by Thomas Hardy
X.
At ten o'clock they met in the same room, Paula appearing in a straw hathaving a bent-up brim lined with plaited silk, so that it surroundedher forehead like a nimbus; and Somerset armed with sketch-book,measuring-rod, and other apparatus of his craft.
'And Mr. Havill?' said the young man.
'I have not decided to employ him: if I do he shall go round with meindependently of you,' she replied rather brusquely.
Somerset was by no means sorry to hear this. His duty to Havill wasdone.
'And now,' she said, as they walked on together through the passages, 'Imust tell you that I am not a mediaevalist myself; and perhaps that's apity.'
'What are you?'
'I am Greek--that's why I don't wish to influence your design.'
Somerset, as they proceeded, pointed out where roofs had been andshould be again, where gables had been pulled down, and where floors hadvanished, showing her how to reconstruct their details from marks in thewalls, much as a comparative anatomist reconstructs an antediluvian fromfragmentary bones and teeth. She appeared to be interested, listenedattentively, but said little in reply. They were ultimately in a longnarrow passage, indifferently lighted, when Somerset, treading on aloose stone, felt a twinge of weakness in one knee, and knew in a momentthat it was the result of the twist given by his yesterday's fall. Hepaused, leaning against the wall.
'What is it?' said Paula, with a sudden timidity in her voice.
'I slipped down yesterday,' he said. 'It will be right in a moment.'
'I--can I help you?' said Paula. But she did not come near him; indeed,she withdrew a little. She looked up the passage, and down the passage,and became conscious that it was long and gloomy, and that nobody wasnear. A curious coy uneasiness seemed to take possession of her. Whethershe thought, for the first time, that she had made a mistake--that towander about the castle alone with him was compromising, or whetherit was the mere shy instinct of maidenhood, nobody knows; but she saidsuddenly, 'I will get something for you, and return in a few minutes.'
'Pray don't--it has quite passed!' he said, stepping out again.
But Paula had vanished. When she came back it was in the rear ofCharlotte De Stancy. Miss De Stancy had a tumbler in one hand, half fullof wine, which she offered him; Paula remaining in the background.
He took the glass, and, to satisfy his companions, drank a mouthful ortwo, though there was really nothing whatever the matter with him beyondthe slight ache above mentioned. Charlotte was going to retire, butPaula said, quite anxiously, 'You will stay with me, Charlotte, won'tyou? Surely you are interested in what I am doing?'
'What is it?' said Miss De Stancy.
'Planning how to mend and enlarge the castle. Tell Mr. Somerset what Iwant done in the quadrangle--you know quite well--and I will walk on.'
She walked on; but instead of talking on the subject as directed,Charlotte and Somerset followed chatting on indifferent matters. Theycame to an inner court and found Paula standing there.
She met Miss De Stancy with a smile. 'Did you explain?' she asked.
'I have not explained yet.' Paula seated herself on a stone bench, andCharlotte went on: 'Miss Power thought of making a Greek court of this.But she will not tell you so herself, because it seems such dreadfulanachronism.
'I said I would not tell any architect myself,' interposed Paulacorrectingly. 'I did not then know that he would be Mr. Somerset.'
'It is rather startling,' said Somerset.
'A Greek colonnade all round, you said, Paula,' continued her lessreticent companion. 'A peristyle you called it--you saw it in a book,don't you remember?--and then you were going to have a fountain in themiddle, and statues like those in the British Museum.'
'I did say so,' remarked Paula, pulling the leaves from a youngsycamore-tree that had sprung up between the joints of the paving.
From the spot where they sat they could see over the roofs the upperpart of the great tower wherein Somerset had met with his misadventure.The tower stood boldly up in the sun, and from one of the slits in thecorner something white waved in the breeze.
'What can that be?' said Charlotte. 'Is it the fluff of owls, or ahandkerchief?'
'It is my handkerchief,' Somerset answered. 'I fixed it there with astone to attract attention, and forgot to take it away.'
