Two on a Tower

by Thomas Hardy

  XXXIV

  Sunday morning came, and complicated her previous emotions by bringing anew and unexpected shock to mingle with them. The postman had deliveredamong other things an illustrated newspaper, sent by a hand she did notrecognize; and on opening the cover the sheet that met her eyes filledher with a horror which she could not express. The print was one whichdrew largely on its imagination for its engravings, and it alreadycontained an illustration of the death of Sir Blount Constantine. Inthis work of art he was represented as standing with his pistol to hismouth, his brains being in process of flying up to the roof of hischamber, and his native princess rushing terror-stricken away to a remoteposition in the thicket of palms which neighboured the dwelling.

  The crude realism of the picture, possibly harmless enough in its effectupon others, overpowered and sickened her. By a curious fascination shewould look at it again and again, till every line of the engraver'sperformance seemed really a transcript from what had happened before hiseyes. With such details fresh in her thoughts she was going out of thedoor to make arrangements for confirming, by repetition, her marriagewith another. No interval was available for serious reflection on thetragedy, or for allowing the softening effects of time to operate in hermind. It was as though her first husband had died that moment, and shewas keeping an appointment with another in the presence of his corpse.

  So revived was the actuality of Sir Blount's recent life and death bythis incident, that the distress of her personal relations with Swithinwas the single force in the world which could have coerced her intoabandoning to him the interval she would fain have set apart for gettingover these new and painful impressions. Self-pity for ill-usage affordedher good reasons for ceasing to love Sir Blount; but he was yet tooclosely intertwined with her past life to be destructible on the instantas a memory.

  But there was no choice of occasions for her now, and she steadily waitedfor the church bells to cease chiming. At last all was silent; thesurrounding cottagers had gathered themselves within the walls of theadjacent building. Tabitha Lark's first voluntary then droned from thetower window, and Lady Constantine left the garden in which she had beenloitering, and went towards Rings-Hill Speer.

  The sense of her situation obscured the morning prospect. The countrywas unusually silent under the intensifying sun, the songless season ofbirds having just set in. Choosing her path amid the efts that werebasking upon the outer slopes of the plantation she wound her way up thetree-shrouded camp to the wooden cabin in the centre.

  The door was ajar, but on entering she found the place empty. The towerdoor was also partly open; and listening at the foot of the stairs sheheard Swithin above, shifting the telescope and wheeling round therumbling dome, apparently in preparation for the next nocturnalreconnoitre. There was no doubt that he would descend in a minute or twoto look for her, and not wishing to interrupt him till he was ready shere-entered the cabin, where she patiently seated herself among the booksand papers that lay scattered about.

  She did as she had often done before when waiting there for him; that is,she occupied her moments in turning over the papers and examining theprogress of his labours. The notes were mostly astronomical, of course,and she had managed to keep sufficiently abreast of him to catch themeaning of a good many of these. The litter on the table, however, wassomewhat more marked this morning than usual, as if it had been hurriedlyoverhauled. Among the rest of the sheets lay an open note, and, in theentire confidence that existed between them, she glanced over and read itas a matter of course.

  It was a most business-like communication, and beyond the address anddate contained only the following words:--

  'DEAR SIR,--We beg leave to draw your attention to a letter we addressed to you on the 26th ult., to which we have not yet been favoured with a reply. As the time for payment of the first moiety of the six hundred pounds per annum settled on you by your late uncle is now at hand, we should be obliged by your giving directions as to where and in what manner the money is to be handed over to you, and shall also be glad to receive any other definite instructions from you with regard to the future.--We are, dear Sir, yours faithfully,

  HANNER AND RAWLES.'

  'SWITHIN ST. CLEEVE, Esq.'

  An income of six hundred a year for Swithin, whom she had hithertounderstood to be possessed of an annuity of eighty pounds at the outside,with no prospect of increasing the sum but by hard work! What could thiscommunication mean? He whose custom and delight it was to tell her allhis heart, had breathed not a syllable of this matter to her, though itmet the very difficulty towards which their discussions invariablytended--how to secure for him a competency that should enable him toestablish his pursuits on a wider basis, and throw himself into moredirect communion with the scientific world. Quite bewildered by the lackof any explanation she rose from her seat, and with the note in her handascended the winding tower-steps.

