THE TRUMPET-MAJORJOHN LOVEDAY

A SOLDIER IN THE WAR WITH BUONAPARTEANDROBERT HIS BROTHERFIRST MATE IN THE MERCHANT SERVICE

A TALE

BYTHOMAS HARDY

WITH A MAP OF WESSEX

MACMILLAN AND CO. , LIMITEDST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON1920

COPYRIGHT

_First Edition_ (3 _vols. _) 1880. _New Edition_ (1 _vol. _) _andreprints_ 1881-1893_New Edition and reprints_ 1896-1900_First published by Macmillan and Co. _, _Crown_ 8_vo_, 1903. _Reprinted_1906, 1910, 1914_Pocket Edition_ 1907. _Reprinted_ 1909, 1912, 1915, 1917, 1919, 1920

PREFACE

The present tale is founded more largely on testimony--oral andwritten--than any other in this series. The external incidents whichdirect its course are mostly an unexaggerated reproduction of therecollections of old persons well known to the author in childhood, butnow long dead, who were eye-witnesses of those scenes. If whollytranscribed their recollections would have filled a volume thrice thelength of 'The Trumpet-Major. '

Down to the middle of this century, and later, there were not wanting, inthe neighbourhood of the places more or less clearly indicated herein, casual relics of the circumstances amid which the action moves--ourpreparations for defence against the threatened invasion of England byBuonaparte. An outhouse door riddled with bullet-holes, which had beenextemporized by a solitary man as a target for firelock practice when thelanding was hourly expected, a heap of bricks and clods on a beacon-hill, which had formed the chimney and walls of the hut occupied by the beacon-keeper, worm-eaten shafts and iron heads of pikes for the use of thosewho had no better weapons, ridges on the down thrown up during theencampment, fragments of volunteer uniform, and other such lingeringremains, brought to my imagination in early childhood the state ofaffairs at the date of the war more vividly than volumes of history couldhave done. 

Those who have attempted to construct a coherent narrative of past timesfrom the fragmentary information furnished by survivors, are aware of thedifficulty of ascertaining the true sequence of events indiscriminatelyrecalled. For this purpose the newspapers of the date wereindispensable. Of other documents consulted I may mention, for thesatisfaction of those who love a true story, that the 'Address to allRanks and Descriptions of Englishmen' was transcribed from an originalcopy in a local museum; that the hieroglyphic portrait of Napoleonexisted as a print down to the present day in an old woman's cottage near'Overcombe;' that the particulars of the King's doings at his favouritewatering-place were augmented by details from records of the time. Thedrilling scene of the local militia received some additions from anaccount given in so grave a work as Gifford's 'History of the Wars of theFrench Revolution' (London, 1817). But on reference to the History Ifind I was mistaken in supposing the account to be advanced as authentic, or to refer to rural England. However, it does in a large degree accordwith the local traditions of such scenes that I have heard recounted, times without number, and the system of drill was tested by reference tothe Army Regulations of 1801, and other military handbooks. Almost thewhole narrative of the supposed landing of the French in the Bay is fromoral relation as aforesaid. Other proofs of the veracity of thischronicle have escaped my recollection. 

T. H. 

_October_ 1895. 

I. WHAT WAS SEEN FROM THE WINDOW OVERLOOKING THE DOWN

In the days of high-waisted and muslin-gowned women, when the vast amountof soldiering going on in the country was a cause of much trembling tothe sex, there lived in a village near the Wessex coast two ladies ofgood report, though unfortunately of limited means. The elder was a Mrs. Martha Garland, a landscape-painter's widow, and the other was her onlydaughter Anne. 

Anne was fair, very fair, in a poetical sense; but in complexion she wasof that particular tint between blonde and brunette which isinconveniently left without a name. Her eyes were honest and inquiring, her mouth cleanly cut and yet not classical, the middle point of herupper lip scarcely descending so far as it should have done by rights, sothat at the merest pleasant thought, not to mention a smile, portions oftwo or three white teeth were uncovered whether she would or not. Somepeople said that this was very attractive. She was graceful and slender, and, though but little above five feet in height, could draw herself upto look tall. In her manner, in her comings and goings, in her 'I'll dothis, ' or 'I'll do that, ' she combined dignity with sweetness as no othergirl could do; and any impressionable stranger youths who passed by wereled to yearn for a windfall of speech from her, and to see at the sametime that they would not get it. In short, beneath all that was charmingand simple in this young woman there lurked a real firmness, unperceivedat first, as the speck of colour lurks unperceived in the heart of thepalest parsley flower. 

She wore a white handkerchief to cover her white neck, and a cap on herhead with a pink ribbon round it, tied in a bow at the front. She had agreat variety of these cap-ribbons, the young men being fond of sendingthem to her as presents until they fell definitely in love with a specialsweetheart elsewhere, when they left off doing so. Between the border ofher cap and her forehead were ranged a row of round brown curls, likeswallows' nests under eaves. 

She lived with her widowed mother in a portion of an ancient buildingformerly a manor-house, but now a mill, which, being too large for hisown requirements, the miller had found it convenient to divide andappropriate in part to these highly respectable tenants. In thisdwelling Mrs. Garland's and Anne's ears were soothed morning, noon, andnight by the music of the mill, the wheels and cogs of which, being ofwood, produced notes that might have borne in their minds a remoteresemblance to the wooden tones of the stopped diapason in an organ. Occasionally, when the miller was bolting, there was added to thesecontinuous sounds the cheerful clicking of the hopper, which did notdeprive them of rest except when it was kept going all night; and overand above all this they had the pleasure of knowing that there crept inthrough every crevice, door, and window of their dwelling, howevertightly closed, a subtle mist of superfine flour from the grinding room, quite invisible, but making its presence known in the course of time bygiving a pallid and ghostly look to the best furniture. The millerfrequently apologized to his tenants for the intrusion of this insidiousdry fog; but the widow was of a friendly and thankful nature, and shesaid that she did not mind it at all, being as it was, not nasty dirt, but the blessed staff of life. 

By good-humour of this sort, and in other ways, Mrs. Garland acknowledgedher friendship for her neighbour, with whom Anne and herself associatedto an extent which she never could have anticipated when, tempted by thelowness of the rent, they first removed thither after her husband's deathfrom a larger house at the other end of the village. Those who havelived in remote places where there is what is called no society willcomprehend the gradual levelling of distinctions that went on in thiscase at some sacrifice of gentility on the part of one household. Thewidow was sometimes sorry to find with what readiness Anne caught up somedialect-word or accent from the miller and his friends; but he was sogood and true-hearted a man, and she so easy-minded, unambitious a woman, that she would not make life a solitude for fastidious reasons. Morethan all, she had good ground for thinking that the miller secretlyadmired her, and this added a piquancy to the situation. 

* * * * *

On a fine summer morning, when the leaves were warm under the sun, andthe more industrious bees abroad, diving into every blue and red cup thatcould possibly be considered a flower, Anne was sitting at the backwindow of her mother's portion of the house, measuring out lengths ofworsted for a fringed rug that she was making, which lay, about three-quarters finished, beside her. The work, though chromatically brilliant, was tedious: a hearth-rug was a thing which nobody worked at from morningto night; it was taken up and put down; it was in the chair, on thefloor, across the hand-rail, under the bed, kicked here, kicked there, rolled away in the closet, brought out again, and so on more capriciouslyperhaps than any other home-made article. Nobody was expected to finisha rug within a calculable period, and the wools of the beginning becamefaded and historical before the end was reached. A sense of thisinherent nature of worsted-work rather than idleness led Anne to lookrather frequently from the open casement. 

Immediately before her was the large, smooth millpond, over-full, andintruding into the hedge and into the road. The water, with its flowingleaves and spots of froth, was stealing away, like Time, under the darkarch, to tumble over the great slimy wheel within. On the other side ofthe mill-pond was an open place called the Cross, because it was three-quarters of one, two lanes and a cattle-drive meeting there. It was thegeneral rendezvous and arena of the surrounding village. Behind this asteep slope rose high into the sky, merging in a wide and open down, nowlittered with sheep newly shorn. The upland by its height completelysheltered the mill and village from north winds, making summers ofsprings, reducing winters to autumn temperatures, and permitting myrtleto flourish in the open air. 

The heaviness of noon pervaded the scene, and under its influence thesheep had ceased to feed. Nobody was standing at the Cross, the fewinhabitants being indoors at their dinner. No human being was on thedown, and no human eye or interest but Anne's seemed to be concerned withit. The bees still worked on, and the butterflies did not rest fromroving, their smallness seeming to shield them from the stagnating effectthat this turning moment of day had on larger creatures. Otherwise allwas still. 

The girl glanced at the down and the sheep for no particular reason; thesteep margin of turf and daisies rising above the roofs, chimneys, apple-trees, and church tower of the hamlet around her, bounded the view fromher position, and it was necessary to look somewhere when she raised herhead. While thus engaged in working and stopping her attention wasattracted by the sudden rising and running away of the sheep squatted onthe down; and there succeeded sounds of a heavy tramping over the hardsod which the sheep had quitted, the tramp being accompanied by ametallic jingle. Turning her eyes further she beheld two cavalrysoldiers on bulky grey chargers, armed and accoutred throughout, ascending the down at a point to the left where the incline wascomparatively easy. The burnished chains, buckles, and plates of theirtrappings shone like little looking-glasses, and the blue, red, and whiteabout them was unsubdued by weather or wear. 

The two troopers rode proudly on, as if nothing less than crowns andempires ever concerned their magnificent minds. They reached that partof the down which lay just in front of her, where they came to a halt. Inanother minute there appeared behind them a group containing some half-dozen more of the same sort. These came on, halted, and dismountedlikewise. 

Two of the soldiers then walked some distance onward together, when onestood still, the other advancing further, and stretching a white line oftape between them. Two more of the men marched to another outlyingpoint, where they made marks in the ground. Thus they walked about andtook distances, obviously according to some preconcerted scheme. 

At the end of this systematic proceeding one solitary horseman--acommissioned officer, if his uniform could be judged rightly at thatdistance--rode up the down, went over the ground, looked at what theothers had done, and seemed to think that it was good. And then the girlheard yet louder tramps and clankings, and she beheld rising from wherethe others had risen a whole column of cavalry in marching order. At adistance behind these came a cloud of dust enveloping more and moretroops, their arms and accoutrements reflecting the sun through the hazein faint flashes, stars, and streaks of light. The whole body approachedslowly towards the plateau at the top of the down. 

Anne threw down her work, and letting her eyes remain on the nearingmasses of cavalry, the worsteds getting entangled as they would, said, 'Mother, mother; come here! Here's such a fine sight! What does itmean? What can they be going to do up there?'

The mother thus invoked ran upstairs and came forward to the window. Shewas a woman of sanguine mouth and eye, unheroic manner, and pleasantgeneral appearance; a little more tarnished as to surface, but not muchworse in contour than the girl herself. 

Widow Garland's thoughts were those of the period. 'Can it be theFrench, ' she said, arranging herself for the extremest form ofconsternation. 'Can that arch-enemy of mankind have landed at last?' Itshould be stated that at this time there were two arch-enemies ofmankind--Satan as usual, and Buonaparte, who had sprung up and eclipsedhis elder rival altogether. Mrs. Garland alluded, of course, to thejunior gentleman. 

'It cannot be he, ' said Anne. 'Ah! there's Simon Burden, the man whowatches at the beacon. He'll know!'

She waved her hand to an aged form of the same colour as the road, whohad just appeared beyond the mill-pond, and who, though active, was bowedto that degree which almost reproaches a feeling observer for standingupright. The arrival of the soldiery had drawn him out from his drop ofdrink at the 'Duke of York' as it had attracted Anne. At her call hecrossed the mill-bridge, and came towards the window. 

Anne inquired of him what it all meant; but Simon Burden, withoutanswering, continued to move on with parted gums, staring at the cavalryon his own private account with a concern that people often show abouttemporal phenomena when such matters can affect them but a short timelonger. 'You'll walk into the millpond!' said Anne. 'What are theydoing? You were a soldier many years ago, and ought to know. '

'Don't ask me, Mis'ess Anne, ' said the military relic, depositing hisbody against the wall one limb at a time. 'I were only in the foot, yeknow, and never had a clear understanding of horses. Ay, I be a old man, and of no judgment now. ' Some additional pressure, however, caused himto search further in his worm-eaten magazine of ideas, and he found thathe did know in a dim irresponsible way. The soldiers must have comethere to camp: those men they had seen first were the markers: they hadcome on before the rest to measure out the ground. He who hadaccompanied them was the quartermaster. 'And so you see they have gotall the lines marked out by the time the regiment have come up, ' headded. 'And then they will--well-a-deary! who'd ha' supposed thatOvercombe would see such a day as this!'

'And then they will--'

'Then-- Ah, it's gone from me again!' said Simon. 'O, and then they willraise their tents, you know, and picket their horses. That was it; so itwas. '

By this time the column of horse had ascended into full view, and theyformed a lively spectacle as they rode along the high ground in marchingorder, backed by the pale blue sky, and lit by the southerly sun. Theiruniform was bright and attractive; white buckskin pantaloons, three-quarter boots, scarlet shakos set off with lace, mustachios waxedto a needle point; and above all, those richly ornamented blue jacketsmantled with the historic pelisse--that fascination to women, andencumbrance to the wearers themselves. 

''Tis the York Hussars!' said Simon Burden, brightening like a dyingember fanned. 'Foreigners to a man, and enrolled long since my time. Butas good hearty comrades, they say, as you'll find in the King's service. '

'Here are more and different ones, ' said Mrs. Garland. 

Other troops had, during the last few minutes, been ascending the down ata remoter point, and now drew near. These were of different weight andbuild from the others; lighter men, in helmet hats, with white plumes. 

'I don't know which I like best, ' said Anne. 'These, I think, afterall. '

Simon, who had been looking hard at the latter, now said that they werethe --th Dragoons. 

'All Englishmen they, ' said the old man. 'They lay at Budmouth barracksa few years ago. '

'They did. I remember it, ' said Mrs. Garland. 

'And lots of the chaps about here 'listed at the time, ' said Simon. 'Ican call to mind that there was--ah, 'tis gone from me again! However, all that's of little account now. '

The dragoons passed in front of the lookers-on as the others had done, and their gay plumes, which had hung lazily during the ascent, swung tonorthward as they reached the top, showing that on the summit a freshbreeze blew. 'But look across there, ' said Anne. There had entered uponthe down from another direction several battalions of foot, in whitekerseymere breeches and cloth gaiters. They seemed to be weary from along march, the original black of their gaiters and boots being whity-brown with dust. Presently came regimental waggons, and the privatecanteen carts which followed at the end of a convoy. 

The space in front of the mill-pond was now occupied by nearly all theinhabitants of the village, who had turned out in alarm, and remained forpleasure, their eyes lighted up with interest in what they saw; fortrappings and regimentals, war horses and men, in towns an attraction, were here almost a sublimity. 

The troops filed to their lines, dismounted, and in quick time took offtheir accoutrements, rolled up their sheep-skins, picketed and unbittedtheir horses, and made ready to erect the tents as soon as they could betaken from the waggons and brought forward. When this was done, at agiven signal the canvases flew up from the sod; and thenceforth every manhad a place in which to lay his head. 

Though nobody seemed to be looking on but the few at the window and inthe village street, there were, as a matter of fact, many eyes convergingupon that military arrival in its high and conspicuous position, not tomention the glances of birds and other wild creatures. Men in distantgardens, women in orchards and at cottage-doors, shepherds on remotehills, turnip-hoers in blue-green enclosures miles away, captains withspy-glasses out at sea, were regarding the picture keenly. Those threeor four thousand men of one machine-like movement, some of themswashbucklers by nature; others, doubtless, of a quiet shop-keepingdisposition who had inadvertently got into uniform--all of them hadarrived from nobody knew where, and hence were matter of great curiosity. They seemed to the mere eye to belong to a different order of beings fromthose who inhabited the valleys below. Apparently unconscious andcareless of what all the world was doing elsewhere, they remainedpicturesquely engrossed in the business of making themselves a habitationon the isolated spot which they had chosen. 

Mrs. Garland was of a festive and sanguine turn of mind, a woman soon setup and soon set down, and the coming of the regiments quite excited her. She thought there was reason for putting on her best cap, thought thatperhaps there was not; that she would hurry on the dinner and go out inthe afternoon; then that she would, after all, do nothing unusual, norshow any silly excitements whatever, since they were unbecoming in amother and a widow. Thus circumscribing her intentions till she wastoned down to an ordinary person of forty, Mrs. Garland accompanied herdaughter downstairs to dine, saying, 'Presently we will call on MillerLoveday, and hear what he thinks of it all. '

II. SOMEBODY KNOCKS AND COMES IN

Miller Loveday was the representative of an ancient family ofcorn-grinders whose history is lost in the mists of antiquity. Hisancestral line was contemporaneous with that of De Ros, Howard, and De LaZouche; but, owing to some trifling deficiency in the possessions of thehouse of Loveday, the individual names and intermarriages of its memberswere not recorded during the Middle Ages, and thus their private lives inany given century were uncertain. But it was known that the family hadformed matrimonial alliances with farmers not so very small, and oncewith a gentleman-tanner, who had for many years purchased after theirdeath the horses of the most aristocratic persons in the county--fierysteeds that earlier in their career had been valued at many hundredguineas. 

It was also ascertained that Mr. Loveday's great-grandparents had beeneight in number, and his great-great-grandparents sixteen, every one ofwhom reached to years of discretion: at every stage backwards his siresand gammers thus doubled and doubled till they became a vast body ofGothic ladies and gentlemen of the rank known as ceorls or villeins, fullof importance to the country at large, and ramifying throughout theunwritten history of England. His immediate father had greatly improvedthe value of their residence by building a new chimney, and setting up anadditional pair of millstones. 

Overcombe Mill presented at one end the appearance of a hard-worked houseslipping into the river, and at the other of an idle, genteel place, half-cloaked with creepers at this time of the year, and having no visibleconnexion with flour. It had hips instead of gables, giving it a round-shouldered look, four chimneys with no smoke coming out of them, twozigzag cracks in the wall, several open windows, with a looking-glasshere and there inside, showing its warped back to the passer-by; snowydimity curtains waving in the draught; two mill doors, one above theother, the upper enabling a person to step out upon nothing at a heightof ten feet from the ground; a gaping arch vomiting the river, and alean, long-nosed fellow looking out from the mill doorway, who was thehired grinder, except when a bulging fifteen stone man occupied the sameplace, namely, the miller himself. 

Behind the mill door, and invisible to the mere wayfarer who did notvisit the family, were chalked addition and subtraction sums, many ofthem originally done wrong, and the figures half rubbed out andcorrected, noughts being turned into nines, and ones into twos. Thesewere the miller's private calculations. There were also chalked in thesame place rows and rows of strokes like open palings, representing thecalculations of the grinder, who in his youthful ciphering studies hadnot gone so far as Arabic figures. 

In the court in front were two worn-out millstones, made useful again bybeing let in level with the ground. Here people stood to smoke andconsider things in muddy weather; and cats slept on the clean surfaceswhen it was hot. In the large stubbard-tree at the corner of the gardenwas erected a pole of larch fir, which the miller had bought with othersat a sale of small timber in Damer's Wood one Christmas week. It rosefrom the upper boughs of the tree to about the height of a fisherman'smast, and on the top was a vane in the form of a sailor with his armstretched out. When the sun shone upon this figure it could be seen thatthe greater part of his countenance was gone, and the paint washed fromhis body so far as to reveal that he had been a soldier in red before hebecame a sailor in blue. The image had, in fact, been John, one of ourcoming characters, and was then turned into Robert, another of them. Thisrevolving piece of statuary could not, however, be relied on as a vane, owing to the neighbouring hill, which formed variable currents in thewind. 

The leafy and quieter wing of the mill-house was the part occupied byMrs. Garland and her daughter, who made up in summer-time for thenarrowness of their quarters by overflowing into the garden on stools andchairs. The parlour or dining-room had a stone floor--a fact which thewidow sought to disguise by double carpeting, lest the standing of Anneand herself should be lowered in the public eye. Here now the mid-daymeal went lightly and mincingly on, as it does where there is no greedycarnivorous man to keep the dishes about, and was hanging on the closewhen somebody entered the passage as far as the chink of the parlourdoor, and tapped. This proceeding was probably adopted to kindly avoidgiving trouble to Susan, the neighbour's pink daughter, who helped atMrs. Garland's in the mornings, but was at that moment particularlyoccupied in standing on the water-butt and gazing at the soldiers, withan inhaling position of the mouth and circular eyes. 

There was a flutter in the little dining-room--the sensitiveness ofhabitual solitude makes hearts beat for preternaturally small reasons--anda guessing as to who the visitor might be. It was some militarygentleman from the camp perhaps? No; that was impossible. It was theparson? No; he would not come at dinner-time. It was the well-informedman who travelled with drapery and the best Birmingham earrings? Not atall; his time was not till Thursday at three. Before they could thinkfurther the visitor moved forward another step, and the diners got aglimpse of him through the same friendly chink that had afforded him aview of the Garland dinner-table. 

'O! It is only Loveday. '

This approximation to nobody was the miller above mentioned, a hale manof fifty-five or sixty--hale all through, as many were in those days, andnot merely veneered with purple by exhilarating victuals and drinks, though the latter were not at all despised by him. His face was indeedrather pale than otherwise, for he had just come from the mill. It wascapable of immense changes of expression: mobility was its essence, aroll of flesh forming a buttress to his nose on each side, and a deepravine lying between his lower lip and the tumulus represented by hischin. These fleshy lumps moved stealthily, as if of their own accord, whenever his fancy was tickled. 

His eyes having lighted on the table-cloth, plates, and viands, he foundhimself in a position which had a sensible awkwardness for a modest manwho always liked to enter only at seasonable times the presence of a girlof such pleasantly soft ways as Anne Garland, she who could make applesseem like peaches, and throw over her shillings the glamour of guineaswhen she paid him for flour. 

'Dinner is over, neighbour Loveday; please come in, ' said the widow, seeing his case. The miller said something about coming in presently;but Anne pressed him to stay, with a tender motion of her lip as itplayed on the verge of a solicitous smile without quite lapsing intoone--her habitual manner when speaking. 

Loveday took off his low-crowned hat and advanced. He had not come aboutpigs or fowls this time. 'You have been looking out, like the rest o'us, no doubt, Mrs. Garland, at the mampus of soldiers that have come uponthe down? Well, one of the horse regiments is the --th Dragoons, my sonJohn's regiment, you know. '

The announcement, though it interested them, did not create such aneffect as the father of John had seemed to anticipate; but Anne, wholiked to say pleasant things, replied, 'The dragoons looked nicer thanthe foot, or the German cavalry either. '

'They are a handsome body of men, ' said the miller in a disinterestedvoice. 'Faith! I didn't know they were coming, though it may be in thenewspaper all the time. But old Derriman keeps it so long that we neverknow things till they be in everybody's mouth. '

This Derriman was a squireen living near, who was chiefly distinguishedin the present warlike time by having a nephew in the yeomanry. 

'We were told that the yeomanry went along the turnpike road yesterday, 'said Anne; 'and they say that they were a pretty sight, and quitesoldierly. '

'Ah! well--they be not regulars, ' said Miller Loveday, keeping backharsher criticism as uncalled for. But inflamed by the arrival of thedragoons, which had been the exciting cause of his call, his mind wouldnot go to yeomanry. 'John has not been home these five years, ' he said. 

'And what rank does he hold now?' said the widow. 

'He's trumpet-major, ma'am; and a good musician. ' The miller, who was agood father, went on to explain that John had seen some service, too. Hehad enlisted when the regiment was lying in this neighbourhood, more thaneleven years before, which put his father out of temper with him, as hehad wished him to follow on at the mill. But as the lad had enlistedseriously, and as he had often said that he would be a soldier, themiller had thought that he would let Jack take his chance in theprofession of his choice. 

Loveday had two sons, and the second was now brought into theconversation by a remark of Anne's that neither of them seemed to carefor the miller's business. 

'No, ' said Loveday in a less buoyant tone. 'Robert, you see, must needsgo to sea. '

'He is much younger than his brother?' said Mrs. Garland. 

About four years, the miller told her. His soldier son wastwo-and-thirty, and Bob was twenty-eight. When Bob returned from hispresent voyage, he was to be persuaded to stay and assist as grinder inthe mill, and go to sea no more. 

'A sailor-miller!' said Anne. 

'O, he knows as much about mill business as I do, ' said Loveday; 'he wasintended for it, you know, like John. But, bless me!' he continued, 'Iam before my story. I'm come more particularly to ask you, ma'am, andyou, Anne my honey, if you will join me and a few friends at a leetlehomely supper that I shall gi'e to please the chap now he's come? I cando no less than have a bit of a randy, as the saying is, now that he'shere safe and sound. '

Mrs. Garland wanted to catch her daughter's eye; she was in some doubtabout her answer. But Anne's eye was not to be caught, for she hatedhints, nods, and calculations of any kind in matters which should beregulated by impulse; and the matron replied, 'If so be 'tis possible, we'll be there. You will tell us the day?'

He would, as soon as he had seen son John. ''Twill be rather untidy, youknow, owing to my having no womenfolks in the house; and my man David isa poor dunder-headed feller for getting up a feast. Poor chap! his sightis bad, that's true, and he's very good at making the beds, and oilingthe legs of the chairs and other furniture, or I should have got rid ofhim years ago. '

'You should have a woman to attend to the house, Loveday, ' said thewidow. 

'Yes, I should, but--. Well, 'tis a fine day, neighbours. Hark! Ifancy I hear the noise of pots and pans up at the camp, or my earsdeceive me. Poor fellows, they must be hungry! Good day t'ye, ma'am. 'And the miller went away. 

All that afternoon Overcombe continued in a ferment of interest in themilitary investment, which brought the excitement of an invasion withoutthe strife. There were great discussions on the merits and appearance ofthe soldiery. The event opened up, to the girls unbounded possibilitiesof adoring and being adored, and to the young men an embarrassment ofdashing acquaintances which quite superseded falling in love. Thirteenof these lads incontinently stated within the space of a quarter of anhour that there was nothing in the world like going for a soldier. Theyoung women stated little, but perhaps thought the more; though, injustice, they glanced round towards the encampment from the corners oftheir blue and brown eyes in the most demure and modest manner that couldbe desired. 

In the evening the village was lively with soldiers' wives; a tree fullof starlings would not have rivalled the chatter that was going on. Theseladies were very brilliantly dressed, with more regard for colour thanfor material. Purple, red, and blue bonnets were numerous, with bunchesof cocks' feathers; and one had on an Arcadian hat of green sarcenet, turned up in front to show her cap underneath. It had once belonged toan officer's lady, and was not so much stained, except where theoccasional storms of rain, incidental to a military life, had caused thegreen to run and stagnate in curious watermarks like peninsulas andislands. Some of the prettiest of these butterfly wives had beenfortunate enough to get lodgings in the cottages, and were thus sparedthe necessity of living in huts and tents on the down. Those who had notbeen so fortunate were not rendered more amiable by the success of theirsisters-in-arms, and called them names which brought forth retorts andrejoinders; till the end of these alternative remarks seemed dependentupon the close of the day. 

One of these new arrivals, who had a rosy nose and a slight thickness ofvoice, which, as Anne said, she couldn't help, poor thing, seemed to haveseen so much of the world, and to have been in so many campaigns, thatAnne would have liked to take her into their own house, so as to acquiresome of that practical knowledge of the history of England which the ladypossessed, and which could not be got from books. But the narrowness ofMrs. Garland's rooms absolutely forbade this, and the houseless treasuryof experience was obliged to look for quarters elsewhere. 

That night Anne retired early to bed. The events of the day, cheerful asthey were in themselves, had been unusual enough to give her a slightheadache. Before getting into bed she went to the window, and lifted thewhite curtains that hung across it. The moon was shining, though not asyet into the valley, but just peeping above the ridge of the down, wherethe white cones of the encampment were softly touched by its light. Thequarter-guard and foremost tents showed themselves prominently; but thebody of the camp, the officers' tents, kitchens, canteen, andappurtenances in the rear were blotted out by the ground, because of itsheight above her. She could discern the forms of one or two sentriesmoving to and fro across the disc of the moon at intervals. She couldhear the frequent shuffling and tossing of the horses tied to thepickets; and in the other direction the miles-long voice of the sea, whispering a louder note at those points of its length where hampered inits ebb and flow by some jutting promontory or group of boulders. Loudersounds suddenly broke this approach to silence; they came from the campof dragoons, were taken up further to the right by the camp of theHanoverians, and further on still by the body of infantry. It wastattoo. Feeling no desire to sleep, she listened yet longer, looked atCharles's Wain swinging over the church tower, and the moon ascendinghigher and higher over the right-hand streets of tents, where, instead ofparade and bustle, there was nothing going on but snores and dreams, thetired soldiers lying by this time under their proper canvases, radiatinglike spokes from the pole of each tent. 

At last Anne gave up thinking, and retired like the rest. The night woreon, and, except the occasional 'All's well' of the sentries, no voice washeard in the camp or in the village below. 

III. THE MILL BECOMES AN IMPORTANT CENTRE OF OPERATIONS

The next morning Miss Garland awoke with an impression that somethingmore than usual was going on, and she recognized as soon as she couldclearly reason that the proceedings, whatever they might be, lay not faraway from her bedroom window. The sounds were chiefly those of pickaxesand shovels. Anne got up, and, lifting the corner of the curtain aboutan inch, peeped out. 

A number of soldiers were busily engaged in making a zigzag path down theincline from the camp to the river-head at the back of the house, andjudging from the quantity of work already got through they must havebegun very early. Squads of men were working at several equidistantpoints in the proposed pathway, and by the time that Anne had dressedherself each section of the length had been connected with those aboveand below it, so that a continuous and easy track was formed from thecrest of the down to the bottom of the steep. 

The down rested on a bed of solid chalk, and the surface exposed by theroadmakers formed a white ribbon, serpenting from top to bottom. 

Then the relays of working soldiers all disappeared, and, not long after, a troop of dragoons in watering order rode forward at the top and beganto wind down the new path. They came lower and closer, and at last wereimmediately beneath her window, gathering themselves up on the space bythe mill-pond. A number of the horses entered it at the shallow part, drinking and splashing and tossing about. Perhaps as many as thirty, half of them with riders on their backs, were in the water at one time;the thirsty animals drank, stamped, flounced, and drank again, lettingthe clear, cool water dribble luxuriously from their mouths. MillerLoveday was looking on from over his garden hedge, and many admiringvillagers were gathered around. 

Gazing up higher, Anne saw other troops descending by the new road fromthe camp, those which had already been to the pond making room for theseby withdrawing along the village lane and returning to the top by acircuitous route. 

Suddenly the miller exclaimed, as in fulfilment of expectation, 'Ah, John, my boy; good morning!' And the reply of 'Morning, father, ' camefrom a well-mounted soldier near him, who did not, however, form one ofthe watering party. Anne could not see his face very clearly, but shehad no doubt that this was John Loveday. 

There were tones in the voice which reminded her of old times, those ofher very infancy, when Johnny Loveday had been top boy in the villageschool, and had wanted to learn painting of her father. The deeps andshallows of the mill-pond being better known to him than to any other manin the camp, he had apparently come down on that account, and wascautioning some of the horsemen against riding too far in towards themill-head. 

Since her childhood and his enlistment Anne had seen him only once, andthen but casually, when he was home on a short furlough. His figure wasnot much changed from what it had been; but the many sunrises and sunsetswhich had passed since that day, developing her from a comparative childto womanhood, had abstracted some of his angularities, reddened his skin, and given him a foreign look. It was interesting to see what years oftraining and service had done for this man. Few would have supposed thatthe white and the blue coats of miller and soldier covered the forms offather and son. 

Before the last troop of dragoons rode off they were welcomed in a bodyby Miller Loveday, who still stood in his outer garden, this being a plotlying below the mill-tail, and stretching to the water-side. It was justthe time of year when cherries are ripe, and hang in clusters under theirdark leaves. While the troopers loitered on their horses, and chatted tothe miller across the stream, he gathered bunches of the fruit, and heldthem up over the garden hedge for the acceptance of anybody who wouldhave them; whereupon the soldiers rode into the water to where it hadwashed holes in the garden bank, and, reining their horses there, caughtthe cherries in their forage-caps, or received bunches of them on theends of their switches, with the dignified laugh that became martial menwhen stooping to slightly boyish amusement. It was a cheerful, careless, unpremeditated half-hour, which returned like the scent of a flower tothe memories of some of those who enjoyed it, even at a distance of manyyears after, when they lay wounded and weak in foreign lands. 

Then dragoons and horses wheeled off as the others had done; and troopsof the German Legion next came down and entered in panoramic processionthe space below Anne's eyes, as if on purpose to gratify her. These werenotable by their mustachios, and queues wound tightly with brown ribbonto the level of their broad shoulder-blades. They were charmed, as theothers had been, by the head and neck of Miss Garland in the littlesquare window overlooking the scene of operations, and saluted her withdevoted foreign civility, and in such overwhelming numbers that themodest girl suddenly withdrew herself into the room, and had a privateblush between the chest of drawers and the washing-stand. 

When she came downstairs her mother said, 'I have been thinking what Iought to wear to Miller Loveday's to-night. '

'To Miller Loveday's?' said Anne. 

'Yes. The party is to-night. He has been in here this morning to tellme that he has seen his son, and they have fixed this evening. '

'Do you think we ought to go, mother?' said Anne slowly, and looking atthe smaller features of the window-flowers. 

'Why not?' said Mrs. Garland. 

'He will only have men there except ourselves, will he? And shall we beright to go alone among 'em?'

Anne had not recovered from the ardent gaze of the gallant York Hussars, whose voices reached her even now in converse with Loveday. 

'La, Anne, how proud you are!' said Widow Garland. 'Why, isn't he ournearest neighbour and our landlord? and don't he always fetch our faggotsfrom the wood, and keep us in vegetables for next to nothing?'

'That's true, ' said Anne. 

'Well, we can't be distant with the man. And if the enemy land nextautumn, as everybody says they will, we shall have quite to depend uponthe miller's waggon and horses. He's our only friend. '

'Yes, so he is, ' said Anne. 'And you had better go, mother; and I'llstay at home. They will be all men; and I don't like going. '

Mrs. Garland reflected. 'Well, if you don't want to go, I don't, ' shesaid. 'Perhaps, as you are growing up, it would be better to stay athome this time. Your father was a professional man, certainly. ' Havingspoken as a mother, she sighed as a woman. 

'Why do you sigh, mother?'

'You are so prim and stiff about everything. '

'Very well--we'll go. '

'O no--I am not sure that we ought. I did not promise, and there will beno trouble in keeping away. '

Anne apparently did not feel certain of her own opinion, and, instead ofsupporting or contradicting, looked thoughtfully down, and abstractedlybrought her hands together on her bosom, till her fingers met tip to tip. 

As the day advanced the young woman and her mother became aware thatgreat preparations were in progress in the miller's wing of the house. The partitioning between the Lovedays and the Garlands was not verythorough, consisting in many cases of a simple screwing up of the doorsin the dividing walls; and thus when the mill began any new performancesthey proclaimed themselves at once in the more private dwelling. Thesmell of Miller Loveday's pipe came down Mrs. Garland's chimney of anevening with the greatest regularity. Every time that he poked his firethey knew from the vehemence or deliberateness of the blows the precisestate of his mind; and when he wound his clock on Sunday nights the whirrof that monitor reminded the widow to wind hers. This transit of noiseswas most perfect where Loveday's lobby adjoined Mrs. Garland's pantry;and Anne, who was occupied for some time in the latter apartment, enjoyedthe privilege of hearing the visitors arrive and of catching stray soundsand words without the connecting phrases that made them entertaining, tojudge from the laughter they evoked. The arrivals passed through thehouse and went into the garden, where they had tea in a largesummer-house, an occasional blink of bright colour, through the foliage, being all that was visible of the assembly from Mrs. Garland's windows. When it grew dusk they all could be heard coming indoors to finish theevening in the parlour. 

Then there was an intensified continuation of the above-mentioned signsof enjoyment, talkings and haw-haws, runnings upstairs and runnings down, a slamming of doors and a clinking of cups and glasses; till the proudestadjoining tenant without friends on his own side of the partition mighthave been tempted to wish for entrance to that merry dwelling, if only toknow the cause of these fluctuations of hilarity, and to see if theguests were really so numerous, and the observations so very amusing asthey seemed. 

The stagnation of life on the Garland side of the party-wall began tohave a very gloomy effect by the contrast. When, about half-past nineo'clock, one of these tantalizing bursts of gaiety had resounded for alonger time than usual, Anne said, 'I believe, mother, that you arewishing you had gone. '

'I own to feeling that it would have been very cheerful if we had joinedin, ' said Mrs. Garland, in a hankering tone. 'I was rather too nice inlistening to you and not going. The parson never calls upon us except inhis spiritual capacity. Old Derriman is hardly genteel; and there'snobody left to speak to. Lonely people must accept what company they canget. '

'Or do without it altogether. '

'That's not natural, Anne; and I am surprised to hear a young woman likeyou say such a thing. Nature will not be stifled in that way. . . . '(Song and powerful chorus heard through partition. ) 'I declare the roomon the other side of the wall seems quite a paradise compared with this. '

'Mother, you are quite a girl, ' said Anne in slightly superior accents. 'Go in and join them by all means. '

'O no--not now, ' said her mother, resignedly shaking her head. 'It istoo late now. We ought to have taken advantage of the invitation. Theywould look hard at me as a poor mortal who had no real business there, and the miller would say, with his broad smile, "Ah, you be obliged tocome round. "'

While the sociable and unaspiring Mrs. Garland continued thus to pass theevening in two places, her body in her own house and her mind in themiller's, somebody knocked at the door, and directly after the elderLoveday himself was admitted to the room. He was dressed in a suitbetween grand and gay, which he used for such occasions as the present, and his blue coat, yellow and red waistcoat with the three lower buttonsunfastened, steel-buckled shoes and speckled stockings, became him verywell in Mrs. Martha Garland's eyes. 

'Your servant, ma'am, ' said the miller, adopting as a matter of proprietythe raised standard of politeness required by his higher costume. 'Now, begging your pardon, I can't hae this. 'Tis unnatural that you twoladies should be biding here and we under the same roof making merrywithout ye. Your husband, poor man--lovely picters that a' would make tobe sure--would have been in with us long ago if he had been in yourplace. I can take no nay from ye, upon my honour. You and maidy Annemust come in, if it be only for half-an-hour. John and his friends havegot passes till twelve o'clock to-night, and, saving a few of our ownvillage folk, the lowest visitor present is a very genteel Germancorporal. If you should hae any misgivings on the score ofrespectability, ma'am, we'll pack off the underbred ones into the backkitchen. '

Widow Garland and Anne looked yes at each other after this appeal. 

'We'll follow you in a few minutes, ' said the elder, smiling; and sherose with Anne to go upstairs. 

'No, I'll wait for ye, ' said the miller doggedly; 'or perhaps you'llalter your mind again. '

While the mother and daughter were upstairs dressing, and sayinglaughingly to each other, 'Well, we must go now, ' as if they hadn'twished to go all the evening, other steps were heard in the passage; andthe miller cried from below, 'Your pardon, Mrs. Garland; but my son Johnhas come to help fetch ye. Shall I ask him in till ye be ready?'

'Certainly; I shall be down in a minute, ' screamed Anne's mother in aslanting voice towards the staircase. 

When she descended, the outline of the trumpet-major appeared half-waydown the passage. 'This is John, ' said the miller simply. 'John, youcan mind Mrs. Martha Garland very well?'

'Very well, indeed, ' said the dragoon, coming in a little further. 'Ishould have called to see her last time, but I was only home a week. Howis your little girl, ma'am?'

Mrs. Garland said Anne was quite well. 'She is grown-up now. She willbe down in a moment. '

There was a slight noise of military heels without the door, at which thetrumpet-major went and put his head outside, and said, 'All right--comingin a minute, ' when voices in the darkness replied, 'No hurry. '

'More friends?' said Mrs. Garland. 

'O, it is only Buck and Jones come to fetch me, ' said the soldier. 'ShallI ask 'em in a minute, Mrs Garland, ma'am?'

'O yes, ' said the lady; and the two interesting forms of Trumpeter Buckand Saddler-sergeant Jones then came forward in the most friendly manner;whereupon other steps were heard without, and it was discovered thatSergeant-master-tailor Brett and Farrier-extraordinary Johnson wereoutside, having come to fetch Messrs. Buck and Jones, as Buck and Joneshad come to fetch the trumpet-major. 

As there seemed a possibility of Mrs. Garland's small passage beingchoked up with human figures personally unknown to her, she was relievedto hear Anne coming downstairs. 

'Here's my little girl, ' said Mrs. Garland, and the trumpet-major lookedwith a sort of awe upon the muslin apparition who came forward, and stoodquite dumb before her. Anne recognized him as the trooper she had seenfrom her window, and welcomed him kindly. There was something in hishonest face which made her feel instantly at home with him. 

At this frankness of manner Loveday--who was not a ladies' man--blushed, and made some alteration in his bodily posture, began a sentence whichhad no end, and showed quite a boy's embarrassment. Recovering himself, he politely offered his arm, which Anne took with a very pretty grace. Heconducted her through his comrades, who glued themselves perpendicularlyto the wall to let her pass, and then they went out of the door, hermother following with the miller, and supported by the body of troopers, the latter walking with the usual cavalry gait, as if their thighs wererather too long for them. Thus they crossed the threshold of the mill-house and up the passage, the paving of which was worn into a gutter bythe ebb and flow of feet that had been going on there ever since Tudortimes. 

IV. WHO WERE PRESENT AT THE MILLER'S LITTLE ENTERTAINMENT

When the group entered the presence of the company a lull in theconversation was caused by the sight of new visitors, and (of course) bythe charm of Anne's appearance; until the old men, who had daughters oftheir own, perceiving that she was only a half-formed girl, resumed theirtales and toss-potting with unconcern. 

Miller Loveday had fraternized with half the soldiers in the camp sincetheir arrival, and the effect of this upon his party was striking--bothchromatically and otherwise. Those among the guests who first attractedthe eye were the sergeants and sergeant-majors of Loveday's regiment, fine hearty men, who sat facing the candles, entirely resigned tophysical comfort. Then there were other non-commissioned officers, aGerman, two Hungarians, and a Swede, from the foreign hussars--young menwith a look of sadness on their faces, as if they did not much likeserving so far from home. All of them spoke English fairly well. Oldage was represented by Simon Burden the pensioner, and the shady side offifty by Corporal Tullidge, his friend and neighbour, who was hard ofhearing, and sat with his hat on over a red cotton handkerchief that waswound several times round his head. These two veterans were employed aswatchers at the neighbouring beacon, which had lately been erected by theLord-Lieutenant for firing whenever the descent on the coast should bemade. They lived in a little hut on the hill, close by the heap offaggots; but to-night they had found deputies to watch in their stead. 

On a lower plane of experience and qualifications came neighbour JamesComfort, of the Volunteers, a soldier by courtesy, but a blacksmith byrights; also William Tremlett and Anthony Cripplestraw, of the localforces. The two latter men of war were dressed merely as villagers, andlooked upon the regulars from a humble position in the background. Theremainder of the party was made up of a neighbouring dairyman or two, andtheir wives, invited by the miller, as Anne was glad to see, that she andher mother should not be the only women there. 

The elder Loveday apologized in a whisper to Mrs. Garland for thepresence of the inferior villagers. 'But as they are learning to bebrave defenders of their home and country, ma'am, as fast as they canmaster the drill, and have worked for me off and on these many years, I've asked 'em in, and thought you'd excuse it. '

'Certainly, Miller Loveday, ' said the widow. 

'And the same of old Burden and Tullidge. They have served well and longin the Foot, and even now have a hard time of it up at the beacon in wetweather. So after giving them a meal in the kitchen I just asked 'em into hear the singing. They faithfully promise that as soon as ever thegunboats appear in view, and they have fired the beacon, to run down herefirst, in case we shouldn't see it. 'Tis worth while to be friendly with'em, you see, though their tempers be queer. '

'Quite worth while, miller, ' said she. 

Anne was rather embarrassed by the presence of the regular military insuch force, and at first confined her words to the dairymen's wives shewas acquainted with, and to the two old soldiers of the parish. 

'Why didn't ye speak to me afore, chiel?' said one of these, CorporalTullidge, the elderly man with the hat, while she was talking to oldSimon Burden. 'I met ye in the lane yesterday, ' he added reproachfully, 'but ye didn't notice me at all. '

'I am very sorry for it, ' she said; but, being afraid to shout in such acompany, the effect of her remark upon the corporal was as if she had notspoken at all. 

'You was coming along with yer head full of some high notions or other nodoubt, ' continued the uncompromising corporal in the same loud voice. 'Ah, 'tis the young bucks that get all the notice nowadays, and old folksare quite forgot! I can mind well enough how young Bob Loveday used tolie in wait for ye. '

Anne blushed deeply, and stopped his too excursive discourse by hastilysaying that she always respected old folks like him. The corporalthought she inquired why he always kept his hat on, and answered that itwas because his head was injured at Valenciennes, in July, Ninety-three. 'We were trying to bomb down the tower, and a piece of the shell struckme. I was no more nor less than a dead man for two days. If it hadn't abeen for that and my smashed arm I should have come home none the worsefor my five-and-twenty years' service. '

'You have got a silver plate let into yer head, haven't ye, corpel?' saidAnthony Cripplestraw, who had drawn near. 'I have heard that the waythey morticed yer skull was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Perhapsthe young woman would like to see the place? 'Tis a curious sight, Mis'ess Anne; you don't see such a wownd every day. '

'No, thank you, ' said Anne hurriedly, dreading, as did all the youngpeople of Overcombe, the spectacle of the corporal uncovered. He hadnever been seen in public without the hat and the handkerchief since hisreturn in Ninety-four; and strange stories were told of the ghastlinessof his appearance bare-headed, a little boy who had accidentally beheldhim going to bed in that state having been frightened into fits. 

'Well, if the young woman don't want to see yer head, maybe she'd like tohear yer arm?' continued Cripplestraw, earnest to please her. 

'Hey?' said the corporal. 

