A Changed Man and Other Tales by Thomas Hardy (animal farm read .TXT) đ
- Author: Thomas Hardy
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Before the fire the young woman in question was now seated on a low stool, in the stillness of reverie, and a toddling boy played about the floor around her.
âAh, Mrs. Stone!â said Selina, rising slowly. âHow kind of you to come in. Youâll bide to supper? Mother has told you the strange news, of course?â
âNo. But I heard it outside, that is, that youâd had a letter from Mr. ClarkâSergeant-Major Clark, as they say he is nowâand that heâs coming to make it up with âee.â
âYes; coming to-nightâall the way from the north of England where heâs quartered. I donât know whether Iâm happy orâfrightened at it. Of course I always believed that if he was alive heâd come and keep his solemn vow to me. But when it is printed that a man is killedâ what can you think?â
âIt WAS printed?â
âWhy, yes. After the Battle of the Alma the book of the names of the killed and wounded was nailed up against Casterbridge Town Hall door. âTwas on a Saturday, and I walked there oâ purpose to read and see for myself; for Iâd heard that his name was down. There was a crowd of people round the book, looking for the names of relations; and I can mind that when they saw me they made way for meâknowing that weâd been just going to be marriedâand that, as you may say, I belonged to him. Well, I reached up my arm, and turned over the farrels of the book, and under the âkilledâ I read his surname, but instead of âJohnâ theyâd printed âJames,â and I thought âtwas a mistake, and that it must be he. Who could have guessed there were two nearly of one name in one regiment.â
âWellâheâs coming to finish the wedding of âee as may be said; so never mind, my dear. Allâs well that ends well.â
âThatâs what he seems to say. But then he has not heard yet about Mr. Miller; and thatâs what rather terrifies me. Luckily my marriage with him next week was to have been by licence, and not banns, as in Johnâs case; and it was not so well known on that account. Still, I donât know what to think.â
âEverything seems to come just âtwixt cup and lip with âee, donât it now, Miss Paddock. Two weddings broke offââtis odd! How came you to accept Mr. Miller, my dear?â
âHeâs been so good and faithful! Not minding about the child at all; for he knew the rights of the story. Heâs dearly fond oâ Johnny, you knowâjust as if âtwere his ownâisnât he, my duck? Do Mr. Miller love you or donât he?â
âIss! Anâ I love Mr. Miller,â said the toddler.
âWell, you see, Mrs. Stone, he said heâd make me a comfortable home; and thinking âtwould be a good thing for Johnny, Mr. Miller being so much better off than me, I agreed at last, just as a widow mightâ which is what I have always felt myself; ever since I saw what I thought was Johnâs name printed there. I hope John will forgive me!â
âSo he will forgive âee, since âtwas no manner of wrong to him. He ought to have sent âee a line, saying âtwas another man.â
Selinaâs mother entered. âWeâve not known of this an hour, Mrs. Stone,â she said. âThe letter was brought up from Lower Mellstock Post-office by one of the school children, only this afternoon. Mr. Miller was coming here this very night to settle about the wedding doings. Hark! Is that your father? Or is it Mr. Miller already come?â
The footsteps entered the porch; there was a brushing on the mat, and the door of the room sprung back to disclose a rubicund man about thirty years of age, of thriving master-mechanic appearance and obviously comfortable temper. On seeing the child, and before taking any notice whatever of the elders, the comer made a noise like the crowing of a cock and flapped his arms as if they were wings, a method of entry which had the unqualified admiration of Johnny.
âYesâit is he,â said Selina constrainedly advancing.
âWhatâwere you all talking about me, my dear?â said the genial young man when he had finished his crowing and resumed human manners. âWhy whatâs the matter,â he went on. âYou look struck all of a heap.â Mr. Miller spread an aspect of concern over his own face, and drew a chair up to the fire.
âO mother, would you tell Mr. Miller, if he donât know?â
âMISTER Miller! and going to be married in six days!â he interposed.
âAhâhe donât know it yet!â murmured Mrs. Paddock.
âKnow what?â
âWellâJohn Clarkânow Sergeant-Major Clarkâwasnât shot at Alma after all. âTwas another of almost the same name.â
âNow thatâs interesting! There were several cases like that.â
âAnd heâs home again; and heâs coming here to-night to see her.â
âWhatever shall I say, that he may not be offended with what Iâve done?â interposed Selina.
