by Thomas Hardy
CHAPTER VII.
Kaleidoscopic dreams of a weird alchemist-surgeon, Grammer Oliver'sskeleton, and the face of Giles Winterborne, brought Grace Melbury tothe morning of the next day. It was fine. A north wind wasblowing--that not unacceptable compromise between the atmosphericcutlery of the eastern blast and the spongy gales of the west quarter.She looked from her window in the direction of the light of theprevious evening, and could just discern through the trees the shape ofthe surgeon's house. Somehow, in the broad, practical daylight, thatunknown and lonely gentleman seemed to be shorn of much of the interestwhich had invested his personality and pursuits in the hours ofdarkness, and as Grace's dressing proceeded he faded from her mind.
Meanwhile, Winterborne, though half assured of her father's favor, wasrendered a little restless by Miss Melbury's behavior. Despite his dryself-control, he could not help looking continually from his own doortowards the timber-merchant's, in the probability of somebody'semergence therefrom. His attention was at length justified by theappearance of two figures, that of Mr. Melbury himself, and Gracebeside him. They stepped out in a direction towards the densestquarter of the wood, and Winterborne walked contemplatively behindthem, till all three were soon under the trees.
Although the time of bare boughs had now set in, there were shelteredhollows amid the Hintock plantations and copses in which a more tardyleave-taking than on windy summits was the rule with the foliage. Thiscaused here and there an apparent mixture of the seasons; so that insome of the dells that they passed by holly-berries in full red werefound growing beside oak and hazel whose leaves were as yet not farremoved from green, and brambles whose verdure was rich and deep as inthe month of August. To Grace these well-known peculiarities were asan old painting restored.
Now could be beheld that change from the handsome to the curious whichthe features of a wood undergo at the ingress of the winter months.Angles were taking the place of curves, and reticulations ofsurfaces--a change constituting a sudden lapse from the ornate to theprimitive on Nature's canvas, and comparable to a retrogressive stepfrom the art of an advanced school of painting to that of the PacificIslander.
Winterborne followed, and kept his eye upon the two figures as theythreaded their way through these sylvan phenomena. Mr. Melbury's longlegs, and gaiters drawn in to the bone at the ankles, his slight stoop,his habit of getting lost in thought and arousing himself with anexclamation of "Hah!" accompanied with an upward jerk of the head,composed a personage recognizable by his neighbors as far as he couldbe seen. It seemed as if the squirrels and birds knew him. One of theformer would occasionally run from the path to hide behind the arm ofsome tree, which the little animal carefully edged round pari passuwith Melbury and his daughters movement onward, assuming a mock manner,as though he were saying, "Ho, ho; you are only a timber-merchant, andcarry no gun!"
They went noiselessly over mats of starry moss, rustled throughinterspersed tracts of leaves, skirted trunks with spreading roots,whose mossed rinds made them like hands wearing green gloves; elbowedold elms and ashes with great forks, in which stood pools of water thatoverflowed on rainy days, and ran down their stems in green cascades.On older trees still than these, huge lobes of fungi grew like lungs.Here, as everywhere, the Unfulfilled Intention, which makes life whatit is, was as obvious as it could be among the depraved crowds of acity slum. The leaf was deformed, the curve was crippled, the taperwas interrupted; the lichen eat the vigor of the stalk, and the ivyslowly strangled to death the promising sapling.
They dived amid beeches under which nothing grew, the younger boughsstill retaining their hectic leaves, that rustled in the breeze with asound almost metallic, like the sheet-iron foliage of the fabledJarnvid wood. Some flecks of white in Grace's drapery had enabledGiles to keep her and her father in view till this time; but now helost sight of them, and was obliged to follow by ear--no difficultmatter, for on the line of their course every wood-pigeon rose from itsperch with a continued clash, dashing its wings against the brancheswith wellnigh force enough to break every quill. By taking the trackof this noise he soon came to a stile.
