VII
The Morning and the Evening of a Day
The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearancesthat Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. A solemnstillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, and therewas no more animation indoors. Mrs. Yeobright, who had declined toattend the ceremony, sat by the breakfast table in the old room whichcommunicated immediately with the porch, her eyes listlessly directedtowards the open door. It was the room in which, six months earlier,the merry Christmas party had met, to which Eustacia came secretly andas a stranger. The only living thing that entered now was a sparrow;and seeing no movements to cause alarm, he hopped boldly round theroom, endeavoured to go out by the window, and fluttered among thepot-flowers. This roused the lonely sitter, who got up, releasedthe bird, and went to the door. She was expecting Thomasin, who hadwritten the night before to state that the time had come when shewould wish to have the money, and that she would if possible call thisday.
Yet Thomasin occupied Mrs. Yeobright's thoughts but slightly as shelooked up the valley of the heath, alive with butterflies, and withgrasshoppers whose husky noises on every side formed a whisperedchorus. A domestic drama, for which the preparations were now beingmade a mile or two off, was but little less vividly present to hereyes than if enacted before her. She tried to dismiss the vision, andwalked about the garden plot; but her eyes ever and anon sought outthe direction of the parish church to which Mistover belonged, andher excited fancy clove the hills which divided the building fromher eyes. The morning wore away. Eleven o'clock struck: could itbe that the wedding was then in progress? It must be so. She wenton imagining the scene at the church, which he had by this timeapproached with his bride. She pictured the little group of childrenby the gate as the pony-carriage drove up in which, as Thomasin hadlearnt, they were going to perform the short journey. Then she sawthem enter and proceed to the chancel and kneel; and the serviceseemed to go on.
She covered her face with her hands. "O, it is a mistake!" shegroaned. "And he will rue it some day, and think of me!"
While she remained thus, overcome by her forebodings, the old clockindoors whizzed forth twelve strokes. Soon after, faint sounds floatedto her ear from afar over the hills. The breeze came from thatquarter, and it had brought with it the notes of distant bells, gailystarting off in a peal: one, two, three, four, five. The ringers atEast Egdon were announcing the nuptials of Eustacia and her son.
"Then it is over," she murmured. "Well, well! and life too will beover soon. And why should I go on scalding my face like this? Cryabout one thing in life, cry about all; one thread runs through thewhole piece. And yet we say, 'a time to laugh!'"
Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. Yeobrighthad shown towards him that grim friendliness which at last arises inall such cases of undesired affinity. The vision of what ought tohave been is thrown aside in sheer weariness, and browbeaten humanendeavour listlessly makes the best of the fact that is. Wildeve, todo him justice, had behaved very courteously to his wife's aunt; andit was with no surprise that she saw him enter now.
"Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do," hereplied to her inquiry, which had been anxious, for she knew thather niece was badly in want of money. "The captain came down lastnight and personally pressed her to join them today. So, not to beunpleasant, she determined to go. They fetched her in the pony-chaise,and are going to bring her back."
"Then it is done," said Mrs. Yeobright. "Have they gone to their newhome?"
"I don't know. I have had no news from Mistover since Thomasin leftto go."
"You did not go with her?" said she, as if there might be good reasonswhy.
"I could not," said Wildeve, reddening slightly. "We could not bothleave the house; it was rather a busy morning, on account of AngleburyGreat Market. I believe you have something to give to Thomasin? Ifyou like, I will take it."
Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what thesomething was. "Did she tell you of this?" she inquired.
"Not particularly. She casually dropped a remark about havingarranged to fetch some article or other."
"It is hardly necessary to send it. She can have it whenever shechooses to come."
"That won't be yet. In the present state of her health she must notgo on walking so much as she has done." He added, with a faint twangof sarcasm, "What wonderful thing is it that I cannot be trusted totake?"
"Nothing worth troubling you with."
"One would think you doubted my honesty," he said, with a laugh,though his colour rose in a quick resentfulness frequent with him.
"You need think no such thing," said she drily. "It is simply thatI, in common with the rest of the world, feel that there are certainthings which had better be done by certain people than by others."
"As you like, as you like," said Wildeve laconically. "It is notworth arguing about. Well, I think I must turn homeward again, as theinn must not be left long in charge of the lad and the maid only."
He went his way, his farewell being scarcely so courteous as hisgreeting. But Mrs. Yeobright knew him thoroughly by this time, andtook little notice of his manner, good or bad.
