The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy (small books to read .txt) 📕

timber-dealer’s daughter when she was out of sight. Thus the receipt of it pleased her, and she afterwards walked about with a reflective air.

In the evening her father, who knew that the note had come, said, “Why be ye not sitting down to answer your letter? That’s what young folks did in my time.”

She replied that it did not require an answer.

“Oh, you know best,” he said. Nevertheless, he went about his business doubting if she were right in not replying; possibly she might be so mismanaging matters as to risk the loss of an alliance which would bring her much happiness.

Melbury’s respect for Fitzpiers was based less on his professional position, which was not much, than on the standing of his family in the county in bygone days. That implicit faith in members of long-established families, as such, irrespective of their personal condition or character, which is still found among old-fashioned people in the rural districts reached its full intensity in Melbury. His daughter’s suitor was descended from a family he had heard of in his grandfather’s time as being once great, a family which had conferred its name upon a neighboring village; how, then, could anything be amiss in this betrothal?

“I must keep her up to this,” he said to his wife. “She sees it is for her happiness; but still she’s young, and may want a little prompting from an older tongue.”

XXIII

With this in view he took her out for a walk, a custom of his when he wished to say anything specially impressive. Their way was over the top of that lofty ridge dividing their woodland from the cider district, whence they had in the spring beheld the miles of apple-trees in bloom. All was now deep green. The spot recalled to Grace’s mind the last occasion of her presence there, and she said, “The promise of an enormous apple-crop is fulfilling itself, is it not? I suppose Giles is getting his mills and presses ready.”

This was just what her father had not come there to talk about. Without replying he raised his arm, and moved his finger till he fixed it at a point. “There,” he said, “you see that plantation reaching over the hill like a great slug, and just behind the hill a particularly green sheltered bottom? That’s where Mr. Fitzpiers’s family were lords of the manor for I don’t know how many hundred years, and there stands the village of Buckbury Fitzpiers. A wonderful property ’twas⁠—wonderful!”

“But they are not lords of the manor there now.”

“Why, no. But good and great things die as well as little and foolish. The only ones representing the family now, I believe, are our doctor and a maiden lady living I don’t know where. You can’t help being happy, Grace, in allying yourself with such a romantical family. You’ll feel as if you’ve stepped into history.”

“We’ve been at Hintock as long as they’ve been at Buckbury; is it not so? You say our name occurs in old deeds continually.”

“Oh yes⁠—as yeomen, copyholders, and suchlike. But think how much better this will be for ’ee. You’ll be living a high intellectual life, such as has now become natural to you; and though the doctor’s practice is small here, he’ll no doubt go to a dashing town when he’s got his hand in, and keep a stylish carriage, and you’ll be brought to know a good many ladies of excellent society. If you should ever meet me then, Grace, you can drive past me, looking the other way. I shouldn’t expect you to speak to me, or wish such a thing, unless it happened to be in some lonely, private place where ’twouldn’t lower ye at all. Don’t think such men as neighbor Giles your equal. He and I shall be good friends enough, but he’s not for the like of you. He’s lived our rough and homely life here, and his wife’s life must be rough and homely likewise.”

So much pressure could not but produce some displacement. As Grace was left very much to herself, she took advantage of one fine day before Fitzpiers’s return to drive into the aforesaid vale where stood the village of Buckbury Fitzpiers. Leaving her father’s man at the inn with the horse and gig, she rambled onward to the ruins of a castle, which stood in a field hard by. She had no doubt that it represented the ancient stronghold of the Fitzpiers family.

The remains were few, and consisted mostly of remnants of the lower vaulting, supported on low stout columns surmounted by the crochet capital of the period. The two or three arches of these vaults that were still in position were utilized by the adjoining farmer as shelter for his calves, the floor being spread with straw, amid which the young creatures rustled, cooling their thirsty tongues by licking the quaint Norman carving, which glistened with the moisture. It was a degradation of even such a rude form of art as this to be treated so grossly, she thought, and for the first time the family of Fitzpiers assumed in her imagination the hues of a melancholy romanticism.

It was soon time to drive home, and she traversed the distance with a preoccupied mind. The idea of so modern a man in science and aesthetics as the young surgeon springing out of relics so ancient was a kind of novelty she had never before experienced. The combination lent him a social and intellectual interest which she dreaded, so much weight did it add to the strange influence he exercised upon her whenever he came near her.

In an excitement which was not love, not ambition, rather a fearful consciousness of hazard in the air, she awaited his return.

Meanwhile her father was awaiting him also. In his house there was an old work on medicine, published towards the end of the last century, and to put himself in harmony with events Melbury spread this work on his knees