Boldwood waited. In two minutes a light appeared in the pa.s.sage.
Boldwood then saw that the chain had been fastened across the door.
Troy appeared inside, carrying a bedroom candlestick.
"What, did you think I should break in?" said Boldwood, contemptuously.
"Oh, no, it is merely my humour to secure things. Will you read this a moment? I"ll hold the light."
Troy handed a folded newspaper through the slit between door and doorpost, and put the candle close. "That"s the paragraph," he said, placing his finger on a line.
Boldwood looked and read--
MARRIAGES.
On the 17th inst., at St. Ambrose"s Church, Bath, by the Rev. G. Mincing, B.A., Francis Troy, only son of the late Edward Troy, Esq., M.D., of Weatherbury, and sergeant with Dragoon Guards, to Bathsheba, only surviving daughter of the late Mr. John Everdene, of Casterbridge.
"This may be called Fort meeting Feeble, hey, Boldwood?" said Troy.
A low gurgle of derisive laughter followed the words.
The paper fell from Boldwood"s hands. Troy continued--
"Fifty pounds to marry f.a.n.n.y. Good. Twenty-one pounds not to marry f.a.n.n.y, but Bathsheba. Good. Finale: already Bathsheba"s husband.
Now, Boldwood, yours is the ridiculous fate which always attends interference between a man and his wife. And another word. Bad as I am, I am not such a villain as to make the marriage or misery of any woman a matter of huckster and sale. f.a.n.n.y has long ago left me. I don"t know where she is. I have searched everywhere. Another word yet. You say you love Bathsheba; yet on the merest apparent evidence you instantly believe in her dishonour. A fig for such love! Now that I"ve taught you a lesson, take your money back again."
"I will not; I will not!" said Boldwood, in a hiss.
"Anyhow I won"t have it," said Troy, contemptuously. He wrapped the packet of gold in the notes, and threw the whole into the road.
Boldwood shook his clenched fist at him. "You juggler of Satan! You black hound! But I"ll punish you yet; mark me, I"ll punish you yet!"
Another peal of laughter. Troy then closed the door, and locked himself in.
Throughout the whole of that night Boldwood"s dark form might have been seen walking about the hills and downs of Weatherbury like an unhappy Shade in the Mournful Fields by Acheron.
CHAPTER x.x.xV
AT AN UPPER WINDOW
It was very early the next morning--a time of sun and dew. The confused beginnings of many birds" songs spread into the healthy air, and the wan blue of the heaven was here and there coated with thin webs of incorporeal cloud which were of no effect in obscuring day.
All the lights in the scene were yellow as to colour, and all the shadows were attenuated as to form. The creeping plants about the old manor-house were bowed with rows of heavy water drops, which had upon objects behind them the effect of minute lenses of high magnifying power.
Just before the clock struck five Gabriel Oak and Coggan pa.s.sed the village cross, and went on together to the fields. They were yet barely in view of their mistress"s house, when Oak fancied he saw the opening of a cas.e.m.e.nt in one of the upper windows. The two men were at this moment partially screened by an elder bush, now beginning to be enriched with black bunches of fruit, and they paused before emerging from its shade.
A handsome man leaned idly from the lattice. He looked east and then west, in the manner of one who makes a first morning survey. The man was Sergeant Troy. His red jacket was loosely thrown on, but not b.u.t.toned, and he had altogether the relaxed bearing of a soldier taking his ease.
Coggan spoke first, looking quietly at the window.
"She has married him!" he said.
Gabriel had previously beheld the sight, and he now stood with his back turned, making no reply.
"I fancied we should know something to-day," continued Coggan. "I heard wheels pa.s.s my door just after dark--you were out somewhere."
He glanced round upon Gabriel. "Good heavens above us, Oak, how white your face is; you look like a corpse!"
"Do I?" said Oak, with a faint smile.
"Lean on the gate: I"ll wait a bit."
"All right, all right."
They stood by the gate awhile, Gabriel listlessly staring at the ground. His mind sped into the future, and saw there enacted in years of leisure the scenes of repentance that would ensue from this work of haste. That they were married he had instantly decided. Why had it been so mysteriously managed? It had become known that she had had a fearful journey to Bath, owing to her miscalculating the distance: that the horse had broken down, and that she had been more than two days getting there. It was not Bathsheba"s way to do things furtively. With all her faults, she was candour itself. Could she have been entrapped? The union was not only an unutterable grief to him: it amazed him, notwithstanding that he had pa.s.sed the preceding week in a suspicion that such might be the issue of Troy"s meeting her away from home. Her quiet return with Liddy had to some extent dispersed the dread. Just as that imperceptible motion which appears like stillness is infinitely divided in its properties from stillness itself, so had his hope undistinguishable from despair differed from despair indeed.
In a few minutes they moved on again towards the house. The sergeant still looked from the window.
"Morning, comrades!" he shouted, in a cheery voice, when they came up.
Coggan replied to the greeting. "Bain"t ye going to answer the man?"
he then said to Gabriel. "I"d say good morning--you needn"t spend a hapenny of meaning upon it, and yet keep the man civil."
Gabriel soon decided too that, since the deed was done, to put the best face upon the matter would be the greatest kindness to her he loved.
"Good morning, Sergeant Troy," he returned, in a ghastly voice.
"A rambling, gloomy house this," said Troy, smiling.
"Why--they MAY not be married!" suggested Coggan. "Perhaps she"s not there."
Gabriel shook his head. The soldier turned a little towards the east, and the sun kindled his scarlet coat to an orange glow.
"But it is a nice old house," responded Gabriel.
"Yes--I suppose so; but I feel like new wine in an old bottle here.
My notion is that sash-windows should be put throughout, and these old wainscoted walls brightened up a bit; or the oak cleared quite away, and the walls papered."
"It would be a pity, I think."
"Well, no. A philosopher once said in my hearing that the old builders, who worked when art was a living thing, had no respect for the work of builders who went before them, but pulled down and altered as they thought fit; and why shouldn"t we? "Creation and preservation don"t do well together," says he, "and a million of antiquarians can"t invent a style." My mind exactly. I am for making this place more modern, that we may be cheerful whilst we can."
The military man turned and surveyed the interior of the room, to a.s.sist his ideas of improvement in this direction. Gabriel and Coggan began to move on.
"Oh, Coggan," said Troy, as if inspired by a recollection "do you know if insanity has ever appeared in Mr. Boldwood"s family?"
Jan reflected for a moment.