by Thomas Hardy
XII.
It was a fine afternoon of late summer, nearly three months subsequentto the death of Sir William De Stancy and Paula's engagement tomarry his successor in the title. George Somerset had started on aprofessional journey that took him through the charming district whichlay around Stancy Castle. Having resigned his appointment as architectto that important structure--a resignation which had been accepted byPaula through her solicitor--he had bidden farewell to the localityafter putting matters in such order that his successor, whoever he mightbe, should have no difficulty in obtaining the particulars necessaryto the completion of the work in hand. Hardly to his surprise thissuccessor was Havill.
Somerset's resignation had been tendered in no hasty mood. On returningto England, and in due course to the castle, everything bore in uponhis mind the exceeding sorrowfulness--he would not say humiliation--ofcontinuing to act in his former capacity for a woman who, from seemingmore than a dear friend, had become less than an acquaintance.
So he resigned; but now, as the train drew on into that once belovedtract of country, the images which met his eye threw him back in pointof emotion to very near where he had been before making himself astranger here. The train entered the cutting on whose brink he hadwalked when the carriage containing Paula and her friends surprised himthe previous summer. He looked out of the window: they were passing thewell-known curve that led up to the tunnel constructed by her father,into which he had gone when the train came by and Paula had been alarmedfor his life. There was the path they had both climbed afterwards,involuntarily seizing each other's hand; the bushes, the grass, theflowers, everything just the same:
'-----Here was the pleasant place, And nothing wanting was, save She, alas!'
When they came out of the tunnel at the other end he caught a glimpse ofthe distant castle-keep, and the well-remembered walls beneath it. Theexperience so far transcended the intensity of what is called mournfulpleasure as to make him wonder how he could have miscalculated himselfto the extent of supposing that he might pass the spot with controllableemotion.
On entering Markton station he withdrew into a remote corner of thecarriage, and closed his eyes with a resolve not to open them till theembittering scenes should be passed by. He had not long to wait forthis event. When again in motion his eye fell upon the skirt of a lady'sdress opposite, the owner of which had entered and seated herself sosoftly as not to attract his attention.
'Ah indeed!' he exclaimed as he looked up to her face. 'I had not anotion that it was you!' He went over and shook hands with Charlotte DeStancy.
'I am not going far,' she said; 'only to the next station. We often rundown in summer time. Are you going far?'
'I am going to a building further on; thence to Normandy by way ofCherbourg, to finish out my holiday.'
Miss De Stancy thought that would be very nice.
'Well, I hope so. But I fear it won't.'
After saying that Somerset asked himself why he should mince matterswith so genuine and sympathetic a girl as Charlotte De Stancy? She couldtell him particulars which he burned to know. He might never again havean opportunity of knowing them, since she and he would probably not meetfor years to come, if at all.
'Have the castle works progressed pretty rapidly under the newarchitect?' he accordingly asked.
'Yes,' said Charlotte in her haste--then adding that she was not quitesure if they had progressed so rapidly as before; blushingly correctingherself at this point and that, in the tinkering manner of a nervousorganization aiming at nicety where it was not required.
'Well, I should have liked to carry out the undertaking to its end,'said Somerset. 'But I felt I could not consistently do so. Miss Power--'(here a lump came into Somerset's throat--so responsive was he yet toher image)--'seemed to have lost confidence in me, and--it was best thatthe connection should be severed.'
There was a long pause. 'She was very sorry about it,' said Charlottegently.
'What made her alter so?--I never can think!'
Charlotte waited again as if to accumulate the necessary force forhonest speaking at the expense of pleasantness. 'It was the telegramthat began it of course,' she answered.
'Telegram?'
She looked up at him in quite a frightened way--little as there wasto be frightened at in a quiet fellow like him in this sad time of hislife--and said, 'Yes: some telegram--I think--when you were in trouble?Forgive my alluding to it; but you asked me the question.'
Somerset began reflecting on what messages he had sent Paula, troublousor otherwise. All he had sent had been sent from the castle, and wereas gentle and mellifluous as sentences well could be which had neitherarticles nor pronouns. 'I don't understand,' he said. 'Will you explaina little more--as plainly as you like--without minding my feelings?'
'A telegram from Nice, I think?'
'I never sent one.'
'O! The one I meant was about money.'
Somerset shook his head. 'No,' he murmured, with the composure of a manwho, knowing he had done nothing of the sort himself, was blinded by hisown honesty to the possibility that another might have done it for him.'That must be some other affair with which I had nothing to do. O no,it was nothing like that; the reason for her change of manner was quitedifferent!'
So timid was Charlotte in Somerset's presence, that her timidity at thisjuncture amounted to blameworthiness. The distressing scene whichmust have followed a clearing up there and then of any possiblemisunderstanding, terrified her imagination; and quite confounded bycontradictions that she could not reconcile, she held her tongue, andnervously looked out of the window.
'I have heard that Miss Power is soon to be married,' continuedSomerset.
