A Laodicean : A Story of To-day

by Thomas Hardy

  II.

  Meanwhile Paula was alone. Of anyone else it would have been said thatshe must be finding the afternoon rather dreary in the quaint hallsnot of her forefathers: but of Miss Power it was unsafe to predicate sosurely. She walked from room to room in a black velvet dress whichgave decision to her outline without depriving it of softness. Sheoccasionally clasped her hands behind her head and looked out of awindow; but she more particularly bent her footsteps up and down theLong Gallery, where she had caused a large fire of logs to be kindled,in her endeavour to extend cheerfulness somewhat beyond the precincts ofthe sitting-rooms.

  The fire glanced up on Paula, and Paula glanced down at the fire, and atthe gnarled beech fuel, and at the wood-lice which ran out from beneaththe bark to the extremity of the logs as the heat approached them. Thelow-down ruddy light spread over the dark floor like the setting sunover a moor, fluttering on the grotesque countenances of the brightandirons, and touching all the furniture on the underside.

  She now and then crossed to one of the deep embrasures of the windows,to decipher some sentence from a letter she held in her hand. Thedaylight would have been more than sufficient for any bystanderto discern that the capitals in that letter were of the peculiarsemi-gothic type affected at the time by Somerset and other youngarchitects of his school in their epistolary correspondence. She wasvery possibly thinking of him, even when not reading his letter, for theexpression of softness with which she perused the page was more or lesswith her when she appeared to examine other things.

  She walked about for a little time longer, then put away the letter,looked at the clock, and thence returned to the windows, straining hereyes over the landscape without, as she murmured, 'I wish Charlotte wasnot so long coming!'

  As Charlotte continued to keep away, Paula became less reasonable inher desires, and proceeded to wish that Somerset would arrive; then thatanybody would come; then, walking towards the portraits on the wall, sheflippantly asked one of those cavaliers to oblige her fancy for companyby stepping down from his frame. The temerity of the request led herto prudently withdraw it almost as soon as conceived: old paintings hadbeen said to play queer tricks in extreme cases, and the shadows thisafternoon were funereal enough for anything in the shape of revengeon an intruder who embodied the antagonistic modern spirit to such anextent as she. However, Paula still stood before the picture which hadattracted her; and this, by a coincidence common enough in fact,though scarcely credited in chronicles, happened to be that one ofthe seventeenth-century portraits of which De Stancy had studied theengraved copy at Myrtle Villa the same morning.

  Whilst she remained before the picture, wondering her favourite wonder,how would she feel if this and its accompanying canvases were picturesof her own ancestors, she was surprised by a light footstep upon thecarpet which covered part of the room, and turning quickly she beheldthe smiling little figure of Charlotte De Stancy.

  'What has made you so late?' said Paula. 'You are come to stay, ofcourse?'

  Charlotte said she had come to stay. 'But I have brought somebody withme!'

  'Ah--whom?'

  'My brother happened to be at home, and I have brought him.'

  Miss De Stancy's brother had been so continuously absent from home inIndia, or elsewhere, so little spoken of, and, when spoken of, so trulythough unconsciously represented as one whose interests lay whollyoutside this antiquated neighbourhood, that to Paula he had been a merenebulosity whom she had never distinctly outlined. To have him thuscohere into substance at a moment's notice lent him the novelty of a newcreation.

  'Is he in the drawing-room?' said Paula in a low voice.

  'No, he is here. He would follow me. I hope you will forgive him.'

  And then Paula saw emerge into the red beams of the dancing fire,from behind a half-drawn hanging which screened the door, the militarygentleman whose acquaintance the reader has already made.

  'You know the house, doubtless, Captain De Stancy?' said Paula, somewhatshyly, when he had been presented to her.

  'I have never seen the inside since I was three weeks old,' replied theartillery officer gracefully; 'and hence my recollections of it are notremarkably distinct. A year or two before I was born the entail was cutoff by my father and grandfather; so that I saw the venerable place onlyto lose it; at least, I believe that's the truth of the case. But myknowledge of the transaction is not profound, and it is a delicate pointon which to question one's father.'

  Paula assented, and looked at the interesting and noble figure of theman whose parents had seemingly righted themselves at the expense ofwronging him.

  'The pictures and furniture were sold about the same time, I think?'said Charlotte.

  'Yes,' murmured De Stancy. 'They went in a mad bargain of my father withhis visitor, as they sat over their wine. My father sat down as host onthat occasion, and arose as guest.'

  He seemed to speak with such a courteous absence of regret for thealienation, that Paula, who was always fearing that the recollectionwould rise as a painful shadow between herself and the De Stancys, feltreassured by his magnanimity.

  De Stancy looked with interest round the gallery; seeing which Paulasaid she would have lights brought in a moment.

  'No, please not,' said De Stancy. 'The room and ourselves are of so muchmore interesting a colour by this light!'

