The Woodlanders Part 2 by Thomas Hardy (best romantic books to read txt) 📕

Marty Hesitated.  "From Me," She Said,  Shyly,  Though With

Noticeable Firmness.

This Letter Contained,  In fact,  Marty'S Declaration That She Was

The Original Owner Of Mrs. Charmond'S Supplementary Locks,  And

Enclosed a Sample From The Native Stock,  Which Had Grown

Considerably By This Time.  It Was Her Long Contemplated apple Of

Discord,  And Much Her Hand Trembled as She Handed the Document Up

To Him.

But It Was Impossible On Account Of The Gloom For Fitzpiers To

Read It Then,  While He Had The Curiosity To Do So,  And He Put It

In His Pocket.  His Imagination Having already Centred itself On

Hintock House,  In his Pocket The Letter Remained unopened and

Forgotten,  All The While That Marty Was Hopefully Picturing its

Excellent Weaning effect Upon Him.

He Was Not Long In reaching the Precincts Of The Manor House.  He

Drew Rein Under A Group Of Dark Oaks Commanding a View Of The

Front,  And Reflected a While.  His Entry Would Not Be Altogether

Unnatural In the Circumstances Of Her Possible Indisposition; But

Upon The Whole He Thought It Best To Avoid Riding up To The Door.

By Silently Approaching he Could Retreat Unobserved in the Event

Of Her Not Being alone.  Thereupon He Dismounted,  Hitched darling

To A Stray Bough Hanging a Little Below The General Browsing line

Of The Trees,  And Proceeded to The Door On Foot.

In The Mean Time Melbury Had Returned from Shottsford-Forum.  The

Great Court Or Quadrangle Of The Timber-Merchant'S House,  Divided

From The Shady Lane By An Ivy-Covered wall,  Was Entered by Two

White Gates,  One Standing near Each Extremity Of The Wall.  It So

Happened that At The Moment When Fitzpiers Was Riding out At The

Lower Gate On His Way To The Manor House,  Melbury Was Approaching

The Upper Gate To Enter It.  Fitzpiers Being in front Of Melbury

Was Seen By The Latter,  But The Surgeon,  Never Turning his Head,

Did Not Observe His Father-In-Law,  Ambling slowly And Silently

Along Under The Trees,  Though His Horse Too Was A Gray One.

"How Is Grace?" Said His Wife,  As Soon As He Entered.

Melbury Looked gloomy.  "She Is Not At All Well," He Said.  "I

Don'T Like The Looks Of Her At All.  I Couldn'T Bear The Notion Of

Her Biding away In a Strange Place Any Longer,  And I Begged her To

Let Me Get Her Home.  At Last She Agreed to It,  But Not Till After

Much Persuading.  I Was Then Sorry That I Rode Over Instead Of

Driving; But I Have Hired a Nice Comfortable Carriage--The

Easiest-Going i Could Get--And She'Ll Be Here In a Couple Of Hours

Or Less.  I Rode On Ahead To Tell You To Get Her Room Ready; But I

See Her Husband Has Come Back."

"Yes," Said Mrs. Melbury.  She Expressed her Concern That Her

Husband Had Hired a Carriage All The Way From Shottsford.  "What

It Will Cost!" She Said.

"I Don'T Care What It Costs!" He Exclaimed,  Testily.  "I Was

Determined to Get Her Home.  Why She Went Away I Can'T Think! She

Acts In a Way That Is Not At All Likely To Mend Matters As Far As

I Can See." (Grace Had Not Told Her Father Of Her Interview With

Mrs. Charmond,  And The Disclosure That Had Been Whispered in her

Startled ear.) "Since Edgar Is Come," He Continued,  "He Might Have

Waited in till I Got Home,  To Ask Me How She Was,  If Only For A

Compliment.  I Saw Him Go Out; Where Is He Gone?"

Mrs. Melbury Did Not Know Positively; But She Told Her Husband

That There Was Not Much Doubt About The Place Of His First Visit

After An Absence.  She Had,  In fact,  Seen Fitzpiers Take The

Direction Of The Manor House.

Melbury Said No More.  It Was Exasperating to Him That Just At

This Moment,  When There Was Every Reason For Fitzpiers To Stay

Indoors,  Or At Any Rate To Ride Along The Shottsford Road To Meet

His Ailing wife,  He Should Be Doing despite To Her By Going

Elsewhere.  The Old Man Went Out-Of-Doors Again; And His Horse

Being hardly Unsaddled as Yet,  He Told Upjohn To Retighten The

Girths,  When He Again Mounted,  And Rode Off At The Heels Of The

Surgeon.

By The Time That Melbury Reached the Park,  He Was Prepared to Go

Any Lengths In combating this Rank And Reckless Errantry Of His

Daughter'S Husband.  He Would Fetch Home Edgar Fitzpiers To-Night

By Some Means,  Rough Or Fair: In his View There Could Come Of His

Interference Nothing worse Than What Existed at Present.  And Yet

To Every Bad There Is A Worse.

He Had Entered by The Bridle-Gate Which Admitted to The Park On

This Side,  And Cantered over The Soft Turf Almost In the Tracks Of

Fitzpiers'S Horse,  Till He Reached the Clump Of Trees Under Which

His Precursor Had Halted.  The Whitish Object That Was

Indistinctly Visible Here In the Gloom Of The Boughs He Found To

Be Darling,  As Left By Fitzpiers.