'Your arm hurt too?' cried Anne. 

'Knocked to a pummy at the same time as my head, ' said Tullidgedispassionately. 

'Rattle yer arm, corpel, and show her, ' said Cripplestraw. 

'Yes, sure, ' said the corporal, raising the limb slowly, as if the gloryof exhibition had lost some of its novelty, though he was willing tooblige. Twisting it mercilessly about with his right hand he produced acrunching among the bones at every motion, Cripplestraw seeming to derivegreat satisfaction from the ghastly sound. 

'How very shocking!' said Anne, painfully anxious for him to leave off. 

'O, it don't hurt him, bless ye. Do it, corpel?' said Cripplestraw. 

'Not a bit, ' said the corporal, still working his arm with great energy. 

'There's no life in the bones at all. No life in 'em, I tell her, corpel!'

'None at all. '

'They be as loose as a bag of ninepins, ' explained Cripplestraw incontinuation. 'You can feel 'em quite plain, Mis'ess Anne. If ye wouldlike to, he'll undo his sleeve in a minute to oblege ye?'

'O no, no, please not! I quite understand, ' said the young woman. 

'Do she want to hear or see any more, or don't she?' the corporalinquired, with a sense that his time was getting wasted. 

Anne explained that she did not on any account; and managed to escapefrom the corner. 

V. THE SONG AND THE STRANGER

The trumpet-major now contrived to place himself near her, Anne'spresence having evidently been a great pleasure to him since the momentof his first seeing her. She was quite at her ease with him, and askedhim if he thought that Buonaparte would really come during the summer, and many other questions which the gallant dragoon could not answer, butwhich he nevertheless liked to be asked. William Tremlett, who had notenjoyed a sound night's rest since the First Consul's menace had becomeknown, pricked up his ears at sound of this subject, and inquired ifanybody had seen the terrible flat-bottomed boats that the enemy were tocross in. 

'My brother Robert saw several of them paddling about the shore the lasttime he passed the Straits of Dover, ' said the trumpet-major; and hefurther startled the company by informing them that there were supposedto be more than fifteen hundred of these boats, and that they would carrya hundred men apiece. So that a descent of one hundred and fiftythousand men might be expected any day as soon as Boney had brought hisplans to bear. 

'Lord ha' mercy upon us!' said William Tremlett. 

'The night-time is when they will try it, if they try it at all, ' saidold Tullidge, in the tone of one whose watch at the beacon must, in thenature of things, have given him comprehensive views of the situation. 'It is my belief that the point they will choose for making the shore isjust over there, ' and he nodded with indifference towards a section ofthe coast at a hideous nearness to the house in which they wereassembled, whereupon Fencible Tremlett, and Cripplestraw of the Locals, tried to show no signs of trepidation. 

'When d'ye think 'twill be?' said Volunteer Comfort, the blacksmith. 

'I can't answer to a day, ' said the corporal, 'but it will certainly bein a down-channel tide; and instead of pulling hard against it, he'll lethis boats drift, and that will bring 'em right into Budmouth Bay. 'Twillbe a beautiful stroke of war, if so be 'tis quietly done!'

'Beautiful, ' said Cripplestraw, moving inside his clothes. 'But how ifwe should be all abed, corpel? You can't expect a man to be brave in hisshirt, especially we Locals, that have only got so far as shoulder fire-locks. '

'He's not coming this summer. He'll never come at all, ' said a tallsergeant-major decisively. 

Loveday the soldier was too much engaged in attending upon Anne and hermother to join in these surmises, bestirring himself to get the ladiessome of the best liquor the house afforded, which had, as a matter offact, crossed the Channel as privately as Buonaparte wished his army todo, and had been landed on a dark night over the cliff. After this heasked Anne to sing, but though she had a very pretty voice in privateperformances of that nature, she declined to oblige him; turning thesubject by making a hesitating inquiry about his brother Robert, whom hehad mentioned just before. 

'Robert is as well as ever, thank you, Miss Garland, ' he said. 'He isnow mate of the brig Pewit--rather young for such a command; but theowner puts great trust in him. ' The trumpet-major added, deepening histhoughts to a profounder view of the person discussed, 'Bob is in love. '

Anne looked conscious, and listened attentively; but Loveday did not goon. 

'Much?' she asked. 

'I can't exactly say. And the strange part of it is that he never tellsus who the woman is. Nobody knows at all. '

'He will tell, of course?' said Anne, in the remote tone of a person withwhose sex such matters had no connexion whatever. 

Loveday shook his head, and the tete-a-tete was put an end to by a burstof singing from one of the sergeants, who was followed at the end of hissong by others, each giving a ditty in his turn; the singer standing upin front of the table, stretching his chin well into the air, as thoughto abstract every possible wrinkle from his throat, and then plunginginto the melody. When this was over one of the foreign hussars--thegenteel German of Miller Loveday's description, who called himself aHungarian, and in reality belonged to no definite country--performed atTrumpet-major Loveday's request the series of wild motions that hedenominated his national dance, that Anne might see what it was like. Miss Garland was the flower of the whole company; the soldiers one andall, foreign and English, seemed to be quite charmed by her presence, asindeed they well might be, considering how seldom they came into thesociety of such as she. 

Anne and her mother were just thinking of retiring to their own dwellingwhen Sergeant Stanner of the --th Foot, who was recruiting at Budmouth, began a satirical song:--

 When law'-yers strive' to heal' a breach', And par-sons prac'-tise what' they preach'; Then lit'-tle Bo-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!

 Chorus. --Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. 

 When jus'-ti-ces' hold e'qual scales', And rogues' are on'-ly found' in jails'; Then lit'tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!

 Chorus. --Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. 

 When rich' men find' their wealth' a curse', And fill' there-with' the poor' man's purse'; Then lit'-tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!

 Chorus. --Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. 

Poor Stanner! In spite of his satire, he fell at the bloody battle ofAlbuera a few years after this pleasantly spent summer at the Georgianwatering-place, being mortally wounded and trampled down by a Frenchhussar when the brigade was deploying into line under Beresford. 

While Miller Loveday was saying 'Well done, Mr. Stanner!' at the close ofthe thirteenth stanza, which seemed to be the last, and Mr. Stanner wasmodestly expressing his regret that he could do no better, a stentorianvoice was heard outside the window shutter repeating, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. 

The company was silent in a moment at this reinforcement, and only themilitary tried not to look surprised. While all wondered who the singercould be somebody entered the porch; the door opened, and in came a youngman, about the size and weight of the Farnese Hercules, in the uniform ofthe yeomanry cavalry. 

''Tis young Squire Derriman, old Mr. Derriman's nephew, ' murmured voicesin the background. 

Without waiting to address anybody, or apparently seeing who weregathered there, the colossal man waved his cap above his head and went onin tones that shook the window-panes:--

 When hus'-bands with' their wives' agree'. And maids' won't wed' from mod'-es-ty', Then lit'-tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!

 Chorus. --Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay. 

It was a verse which had been omitted by the gallant Stanner, out ofrespect to the ladies. 

The new-comer was red-haired and of florid complexion, and seemed full ofa conviction that his whim of entering must be their pleasure, which forthe moment it was. 

'No ceremony, good men all, ' he said; 'I was passing by, and my ear wascaught by the singing. I like singing; 'tis warming and cheering, andshall not be put down. I should like to hear anybody say otherwise. '

'Welcome, Master Derriman, ' said the miller, filling a glass and handingit to the yeoman. 'Come all the way from quarters, then? I hardlyknowed ye in your soldier's clothes. You'd look more natural with a spudin your hand, sir. I shouldn't ha' known ye at all if I hadn't heardthat you were called out. '

'More natural with a spud!--have a care, miller, ' said the young giant, the fire of his complexion increasing to scarlet. 'I don't mean anger, but--but--a soldier's honour, you know!'

The military in the background laughed a little, and the yeoman then forthe first time discovered that there were more regulars present than one. He looked momentarily disconcerted, but expanded again to full assurance. 

'Right, right, Master Derriman, no offence--'twas only my joke, ' said thegenial miller. 'Everybody's a soldier nowadays. Drink a drap o' thiscordial, and don't mind words. '

The young man drank without the least reluctance, and said, 'Yes, miller, I am called out. 'Tis ticklish times for us soldiers now; we hold ourlives in our hands--What are those fellows grinning at behind thetable?--I say, we do!'

'Staying with your uncle at the farm for a day or two, Mr. Derriman?'

'No, no; as I told you, six mile off. Billeted at Casterbridge. But Ihave to call and see the old, old--'

'Gentleman?'

'Gentleman!--no, skinflint. He lives upon the sweepings of the barton;ha, ha!' And the speaker's regular white teeth showed themselves likesnow in a Dutch cabbage. 'Well, well, the profession of arms makes a manproof against all that. I take things as I find 'em. '

'Quite right, Master Derriman. Another drop?'

'No, no. I'll take no more than is good for me--no man should; so don'ttempt me. '

The yeoman then saw Anne, and by an unconscious gravitation went towardsher and the other women, flinging a remark to John Loveday in passing. 'Ah, Loveday! I heard you were come; in short, I come o' purpose to seeyou. Glad to see you enjoying yourself at home again. '

The trumpet-major replied civilly, though not without grimness, for heseemed hardly to like Derriman's motion towards Anne. 

'Widow Garland's daughter!--yes, 'tis! surely. You remember me? I havebeen here before. Festus Derriman, Yeomanry Cavalry. '

Anne gave a little curtsey. 'I know your name is Festus--that's all. '

'Yes, 'tis well known--especially latterly. ' He dropped his voice toconfidence pitch. 'I suppose your friends here are disturbed by mycoming in, as they don't seem to talk much? I don't mean to interruptthe party; but I often find that people are put out by my coming among'em, especially when I've got my regimentals on. '

'La! and are they?'

'Yes; 'tis the way I have. ' He further lowered his tone, as if they hadbeen old friends, though in reality he had only seen her three or fourtimes. 'And how did you come to be here? Dash my wig, I don't like tosee a nice young lady like you in this company. You should come to someof our yeomanry sprees in Casterbridge or Shottsford-Forum. O, but thegirls do come! The yeomanry are respected men, men of good substantialfamilies, many farming their own land; and every one among us rides hisown charger, which is more than these cussed fellows do. ' He noddedtowards the dragoons. 

'Hush, hush! Why, these are friends and neighbours of Miller Loveday, and he is a great friend of ours--our best friend, ' said Anne with greatemphasis, and reddening at the sense of injustice to their host. 'Whatare you thinking of, talking like that? It is ungenerous in you. '

'Ha, ha! I've affronted you. Isn't that it, fair angel, fair--what doyou call it?--fair vestal? Ah, well! would you was safe in my own house!But honour must be minded now, not courting. Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum. Pardon me, my sweet, I like ye! It may be a come down for me, owning land; but I do like ye. '

'Sir, please be quiet, ' said Anne, distressed. 

'I will, I will. Well, Corporal Tullidge, how's your head?' he said, going towards the other end of the room, and leaving Anne to herself. 

The company had again recovered its liveliness, and it was a long timebefore the bouncing Rufus who had joined them could find heart to tearhimself away from their society and good liquors, although he had hadquite enough of the latter before he entered. The natives received himat his own valuation, and the soldiers of the camp, who sat beyond thetable, smiled behind their pipes at his remarks, with a pleasant twinkleof the eye which approached the satirical, John Loveday being not theleast conspicuous in this bearing. But he and his friends were toocourteous on such an occasion as the present to challenge the young man'slarge remarks, and readily permitted him to set them right on the detailsof camping and other military routine, about which the troopers seemedwilling to let persons hold any opinion whatever, provided that theythemselves were not obliged to give attention to it; showing, strangelyenough, that if there was one subject more than another which neverinterested their minds, it was the art of war. To them the art ofenjoying good company in Overcombe Mill, the details of the miller'shousehold, the swarming of his bees, the number of his chickens, and thefatness of his pigs, were matters of infinitely greater concern. 

The present writer, to whom this party has been described times out ofnumber by members of the Loveday family and other aged people now passedaway, can never enter the old living-room of Overcombe Mill withoutbeholding the genial scene through the mists of the seventy or eightyyears that intervene between then and now. First and brightest to theeye are the dozen candles, scattered about regardless of expense, andkept well snuffed by the miller, who walks round the room at intervals offive minutes, snuffers in hand, and nips each wick with great precision, and with something of an executioner's grim look upon his face as hecloses the snuffers upon the neck of the candle. Next to thecandle-light show the red and blue coats and white breeches of thesoldiers--nearly twenty of them in all besides the ponderous Derriman--thehead of the latter, and, indeed, the heads of all who are standing up, being in dangerous proximity to the black beams of the ceiling. There isnot one among them who would attach any meaning to 'Vittoria, ' or gatherfrom the syllables 'Waterloo' the remotest idea of his own glory ordeath. Next appears the correct and innocent Anne, little thinking whatthings Time has in store for her at no great distance off. She looks atDerriman with a half-uneasy smile as he clanks hither and thither, andhopes he will not single her out again to hold a private dialoguewith--which, however, he does, irresistibly attracted by the white muslinfigure. She must, of course, look a little gracious again now, lest hismood should turn from sentimental to quarrelsome--no impossiblecontingency with the yeoman-soldier, as her quick perception had noted. 

'Well, well; this idling won't do for me, folks, ' he at last said, toAnne's relief. 'I ought not to have come in, by rights; but I heard youenjoying yourselves, and thought it might be worth while to see what youwere up to; I have several miles to go before bedtime;' and stretchinghis arms, lifting his chin, and shaking his head, to eradicate anyunseemly curve or wrinkle from his person, the yeoman wished them an off-hand good-night, and departed. 

'You should have teased him a little more, father, ' said thetrumpet-major drily. 'You could soon have made him as crabbed as abear. '

'I didn't want to provoke the chap--'twasn't worth while. He came infriendly enough, ' said the gentle miller without looking up. 

'I don't think he was overmuch friendly, ' said John. 

''Tis as well to be neighbourly with folks, if they be not quiteonbearable, ' his father genially replied, as he took off his coat to goand draw more ale--this periodical stripping to the shirt-sleeves beingnecessitated by the narrowness of the cellar and the smeary effect of itsnumerous cobwebs upon best clothes. 

Some of the guests then spoke of Fess Derriman as not such a bad youngman if you took him right and humoured him; others said that he wasnobody's enemy but his own; and the elder ladies mentioned in a tone ofinterest that he was likely to come into a deal of money at his uncle'sdeath. The person who did not praise was the one who knew him best, whohad known him as a boy years ago, when he had lived nearer to Overcombethan he did at present. This unappreciative person was thetrumpet-major. 

VI. OLD MR. DERRIMAN OF OXWELL HALL

At this time in the history of Overcombe one solitary newspaperoccasionally found its way into the village. It was lent by thepostmaster at Budmouth (who, in some mysterious way, got it for nothingthrough his connexion with the mail) to Mr. Derriman at the Hall, by whomit was handed on to Mrs. Garland when it was not more than a fortnightold. Whoever remembers anything about the old farmer-squire will, ofcourse, know well enough that this delightful privilege of readinghistory in long columns was not accorded to the Widow Garland fornothing. It was by such ingenuous means that he paid her for herdaughter's occasional services in reading aloud to him and making out hisaccounts, in which matters the farmer, whose guineas were reported totouch five figures--some said more--was not expert. 

Mrs. Martha Garland, as a respectable widow, occupied a twilight rankbetween the benighted villagers and the well-informed gentry, and kindlymade herself useful to the former as letter-writer and reader, andgeneral translator from the printing tongue. It was not withoutsatisfaction that she stood at her door of an evening, newspaper in hand, with three or four cottagers standing round, and poured down their openthroats any paragraph that she might choose to select from the stirringones of the period. When she had done with the sheet Mrs. Garland passedit on to the miller, the miller to the grinder, and the grinder to thegrinder's boy, in whose hands it became subdivided into half pages, quarter pages, and irregular triangles, and ended its career as a papercap, a flagon bung, or a wrapper for his bread and cheese. 

Notwithstanding his compact with Mrs. Garland, old Mr. Derriman kept thepaper so long, and was so chary of wasting his man's time on a merelyintellectual errand, that unless she sent for the journal it seldomreached her hands. Anne was always her messenger. The arrival of thesoldiers led Mrs. Garland to despatch her daughter for it the day afterthe party; and away she went in her hat and pelisse, in a direction atright angles to that of the encampment on the hill. 

Walking across the fields for the distance of a mile or two, she came outupon the high-road by a wicket-gate. On the other side of the way wasthe entrance to what at first sight looked like a neglected meadow, thegate being a rotten one, without a bottom rail, and broken-down palingslying on each side. The dry hard mud of the opening was marked withseveral horse and cow tracks, that had been half obliterated by fiftyscore sheep tracks, surcharged with the tracks of a man and a dog. Beyondthis geological record appeared a carriage-road, nearly grown over withgrass, which Anne followed. It descended by a gentle slope, dived underdark-rinded elm and chestnut trees, and conducted her on till the hiss ofa waterfall and the sound of the sea became audible, when it took a bendround a swamp of fresh watercress and brooklime that had once been a fishpond. Here the grey, weather-worn front of a building edged from behindthe trees. It was Oxwell Hall, once the seat of a family now extinct, and of late years used as a farmhouse. 

Benjamin Derriman, who owned the crumbling place, had originally beenonly the occupier and tenant-farmer of the fields around. His wife hadbrought him a small fortune, and during the growth of their only sonthere had been a partition of the Oxwell estate, giving the farmer, now awidower, the opportunity of acquiring the building and a small portion ofthe land attached on exceptionally low terms. But two years after thepurchase the boy died, and Derriman's existence was paralyzed forthwith. It was said that since that event he had devised the house and fields toa distant female relative, to keep them out of the hands of his detestednephew; but this was not certainly known. 

The hall was as interesting as mansions in a state of declension usuallyare, as the excellent county history showed. That popular work in foliocontained an old plate dedicated to the last scion of the originalowners, from which drawing it appeared that in 1750, the date ofpublication, the windows were covered with little scratches like blackflashes of lightning; that a horn of hard smoke came out of each of thetwelve chimneys; that a lady and a lap-dog stood on the lawn in astrenuously walking position; and a substantial cloud and nine flyingbirds of no known species hung over the trees to the north-east. 

The rambling and neglected dwelling had all the romantic excellencies andpractical drawbacks which such mildewed places share in common withcaves, mountains, wildernesses, glens, and other homes of poesy thatpeople of taste wish to live and die in. Mustard and cress could havebeen raised on the inner plaster of the dewy walls at any height notexceeding three feet from the floor; and mushrooms of the most refinedand thin-stemmed kinds grew up through the chinks of the larder paving. As for the outside, Nature, in the ample time that had been given her, had so mingled her filings and effacements with the marks of human wearand tear upon the house, that it was often hard to say in which of thetwo or if in both, any particular obliteration had its origin. Thekeenness was gone from the mouldings of the doorways, but whether wornout by the rubbing past of innumerable people's shoulders, and the movingof their heavy furniture, or by Time in a grander and more abstract form, did not appear. The iron stanchions inside the window-panes were eatenaway to the size of wires at the bottom where they entered the stone, thecondensed breathings of generations having settled there in pools andrusted them. The panes themselves had either lost their shine altogetheror become iridescent as a peacock's tail. In the middle of the porch wasa vertical sun-dial, whose gnomon swayed loosely about when the windblew, and cast its shadow hither and thither, as much as to say, 'Here'syour fine model dial; here's any time for any man; I am an old dial; andshiftiness is the best policy. '

Anne passed under the arched gateway which screened the main front; overit was the porter's lodge, reached by a spiral staircase. Across thearchway was fixed a row of wooden hurdles, one of which Anne opened andclosed behind her. Their necessity was apparent as soon as she gotinside. The quadrangle of the ancient pile was a bed of mud and manure, inhabited by calves, geese, ducks, and sow pigs surprisingly large, withyoung ones surprisingly small. In the groined porch some heifers wereamusing themselves by stretching up their necks and licking the carvedstone capitals that supported the vaulting. Anne went on to a second andopen door, across which was another hurdle to keep the live stock fromabsolute community with the inmates. There being no knocker, she knockedby means of a short stick which was laid against the post for thatpurpose; but nobody attending, she entered the passage, and tried aninner door. 

A slight noise was heard inside, the door opened about an inch, and astrip of decayed face, including the eye and some forehead wrinkles, appeared within the crevice. 

'Please I have come for the paper, ' said Anne. 

'O, is it you, dear Anne?' whined the inmate, opening the door a littlefurther. 'I could hardly get to the door to open it, I am so weak. '

The speaker was a wizened old gentleman, in a coat the colour of hisfarmyard, breeches of the same hue, unbuttoned at the knees, revealing abit of leg above his stocking and a dazzlingly white shirt-frill tocompensate for this untidiness below. The edge of his skull round hiseye-sockets was visible through the skin, and he had a mouth whosecorners made towards the back of his head on the slightest provocation. He walked with great apparent difficulty back into the room, Annefollowing him. 

'Well, you can have the paper if you want it; but you never give me muchtime to see what's in en! Here's the paper. ' He held it out, but beforeshe could take it he drew it back again, saying, 'I have not had my shareo' the paper by a good deal, what with my weak sight, and people comingso soon for en. I am a poor put-upon soul; but my "Duty of Man" will beleft to me when the newspaper is gone. ' And he sank into his chair withan air of exhaustion. 

Anne said that she did not wish to take the paper if he had not done withit, and that she was really later in the week than usual, owing to thesoldiers. 

'Soldiers, yes--rot the soldiers! And now hedges will be broke, andhens' nests robbed, and sucking-pigs stole, and I don't know what all. Who's to pay for't, sure? I reckon that because the soldiers be come youdon't mean to be kind enough to read to me what I hadn't time to readmyself. '

She would read if he wished, she said; she was in no hurry. And sittingherself down she unfolded the paper. 

'"Dinner at Carlton House"?'

'No, faith. 'Tis nothing to I. '

'"Defence of the country"?'

'Ye may read that if ye will. I hope there will be no billeting in thisparish, or any wild work of that sort; for what would a poor old lamigerlike myself do with soldiers in his house, and nothing to feed 'em with?'

Anne began reading, and continued at her task nearly ten minutes, whenshe was interrupted by the appearance in the quadrangular slough withoutof a large figure in the uniform of the yeomanry cavalry. 

'What do you see out there?' said the farmer with a start, as she pausedand slowly blushed. 

'A soldier--one of the yeomanry, ' said Anne, not quite at her ease. 

'Scrounch it all--'tis my nephew!' exclaimed the old man, his faceturning to a phosphoric pallor, and his body twitching with innumerablealarms as he formed upon his face a gasping smile of joy, with which towelcome the new-coming relative. 'Read on, prithee, Miss Garland. '

Before she had read far the visitor straddled over the door-hurdle intothe passage and entered the room. 

'Well, nunc, how do you feel?' said the giant, shaking hands with thefarmer in the manner of one violently ringing a hand-bell. 'Glad to seeyou. '

'Bad and weakish, Festus, ' replied the other, his person respondingpassively to the rapid vibrations imparted. 'O, be tender, please--alittle softer, there's a dear nephew! My arm is no more than a cobweb. '

'Ah, poor soul!'

'Yes, I am not much more than a skeleton, and can't bear rough usage. '

'Sorry to hear that; but I'll bear your affliction in mind. Why, you areall in a tremble, Uncle Benjy!'

''Tis because I am so gratified, ' said the old man. 'I always get all ina tremble when I am taken by surprise by a beloved relation. '

'Ah, that's it!' said the yeoman, bringing his hand down on the back ofhis uncle's chair with a loud smack, at which Uncle Benjy nervouslysprang three inches from his seat and dropped into it again. 'Ask yourpardon for frightening ye, uncle. 'Tis how we do in the army, and Iforgot your nerves. You have scarcely expected to see me, I dare say, but here I am. '

'I am glad to see ye. You are not going to stay long, perhaps?'

'Quite the contrary. I am going to stay ever so long!'

'O I see! I am so glad, dear Festus. Ever so long, did ye say?'

'Yes, _ever_ so long, ' said the young gentleman, sitting on the slope ofthe bureau and stretching out his legs as props. 'I am going to makethis quite my own home whenever I am off duty, as long as we stay out. And after that, when the campaign is over in the autumn, I shall comehere, and live with you like your own son, and help manage your land andyour farm, you know, and make you a comfortable old man. '

'Ah! How you do please me!' said the farmer, with a horrified smile, andgrasping the arms of his chair to sustain himself. 

'Yes; I have been meaning to come a long time, as I knew you'd like tohave me, Uncle Benjy; and 'tisn't in my heart to refuse you. '

'You always was kind that way!'

'Yes; I always was. But I ought to tell you at once, not to disappointyou, that I shan't be here always--all day, that is, because of mymilitary duties as a cavalry man. '

'O, not always? That's a pity!' exclaimed the farmer with a cheerfuleye. 

'I knew you'd say so. And I shan't be able to sleep here at nightsometimes, for the same reason. '

'Not sleep here o' nights?' said the old gentleman, still more relieved. 'You ought to sleep here--you certainly ought; in short, you must. Butyou can't!'

'Not while we are with the colours. But directly that's over--the verynext day--I'll stay here all day, and all night too, to oblige you, sinceyou ask me so very kindly. '

'Th-thank ye, that will be very nice!' said Uncle Benjy. 

'Yes, I knew 'twould relieve ye. ' And he kindly stroked his uncle'shead, the old man expressing his enjoyment at the affectionate token by adeath's-head grimace. 'I should have called to see you the other nightwhen I passed through here, ' Festus continued; 'but it was so late that Icouldn't come so far out of my way. You won't think it unkind?'

'Not at all, if you _couldn't_. I never shall think it unkind if youreally _can't_ come, you know, Festy. ' There was a few minutes' pause, and as the nephew said nothing Uncle Benjy went on: 'I wish I had alittle present for ye. But as ill-luck would have it we have lost a dealof stock this year, and I have had to pay away so much. '

'Poor old man--I know you have. Shall I lend you a seven-shilling piece, Uncle Benjy?'

'Ha, ha!--you must have your joke; well, I'll think o' that. And so theyexpect Buonaparty to choose this very part of the coast for his landing, hey? And that the yeomanry be to stand in front as the forlorn hope?'

'Who says so?' asked the florid son of Mars, losing a little redness. 

'The newspaper-man. '

'O, there's nothing in that, ' said Festus bravely. 'The gover'mentthought it possible at one time; but they don't know. '

Festus turned himself as he talked, and now said abruptly: 'Ah, who'sthis? Why, 'tis our little Anne!' He had not noticed her till thismoment, the young woman having at his entry kept her face over thenewspaper, and then got away to the back part of the room. 'And are youand your mother always going to stay down there in the mill-housewatching the little fishes, Miss Anne?'

She said that it was uncertain, in a tone of truthful precision which thequestion was hardly worth, looking forcedly at him as she spoke. But sheblushed fitfully, in her arms and hands as much as in her face. Not thatshe was overpowered by the great boots, formidable spurs, and otherfierce appliances of his person, as he imagined; simply she had not beenprepared to meet him there. 

'I hope you will, I am sure, for my own good, ' said he, letting his eyeslinger on the round of her cheek. 

Anne became a little more dignified, and her look showed reserve. Butthe yeoman on perceiving this went on talking to her in so civil a waythat he irresistibly amused her, though she tried to conceal all feeling. At a brighter remark of his than usual her mouth moved, her upper lipplaying uncertainly over her white teeth; it would stay still--no, itwould withdraw a little way in a smile; then it would flutter down again;and so it wavered like a butterfly in a tender desire to be pleased andsmiling, and yet to be also sedate and composed; to show him that she didnot want compliments, and yet that she was not so cold as to wish torepress any genuine feeling he might be anxious to utter. 

'Shall you want any more reading, Mr. Derriman?' said she, interruptingthe younger man in his remarks. 'If not, I'll go homeward. '

'Don't let me hinder you longer, ' said Festus. 'I'm off in a minute ortwo, when your man has cleaned my boots. '

'Ye don't hinder us, nephew. She must have the paper: 'tis the day forher to have 'n. She might read a little more, as I have had so littleprofit out o' en hitherto. Well, why don't ye speak? Will ye, or won'tye, my dear?'

'Not to two, ' she said. 

'Ho, ho! damn it, I must go then, I suppose, ' said Festus, laughing; andunable to get a further glance from her he left the room and clanked intothe back yard, where he saw a man; holding up his hand he cried, 'AnthonyCripplestraw!'

Cripplestraw came up in a trot, moved a lock of his hair and replaced it, and said, 'Yes, Maister Derriman. ' He was old Mr. Derriman's odd hand inthe yard and garden, and like his employer had no great pretensions tomanly beauty, owing to a limpness of backbone and speciality of mouth, which opened on one side only, giving him a triangular smile. 

'Well, Cripplestraw, how is it to-day?' said Festus, withsocially-superior heartiness. 

'Middlin', considering, Maister Derriman. And how's yerself?'

'Fairish. Well, now, see and clean these military boots of mine. I'llcock my foot up on this bench. This pigsty of my uncle's is not fit fora soldier to come into. '

'Yes, Maister Derriman, I will. No, 'tis not fit, Maister Derriman. '

'What stock has uncle lost this year, Cripplestraw?'

'Well, let's see, sir. I can call to mind that we've lost threechickens, a tom-pigeon, and a weakly sucking-pig, one of a fare of ten. Ican't think of no more, Maister Derriman. '

'H'm, not a large quantity of cattle. The old rascal!'

'No, 'tis not a large quantity. Old what did you say, sir?'

'O nothing. He's within there. ' Festus flung his forehead in thedirection of a right line towards the inner apartment. 'He's a regularsniche one. '

'Hee, hee; fie, fie, Master Derriman!' said Cripplestraw, shaking hishead in delighted censure. 'Gentlefolks shouldn't talk so. And anofficer, Mr. Derriman! 'Tis the duty of all cavalry gentlemen to bear inmind that their blood is a knowed thing in the country, and not to speakill o't. '

'He's close-fisted. '

'Well, maister, he is--I own he is a little. 'Tis the nater of some oldvenerable gentlemen to be so. We'll hope he'll treat ye well in yerfortune, sir. '

'Hope he will. Do people talk about me here, Cripplestraw?' asked theyeoman, as the other continued busy with his boots. 

'Well, yes, sir; they do off and on, you know. They says you be as finea piece of calvery flesh and bones as was ever growed on fallow-ground;in short, all owns that you be a fine fellow, sir. I wish I wasn't nomore afraid of the French than you be; but being in the Locals, MaisterDerriman, I assure ye I dream of having to defend my country every night;and I don't like the dream at all. '

'You should take it careless, Cripplestraw, as I do; and 'twould sooncome natural to you not to mind it at all. Well, a fine fellow is noteverything, you know. O no. There's as good as I in the army, and evenbetter. '

'And they say that when you fall this summer, you'll die like a man. '

'When I fall?'

'Yes, sure, Maister Derriman. Poor soul o' thee! I shan't forget 'ee asyou lie mouldering in yer soldier's grave. '

'Hey?' said the warrior uneasily. 'What makes 'em think I am going tofall?'

'Well, sir, by all accounts the yeomanry will be put in front. '

'Front! That's what my uncle has been saying. '

'Yes, and by all accounts 'tis true. And naterelly they'll be mowed downlike grass; and you among 'em, poor young galliant officer!'

'Look here, Cripplestraw. This is a reg'lar foolish report. How canyeomanry be put in front? Nobody's put in front. We yeomanry havenothing to do with Buonaparte's landing. We shall be away in a safeplace, guarding the possessions and jewels. Now, can you see, Cripplestraw, any way at all that the yeomanry can be put in front? Doyou think they really can?'

'Well, maister, I am afraid I do, ' said the cheering Cripplestraw. 'AndI know a great warrior like you is only too glad o' the chance. 'Twillbe a great thing for ye, death and glory! In short, I hope from my heartyou will be, and I say so very often to folk--in fact, I pray at nightfor't. '

'O! cuss you! you needn't pray about it. '

'No, Maister Derriman, I won't. '

'Of course my sword will do its duty. That's enough. And now be offwith ye. '

Festus gloomily returned to his uncle's room and found that Anne was justleaving. He was inclined to follow her at once, but as she gave him noopportunity for doing this he went to the window, and remained tappinghis fingers against the shutter while she crossed the yard. 

'Well, nephy, you are not gone yet?' said the farmer, looking dubiouslyat Festus from under one eyelid. 'You see how I am. Not by any meansbetter, you see; so I can't entertain 'ee as well as I would. '

'You can't, nunc, you can't. I don't think you are worse--if I do, dashmy wig. But you'll have plenty of opportunities to make me welcome whenyou are better. If you are not so brisk inwardly as you was, why not trychange of air? This is a dull, damp hole. '

''Tis, Festus; and I am thinking of moving. '

'Ah, where to?' said Festus, with surprise and interest. 

'Up into the garret in the north corner. There is no fireplace in theroom; but I shan't want that, poor soul o' me. '

''Tis not moving far. '

''Tis not. But I have not a soul belonging to me within ten mile; andyou know very well that I couldn't afford to go to lodgings that I had topay for. '

'I know it--I know it, Uncle Benjy! Well, don't be disturbed. I'll comeand manage for you as soon as ever this Boney alarm is over; but when aman's country calls he must obey, if he is a man. '

'A splendid spirit!' said Uncle Benjy, with much admiration on thesurface of his countenance. 'I never had it. How could it have got intothe boy?'

'From my mother's side, perhaps. '

'Perhaps so. Well, take care of yourself, nephy, ' said the farmer, waving his hand impressively. 'Take care! In these warlike times yourspirit may carry ye into the arms of the enemy; and you are the last ofthe family. You should think of this, and not let your bravery carry yeaway. '

'Don't be disturbed, uncle; I'll control myself, ' said Festus, betrayedinto self-complacency against his will. 'At least I'll do what I can, but nature will out sometimes. Well, I'm off. ' He began humming'Brighton Camp, ' and, promising to come again soon, retired withassurance, each yard of his retreat adding private joyousness to hisuncle's form. 

When the bulky young man had disappeared through the porter's lodge, Uncle Benjy showed preternatural activity for one in his invalid state, jumping up quickly without his stick, at the same time opening andshutting his mouth quite silently like a thirsty frog, which was his wayof expressing mirth. He ran upstairs as quick as an old squirrel, andwent to a dormer window which commanded a view of the grounds beyond thegate, and the footpath that stretched across them to the village. 

'Yes, yes!' he said in a suppressed scream, dancing up and down, 'he'safter her: she've hit en!' For there appeared upon the path the figureof Anne Garland, and, hastening on at some little distance behind her, the swaggering shape of Festus. She became conscious of his approach, and moved more quickly. He moved more quickly still, and overtook her. She turned as if in answer to a call from him, and he walked on besideher, till they were out of sight. The old man then played upon animaginary fiddle for about half a minute; and, suddenly discontinuingthese signs of pleasure, went downstairs again. 

VII. HOW THEY TALKED IN THE PASTURES

'You often come this way?' said Festus to Anne rather before he hadovertaken her. 

'I come for the newspaper and other things, ' she said, perplexed by adoubt whether he were there by accident or design. 

They moved on in silence, Festus beating the grass with his switch in amasterful way. 'Did you speak, Mis'ess Anne?' he asked. 

'No, ' said Anne. 

'Ten thousand pardons. I thought you did. Now don't let me drive youout of the path. I can walk among the high grass and giltycups--theywill not yellow my stockings as they will yours. Well, what do you thinkof a lot of soldiers coming to the neighbourhood in this way?'

'I think it is very lively, and a great change, ' she said with demureseriousness. 

'Perhaps you don't like us warriors as a body?'

Anne smiled without replying. 

'Why, you are laughing!' said the yeoman, looking searchingly at her andblushing like a little fire. 'What do you see to laugh at?'

'Did I laugh?' said Anne, a little scared at his sudden mortification. 

'Why, yes; you know you did, you young sneerer, ' he said like a crossbaby. 'You are laughing at me--that's who you are laughing at! I shouldlike to know what you would do without such as me if the French were todrop in upon ye any night?'

'Would you help to beat them off?' said she. 

'Can you ask such a question? What are we for? But you don't thinkanything of soldiers. '

O yes, she liked soldiers, she said, especially when they came home fromthe wars, covered with glory; though when she thought what doings had wonthem that glory she did not like them quite so well. The gallant andappeased yeoman said he supposed her to mean chopping off heads, blowingout brains, and that kind of business, and thought it quite right that atender-hearted thing like her should feel a little horrified. But as forhim, he should not mind such another Blenheim this summer as the army hadfought a hundred years ago, or whenever it was--dash his wig if he shouldmind it at all. 'Hullo! now you are laughing again; yes, I saw you!' Andthe choleric Festus turned his blue eyes and flushed face upon her asthough he would read her through. Anne strove valiantly to look calmlyback; but her eyes could not face his, and they fell. 'You did laugh!'he repeated. 

'It was only a tiny little one, ' she murmured. 

'Ah--I knew you did!' thundered he. 'Now what was it you laughed at?'

'I only--thought that you were--merely in the yeomanry, ' she murmuredslily. 

'And what of that?'

'And the yeomanry only seem farmers that have lost their senses. '

'Yes, yes! I knew you meant some jeering o' that sort, Mistress Anne. But I suppose 'tis the way of women, and I take no notice. I'll confessthat some of us are no great things: but I know how to draw a sword, don't I?--say I don't just to provoke me. '

'I am sure you do, ' said Anne sweetly. 'If a Frenchman came up to you, Mr. Derriman, would you take him on the hip, or on the thigh?'

'Now you are flattering!' he said, his white teeth uncovering themselvesin a smile. 'Well, of course I should draw my sword--no, I mean my swordwould be already drawn; and I should put spurs to my horse--charger, aswe call it in the army; and I should ride up to him and say--no, Ishouldn't say anything, of course--men never waste words in battle; Ishould take him with the third guard, low point, and then coming back tothe second guard--'

'But that would be taking care of yourself--not hitting at him. '

'How can you say that!' he cried, the beams upon his face turning to alurid cloud in a moment. 'How can you understand military terms who'venever had a sword in your life? I shouldn't take him with the sword atall. ' He went on with eager sulkiness, 'I should take him with mypistol. I should pull off my right glove, and throw back my goat-skin;then I should open my priming-pan, prime, and cast about--no, Ishouldn't, that's wrong; I should draw my right pistol, and as soon asloaded, seize the weapon by the butt; then at the word "Cock your pistol"I should--'

'Then there is plenty of time to give such words of command in the heatof battle?' said Anne innocently. 

'No!' said the yeoman, his face again in flames. 'Why, of course I amonly telling you what _would_ be the word of command _if_--there now! youla--'

'I didn't; 'pon my word I didn't!'

'No, I don't think you did; it was my mistake. Well, then I come smartlyto Present, looking well along the barrel--along the barrel--and fire. Ofcourse I know well enough how to engage the enemy! But I expect my olduncle has been setting you against me. '

'He has not said a word, ' replied Anne; 'though I have heard of you, ofcourse. '

'What have you heard? Nothing good, I dare say. It makes my blood boilwithin me!'

'O, nothing bad, ' said she assuringly. 'Just a word now and then. '

'Now, come, tell me, there's a dear. I don't like to be crossed. Itshall be a sacred secret between us. Come, now!'

Anne was embarrassed, and her smile was uncomfortable. 'I shall not tellyou, ' she said at last. 

'There it is again!' said the yeoman, throwing himself into a despair. 'Ishall soon begin to believe that my name is not worth sixpence abouthere!'

'I tell you 'twas nothing against you, ' repeated Anne. 

'That means it might have been for me, ' said Festus, in a mollified tone. 'Well, though, to speak the truth, I have a good many faults, some peoplewill praise me, I suppose. 'Twas praise?'

'It was. '

'Well, I am not much at farming, and I am not much in company, and I amnot much at figures, but perhaps I must own, since it is forced upon me, that I can show as fine a soldier's figure on the Esplanade as any man ofthe cavalry. '

'You can, ' said Anne; for though her flesh crept in mortal terror of hisirascibility, she could not resist the fearful pleasure of leading himon. 'You look very well; and some say, you are--'

'What? Well, they say I am good-looking. I don't make myself, so 'tisno praise. Hullo! what are you looking across there for?'

'Only at a bird that I saw fly out of that tree, ' said Anne. 

'What? Only at a bird, do you say?' he heaved out in a voice of thunder. 'I see your shoulders a-shaking, young madam. Now don't you provoke mewith that laughing! By God, it won't do!'

'Then go away!' said Anne, changed from mirthfulness to irritation by hisrough manner. 'I don't want your company, you great bragging thing! Youare so touchy there's no bearing with you. Go away!'

'No, no, Anne; I am wrong to speak to you so. I give you free liberty tosay what you will to me. Say I am not a bit of a soldier, or anything!Abuse me--do now, there's a dear. I'm scum, I'm froth, I'm dirt beforethe besom--yes!'

'I have nothing to say, sir. Stay where you are till I am out of thisfield. '

'Well, there's such command in your looks that I ha'n't heart to goagainst you. You will come this way to-morrow at the same time? Now, don't be uncivil. '

She was too generous not to forgive him, but the short little lipmurmured that she did not think it at all likely she should come that wayto-morrow. 

'Then Sunday?' he said. 

'Not Sunday, ' said she. 

'Then Monday--Tuesday--Wednesday, surely?' he went on experimentally. 

She answered that she should probably not see him on either day, and, cutting short the argument, went through the wicket into the other field. Festus paused, looking after her; and when he could no longer see herslight figure he swept away his deliberations, began singing, and turnedoff in the other direction. 

VIII. ANNE MAKES A CIRCUIT OF THE CAMP

When Anne was crossing the last field, she saw approaching her an oldwoman with wrinkled cheeks, who surveyed the earth and its inhabitantsthrough the medium of brass-rimmed spectacles. Shaking her head at Annetill the glasses shone like two moons, she said, 'Ah, ah; I zeed ye! IfI had only kept on my short ones that I use for reading the Collect andGospel I shouldn't have zeed ye; but thinks I, I be going out o' doors, and I'll put on my long ones, little thinking what they'd show me. Ay, Ican tell folk at any distance with these--'tis a beautiful pair for outo' doors; though my short ones be best for close work, such as darning, and catching fleas, that's true. '

'What have you seen, Granny Seamore?' said Anne. 

'Fie, fie, Miss Nancy! you know, ' said Granny Seamore, shaking her headstill. 'But he's a fine young feller, and will have all his uncle'smoney when 'a's gone. ' Anne said nothing to this, and looking ahead witha smile passed Granny Seamore by. 

Festus, the subject of the remark, was at this time aboutthree-and-twenty, a fine fellow as to feet and inches, and of aremarkably warm tone in skin and hair. Symptoms of beard and whiskershad appeared upon him at a very early age, owing to his persistent use ofthe razor before there was any necessity for its operation. The braveboy had scraped unseen in the out-house, in the cellar, in the wood-shed, in the stable, in the unused parlour, in the cow-stalls, in the barn, andwherever he could set up his triangular bit of looking-glass withoutobservation, or extemporize a mirror by sticking up his hat on theoutside of a window-pane. The result now was that, did he neglect to usethe instrument he once had trifled with, a fine rust broke out upon hiscountenance on the first day, a golden lichen on the second, and a fierystubble on the third to a degree which admitted of no furtherpostponement. 

His disposition divided naturally into two, the boastful and thecantankerous. When Festus put on the big pot, as it is classicallycalled, he was quite blinded ipso facto to the diverting effect of thatmood and manner upon others; but when disposed to be envious orquarrelsome he was rather shrewd than otherwise, and could do some prettystrokes of satire. He was both liked and abused by the girls who knewhim, and though they were pleased by his attentions, they never failed toridicule him behind his back. In his cups (he knew those vessels, thoughonly twenty-three) he first became noisy, then excessively friendly, andthen invariably nagging. During childhood he had made himself renownedfor his pleasant habit of pouncing down upon boys smaller and poorer thanhimself, and knocking their birds' nests out of their hands, oroverturning their little carts of apples, or pouring water down theirbacks; but his conduct became singularly the reverse of aggressive themoment the little boys' mothers ran out to him, brandishing brooms, frying-pans, skimmers, and whatever else they could lay hands on by wayof weapons. He then fled and hid behind bushes, under faggots, or inpits till they had gone away; and on one such occasion was known to creepinto a badger's hole quite out of sight, maintaining that post with greatfirmness and resolution for two or three hours. He had brought morevulgar exclamations upon the tongues of respectable parents in his nativeparish than any other boy of his time. When other youngsters snowballedhim he ran into a place of shelter, where he kneaded snowballs of hisown, with a stone inside, and used these formidable missiles in returningtheir pleasantry. Sometimes he got fearfully beaten by boys his own age, when he would roar most lustily, but fight on in the midst of his tears, blood, and cries. 

He was early in love, and had at the time of the story suffered from theravages of that passion thirteen distinct times. He could not lovelightly and gaily; his love was earnest, cross-tempered, and even savage. It was a positive agony to him to be ridiculed by the object of hisaffections, and such conduct drove him into a frenzy if persisted in. Hewas a torment to those who behaved humbly towards him, cynical with thosewho denied his superiority, and a very nice fellow towards those who hadthe courage to ill-use him. 

This stalwart gentleman and Anne Garland did not cross each other's pathsagain for a week. Then her mother began as before about the newspaper, and, though Anne did not much like the errand, she agreed to go for it onMrs. Garland pressing her with unusual anxiety. Why her mother was sopersistent on so small a matter quite puzzled the girl; but she put onher hat and started. 

As she had expected, Festus appeared at a stile over which she sometimeswent for shortness' sake, and showed by his manner that he awaited her. When she saw this she kept straight on, as if she would not enter thepark at all. 

'Surely this is your way?' said Festus. 

'I was thinking of going round by the road, ' she said. 

'Why is that?'

She paused, as if she were not inclined to say. 'I go that way when thegrass is wet, ' she returned at last. 

'It is not wet now, ' he persisted; 'the sun has been shining on it thesenine hours. ' The fact was that the way by the path was less open than bythe road, and Festus wished to walk with her uninterrupted. 'But, ofcourse, it is nothing to me what you do. ' He flung himself from thestile and walked away towards the house. 

