Life's Little Ironies by Thomas Hardy (most popular novels of all time TXT) đ
- Author: Thomas Hardy
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âThis house, built by her great-great-grandfather, with its garden and little field, was copyholdâgranted upon lives in the old way, and had been so granted for generations. Her uncleâs was the last life upon the property; so that at his death, if there was no admittance of new lives, it would all fall into the hands of the lord of the manor. But âtwas easy to admitâa slight âfine,â as âtwas called, of a few pounds, was enough to entitle him to a new deed oâ grant by the custom of the manor; and the lord could not hinder it.
âNow there could be no better provision for his niece and only relative than a sure house over her head, and Nettyâs uncle should have seen to the renewal in time, owing to the peculiar custom of forfeiture by the dropping of the last life before the new fine was paid; for the Squire was very anxious to get hold of the house and land; and every Sunday when the old man came into the church and passed the Squireâs pew, the Squire would say, âA little weaker in his knees, a little crookeder in his backâand the readmittance not applied for: ha! ha! I shall be able to make a complete clearing of that corner of the manor some day!â
ââTwas extraordinary, now we look back upon it, that old Sargent should have been so dilatory; yet some people are like it; and he put off calling at the Squireâs agentâs office with the fine week after week, saying to himself, âI shall have more time next market-day than I have now.â One unfortunate hindrance was that he didnât very well like Jasper Cliff; and as Jasper kept urging Netty, and Netty on that account kept urging her uncle, the old man was inclined to postpone the re-liveing as long as he could, to spite the selfish young lover. At last old Mr. Sargent fell ill, and then Jasper could bear it no longer: he produced the fine-money himself, and handed it to Netty, and spoke to her plainly.
ââYou and your uncle ought to know better. You should press him more. Thereâs the money. If you let the house and ground slip between ye, I wonât marry; hang me if I will! For folks wonât deserve a husband that can do such things.â
âThe worried girl took the money and went home, and told her uncle that it was no house no husband for her. Old Mr. Sargent pooh-poohed the money, for the amount was not worth consideration, but he did now bestir himself; for he saw she was bent upon marrying Jasper, and he did not wish to make her unhappy, since she was so determined. It was much to the Squireâs annoyance that he found Sargent had moved in the matter at last; but he could not gainsay it, and the documents were prepared (for on this manor the copy-holders had writings with their holdings, though on some manors they had none). Old Sargent being now too feeble to go to the agentâs house, the deed was to be brought to his house signed, and handed over as a receipt for the money; the counterpart to be signed by Sargent, and sent back to the Squire.
âThe agent had promised to call on old Sargent for this purpose at five oâclock, and Netty put the money into her desk to have it close at hand. While doing this she heard a slight cry from her uncle, and turning round, saw that he had fallen forward in his chair. She went and lifted him, but he was unconscious; and unconscious he remained. Neither medicine nor stimulants would bring him to himself. She had been told that he might possibly go off in that way, and it seemed as if the end had come. Before she had started for a doctor his face and extremities grew quite cold and white, and she saw that help would be useless. He was stone-dead.
âNettyâs situation rose upon her distracted mind in all its seriousness. The house, garden, and field were lostâby a few hoursâand with them a home for herself and her lover. She would not think so meanly of Jasper as to suppose that he would adhere to the resolution declared in a moment of impatience; but she trembled, nevertheless. Why could not her uncle have lived a couple of hours longer, since he had lived so long? It was now past three oâclock; at five the agent was to call, and, if all had gone well, by ten minutes past five the house and holding would have been securely hers for her own and Jasperâs lives, these being two of the three proposed to be added by paying the fine. How that wretched old Squire would rejoice at getting the little tenancy into his hands! He did not really require it, but constitutionally hated these tiny copyholds and leaseholds and freeholds, which made islands of independence in the fair, smooth ocean of his estates.
âThen an idea struck into the head of Netty how to accomplish her object in spite of her uncleâs negligence. It was a dull December afternoon: and the first step in her schemeâso the story goes, and I see no reason to doubt itââ
ââTis true as the light,â affirmed Christopher Twink. âI was just passing by.â
âThe first step in her scheme was to fasten the outer door, to make sure of not being interrupted. Then she set to work by placing her uncleâs small, heavy oak table before the fire; then she went to her uncleâs corpse, sitting in the chair as he had diedâa stuffed arm-chair, on casters, and rather high in the seat, so it was told meâand wheeled the chair, uncle and all, to the table, placing him with his back toward the window, in the attitude of bending over the said oak table, which I knew as a boy as well as I know any piece of furniture in my own house. On the table she laid the large family Bible open before him, and placed his forefinger on the page; and then she opened his eyelids a bit, and put on him his spectacles, so that from behind he appeared for all the world as if he were reading the Scriptures. Then she unfastened the door and sat down, and when it grew dark she lit a candle, and put it on the table beside her uncleâs book.
