by Thomas Hardy
CHAPTER XIII
SORTES SANCTORUM--THE VALENTINE
It was Sunday afternoon in the farmhouse, on the thirteenth ofFebruary. Dinner being over, Bathsheba, for want of a bettercompanion, had asked Liddy to come and sit with her. The mouldy pilewas dreary in winter-time before the candles were lighted and theshutters closed; the atmosphere of the place seemed as old as thewalls; every nook behind the furniture had a temperature of its own,for the fire was not kindled in this part of the house early in theday; and Bathsheba's new piano, which was an old one in other annals,looked particularly sloping and out of level on the warped floorbefore night threw a shade over its less prominent angles and hidthe unpleasantness. Liddy, like a little brook, though shallow, wasalways rippling; her presence had not so much weight as to taskthought, and yet enough to exercise it.
On the table lay an old quarto Bible, bound in leather. Liddylooking at it said,--
"Did you ever find out, miss, who you are going to marry by means ofthe Bible and key?"
"Don't be so foolish, Liddy. As if such things could be."
"Well, there's a good deal in it, all the same."
"Nonsense, child."
"And it makes your heart beat fearful. Some believe in it; somedon't; I do."
"Very well, let's try it," said Bathsheba, bounding from her seatwith that total disregard of consistency which can be indulged intowards a dependent, and entering into the spirit of divination atonce. "Go and get the front door key."
Liddy fetched it. "I wish it wasn't Sunday," she said, on returning."Perhaps 'tis wrong."
"What's right week days is right Sundays," replied her mistress in atone which was a proof in itself.
The book was opened--the leaves, drab with age, being quite worn awayat much-read verses by the forefingers of unpractised readers informer days, where they were moved along under the line as an aid tothe vision. The special verse in the Book of Ruth was sought out byBathsheba, and the sublime words met her eye. They slightly thrilledand abashed her. It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in theconcrete. Folly in the concrete blushed, persisted in her intention,and placed the key on the book. A rusty patch immediately upon theverse, caused by previous pressure of an iron substance thereon, toldthat this was not the first time the old volume had been used for thepurpose.
"Now keep steady, and be silent," said Bathsheba.
The verse was repeated; the book turned round; Bathsheba blushedguiltily.
"Who did you try?" said Liddy curiously.
"I shall not tell you."
"Did you notice Mr. Boldwood's doings in church this morning, miss?"Liddy continued, adumbrating by the remark the track her thoughts hadtaken.
"No, indeed," said Bathsheba, with serene indifference.
"His pew is exactly opposite yours, miss."
"I know it."
"And you did not see his goings on!"
"Certainly I did not, I tell you."
Liddy assumed a smaller physiognomy, and shut her lips decisively.
This move was unexpected, and proportionately disconcerting. "Whatdid he do?" Bathsheba said perforce.
"Didn't turn his head to look at you once all the service."
"Why should he?" again demanded her mistress, wearing a nettled look."I didn't ask him to."
"Oh no. But everybody else was noticing you; and it was odd hedidn't. There, 'tis like him. Rich and gentlemanly, what does hecare?"
Bathsheba dropped into a silence intended to express that she hadopinions on the matter too abstruse for Liddy's comprehension, ratherthan that she had nothing to say.
"Dear me--I had nearly forgotten the valentine I bought yesterday,"she exclaimed at length.
"Valentine! who for, miss?" said Liddy. "Farmer Boldwood?"
It was the single name among all possible wrong ones that just atthis moment seemed to Bathsheba more pertinent than the right.
"Well, no. It is only for little Teddy Coggan. I have promised himsomething, and this will be a pretty surprise for him. Liddy, youmay as well bring me my desk and I'll direct it at once."
Bathsheba took from her desk a gorgeously illuminated and embosseddesign in post-octavo, which had been bought on the previousmarket-day at the chief stationer's in Casterbridge. In the centrewas a small oval enclosure; this was left blank, that the sendermight insert tender words more appropriate to the special occasionthan any generalities by a printer could possibly be.
"Here's a place for writing," said Bathsheba. "What shall I put?"
"Something of this sort, I should think," returned Liddy promptly:--
"The rose is red, The violet blue, Carnation's sweet, And so are you."
"Yes, that shall be it. It just suits itself to a chubby-faced childlike him," said Bathsheba. She inserted the words in a small thoughlegible handwriting; enclosed the sheet in an envelope, and dippedher pen for the direction.
"What fun it would be to send it to the stupid old Boldwood, and howhe would wonder!" said the irrepressible Liddy, lifting her eyebrows,and indulging in an awful mirth on the verge of fear as she thoughtof the moral and social magnitude of the man contemplated.
Bathsheba paused to regard the idea at full length. Boldwood's hadbegun to be a troublesome image--a species of Daniel in her kingdomwho persisted in kneeling eastward when reason and common sense saidthat he might just as well follow suit with the rest, and afford herthe official glance of admiration which cost nothing at all. She wasfar from being seriously concerned about his nonconformity. Still,it was faintly depressing that the most dignified and valuable manin the parish should withhold his eyes, and that a girl like Liddyshould talk about it. So Liddy's idea was at first rather harassingthan piquant.
"No, I won't do that. He wouldn't see any humour in it."
"He'd worry to death," said the persistent Liddy.
"Really, I don't care particularly to send it to Teddy," remarked hermistress. "He's rather a naughty child sometimes."
"Yes--that he is."
"Let's toss as men do," said Bathsheba, idly. "Now then, head,Boldwood; tail, Teddy. No, we won't toss money on a Sunday, thatwould be tempting the devil indeed."
"Toss this hymn-book; there can't be no sinfulness in that, miss."
"Very well. Open, Boldwood--shut, Teddy. No; it's more likely tofall open. Open, Teddy--shut, Boldwood."
The book went fluttering in the air and came down shut.
Bathsheba, a small yawn upon her mouth, took the pen, and withoff-hand serenity directed the missive to Boldwood.
"Now light a candle, Liddy. Which seal shall we use? Here's aunicorn's head--there's nothing in that. What's this?--twodoves--no. It ought to be something extraordinary, ought it not,Liddy? Here's one with a motto--I remember it is some funny one, butI can't read it. We'll try this, and if it doesn't do we'll haveanother."
A large red seal was duly affixed. Bathsheba looked closely at thehot wax to discover the words.
"Capital!" she exclaimed, throwing down the letter frolicsomely."'Twould upset the solemnity of a parson and clerke too."
Liddy looked at the words of the seal, and read--
"MARRY ME."
The same evening the letter was sent, and was duly sorted inCasterbridge post-office that night, to be returned to Weatherburyagain in the morning.
So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done. Of love as aspectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectivelyshe knew nothing.