said Mrs. Poyser. "I allays said that o" Judith, as she"d bear a pound weight any day to save anybody else carrying a ounce. And it made no difference in her, as I could see, when she took to the Methodists; only she talked a bit different, and wore a different sort o" cap. If you"d only come and live i" this country you might get married to some decent man, and there"d be plenty ready to have you, if you"d only leave off that preaching, as is ten times worse than anything your Aunt Judith ever did. And even if you"d marry Seth Bede, as is a poor, wool-gathering Methodist, and"s never like to have a penny beforehand, I know your uncle "ud help you with a pig, and very like a cow, for he"s allays been good-natur"d to my kin, for all they"re poor, and made "em welcome to the house; and "ud do for you, I"ll be bound, as much as ever he"d do for Hetty, though she"s his own niece."
The arrival of Mr. Irwine, the rector of Hayslope, and Captain Donnithorne, Squire Donnithorne"s grandson and heir, interrupted Mrs.
Poyser"s flow of talk.
"I"ll lay my life they"re come to speak about your preaching on the Green, Dinah. It"s you must answer "em, for I"m dumb. I"ve said enough a"ready about your bringing such disgrace upo" your uncle"s family. I wouldn"t ha" minded if you"d been Mr. Poyser"s own niece. Folks must put up wi" their own kin as they put up wi" their own noses; it"s their own flesh and blood."
Mr. Irwine, however, was the last man to feel any annoyance at the Methodist preaching, and young Arthur Donnithorne"s visit was merely an excuse for exchanging a few words with Hetty Sorrel.
The rector mentioned before he left that Thias Bede had been found drowned in the Willow Brook; and Dinah Morris at once decided that she might be of some comfort to the widow, and set out for the village.
As for Hetty Sorrel, she was thinking more of the looks Captain Donnithorne had cast at her than of Adam and his troubles. Bright, admiring glances from a handsome young gentleman--those were the warm rays that set poor Hetty"s heart vibrating.
Hetty was quite used to the thought that people liked to look at her.
She was aware that Mr. Craig, the gardener at Squire Donnithorne"s, was over head-and-ears in love with her. She knew still better that Adam Bede--tall, upright, clever, brave Adam Bede--who carried such authority with all the people round about, and whom her uncle was always delighted to see of an evening, saying that "Adam knew a fine sight more o" the natur o" things than those as thought themselves his betters"--she knew that this Adam, who was often rather stern to other people, and not much given to run after the la.s.sies, could be made to turn pale or red any day by a word or a look from her. Hetty"s sphere of comparison was not large, but she couldn"t help perceiving that Adam was "something like" a man; always knew what to say about things; knew, with only looking at it, the value of a chestnut-tree that was blown down, and why the damp came in the walls, and what they must do to stop the rats; and wrote a beautiful hand that you could read, and could do figures in his head--a degree of accomplishment totally unknown among the richest farmers of that country-side.
Hetty was quite certain her uncle wanted her to encourage Adam, and would be pleased for her to marry him. For the last three years--ever since he had superintended the building of the new barn--Adam had always been made welcome at the Hall Farm, and for the last two years at least Hetty had been in the habit of hearing her uncle say, "Adam Bede may be working for a wage now, but he"ll be a master-man some day, as sure as I sit in this chair. Master Burge is in the right on"t to want him to go partners and marry his daughter, if it"s true what they say. The woman as marries him "ull have a good take, be"t Lady Day or Michaelmas," a remark which Mrs. Poyser always followed up with her cordial a.s.sent.
"Ah," she would say, "it"s all very fine having a ready-made rich man, but may happen he"ll be a ready-made fool; and it"s no use filling your pocket full of money if you"ve got a hole in the corner. It"ll do you no good to sit in a spring-cart o" your own if you"ve got a soft to drive you; he"ll soon turn you over into the ditch."
But Hetty had never given Adam any steady encouragement. She liked to feel that this strong, keen-eyed man was in her power; but as to marrying Adam, that was a very different affair.
Hetty"s dreams were all of luxuries. She thought if Adam had been rich, and could have given the things of her dreams--large, beautiful earrings and Nottingham lace and a carpeted parlour--she loved him well enough to marry him.
The last few weeks a new influence had come over Hetty; she had become aware that Mr. Arthur Donnithorne would take a good deal of trouble for the chance of seeing her. And Dinah Morris was away, preaching and working in a manufacturing town.
_III.--Adam"s First Love_
Adam Bede, like many other men, thought the signs of love for another were signs of love towards himself. The time had come to him that summer, as he helped Hetty pick currants in the orchard of the Hall Farm, that a man can least forget in after-life--the time when he believes that the first woman he has ever loved is, at least, beginning to love him in return.
He was not wrong in thinking that a change had come over Hetty; the anxieties and fears of a first pa.s.sion with which she was trembling had become stronger than vanity, and while Adam drew near to her she was absorbed in thinking and wondering about Arthur Donnithorne"s possible return.
For the first time Hetty felt that there was something soothing to her in Adam"s timid yet manly tenderness; she wanted to be treated lovingly.
And Arthur was away from home; and, oh, it was very hard to bear the blank of absence. She was not afraid that Adam would tease her with love-making and flattering speeches; he had always been so reserved to her. She could enjoy without any fear the sense that this strong, brave man loved her and was near her. It never entered into her mind that Adam was pitiable, too, that Adam, too, must suffer one day.
