The Woodlanders Part 2 by Thomas Hardy (best short books to read TXT) 📖

Shall Eat Away My Heart If I Do Not Let Out All,  After

Meeting you Like This And Finding how Guileless You Are." She

Thereupon Whispered a Few Words In the Girl'S Ear,  And Burst Into

A Violent Fit Of Sobbing.

 

Grace Started roughly Away From The Shelter Of The Fur,  And Sprang

To Her Feet.

 

"Oh,  My God!" She Exclaimed,  Thunderstruck At A Revelation

Transcending her Utmost Suspicion.  "Can It Be--Can It Be!"

 

She Turned as If To Hasten Away.  But Felice Charmond'S Sobs Came

To Her Ear: Deep Darkness Circled her About,  The Funereal Trees

Rocked and Chanted their Diriges And Placebos Around Her,  And She

Did Not Know Which Way To Go.  After A Moment Of Energy She Felt

Mild Again,  And Turned to The Motionless Woman At Her Feet.

 

"Are You Rested?" She Asked,  In what Seemed something like Her Own

Voice Grown Ten Years Older.

 

Without An Answer Mrs. Charmond Slowly Rose.

 

"You Mean To Betray Me!" She Said From The Bitterest Depths Of Her

Soul.  "Oh Fool,  Fool I!"

 

Part 2 Chapter 8 Pg 46

"No," Said Grace,  Shortly.  "I Mean No Such Thing.  But Let Us Be

Quick Now.  We Have A Serious Undertaking before Us.  Think Of

Nothing but Going straight On."

 

They Walked on In profound Silence,  Pulling back Boughs Now

Growing wet,  And Treading down Woodbine,  But Still Keeping a

Pretty Straight Course.  Grace Began To Be Thoroughly Worn Out,

And Her Companion Too,  When,  On A Sudden,  They Broke Into The

Deserted highway At The Hill-Top On Which The Sherton Man Had

Waited for Mrs. Dollery'S Van.  Grace Recognized the Spot As Soon

As She Looked around Her.

 

"How We Have Got Here I Cannot Tell," She Said,  With Cold

Civility.  "We Have Made A Complete Circuit Of Little Hintock.

The Hazel Copse Is Quite On The Other Side.  Now We Have Only To

Follow The Road."

 

They Dragged themselves Onward,  Turned into The Lane,  Passed the

Track To Little Hintock,  And So Reached the Park.

 

"Here I Turn Back," Said Grace,  In the Same Passionless Voice.

"You Are Quite Near Home."

 

Mrs. Charmond Stood Inert,  Seeming appalled by Her Late Admission.

 

"I Have Told You Something in a Moment Of Irresistible Desire To

Unburden My Soul Which All But A Fool Would Have Kept Silent As

The Grave," She Said.  "I Cannot Help It Now.  Is It To Be A

Secret--Or Do You Mean War?"

 

"A Secret,  Certainly," Said Grace,  Mournfully.  "How Can You

Expect War From Such A Helpless,  Wretched being as I!"

 

"And I'Ll Do My Best Not To See Him.  I Am His Slave; But I'Ll

Try."

 

Grace Was Naturally Kind; But She Could Not Help Using a Small

Dagger Now.

 

"Pray Don'T Distress Yourself," She Said,  With Exquisitely Fine

Scorn.  "You May Keep Him--For Me." Had She Been Wounded instead

Of Mortified she Could Not Have Used the Words; But Fitzpiers'S

Hold Upon Her Heart Was Slight.

 

They Parted thus And There,  And Grace Went Moodily Homeward.

Passing marty'S Cottage She Observed through The Window That The

Girl Was Writing instead Of Chopping as Usual,  And Wondered what

Her Correspondence Could Be.  Directly Afterwards She Met People

In Search Of Her,  And Reached the House To Find All In serious

Alarm.  She Soon Explained that She Had Lost Her Way,  And Her

General Depression Was Attributed to Exhaustion On That Account.

 

Could She Have Known What Marty Was Writing she Would Have Been

Surprised.

 

The Rumor Which Agitated the Other Folk Of Hintock Had Reached the

Young Girl,  And She Was Penning a Letter To Fitzpiers,  To Tell Him

That Mrs. Charmond Wore Her Hair.  It Was Poor Marty'S Only Card,

Part 2 Chapter 8 Pg 47

And She Played it,  Knowing nothing of Fashion,  And Thinking her

Revelation A Fatal One For A Lover.

 

Part 2 Chapter 9 Pg 48

 

 

It Was At The Beginning of April,  A Few Days After The Meeting

Between Grace And Mrs. Charmond In the Wood,  That Fitzpiers,  Just

Returned from London,  Was Travelling from Sherton-Abbas To Hintock

In A Hired carriage.  In his Eye There Was A Doubtful Light,  And

The Lines Of His Refined face Showed a Vague Disquietude.  He

Appeared now Like One Of Those Who Impress The Beholder As Having

Suffered wrong In being born.

 

His Position Was In truth Gloomy,  And To His Appreciative Mind It

Seemed even Gloomier Than It Was.  His Practice Had Been Slowly

Dwindling of Late,  And Now Threatened to Die Out Altogether,  The

Irrepressible Old Dr. Jones Capturing patients Up To Fitzpiers'S

Very Door.  Fitzpiers Knew Only Too Well The Latest And Greatest

Cause Of His Unpopularity; And Yet,  So Illogical Is Man,  The

Second Branch Of His Sadness Grew Out Of A Remedial Measure

Proposed for The First--A Letter From Felice Charmond Imploring

Him Not To See Her Again.  To Bring about Their Severance Still

More Effectually,  She Added,  She Had Decided during his Absence

Upon Almost Immediate Departure For The Continent.