All three looked up at the handkerchief with interest. 'Why did you wantto attract attention?' said Paula.
'O, I fell into the turret; but I got out very easily.'
'O Paula,' said Charlotte, turning to her friend, 'that must be theplace where the man fell in, years ago, and was starved to death!'
'Starved to death?' said Paula.
'They say so. O Mr. Somerset, what an escape!' And Charlotte De Stancywalked away to a point from which she could get a better view of thetreacherous turret.
'Whom did you think to attract?' asked Paula, after a pause.
'I thought you might see it.'
'Me personally?' And, blushing faintly, her eyes rested upon him.
'I hoped for anybody. I thought of you,' said Somerset.
She did not continue. In a moment she arose and went across to MissDe Stancy. 'Don't YOU go falling down and becoming a skeleton,'she said--Somerset overheard the words, though Paula was unaware ofit--after which she clasped her fingers behind Charlotte's neck, andsmiled tenderly in her face.
It seemed to be quite unconsciously done, and Somerset thought it avery beautiful action. Presently Paula returned to him and said, 'Mr.Somerset, I think we have had enough architecture for to-day.'
The two women then wished him good-morning and went away. Somerset,feeling that he had now every reason for prowling about the castle,remained near the spot, endeavouring to evolve some plan ofprocedure for the project entertained by the beautiful owner of thoseweather-scathed walls. But for a long time the mental perspective of hisnew position so excited the emotional side of his nature that he couldnot concentrate it on feet and inches. As Paula's architect (supposingHavill not to be admitted as a competitor), he must of necessity be inconstant communication with her for a space of two or three years tocome; and particularly during the next few months. She, doubtless,cherished far too ambitious views of her career to feel any personalinterest in this enforced relationship with him; but he would be atliberty to feel what he chose: and to be the victim of an unrequitedpassion, while afforded such splendid opportunities of communion withthe one beloved, deprived that passion of its most deplorable features.Accessibility is a great point in matters of love, and perhaps of thetwo there is less misery in loving without return a goddess who is tobe seen and spoken to every day, than in having an affection tenderlyreciprocated by one always hopelessly removed.
With this view of having to spend a considerable time in theneighbourhood Somerset shifted his quarters that afternoon from thelittle inn at Sleeping-Green to a larger one at Markton. He requiredmore rooms in which to carry out Paula's instructions than the formerplace afforded, and a more central position. Having reached and dinedat Markton he found the evening tedious, and again strolled out in thedirection of the castle.
When he reached it the light was declining, and a solemn stillnessoverspread the pile. The great tower was in full view. That spot ofwhite which looked like a pigeon fluttering from the loophole was hishandkerchief, still hanging in the place where he had left it. Hiseyes yet lingered on the walls when he noticed, with surprise, that thehandkerchief suddenly vanished.
Believing that the breezes, though weak below, might have been strongenough at that height to blow it into the turret, and in no hurry to getoff the premises, he leisurely climbed up to find it, ascending bythe second staircase, crossing the roof, and going to the top of thetreacherous turret. The ladder by which he had escaped still stoodwithin it, and beside the ladder he beheld the dim outline of a woman,in a meditative attitude, holding his handkerchief in her hand.
Somerset softly withdrew. When he had reached the ground he looked up.A girlish form was standing
at the top of the tower looking over theparapet upon him--possibly not seeing him, for it was dark on the lawn.It was either Miss De Stancy or Paula; one of them had gone there alonefor his handkerchief and had remained awhile, pondering on his escape.But which? 'If I were not a faint-heart I should run all risk and wavemy hat or kiss my hand to her, whoever she is,' he thought. But he didnot do either.
So he lingered about silently in the shades, and then thought ofstrolling to his rooms at Markton. Just at leaving, as he passed underthe inhabited wing, whence one or two lights now blinked, he heard apiano, and a voice singing 'The Mistletoe Bough.' The song had probablybeen suggested to the romantic fancy of the singer by her visit to thescene of his captivity.