Was it worth while to go farther? He examined the doughy soil at thefoot of the stile, and saw among the large sole-and-heel tracks animpression of a slighter kind from a boot that was obviously not local,for Winterborne knew all the cobblers' patterns in that district,because they were very few to know. The mud-picture was enough to makehim swing himself over and proceed.
The character of the woodland now changed. The bases of the smallertrees were nibbled bare by rabbits, and at divers points heaps offresh-made chips, and the newly-cut stool of a tree, stared whitethrough the undergrowth. There had been a large fall of timber thisyear, which explained the meaning of some sounds that soon reached him.
A voice was shouting intermittently in a sort of human bark, whichreminded Giles that there was a sale of trees and fagots that very day.Melbury would naturally be present. Thereupon Winterborne rememberedthat he himself wanted a few fagots, and entered upon the scene.
A large group of buyers stood round the auctioneer, or followed himwhen, between his pauses, he wandered on from one lot of plantationproduce to another, like some philosopher of the Peripatetic schooldelivering his lectures in the shady groves of the Lyceum. Hiscompanions were timber-dealers, yeomen, farmers, villagers, and others;mostly woodland men, who on that account could afford to be curious intheir walking-sticks, which consequently exhibited variousmonstrosities of vegetation, the chief being cork-screw shapes in blackand white thorn, brought to that pattern by the slow torture of anencircling woodbine during their growth, as the Chinese have been saidto mould human beings into grotesque toys by continued compression ininfancy. Two women, wearing men's jackets on their gowns, conducted inthe rear of the halting procession a pony-cart containing a tappedbarrel of beer, from which they drew and replenished horns that werehanded round, with bread-and-cheese from a basket.
The auctioneer adjusted himself to circumstances by using hiswalking-stick as a hammer, and knocked down the lot on any convenientobject that took his fancy, such as the crown of a little boy's head,or the shoulders of a by-stander who had no business there except totaste the brew; a proceeding which would have been deemed humorous butfor the air of stern rigidity which that auctioneer's face preserved,tending to show that the eccentricity was a result of that absence ofmind which is engendered by the press of affairs, and no freak of fancyat all.
Mr. Melbury stood slightly apart from the rest of the Peripatetics, andGrace beside him, clinging closely to his arm, her modern attirelooking almost odd where everything else was old-fashioned, andthrowing over the familiar garniture of the trees a homeliness thatseemed to demand improvement by the addition of a few contemporarynovelties also. Grace seemed to regard the selling with the interestwhich attaches to memories revived after an interval of obliviousness.
Winterborne went and stood close to them; the timber-merchant spoke,and continued his buying; Grace merely smiled. To justify his presencethere Winterborne began bidding for timber and fagots that he did notwant, pursuing the occupation in an abstracted mood, in which theauctioneer's voice seemed to become one of the natural sounds of thewoodland. A few flakes of snow descended, at the sight of which arobin, alarmed at these signs of imminent winter, and seeing that nooffence was meant by the human invasion, came and perched on the tip ofthe fagots that were being sold, and looked into the auctioneer's face,while waiting for some chance crumb from the bread-basket. Standing alittle behind Grace, Winterborne observed how one flake would saildownward and settle on a curl of her hair, and how another would chooseher shoulder, and another the edge of her bonnet, which took up so muchof his attention that his biddings proceeded incoherently; and when theauctioneer said, every now and then, with a nod towards him, "Yours,Mr. Winterborne," he had no idea whether he had bought fagots, poles,or logwood.
He regretted, with some causticity of humor, that her father shouldshow such inequalities of temperament as
to keep Grace tightly on hisarm to-day, when he had quite lately seemed anxious to recognize theirbetrothal as a fact. And thus musing, and joining in no conversationwith other buyers except when directly addressed, he followed theassemblage hither and thither till the end of the auction, when Gilesfor the first time realized what his purchases had been. Hundreds offagots, and divers lots of timber, had been set down to him, when allhe had required had been a few bundles of spray for his odd man RobertCreedle's use in baking and lighting fires.