Anne, supposing him really indifferent, took the same way, upon which heturned his head and waited for her with a proud smile. 

'I cannot go with you, ' she said decisively. 

'Nonsense, you foolish girl! I must walk along with you down to thecorner. '

'No, please, Mr. Derriman; we might be seen. '

'Now, now--that's shyness!' he said jocosely. 

'No; you know I cannot let you. '

'But I must. '

'But I do not allow it. '

'Allow it or not, I will. '

'Then you are unkind, and I must submit, ' she said, her eyes brimmingwith tears. 

'Ho, ho; what a shame of me! My wig, I won't do any such thing for theworld, ' said the repentant yeoman. 'Haw, haw; why, I thought your "goaway" meant "come on, " as it does with so many of the women I meet, especially in these clothes. Who was to know you were so confoundedlyserious?'

As he did not go Anne stood still and said nothing. 

'I see you have a deal more caution and a deal less good-nature than Iever thought you had, ' he continued emphatically. 

'No, sir; it is not any planned manner of mine at all, ' she saidearnestly. 'But you will see, I am sure, that I could not go down to thehall with you without putting myself in a wrong light. '

'Yes; that's it, that's it. I am only a fellow in the yeomanry cavalry--aplain soldier, I may say; and we know what women think of such: that theyare a bad lot--men you mustn't speak to for fear of losing yourcharacter--chaps you avoid in the roads--chaps that come into a houselike oxen, daub the stairs wi' their boots, stain the furniture wi' theirdrink, talk rubbish to the servants, abuse all that's holy and righteous, and are only saved from being carried off by Old Nick because they arewanted for Boney. '

'Indeed, I didn't know you were thought so bad of as that, ' said shesimply. 

'What! don't my uncle complain to you of me? You are a favourite of thathandsome, nice old gaffer's, I know. '

'Never. '

'Well, what do we think of our nice trumpet-major, hey?'

Anne closed her mouth up tight, built it up, in fact, to show that noanswer was coming to that question. 

'O now, come, seriously, Loveday is a good fellow, and so is his father. '

'I don't know. '

'What a close little rogue you are! There is no getting anything out ofyou. I believe you would say "I don't know, " to every mortal question, so very discreet as you are. Upon my heart, there are some women whowould say "I don't know, " to "Will ye marry me?"'

The brightness upon Anne's cheek and in her eyes during this remarkshowed that there was a fair quantity of life and warmth beneath thediscretion he complained of. Having spoken thus, he drew aside that shemight pass, and bowed very low. Anne formally inclined herself and wenton. 

She had been at vexation point all the time that he was present, from ahaunting sense that he would not have spoken to her so freely had shebeen a young woman with thriving male relatives to keep forward admirersin check. But she had been struck, now as at their previous meeting, with the power she possessed of working him up either to irritation or tocomplacency at will; and this consciousness of being able to play uponhim as upon an instrument disposed her to a humorous considerateness, andmade her tolerate even while she rebuffed him. 

When Anne got to the hall the farmer, as usual, insisted upon her readingwhat he had been unable to get through, and held the paper tightly in hisskinny hand till she had agreed. He sent her to a hard chair that shecould not possibly injure to the extent of a pennyworth by sitting in ita twelvemonth, and watched her from the outer angle of his near eye whileshe bent over the paper. His look might have been suggested by the sightthat he had witnessed from his window on the last occasion of her visit, for it partook of the nature of concern. The old man was afraid of hisnephew, physically and morally, and he began to regard Anne as a fellow-sufferer under the same despot. After this sly and curious gaze at herhe withdrew his eye again, so that when she casually lifted her own therewas nothing visible but his keen bluish profile as before. 

When the reading was about half-way through, the door behind them opened, and footsteps crossed the threshold. The farmer diminished perceptiblyin his chair, and looked fearful, but pretended to be absorbed in thereading, and quite unconscious of an intruder. Anne felt the presence ofthe swashing Festus, and stopped her reading. 

'Please go on, Miss Anne, ' he said, 'I am not going to speak a word. ' Hewithdrew to the mantelpiece and leaned against it at his ease. 

'Go on, do ye, maidy Anne, ' said Uncle Benjy, keeping down his tremblingsby a great effort to half their natural extent. 

Anne's voice became much lower now that there were two listeners, and hermodesty shrank somewhat from exposing to Festus the appreciativemodulations which an intelligent interest in the subject drew from herwhen unembarrassed. But she still went on that he might not suppose herto be disconcerted, though the ensuing ten minutes was one ofdisquietude. She knew that the bothering yeoman's eyes were travellingover her from his position behind, creeping over her shoulders, up to herhead, and across her arms and hands. Old Benjy on his part knew the samething, and after sundry endeavours to peep at his nephew from the cornerof his eye, he could bear the situation no longer. 

'Do ye want to say anything to me, nephew?' he quaked. 

'No, uncle, thank ye, ' said Festus heartily. 'I like to stay here, thinking of you and looking at your back hair. '

The nervous old man writhed under this vivisection, and Anne read on;till, to the relief of both, the gallant fellow grew tired of hisamusement and went out of the room. Anne soon finished her paragraph androse to go, determined never to come again as long as Festus haunted theprecincts. Her face grew warmer as she thought that he would be sure towaylay her on her journey home to-day. 

On this account, when she left the house, instead of going in thecustomary direction, she bolted round to the further side, through thebushes, along under the kitchen-garden wall, and through a door leadinginto a rutted cart-track, which had been a pleasant gravelled drive whenthe fine old hall was in its prosperity. Once out of sight of thewindows she ran with all her might till she had quitted the park by aroute directly opposite to that towards her home. Why she was soseriously bent upon doing this she could hardly tell but the instinct torun was irresistible. 

It was necessary now to clamber over the down to the left of the camp, and make a complete circuit round the latter--infantry, cavalry, sutlers, and all--descending to her house on the other side. This tremendous walkshe performed at a rapid rate, never once turning her head, and avoidingevery beaten track to keep clear of the knots of soldiers taking a walk. When she at last got down to the levels again she paused to fetch breath, and murmured, 'Why did I take so much trouble? He would not, after all, have hurt me. '

As she neared the mill an erect figure with a blue body and white thighsdescended before her from the down towards the village, and went past themill to a stile beyond, over which she usually returned to her house. Here he lingered. On coming nearer Anne discovered this person to beTrumpet-major Loveday; and not wishing to meet anybody just now Annepassed quickly on, and entered the house by the garden door. 

'My dear Anne, what a time you have been gone!' said her mother. 

'Yes, I have been round by another road. '

'Why did you do that?'

Anne looked thoughtful and reticent, for her reason was almost too sillya one to confess. 'Well, I wanted to avoid a person who is very busytrying to meet me--that's all, ' she said. 

Her mother glanced out of the window. 'And there he is, I suppose, ' shesaid, as John Loveday, tired of looking for Anne at the stile, passed thehouse on his way to his father's door. He could not help casting hiseyes towards their window, and, seeing them, he smiled. 

Anne's reluctance to mention Festus was such that she did not correct hermother's error, and the dame went on: 'Well, you are quite right, mydear. Be friendly with him, but no more at present. I have heard ofyour other affair, and think it is a very wise choice. I am sure youhave my best wishes in it, and I only hope it will come to a point. '

'What's that?' said the astonished Anne. 

'You and Mr. Festus Derriman, dear. You need not mind me; I have knownit for several days. Old Granny Seamore called here Saturday, and toldme she saw him coming home with you across Park Close last week, when youwent for the newspaper; so I thought I'd send you again to-day, and giveyou another chance. '

'Then you didn't want the paper--and it was only for that!'

'He's a very fine young fellow; he looks a thorough woman's protector. '

'He may look it, ' said Anne. 

'He has given up the freehold farm his father held at Pitstock, and livesin independence on what the land brings him. And when Farmer Derrimandies, he'll have all the old man's, for certain. He'll be worth tenthousand pounds, if a penny, in money, besides sixteen horses, cart andhack, a fifty-cow dairy, and at least five hundred sheep. '

Anne turned away, and instead of informing her mother that she had beenrunning like a doe to escape the interesting heir-presumptive alluded to, merely said 'Mother, I don't like this at all. '

IX. ANNE IS KINDLY FETCHED BY THE TRUMPET-MAJOR

After this, Anne would on no account walk in the direction of the hallfor fear of another encounter with young Derriman. In the course of afew days it was told in the village that the old farmer had actually gonefor a week's holiday and change of air to the Royal watering-place nearat hand, at the instance of his nephew Festus. This was a wonderfulthing to hear of Uncle Benjy, who had not slept outside the walls ofOxwell Hall for many a long year before; and Anne well imagined whatextraordinary pressure must have been put upon him to induce him to takesuch a step. She pictured his unhappiness at the bustlingwatering-place, and hoped no harm would come to him. 

She spent much of her time indoors or in the garden, hearing little ofthe camp movements beyond the periodical Ta-ta-ta-taa of the trumpeterssounding their various ingenious calls for watch-setting, stables, feed, boot-and-saddle, parade, and so on, which made her think how clever herfriend the trumpet-major must be to teach his pupils to play those prettylittle tunes so well. 

On the third morning after Uncle Benjy's departure, she was disturbed asusual while dressing by the tramp of the troops down the slope to themill-pond, and during the now familiar stamping and splashing whichfollowed there sounded upon the glass of the window a slight smack, whichmight have been caused by a whip or switch. She listened moreparticularly, and it was repeated. 

As John Loveday was the only dragoon likely to be aware that she slept inthat particular apartment, she imagined the signal to come from him, though wondering that he should venture upon such a freak of familiarity. 

Wrapping herself up in a red cloak, she went to the window, gently drewup a corner of the curtain, and peeped out, as she had done many timesbefore. Nobody who was not quite close beneath her window could see herface; but as it happened, somebody was close. The soldiers whosefloundering Anne had heard were not Loveday's dragoons, but a troop ofthe York Hussars, quite oblivious of her existence. They had passed onout of the water, and instead of them there sat Festus Derriman alone onhis horse, and in plain clothes, the water reaching up to the animal'sbelly, and Festus' heels elevated over the saddle to keep them out of thestream, which threatened to wash rider and horse into the deep mill-headjust below. It was plainly he who had struck her lattice, for in amoment he looked up, and their eyes met. Festus laughed loudly, andslapped her window again; and just at that moment the dragoons beganprancing down the slope in review order. She could not but wait a minuteor two to see them pass. While doing so she was suddenly led to drawback, drop the corner of the curtain, and blush privately in her room. She had not only been seen by Festus Derriman, but by John Loveday, who, riding along with his trumpet slung up behind him, had looked over hisshoulder at the phenomenon of Derriman beneath Anne's bedroom window andseemed quite astounded at the sight. 

She was quite vexed at the conjunction of incidents, and went no more tothe window till the dragoons had ridden far away and she had heardFestus's horse laboriously wade on to dry land. When she looked outthere was nobody left but Miller Loveday, who usually stood in the gardenat this time of the morning to say a word or two to the soldiers, of whomhe already knew so many, and was in a fair way of knowing many more, fromthe liberality with which he handed round mugs of cheering liquorwhenever parties of them walked that way. 

In the afternoon of this day Anne walked to a christening party at aneighbour's in the adjoining parish of Springham, intending to walk homeagain before it got dark; but there was a slight fall of rain towardsevening, and she was pressed by the people of the house to stay over thenight. With some hesitation she accepted their hospitality; but at teno'clock, when they were thinking of going to bed, they were startled by asmart rap at the door, and on it being unbolted a man's form was seen inthe shadows outside. 

'Is Miss Garland here?' the visitor inquired, at which Anne suspended herbreath. 

'Yes, ' said Anne's entertainer, warily. 

'Her mother is very anxious to know what's become of her. She promisedto come home. ' To her great relief Anne recognized the voice as JohnLoveday's, and not Festus Derriman's. 

'Yes, I did, Mr. Loveday, ' said she, coming forward; 'but it rained, andI thought my mother would guess where I was. '

Loveday said with diffidence that it had not rained anything to speak ofat the camp, or at the mill, so that her mother was rather alarmed. 

'And she asked you to come for me?' Anne inquired. 

This was a question which the trumpet-major had been dreading during thewhole of his walk thither. 'Well, she didn't exactly ask me, ' he saidrather lamely, but still in a manner to show that Mrs. Garland hadindirectly signified such to be her wish. In reality Mrs. Garland hadnot addressed him at all on the subject. She had merely spoken to hisfather on finding that her daughter did not return, and received anassurance from the miller that the precious girl was doubtless quitesafe. John heard of this inquiry, and, having a pass that evening, resolved to relieve Mrs. Garland's mind on his own responsibility. Eversince his morning view of Festus under her window he had been on thornsof anxiety, and his thrilling hope now was that she would walk back withhim. 

He shifted his foot nervously as he made the bold request. Anne felt atonce that she would go. There was nobody in the world whose care shewould more readily be under than the trumpet-major's in a case like thepresent. He was their nearest neighbour's son, and she had liked hissingle-minded ingenuousness from the first moment of his return home. 

When they had started on their walk, Anne said in a practical way, toshow that there was no sentiment whatever in her acceptance of hiscompany, 'Mother was much alarmed about me, perhaps?'

'Yes; she was uneasy, ' he said; and then was compelled by conscience tomake a clean breast of it. 'I know she was uneasy, because my fathersaid so. But I did not see her myself. The truth is, she doesn't know Iam come. '

Anne now saw how the matter stood; but she was not offended with him. What woman could have been? They walked on in silence, the respectfultrumpet-major keeping a yard off on her right as precisely as if thatmeasure had been fixed between them. She had a great feeling of civilitytoward him this evening, and spoke again. 'I often hear your trumpetersblowing the calls. They do it beautifully, I think. '

'Pretty fair; they might do better, ' said he, as one too well-mannered tomake much of an accomplishment in which he had a hand. 

'And you taught them how to do it?'

'Yes, I taught them. '

'It must require wonderful practice to get them into the way of beginningand finishing so exactly at one time. It is like one throat doing itall. How came you to be a trumpeter, Mr. Loveday?'

'Well, I took to it naturally when I was a little boy, ' said he, betrayedinto quite a gushing state by her delightful interest. 'I used to maketrumpets of paper, eldersticks, eltrot stems, and even stinging-nettlestalks, you know. Then father set me to keep the birds off that littlebarley-ground of his, and gave me an old horn to frighten 'em with. Ilearnt to blow that horn so that you could hear me for miles and miles. Then he bought me a clarionet, and when I could play that I borrowed aserpent, and I learned to play a tolerable bass. So when I 'listed I waspicked out for training as trumpeter at once. '

'Of course you were. '

'Sometimes, however, I wish I had never joined the army. My father gaveme a very fair education, and your father showed me how to draw horses--ona slate, I mean. Yes, I ought to have done more than I have. '

'What, did you know my father?' she asked with new interest. 

'O yes, for years. You were a little mite of a thing then; and you usedto cry when we big boys looked at you, and made pig's eyes at you, whichwe did sometimes. Many and many a time have I stood by your poor fatherwhile he worked. Ah, you don't remember much about him; but I do!'

Anne remained thoughtful; and the moon broke from behind the clouds, lighting up the wet foliage with a twinkling brightness, and lending toeach of the trumpet-major's buttons and spurs a little ray of its own. They had come to Oxwell park gate, and he said, 'Do you like goingacross, or round by the lane?'

'We may as well go by the nearest road, ' said Anne. 

They entered the park, following the half-obliterated drive till theycame almost opposite the hall, when they entered a footpath leading on tothe village. While hereabout they heard a shout, or chorus ofexclamation, apparently from within the walls of the dark buildings nearthem. 

'What was that?' said Anne. 

'I don't know, ' said her companion. 'I'll go and see. '

He went round the intervening swamp of watercress and brooklime which hadonce been the fish-pond, crossed by a culvert the trickling brook thatstill flowed that way, and advanced to the wall of the house. Boisterousnoises were resounding from within, and he was tempted to go round thecorner, where the low windows were, and look through a chink into theroom whence the sounds proceeded. 

It was the room in which the owner dined--traditionally called the greatparlour--and within it sat about a dozen young men of the yeomanrycavalry, one of them being Festus. They were drinking, laughing, singing, thumping their fists on the tables, and enjoying themselves inthe very perfection of confusion. The candles, blown by the breeze fromthe partly opened window, had guttered into coffin handles and shrouds, and, choked by their long black wicks for want of snuffing, gave out asmoky yellow light. One of the young men might possibly have been in amaudlin state, for he had his arm round the neck of his next neighbour. Another was making an incoherent speech to which nobody was listening. Some of their faces were red, some were sallow; some were sleepy, somewide awake. The only one among them who appeared in his usual frame ofmind was Festus, whose huge, burly form rose at the head of the table, enjoying with a serene and triumphant aspect the difference between hisown condition and that of his neighbours. While the trumpet-majorlooked, a young woman, niece of Anthony Cripplestraw, and one of UncleBenjy's servants, was called in by one of the crew, and much against herwill a fiddle was placed in her hands, from which they made her producediscordant screeches. 

The absence of Uncle Benjy had, in fact, been contrived by young Derrimanthat he might make use of the hall on his own account. Cripplestraw hadbeen left in charge, and Festus had found no difficulty in forcing fromthat dependent the keys of whatever he required. John Loveday turned hiseyes from the scene to the neighbouring moonlit path, where Anne stillstood waiting. Then he looked into the room, then at Anne again. It wasan opportunity of advancing his own cause with her by exposing Festus, for whom he began to entertain hostile feelings of no mean force. 

'No; I can't do it, ' he said. ''Tis underhand. Let things take theirchance. '

He moved away, and then perceived that Anne, tired of waiting, hadcrossed the stream, and almost come up with him. 

'What is the noise about?' she said. 

'There's company in the house, ' said Loveday. 

'Company? Farmer Derriman is not at home, ' said Anne, and went on to thewindow whence the rays of light leaked out, the trumpet-major standingwhere he was. He saw her face enter the beam of candlelight, stay therefor a moment, and quickly withdraw. She came back to him at once. 'Letus go on, ' she said. 

Loveday imagined from her tone that she must have an interest inDerriman, and said sadly, 'You blame me for going across to the window, and leading you to follow me. '

'Not a bit, ' said Anne, seeing his mistake as to the state of her heart, and being rather angry with him for it. 'I think it was most natural, considering the noise. '

Silence again. 'Derriman is sober as a judge, ' said Loveday, as theyturned to go. 'It was only the others who were noisy. '

'Whether he is sober or not is nothing whatever to me, ' said Anne. 

'Of course not. I know it, ' said the trumpet-major, in accentsexpressing unhappiness at her somewhat curt tone, and some doubt of herassurance. 

Before they had emerged from the shadow of the hall some persons wereseen moving along the road. Loveday was for going on just the same; butAnne, from a shy feeling that it was as well not to be seen walking alonewith a man who was not her lover, said--

'Mr. Loveday, let us wait here a minute till they have passed. '

On nearer view the group was seen to comprise a man on a piebald horse, and another man walking beside him. When they were opposite the housethey halted, and the rider dismounted, whereupon a dispute between himand the other man ensued, apparently on a question of money. 

''Tis old Mr. Derriman come home!' said Anne. 'He has hired that horsefrom the bathing-machine to bring him. Only fancy!'

Before they had gone many steps further the farmer and his companion hadended their dispute, and the latter mounted the horse and cantered away, Uncle Benjy coming on to the house at a nimble pace. As soon as heobserved Loveday and Anne, he fell into a feebler gait; when they came uphe recognized Anne. 

'And you have torn yourself away from King George's Esplanade so soon, Farmer Derriman?' said she. 

'Yes, faith! I couldn't bide at such a ruination place, ' said thefarmer. 'Your hand in your pocket every minute of the day. 'Tis ashilling for this, half-a-crown for that; if you only eat one egg, oreven a poor windfall of an apple, you've got to pay; and a bunch o'radishes is a halfpenny, and a quart o' cider a good tuppencethree-farthings at lowest reckoning. Nothing without paying! I couldn'teven get a ride homeward upon that screw without the man wanting ashilling for it, when my weight didn't take a penny out of the beast. I've saved a penn'orth or so of shoeleather to be sure; but the saddlewas so rough wi' patches that 'a took twopence out of the seat of my bestbreeches. King George hev' ruined the town for other folks. More thanthat, my nephew promised to come there to-morrow to see me, and if I hadstayed I must have treated en. Hey--what's that?'

It was a shout from within the walls of the building, and Loveday said--

'Your nephew is here, and has company. '

'My nephew _here_?' gasped the old man. 'Good folks, will you come up tothe door with me? I mean--hee--hee--just for company! Dear me, Ithought my house was as quiet as a church?'

They went back to the window, and the farmer looked in, his mouth fallingapart to a greater width at the corners than in the middle, and hisfingers assuming a state of radiation. 

''Tis my best silver tankards they've got, that I've never used! O! 'tismy strong beer! 'Tis eight candles guttering away, when I've usednothing but twenties myself for the last half-year!'

'You didn't know he was here, then?' said Loveday. 

'O no!' said the farmer, shaking his head half-way. 'Nothing's known topoor I! There's my best rummers jingling as careless as if 'twas tincups; and my table scratched, and my chairs wrenched out of joint. Seehow they tilt 'em on the two back legs--and that's ruin to a chair! Ah!when I be gone he won't find another old man to make such work with, andprovide goods for his breaking, and house-room and drink for his tear-brass set!'

'Comrades and fellow-soldiers, ' said Festus to the hot farmers and yeomenhe entertained within, 'as we have vowed to brave danger and deathtogether, so we'll share the couch of peace. You shall sleep here to-night, for it is getting late. My scram blue-vinnied gallicrow of anuncle takes care that there shan't be much comfort in the house, but youcan curl up on the furniture if beds run short. As for my sleep, itwon't be much. I'm melancholy! A woman has, I may say, got my heart inher pocket, and I have hers in mine. She's not much--to other folk, Imean--but she is to me. The little thing came in my way, and conqueredme. I fancy that simple girl! I ought to have looked higher--I know it;what of that? 'Tis a fate that may happen to the greatest men. '

'Whash her name?' said one of the warriors, whose head occasionallydrooped upon his epaulettes, and whose eyes fell together in the casualmanner characteristic of the tired soldier. (It was really Farmer Stubb, of Duddle Hole. )

'Her name? Well, 'tis spelt, A, N--but, by gad, I won't give ye her namehere in company. She don't live a hundred miles off, however, and shewears the prettiest cap-ribbons you ever saw. Well, well, 'tis weakness!She has little, and I have much; but I do adore that girl, in spite ofmyself!'

'Let's go on, ' said Anne. 

'Prithee stand by an old man till he's got into his house!' imploredUncle Benjy. 'I only ask ye to bide within call. Stand back under thetrees, and I'll do my poor best to give no trouble. '

'I'll stand by you for half-an-hour, sir, ' said Loveday. 'After that Imust bolt to camp. '

'Very well; bide back there under the trees, ' said Uncle Benjy. 'I don'twant to spite 'em?'

'You'll wait a few minutes, just to see if he gets in?' said the trumpet-major to Anne as they retired from the old man. 

'I want to get home, ' said Anne anxiously. 

When they had quite receded behind the tree-trunks and he stood alone, Uncle Benjy, to their surprise, set up a loud shout, altogether beyondthe imagined power of his lungs. 

'Man a-lost! man a-lost!' he cried, repeating the exclamation severaltimes; and then ran and hid himself behind a corner of the building. Soonthe door opened, and Festus and his guests came tumbling out upon thegreen. 

''Tis our duty to help folks in distress, ' said Festus. 'Man a-lost, where are you?'

''Twas across there, ' said one of his friends. 

'No! 'twas here, ' said another. 

Meanwhile Uncle Benjy, coming from his hiding-place, had scampered withthe quickness of a boy up to the door they had quitted, and slipped in. In a moment the door flew together, and Anne heard him bolting andbarring it inside. The revellers, however, did not notice this, and cameon towards the spot where the trumpet-major and Anne were standing. 

'Here's succour at hand, friends, ' said Festus. 'We are all king's men;do not fear us. '

'Thank you, ' said Loveday; 'so are we. ' He explained in two words thatthey were not the distressed traveller who had cried out, and turned togo on. 

''Tis she! my life, 'tis she said Festus, now first recognizing Anne. 'Fair Anne, I will not part from you till I see you safe at your own deardoor. '

'She's in my hands, ' said Loveday civilly, though not without firmness, 'so it is not required, thank you. '

'Man, had I but my sword--'

'Come, ' said Loveday, 'I don't want to quarrel. Let's put it to her. Whichever of us she likes best, he shall take her home. Miss Anne, which?'

Anne would much rather have gone home alone, but seeing the remainder ofthe yeomanry party staggering up she thought it best to secure aprotector of some kind. How to choose one without offending the otherand provoking a quarrel was the difficulty. 

'You must both walk home with me, ' she adroitly said, 'one on one side, and one on the other. And if you are not quite civil to one another allthe time, I'll never speak to either of you again. '

They agreed to the terms, and the other yeomen arriving at this time saidthey would go also as rearguard. 

'Very well, ' said Anne. 'Now go and get your hats, and don't be long. '

'Ah, yes; our hats, ' said the yeomanry, whose heads were so hot that theyhad forgotten their nakedness till then. 

'You'll wait till we've got 'em--we won't be a moment, ' said Festuseagerly. 

Anne and Loveday said yes, and Festus ran back to the house, followed byall his band. 

'Now let's run and leave 'em, ' said Anne, when they were out of hearing. 

'But we've promised to wait!' said the trumpet-major in surprise. 

'Promised to wait!' said Anne indignantly. 'As if one ought to keep sucha promise to drunken men as that. You can do as you like, I shall go. '

'It is hardly fair to leave the chaps, ' said Loveday reluctantly, andlooking back at them. But she heard no more, and flitting off under thetrees, was soon lost to his sight. 

Festus and the rest had by this time reached Uncle Benjy's door, whichthey were discomfited and astonished to find closed. They began toknock, and then to kick at the venerable timber, till the old man's head, crowned with a tasselled nightcap, appeared at an upper window, followedby his shoulders, with apparently nothing on but his shirt, though it wasin truth a sheet thrown over his coat. 

'Fie, fie upon ye all for making such a hullaballoo at a weak old man'sdoor, ' he said, yawning. 'What's in ye to rouse honest folks at thistime o' night?'

'Hang me--why--it's Uncle Benjy! Haw--haw--haw?' said Festus. 'Nunc, why how the devil's this? 'Tis I--Festus--wanting to come in. '

'O no, no, my clever man, whoever you be!' said Uncle Benjy in a tone ofincredulous integrity. 'My nephew, dear boy, is miles away at quarters, and sound asleep by this time, as becomes a good soldier. That storywon't do to-night, my man, not at all. '

'Upon my soul 'tis I, ' said Festus. 

'Not to-night, my man; not to-night! Anthony, bring my blunderbuss, 'said the farmer, turning and addressing nobody inside the room. 

'Let's break in the window-shutters, ' said one of the others. 

'My wig, and we will!' said Festus. 'What a trick of the old man!'

'Get some big stones, ' said the yeomen, searching under the wall. 

'No; forbear, forbear, ' said Festus, beginning to be frightened at thespirit he had raised. 'I forget; we should drive him into fits, for he'ssubject to 'em, and then perhaps 'twould be manslaughter. Comrades, wemust march! No, we'll lie in the barn. I'll see into this, take my wordfor 't. Our honour is at stake. Now let's back to see my beauty home. '

'We can't, as we hav'n't got our hats, ' said one of hisfellow-troopers--in domestic life Jacob Noakes, of Muckleford Farm. 

'No more we can, ' said Festus, in a melancholy tone. 'But I must go toher and tell her the reason. She pulls me in spite of all. '

'She's gone. I saw her flee across park while we were knocking at thedoor, ' said another of the yeomanry. 

'Gone!' said Festus, grinding his teeth and putting himself into a rigidshape. 'Then 'tis my enemy--he has tempted her away with him! But I ama rich man, and he's poor, and rides the King's horse while I ride myown. Could I but find that fellow, that regular, that common man, Iwould--'

'Yes?' said the trumpet-major, coming up behind him. 

'I, '--said Festus, starting round, --'I would seize him by the hand andsay, "Guard her; if you are my friend, guard her from all harm!"'

'A good speech. And I will, too, ' said Loveday heartily. 

'And now for shelter, ' said Festus to his companions. 

They then unceremoniously left Loveday, without wishing him good-night, and proceeded towards the barn. He crossed the park and ascended thedown to the camp, grieved that he had given Anne cause of complaint, andfancying that she held him of slight account beside his wealthier rival. 

X. THE MATCH-MAKING VIRTUES OF A DOUBLE GARDEN

Anne was so flurried by the military incidents attending her return homethat she was almost afraid to venture alone outside her mother'spremises. Moreover, the numerous soldiers, regular and otherwise, thathaunted Overcombe and its neighbourhood, were getting better acquaintedwith the villagers, and the result was that they were always standing atgarden gates, walking in the orchards, or sitting gossiping just withincottage doors, with the bowls of their tobacco-pipes thrust outside forpoliteness' sake, that they might not defile the air of the household. Being gentlemen of a gallant and most affectionate nature, they naturallyturned their heads and smiled if a pretty girl passed by, which wasrather disconcerting to the latter if she were unused to society. Everybelle in the village soon had a lover, and when the belles were allallotted those who scarcely deserved that title had their turn, many ofthe soldiers being not at all particular about half-an-inch of nose moreor less, a trifling deficiency of teeth, or a larger crop of frecklesthan is customary in the Saxon race. Thus, with one and another, courtship began to be practised in Overcombe on rather a large scale, andthe dispossessed young men who had been born in the place were left totake their walks alone, where, instead of studying the works of nature, they meditated gross outrages on the brave men who had been so good as tovisit their village. 

Anne watched these romantic proceedings from her window with muchinterest, and when she saw how triumphantly other handsome girls of theneighbourhood walked by on the gorgeous arms of Lieutenant Knockheelmann, Cornet Flitzenhart, and Captain Klaspenkissen, of the thrilling YorkHussars, who swore the most picturesque foreign oaths, and had awonderful sort of estate or property called the Vaterland in theircountry across the sea, she was filled with a sense of her ownloneliness. It made her think of things which she tried to forget, andto look into a little drawer at something soft and brown that lay in acurl there, wrapped in paper. At last she could bear it no longer, andwent downstairs. 

'Where are you going?' said Mrs. Garland. 

'To see the folks, because I am so gloomy!'

'Certainly not at present, Anne. '

'Why not, mother?' said Anne, blushing with an indefinite sense of beingvery wicked. 

'Because you must not. I have been going to tell you several times notto go into the street at this time of day. Why not walk in the morning?There's young Mr. Derriman would be glad to--'

'Don't mention him, mother, don't!'

'Well then, dear, walk in the garden. '

So poor Anne, who really had not the slightest wish to throw her heartaway upon a soldier, but merely wanted to displace old thoughts by new, turned into the inner garden from day to day, and passed a good manyhours there, the pleasant birds singing to her, and the delightfulbutterflies alighting on her hat, and the horrid ants running up herstockings. 

This garden was undivided from Loveday's, the two having originally beenthe single garden of the whole house. It was a quaint old place, enclosed by a thorn hedge so shapely and dense from incessant clippingthat the mill-boy could walk along the top without sinking in--a featwhich he often performed as a means of filling out his day's work. Thesoil within was of that intense fat blackness which is only seen after acentury of constant cultivation. The paths were grassed over, so thatpeople came and went upon them without being heard. The grass harbouredslugs, and on this account the miller was going to replace it by gravelas soon as he had time; but as he had said this for thirty years withoutdoing it, the grass and the slugs seemed likely to remain. 

The miller's man attended to Mrs. Garland's piece of the garden as wellas to the larger portion, digging, planting, and weeding indifferently inboth, the miller observing with reason that it was not worth while for ahelpless widow lady to hire a man for her little plot when his man, working alongside, could tend it without much addition to his labour. Thetwo households were on this account even more closely united in thegarden than within the mill. Out there they were almost one family, andthey talked from plot to plot with a zest and animation which Mrs. Garland could never have anticipated when she first removed thither afterher husband's death. 

The lower half of the garden, farthest from the road, was the most snugand sheltered part of this snug and sheltered enclosure, and it was wellwatered as the land of Lot. Three small brooks, about a yard wide, ranwith a tinkling sound from side to side between the plots, crossing thepath under wood slabs laid as bridges, and passing out of the gardenthrough little tunnels in the hedge. The brooks were so far overhung attheir brinks by grass and garden produce that, had it not been for theirperpetual babbling, few would have noticed that they were there. Thiswas where Anne liked best to linger when her excursions became restrictedto her own premises; and in a spot of the garden not far removed thetrumpet-major loved to linger also. 

Having by virtue of his office no stable duty to perform, he came downfrom the camp to the mill almost every day; and Anne, finding that headroitly walked and sat in his father's portion of the garden whenevershe did so in the other half, could not help smiling and speaking to him. So his epaulettes and blue jacket, and Anne's yellow gipsy hat, wereoften seen in different parts of the garden at the same time; but henever intruded into her part of the enclosure, nor did she intoLoveday's. She always spoke to him when she saw him there, and hereplied in deep, firm accents across the gooseberry bushes, or throughthe tall rows of flowering peas, as the case might be. He thus gave heraccounts at fifteen paces of his experiences in camp, in quarters, inFlanders, and elsewhere; of the difference between line and column, offorced marches, billeting, and such-like, together with his hopes ofpromotion. Anne listened at first indifferently; but knowing no one elseso good-natured and experienced, she grew interested in him as in abrother. By degrees his gold lace, buckles, and spurs lost all theirstrangeness and were as familiar to her as her own clothes. 

At last Mrs. Garland noticed this growing friendship, and began todespair of her motherly scheme of uniting Anne to the moneyed Festus. Whyshe could not take prompt steps to check interference with her plansarose partly from her nature, which was the reverse of managing, andpartly from a new emotional circumstance with which she found itdifficult to reckon. The near neighbourhood that had produced thefriendship of Anne for John Loveday was slowly effecting a warmer likingbetween her mother and his father. 

Thus the month of July passed. The troop horses came with the regularityof clockwork twice a day down to drink under her window, and, as theweather grew hotter, kicked up their heels and shook their headsfuriously under the maddening sting of the dun-fly. The green leaves inthe garden became of a darker dye, the gooseberries ripened, and thethree brooks were reduced to half their winter volume. 

At length the earnest trumpet-major obtained Mrs. Garland's consent totake her and her daughter to the camp, which they had not yet viewed fromany closer point than their own windows. So one afternoon they went, themiller being one of the party. The villagers were by this time driving aroaring trade with the soldiers, who purchased of them every descriptionof garden produce, milk, butter, and eggs at liberal prices. The figuresof these rural sutlers could be seen creeping up the slopes, laden likebees, to a spot in the rear of the camp, where there was a kind of market-place on the greensward. 

Mrs. Garland, Anne, and the miller were conducted from one place toanother, and on to the quarter where the soldiers' wives lived who hadnot been able to get lodgings in the cottages near. The most shelteredplace had been chosen for them, and snug huts had been built for theiruse by their husbands, of clods, hurdles, a little thatch, or whateverthey could lay hands on. The trumpet-major conducted his friends thenceto the large barn which had been appropriated as a hospital, and to thecottage with its windows bricked up, that was used as the magazine; thenthey inspected the lines of shining dark horses (each representing thethen high figure of two-and-twenty guineas purchase money), standingpatiently at the ropes which stretched from one picket-post to another, abank being thrown up in front of them as a protection at night. 

They passed on to the tents of the German Legion, a well-grown and ratherdandy set of men, with a poetical look about their faces which renderedthem interesting to feminine eyes. Hanoverians, Saxons, Prussians, Swedes, Hungarians, and other foreigners were numbered in their ranks. They were cleaning arms, which they leant carefully against a rail whenthe work was complete. 

On their return they passed the mess-house, a temporary wooden buildingwith a brick chimney. As Anne and her companions went by, a group ofthree or four of the hussars were standing at the door talking to adashing young man, who was expatiating on the qualities of a horse thatone was inclined to buy. Anne recognized Festus Derriman in the seller, and Cripplestraw was trotting the animal up and down. As soon as shecaught the yeoman's eye he came forward, making some friendly remark tothe miller, and then turning to Miss Garland, who kept her eyes steadilyfixed on the distant landscape till he got so near that it was impossibleto do so longer. Festus looked from Anne to the trumpet-major, and fromthe trumpet-major back to Anne, with a dark expression of face, as if hesuspected that there might be a tender understanding between them. 

'Are you offended with me?' he said to her in a low voice of repressedresentment. 

'No, ' said Anne. 

'When are you coming to the hall again?'

'Never, perhaps. '

'Nonsense, Anne, ' said Mrs. Garland, who had come near, and smiledpleasantly on Festus. 'You can go at any time, as usual. '

'Let her come with me now, Mrs. Garland; I should be pleased to walkalong with her. My man can lead home the horse. '

'Thank you, but I shall not come, ' said Miss Anne coldly. 

The widow looked unhappily in her daughter's face, distressed between herdesire that Anne should encourage Festus, and her wish to consult Anne'sown feelings. 

'Leave her alone, leave her alone, ' said Festus, his gaze blackening. 'Now I think of it I am glad she can't come with me, for I am engaged;'and he stalked away. 

Anne moved on with her mother, young Loveday silently following, and theybegan to descend the hill. 

'Well, where's Mr. Loveday?' asked Mrs. Garland. 

'Father's behind, ' said John. 

Mrs. Garland looked behind her solicitously; and the miller, who had beenwaiting for the event, beckoned to her. 

'I'll overtake you in a minute, ' she said to the younger pair, and wentback, her colour, for some unaccountable reason, rising as she did so. The miller and she then came on slowly together, conversing in very lowtones, and when they got to the bottom they stood still. Loveday andAnne waited for them, saying but little to each other, for the rencounterwith Festus had damped the spirits of both. At last the widow's privatetalk with Miller Loveday came to an end, and she hastened onward, themiller going in another direction to meet a man on business. When shereached the trumpet-major and Anne she was looking very bright and ratherflurried, and seemed sorry when Loveday said that he must leave them andreturn to the camp. They parted in their usual friendly manner, and Anneand her mother were left to walk the few remaining yards alone. 

'There, I've settled it, ' said Mrs. Garland. 'Anne, what are youthinking about? I have settled in my mind that it is all right. '

'What's all right?' said Anne. 

'That you do not care for Derriman, and mean to encourage John Loveday. What's all the world so long as folks are happy! Child, don't take anynotice of what I have said about Festus, and don't meet him any more. '

'What a weathercock you are, mother! Why should you say that just now?'

'It is easy to call me a weathercock, ' said the matron, putting on thelook of a good woman; 'but I have reasoned it out, and at last, thankGod, I have got over my ambition. The Lovedays are our true and onlyfriends, and Mr. Festus Derriman, with all his money, is nothing to us atall. '

'But, ' said Anne, 'what has made you change all of a sudden from what youhave said before?'

'My feelings and my reason, which I am thankful for!'

Anne knew that her mother's sentiments were naturally so versatile thatthey could not be depended on for two days together; but it did not occurto her for the moment that a change had been helped on in the presentcase by a romantic talk between Mrs. Garland and the miller. But Mrs. Garland could not keep the secret long. She chatted gaily as she walked, and before they had entered the house she said, 'What do you think MrLoveday has been saying to me, dear Anne?'

Anne did not know at all. 

'Why, he has asked me to marry him. '

XI. OUR PEOPLE ARE AFFECTED BY THE PRESENCE OF ROYALTY

To explain the miller's sudden proposal it is only necessary to go backto that moment when Anne, Festus, and Mrs. Garland were talking togetheron the down. John Loveday had fallen behind so as not to interfere witha meeting in which he was decidedly superfluous; and his father, whoguessed the trumpet-major's secret, watched his face as he stood. John'sface was sad, and his eyes followed Mrs. Garland's encouraging manner toFestus in a way which plainly said that every parting of her lips wastribulation to him. The miller loved his son as much as any miller orprivate gentleman could do, and he was pained to see John's gloom at sucha trivial circumstance. So what did he resolve but to help John thereand then by precipitating a matter which, had he himself been the onlyperson concerned, he would have delayed for another six months. 

He had long liked the society of his impulsive, tractable neighbour, Mrs. Garland; had mentally taken her up and pondered her in connexion with thequestion whether it would not be for the happiness of both if she were toshare his home, even though she was a little his superior in antecedentsand knowledge. In fact he loved her; not tragically, but to a verycreditable extent for his years; that is, next to his sons, Bob and John, though he knew very well of that ploughed-ground appearance near thecorners of her once handsome eyes, and that the little depression in herright cheek was not the lingering dimple it was poetically assumed to be, but a result of the abstraction of some worn-out nether millstones withinthe cheek by Rootle, the Budmouth man, who lived by such practices on theheads of the elderly. But what of that, when he had lost two to each oneof hers, and exceeded her in age by some eight years! To do John aservice, then, he quickened his designs, and put the question to herwhile they were standing under the eyes of the younger pair. 

Mrs. Garland, though she had been interested in the miller for a longtime, and had for a moment now and then thought on this question as faras, 'Suppose he should, 'If he were to, ' and so on, had never thoughtmuch further; and she was really taken by surprise when the questioncame. She answered without affectation that she would think over theproposal; and thus they parted. 

Her mother's infirmity of purpose set Anne thinking, and she was suddenlyfilled with a conviction that in such a case she ought to have somepurpose herself. Mrs. Garland's complacency at the miller's offer had, in truth, amazed her. While her mother had held up her head, andrecommended Festus, it had seemed a very pretty thing to rebel; but thepressure being removed an awful sense of her own responsibility tookpossession of her mind. As there was no longer anybody to be wise orambitious for her, surely she should be wise and ambitious for herself, discountenance her mother's attachment, and encourage Festus in hisaddresses, for her own and her mother's good. There had been a time whena Loveday thrilled her own heart; but that was long ago, before she hadthought of position or differences. To wake into cold daylight likethis, when and because her mother had gone into the land of romance, wasdreadful and new to her, and like an increase of years without livingthem. 

But it was easier to think that she ought to marry the yeoman than totake steps for doing it; and she went on living just as before, only witha little more thoughtfulness in her eyes. 

Two days after the visit to the camp, when she was again in the garden, Soldier Loveday said to her, at a distance of five rows of beans and aparsley-bed--

'You have heard the news, Miss Garland?'

'No, ' said Anne, without looking up from a book she was reading. 

'The King is coming to-morrow. '

'The King?' She looked up then. 

'Yes; to Gloucester Lodge; and he will pass this way. He can't arrivetill long past the middle of the night, if what they say is true, that heis timed to change horses at Woodyates Inn--between Mid and SouthWessex--at twelve o'clock, ' continued Loveday, encouraged by her interestto cut off the parsley-bed from the distance between them. 

Miller Loveday came round the corner of the house. 

'Have ye heard about the King coming, Miss Maidy Anne?' he said. 

Anne said that she had just heard of it; and the trumpet-major, whohardly welcomed his father at such a moment, explained what he knew ofthe matter. 

'And you will go with your regiment to meet 'en, I suppose?' said oldLoveday. 

Young Loveday said that the men of the German Legion were to perform thatduty. And turning half from his father, and half towards Anne, he added, in a tentative tone, that he thought he might get leave for the night, ifanybody would like to be taken to the top of the Ridgeway over which theroyal party must pass. 

Anne, knowing by this time of the budding hope in the gallant dragoon'smind, and not wishing to encourage it, said, 'I don't want to go. '

The miller looked disappointed as well as John. 

'Your mother might like to?'

'Yes, I am going indoors, and I'll ask her if you wish me to, ' said she. 

She went indoors and rather coldly told her mother of the proposal. Mrs. Garland, though she had determined not to answer the miller's question onmatrimony just yet, was quite ready for this jaunt, and in spite of Anneshe sailed off at once to the garden to hear more about it. When she re-entered, she said--

'Anne, I have not seen the King or the King's horses for these manyyears; and I am going. '

'Ah, it is well to be you, mother, ' said Anne, in an elderly tone. 

'Then you won't come with us?' said Mrs. Garland, rather rebuffed. 

'I have very different things to think of, ' said her daughter withvirtuous emphasis, 'than going to see sights at that time of night. '

Mrs. Garland was sorry, but resolved to adhere to the arrangement. Thenight came on; and it having gone abroad that the King would pass by theroad, many of the villagers went out to see the procession. When the twoLovedays and Mrs. Garland were gone, Anne bolted the door for security, and sat down to think again on her grave responsibilities in the choiceof a husband, now that her natural guardian could no longer be trusted. 

A knock came to the door. 

Anne's instinct was at once to be silent, that the comer might think thefamily had retired. 

The knocking person, however, was not to be easily persuaded. He had infact seen rays of light over the top of the shutter, and, unable to getan answer, went on to the door of the mill, which was still going, themiller sometimes grinding all night when busy. The grinder accompaniedthe stranger to Mrs. Garland's door. 

'The daughter is certainly at home, sir, ' said the grinder. 'I'll goround to t'other side, and see if she's there, Master Derriman. '

'I want to take her out to see the King, ' said Festus. 

Anne had started at the sound of the voice. No opportunity could havebeen better for carrying out her new convictions on the disposal of herhand. But in her mortal dislike of Festus, Anne forgot her principles, and her idea of keeping herself above the Lovedays. Tossing on her hatand blowing out the candle, she slipped out at the back door, and hastilyfollowed in the direction that her mother and the rest had taken. Sheovertook them as they were beginning to climb the hill. 

'What! you have altered your mind after all?' said the widow. 'How cameyou to do that, my dear?'

'I thought I might as well come, ' said Anne. 

'To be sure you did, ' said the miller heartily. 'A good deal better thanbiding at home there. '

John said nothing, though she could almost see through the gloom how gladhe was that she had altered her mind. When they reached the ridge overwhich the highway stretched they found many of their neighbours who hadgot there before them idling on the grass border between the roadway andthe hedge, enjoying a sort of midnight picnic, which it was easy to do, the air being still and dry. Some carriages were also standing near, though most people of the district who possessed four wheels, or eventwo, had driven into the town to await the King there. From this heightcould be seen in the distance the position of the watering-place, anadditional number of lanterns, lamps, and candles having been lighted to-night by the loyal burghers to grace the royal entry, if it should occurbefore dawn. 