  As they moved hither and thither, the various expressions of De Stancy'sface made themselves picturesquely visible in the unsteady shine of theblaze. In a short time he had drawn near to the painting of the ancestorwhom he so greatly resembled. When her quick eye noted the speck onthe face, indicative of inherited traits strongly pronounced, a new andromantic feeling that the De Stancys had stretched out a tentacle fromtheir genealogical tree to seize her by the hand and draw her in totheir mass took possession of Paula. As has been said, the De Stancyswere a family on whom the hall-mark of membership was deeply stamped,and by the present light the representative under the portrait and therepresentative in the portrait seemed beings not far removed. Paula wascontinually starting from a reverie and speaking irrelevantly, as ifsuch reflections as those seized hold of her in spite of her naturalunconcern.

  When candles were brought in Captain De Stancy ardently contrived tomake the pictures the theme of conversation. From the nearest they wentto the next, whereupon Paula as hostess took up one of the candlesticksand held it aloft to light up the painting. The candlestick being talland heavy, De Stancy relieved her of it, and taking another candle inthe other hand, he imperceptibly slid into the position of exhibitorrather than spectator. Thus he walked in advance holding the two candleson high, his shadow forming a gigantic figure on the neighbouring wall,while he recited the particulars of family history pertaining to eachportrait, that he had learnt up with such eager persistence during theprevious four-and-twenty-hours. 'I have often wondered what could havebeen the history of this lady, but nobody has ever been able to tellme,' Paula observed, pointing to a Vandyck which represented a beautifulwoman wearing curls across her forehead, a square-cut bodice, and aheavy pearl necklace upon the smooth expanse of her neck.

  'I don't think anybody knows,' Charlotte said.

  'O yes,' replied her brother promptly, seeing with enthusiasm thatit was yet another opportunity for making capital of his acquiredknowledge, with which he felt himself as inconveniently crammed as acandidate for a government examination. 'That lady has been largelycelebrated under a fancy name, though she is comparatively littleknown by her own. Her parents were the chief ornaments of thealmost irreproachable court of Charles the First, and were not moredistinguished by their politeness and honour than by the affections andvirtues which constitute the great charm of private life.'

  The stock verbiage of the family memoir was somewhat apparent in thiseffusion; but it much impressed his listeners; and he went on topoint out that from the lady's necklace was suspended a heart-shapedportrait--that of the man who broke his heart by her persistent refusalto encourage his suit. De Stancy then led them a litt
le further, wherehung a portrait of the lover, one of his own family, who appeared infull panoply of plate mail, the pommel of his sword standing up underhis elbow. The gallant captain then related how this personage of hisline wooed the lady fruitlessly; how, after her marriage with another,she and her husband visited the parents of the disappointed lover, thethen occupiers of the castle; how, in a fit of desperation at thesight of her, he retired to his room, where he composed some passionateverses, which he wrote with his blood, and after directing them to herran himself through the body with his sword. Too late the lady's heartwas touched by his devotion; she was ever after a melancholy woman, andwore his portrait despite her husband's prohibition. 'This,' continuedDe Stancy, leading them through the doorway into the hall where thecoats of mail were arranged along the wall, and stopping opposite asuit which bore some resemblance to that of the portrait, 'this is hisarmour, as you will perceive by comparing it with the picture, and thisis the sword with which he did the rash deed.'

  'What unreasonable devotion!' said Paula practically. 'It was tooromantic of him. She was not worthy of such a sacrifice.'

  'He also is one whom they say you resemble a little in feature, Ithink,' said Charlotte.

  'Do they?' replied De Stancy. 'I wonder if it's true.' He set down thecandles, and asking the girls to withdraw for a moment, was inside theupper part of the suit of armour in incredibly quick time. Goingthen and placing himself in front of a low-hanging painting near theoriginal, so as to be enclosed by the frame while covering the figure,arranging the sword as in the one above, and setting the light that itmight fall in the right direction, he recalled them; when he put thequestion, 'Is the resemblance strong?'

  He looked so much like a man of bygone times that neither of themreplied, but remained curiously gazing at him. His modern andcomparatively sallow complexion, as seen through the open visor, lent anethereal ideality to his appearance which the time-stained countenanceof the original warrior totally lacked.

  At last Paula spoke, so stilly that she seemed a statue enunciating:'Are the verses known that he wrote with his blood?'

  'O yes, they have been carefully preserved.' Captain De Stancy, withtrue wooer's instinct, had committed some of them to memory that morningfrom the printed copy to be found in every well-ordered library. 'I fearI don't remember them all,' he said, 'but they begin in this way:--

  "From one that dyeth in his discontent, Dear Faire, receive this greeting to thee sent; And still as oft as it is read by thee, Then with some deep sad sigh remember mee!

  O 'twas my fortune's error to vow dutie, To one that bears defiance in her beautie! Sweete poyson, pretious wooe, infectious jewell-- Such is a Ladie that is faire and cruell.

