by Thomas Hardy
VI
When his nap had naturally exhausted itself Swithin awoke. He awokewithout any surprise, for he not unfrequently gave to sleep in the day-time what he had stolen from it in the night watches. The first objectthat met his eyes was the parcel on the table, and, seeing his nameinscribed thereon, he made no scruple to open it.
The sun flashed upon a lens of surprising magnitude, polished to such asmoothness that the eye could scarcely meet its reflections. Here was acrystal in whose depths were to be seen more wonders than had beenrevealed by the crystals of all the Cagliostros.
Swithin, hot with joyousness, took this treasure to his telescopemanufactory at the homestead; then he started off for the Great House.
On gaining its precincts he felt shy of calling, never having receivedany hint or permission to do so; while Lady Constantine's mysteriousmanner of leaving the parcel seemed to demand a like mysteriousness inhis approaches to her. All the afternoon he lingered about uncertainly,in the hope of intercepting her on her return from a drive, occasionallywalking with an indifferent lounge across glades commanded by thewindows, that if she were in-doors she might know he was near. But shedid not show herself during the daylight. Still impressed by her playfulsecrecy he carried on the same idea after dark, by returning to the houseand passing through the garden door on to the lawn front, where he sat onthe parapet that breasted the terrace.
Now she frequently came out here for a melancholy saunter after dinner,and to-night was such an occasion. Swithin went forward, and met her atnearly the spot where he had dropped the lens some nights earlier.
'I have come to see you, Lady Constantine. How did the glass get on mytable?'
She laughed as lightly as a girl; that he had come to her in this way wasplainly no offence thus far.
'Perhaps it was dropped from the clouds by a bird,' she said.
'Why should you be so good to me?' he cried.
'One good turn deserves another,' answered she.
'Dear Lady Constantine! Whatever discoveries result from this shall beascribed to you as much as to me. Where should I have been without yourgift?'
'You would possibly have accomplished your purpose just the same, andhave been so much the nobler for your struggle against ill-luck. I hopethat now you will be able to proceed with your large telescope as ifnothing had happened.'
'O yes, I will, certainly. I am afraid I showed too much feeling, thereverse of stoical, when the accident occurred. That was not very nobleof me.'
'There is nothing unnatural in such feeling at your age. When you areolder you will smile at such moods, and at the mishaps that gave rise tothem.'
'Ah, I perceive you think me weak in the extreme,' he said, with just ashade of pique. 'But you will never realize that an incident whichfilled but a degree in the circle of your thoughts covered the wholecircumference of mine. No person can see exactly what and whereanother's horizon is.'
They soon parted, and she re-entered the house, where she sat reflectingfor some time, till she seemed to fear that she had wounded his feelings.She awoke in the night, and thought and thought on the same thing, tillshe had worked herself into a feverish fret about it. When it wasmorning she looked across at the tower, and sitting down, impulsivelywrote the following note:--
'DEAR MR. ST. CLEEVE,--I cannot allow you to remain under the impression that I despised your scientific endeavours in speaking as I did last night. I think you were too sensitive to my remark. But perhaps you were agitated with the labours of the day, and I fear that watching so late at night must make you very weary. If I can help you again, please let me know. I never realized the grandeur of astronomy till you showed me how to do so. Also let me know about the new telescope. Come and see me at any time. After your great kindness in being my messenger I can never do enough for you. I wish you had a mother or sister, and pity your loneliness! I am lonely too.--Yours truly,
VIVIETTE CONSTANTINE.'
She was so anxious that he should get this letter the same day that sheran across to the column with it during the morning, preferring to be herown emissary in so curious a case. The door, as she had expected, waslocked; and, slipping the letter under it, she went home again. Duringlunch her ardour in the cause of Swithin's hurt feelings cooled down,till she exclaimed to herself, as she sat at her lonely table, 'Whatcould have possessed me to write in that way!'
After lunch she went faster to the tower than she had gone in the earlymorning, and peeped eagerly into the chink under the door. She coulddiscern no letter, and, on trying the latch, found that the door wouldopen. The letter was gone, Swithin having obviously arrived in theinterval.
She blushed a blush which seemed to say, 'I am getting foolishlyinterested in this young man.' She had, in short, in her own opinion,somewhat overstepped the bounds of dignity. Her instincts did not squarewell with the formalities of her existence, and she walked homedespondently.
Had a concert, bazaar, lecture, or Dorcas meeting required the patronageand support of Lady Constantine at this juncture, the circumstance wouldprobably have been sufficient to divert her mind from Swithin St. Cleeveand astronomy for some little time. But as none of these incidents werewithin the range of expectation--Welland House and parish lying far fromlarge towns and watering-places--the void in her outer life continued,and with it the void in her life within.