Mrs. Garland touched Anne's elbow several times as they walked, and theyoung woman at last understood that this was meant as a hint to her totake the trumpet-major's arm, which its owner was rather suggesting thanoffering to her. Anne wondered what infatuation was possessing hermother, declined to take the arm, and contrived to get in front with themiller, who mostly kept in the van to guide the others' footsteps. Thetrumpet-major was left with Mrs. Garland, and Anne's encouraging pursuitof them induced him to say a few words to the former. 

'By your leave, ma'am, I'll speak to you on something that concerns mymind very much indeed?'

'Certainly. '

'It is my wish to be allowed to pay my addresses to your daughter. '

'I thought you meant that, ' said Mrs. Garland simply. 

'And you'll not object?'

'I shall leave it to her. I don't think she will agree, even if I do. '

The soldier sighed, and seemed helpless. 'Well, I can but ask her, ' hesaid. 

The spot on which they had finally chosen to wait for the King was by afield gate, whence the white road could be seen for a long distancenorthwards by day, and some little distance now. They lingered andlingered, but no King came to break the silence of that beautiful summernight. As half-hour after half-hour glided by, and nobody came, Annebegan to get weary; she knew why her mother did not propose to go back, and regretted the reason. She would have proposed it herself, but thatMrs. Garland seemed so cheerful, and as wide awake as at noonday, so thatit was almost a cruelty to disturb her. 

The trumpet-major at last made up his mind, and tried to draw Anne into aprivate conversation. The feeling which a week ago had been a vague andpiquant aspiration, was to-day altogether too lively for the reasoning ofthis warm-hearted soldier to regulate. So he persevered in his intentionto catch her alone, and at last, in spite of her manoeuvres to thecontrary, he succeeded. The miller and Mrs. Garland had walked aboutfifty yards further on, and Anne and himself were left standing by thegate. 

But the gallant musician's soul was so much disturbed by tendervibrations and by the sense of his presumption that he could not begin;and it may be questioned if he would ever have broached the subject atall, had not a distant church clock opportunely assisted him by strikingthe hour of three. The trumpet-major heaved a breath of relief. 

'That clock strikes in G sharp, ' he said. 

'Indeed--G sharp?' said Anne civilly. 

'Yes. 'Tis a fine-toned bell. I used to notice that note when I was aboy. '

'Did you--the very same?'

'Yes; and since then I had a wager about that bell with the bandmaster ofthe North Wessex Militia. He said the note was G; I said it wasn't. Whenwe found it G sharp we didn't know how to settle it. '

'It is not a deep note for a clock. '

'O no! The finest tenor bell about here is the bell of Peter's, Casterbridge--in E flat. Tum-m-m-m--that's the note--tum-m-m-m. ' Thetrumpet-major sounded from far down his throat what he considered to be Eflat, with a parenthetic sense of luxury unquenchable even by his presentdistraction. 

'Shall we go on to where my mother is?' said Anne, less impressed by thebeauty of the note than the trumpet-major himself was. 

'In one minute, ' he said tremulously. 'Talking of music--I fear youdon't think the rank of a trumpet-major much to compare with your own?'

'I do. I think a trumpet-major a very respectable man. '

'I am glad to hear you say that. It is given out by the King's commandthat trumpet-majors are to be considered respectable. '

'Indeed! Then I am, by chance, more loyal than I thought for. '

'I get a good deal a year extra to the trumpeters, because of myposition. '

'That's very nice. '

'And I am not supposed ever to drink with the trumpeters who servebeneath me. '

'Naturally. '

'And, by the orders of the War Office, I am to exert over them (that'sthe government word) exert over them full authority; and if any onebehaves towards me with the least impropriety, or neglects my orders, heis to be confined and reported. '

'It is really a dignified post, ' she said, with, however, a reserve ofenthusiasm which was not altogether encouraging. 

'And of course some day I shall, ' stammered the dragoon--'shall be inrather a better position than I am at present. '

'I am glad to hear it, Mr. Loveday. '

'And in short, Mistress Anne, ' continued John Loveday bravely anddesperately, 'may I pay court to you in the hope that--no, no, don't goaway!--you haven't heard yet--that you may make me the happiest of men;not yet, but when peace is proclaimed and all is smooth and easy again? Ican't put it any better, though there's more to be explained. '

'This is most awkward, ' said Anne, evidently with pain. 'I cannotpossibly agree; believe me, Mr. Loveday, I cannot. '

'But there's more than this. You would be surprised to see what snugrooms the married trumpet- and sergeant-majors have in quarters. '

'Barracks are not all; consider camp and war. '

'That brings me to my strong point!' exclaimed the soldier hopefully. 'Myfather is better off than most non-commissioned officers' fathers; andthere's always a home for you at his house in any emergency. I can tellyou privately that he has enough to keep us both, and if you wouldn'thear of barracks, well, peace once established, I'd live at home as amiller and farmer--next door to your own mother. '

'My mother would be sure to object, ' expostulated Anne. 

'No; she leaves it all to you. '

'What! you have asked her?' said Anne, with surprise. 

'Yes. I thought it would not be honourable to act otherwise. '

'That's very good of you, ' said Anne, her face warming with a generoussense of his straightforwardness. 'But my mother is so entirely ignorantof a soldier's life, and the life of a soldier's wife--she is so simplein all such matters, that I cannot listen to you any more readily forwhat she may say. '

'Then it is all over for me, ' said the poor trumpet-major, wiping hisface and putting away his handkerchief with an air of finality. 

Anne was silent. Any woman who has ever tried will know withoutexplanation what an unpalatable task it is to dismiss, even when she doesnot love him, a man who has all the natural and moral qualities she woulddesire, and only fails in the social. Would-be lovers are not sonumerous, even with the best women, that the sacrifice of one can be feltas other than a good thing wasted, in a world where there are few goodthings. 

'You are not angry, Miss Garland?' said he, finding that she did notspeak. 

'O no. Don't let us say anything more about this now. ' And she movedon. 

When she drew near to the miller and her mother she perceived that theywere engaged in a conversation of that peculiar kind which is all themore full and communicative from the fact of definitive words being few. In short, here the game was succeeding which with herself had failed. Itwas pretty clear from the symptoms, marks, tokens, telegraphs, andgeneral byplay between widower and widow, that Miller Loveday must haveagain said to Mrs. Garland some such thing as he had said before, withwhat result this time she did not know. 

As the situation was delicate, Anne halted awhile apart from them. Thetrumpet-major, quite ignorant of how his cause was entered into by thewhite-coated man in the distance (for his father had not yet told him ofhis designs upon Mrs. Garland), did not advance, but stood still by thegate, as though he were attending a princess, waiting till he should becalled up. Thus they lingered, and the day began to break. Mrs. Garlandand the miller took no heed of the time, and what it was bringing toearth and sky, so occupied were they with themselves; but Anne in herplace and the trumpet-major in his, each in private thought of no brightkind, watched the gradual glory of the east through all its tones andchanges. The world of birds and insects got lively, the blue and theyellow and the gold of Loveday's uniform again became distinct; the sunbored its way upward, the fields, the trees, and the distant landscapekindled to flame, and the trumpet-major, backed by a lilac shadow as tallas a steeple, blazed in the rays like a very god of war. 

It was half-past three o'clock. A short time after, a rattle of horsesand wheels reached their ears from the quarter in which they gazed, andthere appeared upon the white line of road a moving mass, which presentlyascended the hill and drew near. 

Then there arose a huzza from the few knots of watchers gathered there, and they cried, 'Long live King Jarge!' The cortege passed abreast. Itconsisted of three travelling-carriages, escorted by a detachment of theGerman Legion. Anne was told to look in the first carriage--apost-chariot drawn by four horses--for the King and Queen, and wasrewarded by seeing a profile reminding her of the current coin of therealm; but as the party had been travelling all night, and the spectatorshere gathered were few, none of the royal family looked out of thecarriage windows. It was said that the two elder princesses were in thesame carriage, but they remained invisible. The next vehicle, a coachand four, contained more princesses, and the third some of theirattendants. 

'Thank God, I have seen my King!' said Mrs. Garland, when they had allgone by. 

Nobody else expressed any thankfulness, for most of them had expected amore pompous procession than the bucolic tastes of the King cared toindulge in; and one old man said grimly that that sight of dusty oldleather coaches was not worth waiting for. Anne looked hither andthither in the bright rays of the day, each of her eyes having a littlesun in it, which gave her glance a peculiar golden fire, and kindled thebrown curls grouped over her forehead to a yellow brilliancy, and madesingle hairs, blown astray by the night, look like lacquered wires. Shewas wondering if Festus were anywhere near, but she could not see him. 

Before they left the ridge they turned their attention towards the Royalwatering-place, which was visible at this place only as a portion of thesea-shore, from which the night-mist was rolling slowly back. The seabeyond was still wrapped in summer fog, the ships in the roads showingthrough it as black spiders suspended in the air. While they looked andwalked a white jet of smoke burst from a spot which the miller knew to bethe battery in front of the King's residence, and then the report of gunsreached their ears. This announcement was answered by a salute from theCastle of the adjoining Isle, and the ships in the neighbouringanchorage. All the bells in the town began ringing. The King and hisfamily had arrived. 

XII. HOW EVERYBODY GREAT AND SMALL CLIMBED TO THE TOP OF THE DOWNS

As the days went on, echoes of the life and bustle of the town reachedthe ears of the quiet people in Overcombe hollow--exciting and movingthose unimportant natives as a ground-swell moves the weeds in a cave. Travelling-carriages of all kinds and colours climbed and descended theroad that led towards the seaside borough. Some contained thosepersonages of the King's suite who had not kept pace with him in hisjourney from Windsor; others were the coaches of aristocracy, big andlittle, whom news of the King's arrival drew thither for their ownpleasure: so that the highway, as seen from the hills about Overcombe, appeared like an ant-walk--a constant succession of dark spots creepingalong its surface at nearly uniform rates of progress, and all in onedirection. 

The traffic and intelligence between camp and town passed in a measureover the villagers' heads. It being summer time the miller was muchoccupied with business, and the trumpet-major was too constantly engagedin marching between the camp and Gloucester Lodge with the rest of thedragoons to bring his friends any news for some days. 

At last he sent a message that there was to be a review on the downs bythe King, and that it was fixed for the day following. This informationsoon spread through the village and country round, and next morning thewhole population of Overcombe--except two or three very old men andwomen, a few babies and their nurses, a cripple, and CorporalTullidge--ascended the slope with the crowds from afar, and awaited theevents of the day. 

The miller wore his best coat on this occasion, which meant a good deal. An Overcombe man in those days would have a best coat, and keep it as abest coat half his life. The miller's had seen five and twenty summerschiefly through the chinks of a clothes-box, and was not at all shabby asyet, though getting singular. But that could not be helped; common coatsand best coats were distinct species, and never interchangeable. Livingso near the scene of the review he walked up the hill, accompanied byMrs. Garland and Anne as usual. 

It was a clear day, with little wind stirring, and the view from thedowns, one of the most extensive in the county, was unclouded. The eyeof any observer who cared for such things swept over the wave-washedtown, and the bay beyond, and the Isle, with its pebble bank, lying onthe sea to the left of these, like a great crouching animal tethered tothe mainland. On the extreme east of the marine horizon, St. Aldhelm'sHead closed the scene, the sea to the southward of that point glaringlike a mirror under the sun. Inland could be seen Badbury Rings, where abeacon had been recently erected; and nearer, Rainbarrow, on Egdon Heath, where another stood: farther to the left Bulbarrow, where there was yetanother. Not far from this came Nettlecombe Tout; to the west, DogberryHill, and Black'on near to the foreground, the beacon thereon being builtof furze faggots thatched with straw, and standing on the spot where themonument now raises its head. 

At nine o'clock the troops marched upon the ground--some from the campsin the vicinity, and some from quarters in the different towns roundabout. The approaches to the down were blocked with carriages of alldescriptions, ages, and colours, and with pedestrians of every class. Atten the royal personages were said to be drawing near, and soon after theKing, accompanied by the Dukes of Cambridge and Cumberland, and a coupleof generals, appeared on horseback, wearing a round hat turned up at theside, with a cockade and military feather. (Sensation among the crowd. )Then the Queen and three of the princesses entered the field in a greatcoach drawn by six beautiful cream-coloured horses. Another coach, withfour horses of the same sort, brought the two remaining princesses. (Confused acclamations, 'There's King Jarge!' 'That's Queen Sharlett!''Princess 'Lizabeth!' 'Princesses Sophiar and Meelyer!' etc. , from thesurrounding spectators. )

Anne and her party were fortunate enough to secure a position on the topof one of the barrows which rose here and there on the down; and themiller having gallantly constructed a little cairn of flints, he placedthe two women thereon, by which means they were enabled to see over theheads, horses, and coaches of the multitudes below and around. At themarch-past the miller's eye, which had been wandering about for thepurpose, discovered his son in his place by the trumpeters, who had movedforwards in two ranks, and were sounding the march. 

'That's John!' he cried to the widow. 'His trumpet-sling is of twocolours, d'ye see; and the others be plain. '

Mrs. Garland too saw him now, and enthusiastically admired him from herhands upwards, and Anne silently did the same. But before the youngwoman's eyes had quite left the trumpet-major they fell upon the figureof Yeoman Festus riding with his troop, and keeping his face at a mediumbetween haughtiness and mere bravery. He certainly looked as soldierlyas any of his own corps, and felt more soldierly than half-a-dozen, asanybody could see by observing him. Anne got behind the miller, in caseFestus should discover her, and, regardless of his monarch, rush upon herin a rage with, 'Why the devil did you run away from me that night--hey, madam?' But she resolved to think no more of him just now, and to stickto Loveday, who was her mother's friend. In this she was helped by thestirring tones which burst from the latter gentleman and his subordinatesfrom time to time. 

'Well, ' said the miller complacently, 'there's few of more consequence ina regiment than a trumpeter. He's the chap that tells 'em what to do, after all. Hey, Mrs. Garland?'

'So he is, miller, ' said she. 

'They could no more do without Jack and his men than they could withoutgenerals. '

'Indeed they could not, ' said Mrs. Garland again, in a tone of pleasantagreement with any one in Great Britain or Ireland. 

It was said that the line that day was three miles long, reaching fromthe high ground on the right of where the people stood to the turnpikeroad on the left. After the review came a sham fight, during whichaction the crowd dispersed more widely over the downs, enabling WidowGarland to get still clearer glimpses of the King, and his handsomecharger, and the head of the Queen, and the elbows and shoulders of theprincesses in the carriages, and fractional parts of General Garth andthe Duke of Cumberland; which sights gave her great gratification. Shetugged at her daughter at every opportunity, exclaiming, 'Now you can seehis feather!' 'There's her hat!' 'There's her Majesty's India muslinshawl!' in a minor form of ecstasy, that made the miller think her moregirlish and animated than her daughter Anne. 

In those military manoeuvres the miller followed the fortunes of one man;Anne Garland of two. The spectators, who, unlike our party, had nopersonal interest in the soldiery, saw only troops and battalions in theconcrete, straight lines of red, straight lines of blue, white linesformed of innumerable knee-breeches, black lines formed of many gaiters, coming and going in kaleidoscopic change. Who thought of every point inthe line as an isolated man, each dwelling all to himself in thehermitage of his own mind? One person did, a young man far removed fromthe barrow where the Garlands and Miller Loveday stood. The naturalexpression of his face was somewhat obscured by the bronzing effects ofrough weather, but the lines of his mouth showed that affectionateimpulses were strong within him--perhaps stronger than judgment wellcould regulate. He wore a blue jacket with little brass buttons, and wasplainly a seafaring man. 

Meanwhile, in the part of the plain where rose the tumulus on which themiller had established himself, a broad-brimmed tradesman was elbowinghis way along. He saw Mr. Loveday from the base of the barrow, andbeckoned to attract his attention. Loveday went halfway down, and theother came up as near as he could. 

'Miller, ' said the man, 'a letter has been lying at the post-office foryou for the last three days. If I had known that I should see ye hereI'd have brought it along with me. '

The miller thanked him for the news, and they parted, Loveday returningto the summit. 'What a very strange thing!' he said to Mrs. Garland, whohad looked inquiringly at his face, now very grave. 'That was Budmouthpostmaster, and he says there's a letter for me. Ah, I now call to mindthat there _was_ a letter in the candle three days ago this very night--alarge red one; but foolish-like I thought nothing o't. Who _can_ thatletter be from?'

A letter at this time was such an event for hamleteers, even of themiller's respectable standing, that Loveday thenceforward was thrown intoa fit of abstraction which prevented his seeing any more of the shamfight, or the people, or the King. Mrs. Garland imbibed some of hisconcern, and suggested that the letter might come from his son Robert. 

'I should naturally have thought that, ' said Miller Loveday; 'but hewrote to me only two months ago, and his brother John heard from himwithin the last four weeks, when he was just about starting on anothervoyage. If you'll pardon me, Mrs. Garland, ma'am, I'll see if there'sany Overcombe man here who is going to Budmouth to-day, so that I may getthe letter by night-time. I cannot possibly go myself. '

So Mr. Loveday left them for awhile; and as they were so near home Mrs. Garland did not wait on the barrow for him to come back, but walked aboutwith Anne a little time, until they should be disposed to trot down theslope to their own door. They listened to a man who was offering oneguinea to receive ten in case Buonaparte should be killed in threemonths, and to other entertainments of that nature, which at this timewere not rare. Once during their peregrination the eyes of the sailorbefore-mentioned fell upon Anne; but he glanced over her and passed herunheedingly by. Loveday the elder was at this time on the other side ofthe line, looking for a messenger to the town. At twelve o'clock thereview was over, and the King and his family left the hill. The troopsthen cleared off the field, the spectators followed, and by one o'clockthe downs were again bare. 

They still spread their grassy surface to the sun as on that beautifulmorning not, historically speaking, so very long ago; but the King andhis fifteen thousand armed men, the horses, the bands of music, theprincesses, the cream-coloured teams--the gorgeous centre-piece, inshort, to which the downs were but the mere mount or margin--how entirelyhave they all passed and gone!--lying scattered about the world asmilitary and other dust, some at Talavera, Albuera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Toulouse, and Waterloo; some in home churchyards; and a few smallhandfuls in royal vaults. 

In the afternoon John Loveday, lightened of his trumpet and trappings, appeared at the old mill-house door, and beheld Anne standing at hers. 

'I saw you, Miss Garland, ' said the soldier gaily. 

'Where was I?' said she, smiling. 

'On the top of the big mound--to the right of the King. '

'And I saw you; lots of times, ' she rejoined. 

Loveday seemed pleased. 'Did you really take the trouble to find me?That was very good of you. '

'Her eyes followed you everywhere, ' said Mrs. Garland from an upperwindow. 

'Of course I looked at the dragoons most, ' said Anne, disconcerted. 'Andwhen I looked at them my eyes naturally fell upon the trumpets. I lookedat the dragoons generally, no more. '

She did not mean to show any vexation to the trumpet-major, but hefancied otherwise, and stood repressed. The situation was relieved bythe arrival of the miller, still looking serious. 

'I am very much concerned, John; I did not go to the review for nothing. There's a letter a-waiting for me at Budmouth, and I must get it beforebedtime, or I shan't sleep a wink. '

'I'll go, of course, ' said John; 'and perhaps Miss Garland would like tosee what's doing there to-day? Everybody is gone or going; the road islike a fair. '

He spoke pleadingly, but Anne was not won to assent. 

'You can drive in the gig; 'twill do Blossom good, ' said the miller. 

'Let David drive Miss Garland, ' said the trumpet-major, not wishing tocoerce her; 'I would just as soon walk. '

Anne joyfully welcomed this arrangement, and a time was fixed for thestart. 

XIII. THE CONVERSATION IN THE CROWD

In the afternoon they drove off, John Loveday being nowhere visible. Allalong the road they passed and were overtaken by vehicles of alldescriptions going in the same direction; among them the extraordinarymachines which had been invented for the conveyance of troops to anypoint of the coast on which the enemy should land; they consisted of fourboards placed across a sort of trolly, thirty men of the volunteercompanies riding on each. 

The popular Georgian watering-place was in a paroxysm of gaiety. Thetown was quite overpowered by the country round, much to the town'sdelight and profit. The fear of invasion was such that six frigates layin the roads to ensure the safety of the royal family, and from theregiments of horse and foot quartered at the barracks, or encamped on thehills round about, a picket of a thousand men mounted guard every day infront of Gloucester Lodge, where the King resided. When Anne and herattendant reached this point, which they did on foot, stabling the horseon the outskirts of the town, it was about six o'clock. The King was onthe Esplanade, and the soldiers were just marching past to mount guard. The band formed in front of the King, and all the officers saluted asthey went by. 

Anne now felt herself close to and looking into the stream of recordedhistory, within whose banks the littlest things are great, and outsidewhich she and the general bulk of the human race were content to live onas an unreckoned, unheeded superfluity. 

When she turned from her interested gaze at this scene, there stood JohnLoveday. She had had a presentiment that he would turn up in thismysterious way. It was marvellous that he could have got there soquickly; but there he was--not looking at the King, or at the crowd, butwaiting for the turn of her head. 

'Trumpet-major, I didn't see you, ' said Anne demurely. 'How is it thatyour regiment is not marching past?'

'We take it by turns, and it is not our turn, ' said Loveday. 

She wanted to know then if they were afraid that the King would becarried off by the First Consul. Yes, Loveday told her; and his Majestywas rather venturesome. A day or two before he had gone so far to seathat he was nearly caught by some of the enemy's cruisers. 'He isanxious to fight Boney single-handed, ' he said. 

'What a good, brave King!' said Anne. 

Loveday seemed anxious to come to more personal matters. 'Will you letme take you round to the other side, where you can see better?' he asked. 'The Queen and the princesses are at the window. '

Anne passively assented. 'David, wait here for me, ' she said; 'I shallbe back again in a few minutes. '

The trumpet-major then led her off triumphantly, and they skirted thecrowd and came round on the side towards the sands. He told hereverything he could think of, military and civil, to which Anne returnedpretty syllables and parenthetic words about the colour of the sea andthe curl of the foam--a way of speaking that moved the soldier's hearteven more than long and direct speeches would have done. 

'And that other thing I asked you?' he ventured to say at last. 

'We won't speak of it. '

'You don't dislike me?'

'O no!' she said, gazing at the bathing-machines, digging children, andother common objects of the seashore, as if her interest lay there ratherthan with him. 

'But I am not worthy of the daughter of a genteel professional man--that'swhat you mean?'

'There's something more than worthiness required in such cases, youknow, ' she said, still without calling her mind away from surroundingscenes. 'Ah, there are the Queen and princesses at the window!'

'Something more?'

'Well, since you will make me speak, I mean the woman ought to love theman. '

The trumpet-major seemed to be less concerned about this than about hersupposed superiority. 'If it were all right on that point, would youmind the other?' he asked, like a man who knows he is too persistent, yetwho cannot be still. 

'How can I say, when I don't know? What a pretty chip hat the elderprincess wears?'

Her companion's general disappointment extended over him almost to hislace and his plume. 'Your mother said, you know, Miss Anne--'

'Yes, that's the worst of it, ' she said. 'Let us go back to David; Ihave seen all I want to see, Mr. Loveday. '

The mass of the people had by this time noticed the Queen and princessesat the window, and raised a cheer, to which the ladies waved theirembroidered handkerchiefs. Anne went back towards the pavement with hertrumpet-major, whom all the girls envied her, so fine-looking a soldierwas he; and not only for that, but because it was well known that he wasnot a soldier from necessity, but from patriotism, his father havingrepeatedly offered to set him up in business: his artistic taste inpreferring a horse and uniform to a dirty, rumbling flour-mill wasadmired by all. She, too, had a very nice appearance in her best clothesas she walked along--the sarcenet hat, muslin shawl, and tight-sleevedgown being of the newest Overcombe fashion, that was only about a yearold in the adjoining town, and in London three or four. She could not beharsh to Loveday and dismiss him curtly, for his musical pursuits hadrefined him, educated him, and made him quite poetical. To-day he hadbeen particularly well-mannered and tender; so, instead of answering, 'Never speak to me like this again, ' she merely put him off with a 'Letus go back to David. '

When they reached the place where they had left him David was gone. 

Anne was now positively vexed. 'What _shall_ I do?' she said. 

'He's only gone to drink the King's health, ' said Loveday, who hadprivately given David the money for performing that operation. 'Dependupon it, he'll be back soon. '

'Will you go and find him?' said she, with intense propriety in her looksand tone. 

'I will, ' said Loveday reluctantly; and he went. 

Anne stood still. She could now escape her gallant friend, for, althoughthe distance was long, it was not impossible to walk home. On the otherhand, Loveday was a good and sincere fellow, for whom she had almost abrotherly feeling, and she shrank from such a trick. While she stood andmused, scarcely heeding the music, the marching of the soldiers, theKing, the dukes, the brilliant staff, the attendants, and the happygroups of people, her eyes fell upon the ground. 

Before her she saw a flower lying--a crimson sweet-william--fresh anduninjured. An instinctive wish to save it from destruction by thepassengers' feet led her to pick it up; and then, moved by a sudden self-consciousness, she looked around. She was standing before an inn, andfrom an upper window Festus Derriman was leaning with two or threekindred spirits of his cut and kind. He nodded eagerly, and signified toher that he had thrown the flower. 

What should she do? To throw it away would seem stupid, and to keep itwas awkward. She held it between her finger and thumb, twirled it roundon its axis and twirled it back again, regarding and yet not examiningit. Just then she saw the trumpet-major coming back. 

'I can't find David anywhere, ' he said; and his heart was not sorry as hesaid it. 

Anne was still holding out the sweet-william as if about to drop it, and, scarcely knowing what she did under the distressing sense that she waswatched, she offered the flower to Loveday. 

His face brightened with pleasure as he took it. 'Thank you, indeed, ' hesaid. 

Then Anne saw what a misleading blunder she had committed towards Lovedayin playing to the yeoman. Perhaps she had sown the seeds of a quarrel. 

'It was not my sweet-william, ' she said hastily; 'it was lying on theground. I don't mean anything by giving it to you. '

'But I'll keep it all the same, ' said the innocent soldier, as if he knewa good deal about womankind; and he put the flower carefully inside hisjacket, between his white waistcoat and his heart. 

Festus, seeing this, enlarged himself wrathfully, got hot in the face, rose to his feet, and glared down upon them like a turnip-lantern. 

'Let us go away, ' said Anne timorously. 

'I'll see you safe to your own door, depend upon me, ' said Loveday. 'But--I had near forgot--there's father's letter, that he's so anxiouslywaiting for! Will you come with me to the post-office? Then I'll takeyou straight home. '

Anne, expecting Festus to pounce down every minute, was glad to be offanywhere; so she accepted the suggestion, and they went along the paradetogether. 

Loveday set this down as a proof of Anne's relenting. Thus in joyfulspirits he entered the office, paid the postage, and received the letter. 

'It is from Bob, after all!' he said. 'Father told me to read it atonce, in case of bad news. Ask your pardon for keeping you a moment. ' Hebroke the seal and read, Anne standing silently by. 

'He is coming home _to be married_, ' said the trumpet-major, withoutlooking up. 

Anne did not answer. The blood swept impetuously up her face at hiswords, and as suddenly went away again, leaving her rather paler thanbefore. She disguised her agitation and then overcame it, Lovedayobserving nothing of this emotional performance. 

'As far as I can understand he will be here Saturday, ' he said. 

'Indeed!' said Anne quite calmly. 'And who is he going to marry?'

'That I don't know, ' said John, turning the letter about. 'The woman isa stranger. '

At this moment the miller entered the office hastily. 

'Come, John, ' he cried, 'I have been waiting and waiting for that thereletter till I was nigh crazy!'

John briefly explained the news, and when his father had recovered fromhis astonishment, taken off his hat, and wiped the exact line where hisforehead joined his hair, he walked with Anne up the street, leaving Johnto return alone. The miller was so absorbed in his mental perspective ofBob's marriage, that he saw nothing of the gaieties they passed through;and Anne seemed also so much impressed by the same intelligence, that shecrossed before the inn occupied by Festus without showing a recollectionof his presence there. 

XIV. LATER IN THE EVENING OF THE SAME DAY

When they reached home the sun was going down. It had already beennoised abroad that miller Loveday had received a letter, and, his carthaving been heard coming up the lane, the population of Overcombe drewdown towards the mill as soon as he had gone indoors--a sudden flash ofbrightness from the window showing that he had struck such an early lightas nothing but the immediate deciphering of literature could require. Letters were matters of public moment, and everybody in the parish had aninterest in the reading of those rare documents; so that when the millerhad placed the candle, slanted himself, and called in Mrs. Garland tohave her opinion on the meaning of any hieroglyphics that he mightencounter in his course, he found that he was to be additionally assistedby the opinions of the other neighbours, whose persons appeared in thedoorway, partly covering each other like a hand of cards, yet eachshowing a large enough piece of himself for identification. To pass thetime while they were arranging themselves, the miller adopted his usualway of filling up casual intervals, that of snuffing the candle. 

'We heard you had got a letter, Maister Loveday, ' they said. 

'Yes; "Southampton, the twelfth of August, dear father, "' said Loveday;and they were as silent as relations at the reading of a will. Anne, forwhom the letter had a singular fascination, came in with her mother andsat down. 

Bob stated in his own way that having, since landing, taken intoconsideration his father's wish that he should renounce a seafaring lifeand become a partner in the mill, he had decided to agree to theproposal; and with that object in view he would return to Overcombe inthree days from the time of writing. 

He then said incidentally that since his voyage he had been in lodgingsat Southampton, and during that time had become acquainted with a lovelyand virtuous young maiden, in whom he found the exact qualities necessaryto his happiness. Having known this lady for the full space of afortnight he had had ample opportunities of studying her character, and, being struck with the recollection that, if there was one thing more thananother necessary in a mill which had no mistress, it was somebody whocould play that part with grace and dignity, he had asked Miss MatildaJohnson to be his wife. In her kindness she, though sacrificing farbetter prospects, had agreed; and he could not but regard it as a happychance that he should have found at the nick of time such a woman toadorn his home, whose innocence was as stunning as her beauty. Withoutmuch ado, therefore, he and she had arranged to be married at once, andat Overcombe, that his father might not be deprived of the pleasures ofthe wedding feast. She had kindly consented to follow him by land in thecourse of a few days, and to live in the house as their guest for theweek or so previous to the ceremony. 

''Tis a proper good letter, ' said Mrs. Comfort from the background. 'Inever heerd true love better put out of hand in my life; and they seem'nation fond of one another. '

'He haven't knowed her such a very long time, ' said Job Mitchelldubiously. 

'That's nothing, ' said Esther Beach. 'Nater will find her way, veryrapid when the time's come for't. Well, 'tis good news for ye, miller. '

'Yes, sure, I hope 'tis, ' said Loveday, without, however, showing anygreat hurry to burst into the frantic form of fatherly joy which theevent should naturally have produced, seeming more disposed to let offhis feelings by examining thoroughly into the fibres of the letter-paper. 

'I was five years a-courting my wife, ' he presently remarked. 'But folkswere slower about everything in them days. Well, since she's coming wemust make her welcome. Did any of ye catch by my reading which day it ishe means? What with making out the penmanship, my mind was drawn offfrom the sense here and there. '

'He says in three days, ' said Mrs. Garland. 'The date of the letter willfix it. '

On examination it was found that the day appointed was the one nearlyexpired; at which the miller jumped up and said, 'Then he'll be herebefore bedtime. I didn't gather till now that he was coming aforeSaturday. Why, he may drop in this very minute!'

He had scarcely spoken when footsteps were heard coming along the front, and they presently halted at the door. Loveday pushed through theneighbours and rushed out; and, seeing in the passage a form whichobscured the declining light, the miller seized hold of him, saying, 'Omy dear Bob; then you are come!'

'Scrounch it all, miller, don't quite pull my poor shoulder out of joint!Whatever is the matter?' said the new-comer, trying to release himselffrom Loveday's grasp of affection. It was Uncle Benjy. 

'Thought 'twas my son!' faltered the miller, sinking back upon the toesof the neighbours who had closely followed him into the entry. 'Well, come in, Mr. Derriman, and make yerself at home. Why, you haven't beenhere for years! Whatever has made you come now, sir, of all times in theworld?'

'Is he in there with ye?' whispered the farmer with misgiving. 

'Who?'

'My nephew, after that maid that he's so mighty smit with?'

'O no; he never calls here. '

Farmer Derriman breathed a breath of relief. 'Well, I've called to tellye, ' he said, 'that there's more news of the French. We shall have 'emhere this month as sure as a gun. The gunboats be all ready--near twothousand of 'em--and the whole army is at Boulogne. And, miller, I knowye to be an honest man. '

Loveday did not say nay. 

'Neighbour Loveday, I know ye to be an honest man, ' repeated the oldsquireen. 'Can I speak to ye alone?'

As the house was full, Loveday took him into the garden, all the whileupon tenter-hooks, not lest Buonaparte should appear in their midst, butlest Bob should come whilst he was not there to receive him. When theyhad got into a corner Uncle Benjy said, 'Miller, what with the French, and what with my nephew Festus, I assure ye my life is nothing butwherrit from morning to night. Miller Loveday, you are an honest man. '

Loveday nodded. 

'Well, I've come to ask a favour--to ask if you will take charge of myfew poor title-deeds and documents and suchlike, while I am away fromhome next week, lest anything should befall me, and they should be stoleaway by Boney or Festus, and I should have nothing left in the wideworld? I can trust neither banks nor lawyers in these terrible times;and I am come to you. '

Loveday after some hesitation agreed to take care of anything thatDerriman should bring, whereupon the farmer said he would call with theparchments and papers alluded to in the course of a week. Derriman thenwent away by the garden gate, mounted his pony, which had been tetheredoutside, and rode on till his form was lost in the shades. 

The miller rejoined his friends, and found that in the meantime John hadarrived. John informed the company that after parting from his fatherand Anne he had rambled to the harbour, and discovered the Pewit by thequay. On inquiry he had learnt that she came in at eleven o'clock, andthat Bob had gone ashore. 

'We'll go and meet him, ' said the miller. ''Tis still light out ofdoors. '

So, as the dew rose from the meads and formed fleeces in the hollows, Loveday and his friends and neighbours strolled out, and loitered by thestiles which hampered the footpath from Overcombe to the high road atintervals of a hundred yards. John Loveday, being obliged to return tocamp, was unable to accompany them, but Widow Garland thought proper tofall in with the procession. When she had put on her bonnet she calledto her daughter. Anne said from upstairs that she was coming in aminute; and her mother walked on without her. 

What was Anne doing? Having hastily unlocked a receptacle for emotionalobjects of small size, she took thence the little folded paper with whichwe have already become acquainted, and, striking a light from her privatetinder-box, she held the paper, and curl of hair it contained, in thecandle till they were burnt. Then she put on her hat and followed hermother and the rest of them across the moist grey fields, cheerfullysinging in an undertone as she went, to assure herself of herindifference to circumstances. 

XV. 'CAPTAIN' BOB LOVEDAY OF THE MERCHANT SERVICE

While Loveday and his neighbours were thus rambling forth, full ofexpectancy, some of them, including Anne in the rear, heard the cracklingof light wheels along the curved lane to which the path was the chord. Atonce Anne thought, 'Perhaps that's he, and we are missing him. ' Butrecent events were not of a kind to induce her to say anything; and theothers of the company did not reflect on the sound. 

Had they gone across to the hedge which hid the lane, and looked throughit, they would have seen a light cart driven by a boy, beside whom wasseated a seafaring man, apparently of good standing in the merchantservice, with his feet outside on the shaft. The vehicle went over themain bridge, turned in upon the other bridge at the tail of the mill, andhalted by the door. The sailor alighted, showing himself to be a well-shaped, active, and fine young man, with a bright eye, an anonymous nose, and of such a rich complexion by exposure to ripening suns that he mighthave been some connexion of the foreigner who calls his likeness thePortrait of a Gentleman in galleries of the Old Masters. Yet in spite ofthis, and though Bob Loveday had been all over the world from Cape Hornto Pekin, and from India's coral strand to the White Sea, the mostconspicuous of all the marks that he had brought back with him was anincreased resemblance to his mother, who had lain all the time beneathOvercombe church wall. 

Captain Loveday tried the house door; finding this locked he went to themill door: this was locked also, the mill being stopped for the night. 

'They are not at home, ' he said to the boy. 'But never mind that. Justhelp to unload the things and then I'll pay you, and you can drive offhome. '

The cart was unloaded, and the boy was dismissed, thanking the sailorprofusely for the payment rendered. Then Bob Loveday, finding that hehad still some leisure on his hands, looked musingly east, west, north, south, and nadir; after which he bestirred himself by carrying his goods, article by article, round to the back door, out of the way of casualpassers. This done, he walked round the mill in a more regardfulattitude, and surveyed its familiar features one by one--the panes of thegrinding-room, now as heretofore clouded with flour as with stale hoar-frost; the meal lodged in the corners of the window-sills, forming a soilin which lichens grew without ever getting any bigger, as they had donesince his smallest infancy; the mosses on the plinth towards the river, reaching as high as the capillary power of the walls would fetch upmoisture for their nourishment, and the penned mill-pond, now as ever onthe point of overflowing into the garden. Everything was the same. 

When he had had enough of this it occurred to Loveday that he might getinto the house in spite of the locked doors; and by entering the garden, placing a pole from the fork of an apple-tree to the window-sill of abedroom on that side, and climbing across like a Barbary ape, he enteredthe window and stepped down inside. There was something anomalous inbeing close to the familiar furniture without having first seen hisfather, and its silent, impassive shine was not cheering; it was as ifhis relations were all dead, and only their tables and chests of drawersleft to greet him. He went downstairs and seated himself in the darkparlour. Finding this place, too, rather solitary, and the tick of theinvisible clock preternaturally loud, he unearthed the tinder-box, obtained a light, and set about making the house comfortable for hisfather's return, divining that the miller had gone out to meet him by thewrong road. 

Robert's interest in this work increased as he proceeded, and he bustledround and round the kitchen as lightly as a girl. David, the indoorfactotum, having lost himself among the quart pots of Budmouth, there hadbeen nobody left here to prepare supper, and Bob had it all to himself. In a short time a fire blazed up the chimney, a tablecloth was found, theplates were clapped down, and a search made for what provisions the houseafforded, which, in addition to various meats, included some fresh eggsof the elongated shape that produces cockerels when hatched, and had beenset aside on that account for putting under the next broody hen. 

A more reckless cracking of eggs than that which now went on had neverbeen known in Overcombe since the last large christening; and as Lovedaygashed one on the side, another at the end, another longways, and anotherdiagonally, he acquired adroitness by practice, and at last made everyson of a hen of them fall into two hemispheres as neatly as if it openedby a hinge. From eggs he proceeded to ham, and from ham to kidneys, theresult being a brilliant fry. 

Not to be tempted to fall to before his father came back, the returnednavigator emptied the whole into a dish, laid a plate over the top, hiscoat over the plate, and his hat over his coat. Thus completely stoppingin the appetizing smell, he sat down to await events. He was relievedfrom the tediousness of doing this by hearing voices outside; and in aminute his father entered. 

'Glad to welcome ye home, father, ' said Bob. 'And supper is just ready. '

'Lard, lard--why, Captain Bob's here!' said Mrs. Garland. 

'And we've been out waiting to meet thee!' said the miller, as he enteredthe room, followed by representatives of the houses of Cripplestraw, Comfort, Mitchell, Beach, and Snooks, together with some small beginningsof Fencible Tremlett's posterity. In the rear came David, and quite inthe vanishing-point of the composition, Anne the fair. 

'I drove over; and so was forced to come by the road, ' said Bob. 

'And we went across the fields, thinking you'd walk, ' said his father. 

'I should have been here this morning; but not so much as a wheelbarrowcould I get for my traps; everything was gone to the review. So I wenttoo, thinking I might meet you there. I was then obliged to return tothe harbour for the luggage. '

Then there was a welcoming of Captain Bob by pulling out his arms likedrawers and shutting them again, smacking him on the back as if he werechoking, holding him at arm's length as if he were of too large type toread close. All which persecution Bob bore with a wide, genial smilethat was shaken into fragments and scattered promiscuously among thespectators. 

'Get a chair for 'n!' said the miller to David, whom they had met in thefields and found to have got nothing worse by his absence than a slightslant in his walk. 

'Never mind--I am not tired--I have been here ever so long, ' said Bob. 'And I--' But the chair having been placed behind him, and a smart touchin the hollow of a person's knee by the edge of that piece of furniturehaving a tendency to make the person sit without further argument, Bobsank down dumb, and the others drew up other chairs at a convenientnearness for easy analytic vision and the subtler forms of goodfellowship. The miller went about saying, 'David, the nine best glassesfrom the corner cupboard!'--'David, the corkscrew!'--'David, whisk thetail of thy smock-frock round the inside of these quart pots afore youdraw drink in 'em--they be an inch thick in dust!'--'David, lower thatchimney-crook a couple of notches that the flame may touch the bottom ofthe kettle, and light three more of the largest candles!'--'If you can'tget the cork out of the jar, David, bore a hole in the tub of Hollandsthat's buried under the scroff in the fuel-house; d'ye hear?--Dan Brownleft en there yesterday as a return for the little porker I gied en. '

When they had all had a thimbleful round, and the superfluous neighbourshad reluctantly departed, one by one, the inmates gave their minds to thesupper, which David had begun to serve up. 

'What be you rolling back the tablecloth for, David?' said the miller. 

'Maister Bob have put down one of the under sheets by mistake, and Ithought you might not like it, sir, as there's ladies present!'

'Faith, 'twas the first thing that came to hand, ' said Robert. 'Itseemed a tablecloth to me. '

'Never mind--don't pull off the things now he's laid 'em down--let itbide, ' said the miller. 'But where's Widow Garland and Maidy Anne?'

'They were here but a minute ago, ' said David. 'Depend upon it they haveslinked off 'cause they be shy. '

The miller at once went round to ask them to come back and sup with him;and while he was gone David told Bob in confidence what an excellentplace he had for an old man. 

'Yes, Cap'n Bob, as I suppose I must call ye; I've worked for yer fatherthese eight-and-thirty years, and we have always got on very welltogether. Trusts me with all the keys, lends me his sleeve-waistcoat, and leaves the house entirely to me. Widow Garland next door, too, isjust the same with me, and treats me as if I was her own child. '

'She must have married young to make you that, David. '

'Yes, yes--I'm years older than she. 'Tis only my common way ofspeaking. '

Mrs. Garland would not come in to supper, and the meal proceeded withouther, Bob recommending to his father the dish he had cooked, in the mannerof a householder to a stranger just come. The miller was anxious to knowmore about his son's plans for the future, but would not for the presentinterrupt his eating, looking up from his own plate to appreciate Bob'stravelled way of putting English victuals out of sight, as he would havelooked at a mill on improved principles. 

David had only just got the table clear, and set the plates in a rowunder the bakehouse table for the cats to lick, when the door was hastilyopened, and Mrs. Garland came in, looking concerned. 

'I have been waiting to hear the plates removed to tell you howfrightened we are at something we hear at the back-door. It seems likerobbers muttering; but when I look out there's nobody there!'

'This must be seen to, ' said the miller, rising promptly. 'David, lightthe middle-sized lantern. I'll go and search the garden. '

'And I'll go too, ' said his son, taking up a cudgel. 'Lucky I've comehome just in time!'

They went out stealthily, followed by the widow and Anne, who had beenafraid to stay alone in the house under the circumstances. No soonerwere they beyond the door when, sure enough, there was the mutteringalmost close at hand, and low upon the ground, as from persons lying downin hiding. 

'Bless my heart!' said Bob, striking his head as though it were someenemy's: 'why, 'tis my luggage. I'd quite forgot it!'

'What!' asked his father. 

'My luggage. Really, if it hadn't been for Mrs. Garland it would havestayed there all night, and they, poor things! would have been starved. I've got all sorts of articles for ye. You go inside, and I'll bring 'emin. 'Tis parrots that you hear a muttering, Mrs. Garland. You needn'tbe afraid any more. '

'Parrots?' said the miller. 'Well, I'm glad 'tis no worse. But howcouldst forget so, Bob?'

The packages were taken in by David and Bob, and the first unfastenedwere three, wrapped in cloths, which being stripped off revealed threecages, with a gorgeous parrot in each. 

'This one is for you, father, to hang up outside the door, and amuse us, 'said Bob. 'He'll talk very well, but he's sleepy to-night. This otherone I brought along for any neighbour that would like to have him. Hiscolours are not so bright; but 'tis a good bird. If you would like tohave him you are welcome to him, ' he said, turning to Anne, who had beentempted forward by the birds. 'You have hardly spoken yet, Miss Anne, but I recollect you very well. How much taller you have got, to besure!'

Anne said she was much obliged, but did not know what she could do withsuch a present. Mrs. Garland accepted it for her, and the sailor wenton--'Now this other bird I hardly know what to do with; but I dare sayhe'll come in for something or other. '

'He is by far the prettiest, ' said the widow. 'I would rather have itthan the other, if you don't mind. '

'Yes, ' said Bob, with embarrassment. 'But the fact is, that bird willhardly do for ye, ma'am. He's a hard swearer, to tell the truth; and Iam afraid he's too old to be broken of it. '

'How dreadful!' said Mrs. Garland. 

'We could keep him in the mill, ' suggested the miller. 'It won't matterabout the grinder hearing him, for he can't learn to cuss worse than hedo already!'

'The grinder shall have him, then, ' said Bob. 'The one I have given you, ma'am, has no harm in him at all. You might take him to church o'Sundays as far as that goes. '

The sailor now untied a small wooden box about a foot square, perforatedwith holes. 'Here are two marmosets, ' he continued. 'You can't see themto-night; but they are beauties--the tufted sort. '

'What's a marmoset?' said the miller. 

'O, a little kind of monkey. They bite strangers rather hard, but you'llsoon get used to 'em. '

'They are wrapped up in something, I declare, ' said Mrs. Garland, peepingin through a chink. 