  Reaching the upper aperture she perceived him under the dome, movingmusingly about as if he had never been absent an hour, his light hairfrilling out from under the edge of his velvet skull-cap as it was alwayswont to do. No question of marriage seemed to be disturbing the mind ofthis juvenile husband of hers. The _primum mobile_ of his gravitationwas apparently the equatorial telescope which she had given him, andwhich he was carefully adjusting by means of screws and clamps. Hearingher movements he turned his head.

  'O here you are, my dear Viviette! I was just beginning to expect you,'he exclaimed, coming forward. 'I ought to have been looking out for you,but I have found a little defect here in the instrument, and I wanted toset it right before evening comes on. As a rule it is not a good thingto tinker your glasses; but I have found that the diffraction-rings arenot perfect circles. I learnt at Greenwich how to correct them--so kindthey have been to me there!--and so I have been loosening the screws andgently shifting the glass, till I think that I have at last made theillumination equal all round. I have so much to tell you about my visit;one thing is, that the astronomical world is getting quite excited aboutthe coming Transit of Venus. There is to be a regular expedition fittedout. How I should like to join it!'

  He spoke enthusiastically, and with eyes sparkling at the mental image ofthe said expedition and as it was rather gloomy in the dome he rolled itround on its axis, till the shuttered slit for the telescope directlyfaced the morning sun, which thereupon flooded the concave interior,touching the bright metal-work of the equatorial, and lighting up herpale, troubled face.

  'But Swithin!' she faltered; 'my letter to you--our marriage!'

  'O yes, this marriage question,' he added. 'I had not forgotten it, dearViviette--or at least only for a few minutes.'

  'Can you forget it, Swithin, for a moment? O how can you!' she saidreproachfully. 'It is such a distressing thing. It drives away all myrest!'

  'Forgotten is not the word I should have used,' he apologized.'Temporarily dismissed it from my mind, is all I meant. The simple factis, that the vastness of the field of astronomy reduces every terrestrialthing to atomic dimensions. Do not trouble, dearest. The remedy isquite easy, as I stated in my letter. We can now be married in a prosypublic way. Yes, early or late--next week, next month, six monthshence--just as you choose. Say the word when, and I will obey.'

  The absence of all anxiety or consternation from his face contrastedstrangely with hers, which at last he saw, and, looking at the writingshe held, inquired--

  'But what paper have you in your hand?'

  'A letter which to me is actually inexplicable,' said she, her curiosityreturning to the letter, and overriding for the instant her immediateconcerns. 'What does this income of six hundred a year mean? Why haveyou never told me about it, dear Swithin? or does it not refer to you?'

  He looked at the note, flushed slightly, and was absolutely unable tobegin his reply at once.

  'I did not mean you to see that, Viviette,' he murmured.

  'Why not?'

  'I thought you had better
not, as it does not concern me further now. Thesolicitors are labouring under a mistake in supposing that it does. Ihave to write at once and inform them that the annuity is not mine toreceive.'

  'What a strange mystery in your life!' she said, forcing a perplexedsmile. 'Something to balance the tragedy in mine. I am absolutely inthe dark as to your past history, it seems. And yet I had thought youtold me everything.'

  'I could not tell you that, Viviette, because it would have endangeredour relations--though not in the way you may suppose. You would havereproved me. You, who are so generous and noble, would have forbidden meto do what I did; and I was determined not to be forbidden.'

  'To do what?'

  'To marry you.'

  'Why should I have forbidden?'

  'Must I tell--what I would not?' he said, placing his hands upon herarms, and looking somewhat sadly at her. 'Well, perhaps as it has cometo this you ought to know all, since it can make no possible differenceto my intentions now. We are one for ever--legal blundersnotwithstanding; for happily they are quickly reparable--and thisquestion of a devise from my uncle Jocelyn only concerned me when I was asingle man.'

  Thereupon, with obviously no consideration of the possibilities that werereopened of the nullity of their marriage contract, he related in detail,and not without misgiving for having concealed them so long, the eventsthat had occurred on the morning of their wedding-day; how he had met thepostman on his way to Warborne after dressing in the cabin, and how hehad received from him the letter his dead uncle had confided to hisfamily lawyers, informing him of the annuity, and of the importantrequest attached--that he should remain unmarried until hisfive-and-twentieth year; how in comparison with the possession of herdear self he had reckoned the income as nought, abandoned all idea of itthere and then, and had come on to the wedding as if nothing had happenedto interrupt for a moment the working out of their plan; how he hadscarcely thought with any closeness of the circumstances of the casesince, until reminded of them by this note she had seen, and a previousone of a like sort received from the same solicitors.

