The Woodlanders

by Thomas Hardy

  CHAPTER XX.

  The leaves over Hintock grew denser in their substance, and thewoodland seemed to change from an open filigree to a solid opaque bodyof infinitely larger shape and importance. The boughs cast greenshades, which hurt the complexion of the girls who walked there; and afringe of them which overhung Mr. Melbury's garden dripped on hisseed-plots when it rained, pitting their surface all over as withpock-marks, till Melbury declared that gardens in such a place were nogood at all. The two trees that had creaked all the winter left offcreaking, the whir of the night-jar, however, forming a verysatisfactory continuation of uncanny music from that quarter. Exceptat mid-day the sun was not seen complete by the Hintock people, butrather in the form of numerous little stars staring through the leaves.

  Such an appearance it had on Midsummer Eve of this year, and as thehour grew later, and nine o'clock drew on, the irradiation of thedaytime became broken up by weird shadows and ghostly nooks ofindistinctness. Imagination could trace upon the trunks and boughsstrange faces and figures shaped by the dying lights; the surfaces ofthe holly-leaves would here and there shine like peeping eyes, whilesuch fragments of the sky as were visible between the trunks assumedthe aspect of sheeted forms and cloven tongues. This was before themoonrise. Later on, when that planet was getting command of the upperheaven, and consequently shining with an unbroken face into such openglades as there were in the neighborhood of the hamlet, it becameapparent that the margin of the wood which approached thetimber-merchant's premises was not to be left to the customarystillness of that reposeful time.

  Fitzpiers having heard a voice or voices, was looking over his gardengate--where he now looked more frequently than into his books--fancyingthat Grace might be abroad with some friends. He was now irretrievablycommitted in heart to Grace Melbury, though he was by no means surethat she was so far committed to him. That the Idea had for oncecompletely fulfilled itself in the objective substance--which he hadhitherto deemed an impossibility--he was enchanted enough to fancy mustbe the case at last. It was not Grace who had passed, however, butseveral of the ordinary village girls in a group--some steadilywalking, some in a mood of wild gayety. He quietly asked his landlady,who was also in the garden, what these girls were intending, and sheinformed him that it being Old Midsummer Eve, they were about toattempt some spell or enchantment which would afford them a glimpse oftheir future partners for life. She declared it to be an ungodlyperformance, and one which she for her part would never countenance;saying which, she entered her house and retired to bed.

  The young man lit a cigar and followed the bevy of maidens slowly upthe road. They had turned into the wood at an opening betweenMelbury's and Marty South's; but Fitzpiers could easily track them bytheir voices, low as they endeavored to keep their tones.

  In the mean time other inhabitants of Little Hintock had become awareof the nocturnal experiment about to be tried, and were also saunteringstealthily after the frisky maidens. Miss Melbury had been informed byMarty South during the day of the proposed peep into futurity, and,being only a girl like the rest, she was sufficiently interested towish to see the issue. The moon was so bright and the night so calmthat she had no difficulty in persuading Mrs. Melbury to accompany her;and thus, joined by Marty, these went onward in the same direction.

  Passing Winterborne's house, they heard a noise of hammering. Martyexplained it. This was the last night on which his paternal roof wouldshelter him, the days of grace since it fell into hand having expired;and Giles was taking down his cupboards and bedsteads with a view to anearly exit next morning. His encounter with Mrs. Charmond had cost himdearly.

  When they had proceeded a little farther Marty was joined by GrammerOliver (who was as young as the youngest in such matters), and Graceand Mrs. Melbury went on by themselves till they had arrived at thespot chosen by the village daughters, whose primary intention ofkeeping their expedition a secret had been quite defeated. Grace andher step-mother paused by a holly-tree; and at a little distance stoodFitzpiers under the shade of a young oak, intently observing Grace, whowas in the full rays of the moon.

  He watched her without speaking, and unperceived by any but Marty andGrammer, who had drawn up on the dark side of the same holly whichsheltered Mrs. and Miss Melbury on its bright side. The two formerconversed in low tones.

  "If they two come up in Wood next Midsummer Night they'll come as one,"said Grammer, signifying Fitzpiers and Grace. "Instead of myskellington he'll carry home her living carcass before long. But thoughshe's a lady in herself, and worthy of any such as he, it do seem to methat he ought to marry somebody more of the sort of Mrs. Charmond, andthat Miss Grace should make the best of Winterborne."