âBut why should it matter if he be?â
âO! I must agree to be his wife if he forgives meâof course I must.â
âMust! But why not say nay, Selina, even if he do forgive âee?â
âO no! How can I without being wicked? You were very very kind, Mr. Miller, to ask me to have you; no other man would have done it after what had happened; and I agreed, even though I did not feel half so warm as I ought. Yet it was entirely owing to my believing him in the grave, as I knew that if he were not he would carry out his promise; and this shows that I was right in trusting him.â
âYes ⊠He must be a goodish sort of fellow,â said Mr. Miller, for a moment so impressed with the excellently faithful conduct of the sergeant-major of dragoons that he disregarded its effect upon his own position. He sighed slowly and added, âWell, Selina, âtis for you to say. I love you, and I love the boy; and thereâs my chimney-corner and sticks oâ furniture ready for âee both.â
âYes, I know! But I mustnât hear it any more now,â murmured Selina quickly. âJohn will be here soon. I hope heâll see how it all was when I tell him. If so be I could have written it to him it would have been better.â
âYou think he doesnât know a single word about our having been on the brink oât. But perhaps itâs the other wayâheâs heard of it and that may have brought him.
âAhâperhaps he has!â she said brightening. âAnd already forgives me.â
âIf not, speak out straight and fair, and tell him exactly how it fell out. If heâs a man heâll see it.â
âO heâs a man true enough. But I really do think I shanât have to tell him at all, since youâve put it to me that way!â
As it was now Johnnyâs bedtime he was carried upstairs, and when Selina came down again her mother observed with some anxiety, âI fancy Mr. Clark must be here soon if heâs coming; and that being so, perhaps Mr. Miller wouldnât mindâwishing us good-night! since you are so determined to stick to your sergeant-major.â A little bitterness bubbled amid the closing words. âIt would be less awkward, Mr. Miller not being hereâif he will allow me to say it.â
âTo be sure; to be sure,â the master-wheelwright exclaimed with instant conviction, rising alertly from his chair. âLord bless my soul,â he said, taking up his hat and stick, âand we to have been married in six days! But Selinaâyouâre right. You do belong to the childâs father since heâs alive. Iâll try to make the best of it.â
Before the generous Miller had got further there came a knock to the door accompanied by the noise of wheels.
âI thought I heard something driving up!â said Mrs Paddock.
They heard Mr. Paddock, who had been smoking in the room opposite, rise and go to the door, and in a moment a voice familiar enough to Selina was audibly saying, âAt last I am here againânot without many interruptions! How is it with âee, Mr. Paddock? And how is she? Thought never to see me again, I suppose?â
A step with a clink of spurs in it struck upon the entry floor.
âDanged if I bainât catched!â murmured Mr. Miller, forgetting company-speech. âNever mindâI may as well meet him here as elsewhere; and I should like to see the chap, and make friends with en, as he seems one oâ the right sort.â He returned to the fireplace just as the sergeant-major was ushered in.
III
He was a good specimen of the long-service soldier of those days; a not unhandsome man, with a certain undemonstrative dignity, which some might have said to be partly owing to the stiffness of his uniform about his neck, the high stock being still worn. He was much stouter than when Selina had parted from him. Although she had not meant to be demonstrative she ran across to him directly she saw him, and he held her in his arms and kissed her.
Then in much agitation she whispered something to him, at which he seemed to be much surprised.
âHeâs just put to bed,â she continued. âYou can go up and see him. I knew youâd come if you were alive! But I had quite giâd you up for dead. Youâve been home in England ever since the war ended?â
âYes, dear.â
âWhy didnât you come sooner?â
âThatâs just what I ask myself! Why was I such a sappy as not to hurry here the first day I set foot on shore! Well, whoâd have thought itâyou are as pretty as ever!â
He relinquished her to peep upstairs a little way, where, by looking through the ballusters, he could see Johnnyâs cot just within an open door. On his stepping down again Mr. Miller was preparing to depart.
âNow, whatâs this? I am sorry to see anybody going the moment Iâve come,â expostulated the sergeant-major. âI thought we might make an evening of it. Thereâs a nine gallon cask oâ âPhoenixâ beer outside in the trap, and a ham, and half a rawmilâ cheese; for I thought you might be short oâ forage in a lonely place like this; and it
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