The youth had not answered her letter; neither had he called upon her inresponse to the invitation she had regretted, with the rest of theepistle, as being somewhat too warmly informal for black and white. Tospeak tenderly to him was one thing, to write another--that was herfeeling immediately after the event; but his counter-move of silence andavoidance, though probably the result of pure unconsciousness on hispart, completely dispersed such self-considerations now. Her eyes neverfell upon the Rings-Hill column without a solicitous wonder arising as towhat he was doing. A true woman, she would assume the remotestpossibility to be the most likely contingency, if the possibility had therecommendation of being tragical; and she now feared that something waswrong with Swithin St. Cleeve. Yet there was not the least doubt that hehad become so immersed in the business of the new telescope as to forgeteverything else.
On Sunday, between the services, she walked to Little Welland, chieflyfor the sake of giving a run to a house-dog, a large St. Bernard, of whomshe was fond. The distance was but short; and she returned along anarrow lane, divided from the river by a hedge, through whose leaflesstwigs the ripples flashed silver lights into her eyes. Here shediscovered Swithin, leaning over a gate, his eyes bent upon the stream.
The dog first attracted his attention then he heard her, and turnedround. She had never seen him looking so despondent.
'You have never called, though I invited you,' said Lady Constantine.
'My great telescope won't work!' he replied lugubriously.
'I am sorry for that. So it has made you quite forget me?'
'Ah, yes; you wrote me a very kind letter, which I ought to haveanswered. Well, I _did_ forget, Lady Constantine. My new telescopewon't work, and I don't know what to do about it at all!'
'Can I assist you any further?'
'No, I fear not. Besides, you have assisted me already.'
'What would really help you out of all your difficulties? Somethingwould, surely?'
He shook his head.
'There must be some solution to them?'
'O yes,' he replied, with a hypothetical gaze into the stream; '_some_solution of course--an equatorial, for instance.'
'What's that?'
'Briefly, an impossibility. It is a splendid instrument, with an objectlens of, say, eight or nine inches aperture, mounted with its axisparallel to the earth's axis, and fitted up with graduated circles fordenoting right ascensions and declinations; besides having special eye-pieces, a finder, and all sorts of appliances--clock-work to make thetelescope follow the motion in right ascension--I cannot tell you halfthe conveniences. Ah, an
equatorial is a thing indeed!'
'An equatorial is the one instrument required to make you quite happy?'
'Well, yes.'
'I'll see what I can do.'
'But, Lady Constantine,' cried the amazed astronomer, 'an equatorial suchas I describe costs as much as two grand pianos!'
She was rather staggered at this news; but she rallied gallantly, andsaid, 'Never mind. I'll make inquiries.'
'But it could not be put on the tower without people seeing it! It wouldhave to be fixed to the masonry. And there must be a dome of some kindto keep off the rain. A tarpaulin might do.'
Lady Constantine reflected. 'It would be a great business, I see,' shesaid. 'Though as far as the fixing and roofing go, I would of courseconsent to your doing what you liked with the old column. My workmencould fix it, could they not?'
'O yes. But what would Sir Blount say, if he came home and saw thegoings on?'
Lady Constantine turned aside to hide a sudden displacement of blood fromher cheek. 'Ah--my husband!' she whispered. . . . 'I am just now goingto church,' she added in a repressed and hurried tone. 'I will think ofthis matter.'
In church it was with Lady Constantine as with the Lord Angelo of Viennain a similar situation--Heaven had her empty words only, and herinvention heard not her tongue. She soon recovered from the momentaryconsternation into which she had fallen at Swithin's abrupt query. Thepossibility of that young astronomer becoming a renowned scientist by heraid was a thought which gave her secret pleasure. The course ofrendering him instant material help began to have a great fascination forher; it was a new and unexpected channel for her cribbed and confinedemotions. With experiences so much wider than his, Lady Constantine sawthat the chances were perhaps a million to one against Swithin St. Cleeveever being Astronomer Royal, or Astronomer Extraordinary of any sort; yetthe remaining chance in his favour was one of those possibilities which,to a woman of bounding intellect and venturesome fancy, are pleasanter todwell on than likely issues that have no savour of high speculation inthem. The equatorial question was a great one; and she had caught such alarge spark from his enthusiasm that she could think of nothing sopiquant as how to obtain the important instrument.
When Tabitha Lark arrived at the Great House next day, instead of findingLady Constantine in bed, as formerly, she discovered her in the library,poring over what astronomical works she had been able to unearth from theworm-eaten shelves. As these publications were, for a science of suchrapid development, somewhat venerable, there was not much help of apractical kind to be gained from them. Nevertheless, the equatorialretained a hold upon her fancy, till she became as eager to see one onthe Rings-Hill column as Swithin himself.
The upshot of it was that Lady Constantine sent a messenger that eveningto Welland Bottom, where the homestead of Swithin's grandmother wassituated, requesting the young man's presence at the house at twelveo'clock next day.
He hurriedly returned an obedient reply, and the promise was enough tolend great freshness to her manner next morning, instead of the leadenair which was too frequent with her before the sun reached the meridian,and sometimes after. Swithin had, in fact, arisen as an attractivelittle intervention between herself and despair.