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

Upon The Thought; Still Less Did She Deliberately Hope For Such A

Result.  Her Regard For Winterborne Had Been Rarefied by The Shock

Which Followed its Avowal Into An Ethereal Emotion That Had Little

To Do With Living and Doing.

As For Giles,  He Was Lying--Or Rather Sitting--Ill At His Hut.  A

Feverish Indisposition Which Had Been Hanging about Him For Some

Time,  The Result Of A Chill Caught The Previous Winter,  Seemed to

Acquire Virulence With The Prostration Of His Hopes.  But Not A

Soul Knew Of His Languor,  And He Did Not Think The Case Serious

Enough To Send For A Medical Man.  After A Few Days He Was Better

Again,  And Crept About His Home In a Great Coat,  Attending to His

Simple Wants As Usual With His Own Hands.  So Matters Stood When

The Limpid Inertion Of Grace'S Pool-Like Existence Was Disturbed

As By A Geyser.  She Received a Letter From Fitzpiers.

Such A Terrible Letter It Was In its Import,  Though Couched in the

Gentlest Language.  In his Absence Grace Had Grown To Regard Him

With Toleration,  And Her Relation To Him With Equanimity,  Till She

Had Almost Forgotten How Trying his Presence Would Be.  He Wrote

Briefly And Unaffectedly; He Made No Excuses,  But Informed her

That He Was Living quite Alone,  And Had Been Led to Think That

They Ought To Be Together,  If She Would Make Up Her Mind To

Forgive Him.  He Therefore Purported to Cross The Channel To

Budmouth By The Steamer On A Day He Named,  Which She Found To Be

Three Days After The Time Of Her Present Reading.

He Said That He Could Not Come To Hintock For Obvious Reasons,

Which Her Father Would Understand Even Better Than Herself.  As

The Only Alternative She Was To Be On The Quay To Meet The Steamer

When It Arrived from The Opposite Coast,  Probably About Half An

Hour Before Midnight,  Bringing with Her Any Luggage She Might

Require; Join Him There,  And Pass With Him Into The Twin Vessel,

Which Left Immediately The Other Entered the Harbor; Returning

Thus With Him To His Continental Dwelling-Place,  Which He Did Not

Name.  He Had No Intention Of Showing himself On Land At All.

The Troubled grace Took The Letter To Her Father,  Who Now

Continued for Long Hours By The Fireless Summer Chimney-Corner,  As

If He Thought It Were Winter,  The Pitcher Of Cider Standing beside

Him,  Mostly Untasted,  And Coated with A Film Of Dust.  After

Reading it He Looked up.

"You Sha'N'T Go," Said He.

"I Had Felt I Would Not," She Answered.  "But I Did Not Know What

You Would Say."

"If He Comes And Lives In england,  Not Too Near Here And In a

Respectable Way,  And Wants You To Come To Him,  I Am Not Sure That

I'Ll Oppose Him In wishing it," Muttered melbury.  "I'D Stint

Myself To Keep You Both In a Genteel And Seemly Style.  But Go

Abroad You Never Shall With My Consent."

There The Question Rested that Day.  Grace Was Unable To Reply To

Her Husband In the Absence Of An Address,  And The Morrow Came,  And

The Next Day,  And The Evening on Which He Had Requested her To

Meet Him.  Throughout The Whole Of It She Remained within The Four

Walls Of Her Room.

The Sense Of Her Harassment,  Carking doubt Of What Might Be

Impending,  Hung Like A Cowl Of Blackness Over The Melbury

Household.  They Spoke Almost In whispers,  And Wondered what

Fitzpiers Would Do Next.  It Was The Hope Of Every One That,

Finding she Did Not Arrive,  He Would Return Again To France; And

As For Grace,  She Was Willing to Write To Him On The Most Kindly

Terms If He Would Only Keep Away.

The Night Passed,  Grace Lying tense And Wide Awake,  And Her

Relatives,  In great Part,  Likewise.  When They Met The Next

Morning they Were Pale And Anxious,  Though Neither Speaking of The

Subject Which Occupied all Their Thoughts.  The Day Passed as

Quietly As The Previous Ones,  And She Began To Think That In the

Rank Caprice Of His Moods He Had Abandoned the Idea Of Getting her

To Join Him As Quickly As It Was Formed.  All On A Sudden,  Some

Person Who Had Just Come From Sherton Entered the House With The

News That Mr. Fitzpiers Was On His Way Home To Hintock.  He Had

Been Seen Hiring a Carriage At The Earl Of Wessex Hotel.

Her Father And Grace Were Both Present When The Intelligence Was

Announced.

"Now," Said Melbury,  "We Must Make The Best Of What Has Been A

Very Bad Matter.  The Man Is Repenting; The Partner Of His Shame,

I Hear,  Is Gone Away From Him To Switzerland,  So That Chapter Of

His Life Is Probably Over.  If He Chooses To Make A Home For Ye I

Think You Should Not Say Him Nay,  Grace.  Certainly He Cannot Very

Well Live At Hintock Without A Blow To His Pride; But If He Can

Bear That,  And Likes Hintock Best,  Why,  There'S The Empty Wing of

The House As It Was Before."

"Oh,  Father!" Said Grace,  Turning white With Dismay.

"Why Not?" Said He,  A Little Of His Former Doggedness Returning.