When Wildeve was gone Mrs. Yeobright stood and considered what wouldbe the best course to adopt with regard to the guineas, which she hadnot liked to entrust to Wildeve. It was hardly credible that Thomasinhad told him to ask for them, when the necessity for them had arisenfrom the difficulty of obtaining money at his hands. At the same timeThomasin really wanted them, and might be unable to come to Blooms-Endfor another week at least. To take or send the money to her at theinn would be impolite, since Wildeve would pretty surely be present,or would discover the transaction; and if, as her aunt suspected, hetreated her less kindly than she deserved to be treated, he might thenget the whole sum out of her gentle hands. But on this particularevening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be conveyed toher there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon the whole theopportunity was worth taking advantage of.
Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no moreproper moment to render him his share of the money than the present.And the chance that would be afforded her, by sending him this gift,of showing how far she was from bearing him ill-will, cheered the sadmother's heart.
She went upstairs and took from a locked drawer a little box, out ofwhich she poured a hoard of broad unworn guineas that had lain theremany a year. There were a hundred in all, and she divided them intotwo heaps, fifty in each. Tying up these in small canvas bags, shewent down to the garden and called to Christian Cantle, who wasloitering about in hope of a supper which was not really owed him.Mrs. Yeobright gave him the moneybags, charged him to go to Mistover,and on no account to deliver them into any one's hands save her son'sand Thomasin's. On further thought she deemed it advisable to tellChristian precisely what the two bags contained, that he mightbe fully impressed with their importance. Christian pocketed themoney-bags, promised the greatest carefulness, and set out on his way.
"You need not hurry," said Mrs. Yeobright. "It will be better not toget there till after dusk, and then nobody will notice you. Come backhere to supper, if it is not too late."
It was nearly nine o'clock when he began to ascend the vale towardsMistover; but the long days of summer being at their climax, the firstobscurity of evening had only just begun to tan the landscape. Atthis point of his journey Christian heard voices, and found that theyproceeded from a company of men and women who were traversing a hollowahead of him, the tops only of their heads being visible.
He paused and thought of the money he carried. It was almost tooearly even for Christian seriously to fear robbery; nevertheless hetook a precaution which ever since his boyhood he had adopted wheneverhe carried more than two or three shillings upon his person--aprecaution somewhat like that of the owner of the Pitt Diamond whenfilled with similar misgivings. He took off his boots, untied theguineas, and emptied the contents of one little bag into the
rightboot, and of the other into the left, spreading them as flatly aspossible over the bottom of each, which was really a spacious cofferby no means limited to the size of the foot. Pulling them on againand lacing them to the very top, he proceeded on his way, more easyin his head than under his soles.
His path converged towards that of the noisy company, and on comingnearer he found to his relief that they were several Egdon people whomhe knew very well, while with them walked Fairway, of Blooms-End.
"What! Christian going too?" said Fairway as soon as he recognized thenewcomer. "You've got no young woman nor wife to your name to gie agown-piece to, I'm sure."
"What d'ye mean?" said Christian.
"Why, the raffle. The one we go to every year. Going to the raffleas well as ourselves?"
"Never knew a word o't. Is it like cudgel-playing or other sportfulforms of bloodshed? I don't want to go, thank you, Mister Fairway,and no offence."
"Christian don't know the fun o't, and 'twould be a fine sight forhim," said a buxom woman. "There's no danger at all, Christian.Every man puts in a shilling apiece, and one wins a gown-piece forhis wife or sweetheart if he's got one."
"Well, as that's not my fortune there's no meaning in it to me. But Ishould like to see the fun, if there's nothing of the black art in it,and if a man may look on without cost or getting into any dangerouswrangle?"
"There will be no uproar at all," said Timothy. "Sure, Christian, ifyou'd like to come we'll see there's no harm done."
"And no ba'dy gaieties, I suppose? You see, neighbours, if so, itwould be setting father a bad example, as he is so light moral'd. Buta gown-piece for a shilling, and no black art--'tis worth lookingin to see, and it wouldn't hinder me half an hour. Yes, I'll come,if you'll step a little way towards Mistover with me afterwards,supposing night should have closed in, and nobody else is going thatway?"
One or two promised; and Christian, diverging from his direct path,turned round to the right with his companions towards the Quiet Woman.
