The Woodlanders Part 2 - Thomas Hardy (debian ebook reader txt) 📗

More Impelled to Go At

Once By The Absence Of His Son-In-Law In london For A Few Days,  To

Attend,  Really Or Ostensibly,  Some Professional Meetings.  He Said

Nothing of His Destination Either To His Wife Or To Grace,  Fearing

That They Might Entreat Him To Abandon So Risky A Project,  And

Went Out Unobserved.  He Had Chosen His Time With A View,  As He

Supposed,  Of Conveniently Catching mrs. Charmond When She Had Just

Finished her Breakfast,  Before Any Other Business People Should Be

About,  If Any Came.  Plodding thoughtfully Onward,  He Crossed a

Glade Lying between Little Hintock Woods And The Plantation Which

Abutted on The Park; And The Spot Being open,  He Was Discerned

There By Winterborne From The Copse On The Next Hill,  Where He And

His Men Were Working.  Knowing his Mission,  The Younger Man

Hastened down From The Copse And Managed to Intercept The Timber-

Merchant.

 

"I Have Been Thinking of This,  Sir," He Said,  "And I Am Of Opinion

That It Would Be Best To Put Off Your Visit For The Present."

 

But Melbury Would Not Even Stop To Hear Him.  His Mind Was Made

Up,  The Appeal Was To Be Made; And Winterborne Stood And Watched

Him Sadly Till He Entered the Second Plantation And Disappeared.

 

Melbury Rang At The Tradesmen'S Door Of The Manor-House,  And Was

At Once Informed that The Lady Was Not Yet Visible,  As Indeed he

Might Have Guessed had He Been Anybody But The Man He Was.

Melbury Said He Would Wait,  Whereupon The Young Man Informed him

In A Neighborly Way That,  Between Themselves,  She Was In bed and

Asleep.

 

"Never Mind," Said Melbury,  Retreating into The Court,  "I'Ll Stand

About Here." Charged so Fully With His Mission,  He Shrank From

Contact With Anybody.

 

But He Walked about The Paved court Till He Was Tired,  And Still

Nobody Came To Him.  At Last He Entered the House And Sat Down In

A Small Waiting-Room,  From Which He Got Glimpses Of The Kitchen

Corridor,  And Of The White-Capped maids Flitting jauntily Hither

And Thither.  They Had Heard Of His Arrival,  But Had Not Seen Him

Enter,  And,  Imagining him Still In the Court,  Discussed freely The

Possible Reason Of His Calling.  They Marvelled at His Temerity;

For Though Most Of The Tongues Which Had Been Let Loose Attributed

The Chief Blame-Worthiness To Fitzpiers,  These Of Her Household

Preferred to Regard Their Mistress As The Deeper Sinner.

 

Melbury Sat With His Hands Resting on The Familiar Knobbed thorn

Walking-Stick,  Whose Growing he Had Seen Before He Enjoyed its

Use.  The Scene To Him Was Not The Material Environment Of His

Person,  But A Tragic Vision That Travelled with Him Like An

Envelope.  Through This Vision The Incidents Of The Moment But

Gleamed confusedly Here And There,  As An Outer Landscape Through

Part 2 Chapter 7 Pg 36

The High-Colored scenes Of A Stained window.  He Waited thus An

Hour,  An Hour And A Half,  Two Hours.  He Began To Look Pale And

Ill,  Whereupon The Butler,  Who Came In,  Asked him To Have A Glass

Of Wine.  Melbury Roused himself And Said,  "No,  No.  Is She Almost

Ready?"

 

"She Is Just Finishing breakfast," Said The Butler.  "She Will

Soon See You Now.  I Am Just Going up To Tell Her You Are Here."

 

"What! Haven'T You Told Her Before?" Said Melbury.

 

"Oh No," Said The Other.  "You See You Came So Very Early."

 

At Last The Bell Rang: Mrs. Charmond Could See Him.  She Was Not

In Her Private Sitting-Room When He Reached it,  But In a Minute He

Heard Her Coming from The Front Staircase,  And She Entered where

He Stood.

 

At This Time Of The Morning mrs. Charmond Looked her Full Age And

More.  She Might Almost Have Been Taken For The Typical Femme De

Trente Ans,  Though She Was Really Not More Than Seven Or Eight And

Twenty.  There Being no Fire In the Room,  She Came In with A Shawl

Thrown Loosely Round Her Shoulders,  And Obviously Without The

Least Suspicion That Melbury Had Called upon Any Other Errand Than

Timber.  Felice Was,  Indeed,  The Only Woman In the Parish Who Had

Not Heard The Rumor Of Her Own Weaknesses; She Was At This Moment

Living in a Fool'S Paradise In respect Of That Rumor,  Though Not

In Respect Of The Weaknesses Themselves,  Which,  If The Truth Be

Told,  Caused her Grave Misgivings.

 

"Do Sit Down,  Mr. Melbury.  You Have Felled all The Trees That

Were To Be Purchased by You This Season,  Except The Oaks,  I

Believe."

 

"Yes," Said Melbury.

 

"How Very Nice! It Must Be So Charming to Work In the Woods Just

Now!"

 

She Was Too Careless To Affect An Interest In an Extraneous

Person'S Affairs So Consummately As To Deceive In the Manner Of

The Perfect Social Machine.  Hence Her Words "Very Nice," "So

Charming," Were Uttered with A Perfunctoriness That Made Them

Sound Absurdly Unreal.

 

"Yes,  Yes," Said Melbury,  In a Reverie.  He Did Not Take A Chair,

And She Also Remained standing.  Resting upon His Stick,  He Began:

"Mrs. Charmond,  I Have Called upon A More Serious Matter--At Least

To Me--Than Tree-Throwing.  And Whatever Mistakes I Make In my

Manner Of Speaking upon It To You,  Madam,  Do Me The Justice To Set

'Em Down To My Want Of Practice,  And Not To My Want Of Care."

