The reddleman was surprised to see how a slow fire could blaze onoccasion. "If you were, miss," he replied, "in a week's time youwould think no more of Wildeve than of one of those he'th-croppersthat we see yond. Now, I could get you there."
"How?" said Eustacia, with intense curiosity in her heavy eyes.
"My uncle has been for five and twenty years the trusty man of a richwidow-lady who has a beautiful house facing the sea. This lady hasbecome old and lame, and she wants a young company-keeper to read andsing to her, but can't get one to her mind to save her life, thoughshe've advertised in the papers, and tried half a dozen. She wouldjump to get you, and uncle would make it all easy."
"I should have to work, perhaps?"
"No, not real work: you'd have a little to do, such as reading andthat. You would not be wanted till New Year's Day."
"I knew it meant work," she said, drooping to languor again.
"I confess there would be a trifle to do in the way of amusing her;but though idle people might call it work, working people would callit play. Think of the company and the life you'd lead, miss; thegaiety you'd see, and the gentleman you'd marry. My uncle is toinquire for a trustworthy young lady from the country, as she don'tlike town girls."
"It is to wear myself out to please her! and I won't go. O, if Icould live in a gay town as a lady should, and go my own ways, and domy own doings, I'd give the wrinkled half of my life! Yes, reddleman,that would I."
"Help me to get Thomasin happy, miss, and the chance shall be yours,"urged her companion.
"Chance--'tis no chance," she said proudly. "What can a poor man likeyou offer me, indeed?--I am going indoors. I have nothing more tosay. Don't your horses want feeding, or your reddlebags want mending,or don't you want to find buyers for your goods, that you stay idlinghere like this?"
Venn spoke not another word. With his hands behind him he turnedaway, that she might not see the hopeless disappointment in his face.The mental clearness and power he had found in this lonely girl hadindeed filled his manner with misgiving even from the first fewminutes of close quarters with her. Her youth and situation had ledhim to expect a simplicity quite at the beck of his method. But asystem of inducement which might have carried weaker country lassesalong with it had merely repelled Eustacia. As a rule, the wordBudmouth meant fascination on Egdon. That Royal port and wateringplace, if truly mirrored in the minds of the heath-folk, must havecombined, in a charming and indescribable manner, a Carthaginianbustle of building with Tarentine luxuriousness and Baian health andbeauty. Eustacia felt little less extravagantly about the place; butshe would not sink her independence to get there.
When Diggory Venn had gone quite away, Eustacia walked to the bank andlooked down the wild and picturesque vale towards the sun, which wasalso in the direction of Wildeve's. The mist had now so far collapsedthat the tips of the trees and bushes around his house could just bediscerned, as if boring upwards through a vast white cobweb whichcloaked them from the day. There was no doubt that her mind wasinclined thitherward; indefinitely, fancifully--twining and untwiningabout him as the single object within her horizon on which dreamsmight crystallize. The man who had begun by being merely heramusement, and would never have been more than her hobby but for hisskill in deserting her at the right moments, was now again her desire.Cessation in his love-making had revivified her love. Such feelingas Eustacia had idly given to Wildeve was dammed into a flood byThomasin. She had used to tease Wildeve, but that was before anotherhad favoured him. Often a drop of irony into an indifferent situationrenders the whole piquant.
"I will never give him up--never!" she said impetuously.
The reddleman's hint that rumour might show her to disadvantage hadno permanent terror for Eustacia. She was as unconcerned at thatcontingency as a goddess at a lack of linen. This did not originatein inh
erent shamelessness, but in her living too far from the world tofeel the impact of public opinion. Zenobia in the desert could hardlyhave cared what was said about her at Rome. As far as social ethicswere concerned Eustacia approached the savage state, though in emotionshe was all the while an epicure. She had advanced to the secretrecesses of sensuousness, yet had hardly crossed the threshold ofconventionality.