'Yes, that's my flannel shirt, ' said Bob apologetically. 'They sufferterribly from cold in this climate, poor things! and I had nothing betterto give them. Well, now, in this next box I've got things of differentsorts. '

The latter was a regular seaman's chest, and out of it he produced shellsof many sizes and colours, carved ivories, queer little caskets, gorgeousfeathers, and several silk handkerchiefs, which articles were spread outupon all the available tables and chairs till the house began to looklike a bazaar. 

'What a lovely shawl!' exclaimed Widow Garland, in her interestforestalling the regular exhibition by looking into the box at what wascoming. 

'O yes, ' said the mate, pulling out a couple of the most bewitchingshawls that eyes ever saw. 'One of these I am going to give to thatyoung lady I am shortly to be married to, you know, Mrs. Garland. Hasfather told you about it? Matilda Johnson, of Southampton, that's hername. '

'Yes, we know all about it, ' said the widow. 

'Well, I shall give one of these shawls to her--because, of course, Iought to. '

'Of course, ' said she. 

'But the other one I've got no use for at all; and, ' he continued, looking round, 'will you have it, Miss Anne? You refused the parrot, andyou ought not to refuse this. '

'Thank you, ' said Anne calmly, but much distressed; 'but really I don'twant it, and couldn't take it. '

'But do have it!' said Bob in hurt tones, Mrs. Garland being all thewhile on tenter-hooks lest Anne should persist in her absurd refusal. 

'Why, there's another reason why you ought to!' said he, his facelighting up with recollections. 'It never came into my head till thismoment that I used to be your beau in a humble sort of way. Faith, so Idid, and we used to meet at places sometimes, didn't we--that is, whenyou were not too proud; and once I gave you, or somebody else, a bit ofmy hair in fun. '

'It was somebody else, ' said Anne quickly. 

'Ah, perhaps it was, ' said Bob innocently. 'But it was you I used tomeet, or try to, I am sure. Well, I've never thought of that boyish timefor years till this minute! I am sure you ought to accept some one gift, dear, out of compliment to those old times!'

Anne drew back and shook her head, for she would not trust her voice. 

'Well, Mrs. Garland, then you shall have it, ' said Bob, tossing the shawlto that ready receiver. 'If you don't, upon my life I will throw it outto the first beggar I see. Now, here's a parcel of cap ribbons of thesplendidest sort I could get. Have these--do, Anne!'

'Yes, do, ' said Mrs. Garland. 

'I promised them to Matilda, ' continued Bob; 'but I am sure she won'twant 'em, as she has got some of her own: and I would as soon see themupon your head, my dear, as upon hers. '

'I think you had better keep them for your bride if you have promisedthem to her, ' said Mrs. Garland mildly. 

'It wasn't exactly a promise. I just said, "Til, there's some capribbons in my box, if you would like to have them. " But she's got enoughthings already for any bride in creation. Anne, now you shall have'em--upon my soul you shall--or I'll fling them down the mill-tail!'

Anne had meant to be perfectly firm in refusing everything, for reasonsobvious even to that poor waif, the meanest capacity; but when it came tothis point she was absolutely compelled to give in, and reluctantlyreceived the cap ribbons in her arms, blushing fitfully, and with her liptrembling in a motion which she tried to exhibit as a smile. 

'What would Tilly say if she knew!' said the miller slily. 

'Yes, indeed--and it is wrong of him!' Anne instantly cried, tearsrunning down her face as she threw the parcel of ribbons on the floor. 'You'd better bestow your gifts where you bestow your l--l--love, Mr. Loveday--that's what I say!' And Anne turned her back and went away. 

'I'll take them for her, ' said Mrs. Garland, quickly picking up theparcel. 

'Now that's a pity, ' said Bob, looking regretfully after Anne. 'I didn'tremember that she was a quick-tempered sort of girl at all. Tell her, Mrs. Garland, that I ask her pardon. But of course I didn't know she wastoo proud to accept a little present--how should I? Upon my life if itwasn't for Matilda I'd--Well, that can't be, of course. '

'What's this?' said Mrs. Garland, touching with her foot a large packagethat had been laid down by Bob unseen. 

'That's a bit of baccy for myself, ' said Robert meekly. 

The examination of presents at last ended, and the two families partedfor the night. When they were alone, Mrs. Garland said to Anne, 'What aclose girl you are! I am sure I never knew that Bob Loveday and you hadwalked together: you must have been mere children. '

'O yes--so we were, ' said Anne, now quite recovered. 'It was when wefirst came here, about a year after father died. We did not walktogether in any regular way. You know I have never thought the Lovedayshigh enough for me. It was only just--nothing at all, and I had almostforgotten it. '

It is to be hoped that somebody's sins were forgiven her that nightbefore she went to bed. 

When Bob and his father were left alone, the miller said, 'Well, Robert, about this young woman of thine--Matilda what's her name?'

'Yes, father--Matilda Johnson. I was just going to tell ye about her. '

The miller nodded, and sipped his mug. 

'Well, she is an excellent body, ' continued Bob; 'that can truly besaid--a real charmer, you know--a nice good comely young woman, a miracleof genteel breeding, you know, and all that. She can throw her hair intothe nicest curls, and she's got splendid gowns and headclothes. Inshort, you might call her a land mermaid. She'll make such a first-ratewife as there never was. '

'No doubt she will, ' said the miller; 'for I have never known theewanting in sense in a jineral way. ' He turned his cup round on its axistill the handle had travelled a complete circle. 'How long did you sayin your letter that you had known her?'

'A fortnight. '

'Not _very_ long. '

'It don't sound long, 'tis true; and 'twas really longer--'twas fifteendays and a quarter. But hang it, father, I could see in the twinkling ofan eye that the girl would do. I know a woman well enough when I seeher--I ought to, indeed, having been so much about the world. Now, forinstance, there's Widow Garland and her daughter. The girl is a nicelittle thing; but the old woman--O no!' Bob shook his head. 

'What of her?' said his father, slightly shifting in his chair. 

'Well, she's, she's--I mean, I should never have chose her, you know. She's of a nice disposition, and young for a widow with a grown-updaughter; but if all the men had been like me she would never have had ahusband. I like her in some respects; but she's a style of beauty Idon't care for. '

'O, if 'tis only looks you are thinking of, ' said the miller, muchrelieved, 'there's nothing to be said, of course. Though there's many aduchess worse-looking, if it comes to argument, as you would find, myson, ' he added, with a sense of having been mollified too soon. 

The mate's thoughts were elsewhere by this time. 

'As to my marrying Matilda, thinks I, here's one of the very genteelestsort, and I may as well do the job at once. So I chose her. She's adear girl; there's nobody like her, search where you will. '

'How many did you choose her out from?' inquired his father. 

'Well, she was the only young woman I happened to know in Southampton, that's true. But what of that? It would have been all the same if I hadknown a hundred. '

'Her father is in business near the docks, I suppose?'

'Well, no. In short, I didn't see her father. '

'Her mother?'

'Her mother? No, I didn't. I think her mother is dead; but she has gota very rich aunt living at Melchester. I didn't see her aunt, becausethere wasn't time to go; but of course we shall know her when we aremarried. '

'Yes, yes, of course, ' said the miller, trying to feel quite satisfied. 'And she will soon be here?'

'Ay, she's coming soon, ' said Bob. 'She has gone to this aunt's atMelchester to get her things packed, and suchlike, or she would have comewith me. I am going to meet the coach at the King's Arms, Casterbridge, on Sunday, at one o'clock. To show what a capital sort of wife she'llbe, I may tell you that she wanted to come by the Mercury, because 'tis alittle cheaper than the other. But I said, "For once in your life do itwell, and come by the Royal Mail, and I'll pay. " I can have the pony andtrap to fetch her, I suppose, as 'tis too far for her to walk?'

'Of course you can, Bob, or anything else. And I'll do all I can to giveyou a good wedding feast. '

XVI. THEY MAKE READY FOR THE ILLUSTRIOUS STRANGER

Preparations for Matilda's welcome, and for the event which was tofollow, at once occupied the attention of the mill. The miller and hisman had but dim notions of housewifery on any large scale; so the greatwedding cleaning was kindly supervised by Mrs. Garland, Bob being mostlyaway during the day with his brother, the trumpet-major, on variouserrands, one of which was to buy paint and varnish for the gig thatMatilda was to be fetched in, which he had determined to decorate withhis own hands. 

By the widow's direction the old familiar incrustation of shining dirt, imprinted along the back of the settle by the heads of countless jollysitters, was scrubbed and scraped away; the brown circle round the nailwhereon the miller hung his hat, stained by the brim in wet weather, waswhitened over; the tawny smudges of bygone shoulders in the passage wereremoved without regard to a certain genial and historical value whichthey had acquired. The face of the clock, coated with verdigris as thickas a diachylon plaister, was rubbed till the figures emerged into day;while, inside the case of the same chronometer, the cobwebs that formedtriangular hammocks, which the pendulum could hardly wade through, werecleared away at one swoop. 

Mrs. Garland also assisted at the invasion of worm-eaten cupboards, wherelayers of ancient smells lingered on in the stagnant air, and recalled tothe reflective nose the many good things that had been kept there. Theupper floors were scrubbed with such abundance of water that theold-established death-watches, wood-lice, and flour-worms were alldrowned, the suds trickling down into the room below in so lively andnovel a manner as to convey the romantic notion that the miller lived ina cave with dripping stalactites. 

They moved what had never been moved before--the oak coffer, containingthe miller's wardrobe--a tremendous weight, what with its locks, hinges, nails, dirt, framework, and the hard stratification of old jackets, waistcoats, and knee-breeches at the bottom, never disturbed since themiller's wife died, and half pulverized by the moths, whose flattenedskeletons lay amid the mass in thousands. 

'It fairly makes my back open and shut!' said Loveday, as, in obedienceto Mrs. Garland's direction, he lifted one corner, the grinder and Davidassisting at the others. 'All together: speak when ye be going to heave. Now!'

The pot covers and skimmers were brought to such a state that, onexamining them, the beholder was not conscious of utensils, but of hisown face in a condition of hideous elasticity. The broken clock-line wasmended, the kettles rocked, the creeper nailed up, and a new handle putto the warming-pan. The large household lantern was cleaned out, afterthree years of uninterrupted accumulation, the operation yielding aconglomerate of candle-snuffs, candle-ends, remains of matches, lamp-black, and eleven ounces and a half of good grease--invaluable asdubbing for skitty boots and ointment for cart-wheels. 

Everybody said that the mill residence had not been so thoroughly scouredfor twenty years. The miller and David looked on with a sort of awetempered by gratitude, tacitly admitting by their gaze that this wasbeyond what they had ever thought of. Mrs. Garland supervised all withdisinterested benevolence. It would never have done, she said, for hisfuture daughter-in-law to see the house in its original state. She wouldhave taken a dislike to him, and perhaps to Bob likewise. 

'Why don't ye come and live here with me, and then you would be able tosee to it at all times?' said the miller as she bustled about again. Towhich she answered that she was considering the matter, and might in goodtime. He had previously informed her that his plan was to put Bob andhis wife in the part of the house that she, Mrs. Garland, occupied, assoon as she chose to enter his, which relieved her of any fear of beingincommoded by Matilda. 

The cooking for the wedding festivities was on a proportionate scale ofthoroughness. They killed the four supernumerary chickens that had justbegun to crow, and the little curly-tailed barrow pig, in preference tothe sow; not having been put up fattening for more than five weeks it wasexcellent small meat, and therefore more delicate and likely to suit atown-bred lady's taste than the large one, which, having reached theweight of fourteen score, might have been a little gross to a culturedpalate. There were also provided a cold chine, stuffed veal, and twopigeon pies. Also thirty rings of black-pot, a dozen of white-pot, andten knots of tender and well-washed chitterlings, cooked plain in caseshe should like a change. 

As additional reserves there were sweetbreads, and five milts, sewed upat one side in the form of a chrysalis, and stuffed with thyme, sage, parsley, mint, groats, rice, milk, chopped egg, and other ingredients. They were afterwards roasted before a slow fire, and eaten hot. 

The business of chopping so many herbs for the various stuffings wasfound to be aching work for women; and David, the miller, the grinder, and the grinder's boy being fully occupied in their proper branches, andBob being very busy painting the gig and touching up the harness, Lovedaycalled in a friendly dragoon of John's regiment who was passing by, andhe, being a muscular man, willingly chopped all the afternoon for a quartof strong, judiciously administered, and all other victuals found, takingoff his jacket and gloves, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and unfasteninghis collar in an honourable and energetic way. 

All windfalls and maggot-cored codlins were excluded from the apple pies;and as there was no known dish large enough for the purpose, the puddingswere stirred up in the milking-pail, and boiled in the three-legged bell-metal crock, of great weight and antiquity, which every travelling tinkerfor the previous thirty years had tapped with his stick, coveted, made abid for, and often attempted to steal. 

In the liquor line Loveday laid in an ample barrel of Casterbridge'strong beer. ' This renowned drink--now almost as much a thing of thepast as Falstaff's favourite beverage--was not only well calculated towin the hearts of soldiers blown dry and dusty by residence in tents on ahill-top, but of any wayfarer whatever in that land. It was of the mostbeautiful colour that the eye of an artist in beer could desire; full inbody, yet brisk as a volcano; piquant, yet without a twang; luminous asan autumn sunset; free from streakiness of taste; but, finally, ratherheady. The masses worshipped it, the minor gentry loved it more thanwine, and by the most illustrious county families it was not despised. Anybody brought up for being drunk and disorderly in the streets of itsnatal borough, had only to prove that he was a stranger to the place andits liquor to be honourably dismissed by the magistrates, as oneovertaken in a fault that no man could guard against who entered the townunawares. 

In addition, Mr. Loveday also tapped a hogshead of fine cider that he hadhad mellowing in the house for several months, having bought it of anhonest down-country man, who did not colour, for any special occasionlike the present. It had been pressed from fruit judiciously chosen byan old hand--Horner and Cleeves apple for the body, a few Tom-Putts forcolour, and just a dash of Old Five-corners for sparkle--a selectionoriginally made to please the palate of a well-known temperate earl whowas a regular cider-drinker, and lived to be eighty-eight. 

On the morning of the Sunday appointed for her coming Captain Bob Lovedayset out to meet his bride. He had been all the week engaged in paintingthe gig, assisted by his brother at odd times, and it now appeared of agorgeous yellow, with blue streaks, and tassels at the corners, and redwheels outlined with a darker shade. He put in the pony at half-pasteleven, Anne looking at him from the door as he packed himself into thevehicle and drove off. There may be young women who look out at youngmen driving to meet their brides as Anne looked at Captain Bob, and yetare quite indifferent to the circumstances; but they are not often metwith. 

So much dust had been raised on the highway by traffic resulting from thepresence of the Court at the town further on, that brambles hanging fromthe fence, and giving a friendly scratch to the wanderer's face, weredingy as church cobwebs; and the grass on the margin had assumed a paper-shaving hue. Bob's father had wished him to take David, lest, from wantof recent experience at the whip, he should meet with any mishap; but, picturing to himself the awkwardness of three in such circumstances, Bobwould not hear of this; and nothing more serious happened to his drivingthan that the wheel-marks formed two serpentine lines along the roadduring the first mile or two, before he had got his hand in, and that thehorse shied at a milestone, a piece of paper, a sleeping tramp, and awheelbarrow, just to make use of the opportunity of being in bad hands. 

He entered Casterbridge between twelve and one, and, putting up at theOld Greyhound, walked on to the Bow. Here, rather dusty on the ledges ofhis clothes, he stood and waited while the people in their best summerdresses poured out of the three churches round him. When they had allgone, and a smell of cinders and gravy had spread down the ancient high-street, and the pie-dishes from adjacent bakehouses had all travelledpast, he saw the mail coach rise above the arch of Grey's Bridge, aquarter of a mile distant, surmounted by swaying knobs, which proved tobe the heads of the outside travellers. 

'That's the way for a man's bride to come to him, ' said Robert to himselfwith a feeling of poetry; and as the horn sounded and the horsesclattered up the street he walked down to the inn. The knot of hostlersand inn-servants had gathered, the horses were dragged from the vehicle, and the passengers for Casterbridge began to descend. Captain Bob eyedthem over, looked inside, looked outside again; to his disappointmentMatilda was not there, nor her boxes, nor anything that was hers. Neithercoachman nor guard had seen or heard of such a person at Melchester; andBob walked slowly away. 

Depressed by forebodings to an extent which took away nearly a third ofhis appetite, he sat down in the parlour of the Old Greyhound to a slicefrom the family joint of the landlord. This gentleman, who dined in hisshirt-sleeves, partly because it was August, and partly from a sense thatthey would not be so fit for public view further on in the week, suggested that Bob should wait till three or four that afternoon, whenthe road-waggon would arrive, as the lost lady might have preferred thatmode of conveyance; and when Bob appeared rather hurt at the suggestion, the landlord's wife assured him, as a woman who knew good life, that manygenteel persons travelled in that way during the present high price ofprovisions. Loveday, who knew little of travelling by land, readilyaccepted her assurance and resolved to wait. 

Wandering up and down the pavement, or leaning against some hot wallbetween the waggon-office and the corner of the street above, he passedthe time away. It was a still, sunny, drowsy afternoon, and scarcely asoul was visible in the length and breadth of the street. The office wasnot far from All Saints' Church, and the church-windows being open, hecould hear the afternoon service from where he lingered as distinctly asif he had been one of the congregation. Thus he was mentally conductedthrough the Psalms, through the first and second lessons, through theburst of fiddles and clarionets which announced the evening-hymn, andwell into the sermon, before any signs of the waggon could be seen uponthe London road. 

The afternoon sermons at this church being of a dry and metaphysicalnature at that date, it was by a special providence that thewaggon-office was placed near the ancient fabric, so that whenever theSunday waggon was late, which it always was in hot weather, in coldweather, in wet weather, and in weather of almost every other sort, therattle, dismounting, and swearing outside completely drowned the parson'svoice within, and sustained the flagging interest of the congregation atprecisely the right moment. No sooner did the charity children begin towrithe on their benches, and adult snores grow audible, than the waggonarrived. 

Captain Loveday felt a kind of sinking in his poetry at the possibilityof her for whom they had made such preparations being in the slow, unwieldy vehicle which crunched its way towards him; but he would notgive in to the weakness. Neither would he walk down the street to meetthe waggon, lest she should not be there. At last the broad wheels drewup against the kerb, the waggoner with his white smock-frock, and whip aslong as a fishing-line, descended from the pony on which he rodealongside, and the six broad-chested horses backed from their collars andshook themselves. In another moment something showed forth, and he knewthat Matilda was there. 

Bob felt three cheers rise within him as she stepped down; but it beingSunday he did not utter them. In dress, Miss Johnson passed hisexpectations--a green and white gown, with long, tight sleeves, a greensilk handkerchief round her neck and crossed in front, a green parasol, and green gloves. It was strange enough to see this verdant caterpillarturn out of a road-waggon, and gracefully shake herself free from thebits of straw and fluff which would usually gather on the raiment of thegrandest travellers by that vehicle. 

'But, my dear Matilda, ' said Bob, when he had kissed her three times withmuch publicity--the practical step he had determined on seeming to demandthat these things should no longer be done in a corner--'my dear Matilda, why didn't you come by the coach, having the money for't and all?'

'That's my scrimping!' said Matilda in a delightful gush. 'I know youwon't be offended when you know I did it to save against a rainy day!'

Bob, of course, was not offended, though the glory of meeting her hadbeen less; and even if vexation were possible, it would have been out ofplace to say so. Still, he would have experienced no little surprise hadhe learnt the real reason of his Matilda's change of plan. That angelhad, in short, so wildly spent Bob's and her own money in the adornmentof her person before setting out, that she found herself without asufficient margin for her fare by coach, and had scrimped from sheernecessity. 

'Well, I have got the trap out at the Greyhound, ' said Bob. 'I don'tknow whether it will hold your luggage and us too; but it looked morerespectable than the waggon on a Sunday, and if there's not room for theboxes I can walk alongside. '

'I think there will be room, ' said Miss Johnson mildly. And it was soonvery evident that she spoke the truth; for when her property wasdeposited on the pavement, it consisted of a trunk about eighteen incheslong, and nothing more. 

'O--that's all!' said Captain Loveday, surprised. 

'That's all, ' said the young woman assuringly. 'I didn't want to givetrouble, you know, and what I have besides I have left at my aunt's. '

'Yes, of course, ' he answered readily. 'And as it's no bigger, I cancarry it in my hand to the inn, and so it will be no trouble at all. '

He caught up the little box, and they went side by side to the Greyhound;and in ten minutes they were trotting up the Southern Road. 

Bob did not hurry the horse, there being many things to say and hear, forwhich the present situation was admirably suited. The sun shoneoccasionally into Matilda's face as they drove on, its rays picking outall her features to a great nicety. Her eyes would have been calledbrown, but they were really eel-colour, like many other nice brown eyes;they were well-shaped and rather bright, though they had more of a broadshine than a sparkle. She had a firm, sufficient nose, which seemed tosay of itself that it was good as noses go. She had rather a picturesqueway of wrapping her upper in her lower lip, so that the red of the lattershowed strongly. Whenever she gazed against the sun towards the distanthills, she brought into her forehead, without knowing it, three shortvertical lines--not there at other times--giving her for the momentrather a hard look. And in turning her head round to a far angle, tostare at something or other that he pointed out, the drawn flesh of herneck became a mass of lines. But Bob did not look at these things, which, of course, were of no significance; for had she not told him, whenthey compared ages, that she was a little over two-and-twenty?

As Nature was hardly invented at this early point of the century, Bob'sMatilda could not say much about the glamour of the hills, or theshimmering of the foliage, or the wealth of glory in the distant sea, asshe would doubtless have done had she lived later on; but she did herbest to be interesting, asking Bob about matters of social interest inthe neighbourhood, to which she seemed quite a stranger. 

'Is your watering-place a large city?' she inquired when they mounted thehill where the Overcombe folk had waited for the King. 

'Bless you, my dear--no! 'Twould be nothing if it wasn't for the RoyalFamily, and the lords and ladies, and the regiments of soldiers, and thefrigates, and the King's messengers, and the actors and actresses, andthe games that go on. '

At the words 'actors and actresses, ' the innocent young thing pricked upher ears. 

'Does Elliston pay as good salaries this summer as in--?'

'O, you know about it then? I thought--'

'O no, no! I have heard of Budmouth--read in the papers, you know, dearRobert, about the doings there, and the actors and actresses, you know. '

'Yes, yes, I see. Well, I have been away from England a long time, anddon't know much about the theatre in the town; but I'll take you theresome day. Would it be a treat to you?'

'O, an amazing treat!' said Miss Johnson, with an ecstasy in which aclose observer might have discovered a tinge of ghastliness. 

'You've never been into one perhaps, dear?'

'N--never, ' said Matilda flatly. 'Whatever do I see yonder--a row ofwhite things on the down?'

'Yes, that's a part of the encampment above Overcombe. Lots of soldiersare encamped about here; those are the white tops of their tents. '

He pointed to a wing of the camp that had become visible. Matilda wasmuch interested. 

'It will make it very lively for us, ' he added, 'especially as John isthere. '

She thought so too, and thus they chatted on. 

XVII. TWO FAINTING FITS AND A BEWILDERMENT

Meanwhile Miller Loveday was expecting the pair with interest; and aboutfive o'clock, after repeated outlooks, he saw two specks the size ofcaraway seeds on the far line of ridge where the sunlit white of the roadmet the blue of the sky. Then the remainder parts of Bob and his ladybecame visible, and then the whole vehicle, end on, and he heard the dryrattle of the wheels on the dusty road. Miller Loveday's plan, as far ashe had formed any, was that Robert and his wife should live with him inthe millhouse until Mrs. Garland made up her mind to join him there; inwhich event her present house would be made over to the young couple. Upon all grounds, he wished to welcome becomingly the woman of his son'schoice, and came forward promptly as they drew up at the door. 

'What a lovely place you've got here!' said Miss Johnson, when the millerhad received her from the captain. 'A real stream of water, a real mill-wheel, and real fowls, and everything!'

'Yes, 'tis real enough, ' said Loveday, looking at the river with balancedsentiments; 'and so you will say when you've lived here a bit as mis'ess, and had the trouble of claning the furniture. '

At this Miss Johnson looked modest, and continued to do so till Anne, notknowing they were there, came round the corner of the house, with herprayer-book in her hand, having just arrived from church. Bob turned andsmiled to her, at which Miss Johnson looked glum. How long she wouldhave remained in that phase is unknown, for just then her ears wereassailed by a loud bass note from the other side, causing her to jumpround. 

'O la! what dreadful thing is it?' she exclaimed, and beheld a cow ofLoveday's, of the name of Crumpler, standing close to her shoulder. Itbeing about milking-time, she had come to look up David and hasten on theoperation. 

'O, what a horrid bull!--it did frighten me so. I hope I shan't faint, 'said Matilda. 

The miller immediately used the formula which has been uttered by theproprietors of live stock ever since Noah's time. 'She won't hurt ye. Hoosh, Crumpler! She's as timid as a mouse, ma'am. '

But as Crumpler persisted in making another terrific inquiry for David, Matilda could not help closing her eyes and saying, 'O, I shall be goredto death!' her head falling back upon Bob's shoulder, which--seeing theurgent circumstances, and knowing her delicate nature--he hadprovidentially placed in a position to catch her. Anne Garland, who hadbeen standing at the corner of the house, not knowing whether to go backor come on, at this felt her womanly sympathies aroused. She ran anddipped her handkerchief into the splashing mill-tail, and with it dampedMatilda's face. But as her eyes still remained closed, Bob, to increasethe effect, took the handkerchief from Anne and wrung it out on thebridge of Matilda's nose, whence it ran over the rest of her face in astream. 

'O, Captain Loveday!' said Anne, 'the water is running over her greensilk handkerchief, and into her pretty reticule!'

'There--if I didn't think so!' exclaimed Matilda, opening her eyes, starting up, and promptly pulling out her own handkerchief, with whichshe wiped away the drops, and an unimportant trifle of her complexion, assisted by Anne, who, in spite of her background of antagonisticemotions, could not help being interested. 

'That's right!' said the miller, his spirits reviving with the revival ofMatilda. 'The lady is not used to country life; are you, ma'am?'

'I am not, ' replied the sufferer. 'All is so strange about here!'

Suddenly there spread into the firmament, from the direction of thedown:--

 'Ra, ta, ta! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Ra, ta, ta!'

'O dear, dear! more hideous country sounds, I suppose?' she inquired, with another start. 

'O no, ' said the miller cheerfully. ''Tis only my son John's trumpeterchaps at the camp of dragoons just above us, a-blowing Mess, or Feed, orPicket, or some other of their vagaries. John will be much pleased totell you the meaning on't when he comes down. He's trumpet-major, as youmay know, ma'am. '

'O yes; you mean Captain Loveday's brother. Dear Bob has mentioned him. '

'If you come round to Widow Garland's side of the house, you can see thecamp, ' said the miller. 

'Don't force her; she's tired with her long journey, ' said Mrs. Garlandhumanely, the widow having come out in the general wish to see CaptainBob's choice. Indeed, they all behaved towards her as if she were atender exotic, which their crude country manners might seriously injure. 

She went into the house, accompanied by Mrs. Garland and her daughter;though before leaving Bob she managed to whisper in his ear, 'Don't tellthem I came by waggon, will you, dear?'--a request which was quiteneedless, for Bob had long ago determined to keep that a dead secret; notbecause it was an uncommon mode of travel, but simply that it was hardlythe usual conveyance for a gorgeous lady to her bridal. 

As the men had a feeling that they would be superfluous indoors just atpresent, the miller assisted David in taking the horse round to thestables, Bob following, and leaving Matilda to the women. Indoors, MissJohnson admired everything: the new parrots and marmosets, the blackbeams of the ceiling, the double-corner cupboard with the glass doors, through which gleamed the remainders of sundry china sets acquired byBob's mother in her housekeeping--two-handled sugar-basins, no-handledtea-cups, a tea-pot like a pagoda, and a cream-jug in the form of aspotted cow. This sociability in their visitor was returned by Mrs. Garland and Anne; and Miss Johnson's pleasing habit of partly dyingwhenever she heard any unusual bark or bellow added to her piquancy intheir eyes. But conversation, as such, was naturally at first of anervous, tentative kind, in which, as in the works of some minor poets, the sense was considerably led by the sound. 

'You get the sea-breezes here, no doubt?'

'O yes, dear; when the wind is that way. '

'Do you like windy weather?'

'Yes; though not now, for it blows down the young apples. '

'Apples are plentiful, it seems. You country-folk call St. Swithin'stheir christening day, if it rains?'

'Yes, dear. Ah me! I have not been to a christening for these manyyears; the baby's name was George, I remember--after the King. '

'I hear that King George is still staying at the town here. I _hope_he'll stay till I have seen him!'

'He'll wait till the corn turns yellow; he always does. '

'How _very_ fashionable yellow is getting for gloves just now!'

'Yes. Some persons wear them to the elbow, I hear. '

'Do they? I was not aware of that. I struck my elbow last week so hardagainst the door of my aunt's mansion that I feel the ache now. '

Before they were quite overwhelmed by the interest of this discourse, themiller and Bob came in. In truth, Mrs. Garland found the office in whichhe had placed her--that of introducing a strange woman to a house whichwas not the widow's own--a rather awkward one, and yet almost anecessity. There was no woman belonging to the house except thatwondrous compendium of usefulness, the intermittent maid-servant, whomLoveday had, for appearances, borrowed from Mrs. Garland, and Mrs. Garland was in the habit of borrowing from the girl's mother. And as forthe demi-woman David, he had been informed as peremptorily as Pharaoh'sbaker that the office of housemaid and bedmaker was taken from him, andwould be given to this girl till the wedding was over, and Bob's wifetook the management into her own hands. 

They all sat down to high tea, Anne and her mother included, and thecaptain sitting next to Miss Johnson. Anne had put a brave face upon thematter--outwardly, at least--and seemed in a fair way of subduing anylingering sentiment which Bob's return had revived. During the evening, and while they still sat over the meal, John came down on a hurriedvisit, as he had promised, ostensibly on purpose to be introduced to hisintended sister-in-law, but much more to get a word and a smile from hisbeloved Anne. Before they saw him, they heard the trumpet-major's smartstep coming round the corner of the house, and in a moment his formdarkened the door. As it was Sunday, he appeared in his full-dress lacedcoat, white waistcoat and breeches, and towering plume, the latter ofwhich he instantly lowered, as much from necessity as good manners, thebeam in the mill-house ceiling having a tendency to smash and ruin allsuch head-gear without warning. 

'John, we've been hoping you would come down, ' said the miller, 'and sowe have kept the tay about on purpose. Draw up, and speak to Mrs. Matilda Johnson. . . . Ma'am, this is Robert's brother. '

'Your humble servant, ma'am, ' said the trumpet-major gallantly. 

As it was getting dusk in the low, small-paned room, he instinctivelymoved towards Miss Johnson as he spoke, who sat with her back to thewindow. He had no sooner noticed her features than his helmet nearlyfell from his hand; his face became suddenly fixed, and his naturalcomplexion took itself off, leaving a greenish yellow in its stead. Theyoung person, on her part, had no sooner looked closely at him than shesaid weakly, 'Robert's brother!' and changed colour yet more rapidly thanthe soldier had done. The faintness, previously half counterfeit, seizedon her now in real earnest. 

'I don't feel well, ' she said, suddenly rising by an effort. 'This warmday has quite upset me!'

There was a regular collapse of the tea-party, like that of the Hamletplay scene. Bob seized his sweetheart and carried her upstairs, themiller exclaiming, 'Ah, she's terribly worn by the journey! I thoughtshe was when I saw her nearly go off at the blare of the cow. No womanwould have been frightened at that if she'd been up to her naturalstrength. '

'That, and being so very shy of men, too, must have made John's handsomeregimentals quite overpowering to her, poor thing, ' added Mrs. Garland, following the catastrophic young lady upstairs, whose indisposition wasthis time beyond question. And yet, by some perversity of the heart, shewas as eager now to make light of her faintness as she had been to makemuch of it two or three hours ago. 

The miller and John stood like straight sticks in the room the others hadquitted, John's face being hastily turned towards a caricature ofBuonaparte on the wall that he had not seen more than a hundred and fiftytimes before. 

'Come, sit down and have a dish of tea, anyhow, ' said his father at last. 'She'll soon be right again, no doubt. '

'Thanks; I don't want any tea, ' said John quickly. And, indeed, he didnot, for he was in one gigantic ache from head to foot. 

The light had been too dim for anybody to notice his amazement; and notknowing where to vent it, the trumpet-major said he was going out for aminute. He hastened to the bakehouse; but David being there, he went tothe pantry; but the maid being there, he went to the cart-shed; but acouple of tramps being there, he went behind a row of French beans in thegarden, where he let off an ejaculation the most pious that he haduttered that Sabbath day: 'Heaven! what's to be done!'

And then he walked wildly about the paths of the dusky garden, where thetrickling of the brooks seemed loud by comparison with the stillnessaround; treading recklessly on the cracking snails that had come forth tofeed, and entangling his spurs in the long grass till the rowels werechoked with its blades. Presently he heard another person approaching, and his brother's shape appeared between the stubbard tree and the hedge. 

'O, is it you?' said the mate. 

'Yes. I am--taking a little air. '

'She is getting round nicely again; and as I am not wanted indoors justnow, I am going into the village to call upon a friend or two I have notbeen able to speak to as yet. '

John took his brother Bob's hand. Bob rather wondered why. 

'All right, old boy, ' he said. 'Going into the village? You'll be backagain, I suppose, before it gets very late?'

'O yes, ' said Captain Bob cheerfully, and passed out of the garden. 

John allowed his eyes to follow his brother till his shape could not beseen, and then he turned and again walked up and down. 

XVIII. THE NIGHT AFTER THE ARRIVAL

John continued his sad and heavy pace till walking seemed too old andworn-out a way of showing sorrow so new, and he leant himself against thefork of an apple-tree like a log. There the trumpet-major remained for aconsiderable time, his face turned towards the house, whose ancient, many-chimneyed outline rose against the darkened sky, and just shut out fromhis view the camp above. But faint noises coming thence from horsesrestless at the pickets, and from visitors taking their leave, recalledits existence, and reminded him that, in consequence of Matilda'sarrival, he had obtained leave for the night--a fact which, owing to thestartling emotions that followed his entry, he had not yet mentioned tohis friends. 

While abstractedly considering how he could best use that privilege underthe new circumstances which had arisen, he heard Farmer Derriman drive upto the front door and hold a conversation with his father. The old manhad at last apparently brought the tin box of private papers that hewished the miller to take charge of during Derriman's absence; and itbeing a calm night, John could hear, though he little heeded, UncleBenjy's reiterated supplications to Loveday to keep it safe from fire andthieves. Then Uncle Benjy left, and John's father went upstairs todeposit the box in a place of security, the whole proceeding reachingJohn's preoccupied comprehension merely as voices during sleep. 

The next thing was the appearance of a light in the bedroom which hadbeen assigned to Matilda Johnson. This effectually aroused the trumpet-major, and with a stealthiness unusual in him he went indoors. No lightwas in the lower rooms, his father, Mrs. Garland, and Anne having goneout on the bridge to look at the new moon. John went upstairs on tip-toe, and along the uneven passage till he came to her door. It wasstanding ajar, a band of candlelight shining across the passage and upthe opposite wall. As soon as he entered the radiance he saw her. Shewas standing before the looking-glass, apparently lost in thought, herfingers being clasped behind her head in abstraction, and the lightfalling full upon her face. 

'I must speak to you, ' said the trumpet-major. 

She started, turned and grew paler than before; and then, as if moved bya sudden impulse, she swung the door wide open, and, coming out, saidquite collectedly and with apparent pleasantness, 'O yes; you are myBob's brother! I didn't, for a moment, recognize you. '

'But you do now?'

'As Bob's brother. '

'You have not seen me before?'

'I have not, ' she answered, with a face as impassible as Talleyrand's. 

'Good God!'

'I have not!' she repeated. 

'Nor any of the --th Dragoons? Captain Jolly, for instance?'

'No. '

'You mistake. I'll remind you of particulars, ' he said drily. And hedid remind her at some length. 

'Never!' she said desperately. 

But she had miscalculated her staying powers, and her adversary'scharacter. Five minutes after that she was in tears, and theconversation had resolved itself into words, which, on the soldier'spart, were of the nature of commands, tempered by pity, and were a mereseries of entreaties on hers. 

The whole scene did not last ten minutes. When it was over, the trumpet-major walked from the doorway where they had been standing, and brushedmoisture from his eyes. Reaching a dark lumber-room, he stood stillthere to calm himself, and then descended by a Flemish-ladder to thebakehouse, instead of by the front stairs. He found that the others, including Bob, had gathered in the parlour during his absence and lightedthe candles. 

Miss Johnson, having sent down some time before John re-entered the houseto say that she would prefer to keep her room that evening, was notexpected to join them, and on this account Bob showed less than hiscustomary liveliness. The miller wishing to keep up his son's spirits, expressed his regret that, it being Sunday night, they could have nosongs to make the evening cheerful; when Mrs. Garland proposed that theyshould sing psalms which, by choosing lively tunes and not thinking ofthe words, would be almost as good as ballads. 

This they did, the trumpet-major appearing to join in with the rest; butas a matter of fact no sound came from his moving lips. His mind was insuch a state that he derived no pleasure even from Anne Garland'spresence, though he held a corner of the same book with her, and wastreated in a winsome way which it was not her usual practice to indulgein. She saw that his mind was clouded, and, far from guessing the reasonwhy, was doing her best to clear it. 

At length the Garlands found that it was the hour for them to leave, andJohn Loveday at the same time wished his father and Bob good-night, andwent as far as Mrs. Garland's door with her. 

He had said not a word to show that he was free to remain out of camp, for the reason that there was painful work to be done, which it would bebest to do in secret and alone. He lingered near the house till itsreflected window-lights ceased to glimmer upon the mill-pond, and allwithin the dwelling was dark and still. Then he entered the garden andwaited there till the back door opened, and a woman's figure timorouslycame forward. John Loveday at once went up to her, and they began totalk in low yet dissentient tones. 

They had conversed about ten minutes, and were parting as if they hadcome to some painful arrangement, Miss Johnson sobbing bitterly, when ahead stealthily arose above the dense hedgerow, and in a moment a shoutburst from its owner. 

'Thieves! thieves!--my tin box!--thieves! thieves!'

Matilda vanished into the house, and John Loveday hastened to the hedge. 'For heaven's sake, hold your tongue, Mr. Derriman!' he exclaimed. 

'My tin box!' said Uncle Benjy. 'O, only the trumpet-major!'

'Your box is safe enough, I assure you. It was only'--here the trumpet-major gave vent to an artificial laugh--'only a sly bit of courting, youknow. '

'Ha, ha, I see!' said the relieved old squireen. 'Courting Miss Anne!Then you've ousted my nephew, trumpet-major! Well, so much the better. As for myself, the truth on't is that I haven't been able to go to bedeasy, for thinking that possibly your father might not take care of whatI put under his charge; and at last I thought I would just step over andsee if all was safe here before I turned in. And when I saw your twoshapes my poor nerves magnified ye to housebreakers, and Boneys, and Idon't know what all. '

'You have alarmed the house, ' said the trumpet-major, hearing theclicking of flint and steel in his father's bedroom, followed in a momentby the rise of a light in the window of the same apartment. 'You havegot me into difficulty, ' he added gloomily, as his father opened thecasement. 

'I am sorry for that, ' said Uncle Benjy. 'But step back; I'll put it allright again. '

'What, for heaven's sake, is the matter?' said the miller, his tassellednightcap appearing in the opening. 

'Nothing, nothing!' said the farmer. 'I was uneasy about my few bondsand documents, and I walked this way, miller, before going to bed, as Istart from home to-morrow morning. When I came down by yourgarden-hedge, I thought I saw thieves, but it turned out to be--to be--'

Here a lump of earth from the trumpet-major's hand struck Uncle Benjy inthe back as a reminder. 

'To be--the bough of a cherry-tree a-waving in the wind. Good-night. '

'No thieves are like to try my house, ' said Miller Loveday. 'Now don'tyou come alarming us like this again, farmer, or you shall keep your boxyourself, begging your pardon for saying so. Good-night t' ye!'

'Miller, will ye just look, since I am here--just look and see if the boxis all right? there's a good man! I am old, you know, and my poorremains are not what my original self was. Look and see if it is whereyou put it, there's a good, kind man. '

'Very well, ' said the miller good-humouredly. 

'Neighbour Loveday! on second thoughts I will take my box home again, after all, if you don't mind. You won't deem it ill of me? I have nosuspicion, of course; but now I think on't there's rivalry between mynephew and your son; and if Festus should take it into his head to setyour house on fire in his enmity, 'twould be bad for my deeds anddocuments. No offence, miller, but I'll take the box, if you don'tmind. '

'Faith! I don't mind, ' said Loveday. 'But your nephew had better thinktwice before he lets his enmity take that colour. ' Receding from thewindow, he took the candle to a back part of the room and soon reappearedwith the tin box. 

'I won't trouble ye to dress, ' said Derriman considerately; 'let en downby anything you have at hand. '

The box was lowered by a cord, and the old man clasped it in his arms. 'Thank ye!' he said with heartfelt gratitude. 'Good-night!'

The miller replied and closed the window, and the light went out. 

'There, now I hope you are satisfied, sir?' said the trumpet-major. 

'Quite, quite!' said Derriman; and, leaning on his walking-stick, hepursued his lonely way. 

That night Anne lay awake in her bed, musing on the traits of the newfriend who had come to her neighbour's house. She would not be critical, it was ungenerous and wrong; but she could not help thinking of whatinterested her. And were there, she silently asked, in Miss Johnson'smind and person such rare qualities as placed that lady altogether beyondcomparison with herself? O yes, there must be; for had not Captain Bobsingled out Matilda from among all other women, herself included? Ofcourse, with his world-wide experience, he knew best. 

When the moon had set, and only the summer stars threw their light intothe great damp garden, she fancied that she heard voices in thatdirection. Perhaps they were the voices of Bob and Matilda taking alover's walk before retiring. If so, how sleepy they would be next day, and how absurd it was of Matilda to pretend she was tired! Ruminating inthis way, and saying to herself that she hoped they would be happy, Annefell asleep. 

XIX. MISS JOHNSON'S BEHAVIOUR CAUSES NO LITTLE SURPRISE

Partly from the excitement of having his Matilda under the paternal roof, Bob rose next morning as early as his father and the grinder, and, whenthe big wheel began to patter and the little ones to mumble in response, went to sun himself outside the mill-front, among the fowls of brown andspeckled kinds which haunted that spot, and the ducks that came up fromthe mill-tail. 

Standing on the worn-out mill-stone inlaid in the gravel, he talked withhis father on various improvements of the premises, and on the proposedarrangements for his permanent residence there, with an enjoyment thatwas half based upon this prospect of the future, and half on thepenetrating warmth of the sun to his back and shoulders. Then thedifferent troops of horses began their morning scramble down to the mill-pond, and, after making it very muddy round the edge, ascended the slopeagain. The bustle of the camp grew more and more audible, and presentlyDavid came to say that breakfast was ready. 

'Is Miss Johnson downstairs?' said the miller; and Bob listened for theanswer, looking at a blue sentinel aloft on the down. 

'Not yet, maister, ' said the excellent David. 

'We'll wait till she's down, ' said Loveday. 'When she is, let us know. '

David went indoors again, and Loveday and Bob continued their morningsurvey by ascending into the mysterious quivering recesses of the mill, and holding a discussion over a second pair of burr-stones, which had tobe re-dressed before they could be used again. This and similar thingsoccupied nearly twenty minutes, and, looking from the window, the elderof the two was reminded of the time of day by seeing Mrs. Garland's table-cloth fluttering from her back door over the heads of a flock of pigeonsthat had alighted for the crumbs. 

'I suppose David can't find us, ' he said, with a sense of hunger that wasnot altogether strange to Bob. He put out his head and shouted. 

'The lady is not down yet, ' said his man in reply. 

'No hurry, no hurry, ' said the miller, with cheerful emptiness. 'Bob, topass the time we'll look into the garden. '

'She'll get up sooner than this, you know, when she's signed articles andgot a berth here, ' Bob observed apologetically. 

'Yes, yes, ' said Loveday; and they descended into the garden. 

Here they turned over sundry flat stones and killed the slugs shelteredbeneath them from the coming heat of the day, talking of slugs in alltheir branches--of the brown and the black, of the tough and the tender, of the reason why there were so many in the garden that year, of thecoming time when the grass-walks harbouring them were to be taken up andgravel laid, and of the relatively exterminatory merits of a pair ofscissors and the heel of the shoe. At last the miller said, 'Well, really, Bob, I'm hungry; we must begin without her. '

They were about to go in, when David appeared with haste in his motions, his eyes wider vertically than crosswise, and his cheeks nearly all gone. 

'Maister, I've been to call her; and as 'a didn't speak I rapped, and as'a didn't answer I kicked, and not being latched the door opened, and--she's gone!'

Bob went off like a swallow towards the house, and the miller followedlike the rather heavy man that he was. That Miss Matilda was not in herroom, or a scrap of anything belonging to her, was soon apparent. Theysearched every place in which she could possibly hide or squeeze herself, every place in which she could not, but found nothing at all. 

Captain Bob was quite wild with astonishment and grief. When he wasquite sure that she was nowhere in his father's house, he ran into Mrs. Garland's, and telling them the story so hastily that they hardlyunderstood the particulars, he went on towards Comfort's house, intendingto raise the alarm there, and also at Mitchell's, Beach's, Cripplestraw's, the parson's, the clerk's, the camp of dragoons, ofhussars, and so on through the whole county. But he paused, and thoughtit would be hardly expedient to publish his discomfiture in such a way. If Matilda had left the house for any freakish reason he would not careto look for her, and if her deed had a tragic intent she would keep alooffrom camp and village. 

In his trouble he thought of Anne. She was a nice girl and could betrusted. To her he went, and found her in a state of excitement andanxiety which equalled his own. 

''Tis so lonely to cruise for her all by myself!' said Bobdisconsolately, his forehead all in wrinkles, 'and I've thought you wouldcome with me and cheer the way?'