 

The Time Was That Dull Interval In a Woodlander'S Life Which

Coincides With Great Activity In the Life Of The Woodland Itself--

A Period Following the Close Of The Winter Tree-Cutting,  And

Preceding the Barking season,  When The Saps Are Just Beginning to

Heave With The Force Of Hydraulic Lifts Inside All The Trunks Of

The Forest.

 

Winterborne'S Contract Was Completed,  And The Plantations Were

Deserted.  It Was Dusk; There Were No Leaves As Yet; The

Nightingales Would Not Begin To Sing for A Fortnight; And "The

Mother Of The Months" Was In her Most Attenuated phase--Starved

And Bent To A Mere Bowed skeleton,  Which Glided along Behind The

Bare Twigs In fitzpiers'S Company

 

When He Reached home He Went Straight Up To His Wife'S Sitting-

Room.  He Found It Deserted,  And Without A Fire.  He Had Mentioned

No Day For His Return; Nevertheless,  He Wondered why She Was Not

There Waiting to Receive Him.  On Descending to The Other Wing of

The House And Inquiring of Mrs. Melbury,  He Learned with Much

Surprise That Grace Had Gone On A Visit To An Acquaintance At

Shottsford-Forum Three Days Earlier; That Tidings Had On This

Morning reached her Father Of Her Being very Unwell There,  In

Consequence Of Which He Had Ridden Over To See Her.

 

Part 2 Chapter 9 Pg 49

Fitzpiers Went Up-Stairs Again,  And The Little Drawing-Room,  Now

Lighted by A Solitary Candle,  Was Not Rendered more Cheerful By

The Entrance Of Grammer Oliver With An Apronful Of Wood,  Which She

Threw On The Hearth While She Raked out The Grate And Rattled

About The Fire-Irons,  With A View To Making things Comfortable.

Fitzpiers Considered that Grace Ought To Have Let Him Know Her

Plans More Accurately Before Leaving home In a Freak Like This.

He Went Desultorily To The Window,  The Blind Of Which Had Not Been

Pulled down,  And Looked out At The Thin,  Fast-Sinking moon,  And At

The Tall Stalk Of Smoke Rising from The Top Of Suke Damson'S

Chimney,  Signifying that The Young Woman Had Just Lit Her Fire To

Prepare Supper.

 

He Became Conscious Of A Discussion In progress On The Opposite

Side Of The Court.  Somebody Had Looked over The Wall To Talk To

The Sawyers,  And Was Telling them In a Loud Voice News In which

The Name Of Mrs. Charmond Soon Arrested his Ears.

 

"Grammer,  Don'T Make So Much Noise With That Grate," Said The

Surgeon; At Which Grammer Reared herself Upon Her Knees And Held

The Fuel Suspended in her Hand,  While Fitzpiers Half Opened the

Casement.

 

"She Is Off To Foreign Lands Again At Last--Hev Made Up Her Mind

Quite Sudden-Like--And It Is Thoughted she'Ll Leave In a Day Or

Two.  She'S Been All As If Her Mind Were Low For Some Days Past--

With A Sort Of Sorrow In her Face,  As If She Reproached her Own

Soul.  She'S The Wrong Sort Of Woman For Hintock--Hardly Knowing a

Beech From A Woak--That I Own.  But I Don'T Care Who The Man Is,

She'S Been A Very Kind Friend To Me.

 

"Well,  The Day After To-Morrow Is The Sabbath Day,  And Without

Charity We Are But Tinkling simples; But This I Do Say,  That Her

Going will Be A Blessed thing for A Certain Married couple Who

Remain."

 

The Fire Was Lighted,  And Fitzpiers Sat Down In front Of It,

Restless As The Last Leaf Upon A Tree.  "A Sort Of Sorrow In her

Face,  As If She Reproached her Own Soul." Poor Felice.  How

Felice'S Frame Must Be Pulsing under The Conditions Of Which He

Had Just Heard The Caricature; How Her Fair Temples Must Ache;

What A Mood Of Wretchedness She Must Be In! But For The Mixing up

Of His Name With Hers,  And Her Determination To Sunder Their Too

Close Acquaintance On That Account,  She Would Probably Have Sent

For Him Professionally. She Was Now Sitting alone,  Suffering,

Perhaps Wishing that She Had Not Forbidden Him To Come Again.

 

Unable To Remain In this Lonely Room Any Longer,  Or To Wait For

The Meal Which Was In course Of Preparation,  He Made Himself Ready

For Riding,  Descended to The Yard,  Stood By The Stable-Door While

Darling was Being saddled,  And Rode Off Down The Lane.  He Would

Have Preferred walking,  But Was Weary With His Day'S Travel.

 

As He Approached the Door Of Marty South'S Cottage,  Which It Was

Necessary To Pass On His Way,  She Came From The Porch As If She

Had Been Awaiting him,  And Met Him In the Middle Of The Road,

Holding up A Letter.  Fitzpiers Took It Without Stopping,  And

Asked over His Shoulder From Whom It Came.