  How well could I with ayre, camelion-like, Live happie, and still gazeing on thy cheeke, In which, forsaken man, methink I see How goodlie love doth threaten cares to mee.

  Why dost thou frowne thus on a kneelinge soule, Whose faults in love thou may'st as well controule?-- In love--but O, that word; that word I feare Is hateful still both to thy hart and eare!

  . . . . .

  Ladie, in breefe, my fate doth now intend The period of my daies to have an end: Waste not on me thy pittie, pretious Faire: Rest you in much content; I, in despaire!"'

  A solemn silence followed the close of the recital, which De Stancyimproved by turning the point of the sword to his breast, resting thepommel upon the floor, and saying:--

  'After writing that we may picture him turning this same sword in thissame way, and falling on it thus.' He inclined his body forward as hespoke.

  'Don't, Captain De Stancy, please don't!' cried Paula involuntarily.

  'No, don't show us any further, William!' said his sister. 'It is tootragic.'

  De Stancy put away the sword, himself rather excited--not, however, byhis own recital, but by the direct gaze of Paula at him.

  This Protean quality of De Stancy's, by means of which he could assumethe shape and situation of almost any ancestor at will, had impressedher, and he perceived it with a throb of fervour. But it had done nomore than impress her; for though in delivering the lines he had sofixed his look upon her as to suggest, to any maiden practised in thegame of the eyes, a present significance in the words, the idea of anysuch arriere-pensee had by no means commended itself to her soul.

  At this time a messenger from Markton barracks arrived at the castle andwished to speak to Captain De Stancy in the hall. Begging the two ladiesto excuse him for a moment, he went out.

  While De Stancy was talking in the twilight to the messenger at one endof the apartment, some other arrival was shown in by the side door, andin making his way after the conference across the hall to the room hehad previously quitted, De Stancy encountered the new-comer. There wasjust enough light to reveal the countenance to be Dare's; he bore aportfolio under his arm, and had begun to wear a moustache, in case thechief constable should meet him anywhere in his rambles, and be struckby his resemblance to the man in the studio.

  'What the devil are you doing here?' said Captain De Stancy, in tones hehad never used before to the young man.

  Dare started back in surprise, and naturally so. De Stancy, havingadopted a new system of living, and relinquished the meagre diet andenervating waters of his past years, was rapidly recovering tone. Hisvoice was firmer, his cheeks were less pallid; and above all he wasauthoritative towards his present companion, whose ingenuity in vampingup a being for his ambitious experiments seemed about to be rewarded,like Frankenstein's, by his discomfiture at the hands of his owncreature.

  'What the devil are you doing here, I say?' repeated De Stancy.

  'You can talk to me like that, after my working so hard to get you on inlife, and make a rising man of you!' expostulated Dare, as one who felthimself no longer the leader in this enterprise.

  'But,' said the captain less harshly, 'if you let them discover anyrelations between us here, you will ruin the fairest prospects man everhad!'

  'O, I like that, captain--when you owe all of it to me!'

  'That's too cool, Will.'

  'No; what I say is true. However, let that go. So now you are here on acall; but how are you going to get here often enough to win her beforethe other man comes back? If you don't see her every day--twice, threetimes a day--you will not capture her in the time.'

  'I must think of that,' said De Stancy.

  'There is only one way of being constantly here: you must come to copythe pictures or furniture, something in the way he did.'

  'I'll think of it,' muttered De Stancy hastily, as he heard the voicesof the ladies, whom he hastened to join as they were appearing at theother end of the room. His countenance was gloomy as he recrossedthe hall, for Dare's words on the shortness of his opportunities hadimpressed him. Almost at once he uttered a hope to Paula that he mighthave further chance of studying, and if possible of copying, some of theancestral faces with which the building abounded.

  Meanwhile Dare had come forward with his portfolio, which proved to befull of photographs. While Paula and Charlotte were examining them hesaid to De Stancy, as a stranger: 'Excuse my interruption, sir, but ifyou should think of copying any of the portraits, as you were statingjust now to the ladies, my patent photographic process is at yourservice, and is, I believe, the only one which would be effectual in thedim indoor lights.'

  'It is just what I was thinking of,' said De Stancy, now so far cooleddown from his irritation as to be quite ready to accept Dare's adroitlysuggested scheme.

  On application to Paula she immediately gave De Stancy permission tophotograph to any extent, and told Dare he might bring his instrumentsas soon as Captain De Stancy required them.

  'Don't stare at her in such a brazen way!' whispered the latter to theyoung man, when Paula had withdrawn a few steps. 'Say, "I shall highlyvalue the privilege of assisting Captain De Stancy in such a work."'

  Dare o
beyed, and before leaving De Stancy arranged to begin performingon his venerated forefathers the next morning, the youth so accidentallyengaged agreeing to be there at the same time to assist in the technicaloperations.