âFolk may well guess how the time passed with her till the agent came, and how, when his knock sounded upon the door, she nearly started out of her skinâat least thatâs as it was told me. Netty promptly went to the door.
ââI am sorry, sir,â she says, under her breath; âmy uncle is not so well to-night, and Iâm afraid he canât see you.â
ââHâm!âthatâs a pretty tale,â says the steward. âSo Iâve come all this way about this trumpery little job for nothing!â
ââO no, sirâI hope not,â says Netty. âI suppose the business of granting the new deed can be done just the same?â
ââDone? Certainly not. He must pay the renewal money, and sign the parchment in my presence.â
âShe looked dubious. âUncle is so dreadful nervous about law business,â says she, âthat, as you know, heâs put it off and put it off for years; and now to-day really Iâve feared it would verily drive him out of his mind. His poor three teeth quite chattered when I said to him that you would be here soon with the parchment writing. He always was afraid of agents, and folks that come for rent, and such-like.â
ââPoor old fellowâIâm sorry for him. Well, the thing canât be done unless I see him and witness his signature.â
ââSuppose, sir, that you see him sign, and he donât see you looking at him? Iâd soothe his nerves by saying you werenât strict about the form of witnessing, and didnât wish to come in. So that it was done in your bare presence it would be sufficient, would it not? As heâs such an old, shrinking, shivering man, it would be a great considerateness on your part if that would do?â
ââIn my bare presence would do, of courseâthatâs all I come for. But how can I be a witness without his seeing me?â
ââWhy, in this way, sir; if youâll oblige me by just stepping here.â She conducted him a few yards to the left, till they were opposite the parlour window. The blind had been left up purposely, and the candle-light shone out upon the garden bushes. Within the agent could see, at the other end of the room, the back and side of the old manâs head, and his shoulders and arm, sitting with the book and candle before him, and his spectacles on his nose, as she had placed him.
ââHeâs reading his Bible, as you see, sir,â she says, quite in her meekest way.
ââYes. I thought he was a careless sort of man in matters of religion?â
ââHe always was fond of his Bible,â Netty assured him. âThough I think heâs nodding over it just at this moment However, thatâs natural in an old man, and unwell. Now you could stand here and see him sign, couldnât you, sir, as heâs such an invalid?â
ââVery well,â said the agent, lighting a cigar. âYou have ready by you the merely nominal sum youâll have to pay for the admittance, of course?â
ââYes,â said Netty. âIâll bring it out.â She fetched the cash, wrapped in paper, and handed it to him, and when he had counted it the steward took from his breast pocket the precious parchments and gave one to her to be signed.
ââUncleâs hand is a little paralyzed,â she said. âAnd what with his being half asleep, too, really I donât know what sort of a signature heâll be able to make.â
ââDoesnât matter, so that he signs.â
ââMight I hold his hand?â
ââAy, hold his hand, my young womanâthat will be near enough.â
âNetty re-entered the house, and the agent continued smoking outside the window. Now came the ticklish part of Nettyâs performance. The steward saw her put the inkhornââhorn,â says I in my old-fashioned wayâthe inkstand, before her uncle, and touch his elbow as to arouse him, and speak to him, and spread out the deed; when she had pointed to show him where to sign she dipped the pen and put it into his hand. To hold his hand she artfully stepped behind him, so that the agent could only see a little bit of his head, and the hand she held; but he saw the old manâs hand trace his name on the document. As soon as âtwas done she came out to the steward with the parchment in her hand, and the steward signed as witness by the light from the parlour window. Then he gave her the deed signed by the Squire, and left; and next morning Netty told the neighbours that her uncle was dead in his bed.â
âShe must have undressed him and put him there.â
âShe must. Oh, that girl had a nerve, I can tell ye! Well, to cut a long story short, thatâs how she got back the house and field that were, strictly speaking, gone from her; and by getting them, got her a husband.
âEvery virtue has its reward, they say. Netty had hers for her ingenious contrivance to gain Jasper. Two years after they were married he took to beating herânot hard, you know; just a smack or two, enough to set her in a temper, and let out to the neighbours what she had done to win him, and how she repented of her pains. When the old
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