"D--N Him! Why Did He Not Ride Up To The House In an Honest Way?"

Said Melbury.

He Profited by Fitzpiers'S Example; Dismounting,  He Tied his Horse

Under An Adjoining tree,  And Went On To The House On Foot,  As The

Other Had Done.  He Was No Longer Disposed to Stick At Trifles In

His Investigation,  And Did Not Hesitate To Gently Open The Front

Door Without Ringing.

The Large Square Hall,  With Its Oak Floor,  Staircase,  And

Wainscot,  Was Lighted by A Dim Lamp Hanging from A Beam.  Not A

Soul Was Visible.  He Went Into The Corridor And Listened at A

Door Which He Knew To Be That Of The Drawing-Room; There Was No

Sound,  And On Turning the Handle He Found The Room Empty.  A Fire

Burning low In the Grate Was The Sole Light Of The Apartment; Its

Beams Flashed mockingly On The Somewhat Showy Versaillese

Furniture And Gilding here,  In style As Unlike That Of The

Structural Parts Of The Building as It Was Possible To Be,  And

Probably Introduced by Felice To Counteract The Fine Old-English

Gloom Of The Place.  Disappointed in his Hope Of Confronting his

Son-In-Law Here,  He Went On To The Dining-Room; This Was Without

Light Or Fire,  And Pervaded by A Cold Atmosphere,  Which Signified

That She Had Not Dined there That Day.

By This Time Melbury'S Mood Had A Little Mollified.  Everything

Here Was So Pacific,  So Unaggressive In its Repose,  That He Was No

Longer Incited to Provoke A Collision With Fitzpiers Or With

Anybody.  The Comparative Stateliness Of The Apartments Influenced

Him To An Emotion,  Rather Than To A Belief,  That Where All Was

Outwardly So Good And Proper There Could Not Be Quite That

Delinquency Within Which He Had Suspected.  It Occurred to Him,

Too,  That Even If His Suspicion Were Justified,  His Abrupt,  If Not

Unwarrantable,  Entry Into The House Might End In confounding its

Inhabitant At The Expense Of His Daughter'S Dignity And His Own.

Any Ill Result Would Be Pretty Sure To Hit Grace Hardest In the

Long-Run.  He Would,  After All,  Adopt The More Rational Course,

And Plead With Fitzpiers Privately,  As He Had Pleaded with Mrs.

Charmond.

He Accordingly Retreated as Silently As He Had Come.  Passing the

Door Of The Drawing-Room Anew,  He Fancied that He Heard A Noise

Within Which Was Not The Crackling of The Fire.  Melbury Gently

Reopened the Door To A Distance Of A Few Inches,  And Saw At The

Opposite Window Two Figures In the Act Of Stepping out--A Man And

A Woman--In Whom He Recognized the Lady Of The House And His Son-

In-Law.  In a Moment They Had Disappeared amid The Gloom Of The

Lawn.

He Returned into The Hall,  And Let Himself Out By The Carriage-

Entrance Door,  Coming round To The Lawn Front In time To See The

Two Figures Parting at The Railing which Divided the Precincts Of

The House From The Open Park.  Mrs. Charmond Turned to Hasten Back

Immediately That Fitzpiers Had Left Her Side,  And He Was Speedily

Absorbed into The Duskiness Of The Trees.

Melbury Waited till Mrs. Charmond Had Re-Entered the Drawing-Room,

And Then Followed after Fitzpiers,  Thinking that He Would Allow

The Latter To Mount And Ride Ahead A Little Way Before Overtaking

Him And Giving him A Piece Of His Mind.  His Son-In-Law Might

Possibly See The Second Horse Near His Own; But That Would Do Him

No Harm,  And Might Prepare Him For What He Was To Expect.

The Event,  However,  Was Different From The Plan.  On Plunging into

The Thick Shade Of The Clump Of Oaks,  He Could Not Perceive His

Horse Blossom Anywhere; But Feeling his Way Carefully Along,  He

By-And-By Discerned fitzpiers'S Mare Darling still Standing as

Before Under The Adjoining tree.  For A Moment Melbury Thought

That His Own Horse,  Being young And Strong,  Had Broken Away From

Her Fastening; But On Listening intently He Could Hear Her Ambling

Comfortably Along A Little Way Ahead,  And A Creaking of The Saddle

Which Showed that She Had A Rider.  Walking on As Far As The Small

Gate In the Corner Of The Park,  He Met A Laborer,  Who,  In reply To

Melbury'S Inquiry If He Had Seen Any Person On A Gray Horse,  Said

That He Had Only Met Dr. Fitzpiers.

It Was Just What Melbury Had Begun To Suspect: Fitzpiers Had

Mounted the Mare Which Did Not Belong To Him In mistake For His

Own--An Oversight Easily Explicable,  In a Man Ever Unwitting in

Horse-Flesh,  By The Darkness Of The Spot And The Near Similarity

Of The Animals In appearance,  Though Melbury'S Was Readily Enough

Seen To Be The Grayer Horse By Day.  He Hastened back,  And Did

What Seemed best In the Circumstances--Got Upon Old Darling,  And

Rode Rapidly After Fitzpiers.

Melbury Had Just Entered the Wood,  And Was Winding along The Cart-

Way Which Led through It,  Channelled deep In the Leaf-Mould With

Large Ruts That Were Formed by The Timber-Wagons In fetching the

Spoil Of The