A Changed Man and Other Tales by Thomas Hardy (animal farm read .TXT) đ
- Author: Thomas Hardy
- Performer: -
Book online «A Changed Man and Other Tales by Thomas Hardy (animal farm read .TXT) đ». Author Thomas Hardy
âO no, not at all,â said Mr. Paddock, who was now in the room, in a judicial measured manner. âVery thoughtful of âee, only âtwas not necessary, for we had just laid in an extry stock of eatables and drinkables in preparation for the coming event.â
âTwas very kind, upon my heart,â said the soldier, âto think me worth such a jocund preparation, since you could only have got my letter this morning.â
Selina gazed at her father to stop him, and exchanged embarrassed glances with Miller. Contrary to her hopes Sergeant-Major Clark plainly did not know that the preparations referred to were for something quite other than his own visit.
The movement of the horse outside, and the impatient tapping of a whip-handle upon the vehicle reminded them that Clarkâs driver was still in waiting. The provisions were brought into the house, and the cart dismissed. Miller, with very little pressure indeed, accepted an invitation to supper, and a few neighbours were induced to come in to make up a cheerful party.
During the laying of the meal, and throughout its continuance, Selina, who sat beside her first intended husband, tried frequently to break the news to him of her engagement to the otherânow terminated so suddenly, and so happily for her heart, and her sense of womanly virtue. But the talk ran entirely upon the late war; and though fortified by half a horn of the strong ale brought by the sergeant-major she decided that she might have a better opportunity when supper was over of revealing the situation to him in private.
Having supped, Clark leaned back at ease in his chair and looked around. âWe used sometimes to have a dance in that other room after supper, Selina dear, I recollect. We used to clear out all the furniture into this room before beginning. Have you kept up such goings on?â
âNo, not at all!â said his sweetheart, sadly.
âWe were not unlikely to revive it in a few days,â said Mr. Paddock. âBut, howsomever, thereâs seemingly many a slip, as the saying is.â
âYes, Iâll tell John all about that by and by!â interposed Selina; at which, perceiving that the secret which he did not like keeping was to be kept even yet, her father held his tongue with some show of testiness.
The subject of a dance having been broached, to put the thought in practice was the feeling of all. Soon after the tables and chairs were borne from the opposite room to this by zealous hands, and two of the villagers sent home for a fiddle and tambourine, when the majority began to tread a measure well known in that secluded vale. Selina naturally danced with the sergeant-major, not altogether to her fatherâs satisfaction, and to the real uneasiness of her mother, both of whom would have preferred a postponement of festivities till the rashly anticipated relationship between their daughter and Clark in the past had been made fact by the churchâs ordinances. They did not, however, express a positive objection, Mr. Paddock remembering, with self-reproach, that it was owing to his original strongly expressed disapproval of Selinaâs being a soldierâs wife that the wedding had been delayed, and finally hinderedâwith worse consequences than were expected; and ever since the misadventure brought about by his government he had allowed events to steer their own courses.
âMy tails will surely catch in your spurs, John!â murmured the daughter of the house, as she whirled around upon his arm with the rapt soul and look of a somnambulist. âI didnât know we should dance, or I would have put on my other frock.â
âIâll take care, my love. Weâve danced here before. Do you think your father objects to me now? Iâve risen in rank. I fancy heâs still a little against me.â
âHe has repented, times enough.â
âAnd so have I! If I had married you then âtwould have saved many a misfortune. I have sometimes thought it might have been possible to rush the ceremony through somehow before I left; though we were only in the second asking, were we? And even if I had come back straight here when we returned from the Crimea, and married you then, how much happier I should have been!â
âDear John, to say that! Why didnât you?â
âOâdilatoriness and want of thought, and a fear of facing your father after so long. I was in hospital a great while, you know. But how familiar the place seems again! Whatâs that I saw on the beaufet in the other room? It never used to be there. A sort of withered corpse of a cakeânot an old bride-cake surely?â
âYes, John, ours. âTis the very one that was made for our wedding three years ago.â
âSakes alive! Why, time shuts up together, and all between then and now seems not to have been! What became of that wedding-gown that they were making in this room, I rememberâa bluish, whitish, frothy thing?â
âI have that too.â
âReally! ⊠Why, Selinaââ
âYes!â
âWhy not put it on now?â
âWouldnât it seemâ. And yet, O how I should like to! It would remind them all, if we told them what it was, how we really meant to be married on that bygone day!â Her eyes were again laden with wet.
âYes ⊠The pity that we didnâtâthe pity!â Moody mournfulness seemed to hold silent awhile one not naturally taciturn. âWellâwill you?â he said.
âI willâthe next dance, if mother donât mind.â
Accordingly, just before the next figure was formed, Selina disappeared, and speedily came downstairs in a creased and box-worn, but still airy and pretty, muslin gown, which was indeed the very one that had been meant to grace her as a bride three years before.
âIt is dreadfully old-fashioned,â she apologized.