'Yes,' Charlotte murmured. 'It is sooner than it ought to be by rights,considering how recently my dear father died; but there are reasons inconnection with my brother's position against putting it off: and it isto be absolutely simple and private.'
There was another interval. 'May I ask when it is to be?' he said.
'Almost at once--this week.'
Somerset started back as if some stone had hit his face.
Still there was nothing wonderful in such promptitude: engagementsbroken in upon by the death of a near relative of one of the parties hadbeen often carried out in a subdued form with no longer delay.
Charlotte's station was now at hand. She bade him farewell; and herattled on to the building he had come to inspect, and next to Budmouth,whence he intended to cross the Channel by steamboat that night.
He hardly knew how the evening passed away. He had taken up his quartersat an inn near the quay, and as the night drew on he stood gazing fromthe coffee-room window at the steamer outside, which nearly thrust itsspars through the bedroom casements, and at the goods that were beingtumbled on board as only shippers can tumble them. All the goods wereladen, a lamp was put on each side the gangway, the engines broke intoa crackling roar, and people began to enter. They were only waiting forthe last train: then they would be off. Still Somerset did not move;he was thinking of that curious half-told story of Charlotte's, abouta telegram to Paula for money from Nice. Not once till within the lasthalf-hour had it recurred to his mind that he had met Dare both at Niceand at Monte Carlo; that at the latter place he had been absolutely outof money and wished to borrow, showing considerable sinister feelingwhen Somerset declined to lend: that on one or two previous occasions hehad reasons for doubting Dare's probity; and that in spite of the youngman's impoverishment at Monte Carlo he had, a few days later, beheldhim in shining raiment at Carlsruhe. Somerset, though misty in hisconjectures, was seized with a growing conviction that there wassomething in Miss De Stancy's allusion to the telegram which ought to beexplained.
He felt an insurmountable objection to cross the water that night, ortill he had been able to see Charlotte again, and learn more of hermeaning. He countermanded the order to put his luggage on board, watchedthe steamer out of the harbour, and went to bed. He might as well havegone to battl
e, for any rest that he got. On rising the next morning hefelt rather blank, though none the less convinced that a matter requiredinvestigation. He left Budmouth by a morning train, and about eleveno'clock found himself in Markton.
The momentum of a practical inquiry took him through that ancientborough without leaving him much leisure for those reveries which hadyesterday lent an unutterable sadness to every object there. It was justbefore noon that he started for the castle, intending to arrive at atime of the morning when, as he knew from experience, he could speak toCharlotte without difficulty. The rising ground soon revealed the oldtowers to him, and, jutting out behind them, the scaffoldings for thenew wing.
While halting here on the knoll in some doubt about his movements hebeheld a man coming along the road, and was soon confronted by hisformer competitor, Havill. The first instinct of each was to pass with anod, but a second instinct for intercourse was sufficient to bring themto a halt. After a few superficial words had been spoken Somerset said,'You have succeeded me.'
'I have,' said Havill; 'but little to my advantage. I have just heardthat my commission is to extend no further than roofing in the wing thatyou began, and had I known that before, I would have seen the castlefall flat as Jericho before I would have accepted the superintendence.But I know who I have to thank for that--De Stancy.'
Somerset still looked towards the distant battlements. On thescaffolding, among the white-jacketed workmen, he could discern onefigure in a dark suit.
'You have a clerk of the works, I see,' he observed.
'Nominally I have, but practically I haven't.'
'Then why do you keep him?'
'I can't help myself. He is Mr. Dare; and having been recommended by ahigher power than I, there he must stay in spite of me.'
'Who recommended him?'
'The same--De Stancy.'
'It is very odd,' murmured Somerset, 'but that young man is the objectof my visit.'
'You had better leave him alone,' said Havill drily.
Somerset asked why.
'Since I call no man master over that way I will inform you.' Havillthen related in splenetic tones, to which Somerset did not care tolisten till the story began to advance itself, how he had passed thenight with Dare at the inn, and the incidents of that night, relatinghow he had seen some letters on the young man's breast which long hadpuzzled him. 'They were an E, a T, an N, and a C. I thought over themlong, till it eventually occurred to me that the word when filled outwas "De Stancy," and that kinship explains the offensive and defensivealliance between them.'
'But, good heavens, man!' said Somerset, more and more disturbed. 'Doesshe know of it?'
'You may depend she does not yet; but she will soon enough. Hark--thereit is!' The notes of the castle clock were heard striking noon. 'Then itis all over.'
'What?--not their marriage!'
'Yes. Didn't you know it was the wedding day? They were to be at thechurch at half-past eleven. I should have waited to see her go, but itwas no sight to hinder business for, as she was only going to drive overin her brougham with Miss De Stancy.'
'My errand has failed!' said Somerset, turning on his heel. 'I'll walkback to the town with you.'
However he did not walk far with Havill; society was too much at thatmoment. As soon as opportunity offered he branched from the road bya path, and avoiding the town went by railway to Budmouth, whence heresumed, by the night steamer, his journey to Normandy.