  Marty returned no comment; and at that minute the girls, some of whomwere from Great Hintock, were seen advancing to work the incantation,it being now about midnight.

  "Directly we see anything we'll run home as fast as we can," said one,whose courage had begun to fail her. To this the rest assented, notknowing that a dozen neighbors lurked in the bushes around.

  "I wish we had not thought of trying this," said another, "but hadcontented ourselves with the hole-digging to-morrow at twelve, andhearing our husbands' trades. It is too much like having dealings withthe Evil One to try to raise their forms."

  However, they had gone too far to recede, and slowly began to marchforward in a skirmishing line through the trees towards the deeperrecesses of the wood. As far as the listeners could gather, theparticular form of black-art to be practised on this occasion was oneconnected with the sowing of hemp-seed, a handful of which was carriedby each girl. At the moment of their advance they looked back, anddiscerned the figure of Miss Melbury, who, alone of all the observers,stood in the full face of the moonlight, deeply engrossed in theproceedings. By contrast with her life of late years they made herfeel as if she had receded a couple of centuries in the world'shistory. She was rendered doubly conspicuous by her light dress, andafter a few whispered words, one of the girls--a bouncing maiden,plighted to young Timothy Tangs--asked her if she would join in.Grace, with some excitement, said that she would, and moved on a littlein the rear of the rest.

  Soon the listeners could hear nothing of their proceedings beyond thefaintest occasional rustle of leaves. Grammer whispered again toMarty: "Why didn't ye go and try your luck with the rest of the maids?"

  "I don't believe in it," said Marty, shortly.

  "Why, half the parish is here--the silly hussies should have kept itquiet. I see Mr. Winterborne through the leaves, just come up withRobert Creedle. Marty, we ought to act the part o' Providencesometimes. Do go and tell him that if he stands just behind the bushat the bottom of the slope, Miss Grace must pass down it when she comesback, and she will most likely rush into his arms; for as soon as theclock strikes, they'll bundle back home--along like hares. I've seensuch larries before."

  "Do you think I'd better?" said Marty, reluctantly.

  "Oh yes, he'll bless ye for it."

  "I don't want that kind of blessing." But after a moment's thought shewent and delivered the information and Grammer had the satisfaction ofseeing Giles walk slowly to the bend in the leafy defile along whichGrace would have to return.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Melbury, deserted by Grace, had perceived Fitzpiers andWinterborne, and also the move of the latter. An improvement onGrammer's idea entered the mind of Mrs. Melbury, for she had latelydiscerned what her husband had not--that Grace was rapidly fascinatingthe surgeon. She therefore drew near to Fitzpiers.

  "You should be where Mr. Winterborne is standing," she said to him,significantly. "She will run down through that opening much fasterthan she went up it, if she is like the rest of the girls."

  Fitzpiers did not require to be told twice. He went across toWinterborne and stood beside him. Each knew the probable purpose ofthe other in standing there, and neither spoke, Fitzpiers scorning tolook upon Winterborne as a rival, and Winterborne adhering to theoff-hand manner of indifference which had grown upon him
since hisdismissal.

  Neither Grammer nor Marty South had seen the surgeon's manoeuvre, and,still to help Winterborne, as she supposed, the old woman suggested tothe wood-girl that she should walk forward at the heels of Grace, and"tole" her down the required way if she showed a tendency to run inanother direction. Poor Marty, always doomed to sacrifice desire toobligation, walked forward accordingly, and waited as a beacon, stilland silent, for the retreat of Grace and her giddy companions, nowquite out of hearing.

  The first sound to break the silence was the distant note of GreatHintock clock striking the significant hour. About a minute later thatquarter of the wood to which the girls had wandered resounded with theflapping of disturbed birds; then two or three hares and rabbitsbounded down the glade from the same direction, and after these therustling and crackling of leaves and dead twigs denoted the hurriedapproach of the adventurers, whose fluttering gowns soon becamevisible. Miss Melbury, having gone forward quite in the rear of therest, was one of the first to return, and the excitement beingcontagious, she ran laughing towards Marty, who still stood as ahand-post to guide her; then, passing on, she flew round the fatal bushwhere the undergrowth narrowed to a gorge. Marty arrived at her heelsjust in time to see the result. Fitzpiers had quickly stepped forwardin front of Winterborne, who, disdaining to shift his position, hadturned on his heel, and then the surgeon did what he would not havethought of doing but for Mrs. Melbury's encouragement and the sentimentof an eve which effaced conventionality. Stretching out his arms asthe white figure burst upon him, he captured her in a moment, as if shehad been a bird.