Business being over, he turned to speak to the timber merchant. ButMelbury's manner was short and distant; and Grace, too, looked vexedand reproachful. Winterborne then discovered that he had beenunwittingly bidding against her father, and picking up his favoritelots in spite of him. With a very few words they left the spot andpursued their way homeward.
Giles was extremely sorry at what he had done, and remained standingunder the trees, all the other men having strayed silently away. Hesaw Melbury and his daughter pass down a glade without looking back.While they moved slowly through it a lady appeared on horseback in themiddle distance, the line of her progress converging upon that ofMelbury's. They met, Melbury took off his hat, and she reined in herhorse. A conversation was evidently in progress between Grace and herfather and this equestrian, in whom he was almost sure that herecognized Mrs. Charmond, less by her outline than by the livery of thegroom who had halted some yards off.
The interlocutors did not part till after a prolonged pause, duringwhich much seemed to be said. When Melbury and Grace resumed theirwalk it was with something of a lighter tread than before.
Winterborne then pursued his own course homeward. He was unwilling tolet coldness grow up between himself and the Melburys for any trivialreason, and in the evening he went to their house. On drawing near thegate his attention was attracted by the sight of one of the bedroomsblinking into a state of illumination. In it stood Grace lightingseveral candles, her right hand elevating the taper, her left hand onher bosom, her face thoughtfully fixed on each wick as it kindled, asif she saw in every flame's growth the rise of a life to maturity. Hewondered what such unusual brilliancy could mean to-night. On gettingin-doors he found her father and step-mother in a state of suppressedexcitement, which at first he could not comprehend.
"I am sorry about my biddings to-day," said Giles. "I don't know whatI was doing. I have come to say that any of the lots you may requireare yours."
"Oh, never mind--never mind," replied the timber-merchant, with aslight wave of his hand, "I have so much else to think of that I nearlyhad forgot it. Just now, too, there are matters of a different kindfrom trade to attend to, so don't let it concern ye."
As the timber-merchant spoke, as it were, down to him from a highermoral plane than his own, Giles turned to Mrs. Melbury.
"Grace is going to the House to-morrow," she said, quietly. "She islooking out her things now. I dare say she is wanting me this minuteto assist her." Thereupon Mrs. Melbury left the room.
Nothing is more remarkable than the independent personality of thetongue now and then. Mr. Melbury knew that his words had been a sortof boast. He decried boasting, particularly to Giles; yet whenever thesubject was Grace, his judgment resigned the ministry of speech inspite of him.
Winterborne felt surprise, pleasure, and also a little apprehension atthe news. He repeated Mrs. Melbury's words.
"Yes," said paternal pride, not sorry to have dragged out of him whathe could not in any circumstances have kept in. "Coming home from thewoods this afternoon we met Mrs. Charmond out for a ride. She spoke tome on a little matter of business, and then got acquainted with Grace.'Twas wonderful how she took to Grace in a few minutes; thatfreemasonry of education made 'em close at once. Naturally enough shewas amazed that such an article--ha, ha!--could come out of my house.At last it led on to Mis'ess Grace being asked to the House. So she'sbusy hunting up her frills and furbelows to go in." As Giles remainedin thought without responding, Melbury continued: "But I'll call herdown-stairs."
"No, no; don't do that, since she's busy," said Winterborne.
Melbury, feeling from the young man's manner that his own talk had beentoo much at Giles and too little to him, repented at once. His facechanged, and he said, in lower tones, with an effort, "She's yours,Giles, as far as I am concerned."
"Thanks--my best thanks....But I think, since it is all right betweenus about the biddings, that I'll not interrupt her now. I'll stephomeward, and call another time."
On leaving the house he looked up at the bedroom again. Grace,surrounded by a sufficient number of candles to answer all purposes ofself-criticism, was standing before a cheval-glass that her father hadlately bought expressly for her use; she was bonneted, cloaked, andgloved, and glanced over her shoulder into the mirror, estimating heraspect. Her face was lit with the natural elation of a young girlhoping to inaugurate on the morrow an intimate acquaintance with a new,interesting, and powerful friend.