When they entered the large common room of the inn they foundassembled there about ten men from among the neighbouring population,and the group was increased by the new contingent to double thatnumber. Most of them were sitting round the room in seats divided bywooden elbows like those of crude cathedral stalls, which were carvedwith the initials of many an illustrious drunkard of former times whohad passed his days and his nights between them, and now lay as analcoholic cinder in the nearest churchyard. Among the cups on thelong table before the sitters lay an open parcel of light drapery--thegown-piece, as it was called--which was to be raffled for. Wildevewas standing with his back to the fireplace smoking a cigar; and thepromoter of the raffle, a packman from a distant town, was expatiatingupon the value of the fabric as material for a summer dress.
"Now, gentlemen," he continued, as the newcomers drew up to the table,"there's five have entered, and we want four more to make up thenumber. I think, by the faces of those gentlemen who have just comein, that they are shrewd enough to take advantage of this rareopportunity of beautifying their ladies at a very trifling expense."
Fairway, Sam, and another placed their shillings on the table, and theman turned to Christian.
"No, sir," said Christian, drawing back, with a quick gaze ofmisgiving. "I am only a poor chap come to look on, an it please ye,sir. I don't so much as know how you do it. If so be I was sure ofgetting it I would put down the shilling; but I couldn't otherwise."
"I think you might almost be sure," said the pedlar. "In fact, now Ilook into your face, even if I can't say you are sure to win, I cansay that I never saw anything look more like winning in my life."
"You'll anyhow have the same chance as the rest of us," said Sam.
"And the extra luck of being the last comer," said another.
"And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined thandrowned?" Christian added, beginning to give way.
Ultimately Christian laid down his shilling, the raffle began, andthe dice went round. When it came to Christian's turn he took the boxwith a trembling hand, shook it fearfully, and threw a pair-royal.Three of the others had thrown common low pairs, and all the rest merepoints.
"The gentleman looked like winning, as I said," observed the chapmanblandly. "Take it, sir; the article is yours."
"Haw-haw-haw!" said Fairway. "I'm damned if this isn't the quareststart that ever I knowed!"
"Mine?" asked Christian, with a vacant stare from his target eyes."I--I haven't got neither maid, wife, nor widder belonging to me atall, and I'm afeard it will make me laughed at to ha'e it, MasterTraveller. What with being curious to join in I never thought of that!What shall I do wi' a woman's clothes in my bedroom, and not lose mydecency!"
"Keep 'em, to be sure," said Fairway, "if it is only for luck.Perhaps 'twill tempt some woman that thy poor carcase had no powerover when standing empty-handed."
"Keep it, certainly," said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scenefrom a distance.
The table was then cleared of the articles, and the men began todrink.
"Well, to be sure!" said Christian, half to himself. "To think Ishould have been born so lucky as this, and not have found it outuntil now! What curious creatures these dice be--powerful rulers ofus all, and yet at my command! I am sure I never need be afeared ofanything after this." He handled the dice fondly one by one. "Why,sir," he said in a confidential whisper to Wildeve, who was near hisleft hand, "if I could only use this power that's in me of multiplyingmoney I might do some good to a near relation of yours, seeing whatI've got about me of hers--eh?" He tapped one of his money-laden bootsupon the floor.
"What do you mean?" said Wildeve.
"That's a secret. Well, I must be going now." He looked anxiouslytowards Fairway.
"Where are you going?" Wildeve asked.
"To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there--that's all."
"I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk together."
Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination cameinto his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright couldnot trust him with. "Yet she could trust this fellow," he said tohimself. "Why doesn't that which belongs to the wife belong to thehusband too?"
He called to the pot-boy to bring him his hat, and said, "Now,Christian, I am ready."
"Mr. Wildeve," said Christian timidly, as he turned to leave the room,"would you mind lending me them wonderful little things that carry myluck inside 'em, that I might practise a bit by myself, you know?" Helooked wistfully at the dice and box lying on the mantlepiece.
"Certainly," said Wildeve carelessly. "They were only cut out by somelad with his knife, and are worth nothing." And Christian went backand privately pocketed them.
Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm andcloudy. "By Gad! 'tis dark," he continued. "But I suppose we shallfind our way."
"If we should lose the path it might be awkward," said Christian. "Alantern is the only shield that will make it safe for us."
"Let's have a lantern by all means." The stable lantern was fetchedand lighted. Christian took up his gownpiece, and the two set out toascend the hill.
Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was for amoment drawn to the chimney-corner. This was large, and, in additionto its proper recess, contained within its jambs, like many onEgdon, a receding seat, so that a person might sit there absolutelyunobserved, provided there was no fire to light him up, as was thecase now and throughout the summer. From the niche a single objectprotruded into the light from the candles on the table. It was a claypipe, and its colour was reddish. The men had been attracted to thisobject by a voice behind the pipe asking for a light.
"Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!" saidFairway, handing a candle. "Oh--'tis the reddleman! You've kept aquiet tongue, young man."
"Yes, I had nothing to say," observed Venn. In a few minutes he aroseand wished the company good night.
Meanwhile Wild
eve and Christian had plunged into the heath.
It was a stagnant, warm, and misty night, full of all the heavyperfumes of new vegetation not yet dried by hot sun, and amongthese particularly the scent of the fern. The lantern, danglingfrom Christian's hand, brushed the feathery fronds in passing by,disturbing moths and other winged insects, which flew out and alightedupon its horny panes.
"So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?" said Christian'scompanion, after a silence. "Don't you think it very odd that itshouldn't be given to me?"
"As man and wife be one flesh, 'twould have been all the same, Ishould think," said Christian. "But my strict documents was, to givethe money into Mrs. Wildeve's hand--and 'tis well to do things right."
"No doubt," said Wildeve. Any person who had known the circumstancesmight have perceived that Wildeve was mortified by the discovery thatthe matter in transit was money, and not, as he had supposed when atBlooms-End, some fancy nick-nack which only interested the two womenthemselves. Mrs. Yeobright's refusal implied that his honour was notconsidered to be of sufficiently good quality to make him a saferbearer of his wife's property.
"How very warm it is tonight, Christian!" he said, panting, when theywere nearly under Rainbarrow. "Let us sit down for a few minutes, forHeaven's sake."
Wildeve flung himself down on the soft ferns; and Christian, placingthe lantern and parcel on the ground, perched himself in a crampedposition hard by, his knees almost touching his chin. He presentlythrust one hand into his coat-pocket and began shaking it about.
"What are you rattling in there?" said Wildeve.
"Only the dice, sir," said Christian, quickly withdrawing his hand."What magical machines these little things be, Mr. Wildeve! 'Tis agame I should never get tired of. Would you mind my taking 'em outand looking at 'em for a minute, to see how they are made? I didn'tlike to look close before the other men, for fear they should think itbad manners in me." Christian took them out and examined them in thehollow of his hand by the lantern light. "That these little thingsshould carry such luck, and such charm, and such a spell, and suchpower in 'em, passes all I ever heard or zeed," he went on, with afascinated gaze at the dice, which, as is frequently the case incountry places, were made of wood, the points being burnt upon eachface with the end of a wire.
"They are a great deal in a small compass, You think?"
"Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr.Wildeve? If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such a lucky man."
"You ought to win some money, now that you've got them. Any womanwould marry you then. Now is your time, Christian, and I wouldrecommend you not to let it slip. Some men are born to luck, some arenot. I belong to the latter class."
"Did you ever know anybody who was born to it besides myself?"
"O yes. I once heard of an Italian, who sat down at a gaming tablewith only a louis (that's a foreign sovereign) in his pocket. Heplayed on for twenty-four hours, and won ten thousand pounds,stripping the bank he had played against. Then there was another manwho had lost a thousand pounds, and went to the broker's next day tosell stock, that he might pay the debt. The man to whom he owed themoney went with him in a hackney-coach; and to pass the time theytossed who should pay the fare. The ruined man won, and the other wastempted to continue the game, and they played all the way. When thecoachman stopped he was told to drive home again: the whole thousandpounds had been won back by the man who was going to sell."
"Ha--ha--splendid!" exclaimed Christian. "Go on--go on!"
"Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White'sclubhouse. He began playing first half-crown stakes, and then higherand higher, till he became very rich, got an appointment in India,and rose to be Governor of Madras. His daughter married a member ofParliament, and the Bishop of Carlisle stood godfather to one of thechildren."
"Wonderful! wonderful!"
"And once there was a young man in America who gambled till he hadlost his last dollar. He staked his watch and chain, and lost asbefore; staked his umbrella, lost again; staked his hat, lost again;staked his coat and stood in his shirt-sleeve; lost again. Begantaking off his breeches, and then a looker-on gave him a trifle forhis pluck. With this he won. Won back his coat, won back his hat,won back his umbrella, his watch, his money, and went out of the doora rich man."
