by Thomas Hardy
CHAPTER III: FANCY IN THE RAIN
The next scene is a tempestuous afternoon in the following month, andFancy Day is discovered walking from her father's home towards Mellstock.
A single vast gray cloud covered the country, from which the small rainand mist had just begun to blow down in wavy sheets, alternately thickand thin. The trees of the fields and plantations writhed like miserablemen as the air wound its way swiftly among them: the lowest portions oftheir trunks, that had hardly ever been known to move, were visiblyrocked by the fiercer gusts, distressing the mind by its painfulunwontedness, as when a strong man is seen to shed tears. Low-hangingboughs went up and down; high and erect boughs went to and fro; theblasts being so irregular, and divided into so many cross-currents, thatneighbouring branches of the same tree swept the skies in independentmotions, crossed each other, or became entangled. Across the open spacesflew flocks of green and yellowish leaves, which, after travelling a longdistance from their parent trees, reached the ground, and lay there withtheir under-sides upward.
As the rain and wind increased, and Fancy's bonnet-ribbons leapt more andmore snappishly against her chin, she paused on entering Mellstock Laneto consider her latitude, and the distance to a place of shelter. Thenearest house was Elizabeth Endorfield's, in Higher Mellstock, whosecottage and garden stood not far from the junction of that hamlet withthe road she followed. Fancy hastened onward, and in five minutesentered a gate, which shed upon her toes a flood of water-drops as sheopened it.
"Come in, chiel!" a voice exclaimed, before Fancy had knocked: apromptness that would have surprised her had she not known that Mrs.Endorfield was an exceedingly and exceptionally sharp woman in the use ofher eyes and ears.
Fancy went in and sat down. Elizabeth was paring potatoes for herhusband's supper.
Scrape, scrape, scrape; then a toss, and splash went a potato into abucket of water.
Now, as Fancy listlessly noted these proceedings of the dame, she beganto reconsider an old subject that lay uppermost in her heart. Since theinterview between her father and Dick, the days had been melancholy daysfor her. Geoffrey's firm opposition to the notion of Dick as a son-in-law was more than she had expected. She had frequently seen her loversince that time, it is true, and had loved him more for the oppositionthan she would have otherwise dreamt of doing--which was a happiness of acertain kind. Yet, though love is thus an end in itself, it must bebelieved to be the means to another end if it is to assume the rosy huesof an unalloyed pleasure. And such a belief Fancy and Dick wereemphatically denied just now.
Elizabeth Endorfield had a repute among women which was in its naturesomething between distinction and notoriety. It was founded on thefollowing items of character. She was shrewd and penetrating; her housestood in a lonely place; she never went to church; she wore a red cloak;she always retained her bonnet indoors and she had a pointed chin. Thusfar her attributes were distinctly Satanic; and those who looked nofurther called her, in plain terms, a witch. But she was not gaunt, norugly in the upper part of her face, nor particularly strange in manner;so that, when her more intimate acquaintances spoke of her the term wassoftened, and she became simply a Deep Body, who was as long-headed asshe was high. It may be stated that Elizabeth belonged to a class ofsuspects who were gradually losing their mysterious characteristics underthe administration of the young vicar; though, during the long reign ofMr. Grinham, the parish of Mellstock had proved extremely favourable tothe growth of witches.
While Fancy was revolving all this in her mind, and putting it to herselfwhether it was worth while to tell her troubles to Elizabeth, and ask heradvice in getting out of them, the witch spoke.
"You be down--proper down," she said suddenly, dropping another potatointo the bucket.
Fancy took no notice.
"About your young man."
Fancy reddened. Elizabeth seemed to be watching her thoughts. Really,one would almost think she must have the powers people ascribed to her.
"Father not in the humour for't, hey?" Another potato was finished andflung in. "Ah, I know about it. Little birds tell me things that peopledon't dream of my knowing."
Fancy was desperate about Dick, and here was a chance--O, such a wickedchance--of getting help; and what was goodness beside love!
"I wish you'd tell me how to put him in the humour for it?" she said.
"That I could soon do," said the witch quietly.
"Really? O, do; anyhow--I don't care--so that it is done! How could Ido it, Mrs. Endorfield?"
"Nothing so mighty wonderful in it."
"Well, but how?"
"By witchery, of course!" said Elizabeth.
"No!" said Fancy.
"'Tis, I assure ye. Didn't you ever hear I was a witch?"
"Well," hesitated Fancy, "I have heard you called so."
"And you believed it?"
"I can't say that I did exactly believe it, for 'tis very horrible andwicked; but, O, how I do wish it was possible for you to be one!"
"So I am. And I'll tell you how to bewitch your father to let you marryDick Dewy."
"Will it hurt him, poor thing?"
"Hurt who?"
"Father."
"No; the charm is worked by common sense, and the spell can only be brokeby your acting stupidly."
Fancy looked rather perplexed, and Elizabeth went on:
"This fear of Lizz--whatever 'tis-- By great and small; She makes pretence to common sense, And that's all.
"You must do it like this." The witch laid down her knife and potato,and then poured into Fancy's ear a long and detailed list of directions,glancing up from the corner of her eye into Fancy's face with anexpression of sinister humour. Fancy's face brightened, clouded, roseand sank, as the narrative proceeded. "There," said Elizabeth at length,stooping for the knife and another potato, "do that, and you'll have himby-long and by-late, my dear."
"And do it I will!" said Fancy.
She then turned her attention to the external world once more. The raincontinued as usual, but the wind had abated considerably during thediscourse. Judging that it was now possible to keep an umbrella erect,she pulled her hood again over her bonnet, bade the witch good-bye, andwent her way.