'Where shall we search?' said Anne. 

'O, in the holes of rivers, you know, and down wells, and in quarries, and over cliffs, and like that. Your eyes might catch the loom of anybit of a shawl or bonnet that I should overlook, and it would do me areal service. Please do come!'

So Anne took pity upon him, and put on her hat and went, the miller andDavid having gone off in another direction. They examined the ditches offields, Bob going round by one fence and Anne by the other, till they metat the opposite side. Then they peeped under culverts, into outhouses, and down old wells and quarries, till the theory of a tragical end hadnearly spent its force in Bob's mind, and he began to think that Matildahad simply run away. However, they still walked on, though by this timethe sun was hot and Anne would gladly have sat down. 

'Now, didn't you think highly of her, Miss Garland?' he inquired, as thesearch began to languish. 

'O yes, ' said Anne, 'very highly. '

'She was really beautiful; no nonsense about her looks, was there?'

'None. Her beauty was thoroughly ripe--not too young. We should allhave got to love her. What can have possessed her to go away?'

'I don't know, and, upon my life, I shall soon be drove to say I don'tcare!' replied the mate despairingly. 'Let me pilot ye down over thosestones, ' he added, as Anne began to descend a rugged quarry. He steppedforward, leapt down, and turned to her. 

She gave him her hand and sprang down. Before he relinquished his hold, Captain Bob raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. 

'O, Captain Loveday!' cried Anne, snatching away her hand in genuinedismay, while a tear rose unexpectedly to each eye. 'I never heard ofsuch a thing! I won't go an inch further with you, sir; it is toobarefaced!' And she turned and ran off. 

'Upon my life I didn't mean it!' said the repentant captain, hasteningafter. 'I do love her best--indeed I do--and I don't love you at all! Iam not so fickle as that! I merely just for the moment admired you as asweet little craft, and that's how I came to do it. You know, MissGarland, ' he continued earnestly, and still running after, ''tis likethis: when you come ashore after having been shut up in a ship foreighteen months, women-folks seem so new and nice that you can't helpliking them, one and all in a body; and so your heart is apt to getscattered and to yaw a bit; but of course I think of poor Matilda most, and shall always stick to her. ' He heaved a sigh of tremendousmagnitude, to show beyond the possibility of doubt that his heart wasstill in the place that honour required. 

'I am glad to hear that--of course I am very glad!' said she, with quickpetulance, keeping her face turned from him. 'And I hope we shall findher, and that the wedding will not be put off, and that you'll both behappy. But I won't look for her any more! No; I don't care to look forher--and my head aches. I am going home!'

'And so am I, ' said Robert promptly. 

'No, no; go on looking for her, of course--all the afternoon, and allnight. I am sure you will, if you love her. '

'O yes; I mean to. Still, I ought to convoy you home first?'

'No, you ought not; and I shall not accept your company. Good-morning, sir!' And she went off over one of the stone stiles with which the spotabounded, leaving the friendly sailor standing in the field. 

He sighed again, and, observing the camp not far off, thought he would goto his brother John and ask him his opinion on the sorrowful case. Onreaching the tents he found that John was not at liberty just at thattime, being engaged in practising the trumpeters; and leaving word thathe wished the trumpet-major to come down to the mill as soon as possible, Bob went back again. 

''Tis no good looking for her, ' he said gloomily. 'She liked me wellenough, but when she came here and saw the house, and the place, and theold horse, and the plain furniture, she was disappointed to find us allso homely, and felt she didn't care to marry into such a family!'

His father and David had returned with no news. 

'Yes, 'tis as I've been thinking, father, ' Bob said. 'We weren't goodenough for her, and she went away in scorn!'

'Well, that can't be helped, ' said the miller. 'What we be, we be, andhave been for generations. To my mind she seemed glad enough to get holdof us!'

'Yes, yes--for the moment--because of the flowers, and birds, and what'spretty in the place, ' said Bob tragically. 'But you don't know, father--how should you know, who have hardly been out of Overcombe inyour life?--you don't know what delicate feelings are in a real refinedwoman's mind. Any little vulgar action unreaves their nerves like amarline-spike. Now I wonder if you did anything to disgust her?'

'Faith! not that I know of, ' said Loveday, reflecting. 'I didn't say asingle thing that I should naturally have said, on purpose to give nooffence. '

'You was always very homely, you know, father. '

'Yes; so I was, ' said the miller meekly. 

'I wonder what it could have been, ' Bob continued, wandering aboutrestlessly. 'You didn't go drinking out of the big mug with your mouthfull, or wipe your lips with your sleeve?'

'That I'll swear I didn't!' said the miller firmly. 'Thinks I, there'sno knowing what I may do to shock her, so I'll take my solid victuals inthe bakehouse, and only a crumb and a drop in her company for manners. '

'You could do no more than that, certainly, ' said Bob gently. 

'If my manners be good enough for well-brought-up people like theGarlands, they be good enough for her, ' continued the miller, with asense of injustice. 

'That's true. Then it must have been David. David, come here! How didyou behave before that lady? Now, mind you speak the truth!'

'Yes, Mr. Captain Robert, ' said David earnestly. 'I assure ye she wasserved like a royal queen. The best silver spoons wez put down, and yerpoor grandfer's silver tanket, as you seed, and the feather cushion forher to sit on--'

'Now I've got it!' said Bob decisively, bringing down his hand upon thewindow-sill. 'Her bed was hard!--and there's nothing shocks a true ladylike that. The bed in that room always was as hard as the Rock ofGibraltar!'

'No, Captain Bob! The beds were changed--wasn't they maister? We putthe goose bed in her room, and the flock one, that used to be there, inyours. '

'Yes, we did, ' corroborated the miller. 'David and I changed 'em withour own hands, because they were too heavy for the women to move. '

'Sure I didn't know I had the flock bed, ' murmured Bob. 'I slept on, little thinking what I was going to wake to. Well, well, she's gone; andsearch as I will I shall never find another like her! She was too goodfor me. She must have carried her box with her own hands, poor girl. Asfar as that goes, I could overtake her even now, I dare say; but I won'tentreat her against her will--not I. '

Miller Loveday and David, feeling themselves to be rather a desecrationin the presence of Bob's sacred emotions, managed to edge off by degrees, the former burying himself in the most floury recesses of the mill, hisinvariable resource when perturbed, the rumbling having a soothing effectupon the nerves of those properly trained to its music. 

Bob was so impatient that, after going up to her room to assure himselfonce more that she had not undressed, but had only lain down on theoutside of the bed, he went out of the house to meet John, and waited onthe sunny slope of the down till his brother appeared. John looked sobrave and shapely and warlike that, even in Bob's present distress, hecould not but feel an honest and affectionate pride at owning such arelative. Yet he fancied that John did not come along with the sameswinging step he had shown yesterday; and when the trumpet-major gotnearer he looked anxiously at the mate and waited for him to speak first. 

'You know our great trouble, John?' said Robert, gazing stoically intohis brother's eyes. 

'Come and sit down, and tell me all about it, ' answered thetrumpet-major, showing no surprise. 

They went towards a slight ravine, where it was easier to sit down thanon the flat ground, and here John reclined among the grasshoppers, pointing to his brother to do the same. 

'But do you know what it is?' said Robert. 'Has anybody told ye?'

'I do know, ' said John. 'She's gone; and I am thankful!'

'What!' said Bob, rising to his knees in amazement. 

'I'm at the bottom of it, ' said the trumpet-major slowly. 

'You, John?'

'Yes; and if you will listen I'll tell you all. Do you remember whathappened when I came into the room last night? Why, she turned colourand nearly fainted away. That was because she knew me. '

Bob stared at his brother with a face of pain and distrust. 

'For once, Bob, I must say something that will hurt thee a good deal, 'continued John. 'She was not a woman who could possibly be your wife--andso she's gone. '

'You sent her off?'

'Well, I did. '

'John!--Tell me right through--tell me!'

'Perhaps I had better, ' said the trumpet-major, his blue eyes resting onthe far distant sea, that seemed to rise like a wall as high as the hillthey sat upon. 

And then he told a tale of Miss Johnson and the --th Dragoons which wrunghis heart as much in the telling as it did Bob's to hear, and whichshowed that John had been temporarily cruel to be ultimately kind. EvenBob, excited as he was, could discern from John's manner of speaking whata terrible undertaking that night's business had been for him. Tojustify the course he had adopted the dictates of duty must have beenimperative; but the trumpet-major, with a becoming reticence which hisbrother at the time was naturally unable to appreciate, scarcely dweltdistinctly enough upon the compelling cause of his conduct. It would, indeed, have been hard for any man, much less so modest a one as John, todo himself justice in that remarkable relation, when the listener was thelady's lover; and it is no wonder that Robert rose to his feet and put agreater distance between himself and John. 

'And what time was it?' he asked in a hard, suppressed voice. 

'It was just before one o'clock. '

'How could you help her to go away?'

'I had a pass. I carried her box to the coach-office. She was to followat dawn. '

'But she had no money. '

'Yes, she had; I took particular care of that. ' John did not add, as hemight have done, that he had given her, in his pity, all the money hepossessed, and at present had only eighteen-pence in the world. 'Well, it is over, Bob; so sit ye down, and talk with me of old times, ' headded. 

'Ah, Jack, it is well enough for you to speak like that, ' said thedisquieted sailor; 'but I can't help feeling that it is a cruel thing youhave done. After all, she would have been snug enough for me. Would Ihad never found out this about her! John, why did you interfere? Youhad no right to overhaul my affairs like this. Why didn't you tell mefairly all you knew, and let me do as I chose? You have turned her outof the house, and it's a shame! If she had only come to me! Why didn'tshe?'

'Because she knew it was best to do otherwise. '

'Well, I shall go after her, ' said Bob firmly. 

'You can do as you like, ' said John; 'but I would advise you strongly toleave matters where they are. '

'I won't leave matters where they are, ' said Bob impetuously. 'You havemade me miserable, and all for nothing. I tell you she was good enoughfor me; and as long as I knew nothing about what you say of her history, what difference would it have made to me? Never was there a young womanwho was better company; and she loved a merry song as I do myself. Yes, I'll follow her. '

'O, Bob, ' said John; 'I hardly expected this!'

'That's because you didn't know your man. Can I ask you to do me onekindness? I don't suppose I can. Can I ask you not to say a wordagainst her to any of them at home?'

'Certainly. The very reason why I got her to go off silently, as she hasdone, was because nothing should be said against her here, and no scandalshould be heard of. '

'That may be; but I'm off after her. Marry that girl I will. '

'You'll be sorry. '

'That we shall see, ' replied Robert with determination; and he went awayrapidly towards the mill. The trumpet-major had no heart to follow--nogood could possibly come of further opposition; and there on the down heremained like a graven image till Bob had vanished from his sight intothe mill. 

Bob entered his father's only to leave word that he was going on arenewed search for Matilda, and to pack up a few necessaries for hisjourney. Ten minutes later he came out again with a bundle in his hand, and John saw him go diagonally across the lower fields towards the high-road. 

'And this is all the good I have done!' said John, musingly readjustinghis stock where it cut his neck, and descending towards the mill. 

XX. HOW THEY LESSENED THE EFFECT OF THE CALAMITY

Meanwhile Anne Garland had gone home, and, being weary with her ramble insearch of Matilda, sat silent in a corner of the room. Her mother waspassing the time in giving utterance to every conceivable surmise on thecause of Miss Johnson's disappearance that the human mind could frame, towhich Anne returned monosyllabic answers, the result, not ofindifference, but of intense preoccupation. Presently Loveday, thefather, came to the door; her mother vanished with him, and they remainedcloseted together a long time. Anne went into the garden and seatedherself beneath the branching tree whose boughs had sheltered her duringso many hours of her residence here. Her attention was fixed more uponthe miller's wing of the irregular building before her than upon thatoccupied by her mother, for she could not help expecting every moment tosee some one run out with a wild face and announce some awful clearing upof the mystery. 

Every sound set her on the alert, and hearing the tread of a horse in thelane she looked round eagerly. Gazing at her over the hedge was FestusDerriman, mounted on such an incredibly tall animal that he could see toher very feet over the thick and broad thorn fence. She no soonerrecognized him than she withdrew her glance; but as his eyes were fixedsteadily upon her this was a futile manoeuvre. 

'I saw you look round!' he exclaimed crossly. 'What have I done to makeyou behave like that? Come, Miss Garland, be fair. 'Tis no use to turnyour back upon me. ' As she did not turn he went on--'Well, now, this isenough to provoke a saint. Now I tell you what, Miss Garland; here I'llstay till you do turn round, if 'tis all the afternoon. You know mytemper--what I say I mean. ' He seated himself firmly in the saddle, plucked some leaves from the hedge, and began humming a song, to show howabsolutely indifferent he was to the flight of time. 

'What have you come for, that you are so anxious to see me?' inquiredAnne, when at last he had wearied her patience, rising and facing himwith the added independence which came from a sense of the hedge betweenthem. 

'There, I knew you would turn round!' he said, his hot angry face invadedby a smile in which his teeth showed like white hemmed in by red atchess. 

'What do you want, Mr. Derriman?' said she. 

'"What do you want, Mr. Derriman?"--now listen to that! Is that myencouragement?'

Anne bowed superciliously, and moved away. 

'I have just heard news that explains all that, ' said the giant, eyeingher movements with somnolent irascibility. 'My uncle has been lettingthings out. He was here late last night, and he saw you. '

'Indeed he didn't, ' said Anne. 

'O, now! He saw Trumpet-major Loveday courting somebody like you in thatgarden walk; and when he came you ran indoors. '

'It is not true, and I wish to hear no more. '

'Upon my life, he said so! How can you do it, Miss Garland, when I, whohave enough money to buy up all the Lovedays, would gladly come to termswith ye? What a simpleton you must be, to pass me over for him! There, now you are angry because I said simpleton!--I didn't mean simpleton, Imeant misguided--misguided rosebud! That's it--run off, ' he continued ina raised voice, as Anne made towards the garden door. 'But I'll have youyet. Much reason you have to be too proud to stay with me. But it won'tlast long; I shall marry you, madam, if I choose, as you'll see. '

When he was quite gone, and Anne had calmed down from the not altogetherunrelished fear and excitement that he always caused her, she returned toher seat under the tree, and began to wonder what Festus Derriman's storymeant, which, from the earnestness of his tone, did not seem like a pureinvention. It suddenly flashed upon her mind that she herself had heardvoices in the garden, and that the persons seen by Farmer Derriman, ofwhose visit and reclamation of his box the miller had told her, mighthave been Matilda and John Loveday. She further recalled the strangeagitation of Miss Johnson on the preceding evening, and that it occurredjust at the entry of the dragoon, till by degrees suspicion amounted toconviction that he knew more than any one else supposed of that lady'sdisappearance. 

It was just at this time that the trumpet-major descended to the millafter his talk with his brother on the down. As fate would have it, instead of entering the house he turned aside to the garden and walkeddown that pleasant enclosure, to learn if he were likely to find in theother half of it the woman he loved so well. 

Yes, there she was, sitting on the seat of logs that he had repaired forher, under the apple-tree; but she was not facing in his direction. Hewalked with a noisier tread, he coughed, he shook a bough, he dideverything, in short, but the one thing that Festus did in the samecircumstances--call out to her. He would not have ventured on that forthe world. Any of his signs would have been sufficient to attract her aday or two earlier; now she would not turn. At last, in his fondanxiety, he did what he had never done before without an invitation, andcrossed over into Mrs. Garland's half of the garden, till he stood beforeher. 

When she could not escape him she arose, and, saying 'Good afternoon, trumpet-major, ' in a glacial manner unusual with her, walked away toanother part of the garden. 

Loveday, quite at a loss, had not the strength of mind to perseverefurther. He had a vague apprehension that some imperfect knowledge ofthe previous night's unhappy business had reached her; and, unable toremedy the evil without telling more than he dared, he went into themill, where his father still was, looking doleful enough, what with hisconcern at events and the extra quantity of flour upon his face throughsticking so closely to business that day. 

'Well, John; Bob has told you all, of course? A queer, strange, perplexing thing, isn't it? I can't make it out at all. There must besomething wrong in the woman, or it couldn't have happened. I haven'tbeen so upset for years. '

'Nor have I. I wouldn't it should have happened for all I own in theworld, ' said the dragoon. 'Have you spoke to Anne Garland to-day--or hasanybody been talking to her?'

'Festus Derriman rode by half-an-hour ago, and talked to her over thehedge. '

John guessed the rest, and, after standing on the threshold in silenceawhile, walked away towards the camp. 

All this time his brother Robert had been hastening along in pursuit ofthe woman who had withdrawn from the scene to avoid the exposure andcomplete overthrow which would have resulted had she remained. As thedistance lengthened between himself and the mill, Bob was conscious ofsome cooling down of the excitement that had prompted him to set out; buthe did not pause in his walk till he had reached the head of the riverwhich fed the mill-stream. Here, for some indefinite reason, he allowedhis eyes to be attracted by the bubbling spring whose waters never failedor lessened, and he stopped as if to look longer at the scene; it wasreally because his mind was so absorbed by John's story. 

The sun was warm, the spot was a pleasant one, and he deposited hisbundle and sat down. By degrees, as he reflected, first on John's viewand then on his own, his convictions became unsettled; till at length hewas so balanced between the impulse to go on and the impulse to go back, that a puff of wind either way would have been well-nigh sufficient todecide for him. When he allowed John's story to repeat itself in hisears, the reasonableness and good sense of his advice seemed beyondquestion. When, on the other hand, he thought of his poor Matilda'seyes, and her, to him, pleasant ways, their charming arrangements tomarry, and her probable willingness still, he could hardly bring himselfto do otherwise than follow on the road at the top of his speed. 

This strife of thought was so well maintained that sitting and standing, he remained on the borders of the spring till the shadows had stretchedout eastwards, and the chance of overtaking Matilda had grownconsiderably less. Still he did not positively go towards home. At lasthe took a guinea from his pocket, and resolved to put the question to thehazard. 'Heads I go; tails I don't. ' The piece of gold spun in the airand came down heads. 

'No, I won't go, after all, ' he said. 'I won't be steered by accidentsany more. '

He picked up his bundle and switch, and retraced his steps towardsOvercombe Mill, knocking down the brambles and nettles as he went withgloomy and indifferent blows. When he got within sight of the house hebeheld David in the road. 

'All right--all right again, captain!', shouted that retainer. 'Awedding after all! Hurrah!'

'Ah--she's back again?' cried Bob, seizing David, ecstatically, anddancing round with him. 

'No--but it's all the same! it is of no consequence at all, and no harmwill be done! Maister and Mrs. Garland have made up a match, and mean tomarry at once, that the wedding victuals may not be wasted! They felt'twould be a thousand pities to let such good things get blue-vinnied forwant of a ceremony to use 'em upon, and at last they have thought ofthis. '

'Victuals--I don't care for the victuals!' bitterly cried Bob, in a toneof far higher thought. 'How you disappoint me!' and he went slowlytowards the house. 

His father appeared in the opening of the mill-door, looking morecheerful than when they had parted. 'What, Robert, you've been afterher?' he said. 'Faith, then, I wouldn't have followed her if I had beenas sure as you were that she went away in scorn of us. Since you told methat, I have not looked for her at all. '

'I was wrong, father, ' Bob replied gravely, throwing down his bundle andstick. 'Matilda, I find, has not gone away in scorn of us; she has goneaway for other reasons. I followed her some way; but I have come backagain. She may go. '

'Why is she gone?' said the astonished miller. 

Bob had intended, for Matilda's sake, to give no reason to a living soulfor her departure. But he could not treat his father thus reservedly;and he told. 

'She has made great fools of us, ' said the miller deliberately; 'and shemight have made us greater ones. Bob, I thought th' hadst more sense. '

'Well, don't say anything against her, father, ' implored Bob. ''Twas asorry haul, and there's an end on't. Let her down quietly, and keep thesecret. You promise that?'

'I do. ' Loveday the elder remained thinking awhile, and then wenton--'Well, what I was going to say is this: I've hit upon a plan to getout of the awkward corner she has put us in. What you'll think of it Ican't say. '

'David has just given me the heads. '

'And do it hurt your feelings, my son, at such a time?'

'No--I'll bring myself to bear it, anyhow! Why should I object to otherpeople's happiness because I have lost my own?' said Bob, with saintlyself-sacrifice in his air. 

'Well said!' answered the miller heartily. 'But you may be sure thatthere will be no unseemly rejoicing, to disturb ye in your present frameof mind. All the morning I felt more ashamed than I cared to own at thethought of how the neighbours, great and small, would laugh at what theywould call your folly, when they knew what had happened; so I resolved totake this step to stave it off, if so be 'twas possible. And when I sawMrs. Garland I knew I had done right. She pitied me so much for havinghad the house cleaned in vain, and laid in provisions to waste, that itput her into the humour to agree. We mean to do it right off at once, afore the pies and cakes get mouldy and the blackpot stale. 'Twas a goodthought of mine and hers, and I am glad 'tis settled, ' he concludedcheerfully. 

'Poor Matilda!' murmured Bob. 

'There--I was afraid 'twould hurt thy feelings, ' said the miller, withself-reproach: 'making preparations for thy wedding, and using them formy own!'

'No, ' said Bob heroically; 'it shall not. It will be a great comfort inmy sorrow to feel that the splendid grub, and the ale, and your stunningnew suit of clothes, and the great table-cloths you've bought, will bejust as useful now as if I had married myself. Poor Matilda! But youwon't expect me to join in--you hardly can. I can sheer off that dayvery easily, you know. '

'Nonsense, Bob!' said the miller reproachfully. 

'I couldn't stand it--I should break down. '

'Deuce take me if I would have asked her, then, if I had known 'twasgoing to drive thee out of the house! Now, come, Bob, I'll find a way ofarranging it and sobering it down, so that it shall be as melancholy asyou can require--in short, just like a funeral, if thou'lt promise tostay?'

'Very well, ' said the afflicted one. 'On that condition I'll stay. '

XXI. 'UPON THE HILL HE TURNED'

Having entered into this solemn compact with his son, the elder Loveday'snext action was to go to Mrs. Garland, and ask her how the toning down ofthe wedding had best be done. 'It is plain enough that to make merryjust now would be slighting Bob's feelings, as if we didn't care who wasnot married, so long as we were, ' he said. 'But then, what's to be doneabout the victuals?'

'Give a dinner to the poor folk, ' she suggested. 'We can get everythingused up that way. '

'That's true' said the miller. 'There's enough of 'em in these times tocarry off any extras whatsoever. '

'And it will save Bob's feelings wonderfully. And they won't know thatthe dinner was got for another sort of wedding and another sort ofguests; so you'll have their good-will for nothing. '

The miller smiled at the subtlety of the view. 'That can hardly becalled fair, ' he said. 'Still, I did mean some of it for them, for thefriends we meant to ask would not have cleared all. '

Upon the whole the idea pleased him well, particularly when he noticedthe forlorn look of his sailor son as he walked about the place, andpictured the inevitably jarring effect of fiddles and tambourines uponBob's shattered nerves at such a crisis, even if the notes of the formerwere dulled by the application of a mute, and Bob shut up in a distantbedroom--a plan which had at first occurred to him. He therefore toldBob that the surcharged larder was to be emptied by the charitableprocess above alluded to, and hoped he would not mind making himselfuseful in such a good and gloomy work. Bob readily fell in with thescheme, and it was at once put in hand and the tables spread. 

The alacrity with which the substituted wedding was carried out, seemedto show that the worthy pair of neighbours would have joined themselvesinto one long ago, had there previously occurred any domestic incidentdictating such a step as an apposite expedient, apart from their personalwish to marry. 

The appointed morning came, and the service quietly took place at thecheerful hour of ten, in the face of a triangular congregation, of whichthe base was the front pew, and the apex the west door. Mrs. Garlanddressed herself in the muslin shawl like Queen Charlotte's, that Bob hadbrought home, and her best plum-coloured gown, beneath which peeped outher shoes with red rosettes. Anne was present, but she consideratelytoned herself down, so as not to too seriously damage her mother'sappearance. At moments during the ceremony she had a distressing sensethat she ought not to be born, and was glad to get home again. 

The interest excited in the village, though real, was hardly enough tobring a serious blush to the face of coyness. Neighbours' minds hadbecome so saturated by the abundance of showy military and regal incidentlately vouchsafed to them, that the wedding of middle-aged civilians wasof small account, excepting in so far that it solved the question whetheror not Mrs. Garland would consider herself too genteel to mate with agrinder of corn. 

In the evening, Loveday's heart was made glad by seeing the baked andboiled in rapid process of consumption by the kitchenful of peopleassembled for that purpose. Three-quarters of an hour were sufficient tobanish for ever his fears as to spoilt food. The provisions being thecause of the assembly, and not its consequence, it had been determined toget all that would not keep consumed on that day, even if highways andhedges had to be searched for operators. And, in addition to the poorand needy, every cottager's daughter known to the miller was invited, andtold to bring her lover from camp--an expedient which, for lettingdaylight into the inside of full platters, was among the most happy everknown. 

While Mr. And Mrs. Loveday, Anne, and Bob were standing in the parlour, discussing the progress of the entertainment in the next room, John, whohad not been down all day, entered the house and looked in upon themthrough the open door. 

'How's this, John? Why didn't you come before?'

'Had to see the captain, and--other duties, ' said the trumpet-major, in atone which showed no great zeal for explanations. 

'Well, come in, however, ' continued the miller, as his son remained withhis hand on the door-post, surveying them reflectively. 

'I cannot stay long, ' said John, advancing. 'The Route is come, and weare going away. '

'Going away! Where to?'

'To Exonbury. '

'When?'

'Friday morning. '

'All of you?'

'Yes; some to-morrow and some next day. The King goes next week. '

'I am sorry for this, ' said the miller, not expressing half his sorrow bythe simple utterance. 'I wish you could have been here to-day, sincethis is the case, ' he added, looking at the horizon through the window. 

Mrs. Loveday also expressed her regret, which seemed to remind thetrumpet-major of the event of the day, and he went to her and tried tosay something befitting the occasion. Anne had not said that she waseither sorry or glad, but John Loveday fancied that she had looked ratherrelieved than otherwise when she heard his news. His conversation withBob on the down made Bob's manner, too, remarkably cool, notwithstandingthat he had after all followed his brother's advice, which it was as yettoo soon after the event for him to rightly value. John did not know whythe sailor had come back, never supposing that it was because he hadthought better of going, and said to him privately, 'You didn't overtakeher?'

'I didn't try to, ' said Bob. 

'And you are not going to?'

'No; I shall let her drift. '

'I am glad indeed, Bob; you have been wise, ' said John heartily. 

Bob, however, still loved Matilda too well to be other than dissatisfiedwith John and the event that he had precipitated, which the elder brotheronly too promptly perceived; and it made his stay that evening of shortduration. Before leaving he said with some hesitation to his father, including Anne and her mother by his glance, 'Do you think to come up andsee us off?'

The miller answered for them all, and said that of course they wouldcome. 'But you'll step down again between now and then?' he inquired. 

'I'll try to. ' He added after a pause, 'In case I should not, rememberthat Revalley will sound at half past five; we shall leave about eight. Next summer, perhaps, we shall come and camp here again. '

'I hope so, ' said his father and Mrs. Loveday. 

There was something in John's manner which indicated to Anne that hescarcely intended to come down again; but the others did not notice it, and she said nothing. He departed a few minutes later, in the dusk ofthe August evening, leaving Anne still in doubt as to the meaning of hisprivate meeting with Miss Johnson. 

John Loveday had been going to tell them that on the last night, by anespecial privilege, it would be in his power to come and stay with themuntil eleven o'clock, but at the moment of leaving he abandoned theintention. Anne's attitude had chilled him, and made him anxious to beoff. He utilized the spare hours of that last night in another way. 

This was by coming down from the outskirts of the camp in the evening, and seating himself near the brink of the mill-pond as soon as it wasquite dark; where he watched the lights in the different windows till oneappeared in Anne's bedroom, and she herself came forward to shut thecasement, with the candle in her hand. The light shone out upon thebroad and deep mill-head, illuminating to a distinct individuality everymoth and gnat that entered the quivering chain of radiance stretchingacross the water towards him, and every bubble or atom of froth thatfloated into its width. She stood for some time looking out, littlethinking what the darkness concealed on the other side of that widestream; till at length she closed the casement, drew the curtains, andretreated into the room. Presently the light went out, upon which JohnLoveday returned to camp and lay down in his tent. 

The next morning was dull and windy, and the trumpets of the --th soundedReveille for the last time on Overcombe Down. Knowing that the Dragoonswere going away, Anne had slept heedfully, and was at once awakened bythe smart notes. She looked out of the window, to find that the millerwas already astir, his white form being visible at the end of his garden, where he stood motionless, watching the preparations. Anne also lookedon as well as she could through the dim grey gloom, and soon she saw theblue smoke from the cooks' fires creeping fitfully along the ground, instead of rising in vertical columns, as it had done during the fineweather season. Then the men began to carry their bedding to thewaggons, and others to throw all refuse into the trenches, till the downwas lively as an ant-hill. Anne did not want to see John Loveday again, but hearing the household astir, she began to dress at leisure, lookingout at the camp the while. 

When the soldiers had breakfasted, she saw them selling and giving awaytheir superfluous crockery to the natives who had clustered round; andthen they pulled down and cleared away the temporary kitchens which theyhad constructed when they came. A tapping of tent-pegs and wriggling ofpicket-posts followed, and soon the cones of white canvas, now almostbecome a component part of the landscape, fell to the ground. At thismoment the miller came indoors and asked at the foot of the stairs ifanybody was going up the hill with him. 

Anne felt that, in spite of the cloud hanging over John in her mind, itwould ill become the present moment not to see him off, and she wentdownstairs to her mother, who was already there, though Bob was nowhereto be seen. Each took an arm of the miller, and thus climbed to the topof the hill. By this time the men and horses were at the place ofassembly, and, shortly after the mill-party reached level ground, thetroops slowly began to move forward. When the trumpet-major, half buriedin his uniform, arms, and horse-furniture, drew near to the spot wherethe Lovedays were waiting to see him pass, his father turned anxiously toAnne and said, 'You will shake hands with John?'

Anne faintly replied 'Yes, ' and allowed the miller to take her forward onhis arm to the trackway, so as to be close to the flank of theapproaching column. It came up, many people on each side grasping thehands of the troopers in bidding them farewell; and as soon as JohnLoveday saw the members of his father's household, he stretched down hishand across his right pistol for the same performance. The miller gavehis, then Mrs. Loveday gave hers, and then the hand of the trumpet-majorwas extended towards Anne. But as the horse did not absolutely stop, itwas a somewhat awkward performance for a young woman to undertake, and, more on that account than on any other, Anne drew back, and the gallanttrooper passed by without receiving her adieu. Anne's heart reproachedher for a moment; and then she thought that, after all, he was not goingoff to immediate battle, and that she would in all probability see himagain at no distant date, when she hoped that the mystery of his conductwould be explained. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice at herelbow: 'Thank heaven, he's gone! Now there's a chance for me. '

She turned, and Festus Derriman was standing by her. 

'There's no chance for you, ' she said indignantly. 

'Why not?'

'Because there's another left!'

The words had slipped out quite unintentionally, and she blushed quickly. She would have given anything to be able to recall them; but he hadheard, and said, 'Who?'

Anne went forward to the miller to avoid replying, and Festus caught herno more. 

'Has anybody been hanging about Overcombe Mill except Loveday's son thesoldier?' he asked of a comrade. 

'His son the sailor, ' was the reply. 

'O--his son the sailor, ' said Festus slowly. 'Damn his son the sailor!'

XXII. THE TWO HOUSEHOLDS UNITED

At this particular moment the object of Festus Derriman's fulmination wasassuredly not dangerous as a rival. Bob, after abstractedly watching thesoldiers from the front of the house till they were out of sight, hadgone within doors and seated himself in the mill-parlour, where hisfather found him, his elbows resting on the table and his forehead on hishands, his eyes being fixed upon a document that lay open before him. 

'What art perusing, Bob, with such a long face?'

Bob sighed, and then Mrs. Loveday and Anne entered. ''Tis only a state-paper that I fondly thought I should have a use for, ' he said gloomily. And, looking down as before, he cleared his voice, as if moved inwardlyto go on, and began to read in feeling tones from what proved to be hisnullified marriage licence:--

'"Timothy Titus Philemon, by permission Bishop of Bristol: To our well-beloved Robert Loveday, of the parish of Overcombe, Bachelor; and MatildaJohnson, of the same parish, Spinster. Greeting. "'

Here Anne sighed, but contrived to keep down her sigh to a mere nothing. 

'Beautiful language, isn't it!' said Bob. 'I was never greeted like thatafore!'

'Yes; I have often thought it very excellent language myself, ' said Mrs. Loveday. 

'Come to that, the old gentleman will greet thee like it again any dayfor a couple of guineas, ' said the miller. 

'That's not the point, father! You never could see the real meaning ofthese things. . . . Well, then he goes on: "Whereas ye are, as it isalleged, determined to enter into the holy estate of matrimony--" Butwhy should I read on? It all means nothing now--nothing, and thesplendid words are all wasted upon air. It seems as if I had been hailedby some venerable hoary prophet, and had turned away, put the helm hardup, and wouldn't hear. '

Nobody replied, feeling probably that sympathy could not meet the case, and Bob went on reading the rest of it to himself, occasionally heaving abreath like the wind in a ship's shrouds. 

'I wouldn't set my mind so much upon her, if I was thee, ' said his fatherat last. 

'Why not?'

'Well, folk might call thee a fool, and say thy brains were turning towater. '

Bob was apparently much struck by this thought, and, instead ofcontinuing the discourse further, he carefully folded up the licence, went out, and walked up and down the garden. It was startlingly apt whathis father had said; and, worse than that, what people would call himmight be true, and the liquefaction of his brains turn out to be nofable. By degrees he became much concerned, and the more he examinedhimself by this new light the more clearly did he perceive that he was ina very bad way. 

On reflection he remembered that since Miss Johnson's departure hisappetite had decreased amazingly. He had eaten in meat no more thanfourteen or fifteen ounces a day, but one-third of a quartern pudding onan average, in vegetables only a small heap of potatoes and half a Yorkcabbage, and no gravy whatever; which, considering the usual appetite ofa seaman for fresh food at the end of a long voyage, was no small indexof the depression of his mind. Then he had waked once every night, andon one occasion twice. While dressing each morning since the gloomy dayhe had not whistled more than seven bars of a hornpipe without stoppingand falling into thought of a most painful kind; and he had told none butabsolutely true stories of foreign parts to the neighbouring villagerswhen they saluted and clustered about him, as usual, for anything hechose to pour forth--except that story of the whale whose eye was aboutas large as the round pond in Derriman's ewe-lease--which was liketempting fate to set a seal for ever upon his tongue as a traveller. Allthis enervation, mental and physical, had been produced by Matilda'sdeparture. 

He also considered what he had lost of the rational amusements of manhoodduring these unfortunate days. He might have gone to the neighbouringfashionable resort every afternoon, stood before Gloucester Lodge tillthe King and Queen came out, held his hat in his hand, and enjoyed theirMajesties' smiles at his homage all for nothing--watched thepicket-mounting, heard the different bands strike up, observed the staff;and, above all, have seen the pretty town girls go trip-trip-trip alongthe esplanade, deliberately fixing their innocent eyes on the distantsea, the grey cliffs, and the sky, and accidentally on the soldiers andhimself. 

'I'll raze out her image, ' he said. 'She shall make a fool of me nomore. ' And his resolve resulted in conduct which had elements of realgreatness. 

He went back to his father, whom he found in the mill-loft. ''Tis true, father, what you say, ' he observed: 'my brains will turn to bilge-waterif I think of her much longer. By the oath of a--navigator, I wish Icould sigh less and laugh more! She's gone--why can't I let her go, andbe happy? But how begin?'

'Take it careless, my son, ' said the miller, 'and lay yourself out toenjoy snacks and cordials. '

'Ah--that's a thought!' said Bob. 

'Baccy is good for't. So is sperrits. Though I don't advise thee todrink neat. '

'Baccy--I'd almost forgot it!' said Captain Loveday. 

He went to his room, hastily untied the package of tobacco that he hadbrought home, and began to make use of it in his own way, calling toDavid for a bottle of the old household mead that had lain in the cellarthese eleven years. He was discovered by his father three-quarters of anhour later as a half-invisible object behind a cloud of smoke. 

The miller drew a breath of relief. 'Why, Bob, ' he said, 'I thought thehouse was a-fire!'

'I'm smoking rather fast to drown my reflections, father. 'Tis no use tochaw. '

To tempt his attenuated appetite the unhappy mate made David cook anomelet and bake a seed-cake, the latter so richly compounded that itopened to the knife like a freckled buttercup. With the same object hestuck night-lines into the banks of the mill-pond, and drew up nextmorning a family of fat eels, some of which were skinned and prepared forhis breakfast. They were his favourite fish, but such had been hiscondition that, until the moment of making this effort, he had quiteforgotten their existence at his father's back-door. 

In a few days Bob Loveday had considerably improved in tone and vigour. One other obvious remedy for his dejection was to indulge in the societyof Miss Garland, love being so much more effectually got rid of bydisplacement than by attempted annihilation. But Loveday's belief thathe had offended her beyond forgiveness, and his ever-present sense of heras a woman who by education and antecedents was fitted to adorn a highersphere than his own, effectually kept him from going near her for a longtime, notwithstanding that they were inmates of one house. The reservewas, however, in some degree broken by the appearance one morning, laterin the season, of the point of a saw through the partition which dividedAnne's room from the Loveday half of the house. Though she dined andsupped with her mother and the Loveday family, Miss Garland had stillcontinued to occupy her old apartments, because she found it moreconvenient there to pursue her hobbies of wool-work and of copying herfather's old pictures. The division wall had not as yet been brokendown. 

As the saw worked its way downwards under her astonished gaze Anne jumpedup from her drawing; and presently the temporary canvasing and paperingwhich had sealed up the old door of communication was cut completelythrough. The door burst open, and Bob stood revealed on the other side, with the saw in his hand. 

'I beg your ladyship's pardon, ' he said, taking off the hat he had beenworking in, as his handsome face expanded into a smile. 'I didn't knowthis door opened into your private room. '

'Indeed, Captain Loveday!'

'I am pulling down the division on principle, as we are now one family. But I really thought the door opened into your passage. '

'It don't matter; I can get another room. '

'Not at all. Father wouldn't let me turn you out. I'll close it upagain. '

But Anne was so interested in the novelty of a new doorway that shewalked through it, and found herself in a dark low passage which she hadnever seen before. 

'It leads to the mill, ' said Bob. 'Would you like to go in and see it atwork? But perhaps you have already. '

'Only into the ground floor. '

'Come all over it. I am practising as grinder, you know, to help myfather. '

She followed him along the dark passage, in the side of which he opened alittle trap, when she saw a great slimy cavern, where the long arms ofthe mill-wheel flung themselves slowly and distractedly round, andsplashing water-drops caught the little light that strayed into thegloomy place, turning it into stars and flashes. A cold mist-laden puffof air came into their faces, and the roar from within made it necessaryfor Anne to shout as she said, 'It is dismal! let us go on. '

Bob shut the trap, the roar ceased, and they went on to the inner part ofthe mill, where the air was warm and nutty, and pervaded by a fog offlour. Then they ascended the stairs, and saw the stones lumbering roundand round, and the yellow corn running down through the hopper. Theyclimbed yet further to the top stage, where the wheat lay in bins, andwhere long rays like feelers stretched in from the sun through the littlewindow, got nearly lost among cobwebs and timber, and completed theircourse by marking the opposite wall with a glowing patch of gold. 

In his earnestness as an exhibitor Bob opened the bolter, which wasspinning rapidly round, the result being that a dense cloud of flourrolled out in their faces, reminding Anne that her complexion wasprobably much paler by this time than when she had entered the mill. Shethanked her companion for his trouble, and said she would now go down. Hefollowed her with the same deference as hitherto, and with a sudden andincreasing sense that of all cures for his former unhappy passion thiswould have been the nicest, the easiest, and the most effectual, if hehad only been fortunate enough to keep her upon easy terms. But MissGarland showed no disposition to go further than accept his services as aguide; she descended to the open air, shook the flour from her like abird, and went on into the garden amid the September sunshine, whose rayslay level across the blue haze which the earth gave forth. The gnatswere dancing up and down in airy companies, the nasturtium flowers shoneout in groups from the dark hedge over which they climbed, and the mellowsmell of the decline of summer was exhaled by everything. Bob followedher as far as the gate, looked after her, thought of her as the same girlwho had half encouraged him years ago, when she seemed so superior tohim; though now they were almost equal she apparently thought him beneathher. It was with a new sense of pleasure that his mind flew to the factthat she was now an inmate of his father's house. 

His obsequious bearing was continued during the next week. In the busyhours of the day they seldom met, but they regularly encountered eachother at meals, and these cheerful occasions began to have an interestfor him quite irrespective of dishes and cups. When Anne entered andtook her seat she was always loudly hailed by Miller Loveday as hewhetted his knife; but from Bob she condescended to accept no suchfamiliar greeting, and they often sat down together as if each had ablind eye in the direction of the other. Bob sometimes told serious andcorrect stories about sea-captains, pilots, boatswains, mates, ableseamen, and other curious fauna of the marine world; but these weredirectly addressed to his father and Mrs. Loveday, Anne being included atthe clinching-point by a glance only. He sometimes opened bottles ofsweet cider for her, and then she thanked him; but even this did not leadto her encouraging his chat. 

One day when Anne was paring an apple she was left at table with theyoung man. 'I have made something for you, ' he said. 

She looked all over the table; nothing was there save the ordinaryremnants. 

'O I don't mean that it is here; it is out by the bridge at themill-head. '

He arose, and Anne followed with curiosity in her eyes, and with her firmlittle mouth pouted up to a puzzled shape. On reaching the mossy mill-head she found that he had fixed in the keen damp draught which alwaysprevailed over the wheel an AEolian harp of large size. At present thestrings were partly covered with a cloth. He lifted it, and the wiresbegan to emit a weird harmony which mingled curiously with the plashingof the wheel. 

'I made it on purpose for you, Miss Garland, ' he said. 

She thanked him very warmly, for she had never seen anything like such aninstrument before, and it interested her. 'It was very thoughtful of youto make it, ' she added. 'How came you to think of such a thing?'

'O I don't know exactly, ' he replied, as if he did not care to bequestioned on the point. 'I have never made one in my life till now. '

Every night after this, during the mournful gales of autumn, the strangemixed music of water, wind, and strings met her ear, swelling and sinkingwith an almost supernatural cadence. The character of the instrument wasfar enough removed from anything she had hitherto seen of Bob's hobbies;so that she marvelled pleasantly at the new depths of poetry thiscontrivance revealed as existent in that young seaman's nature, andallowed her emotions to flow out yet a little further in the olddirection, notwithstanding her late severe resolve to bar them back. 

One breezy night, when the mill was kept going into the small hours, andthe wind was exactly in the direction of the water-current, the music somingled with her dreams as to wake her: it seemed to rhythmically setitself to the words, 'Remember me! think of me!' She was much impressed;the sounds were almost too touching; and she spoke to Bob the nextmorning on the subject. 

'How strange it is that you should have thought of fixing that harp wherethe water gushes!' she gently observed. 'It affects me almost painfullyat night. You are poetical, Captain Bob. But it is too--too sad!'

'I will take it away, ' said Captain Bob promptly. 'It certainly is toosad; I thought so myself. I myself was kept awake by it one night. '

'How came you to think of making such a peculiar thing?'

'Well, ' said Bob, 'it is hardly worth saying why. It is not a good placefor such a queer noisy machine; and I'll take it away. '

'On second thoughts, ' said Anne, 'I should like it to remain a littlelonger, because it sets me thinking. '

'Of me?' he asked with earnest frankness. 

Anne's colour rose fast. 

'Well, yes, ' she said, trying to infuse much plain matter-of-fact intoher voice. 'Of course I am led to think of the person who invented it. '

Bob seemed unaccountably embarrassed, and the subject was not pursued. About half-an-hour later he came to her again, with something of anuneasy look. 

'There was a little matter I didn't tell you just now, Miss Garland, ' hesaid. 'About that harp thing, I mean. I did make it, certainly, but itwas my brother John who asked me to do it, just before he went away. Johnis very musical, as you know, and he said it would interest you; but ashe didn't ask me to tell, I did not. Perhaps I ought to have, and nothave taken the credit to myself. '

'O, it is nothing!' said Anne quickly. 'It is a very incompleteinstrument after all, and it will be just as well for you to take it awayas you first proposed. '

He said that he would, but he forgot to do it that day; and the followingnight there was a high wind, and the harp cried and moaned so movinglythat Anne, whose window was quite near, could hardly bear the sound withits new associations. John Loveday was present to her mind all night asan ill-used man; and yet she could not own that she had ill-used him. 

The harp was removed next day. Bob, feeling that his credit fororiginality was damaged in her eyes, by way of recovering it set himselfto paint the summer-house which Anne frequented, and when he came out heassured her that it was quite his own idea. 

'It wanted doing, certainly, ' she said, in a neutral tone. 

'It is just about troublesome. '

'Yes; you can't quite reach up. That's because you are not very tall; isit not, Captain Loveday?'

'You never used to say things like that. '

'O, I don't mean that you are much less than tall! Shall I hold thepaint for you, to save your stepping down?'

'Thank you, if you would. '

She took the paint-pot, and stood looking at the brush as it moved up anddown in his hand. 

'I hope I shall not sprinkle your fingers, ' he observed as he dipped. 

'O, that would not matter! You do it very well. '

'I am glad to hear that you think so. '

'But perhaps not quite so much art is demanded to paint a summer-house asto paint a picture?'

Thinking that, as a painter's daughter, and a person of educationsuperior to his own, she spoke with a flavour of sarcasm, he felt humbledand said--

'You did not use to talk like that to me. '

'I was perhaps too young then to take any pleasure in giving pain, ' sheobserved daringly. 

'Does it give you pleasure?'

Anne nodded. 

'I like to give pain to people who have given pain to me, ' she saidsmartly, without removing her eyes from the green liquid in her hand. 