âNot at all. What a grand thought of mine! Now, letâs toât again.â
She explained to some of them, as he led her to the second dance, what the frock had been meant for, and that she had put it on at his request. And again athwart and around the room they went.
âYou seem the bride!â he said.
âBut I couldnât wear this gown to be married in now!â she replied, ecstatically, âor I shouldnât have put it on and made it dusty. It is really too old-fashioned, and so folded and fretted out, you canât think. That was with my taking it out so many times to look at. I have never put it onâneverâtill now!â
âSelina, I am thinking of giving up the army. Will you emigrate with me to New Zealand? Iâve an uncle out there doing well, and heâd soon help me to making a larger income. The English army is glorious, but it ainât altogether enriching.â
âOf course, anywhere that you decide upon. Is it healthy there for Johnny?â
âA lovely climate. And I shall never be happy in England ⊠Aha!â he concluded again, with a bitterness of unexpected strength, âwould to Heaven I had come straight back here!â
As the dance brought round one neighbour after another the re-united pair were thrown into juxtaposition with Bob Heartall among the rest who had been called in; one whose chronic expression was that he carried inside him a joke on the point of bursting with its own vastness. He took occasion now to let out a little of its quality, shaking his head at Selina as he addressed her in an undertone -
âThis is a bit of a topper to the bridegroom, ho ho! âTwill teach en the liberty youâll expect when youâve married en!â
âWhat does he mean by a âtopper,ââ the sergeant-major asked, who, not being of local extraction, despised the venerable local language, and also seemed to suppose âbridegroomâ to be an anticipatory name for himself. âI only hope I shall never be worse treated than youâve treated me to-night!â
Selina looked frightened. âHe didnât mean you, dear,â she said as they moved on. âWe thought perhaps you knew what had happened, owing to your coming just at this time. Had youâheard anything aboutâ what I intended?â
âNot a breathâhow should Iâaway up in Yorkshire? It was by the merest accident that I came just at this date to make peace with you for my delay.â
âI was engaged to be married to Mr. Bartholomew Miller. Thatâs what it is! I would have let âee know by letter, but there was no time, only hearing from âee this afternoon ⊠You wonât desert me for it, will you, John? Because, as you know, I quite supposed you dead, andâandââ Her eyes were full of tears of trepidation, and he might have felt a sob heaving within her.
IV
The soldier was silent during two or three double bars of the tune. âWhen were you to have been married to the said Mr. Bartholomew Miller?â he inquired.
âQuite soon.â
âHow soon?â
âNext weekâO yesâjust the same as it was with you and me. Thereâs a strange fate of interruption hanging over me, I sometimes think! He had bought the licence, which I preferred so that it mightnât be likeâours. But it made no difference to the fate of it.â
âHad bought the licence! The devil!â
âDonât be angry, dear John. I didnât know!â
âNo, no, Iâm not angry.â
âIt was so kind of him, considering!â
âYes ⊠I see, of course, how natural your action wasânever thinking of seeing me any more! Is it the Mr. Miller who is in this dance?â
âYes.â
Clark glanced round upon Bartholomew and was silent again, for some little while, and she stole a look at him, to find that he seemed changed. âJohn, you look ill!â she almost sobbed. âTisnât me, is it?â
âO dear, no. Though I hadnât, somehow, expected it. I canât find fault with you for a momentâand I donât ⊠This is a deuce of a long dance, donât you think? Weâve been at it twenty minutes if a second, and the figure doesnât allow one much rest. Iâm quite out of breath.â
âThey like them so dreadfully long here. Shall we drop out? Or Iâll stop the fiddler.â
âO no, no, I think I can finish. But although I look healthy enough I have never been so strong as I formerly was, since that long illness I had in the hospital at Scutari.â
âAnd I knew nothing about it!â
âYou couldnât, dear, as I didnât write. What a fool I have been altogether!â He gave a twitch, as of one in pain. âI wonât dance again when this one is over. The fact is I have travelled a long way to-day, and it seems to have knocked me up a bit.â
There could be no doubt that the sergeant-major was unwell, and Selina made herself miserable by still believing that her story was the cause of his ailment. Suddenly he said in a changed voice, and she perceived that he was paler than ever: âI must sit down.â
Letting go her waist he went quickly to the other room. She followed, and found him in the nearest chair, his face bent down upon his hands and arms, which were resting on the table.
âWhatâs the matter?â said her father, who sat there dozing by the fire.
âJohn isnât well ⊠We are going to New Zealand when we are married, father. A lovely country! John, would you like something to drink?â
âA drop oâ that Schiedam of old Owlettâs, thatâs under stairs, perhaps,â suggested her father. âNot that nowadays âtis much better than licensed liquor.â
âJohn,â she said, putting her face close to his and pressing his arm. âWill you have a drop of spirits or something?â
He did not reply, and Selina observed that his ear and the side of his face were quite
Comments (0)