It was from Adam that she found out that Captain Donnithorne would be back in a day or two, and this knowledge made her the more kindly disposed towards him. But for all the world Adam would not have spoken of his love to Hetty yet, till this commencing kindness towards him should have grown into unmistakable love. He did no more than pluck a rose for her, and walk back to the farm with her arm in his.
When Adam, after stopping a while to chat with the Poysers, had said good-night, Mr. Poyser remarked, "If you can catch Adam for a husband, Hetty, you"ll ride i" your own spring-cart some day, I"ll be your warrant."
Her uncle did not see the little toss of the head with which Hetty answered him. To ride in a spring-cart seemed a very miserable lot indeed to her now.
It was on August 18, when Adam, going home from some work he had been doing at one of the farms, pa.s.sed through a grove of beeches, and saw, at the end of the avenue, about twenty yards before him, two figures.
They were standing opposite to each other with clasped hands, and they separated with a start at a sharp bark from Adam Bede"s dog. One hurried away through a gate out of the grove; the other, Arthur Donnithorne, looking flushed and excited, sauntered towards Adam. The young squire had been home for some weeks celebrating his twenty-first birthday, and he was leaving on the morrow to rejoin his regiment.
Hitherto there had been a cordial and sincere liking and a mutual esteem between the two young men; but now Adam stood as if petrified, and his amazement turned quickly to fierceness.
Arthur tried to pa.s.s the matter off lightly, as if it had been a chance meeting with Hetty; but Adam, who felt that he had been robbed treacherously by the man in whom he had trusted, would not so easily let him off. It came to blows, and Arthur sank under a well-planted blow of Adam"s, as a steel rod is broken by an iron bar.
Before they separated, Arthur promised that he would write and tell Hetty there could be no further communication between them. And this promise he kept. Adam rested content with the a.s.surance that nothing but an innocent flirtation had been stopped. As the days went by he found that the calm patience with which he had waited for Hetty"s love had forsaken him since that night in the beech-grove. The agitations of jealousy had given a new restlessness to his pa.s.sion.
Hetty, for her part, after the first misery caused by Arthur"s letter, had turned into a mood of dull despair, and sought only for change. Why should she not marry Adam? She did not care what she did so that it made some change in her life.
So, in November, when Mr. Burge offered Adam a share in his business, Adam not only accepted it, but decided that the time had come to ask Hetty to marry him.
Hetty did not speak when Adam got out the question, but his face was very close to hers, and she put up her round cheek against his, like a kitten. She wanted to be caressed--she wanted to feel as if Arthur were with her again.
Adam only said after that, "I may tell your uncle and aunt, mayn"t I, Hetty?" And she said "Yes."
The red firelight on the hearth at the Hall Farm shone on joyful faces that evening when Adam took the opportunity of telling Mr. and Mrs.
Poyser that he saw his way to maintaining a wife now, and that Hetty had consented to have him.
There was a great deal of discussion before Adam went away about the possibility of his finding a house that would do for him to settle in.
"Well, well," said Mr. Poyser at last, "we needna fix everything to-night. You canna think o" getting married afore Easter. I"m not for long courtships, but there must be a bit o" time to make things comfortable."
This was in November.
Then in February came the full tragedy of Hetty Sorrel"s life. She left home, and in a strange village, a child--Arthur Donnithorne"s child--was born. Hetty left the baby in a wood, and returned to find it dead.
Arrest and trial followed, and only at the last moment was the capital sentence commuted to transportation.
She died a few years later on her way home.
_IV.--The Wife of Adam Bede_
It was the autumn of 1801, and Dinah Morris was once more at the Hall Farm, only to leave it again for her work in the town. Mrs. Poyser noticed that Dinah, who never used to change colour, flushed when Adam said, "Why, I hoped Dinah was settled among us for life. I thought she"d given up the notion o" going back to her old country."
"Thought! Yes," said Mrs. Poyser; "and so would anybody else ha" thought as had got their right ends up"ards. But I suppose you must be a Methodist to know what a Methodist "ull do. It"s all guessing what the bats are flying after."
"Why, what have we done to you, Dinah, as you must go away from us?"
said Mr. Poyser. "It"s like breaking your word; for your aunt never had no thought but you"d make this your home."
"Nay, uncle," said Dinah, trying to be quite calm. "When I first came I said it was only for a time, as long as I could be of any comfort to my aunt."
"Well, an" who said you"d ever left off being a comfort to me?" said Mrs. Poyser. "If you didna mean to stay wi" me, you"d better never ha"
come. Them as ha" never had a cushion don"t miss it."
Dinah set off with Adam, for Lisbeth was ailing and wanted Dinah to sit with her a bit. On the way he reverted to her leaving the Hall Farm.
"You know best, Dinah, but if it had been ordered so that you could ha"
been my sister, and lived wi" us all our lives, I should ha" counted it the greatest blessing as could happen to us now."
Dinah made no answer, and they walked on in silence, until presently, crossing the stone stile, Adam saw her face, flushed, and with a look of suppressed agitation.
It struck him with surprise, and then he said, "I hope I"ve not hurt or displeased you by what I"ve said, Dinah; perhaps I was making too free.
I"ve no wish different from what you see to be best; and I"m satisfied for you to live thirty miles off if you think it right."
Poor Adam! Thus do men blunder.