'I ask your pardon for that. '

'I didn't say I meant you--though I did mean you. '

Bob looked and looked at her side face till he was bewitched into puttingdown his brush. 

'It was that stupid forgetting of 'ee for a time!' he exclaimed. 'Well, I hadn't seen you for so very long--consider how many years! O, dearAnne!' he said, advancing to take her hand, 'how well we knew one anotherwhen we were children! You was a queen to me then; and so you are now, and always. '

Possibly Anne was thrilled pleasantly enough at having brought the truantvillage lad to her feet again; but he was not to find the situation soeasy as he imagined, and her hand was not to be taken yet. 

'Very pretty!' she said, laughing. 'And only six weeks since MissJohnson left. '

'Zounds, don't say anything about that!' implored Bob. 'I swear that Inever--never deliberately loved her--for a long time together, that is;it was a sudden sort of thing, you know. But towards you--I have more orless honoured and respectfully loved you, off and on, all my life. There, that's true. '

Anne retorted quickly--

'I am willing, off and on, to believe you, Captain Robert. But I don'tsee any good in your making these solemn declarations. '

'Give me leave to explain, dear Miss Garland. It is to get you to bepleased to renew an old promise--made years ago--that you'll think o'me. '

'Not a word of any promise will I repeat. '

'Well, well, I won't urge 'ee to-day. Only let me beg of you to get overthe quite wrong notion you have of me; and it shall be my whole endeavourto fetch your gracious favour. '

Anne turned away from him and entered the house, whither in the course ofa quarter of an hour he followed her, knocking at her door, and asking tobe let in. She said she was busy; whereupon he went away, to come backagain in a short time and receive the same answer. 

'I have finished painting the summer-house for you, ' he said through thedoor. 

'I cannot come to see it. I shall be engaged till supper-time. '

She heard him breathe a heavy sigh and withdraw, murmuring somethingabout his bad luck in being cut away from the starn like this. But itwas not over yet. When supper-time came and they sat down together, shetook upon herself to reprove him for what he had said to her in thegarden. 

Bob made his forehead express despair. 

'Now, I beg you this one thing, ' he said. 'Just let me know your wholemind. Then I shall have a chance to confess my faults and mend them, orclear my conduct to your satisfaction. '

She answered with quickness, but not loud enough to be heard by the oldpeople at the other end of the table--'Then, Captain Loveday, I will tellyou one thing, one fault, that perhaps would have been more proper to mycharacter than to yours. You are too easily impressed by new faces, andthat gives me a _bad opinion_ of you--yes, a _bad opinion_. '

'O, that's it!' said Bob slowly, looking at her with the intense respectof a pupil for a master, her words being spoken in a manner so preciselybetween jest and earnest that he was in some doubt how they were to bereceived. 'Impressed by new faces. It is wrong, certainly, of me. '

The popping of a cork, and the pouring out of strong beer by the millerwith a view to giving it a head, were apparently distractions sufficientto excuse her in not attending further to him; and during the remainderof the sitting her gentle chiding seemed to be sinking seriously into hismind. Perhaps her own heart ached to see how silent he was; but she hadalways meant to punish him. Day after day for two or three weeks shepreserved the same demeanour, with a self-control which did justice toher character. And, on his part, considering what he had to put upwith--how she eluded him, snapped him off, refused to come out when hecalled her, refused to see him when he wanted to enter the little parlourwhich she had now appropriated to her private use, his patience testifiedstrongly to his good-humour. 

XXIII. MILITARY PREPARATIONS ON AN EXTENDED SCALE

Christmas had passed. Dreary winter with dark evenings had given placeto more dreary winter with light evenings. Rapid thaws had ended inrain, rain in wind, wind in dust. Showery days had come--the season ofpink dawns and white sunsets; and people hoped that the March weather wasover. 

The chief incident that concerned the household at the mill was that themiller, following the example of all his neighbours, had become avolunteer, and duly appeared twice a week in a red, long-tailed militarycoat, pipe-clayed breeches, black cloth gaiters, a heel-balled helmet-hat, with a tuft of green wool, and epaulettes of the same colour andmaterial. Bob still remained neutral. Not being able to decide whetherto enrol himself as a sea-fencible, a local militia-man, or a volunteer, he simply went on dancing attendance upon Anne. Mrs. Loveday had becomeawake to the fact that the pair of young people stood in a curiousattitude towards each other; but as they were never seen with their headstogether, and scarcely ever sat even in the same room, she could not besure what their movements meant. 

Strangely enough (or perhaps naturally enough), since entering theLoveday family herself, she had gradually grown to think less favourablyof Anne doing the same thing, and reverted to her original idea ofencouraging Festus; this more particularly because he had of late shownsuch perseverance in haunting the precincts of the mill, presumably withthe intention of lighting upon the young girl. But the weather had kepther mostly indoors. 

One afternoon it was raining in torrents. Such leaves as there were ontrees at this time of year--those of the laurel and otherevergreens--staggered beneath the hard blows of the drops which fell uponthem, and afterwards could be seen trickling down the stems beneath andsilently entering the ground. The surface of the mill-pond leapt up in athousand spirts under the same downfall, and clucked like a hen in therat-holes along the banks as it undulated under the wind. The only dryspot visible from the front windows of the mill-house was the inside of asmall shed, on the opposite side of the courtyard. While Mrs. Lovedaywas noticing the threads of rain descending across its interior shade, Festus Derriman walked up and entered it for shelter, which, owing to thelumber within, it but scantily afforded to a man who would have been amatch for one of Frederick William's Patagonians. 

It was an excellent opportunity for helping on her scheme. Anne was inthe back room, and by asking him in till the rain was over she wouldbring him face to face with her daughter, whom, as the days went on, sheincreasingly wished to marry other than a Loveday, now that the romanceof her own alliance with the millet had in some respects worn off. Shewas better provided for than before; she was not unhappy; but the plainfact was that she had married beneath her. She beckoned to Festusthrough the window-pane; he instantly complied with her signal, having infact placed himself there on purpose to be noticed; for he knew that MissGarland would not be out-of-doors on such a day. 

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Loveday, ' said Festus on entering. 'There now--ifI didn't think that's how it would be!' His voice had suddenly warmed toanger, for he had seen a door close in the back part of the room, a lithefigure having previously slipped through. 

Mrs. Loveday turned, observed that Anne was gone, and said, 'What is it?'as if she did not know. 

'O, nothing, nothing!' said Festus crossly. 'You know well enough whatit is, ma'am; only you make pretence otherwise. But I'll bring her tobook yet. You shall drop your haughty airs, my charmer! She littlethinks I have kept an account of 'em all. '

'But you must treat her politely, sir, ' said Mrs. Loveday, secretlypleased at these signs of uncontrollable affection. 

'Don't tell me of politeness or generosity, ma'am! She is more than amatch for me. She regularly gets over me. I have passed by this housefive-and-fifty times since last Martinmas, and this is all my rewardfor't!'

'But you will stay till the rain is over, sir?'

'No. I don't mind rain. I'm off again. She's got somebody else in hereye!' And the yeoman went out, slamming the door. 

Meanwhile the slippery object of his hopes had gone along the darkpassage, passed the trap which opened on the wheel, and through the doorinto the mill, where she was met by Bob, who looked up from the flour-shoot inquiringly and said, 'You want me, Miss Garland?'

'O no, ' said she. 'I only want to be allowed to stand here a fewminutes. '

He looked at her to know if she meant it, and finding that she did, returned to his post. When the mill had rumbled on a little longer hecame back. 

'Bob, ' she said, when she saw him move, 'remember that you are at work, and have no time to stand close to me. '

He bowed and went to his original post again, Anne watching from thewindow till Festus should leave. The mill rumbled on as before, and atlast Bob came to her for the third time. 'Now, Bob--' she began. 

'On my honour, 'tis only to ask a question. Will you walk with me tochurch next Sunday afternoon?'

'Perhaps I will, ' she said. But at this moment the yeoman left thehouse, and Anne, to escape further parley, returned to the dwelling bythe way she had come. 

Sunday afternoon arrived, and the family was standing at the door waitingfor the church bells to begin. From that side of the house they couldsee southward across a paddock to the rising ground further ahead, wherethere grew a large elm-tree, beneath whose boughs footpaths crossed indifferent directions, like meridians at the pole. The tree was old, andin summer the grass beneath it was quite trodden away by the feet of themany trysters and idlers who haunted the spot. The tree formed aconspicuous object in the surrounding landscape. 

While they looked, a foot soldier in red uniform and white breeches camealong one of the paths, and stopping beneath the elm, took from hispocket a paper, which he proceeded to nail up by the four corners to thetrunk. He drew back, looked at it, and went on his way. Bob got hisglass from indoors and levelled it at the placard, but after looking fora long time he could make out nothing but a lion and a unicorn at thetop. Anne, who was ready for church, moved away from the door, though itwas yet early, and showed her intention of going by way of the elm. Thepaper had been so impressively nailed up that she was curious to read iteven at this theological time. Bob took the opportunity of following, and reminded her of her promise. 

'Then walk behind me not at all close, ' she said. 

'Yes, ' he replied, immediately dropping behind. 

The ludicrous humility of his manner led her to add playfully over hershoulder, 'It serves you right, you know. '

'I deserve anything, but I must take the liberty to say that I hope mybehaviour about Matil--, in forgetting you awhile, will not make ye wishto keep me _always_ behind?'

She replied confidentially, 'Why I am so earnest not to be seen with youis that I may appear to people to be independent of you. Knowing what Ido of your weaknesses I can do no otherwise. You must be schooled into--'

'O, Anne, ' sighed Bob, 'you hit me hard--too hard! If ever I do win youI am sure I shall have fairly earned you. '

'You are not what you once seemed to be, ' she returned softly. 'I don'tquite like to let myself love you. ' The last words were not veryaudible, and as Bob was behind he caught nothing of them, nor did he seehow sentimental she had become all of a sudden. They walked the rest ofthe way in silence, and coming to the tree read as follows:--

 ADDRESS TO ALL RANKS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF ENGLISHMEN. 

 FRIENDS AND COUNTRYMEN, --The French are now assembling the largest force that ever was prepared to invade this Kingdom, with the professed purpose of effecting our complete Ruin and Destruction. They do not disguise their intentions, as they have often done to other Countries; but openly boast that they will come over in such Numbers as cannot be resisted. 

 Wherever the French have lately appeared they have spared neither Rich nor Poor, Old nor Young; but like a Destructive Pestilence have laid waste and destroyed every Thing that before was fair and flourishing. 

 On this occasion no man's service is compelled, but you are invited voluntarily to come forward in defence of everything that is dear to you, by entering your Names on the Lists which are sent to the Tything- man of every Parish, and engaging to act either as _Associated Volunteers bearing Arms_, _as Pioneers and Labourers_, or as _Drivers of Waggons_. 

 As Associated Volunteers you will be called out only once a week, unless the actual Landing of the Enemy should render your further Services necessary. 

 As Pioneers or Labourers you will be employed in Breaking up Roads to hinder the Enemy's advance. 

 Those who have Pickaxes, Spades, Shovels, Bill-hooks, or other Working Implements, are desired to mention them to the Constable or Tything- man of their Parish, in order that they may be entered on the Lists opposite their Homes, to be used if necessary. . . . 

 It is thought desirable to give you this Explanation, that you may not be ignorant of the Duties to which you may be called. But if the love of true Liberty and honest Fame has not ceased to animate the Hearts of Englishmen, Pay, though necessary, will be the least Part of your Reward. You will find your best Recompense in having done your Duty to your King and Country by driving back or destroying your old and implacable Enemy, envious of your Freedom and Happiness, and therefore seeking to destroy them; in having protected your Wives and Children from Death, or worse than Death, which will follow the Success of such Inveterate Foes. 

 ROUSE, therefore, and unite as one man in the best of Causes! United we may defy the World to conquer us; but Victory will never belong to those who are slothful and unprepared. {207}

'I must go and join at once!' said Bob. 

Anne turned to him, all the playfulness gone from her face. 'I wish welived in the north of England, Bob, so as to be further away from wherehe'll land!' she murmured uneasily. 

'Where we are would be Paradise to me, if you would only make it so. '

'It is not right to talk so lightly at such a serious time, ' shethoughtfully returned, going on towards the church. 

On drawing near, they saw through the boughs of a clump of interveningtrees, still leafless, but bursting into buds of amber hue, a glitteringwhich seemed to be reflected from points of steel. In a few moments theyheard above the tender chiming of the church bells the loud voice of aman giving words of command, at which all the metallic points suddenlyshifted like the bristles of a porcupine, and glistened anew. 

''Tis the drilling, ' said Loveday. 'They drill now between the services, you know, because they can't get the men together so readily in the week. It makes me feel that I ought to be doing more than I am!'

When they had passed round the belt of trees, the company of recruitsbecame visible, consisting of the able-bodied inhabitants of the hamletsthereabout, more or less known to Bob and Anne. They were assembled onthe green plot outside the churchyard-gate, dressed in their commonclothes, and the sergeant who had been putting them through their drillwas the man who nailed up the proclamation. He was now engaged inuntying a canvas money-bag, from which he drew forth a handful ofshillings, giving one to each man in payment for his attendance. 

'Men, I dismissed ye too soon--parade, parade again, I say, ' he cried. 'My watch is fast, I find. There's another twenty minutes afore theworship of God commences. Now all of you that ha'n't got firelocks, fallin at the lower end. Eyes right and dress!'

As every man was anxious to see how the rest stood, those at the end ofthe line pressed forward for that purpose, till the line assumed the formof a bow. 

'Look at ye now! Why, you are all a crooking in! Dress, dress!'

They dressed forthwith; but impelled by the same motive they soon resumedtheir former figure, and so they were despairingly permitted to remain. 

'Now, I hope you'll have a little patience, ' said the sergeant, as hestood in the centre of the arc, 'and pay strict attention to the word ofcommand, just exactly as I give it out to ye; and if I should go wrong, Ishall be much obliged to any friend who'll put me right again, for I haveonly been in the army three weeks myself, and we are all liable tomistakes. '

'So we be, so we be, ' said the line heartily. 

''Tention, the whole, then. Poise fawlocks! Very well done!'

'Please, what must we do that haven't got no firelocks!' said the lowerend of the line in a helpless voice. 

'Now, was ever such a question! Why, you must do nothing at all, butthink _how_ you'd poise 'em _if_ you had 'em. You middle men, that arearmed with hurdle-sticks and cabbage-stumps just to make-believe, must ofcourse use 'em as if they were the real thing. Now then, cock fawlocks!Present! Fire! (Pretend to, I mean, and the same time throw yerimagination into the field o' battle. ) Very good--very good indeed;except that some of you were a _little_ too soon, and the rest a _little_too late. '

'Please, sergeant, can I fall out, as I am master-player in the choir, and my bass-viol strings won't stand at this time o' year, unless they bescrewed up a little before the passon comes in?'

'How can you think of such trifles as churchgoing at such a time as this, when your own native country is on the point of invasion?' said thesergeant sternly. 'And, as you know, the drill ends three minutes aforechurch begins, and that's the law, and it wants a quarter of an hour yet. Now, at the word _Prime_, shake the powder (supposing you've got it) intothe priming-pan, three last fingers behind the rammer; then shut yourpans, drawing your right arm nimble-like towards your body. I ought tohave told ye before this, that at _Hand your katridge_, seize it andbring it with a quick motion to your mouth, bite the top well off, anddon't swaller so much of the powder as to make ye hawk and spet insteadof attending to your drill. What's that man a-saying of in the rearrank?'

'Please, sir, 'tis Anthony Cripplestraw, wanting to know how he's to biteoff his katridge, when he haven't a tooth left in 's head?'

'Man! Why, what's your genius for war? Hold it up to your right-handman's mouth, to be sure, and let him nip it off for ye. Well, what haveyou to say, Private Tremlett? Don't ye understand English?'

'Ask yer pardon, sergeant; but what must we infantry of the awkward squaddo if Boney comes afore we get our firelocks?'

'Take a pike, like the rest of the incapables. You'll find a store ofthem ready in the corner of the church tower. Now then--Shoulder--r--r--r--'

'There, they be tinging in the passon!' exclaimed David, Miller Loveday'sman, who also formed one of the company, as the bells changed fromchiming all three together to a quick beating of one. The whole linedrew a breath of relief, threw down their arms, and began running off. 

'Well, then, I must dismiss ye, ' said the sergeant. 'Come back--comeback! Next drill is Tuesday afternoon at four. And, mind, if yourmasters won't let ye leave work soon enough, tell me, and I'll write aline to Gover'ment! 'Tention! To the right--left wheel, I mean--no, no--right wheel. Mar--r--r--rch!'

Some wheeled to the right and some to the left, and some obliging men, including Cripplestraw, tried to wheel both ways. 

'Stop, stop; try again! 'Cruits and comrades, unfortunately when I'm ina hurry I can never remember my right hand from my left, and never couldas a boy. You must excuse me, please. Practice makes perfect, as thesaying is; and, much as I've learnt since I 'listed, we always findsomething new. Now then, right wheel! march! halt! Stand at ease!dismiss! I think that's the order o't, but I'll look in the Gover'mentbook afore Tuesday. ' {211}

Many of the company who had been drilled preferred to go off and spendtheir shillings instead of entering the church; but Anne and Captain Bobpassed in. Even the interior of the sacred edifice was affected by theagitation of the times. The religion of the country had, in fact, changed from love of God to hatred of Napoleon Buonaparte; and, as if toremind the devout of this alteration, the pikes for the pikemen (allthose accepted men who were not otherwise armed) were kept in the churchof each parish. There, against the wall, they always stood--a wholesheaf of them, formed of new ash stems, with a spike driven in at oneend, the stick being preserved from splitting by a ferule. And therethey remained, year after year, in the corner of the aisle, till theywere removed and placed under the gallery stairs, and thence ultimatelyto the belfry, where they grew black, rusty, and worm-eaten, and weregradually stolen and carried off by sextons, parish clerks, whitewashers, window-menders, and other church servants for use at home as rake-stems, benefit-club staves, and pick-handles, in which degraded situations theymay still occasionally be found. 

But in their new and shining state they had a terror for Anne, whose eyeswere involuntarily drawn towards them as she sat at Bob's side during theservice, filling her with bloody visions of their possible use not farfrom the very spot on which they were now assembled. The sermon, too, was on the subject of patriotism; so that when they came out she began toharp uneasily upon the probability of their all being driven from theirhomes. 

Bob assured her that with the sixty thousand regulars, the militiareserve of a hundred and twenty thousand, and the three hundred thousandvolunteers, there was not much to fear. 

'But I sometimes have a fear that poor John will be killed, ' he continuedafter a pause. 'He is sure to be among the first that will have to facethe invaders, and the trumpeters get picked off. '

'There is the same chance for him as for the others, ' said Anne. 

'Yes--yes--the same chance, such as it is. You have never liked Johnsince that affair of Matilda Johnson, have you?'

'Why?' she quickly asked. 

'Well, ' said Bob timidly, 'as it is a ticklish time for him, would it notbe worth while to make up any differences before the crash comes?'

'I have nothing to make up, ' said Anne, with some distress. She stillfully believed the trumpet-major to have smuggled away Miss Johnsonbecause of his own interest in that lady, which must have made hisprofessions to herself a mere pastime; but that very conduct had in itthe curious advantage to herself of setting Bob free. 

'Since John has been gone, ' continued her companion, 'I have found outmore of his meaning, and of what he really had to do with that woman'sflight. Did you know that he had anything to do with it?'

'Yes. '

'That he got her to go away?'

She looked at Bob with surprise. He was not exasperated with John, andyet he knew so much as this. 

'Yes, ' she said; 'what did it mean?'

He did not explain to her then; but the possibility of John's death, which had been newly brought home to him by the military events of theday, determined him to get poor John's character cleared. Reproachinghimself for letting her remain so long with a mistaken idea of him, Bobwent to his father as soon as they got home, and begged him to get Mrs. Loveday to tell Anne the true reason of John's objection to Miss Johnsonas a sister-in-law. 

'She thinks it is because they were old lovers new met, and that he wantsto marry her, ' he exclaimed to his father in conclusion. 

'Then _that's_ the meaning of the split between Miss Nancy and Jack, 'said the miller. 

'What, were they any more than common friends?' asked Bob uneasily. 

'Not on her side, perhaps. '

'Well, we must do it, ' replied Bob, painfully conscious that commonjustice to John might bring them into hazardous rivalry, yet determinedto be fair. 'Tell it all to Mrs. Loveday, and get her to tell Anne. '

XXIV. A LETTER, A VISITOR, AND A TIN BOX

The result of the explanation upon Anne was bitter self-reproach. Shewas so sorry at having wronged the kindly soldier that next morning shewent by herself to the down, and stood exactly where his tent had coveredthe sod on which he had lain so many nights, thinking what sadness hemust have suffered because of her at the time of packing up and goingaway. After that she wiped from her eyes the tears of pity which hadcome there, descended to the house, and wrote an impulsive letter to him, in which occurred the following passages, indiscreet enough under thecircumstances:--

 'I find all justice, all rectitude, on your side, John; and all impertinence, all inconsiderateness, on mine. I am so much convinced of your honour in the whole transaction, that I shall for the future mistrust myself in everything. And if it be possible, whenever I differ from you on any point I shall take an hour's time for consideration before I say that I differ. If I have lost your friendship, I have only myself to thank for it; but I sincerely hope that you can forgive. '

After writing this she went to the garden, where Bob was shearing thespring grass from the paths. 'What is John's direction?' she said, holding the sealed letter in her hand. 

'Exonbury Barracks, ' Bob faltered, his countenance sinking. 

She thanked him and went indoors. When he came in, later in the day, hepassed the door of her empty sitting-room and saw the letter on themantelpiece. He disliked the sight of it. Hearing voices in the otherroom, he entered and found Anne and her mother there, talking toCripplestraw, who had just come in with a message from Squire Derriman, requesting Miss Garland, as she valued the peace of mind of an old andtroubled man, to go at once and see him. 

'I cannot go, ' she said, not liking the risk that such a visit involved. 

An hour later Cripplestraw shambled again into the passage, on the sameerrand. 

'Maister's very poorly, and he hopes that you'll come, Mis'ess Anne. Hewants to see 'ee very particular about the French. '

Anne would have gone in a moment, but for the fear that some one besidesthe farmer might encounter her, and she answered as before. 

Another hour passed, and the wheels of a vehicle were heard. Cripplestrawhad come for the third time, with a horse and gig; he was dressed in hisbest clothes, and brought with him on this occasion a basket containingraisins, almonds, oranges, and sweet cakes. Offering them to her as agift from the old farmer, he repeated his request for her to accompanyhim, the gig and best mare having been sent as an additional inducement. 

'I believe the old gentleman is in love with you, Anne, ' said her mother. 

'Why couldn't he drive down himself to see me?' Anne inquired ofCripplestraw. 

'He wants you at the house, please. '

'Is Mr. Festus with him?'

'No; he's away to Budmouth. '

'I'll go, ' said she. 

'And I may come and meet you?' said Bob. 

'There's my letter--what shall I do about that?' she said, instead ofanswering him. 'Take my letter to the post-office, and you may come, 'she added. 

He said yes and went out, Cripplestraw retreating to the door till sheshould be ready. 

'What letter is it?' said her mother. 

'Only one to John, ' said Anne. 'I have asked him to forgive mysuspicions. I could do no less. '

'Do you want to marry _him_?' asked Mrs. Loveday bluntly. 

'Mother!'

'Well; he will take that letter as an encouragement. Can't you see thathe will, you foolish girl?'

Anne did see instantly. 'Of course!' she said. 'Tell Robert that heneed not go. '

She went to her room to secure the letter. It was gone from themantelpiece, and on inquiry it was found that the miller, seeing itthere, had sent David with it to Budmouth hours ago. Anne said nothing, and set out for Oxwell Hall with Cripplestraw. 

'William, ' said Mrs. Loveday to the miller when Anne was gone and Bob hadresumed his work in the garden, 'did you get that letter sent off onpurpose?'

'Well, I did. I wanted to make sure of it. John likes her, and now'twill be made up; and why shouldn't he marry her? I'll start him inbusiness, if so be she'll have him. '

'But she is likely to marry Festus Derriman. '

'I don't want her to marry anybody but John, ' said the miller doggedly. 

'Not if she is in love with Bob, and has been for years, and he withher?' asked his wife triumphantly. 

'In love with Bob, and he with her?' repeated Loveday. 

'Certainly, ' said she, going off and leaving him to his reflections. 

When Anne reached the hall she found old Mr. Derriman in his customarychair. His complexion was more ashen, but his movement in rising at herentrance, putting a chair and shutting the door behind her, were much thesame as usual. 

'Thank God you've come, my dear girl, ' he said earnestly. 'Ah, you don'ttrip across to read to me now! Why did ye cost me so much to fetch you?Fie! A horse and gig, and a man's time in going three times. And what Isent ye cost a good deal in Budmouth market, now everything is so dearthere, and 'twould have cost more if I hadn't bought the raisins andoranges some months ago, when they were cheaper. I tell you this becausewe are old friends, and I have nobody else to tell my troubles to. But Idon't begrudge anything to ye since you've come. '

'I am not much pleased to come, even now, ' said she. 'What can make youso seriously anxious to see me?'

'Well, you be a good girl and true; and I've been thinking that of allpeople of the next generation that I can trust, you are the best. 'Tismy bonds and my title-deeds, such as they be, and the leases, you know, and a few guineas in packets, and more than these, my will, that I haveto speak about. Now do ye come this way. '

'O, such things as those!' she returned, with surprise. 'I don'tunderstand those things at all. '

'There's nothing to understand. 'Tis just this. The French will be herewithin two months; that's certain. I have it on the best authority, thatthe army at Boulogne is ready, the boats equipped, the plans laid, andthe First Consul only waits for a tide. Heaven knows what will become o'the men o' these parts! But most likely the women will he spared. NowI'll show 'ee. '

He led her across the hall to a stone staircase of semi-circular plan, which conducted to the cellars. 

'Down here?' she said. 

'Yes; I must trouble ye to come down here. I have thought and thoughtwho is the woman that can best keep a secret for six months, and I say, "Anne Garland. " You won't be married before then?'

'O no!' murmured the young woman. 

'I wouldn't expect ye to keep a close tongue after such a thing as that. But it will not be necessary. '

When they reached the bottom of the steps he struck a light from a tinder-box, and unlocked the middle one of three doors which appeared in thewhitewashed wall opposite. The rays of the candle fell upon the vaultand sides of a long low cellar, littered with decayed woodwork from otherparts of the hall, among the rest stair-balusters, carved finials, tracery panels, and wainscoting. But what most attracted her eye was asmall flagstone turned up in the middle of the floor, a heap of earthbeside it, and a measuring-tape. Derriman went to the corner of thecellar, and pulled out a clamped box from under the straw. 'You berather heavy, my dear, eh?' he said, affectionately addressing the box ashe lifted it. 'But you are going to be put in a safe place, you know, orthat rascal will get hold of ye, and carry ye off and ruin me. ' He thenwith some difficulty lowered the box into the hole, raked in the earthupon it, and lowered the flagstone, which he was a long time in fixing tohis satisfaction. Miss Garland, who was romantically interested, helpedhim to brush away the fragments of loose earth; and when he had scatteredover the floor a little of the straw that lay about, they again ascendedto upper air. 

'Is this all, sir?' said Anne. 

'Just a moment longer, honey. Will you come into the great parlour?'

She followed him thither. 

'If anything happens to me while the fighting is going on--it may be onthese very fields--you will know what to do, ' he resumed. 'But firstplease sit down again, there's a dear, whilst I write what's in my head. See, there's the best paper, and a new quill that I've afforded myselffor't. '

'What a strange business! I don't think I much like it, Mr. Derriman, 'she said, seating herself. 

He had by this time begun to write, and murmured as he wrote--

'"Twenty-three and a half from N. W. Sixteen and three-quarters fromN. E. "--There, that's all. Now I seal it up and give it to you to keepsafe till I ask ye for it, or you hear of my being trampled down by theenemy. '

'What does it mean?' she asked, as she received the paper. 

'Clk! Ha! ha! Why, that's the distance of the box from the two cornersof the cellar. I measured it before you came. And, my honey, to makeall sure, if the French soldiery are after ye, tell your mother themeaning on't, or any other friend, in case they should put ye to death, and the secret be lost. But that I am sure I hope they won't do, thoughyour pretty face will be a sad bait to the soldiers. I often have wishedyou was my daughter, honey; and yet in these times the less cares a manhas the better, so I am glad you bain't. Shall my man drive you home?'

'No, no, ' she said, much depressed by the words he had uttered. 'I canfind my way. You need not trouble to come down. '

'Then take care of the paper. And if you outlive me, you'll find I havenot forgot you. '

XXV. FESTUS SHOWS HIS LOVE

Festus Derriman had remained in the Royal watering-place all that day, his horse being sick at stables; but, wishing to coax or bully from hisuncle a remount for the coming summer, he set off on foot for Oxwellearly in the evening. When he drew near to the village, or rather to thehall, which was a mile from the village, he overtook a slim, quick-eyedwoman, sauntering along at a leisurely pace. She was fashionably dressedin a green spencer, with 'Mameluke' sleeves, and wore a velvet Spanishhat and feather. 

'Good afternoon t'ye, ma'am, ' said Festus, throwing a sword-and-pistolair into his greeting. 'You are out for a walk?'

'I _am_ out for a walk, captain, ' said the lady, who had criticized himfrom the crevice of her eye, without seeming to do much more thancontinue her demure look forward, and gave the title as a sop to hisapparent character. 

'From the town?--I'd swear it, ma'am; 'pon my honour I would!'

'Yes, I am from the town, sir, ' said she. 

'Ah, you are a visitor! I know every one of the regular inhabitants; wesoldiers are in and out there continually. Festus Derriman, YeomanryCavalry, you know. The fact is, the watering-place is under our charge;the folks will be quite dependent upon us for their deliverance in thecoming struggle. We hold our lives in our hands, and theirs, I may say, in our pockets. What made you come here, ma'am, at such a criticaltime?'

'I don't see that it is such a critical time?'

'But it is, though; and so you'd say if you was as much mixed up with themilitary affairs of the nation as some of us. '

The lady smiled. 'The King is coming this year, anyhow, ' said she. 

'Never!' said Festus firmly. 'Ah, you are one of the attendants at courtperhaps, come on ahead to get the King's chambers ready, in case Boneyshould not land?'

'No, ' she said; 'I am connected with the theatre, though not just at thepresent moment. I have been out of luck for the last year or two; but Ihave fetched up again. I join the company when they arrive for theseason. '

Festus surveyed her with interest. 'Faith! and is it so? Well, ma'am, what part do you play?'

'I am mostly the leading lady--the heroine, ' she said, drawing herself upwith dignity. 

'I'll come and have a look at ye if all's well, and the landing is putoff--hang me if I don't!--Hullo, hullo, what do I see?'

His eyes were stretched towards a distant field, which Anne Garland wasat that moment hastily crossing, on her way from the hall to Overcombe. 

'I must be off. Good-day to ye, dear creature!' he exclaimed, hurryingforward. 

The lady said, 'O, you droll monster!' as she smiled and watched himstride ahead. 

Festus bounded on over the hedge, across the intervening patch of green, and into the field which Anne was still crossing. In a moment or two shelooked back, and seeing the well-known Herculean figure of the yeomanbehind her felt rather alarmed, though she determined to show nodifference in her outward carriage. But to maintain her natural gait wasbeyond her powers. She spasmodically quickened her pace; fruitlessly, however, for he gained upon her, and when within a few strides of herexclaimed, 'Well, my darling!' Anne started off at a run. 

Festus was already out of breath, and soon found that he was not likelyto overtake her. On she went, without turning her head, till an unusualnoise behind compelled her to look round. His face was in the act offalling back; he swerved on one side, and dropped like a log upon aconvenient hedgerow-bank which bordered the path. There he lay quitestill. 

Anne was somewhat alarmed; and after standing at gaze for two or threeminutes, drew nearer to him, a step and a half at a time, wondering anddoubting, as a meek ewe draws near to some strolling vagabond who flingshimself on the grass near the flock. 

'He is in a swoon!' she murmured. 

Her heart beat quickly, and she looked around. Nobody was in sight; sheadvanced a step nearer still and observed him again. Apparently his facewas turning to a livid hue, and his breathing had become obstructed. 

''Tis not a swoon; 'tis apoplexy!' she said, in deep distress. 'I oughtto untie his neck. ' But she was afraid to do this, and only drew alittle closer still. 

Miss Garland was now within three feet of him, whereupon the senselessman, who could hold his breath no longer, sprang to his feet and dartedat her, saying, 'Ha! ha! a scheme for a kiss!'

She felt his arm slipping round her neck; but, twirling about withamazing dexterity, she wriggled from his embrace and ran away along thefield. The force with which she had extricated herself was sufficient tothrow Festus upon the grass, and by the time that he got upon his legsagain she was many yards off. Uttering a word which was not exactly ablessing, he immediately gave chase; and thus they ran till Anne entereda meadow divided down the middle by a brook about six feet wide. Anarrow plank was thrown loosely across at the point where the pathtraversed this stream, and when Anne reached it she at once scamperedover. At the other side she turned her head to gather the probabilitiesof the situation, which were that Festus Derriman would overtake her evennow. By a sudden forethought she stooped, seized the end of the plank, and endeavoured to drag it away from the opposite bank. But the weightwas too great for her to do more than slightly move it, and with adesperate sigh she ran on again, having lost many valuable seconds. 

But her attempt, though ineffectual in dragging it down, had been enoughto unsettle the little bridge; and when Derriman reached the middle, which he did half a minute later, the plank turned over on its edge, tilting him bodily into the river. The water was not remarkably deep, but as the yeoman fell flat on his stomach he was completely immersed;and it was some time before he could drag himself out. When he arose, dripping on the bank, and looked around, Anne had vanished from the mead. Then Festus's eyes glowed like carbuncles, and he gave voice to fearfulimprecations, shaking his fist in the soft summer air towards Anne, in away that was terrible for any maiden to behold. Wading back through thestream, he walked along its bank with a heavy tread, the water runningfrom his coat-tails, wrists, and the tips of his ears, in silverydribbles, that sparkled pleasantly in the sun. Thus he hastened away, and went round by a by-path to the hall. 

Meanwhile the author of his troubles was rapidly drawing nearer to themill, and soon, to her inexpressible delight, she saw Bob coming to meether. She had heard the flounce, and, feeling more secure from herpursuer, had dropped her pace to a quick walk. No sooner did she reachBob than, overcome by the excitement of the moment, she flung herselfinto his arms. Bob instantly enclosed her in an embrace so very thoroughthat there was no possible danger of her falling, whatever degree ofexhaustion might have given rise to her somewhat unexpected action; andin this attitude they silently remained, till it was borne in upon Annethat the present was the first time in her life that she had ever been insuch a position. Her face then burnt like a sunset, and she did not knowhow to look up at him. Feeling at length quite safe, she suddenlyresolved not to give way to her first impulse to tell him the whole ofwhat had happened, lest there should be a dreadful quarrel and fightbetween Bob and the yeoman, and great difficulties caused in the Lovedayfamily on her account, the miller having important wheat transactionswith the Derrimans. 

'You seem frightened, dearest Anne, ' said Bob tenderly. 

'Yes, ' she replied. 'I saw a man I did not like the look of, and he wasinclined to follow me. But, worse than that, I am troubled about theFrench. O Bob! I am afraid you will be killed, and my mother, and John, and your father, and all of us hunted down!'

'Now I have told you, dear little heart, that it cannot be. We shalldrive 'em into the sea after a battle or two, even if they land, which Idon't believe they will. We've got ninety sail of the line, and thoughit is rather unfortunate that we should have declared war against Spainat this ticklish time, there's enough for all. ' And Bob went intoelaborate statistics of the navy, army, militia, and volunteers, toprolong the time of holding her. When he had done speaking he drewrather a heavy sigh. 

'What's the matter, Bob?'

'I haven't been yet to offer myself as a sea-fencible, and I ought tohave done it long ago. '

'You are only one. Surely they can do without you?'

Bob shook his head. She arose from her restful position, her eyecatching his with a shamefaced expression of having given way at last. Loveday drew from his pocket a paper, and said, as they slowly walked on, 'Here's something to make us brave and patriotic. I bought it inBudmouth. Isn't it a stirring picture?'

It was a hieroglyphic profile of Napoleon. The hat represented a maimedFrench eagle; the face was ingeniously made up of human carcases, knottedand writhing together in such directions as to form a physiognomy; aband, or stock, shaped to resemble the English Channel, encircled histhroat, and seemed to choke him; his epaulette was a hand tearing acobweb that represented the treaty of peace with England; and his ear wasa woman crouching over a dying child. {225}

'It is dreadful!' said Anne. 'I don't like to see it. '

She had recovered from her emotion, and walked along beside him with agrave, subdued face. Bob did not like to assume the privileges of anaccepted lover and draw her hand through his arm; for, conscious that shenaturally belonged to a politer grade than his own, he feared lest herexhibition of tenderness were an impulse which cooler moments mightregret. A perfect Paul-and-Virginia life had not absolutely set in forhim as yet, and it was not to be hastened by force. When they had passedover the bridge into the mill-front they saw the miller standing at thedoor with a face of concern. 

'Since you have been gone, ' he said, 'a Government man has been here, andto all the houses, taking down the numbers of the women and children, andtheir ages and the number of horses and waggons that can be mustered, incase they have to retreat inland, out of the way of the invading army. '

The little family gathered themselves together, all feeling the crisismore seriously than they liked to express. Mrs. Loveday thought howridiculous a thing social ambition was in such a conjuncture as this, andvowed that she would leave Anne to love where she would. Anne, too, forgot the little peculiarities of speech and manner in Bob and hisfather, which sometimes jarred for a moment upon her more refined sense, and was thankful for their love and protection in this looming trouble. 

On going upstairs she remembered the paper which Farmer Derriman hadgiven her, and searched in her bosom for it. She could not find itthere. 'I must have left it on the table, ' she said to herself. It didnot matter; she remembered every word. She took a pen and wrote aduplicate, which she put safely away. 

But Anne was wrong. She had, after all, placed the paper where shesupposed, and there it ought to have been. But in escaping from Festus, when he feigned apoplexy, it had fallen out upon the grass. Five minutesafter that event, when pursuer and pursued were two or three fieldsahead, the gaily-dressed woman whom the yeoman had overtaken, peepedcautiously through the stile into the corner of the field which had beenthe scene of the scramble; and seeing the paper she climbed over, securedit, loosened the wafer without tearing the sheet, and read the memorandumwithin. Unable to make anything of its meaning, the saunterer put it inher pocket, and, dismissing the matter from her mind, went on by the by-path which led to the back of the mill. Here, behind the hedge, shestood and surveyed the old building for some time, after which shemeditatively turned, and retraced her steps towards the Royal watering-place. 

XXVI. THE ALARM

The night which followed was historic and memorable. Mrs. Loveday wasawakened by the boom of a distant gun: she told the miller, and theylistened awhile. The sound was not repeated, but such was the state oftheir feelings that Mr. Loveday went to Bob's room and asked if he hadheard it. Bob was wide awake, looking out of the window; he had heardthe ominous sound, and was inclined to investigate the matter. While thefather and son were dressing they fancied that a glare seemed to berising in the sky in the direction of the beacon hill. Not wishing toalarm Anne and her mother, the miller assured them that Bob and himselfwere merely going out of doors to inquire into the cause of the report, after which they plunged into the gloom together. A few steps' progressopened up more of the sky, which, as they had thought, was indeedirradiated by a lurid light; but whether it came from the beacon or froma more distant point they were unable to clearly tell. They pushed onrapidly towards higher ground. 

Their excitement was merely of a piece with that of all men at thiscritical juncture. Everywhere expectation was at fever heat. For thelast year or two only five-and-twenty miles of shallow water had dividedquiet English homesteads from an enemy's army of a hundred and fiftythousand men. We had taken the matter lightly enough, eating anddrinking as in the days of Noe, and singing satires without end. Wepunned on Buonaparte and his gunboats, chalked his effigy onstage-coaches, and published the same in prints. Still, between thesebursts of hilarity, it was sometimes recollected that England was theonly European country which had not succumbed to the mighty little manwho was less than human in feeling, and more than human in will; that ourspirit for resistance was greater than our strength; and that the Channelwas often calm. Boats built of wood which was greenly growing in itsnative forest three days before it was bent as wales to their sides, wereridiculous enough; but they might be, after all, sufficient for a singletrip between two visible shores. 

The English watched Buonaparte in these preparations, and Buonapartewatched the English. At the distance of Boulogne details were lost, butwe were impressed on fine days by the novel sight of a huge army movingand twinkling like a school of mackerel under the rays of the sun. Theregular way of passing an afternoon in the coast towns was to stroll upto the signal posts and chat with the lieutenant on duty there about thelatest inimical object seen at sea. About once a week there appeared inthe newspapers either a paragraph concerning some adventurous Englishgentleman who had sailed out in a pleasure-boat till he lay near enoughto Boulogne to see Buonaparte standing on the heights among his marshals;or else some lines about a mysterious stranger with a foreign accent, who, after collecting a vast deal of information on our resources, hadhired a boat at a southern port, and vanished with it towards Francebefore his intention could be divined. 

In forecasting his grand venture, Buonaparte postulated the help ofProvidence to a remarkable degree. Just at the hour when his troops wereon board the flat-bottomed boats and ready to sail, there was to be agreat fog, that should spread a vast obscurity over the length andbreadth of the Channel, and keep the English blind to events on the otherside. The fog was to last twenty-four hours, after which it might clearaway. A dead calm was to prevail simultaneously with the fog, with thetwofold object of affording the boats easy transit and dooming our shipsto lie motionless. Thirdly, there was to be a spring tide, which shouldcombine its manoeuvres with those of the fog and calm. 

Among the many thousands of minor Englishmen whose lives were affected bythese tremendous designs may be numbered our old acquaintance CorporalTullidge, who sported the crushed arm, and poor old Simon Burden, thedazed veteran who had fought at Minden. Instead of sitting snugly in thesettle of the Old Ship, in the village adjoining Overcombe, they wereobliged to keep watch on the hill. They made themselves as comfortableas was possible in the circumstances, dwelling in a hut of clods andturf, with a brick chimney for cooking. Here they observed the nightlyprogress of the moon and stars, grew familiar with the heaving of moles, the dancing of rabbits on the hillocks, the distant hoot of owls, thebark of foxes from woods further inland; but saw not a sign of the enemy. As, night after night, they walked round the two ricks which it was theirduty to fire at a signal--one being of furze for a quick flame, the otherof turf, for a long, slow radiance--they thought and talked of old times, and drank patriotically from a large wood flagon that was filled everyday. 

Bob and his father soon became aware that the light was from the beacon. By the time that they reached the top it was one mass of towering flame, from which the sparks fell on the green herbage like a fiery dew; theforms of the two old men being seen passing and repassing in the midst ofit. The Lovedays, who came up on the smoky side, regarded the scene fora moment, and then emerged into the light. 

'Who goes there?' said Corporal Tullidge, shouldering a pike with hissound arm. 'O, 'tis neighbour Loveday!'

'Did you get your signal to fire it from the east?' said the millerhastily. 

'No; from Abbotsea Beach. '

'But you are not to go by a coast signal!'

'Chok' it all, wasn't the Lord-Lieutenant's direction, whenever you seeRainbarrow's Beacon burn to the nor'east'ard, or Haggardon to thenor'west'ard, or the actual presence of the enemy on the shore?'

'But is he here?'

'No doubt o't! The beach light is only just gone down, and Simon heardthe guns even better than I. '

'Hark, hark! I hear 'em!' said Bob. 

They listened with parted lips, the night wind blowing through SimonBurden's few teeth as through the ruins of Stonehenge. From far down onthe lower levels came the noise of wheels and the tramp of horses uponthe turnpike road. 

'Well, there must be something in it, ' said Miller Loveday gravely. 'Bob, we'll go home and make the women-folk safe, and then I'll don mysoldier's clothes and be off. God knows where our company willassemble!'

They hastened down the hill, and on getting into the road waited andlistened again. Travellers began to come up and pass them in vehicles ofall descriptions. It was difficult to attract their attention in the dimlight, but by standing on the top of a wall which fenced the road Bob wasat last seen. 

'What's the matter?' he cried to a butcher who was flying past in hiscart, his wife sitting behind him without a bonnet. 

'The French have landed!' said the man, without drawing rein. 

'Where?' shouted Bob. 

'In West Bay; and all Budmouth is in uproar!' replied the voice, nowfaint in the distance. 

Bob and his father hastened on till they reached their own house. Asthey had expected, Anne and her mother, in common with most of thepeople, were both dressed, and stood at the door bonneted and shawled, listening to the traffic on the neighbouring highway, Mrs. Loveday havingsecured what money and small valuables they possessed in a huge pocketwhich extended all round her waist, and added considerably to her weightand diameter. 

''Tis true enough, ' said the miller: 'he's come! You and Anne and themaid must be off to Cousin Jim's at King's-Bere, and when you get thereyou must do as they do. I must assemble with the company. '

'And I?' said Bob. 

'Thou'st better run to the church, and take a pike before they be allgone. '

The horse was put into the gig, and Mrs. Loveday, Anne, and the servant-maid were hastily packed into the vehicle, the latter taking the reins;David's duties as a fighting-man forbidding all thought of his domesticoffices now. Then the silver tankard, teapot, pair of candlesticks likeIonic columns, and other articles too large to be pocketed were throwninto a basket and put up behind. Then came the leave-taking, which wasas sad as it was hurried. Bob kissed Anne, and there was no affectationin her receiving that mark of affection as she said through her tears, 'God bless you!' At last they moved off in the dim light of dawn, neither of the three women knowing which road they were to take, buttrusting to chance to find it. 

As soon as they were out of sight Bob went off for a pike, and hisfather, first new-flinting his firelock, proceeded to don his uniform, pipe-claying his breeches with such cursory haste as to bespatter hisblack gaiters with the same ornamental compound. Finding when he wasready that no bugle had as yet sounded, he went with David to the cart-house, dragged out the waggon, and put therein some of the most usefuland easily-handled goods, in case there might be an opportunity forconveying them away. By the time this was done and the waggon pushedback and locked in, Bob had returned with his weapon, somewhat mortifiedat being doomed to this low form of defence. The miller gave his son aparting grasp of the hand, and arranged to meet him at King's-Bere at thefirst opportunity if the news were true; if happily false, here at theirown house. 

