The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy (books under 200 pages .txt) 📕

me is like coals of fire on my head! I am a monied person now. Surely I can do something in return for your goodness⁠—something practical?”

Henchard remained in thought. He had evidently not expected this. “There is one thing you might do, Lucetta,” he said. “But not exactly of that kind.”

“Then of what kind is it?” she asked with renewed misgiving.

“I must tell you a secret to ask it.⁠—You may have heard that I have been unlucky this year? I did what I have never done before⁠—speculated rashly; and I lost. That’s just put me in a strait.

“And you would wish me to advance some money?”

“No, no!” said Henchard, almost in anger. “I’m not the man to sponge on a woman, even though she may be so nearly my own as you. No, Lucetta; what you can do is this; and it would save me. My great creditor is Grower, and it is at his hands I shall suffer if at anybody’s; while a fortnight’s forbearance on his part would be enough to allow me to pull through. This may be got out of him in one way⁠—that you would let it be known to him that you are my intended⁠—that we are to be quietly married in the next fortnight.⁠—Now stop, you haven’t heard all! Let him have this story, without, of course, any prejudice to the fact that the actual engagement between us is to be a long one. Nobody else need know: you could go with me to Mr. Grower and just let me speak to ye before him as if we were on such terms. We’ll ask him to keep it secret. He will willingly wait then. At the fortnight’s end I shall be able to face him; and I can coolly tell him all is postponed between us for a year or two. Not a soul in the town need know how you’ve helped me. Since you wish to be of use, there’s your way.”

It being now what the people called the “pinking in” of the day, that is, the quarter-hour just before dusk, he did not at first observe the result of his own words upon her.

“If it were anything else,” she began, and the dryness of her lips was represented in her voice.

“But it is such a little thing!” he said, with a deep reproach. “Less than you have offered⁠—just the beginning of what you have so lately promised! I could have told him as much myself, but he would not have believed me.”

“It is not because I won’t⁠—it is because I absolutely can’t,” she said, with rising distress.

“You are provoking!” he burst out. “It is enough to make me force you to carry out at once what you have promised.”

“I cannot!” she insisted desperately.

“Why? When I have only within these few minutes released you from your promise to do the thing offhand.”

“Because⁠—he was a witness!”

“Witness? Of what?”

“If I must tell you⁠—. Don’t, don’t upbraid me!”

“Well! Let’s hear what you mean?”

“Witness of my marriage⁠—Mr. Grower was!”

“Marriage?”

“Yes. With Mr. Farfrae. O Michael! I am already his wife. We were married this week at Port-Bredy. There were reasons against our doing it here. Mr. Grower was a witness because he happened to be at Port-Bredy at the time.”

Henchard stood as if idiotized. She was so alarmed at his silence that she murmured something about lending him sufficient money to tide over the perilous fortnight.

“Married him?” said Henchard at length. “My good⁠—what, married him whilst⁠—bound to marry me?”

“It was like this,” she explained, with tears in her eyes and quavers in her voice; “don’t⁠—don’t be cruel! I loved him so much, and I thought you might tell him of the past⁠—and that grieved me! And then, when I had promised you, I learnt of the rumour that you had⁠—sold your first wife at a fair, like a horse or cow! How could I keep my promise after hearing that? I could not risk myself in your hands; it would have been letting myself down to take your name after such a scandal. But I knew I should lose Donald if I did not secure him at once⁠—for you would carry out your threat of telling him of our former acquaintance, as long as there was a chance of keeping me for yourself by doing so. But you will not do so now, will you, Michael; for it is too late to separate us?”

The notes of St. Peter’s bells in full peal had been wafted to them while he spoke; and now the genial thumping of the town band, renowned for its unstinted use of the drumstick, throbbed down the street.

“Then this racket they are making is on account of it, I suppose?” said he.

“Yes⁠—I think he has told them, or else Mr. Grower has.⁠ ⁠… May I leave you now? My⁠—he was detained at Port-Bredy today, and sent me on a few hours before him.”

“Then it is his wife’s life I have saved this afternoon.”

“Yes⁠—and he will be forever grateful to you.”

“I am much obliged to him.⁠ ⁠… O you false woman!” burst from Henchard. “You promised me!”

“Yes, yes! But it was under compulsion, and I did not know all your past⁠—”

“And now I’ve a mind to punish you as you deserve! One word to this bran-new husband of how you courted me, and your precious happiness is blown to atoms!”

“Michael⁠—pity me, and be generous!”

“You don’t deserve pity! You did; but you don’t now.”

“I’ll help you to pay off your debt.”

“A pensioner of Farfrae’s wife⁠—not I! Don’t stay with me longer⁠—I shall say something worse. Go home!”

She disappeared under the trees of the south walk as the band came round the corner, awaking the echoes of every stock and stone in celebration of her happiness. Lucetta took no heed, but ran up the back street and reached her own home unperceived.

XXX

Farfrae’s words to his landlady had referred to the removal of his boxes and other effects from his late lodgings to Lucetta’s house. The work was not heavy,