"Oh, 'tis too good--it takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I thinkI will try another shilling with you, as I am one of that sort; nodanger can come o't, and you can afford to lose."
"Very well," said Wildeve, rising. Searching about with the lantern,he found a large flat stone, which he placed between himself andChristian, and sat down again. The lantern was opened to give morelight, and it's rays directed upon the stone. Christian put downa shilling, Wildeve another, and each threw. Christian won. Theyplayed for two, Christian won again.
"Let us try four," said Wildeve. They played for four. This time thestakes were won by Wildeve.
"Ah, those little accidents will, of course, sometimes happen, to theluckiest man," he observed.
"And now I have no more money!" explained Christian excitedly. "Andyet, if I could go on, I should get it back again, and more. I wishthis was mine." He struck his boot upon the ground, so that theguineas chinked within.
"What! you have not put Mrs. Wildeve's money there?"
"Yes. 'Tis for safety. Is it any harm to raffle with a married lady'smoney when, if I win, I shall only keep my winnings, and give her herown all the same; and if t'other man wins, her money will go to thelawful owner?"
"None at all."
Wildeve had been brooding ever since they started on the meanestimation in which he was held by his wife's friends; and it cut hisheart severely. As the minutes passed he had gradually drifted into arevengeful intention without knowing the precise moment of forming it.This was to teach Mrs. Yeobright a lesson, as he considered it to be;in other words, to show her if he could, that her niece's husband wasthe proper guardian of her niece's money.
"Well, here goes!" said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. "Ishall dream of it nights and nights, I suppose; but I shall alwaysswear my flesh don't crawl when I think o't!"
He thrust his hand into the boot and withdrew one of poor Thomasin'sprecious guineas, piping hot. Wildeve had already placed a sovereignon the stone. The game was then resumed. Wildeve won first, andChristian ventured another, winning himself this time. The gamefluctuated, but the average was in Wildeve's favour. Both men becameso absorbed in the game that they took no heed of anything but thepigmy objects immediately beneath their eyes, the flat stone, the openlantern, the dice, and the few illuminated fern-leaves which lay underthe light, were the whole world to them.
At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, thewhole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin had been handed over to hisadversary.
"I don't care--I don't care!" he moaned, and desperately set aboutuntying his left boot to get at the other fifty. "The devil will tossme into the flames on his three-pronged fork for this night's work,I know! But perhaps I shall win yet, and then I'll get a wife to situp with me o' nights, and I won't be afeard, I won't! Here's anotherfor'ee, my man!" He slapped another guinea down upon the stone, andthe dice-box was rattled again.
Time passed on. Wildeve began to be as excited as Christian himself.When commencing the game his intention had been nothing further thana bitter practical joke on Mrs. Yeobright. To win the money, fairlyor otherwise, and to hand it contemptuously to Thomasin in her aunt'spresence, had been the dim outline of his purpose. But men are drawnfrom their intentions even in the course of carrying them out, andit was extremely doubtful, by the time the twentieth guinea had beenreached, whether Wildeve was conscious of any other intention thanthat of winning for his own personal benefit. Moreover, he was now nolonger gambling for his wife's money, but for Yeobright's; though ofthis fact Christian, in his apprehensiveness, did not inform him tillafterwards.
It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, Christianplaced Yeobright's
last gleaming guinea upon the stone. In thirtyseconds it had gone the way of its companions.
Christian turned and flung himself on the ferns in a convulsion ofremorse, "O, what shall I do with my wretched self?" he groaned."What shall I do? Will any good Heaven hae mercy upon my wickedsoul?"
"Do? Live on just the same."
"I won't live on just the same! I'll die! I say you are a--a--"
"A man sharper than my neighbour."
"Yes, a man sharper than my neighbour; a regular sharper!"
"Poor chips-in-porridge, you are very unmannerly."
"I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've gotmoney that isn't your own. Half the guineas are poor Mr. Clym's."
"How's that?"
"Because I had to gie fifty of 'em to him. Mrs. Yeobright said so."
"Oh?... Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have giventhem to his wife Eustacia. But they are in my hands now."
Christian pulled on his boots, and with heavy breathings, which couldbe heard to some distance, dragged his limbs together, arose, andtottered away out of sight. Wildeve set about shutting the lantern toreturn to the house, for he deemed it too late to go to Mistover tomeet his wife, who was to be driven home in the captain's four-wheel.While he was closing the little horn door a figure rose from behind aneighbouring bush and came forward into the lantern light. It was thereddleman approaching.