He Was,  In truth,  Disposed to Somewhat More Leniency Towards Her

Husband Just Now Than He Had Shown Formerly,  From A Conviction

That He Had Treated him Over-Roughly In his Anger.  "Surely It Is

The Most Respectable Thing to Do?" He Continued.  "I Don'T Like

This State That You Are In--Neither Married nor Single.  It Hurts

Me,  And It Hurts You,  And It Will Always Be Remembered against Us

In Hintock.  There Has Never Been Any Scandal Like It In the

Family Before."

"He Will Be Here In less Than An Hour," Murmured grace.  The

Twilight Of The Room Prevented her Father Seeing the Despondent

Misery Of Her Face.  The One Intolerable Condition,  The Condition

She Had Deprecated above All Others,  Was That Of Fitzpiers'S

Reinstatement There.  "Oh,  I Won'T,  I Won'T See Him," She Said,

Sinking down.  She Was Almost Hysterical.

"Try If You Cannot," He Returned,  Moodily.

"Oh Yes,  I Will,  I Will," She Went On,  Inconsequently.  "I'Ll

Try;" And Jumping up Suddenly,  She Left The Room.

In The Darkness Of The Apartment To Which She Flew Nothing could

Have Been Seen During the Next Half-Hour; But From A Corner A

Quick Breathing was Audible From This Impressible Creature,  Who

Combined modern Nerves With Primitive Emotions,  And Was Doomed by

Such Coexistence To Be Numbered among The Distressed,  And To Take

Her Scourgings To Their Exquisite Extremity.

The Window Was Open.  On This Quiet,  Late Summer Evening,  Whatever

Sound Arose In so Secluded a District--The Chirp Of A Bird,  A Call

From A Voice,  The Turning of A Wheel--Extended over Bush And Tree

To Unwonted distances.  Very Few Sounds Did Arise.  But As Grace

Invisibly Breathed in the Brown Glooms Of The Chamber,  The Small

Remote Noise Of Light Wheels Came In to Her,  Accompanied by The

Trot Of A Horse On The Turnpike-Road.  There Seemed to Be A Sudden

Hitch Or Pause In the Progress Of The Vehicle,  Which Was What

First Drew Her Attention To It.  She Knew The Point Whence The

Sound Proceeded--The Hill-Top Over Which Travellers Passed on

Their Way Hitherward From Sherton Abbas--The Place At Which She

Had Emerged from The Wood With Mrs. Charmond.  Grace Slid Along

The Floor,  And Bent Her Head Over The Window-Sill,  Listening with

Open Lips.  The Carriage Had Stopped,  And She Heard A Man Use

Exclamatory Words.  Then Another Said,  "What The Devil Is The

Matter With The Horse?" She Recognized the Voice As Her Husband'S.

The Accident,  Such As It Had Been,  Was Soon Remedied,  And The

Carriage Could Be Heard Descending the Hill On The Hintock Side,

Soon To Turn Into The Lane Leading out Of The Highway,  And Then

Into The "Drong" Which Led out Of The Lane To The House Where She

Was.

A Spasm Passed through Grace.  The Daphnean Instinct,

Exceptionally Strong In her As A Girl,  Had Been Revived by Her

Widowed seclusion; And It Was Not Lessened by Her Affronted

Sentiments Towards The Comer,  And Her Regard For Another Man.  She

Opened some Little Ivory Tablets That Lay On The Dressing-Table,

Scribbled in pencil On One Of Them,  "I Am Gone To Visit One Of My

School-Friends," Gathered a Few Toilet Necessaries Into A Hand-

Bag,  And Not Three Minutes After That Voice Had Been Heard,  Her

Slim Form,  Hastily Wrapped up From Observation,  Might Have Been

Seen Passing out Of The Back Door Of Melbury'S House.  Thence She

Skimmed up The Garden-Path,  Through The Gap In the Hedge,  And Into

The Mossy Cart-Track Under The Trees Which Led into The Depth Of

The Woods.

The Leaves Overhead Were Now In their Latter Green--So Opaque,

That It Was Darker At Some Of The Densest Spots Than In winter-

Time,  Scarce A Crevice Existing by Which A Ray Could Get Down To

The Ground.  But In open Places She Could See Well Enough.  Summer

Was Ending: In the Daytime Singing insects Hung In every Sunbeam;

Vegetation Was Heavy Nightly With Globes Of Dew; And After Showers

Creeping damps And Twilight Chills Came Up From The Hollows.  The

Plantations Were Always Weird At This Hour Of Eve--More Spectral

Far Than In the Leafless Season,  When There Were Fewer Masses And

More Minute Lineality.  The Smooth Surfaces Of Glossy Plants Came

Out Like Weak,  Lidless Eyes; There Were Strange Faces And Figures

From Expiring lights That Had Somehow Wandered into The Canopied

Obscurity; While Now And Then Low Peeps Of The Sky Between The

Trunks Were Like Sheeted shapes,  And On The Tips Of Boughs Sat

Faint Cloven Tongues.

But Grace'S Fear Just Now Was Not Imaginative Or Spiritual,  And

She Heeded these Impressions But Little.  She Went On As Silently

As She Could,  Avoiding the Hollows Wherein Leaves Had Accumulated,

And Stepping upon Soundless Moss And Grass-Tufts.  She Paused

Breathlessly Once Or Twice,  And Fancied that She Could Hear,  Above

The Beat Of Her Strumming pulse,  The Vehicle Containing fitzpiers

Turning in at The Gate Of Her Father'S Premises.  She Hastened on

Again.

The Hintock Woods Owned by Mrs. Charmond Were Presently Left

Behind,  And Those Into Which She Next Plunged were Divided from

The Latter By A Bank,  From Whose Top The Hedge Had Long Ago