 

Mrs. Charmond Looked ill At Ease.  She Might Have Begun To Guess

His Meaning; But Apart From That,  She Had Such Dread Of Contact

With Anything painful,  Harsh,  Or Even Earnest,  That His

Preliminaries Alone Were Enough To Distress Her.  "Yes,  What Is

It?" She Said.

 

Part 2 Chapter 7 Pg 37

"I Am An Old Man," Said Melbury,  "Whom,  Somewhat Late In life,  God

Thought Fit To Bless With One Child,  And She A Daughter.  Her

Mother Was A Very Dear Wife To Me,  But She Was Taken Away From Us

When The Child Was Young,  And The Child Became Precious As The

Apple Of My Eye To Me,  For She Was All I Had Left To Love.  For

Her Sake Entirely I Married as Second Wife A Homespun Woman Who

Had Been Kind As A Mother To Her.  In due Time The Question Of Her

Education Came On,  And I Said,  'I Will Educate The Maid Well,  If I

Live Upon Bread To Do It.' Of Her Possible Marriage I Could Not

Bear To Think,  For It Seemed like A Death That She Should Cleave

To Another Man,  And Grow To Think His House Her Home Rather Than

Mine.  But I Saw It Was The Law Of Nature That This Should Be,  And

That It Was For The Maid'S Happiness That She Should Have A Home

When I Was Gone; And I Made Up My Mind Without A Murmur To Help It

On For Her Sake.  In my Youth I Had Wronged my Dead Friend,  And To

Make Amends I Determined to Give Her,  My Most Precious Possession,

To My Friend'S Son,  Seeing that They Liked each Other Well.

Things Came About Which Made Me Doubt If It Would Be For My

Daughter'S Happiness To Do This,  Inasmuch As The Young Man Was

Poor,  And She Was Delicately Reared.  Another Man Came And Paid

Court To Her--One Her Equal In breeding and Accomplishments; In

Every Way It Seemed to Me That He Only Could Give Her The Home

Which Her Training had Made A Necessity Almost.  I Urged her On,

And She Married him.  But,  Ma'Am,  A Fatal Mistake Was At The Root

Of My Reckoning.  I Found That This Well-Born Gentleman I Had

Calculated on So Surely Was Not Stanch Of Heart,  And That Therein

Lay A Danger Of Great Sorrow For My Daughter.  Madam,  He Saw You,

And You Know The Rest....I Have Come To Make No Demands--To Utter

No Threats; I Have Come Simply As A Father In great Grief About

This Only Child,  And I Beseech You To Deal Kindly With My

Daughter,  And To Do Nothing which Can Turn Her Husband'S Heart

Away From Her Forever.  Forbid Him Your Presence,  Ma'Am,  And Speak

To Him On His Duty As One With Your Power Over Him Well Can Do,

And I Am Hopeful That The Rent Between Them May Be Patched up.

For It Is Not As If You Would Lose By So Doing; Your Course Is Far

Higher Than The Courses Of A Simple Professional Man,  And The

Gratitude You Would Win From Me And Mine By Your Kindness Is More

Than I Can Say."

 

Mrs. Charmond Had First Rushed into A Mood Of Indignation On

Comprehending melbury'S Story; Hot And Cold By Turns,  She Had

Murmured,  "Leave Me,  Leave Me!" But As He Seemed to Take No Notice

Of This,  His Words Began To Influence Her,  And When He Ceased

Speaking she Said,  With Hurried,  Hot Breath,  "What Has Led you To

Think This Of Me?  Who Says I Have Won Your Daughter'S Husband

Away From Her?  Some Monstrous Calumnies Are Afloat--Of Which I

Have Known Nothing until Now!"

 

Melbury Started,  And Looked at Her Simply.  "But Surely,  Ma'Am,

You Know The Truth Better Than I?"

 

Her Features Became A Little Pinched,  And The Touches Of Powder On

Her Handsome Face For The First Time Showed themselves As An

Extrinsic Film.  "Will You Leave Me To Myself?" She Said,  With A

Faintness Which Suggested a Guilty Conscience.  "This Is So

Utterly Unexpected--You Obtain Admission To My Presence By

Misrepresentation--"

 

Part 2 Chapter 7 Pg 38

"As God'S In heaven,  Ma'Am,  That'S Not True.  I Made No Pretence;

And I Thought In reason You Would Know Why I Had Come.  This

Gossip--"

 

"I Have Heard Nothing of It.  Tell Me Of It,  I Say."

 

"Tell You,  Ma'Am--Not I.  What The Gossip Is,  No Matter.  What

Really Is,  You Know.  Set Facts Right,  And The Scandal Will Right

Of Itself.  But Pardon Me--I Speak Roughly; And I Came To Speak

Gently,  To Coax You,  Beg You To Be My Daughter'S Friend.  She

Loved you Once,  Ma'Am; You Began By Liking her.  Then You Dropped

Her Without A Reason,  And It Hurt Her Warm Heart More Than I Can

Tell Ye.  But You Were Within Your Right As The Superior,  No

Doubt.  But If You Would Consider Her Position Now--Surely,

Surely,  You Would Do Her No Harm!"

 

"Certainly I Would Do Her No Harm--I--" Melbury'S Eye Met Hers.

It Was Curious,  But The Allusion To Grace'S Former Love For Her

Seemed to Touch Her More Than All Melbury'S Other Arguments.  "Oh,

Melbury," She Burst Out,  "You Have Made Me So Unhappy! How Could

You Come To Me Like This! It Is Too Dreadful! Now Go Away--Go,

Go!"

 

"I