  "Oh!" cried Grace, in her fright.

  "You are in my arms, dearest," said Fitzpiers, "and I am going to claimyou, and keep you there all our two lives!"

  She rested on him like one utterly mastered, and it was several secondsbefore she recovered from this helplessness. Subdued screams andstruggles, audible from neighboring brakes, revealed that there hadbeen other lurkers thereabout for a similar purpose. Grace, unlikemost of these companions of hers, instead of gasping and writhing, saidin a trembling voice, "Mr. Fitzpiers, will you let me go?"

  "Certainly," he said, laughing; "as soon as you have recovered."

  She waited another few moments, then quietly and firmly pushed himaside, and glided on her path, the moon whitening her hot blush away.But it had been enough--new relations between them had begun.

  The case of the other girls was different, as has been said. Theywrestled and tittered, only escaping after a desperate struggle.Fitzpiers could hear these enactments still going on after Grace hadleft him, and he remained on the spot where he had caught her,Winterborne having gone away. On a sudden another girl came boundingdown the same descent that had been followed by Grace--a fine-framedyoung woman with naked arms. Seeing Fitzpiers standing there, shesaid, with playful effrontery, "May'st kiss me if 'canst catch me, Tim!"

  Fitzpiers recognized her as Suke Damson, a hoydenish damsel of thehamlet, who was plainly mistaking him for her lover. He wasimpulsively disposed to profit by her error, and as soon as she beganracing away he started in pursuit.

  On she went under the boughs, now in light, now in shade, looking overher shoulder at him every few moments and kissing her hand; but socunningly dodging about among the trees and moon-shades that she neverallowed him to get dangerously near her. Thus they ran and doubled,Fitzpiers warming with the chase, till the sound of their companionshad quite died away. He began to lose hope of ever overtaking her,when all at once, by way of encouragement, she turned to a fence inwhich there was a stile and leaped over it. Outside the scene was achanged one--a meadow, where the half-made hay lay about in heaps, inthe uninterrupted shine of the now high moon.

  Fitzpiers saw in a moment that, having taken to open ground, she hadplaced herself at his mercy, and he promptly vaulted over after her.She flitted a little way down the mead, when all at once her light formdisappeared as if it had sunk into the earth. She had buried herself inone of the hay-cocks.

  Fitzpiers, now thoroughly excited, was not going to let her escape himthus. He approached, and set about turning over the heaps one by one.As soon as he paused, tantalized and puzzled, he was directed anew byan imitative kiss which came from her hiding-place, and by snatches ofa local ballad in the smallest voice she could assume:

  "O come in from the foggy, foggy dew."

  In a minute or two he uncovered her.

  "Oh, 'tis not Tim!" said she, burying her face.

  Fitzpiers, however, disregarded her resistance by reason of itsmildness, stooped and imprinted the purposed kiss, then sunk down onthe next hay-cock, panting with his race.

  "Whom do you mean by Tim?" he asked, presently.

  "My young man, Tim Tangs," said she.

  "Now, honor bright, did you really think it was he?"

  "I did at first."

  "But you didn't at last?"

  "I didn't at last."

  "Do you much mind that it was not?"

  "No," she answered, slyly.

  Fitzpiers did not pursue his questioning. In the moonlight Suke lookedvery beautiful, the scratches and blemishes incidental to her out-dooroccupation being invisible under these pale rays. While they remainsilent the coarse whir of the eternal night-jar burst sarcasticallyfrom the top of a tree at the nearest corner of the wood. Besides thisnot a sound of any kind reached their ears, the time of nightingalesbeing now past, and Hintock lying at a distance of two miles at least.In the opposite direction the hay-field stretched away into remotenesstill it was lost to the eye in a soft mist.