  'O Swithin! Swithin!' she cried, bursting into tears as she realized itall, and sinking on the observing-chair; 'I have ruined you! yes, I haveruined you!'

  The young man was dismayed by her unexpected grief, and endeavoured tosoothe her; but she seemed touched by a poignant remorse which would notbe comforted.

  'And now,' she continued, as soon as she could speak, 'when you are oncemore free, and in a position--actually in a position to claim the annuitythat would be the making of you, I am compelled to come to you, andbeseech you to undo yourself again, merely to save me!'

  'Not to save you, Viviette, but to bless me. You do not ask me to re-marry; it is not a question of alternatives at all; it is my straightcourse. I do not dream of doing otherwise. I should be wretched if youthought for one moment I could entertain the idea of doing otherwise.'

  But the more he said the worse he made the matter. It was a state ofaffairs that would not bear discussion at all, and the unsophisticatedview he took of his course seemed to increase her responsibility.

  'Why did your uncle attach such a cruel condition to his bounty?' shecried bitterly. 'O, he little thinks how hard he hits me from thegrave--me, who have never done him wrong; and you, too! Swithin, are yousure that he makes that condition indispensable? Perhaps he meant thatyou should not marry beneath you; perhaps he did not mean to object insuch a case as your marrying (forgive me for saying it) a little aboveyou.'

  'There is no doubt that he did not contemplate a case which has led tosuch happiness as this has done,' the youth murmured with hesitation forthough he scarcely remembered a word of his uncle's letter of advice, hehad a dim apprehension that it was couched in terms alluding specificallyto Lady Constantine.

  'Are you sure you cannot retain the money, and be my lawful husband too?'she asked piteously. 'O, what a wrong I am doing you! I did not dreamthat it could be as bad as this. I knew I was wasting your time byletting you love me, and hampering your projects; but I thought therewere compensating advantages. This wrecking of your future at my hands Idid not contemplate. You are sure there is no escape? Have you hisletter with the conditions, or the will? Let me see the letter in whichhe expresses his wishes.'

  'I assure you it is all as I say,' he pensively returned. 'Even if Iwere not legally bound by the conditions I should be morally.'

  'But how does he put it? How does he justify himself in making such aharsh restriction? Do let me see the letter, Swithin. I shall think ita want of confidence if you do not. I may discover some way out of thedifficulty if you let me look at the papers. Eccentric wills can beevaded in all sorts of ways.'

  Still he hesitated. 'I would rather you did not see the papers,' hesaid.

  But she persisted as only a fond woman can. Her conviction was that shewho, as a woman many years his senior, should have shown her love for himby guiding him straight into the paths he aimed at, had blocked hisattempted career for her own happiness. This made her more intent thanever to find out a device by which, while she still retained him, hemight also retain the life-interest under his uncle's will.

  Her entreaties were at length too potent for his resistance. Accompanyingher downstairs to the cabin, he opened the desk from which the otherpapers had been taken, and against his better judgment handed her theominous communication of Jocelyn St. Cleeve which lay in the envelopejust as it had been received three-quarters of a year earlier.

  'Don't read it now,' he said. 'Don't spoil our meeting by entering intoa subject which is virtually past and done with. Take it with you, andlook it over at your leisure--merely as an old curiosity, remember, andnot as a still operative document. I have almost forgotten what thecontents are, beyond the general advice and stipulation that I was toremain a bachelor.'

  'At any rate,' she rejoined, 'do not reply to the note I have seen fromthe solicitors till I have read this also.'

  He promised. 'But now about our public wedding,' he said. 'Like certainroyal personages, we shall have had the religious rite and the civilcontract performed on independent occasions. Will you fix the day? Whenis it to be? and shall it take place at a registrar's office, since thereis no necessity for having the sacred part over again?'

  'I'll think,' replied she. 'I'll think it over.'

  'And let me know as soon as you can how you decide to proceed.'

  'I will write to-morrow, or come. I do not know what to say now. Icannot forget how I am wronging you. This is almost more than I canbear!'

  To divert her mind he began talking about Greenwich Observatory, and thegreat instruments therein, and how he had been received by theastronomers, and the details of the expedition to observe the Transit ofVenus, together with many other subjects of the sort, to which she hadnot power to lend her attention.

  'I must reach home before the people are out of church,' she at lengthsaid wearily. 'I wish nobody to know I have been out this morning.' Andforbidding Swithin to cross into the open in her company she left him onthe edge of the isolated plantation, which had latterly known her treadso well.