'Bother it all!' he exclaimed, looking at his stock of flints. 

'What?' said Bob. 

'I've got no ammunition: not a blessed round!'

'Then what's the use of going?' asked his son. 

The miller paused. 'O, I'll go, ' he said. 'Perhaps somebody will lendme a little if I get into a hot corner?'

'Lend ye a little! Father, you was always so simple!' said Bobreproachfully. 

'Well--I can bagnet a few, anyhow, ' said the miller. 

The bugle had been blown ere this, and Loveday the father disappearedtowards the place of assembly, his empty cartridge-box behind him. Bobseized a brace of loaded pistols which he had brought home from the ship, and, armed with these and a pike, he locked the door and sallied outagain towards the turnpike road. 

By this time the yeomanry of the district were also on the move, andamong them Festus Derriman, who was sleeping at his uncle's, and had beenawakened by Cripplestraw. About the time when Bob and his father weredescending from the beacon the stalwart yeoman was standing in the stable-yard adjusting his straps, while Cripplestraw saddled the horse. Festusclanked up and down, looked gloomily at the beacon, heard the retreatingcarts and carriages, and called Cripplestraw to him, who came from thestable leading the horse at the same moment that Uncle Benjy peepedunobserved from a mullioned window above their heads, the distant lightof the beacon fire touching up his features to the complexion of an oldbrass clock-face. 

'I think that before I start, Cripplestraw, ' said Festus, whose luridvisage was undergoing a bleaching process curious to look upon, 'youshall go on to Budmouth, and make a bold inquiry whether the cowardlyenemy is on shore as yet, or only looming in the bay. '

'I'd go in a moment, sir, ' said the other, 'if I hadn't my bad leg again. I should have joined my company afore this; but they said at last drillthat I was too old. So I shall wait up in the hay-loft for tidings assoon as I have packed you off, poor gentleman!'

'Do such alarms as these, Cripplestraw, ever happen without foundation?Buonaparte is a wretch, a miserable wretch, and this may be only a falsealarm to disappoint such as me?'

'O no, sir; O no!'

'But sometimes there are false alarms?'

'Well, sir, yes. There was a pretended sally o' gunboats last year. '

'And was there nothing else pretended--something more like this, forinstance?'

Cripplestraw shook his head. 'I notice yer modesty, Mr. Festus, inmaking light of things. But there never was, sir. You may depend uponit he's come. Thank God, my duty as a Local don't require me to go tothe front, but only the valiant men like my master. Ah, if Boney couldonly see 'ee now, sir, he'd know too well there is nothing to be got fromsuch a determined skilful officer but blows and musket-balls!'

'Yes, yes. Cripplestraw, if I ride off to Budmouth and meet 'em, all mytraining will be lost. No skill is required as a forlorn hope. '

'True; that's a point, sir. You would outshine 'em all, and be pickedoff at the very beginning as a too-dangerous brave man. '

'But if I stay here and urge on the faint-hearted ones, or get up intothe turret-stair by that gateway, and pop at the invaders through theloophole, I shouldn't be so completely wasted, should I?'

'You would not, Mr. Derriman. But, as you was going to say next, thefire in yer veins won't let ye do that. You are valiant; very good: youdon't want to husband yer valiance at home. The arg'ment is plain. '

'If my birth had been more obscure, ' murmured the yeoman, 'and I had onlybeen in the militia, for instance, or among the humble pikemen, so muchwouldn't have been expected of me--of my fiery nature. Cripplestraw, isthere a drop of brandy to be got at in the house? I don't feel verywell. '

'Dear nephew, ' said the old gentleman from above, whom neither of theothers had as yet noticed, 'I haven't any spirits opened--so unfortunate!But there's a beautiful barrel of crab-apple cider in draught; andthere's some cold tea from last night. '

'What, is he listening?' said Festus, staring up. 'Now I warrant howglad he is to see me forced to go--called out of bed without breakfast, and he quite safe, and sure to escape because he's an oldman!--Cripplestraw, I like being in the yeomanry cavalry; but I wish Ihadn't been in the ranks; I wish I had been only the surgeon, to stay inthe rear while the bodies are brought back to him--I mean, I should havethrown my heart at such a time as this more into the labour of restoringwounded men and joining their shattered limbs together--u-u-ugh!--morethan I can into causing the wounds--I am too humane, Cripplestraw, forthe ranks!'

'Yes, yes, ' said his companion, depressing his spirits to a kindredlevel. 'And yet, such is fate, that, instead of joining men's limbstogether, you'll have to get your own joined--poor young sojer!--allthrough having such a warlike soul. '

'Yes, ' murmured Festus, and paused. 'You can't think how strange I feelhere, Cripplestraw, ' he continued, laying his hand upon the centrebuttons of his waistcoat. 'How I do wish I was only the surgeon!'

He slowly mounted, and Uncle Benjy, in the meantime, sang to himself ashe looked on, '_Twen-ty-three and half from N. W. _ _Six-teen and three-quar-ters from N. E. _'

'What's that old mummy singing?' said Festus savagely. 

'Only a hymn for preservation from our enemies, dear nephew, ' meeklyreplied the farmer, who had heard the remark. '_Twen-ty-three and halffrom N. W_. '

Festus allowed his horse to move on a few paces, and then turned again, as if struck by a happy invention. 'Cripplestraw, ' he began, with anartificial laugh, 'I am obliged to confess, after all--I must see her!'Tisn't nature that makes me draw back--'tis love. I must go and lookfor her. '

'A woman, sir?'

'I didn't want to confess it; but 'tis a woman. Strange that I should bedrawn so entirely against my natural wish to rush at 'em!'

Cripplestraw, seeing which way the wind blew, found it advisable to blowin harmony. 'Ah, now at last I see, sir! Spite that few men live thatbe worthy to command ye; spite that you could rush on, marshal the troopsto victory, as I may say; but then--what of it? there's the unhappy fateof being smit with the eyes of a woman, and you are unmanned! MaisterDerriman, who is himself, when he's got a woman round his neck like amillstone?'

'It is something like that. '

'I feel the case. Be you valiant?--I know, of course, the words being amatter of form--be you valiant, I ask? Yes, of course. Then don't youwaste it in the open field. Hoard it up, I say, sir, for a higher classof war--the defence of yer adorable lady. Think what you owe her at thisterrible time! Now, Maister Derriman, once more I ask ye to cast offthat first haughty wish to rush to Budmouth, and to go where your mis'essis defenceless and alone. '

'I will, Cripplestraw, now you put it like that!'

'Thank ye, thank ye heartily, Maister Derriman. Go now and hide withher. '

'But can I? Now, hang flattery!--can a man hide without a stain? Ofcourse I would not hide in any mean sense; no, not I!'

'If you be in love, 'tis plain you may, since it is not your own life, but another's, that you are concerned for, and you only save your ownbecause it can't be helped. '

''Tis true, Cripplestraw, in a sense. But will it be understood thatway? Will they see it as a brave hiding?'

'Now, sir, if you had not been in love I own to ye that hiding would lookqueer, but being to save the tears, groans, fits, swowndings, and perhapsdeath of a comely young woman, yer principle is good; you honourablyretreat because you be too gallant to advance. This sounds strange, yemay say, sir; but it is plain enough to less fiery minds. '

Festus did for a moment try to uncover his teeth in a natural smile, butit died away. 'Cripplestraw, you flatter me; or do you mean it? Well, there's truth in it. I am more gallant in going to her than in marchingto the shore. But we cannot be too careful about our good names, wesoldiers. I must not be seen. I'm off. '

Cripplestraw opened the hurdle which closed the arch under the porticogateway, and Festus passed under, Uncle Benjamin singing, _Twen-ty-threeand a half from N. W. _ with a sort of sublime ecstasy, feeling, as Festushad observed, that his money was safe, and that the French would notpersonally molest an old man in such a ragged, mildewed coat as that hewore, which he had taken the precaution to borrow from a scarecrow in oneof his fields for the purpose. 

Festus rode on full of his intention to seek out Anne, and under cover ofprotecting her retreat accompany her to King's-Bere, where he knew theLovedays had relatives. In the lane he met Granny Seamore, who, havingpacked up all her possessions in a small basket, was placidly retreatingto the mountains till all should be over. 

'Well, granny, have ye seen the French?' asked Festus. 

'No, ' she said, looking up at him through her brazen spectacles. 'If Ihad I shouldn't ha' seed thee!'

'Faugh!' replied the yeoman, and rode on. Just as he reached the oldroad, which he had intended merely to cross and avoid, his countenancefell. Some troops of regulars, who appeared to be dragoons, wererattling along the road. Festus hastened towards an opposite gate, so asto get within the field before they should see him; but, as ill-luckwould have it, as soon as he got inside, a party of six or seven of hisown yeomanry troop were straggling across the same field and making forthe spot where he was. The dragoons passed without seeing him; but whenhe turned out into the road again it was impossible to retreat towardsOvercombe village because of the yeomen. So he rode straight on, andheard them coming at his heels. There was no other gate, and the highwaysoon became as straight as a bowstring. Unable thus to turn withoutmeeting them, and caught like an eel in a water-pipe, Festus drew nearerand nearer to the fateful shore. But he did not relinquish hope. Justahead there were cross-roads, and he might have a chance of slipping downone of them without being seen. On reaching the spot he found that hewas not alone. A horseman had come up the right-hand lane and drawnrein. It was an officer of the German legion, and seeing Festus he heldup his hand. Festus rode up to him and saluted. 

'It ist false report!' said the officer. 

Festus was a man again. He felt that nothing was too much for him. Theofficer, after some explanation of the cause of alarm, said that he wasgoing across to the road which led by the moor, to stop the troops andvolunteers converging from that direction, upon which Festus offered togive information along the Casterbridge road. The German crossed over, and was soon out of sight in the lane, while Festus turned back upon theway by which he had come. The party of yeomanry cavalry was rapidlydrawing near, and he soon recognized among them the excited voices ofStubb of Duddle Hole, Noakes of Muckleford, and other comrades of hisorgies at the hall. It was a magnificent opportunity, and Festus drewhis sword. When they were within speaking distance he reined round hischarger's head to Budmouth and shouted, 'On, comrades, on! I am waitingfor you. You have been a long time getting up with me, seeing theglorious nature of our deeds to-day!'

'Well said, Derriman, well said!' replied the foremost of the riders. 'Have you heard anything new?'

'Only that he's here with his tens of thousands, and that we are to rideto meet him sword in hand as soon as we have assembled in the town aheadhere. '

'O Lord!' said Noakes, with a slight falling of the lower jaw. 

'The man who quails now is unworthy of the name of yeoman, ' said Festus, still keeping ahead of the other troopers and holding up his sword to thesun. 'O Noakes, fie, fie! You begin to look pale, man. '

'Faith, perhaps you'd look pale, ' said Noakes, with an envious glanceupon Festus's daring manner, 'if you had a wife and family depending uponye!'

'I'll take three frog-eating Frenchmen single-handed!' rejoined Derriman, still flourishing his sword. 

'They have as good swords as you; as you will soon find, ' said another ofthe yeomen. 

'If they were three times armed, ' said Festus--'ay, thrice three times--Iwould attempt 'em three to one. How do you feel now, my old friendStubb?' (turning to another of the warriors. ) 'O, friend Stubb! nobouncing health to our lady-loves in Oxwell Hall this summer as last. Eh, Brownjohn?'

'I am afraid not, ' said Brownjohn gloomily. 

'No rattling dinners at Stacie's Hotel, and the King below with hisstaff. No wrenching off door-knockers and sending 'em to the bakehousein a pie that nobody calls for. Weeks of cut-and-thrust work rather!'

'I suppose so. '

'Fight how we may we shan't get rid of the cursed tyrant before autumn, and many thousand brave men will lie low before it's done, ' remarked ayoung yeoman with a calm face, who meant to do his duty without muchtalking. 

'No grinning matches at Mai-dun Castle this summer, ' Festus resumed; 'nothread-the-needle at Greenhill Fair, and going into shows and driving theshowman crazy with cock-a-doodle-doo!'

'I suppose not. '

'Does it make you seem just a trifle uncomfortable, Noakes? Keep up yourspirits, old comrade. Come, forward! we are only ambling on like so manydonkey-women. We have to get into Budmouth, join the rest of the troop, and then march along the coast west'ard, as I imagine. At this rate weshan't be well into the thick of battle before twelve o'clock. Spur on, comrades. No dancing on the green, Lockham, this year in the moonlight!You was tender upon that girl; gad, what will become o' her in thestruggle?'

'Come, come, Derriman, ' expostulated Lockham--'this is all very well, butI don't care for 't. I am as ready to fight as any man, but--'

'Perhaps when you get into battle, Derriman, and see what it's like, yourcourage will cool down a little, ' added Noakes on the same side, but withsecret admiration of Festus's reckless bravery. 

'I shall be bayoneted first, ' said Festus. 'Now let's rally, and on!'

Since Festus was determined to spur on wildly, the rest of the yeomen didnot like to seem behindhand, and they rapidly approached the town. Hadthey been calm enough to reflect, they might have observed that for thelast half-hour no carts or carriages had met them on the way, as they haddone further back. It was not till the troopers reached the turnpikethat they learnt what Festus had known a quarter of an hour before. Atthe intelligence Derriman sheathed his sword with a sigh; and the partysoon fell in with comrades who had arrived there before them, whereuponthe source and details of the alarm were boisterously discussed. 

'What, didn't you know of the mistake till now?' asked one of these ofthe new-comers. 'Why, when I was dropping over the hill by the cross-roads I looked back and saw that man talking to the messenger, and hemust have told him the truth. ' The speaker pointed to Festus. Theyturned their indignant eyes full upon him. That he had sported withtheir deepest feelings, while knowing the rumour to be baseless, was soonapparent to all. 

'Beat him black and blue with the flat of our blades!' shouted two orthree, turning their horses' heads to drop back upon Derriman, in whichmove they were followed by most of the party. 

But Festus, foreseeing danger from the unexpected revelation, had alreadyjudiciously placed a few intervening yards between himself and his fellow-yeomen, and now, clapping spurs to his horse, rattled like thunder andlightning up the road homeward. His ready flight added hotness to theirpursuit, and as he rode and looked fearfully over his shoulder he couldsee them following with enraged faces and drawn swords, a position whichthey kept up for a distance of more than a mile. Then he had thesatisfaction of seeing them drop off one by one, and soon he and hispanting charger remained alone on the highway. 

XXVII. DANGER TO ANNE

He stopped and reflected how to turn this rebuff to advantage. Baulkedin his project of entering the watering-place and enjoyingcongratulations upon his patriotic bearing during the advance, he sulkilyconsidered that he might be able to make some use of his enforcedretirement by riding to Overcombe and glorifying himself in the eyes ofMiss Garland before the truth should have reached that hamlet. Havingthus decided he spurred on in a better mood. 

By this time the volunteers were on the march, and as Derriman ascendedthe road he met the Overcombe company, in which trudged Miller Lovedayshoulder to shoulder with the other substantial householders of the placeand its neighbourhood, duly equipped with pouches, cross-belts, firelocks, flint-boxes, pickers, worms, magazines, priming-horns, heel-ball, and pomatum. There was nothing to be gained by further suppressionof the truth, and briefly informing them that the danger was not soimmediate as had been supposed, Festus galloped on. At the end ofanother mile he met a large number of pikemen, including Bob Loveday, whom the yeoman resolved to sound upon the whereabouts of Anne. Thecircumstances were such as to lead Bob to speak more frankly than hemight have done on reflection, and he told Festus the direction in whichthe women had been sent. Then Festus informed the group that the reportof invasion was false, upon which they all turned to go homeward withgreatly relieved spirits. 

Bob walked beside Derriman's horse for some distance. Loveday hadinstantly made up his mind to go and look for the women, and ease theiranxiety by letting them know the good news as soon as possible. But hesaid nothing of this to Festus during their return together; nor didFestus tell Bob that he also had resolved to seek them out, and byanticipating every one else in that enterprise, make of it a gloriousopportunity for bringing Miss Garland to her senses about him. He stillresented the ducking that he had received at her hands, and was notdisposed to let that insult pass without obtaining some sort of sweetrevenge. 

As soon as they had parted Festus cantered on over the hill, meeting onhis way the Longpuddle volunteers, sixty rank and file, under CaptainCunningham; the Casterbridge company, ninety strong (known as the'Consideration Company' in those days), under Captain Strickland; andothers--all with anxious faces and covered with dust. Just passing theword to them and leaving them at halt, he proceeded rapidly onward in thedirection of King's-Bere. Nobody appeared on the road for some time, till after a ride of several miles he met a stray corporal of volunteers, who told Festus in answer to his inquiry that he had certainly passed nogig full of women of the kind described. Believing that he had missedthem by following the highway, Derriman turned back into a lane alongwhich they might have chosen to journey for privacy's sake, notwithstanding the badness and uncertainty of its track. Arriving againwithin five miles of Overcombe, he at length heard tidings of thewandering vehicle and its precious burden, which, like the Ark when sentaway from the country of the Philistines, had apparently been left to theinstincts of the beast that drew it. A labouring man, just at daybreak, had seen the helpless party going slowly up a distant drive, which hepointed out. 

No sooner had Festus parted from this informant than he beheld Bobapproaching, mounted on the miller's second and heavier horse. Boblooked rather surprised, and Festus felt his coming glory in danger. 

'They went down that lane, ' he said, signifying precisely the oppositedirection to the true one. 'I, too, have been on the look-out formissing friends. '

As Festus was riding back there was no reason to doubt his information, and Loveday rode on as misdirected. Immediately that he was out of sightFestus reversed his course, and followed the track which Anne and hercompanions were last seen to pursue. 

This road had been ascended by the gig in question nearly two hoursbefore the present moment. Molly, the servant, held the reins, Mrs. Loveday sat beside her, and Anne behind. Their progress was but slow, owing partly to Molly's want of skill, and partly to the steepness of theroad, which here passed over downs of some extent, and was rarely ornever mended. It was an anxious morning for them all, and the beautiesof the early summer day fell upon unheeding eyes. They were too anxiouseven for conjecture, and each sat thinking her own thoughts, occasionallyglancing westward, or stopping the horse to listen to sounds from morefrequented roads along which other parties were retreating. Once, whilethey listened and gazed thus, they saw a glittering in the distance, andheard the tramp of many horses. It was a large body of cavalry going inthe direction of the King's watering-place, the same regiment ofdragoons, in fact, which Festus had seen further on in its course. Thewomen in the gig had no doubt that these men were marching at once toengage the enemy. By way of varying the monotony of the journey Mollyoccasionally burst into tears of horror, believing Buonaparte to be incountenance and habits precisely what the caricatures represented him. Mrs. Loveday endeavoured to establish cheerfulness by assuring hercompanions of the natural civility of the French nation, with whomunprotected women were safe from injury, unless through the casualexcesses of soldiery beyond control. This was poor consolation to Anne, whose mind was more occupied with Bob than with herself, and a miserablefear that she would never again see him alive so paled her face andsaddened her gaze forward, that at last her mother said, 'Who was youthinking of, my dear?' Anne's only reply was a look at her mother, withwhich a tear mingled. 

Molly whipped the horse, by which she quickened his pace for five yards, when he again fell into the perverse slowness that showed how fullyconscious he was of being the master-mind and chief personage of thefour. Whenever there was a pool of water by the road he turned aside todrink a mouthful, and remained there his own time in spite of Molly's tugat the reins and futile fly-flapping on his rump. They were now in thechalk district, where there were no hedges, and a rough attempt atmending the way had been made by throwing down huge lumps of that glaringmaterial in heaps, without troubling to spread it or break them abroad. The jolting here was most distressing, and seemed about to snap thesprings. 

'How that wheel do wamble, ' said Molly at last. She had scarcely spokenwhen the wheel came off, and all three were precipitated over it into theroad. 

Fortunately the horse stood still, and they began to gather themselvesup. The only one of the three who had suffered in the least from thefall was Anne, and she was only conscious of a severe shaking which hadhalf stupefied her for the time. The wheel lay flat in the road, so thatthere was no possibility of driving further in their present plight. Theylooked around for help. The only friendly object near was a lonelycottage, from its situation evidently the home of a shepherd. 

The horse was unharnessed and tied to the back of the gig, and the threewomen went across to the house. On getting close they found that theshutters of all the lower windows were closed, but on trying the door itopened to the hand. Nobody was within; the house appeared to have beenabandoned in some confusion, and the probability was that the shepherdhad fled on hearing the alarm. Anne now said that she felt the effectsof her fall too severely to be able to go any further just then, and itwas agreed that she should be left there while Mrs. Loveday and Mollywent on for assistance, the elder lady deeming Molly too young and vacant-minded to be trusted to go alone. Molly suggested taking the horse, asthe distance might be great, each of them sitting alternately on his backwhile the other led him by the head. This they did, Anne watching themvanish down the white and lumpy road. 

She then looked round the room, as well as she could do so by the lightfrom the open door. It was plain, from the shutters being closed, thatthe shepherd had left his house before daylight, the candle andextinguisher on the table pointing to the same conclusion. Here sheremained, her eyes occasionally sweeping the bare, sunny expanse of down, that was only relieved from absolute emptiness by the overturned gig hardby. The sheep seemed to have gone away, and scarcely a bird flew acrossto disturb the solitude. Anne had risen early that morning, and leaningback in the withy chair, which she had placed by the door, she soon fellinto an uneasy doze, from which she was awakened by the distant tramp ofa horse. Feeling much recovered from the effects of the overturn, sheeagerly rose and looked out. The horse was not Miller Loveday's, but apowerful bay, bearing a man in full yeomanry uniform. 

Anne did not wait to recognize further; instantly re-entering the house, she shut the door and bolted it. In the dark she sat and listened: not asound. At the end of ten minutes, thinking that the rider if he were notFestus had carelessly passed by, or that if he were Festus he had notseen her, she crept softly upstairs and peeped out of the window. Excepting the spot of shade, formed by the gig as before, the down wasquite bare. She then opened the casement and stretched out her neck. 

'Ha, young madam! There you are! I knew 'ee! Now you are caught!' camelike a clap of thunder from a point three or four feet beneath her, andturning down her frightened eyes she beheld Festus Derriman lurking closeto the wall. His attention had first been attracted by her shutting thedoor of the cottage; then by the overturned gig; and after making sure, by examining the vehicle, that he was not mistaken in her identity, hehad dismounted, led his horse round to the side, and crept up to entrapher. 

Anne started back into the room, and remained still as a stone. Festuswent on--'Come, you must trust to me. The French have landed. I havebeen trying to meet with you every hour since that confounded trick youplayed me. You threw me into the water. Faith, it was well for you Ididn't catch ye then! I should have taken a revenge in a better way thanI shall now. I mean to have that kiss of ye. Come, Miss Nancy; do youhear?--'Tis no use for you to lurk inside there. You'll have to turn outas soon as Boney comes over the hill--Are you going to open the door, Isay, and speak to me in a civil way? What do you think I am, then, thatyou should barricade yourself against me as if I was a wild beast orFrenchman? Open the door, or put out your head, or do something; or 'ponmy soul I'll break in the door!'

It occurred to Anne at this point of the tirade that the best policywould be to temporize till somebody should return, and she put out herhead and face, now grown somewhat pale. 

'That's better, ' said Festus. 'Now I can talk to you. Come, my dear, will you open the door? Why should you be afraid of me?'

'I am not altogether afraid of you; I am safe from the French here, ' saidAnne, not very truthfully, and anxiously casting her eyes over the vacantdown. 

'Then let me tell you that the alarm is false, and that no landing hasbeen attempted. Now will you open the door and let me in? I am tired. Ihave been on horseback ever since daylight, and have come to bring youthe good tidings. '

Anne looked as if she doubted the news. 

'Come, ' said Festus. 

'No, I cannot let you in, ' she murmured, after a pause. 

'Dash my wig, then, ' he cried, his face flaming up, 'I'll find a way toget in! Now, don't you provoke me! You don't know what I am capable of. I ask you again, will you open the door?'

'Why do you wish it?' she said faintly. 

'I have told you I want to sit down; and I want to ask you a question. '

'You can ask me from where you are. '

'I cannot ask you properly. It is about a serious matter: whether youwill accept my heart and hand. I am not going to throw myself at yourfeet; but I ask you to do your duty as a woman, namely, give your solemnword to take my name as soon as the war is over and I have time to attendto you. I scorn to ask it of a haughty hussy who will only speak to methrough a window; however, I put it to you for the last time, madam. '

There was no sign on the down of anybody's return, and she said, 'I'llthink of it, sir. '

'You have thought of it long enough; I want to know. Will you or won'tyou?'

'Very well; I think I will. ' And then she felt that she might be buyingpersonal safety too dearly by shuffling thus, since he would spread thereport that she had accepted him, and cause endless complication. 'No, 'she said, 'I have changed my mind. I cannot accept you, Mr. Derriman. '

'That's how you play with me!' he exclaimed, stamping. '"Yes, " onemoment; "No, " the next. Come, you don't know what you refuse. That oldhall is my uncle's own, and he has nobody else to leave it to. As soonas he's dead I shall throw up farming and start as a squire. And now, 'he added with a bitter sneer, 'what a fool you are to hang back from sucha chance!'

'Thank you, I don't value it, ' said Anne. 

'Because you hate him who would make it yours?'

'It may not lie in your power to do that. '

'What--has the old fellow been telling you his affairs?'

'No. '

'Then why do you mistrust me? Now, after this will you open the door, and show that you treat me as a friend if you won't accept me as a lover?I only want to sit and talk to you. '

Anne thought she would trust him; it seemed almost impossible that hecould harm her. She retired from the window and went downstairs. Whenher hand was upon the bolt of the door, her mind misgave her. Instead ofwithdrawing it she remained in silence where she was, and he began again--

'Are you going to unfasten it?'

Anne did not speak. 

'Now, dash my wig, I will get at you! You've tried me beyond endurance. One kiss would have been enough that day in the mead; now I'll haveforty, whether you will or no!'

He flung himself against the door; but as it was bolted, and had inaddition a great wooden bar across it, this produced no effect. He wassilent for a moment, and then the terrified girl heard him attempt theshuttered window. She ran upstairs and again scanned the down. Theyellow gig still lay in the blazing sunshine, and the horse of Festusstood by the corner of the garden--nothing else was to be seen. At thismoment there came to her ear the noise of a sword drawn from itsscabbard; and, peeping over the window-sill, she saw her tormentor drivehis sword between the joints of the shutters, in an attempt to rip themopen. The sword snapped off in his hand. With an imprecation he pulledout the piece, and returned the two halves to the scabbard. 

'Ha! ha!' he cried, catching sight of the top of her head. ''Tis only ajoke, you know; but I'll get in all the same. All for a kiss! But nevermind, we'll do it yet!' He spoke in an affectedly light tone, as ifashamed of his previous resentful temper; but she could see by the lividback of his neck that he was brimful of suppressed passion. 'Only ajest, you know, ' he went on. 'How are we going to do it now? Why, inthis way. I go and get a ladder, and enter at the upper window where mylove is. And there's the ladder lying under that corn-rick in the firstenclosed field. Back in two minutes, dear!'

He ran off, and was lost to her view. 

XXVIII. ANNE DOES WONDERS

Anne fearfully surveyed her position. The upper windows of the cottagewere of flimsiest lead-work, and to keep him out would be hopeless. Shefelt that not a moment was to be lost in getting away. Runningdownstairs she opened the door, and then it occurred to her terrifiedunderstanding that there would be no chance of escaping him by flightafoot across such an extensive down, since he might mount his horse andeasily ride after her. The animal still remained tethered at the cornerof the garden; if she could release him and frighten him away beforeFestus returned, there would not be quite such odds against her. Sheaccordingly unhooked the horse by reaching over the bank, and then, pulling off her muslin neckerchief, flapped it in his eyes to startlehim. But the gallant steed did not move or flinch; she tried again, andhe seemed rather pleased than otherwise. At this moment she heard a cryfrom the cottage, and turning, beheld her adversary approaching round thecorner of the building. 

'I thought I should tole out the mouse by that trick!' cried Festusexultingly. Instead of going for a ladder, he had simply hidden himselfat the back to tempt her down. 

Poor Anne was now desperate. The bank on which she stood was level withthe horse's back, and the creature seemed quiet as a lamb. With adetermination of which she was capable in emergencies, she seized therein, flung herself upon the sheepskin, and held on by the mane. Theamazed charger lifted his head, sniffed, wrenched his ears hither andthither, and started off at a frightful speed across the down. 

'O, my heart and limbs!' said Festus under his breath, as, thoroughlyalarmed, he gazed after her. 'She on Champion! She'll break her neck, and I shall be tried for manslaughter, and disgrace will be brought uponthe name of Derriman!'

Champion continued to go at a stretch-gallop, but he did nothing worse. Had he plunged or reared, Derriman's fears might have been verified, andAnne have come with deadly force to the ground. But the course was good, and in the horse's speed lay a comparative security. She was scarcelyshaken in her precarious half-horizontal position, though she was awed tosee the grass, loose stones, and other objects pass her eyes like strokeswhenever she opened them, which was only just for a second at intervalsof half a minute; and to feel how wildly the stirrups swung, and thatwhat struck her knee was the bucket of the carbine, and that it was apistol-holster which hurt her arm. 

They quickly cleared the down, and Anne became conscious that the courseof the horse was homeward. As soon as the ground began to rise towardsthe outer belt of upland which lay between her and the coast, Champion, now panting and reeking with moisture, lessened his speed in sheerweariness, and proceeded at a rapid jolting trot. Anne felt that shecould not hold on half so well; the gallop had been child's play comparedwith this. They were in a lane, ascending to a ridge, and she made upher mind for a fall. Over the ridge rose an animated spot, higher andhigher; it turned out to be the upper part of a man, and the man to be asoldier. Such was Anne's attitude that she only got an occasionalglimpse of him; and, though she feared that he might be a Frenchman, shefeared the horse more than the enemy, as she had feared Festus more thanthe horse. Anne had energy enough left to cry, 'Stop him; stop him!' asthe soldier drew near. 

He, astonished at the sight of a military horse with a bundle of draperyacross his back, had already placed himself in the middle of the lane, and he now held out his arms till his figure assumed the form of a Latincross planted in the roadway. Champion drew near, swerved, and stoodstill almost suddenly, a check sufficient to send Anne slipping down hisflank to the ground. The timely friend stepped forward and helped her toher feet, when she saw that he was John Loveday. 

'Are you hurt?' he said hastily, having turned quite pale at seeing herfall. 

'O no; not a bit, ' said Anne, gathering herself up with forced briskness, to make light of the misadventure. 

'But how did you get in such a place?'

'There, he's gone!' she exclaimed, instead of replying, as Champion sweptround John Loveday and cantered off triumphantly in the direction ofOxwell, a performance which she followed with her eyes. 

'But how did you come upon his back, and whose horse is it?'

'I will tell you. '

'Well?'

'I--cannot tell you. '

John looked steadily at her, saying nothing. 

'How did you come here?' she asked. 'Is it true that the French have notlanded at all?'

'Quite true; the alarm was groundless. I'll tell you all about it. Youlook very tired. You had better sit down a few minutes. Let us sit onthis bank. '

He helped her to the slope indicated, and continued, still as if histhoughts were more occupied with the mystery of her recent situation thanwith what he was saying: 'We arrived at Budmouth Barracks this morning, and are to lie there all the summer. I could not write to tell father wewere coming. It was not because of any rumour of the French, for we knewnothing of that till we met the people on the road, and the colonel saidin a moment the news was false. Buonaparte is not even at Boulogne justnow. I was anxious to know how you had borne the fright, so I hastenedto Overcombe at once, as soon as I could get out of barracks. '

Anne, who had not been at all responsive to his discourse, now swayedheavily against him, and looking quickly down he found that she hadsilently fainted. To support her in his arms was of course the impulseof a moment. There was no water to be had, and he could think of nothingelse but to hold her tenderly till she came round again. Certainly hedesired nothing more. 

Again he asked himself, what did it all mean?

He waited, looking down upon her tired eyelids, and at the row of lasheslying upon each cheek, whose natural roundness showed itself in singularperfection now that the customary pink had given place to a paleluminousness caught from the surrounding atmosphere. The dumpy ringletsabout her forehead and behind her poll, which were usually as tight assprings, had been partially uncoiled by the wildness of her ride, andhung in split locks over her forehead and neck. John, who, during thelong months of his absence, had lived only to meet her again, was in astate of ecstatic reverence, and bending down he gently kissed her. 

Anne was just becoming conscious. 

'O, Mr. Derriman, never, never!' she murmured, sweeping her face with herhand. 

'I thought he was at the bottom of it, ' said John. 

Anne opened her eyes, and started back from him. 'What is it?' she saidwildly. 

'You are ill, my dear Miss Garland, ' replied John in trembling anxiety, and taking her hand. 

'I am not ill, I am wearied out!' she said. 'Can't we walk on? How farare we from Overcombe?'

'About a mile. But tell me, somebody has been hurting you--frighteningyou. I know who it was; it was Derriman, and that was his horse. Now doyou tell me all. '

Anne reflected. 'Then if I tell you, ' she said, 'will you discuss withme what I had better do, and not for the present let my mother and yourfather know? I don't want to alarm them, and I must not let my affairsinterrupt the business connexion between the mill and the hall that hasgone on for so many years. '

The trumpet-major promised, and Anne told the adventure. His browreddened as she went on, and when she had done she said, 'Now you areangry. Don't do anything dreadful, will you? Remember that this Festuswill most likely succeed his uncle at Oxwell, in spite of presentappearances, and if Bob succeeds at the mill there should be no enmitybetween them. '

'That's true. I won't tell Bob. Leave him to me. Where is Derrimannow? On his way home, I suppose. When I have seen you into the house Iwill deal with him--quite quietly, so that he shall say nothing aboutit. '

'Yes, appeal to him, do! Perhaps he will be better then. '

They walked on together, Loveday seeming to experience much quiet bliss. 

'I came to look for you, ' he said, 'because of that dear, sweet letteryou wrote. '

'Yes, I did write you a letter, ' she admitted, with misgiving, nowbeginning to see her mistake. 'It was because I was sorry I had blamedyou. '

'I am almost glad you did blame me, ' said John cheerfully, 'since, if youhad not, the letter would not have come. I have read it fifty times aday. '

This put Anne into an unhappy mood, and they proceeded without muchfurther talk till the mill chimneys were visible below them. John thensaid that he would leave her to go in by herself. 

'Ah, you are going back to get into some danger on my account?'

'I can't get into much danger with such a fellow as he, can I?' saidJohn, smiling. 

'Well, no, ' she answered, with a sudden carelessness of tone. It wasindispensable that he should be undeceived, and to begin the process bytaking an affectedly light view of his personal risks was perhaps as gooda way to do it as any. Where friendliness was construed as love, anassumed indifference was the necessary expression for friendliness. 

So she let him go; and, bidding him hasten back as soon as he could, wentdown the hill, while John's feet retraced the upland. 

The trumpet-major spent the whole afternoon and evening in that long anddifficult search for Festus Derriman. Crossing the down at the end ofthe second hour he met Molly and Mrs. Loveday. The gig had beenrepaired, they had learnt the groundlessness of the alarm, and they wouldhave been proceeding happily enough but for their anxiety about Anne. John told them shortly that she had got a lift home, and proceeded on hisway. 

The worthy object of his search had in the meantime been ploddinghomeward on foot, sulky at the loss of his charger, encumbered with hissword, belts, high boots, and uniform, and in his own discomfiturecareless whether Anne Garland's life had been endangered or not. 

At length Derriman reached a place where the road ran between high banks, one of which he mounted and paced along as a change from the hardtrackway. Ahead of him he saw an old man sitting down, with eyes fixedon the dust of the road, as if resting and meditating at one and the sametime. Being pretty sure that he recognized his uncle in that venerablefigure, Festus came forward stealthily, till he was immediately above theold man's back. The latter was clothed in faded nankeen breeches, speckled stockings, a drab hat, and a coat which had once been lightblue, but from exposure as a scarecrow had assumed the complexion andfibre of a dried pudding-cloth. The farmer was, in fact, returning tothe hall, which he had left in the morning some time later than hisnephew, to seek an asylum in a hollow tree about two miles off. The treewas so situated as to command a view of the building, and Uncle Benjy hadmanaged to clamber up inside this natural fortification high enough towatch his residence through a hole in the bark, till, gathering from thewords of occasional passers-by that the alarm was at least premature, hehad ventured into daylight again. 

He was now engaged in abstractedly tracing a diagram in the dust with hiswalking-stick, and muttered words to himself aloud. Presently he aroseand went on his way without turning round. Festus was curious enough todescend and look at the marks. They represented an oblong, with two semi-diagonals, and a little square in the middle. Upon the diagonals werethe figures 20 and 17, and on each side of the parallelogram stood aletter signifying the point of the compass. 

'What crazy thing is running in his head now?' said Festus to himself, with supercilious pity, recollecting that the farmer had been singingthose very numbers earlier in the morning. Being able to make nothing ofit, he lengthened his strides, and treading on tiptoe overtook hisrelative, saluting him by scratching his back like a hen. The startledold farmer danced round like a top, and gasping, said, as he perceivedhis nephew, 'What, Festy! not thrown from your horse and killed, then, after all!'

'No, nunc. What made ye think that?'

'Champion passed me about an hour ago, when I was in hiding--poor timidsoul of me, for I had nothing to lose by the French coming--and he lookedawful with the stirrups dangling and the saddle empty. 'Tis a gloomysight, Festy, to see a horse cantering without a rider, and I thought youhad been--feared you had been thrown off and killed as dead as a nit. '

'Bless your dear old heart for being so anxious! And what pretty picturewere you drawing just now with your walking-stick!'

'O, that! That is only a way I have of amusing myself. It showed howthe French might have advanced to the attack, you know. Such triflesfill the head of a weak old man like me. '

'Or the place where something is hid away--money, for instance?'

'Festy, ' said the farmer reproachfully, 'you always know I use the oldglove in the bedroom cupboard for any guinea or two I possess. '

'Of course I do, ' said Festus ironically. 

They had now reached a lonely inn about a mile and a half from the hall, and, the farmer not responding to his nephew's kind invitation to come inand treat him, Festus entered alone. He was dusty, draggled, and weary, and he remained at the tavern long. The trumpet-major, in the meantime, having searched the roads in vain, heard in the course of the evening ofthe yeoman's arrival at this place, and that he would probably be foundthere still. He accordingly approached the door, reaching it just as thedusk of evening changed to darkness. 

There was no light in the passage, but John pushed on at hazard, inquiredfor Derriman, and was told that he would be found in the back parlouralone. When Loveday first entered the apartment he was unable to seeanything, but following the guidance of a vigorous snoring, he came tothe settle, upon which Festus lay asleep, his position being faintlysignified by the shine of his buttons and other parts of his uniform. John laid his hand upon the reclining figure and shook him, and bydegrees Derriman stopped his snore and sat up. 

'Who are you?' he said, in the accents of a man who has been drinkinghard. 'Is it you, dear Anne? Let me kiss you; yes, I will. '

'Shut your mouth, you pitiful blockhead; I'll teach you genteeler mannersthan to persecute a young woman in that way!' and taking Festus by theear, he gave it a good pull. Festus broke out with an oath, and struck avague blow in the air with his fist; whereupon the trumpet-major dealthim a box on the right ear, and a similar one on the left to artisticallybalance the first. Festus jumped up and used his fists wildly, butwithout any definite result. 

'Want to fight, do ye, eh?' said John. 'Nonsense! you can't fight, yougreat baby, and never could. You are only fit to be smacked!' and hedealt Festus a specimen of the same on the cheek with the palm of hishand. 

'No, sir, no! O, you are Loveday, the young man she's going to bemarried to, I suppose? Dash me, I didn't want to hurt her, sir. '

'Yes, my name is Loveday; and you'll know where to find me, since wecan't finish this to-night. Pistols or swords, whichever you like, myboy. Take that, and that, so that you may not forget to call upon me!'and again he smacked the yeoman's ears and cheeks. 'Do you know what itis for, eh?'

'No, Mr. Loveday, sir--yes, I mean, I do. '

'What is it for, then? I shall keep smacking until you tell me. Gad! ifyou weren't drunk, I'd half kill you here to-night. '

'It is because I served her badly. Damned if I care! I'll do it again, and be hanged to 'ee! Where's my horse Champion? Tell me that, ' and hehit at the trumpet-major. 

John parried this attack, and taking him firmly by the collar, pushed himdown into the seat, saying, 'Here I hold 'ee till you beg pardon for yourdoings to-day. Do you want any more of it, do you?' And he shook theyeoman to a sort of jelly. 

'I do beg pardon--no, I don't. I say this, that you shall not take suchliberties with old Squire Derriman's nephew, you dirty miller's son, youflour-worm, you smut in the corn! I'll call you out to-morrow morning, and have my revenge. '

'Of course you will; that's what I came for. ' And pushing him back intothe corner of the settle, Loveday went out of the house, feelingconsiderable satisfaction at having got himself into the beginning of asnice a quarrel about Anne Garland as the most jealous lover could desire. 

But of one feature in this curious adventure he had not the leastnotion--that Festus Derriman, misled by the darkness, the fumes of hispotations, and the constant sight of Anne and Bob together, never oncesupposed his assailant to be any other man than Bob, believing thetrumpet-major miles away. 

There was a moon during the early part of John's walk home, but when hehad arrived within a mile of Overcombe the sky clouded over, and rainsuddenly began to fall with some violence. Near him was a wooden granaryon tall stone staddles, and perceiving that the rain was only athunderstorm which would soon pass away, he ascended the steps andentered the doorway, where he stood watching the half-obscured moonthrough the streaming rain. Presently, to his surprise, he beheld afemale figure running forward with great rapidity, not towards thegranary for shelter, but towards open ground. What could she be runningfor in that direction? The answer came in the appearance of his brotherBob from that quarter, seated on the back of his father's heavy horse. Assoon as the woman met him, Bob dismounted and caught her in his arms. They stood locked together, the rain beating into their unconsciousforms, and the horse looking on. 

The trumpet-major fell back inside the granary, and threw himself on aheap of empty sacks which lay in the corner: he had recognized the womanto be Anne. Here he reclined in a stupor till he was aroused by thesound of voices under him, the voices of Anne and his brother, who, having at last discovered that they were getting wet, had taken shelterunder the granary floor. 

'I have been home, ' said she. 'Mother and Molly have both got back longago. We were all anxious about you, and I came out to look for you. O, Bob, I am so glad to see you again!'

John might have heard every word of the conversation, which was continuedin the same strain for a long time; but he stopped his ears, and wouldnot. Still they remained, and still was he determined that they shouldnot see him. With the conserved hope of more than half a year dashedaway in a moment, he could yet feel that the cruelty of a protest wouldbe even greater than its inutility. It was absolutely by his owncontrivance that the situation had been shaped. Bob, left to himself, would long ere this have been the husband of another woman. 

The rain decreased, and the lovers went on. John looked after them asthey strolled, aqua-tinted by the weak moon and mist. Bob had thrust oneof his arms through the rein of the horse, and the other was round Anne'swaist. When they were lost behind the declivity the trumpet-major cameout, and walked homeward even more slowly than they. As he went on, hisface put off its complexion of despair for one of serene resolve. Forthe first time in his dealings with friends he entered upon a course ofcounterfeiting, set his features to conceal his thought, and instructedhis tongue to do likewise. He threw fictitiousness into his very gait, even now, when there was nobody to see him, and struck at stems of wildparsley with his regimental switch as he had used to do when soldieringwas new to him, and life in general a charming experience. 

Thus cloaking his sickly thought, he descended to the mill as the othershad done before him, occasionally looking down upon the wet road tonotice how close Anne's little tracks were to Bob's all the way along, and how precisely a curve in his course was followed by a curve in hers. But after this he erected his head and walked so smartly up to the frontdoor that his spurs rang through the court. 

They had all reached home, but before any of them could speak he criedgaily, 'Ah, Bob, I have been thinking of you! By God, how are you, myboy? No French cut-throats after all, you see. Here we are, well andhappy together again. '

'A good Providence has watched over us, ' said Mrs. Loveday cheerfully. 'Yes, in all times and places we are in God's hand. '

'So we be, so we be!' said the miller, who still shone in all thefierceness of uniform. 'Well, now we'll ha'e a drop o' drink. '

'There's none, ' said David, coming forward with a drawn face. 

'What!' said the miller. 

'Afore I went to church for a pike to defend my native country fromBoney, I pulled out the spigots of all the barrels, maister; for, thinksI--damn him!--since we can't drink it ourselves, he shan't have it, nornone of his men. '

'But you shouldn't have done it till you was sure he'd come!' said themiller, aghast. 

'Chok' it all, I was sure!' said David. 'I'd sooner see churches fallthan good drink wasted; but how was I to know better?'

'Well, well; what with one thing and another this day will cost me apretty penny!' said Loveday, bustling off to the cellar, which he foundto be several inches deep in stagnant liquor. 'John, how can I welcome'ee?' he continued hopelessly, on his return to the room. 'Only go andsee what he's done!'

'I've ladled up a drap wi' a spoon, trumpet-major, ' said David. ''Tisn'tbad drinking, though it do taste a little of the floor, that's true. '

John said that he did not require anything at all; and then they all satdown to supper, and were very temperately gay with a drop of mild elder-wine which Mrs. Loveday found in the bottom of a jar. The trumpet-major, adhering to the part he meant to play, gave humorous accounts of hisadventures since he had last sat there. He told them that the season wasto be a very lively one--that the royal family was coming, as usual, andmany other interesting things; so that when he left them to return tobarracks few would have supposed the British army to contain a lighter-hearted man. 

Anne was the only one who doubted the reality of this behaviour. Whenshe had gone up to her bedroom she stood for some time looking at thewick of the candle as if it were a painful object, the expression of herface being shaped by the conviction that John's afternoon words when hehelped her out of the way of Champion were not in accordance with hiswords to-night, and that the dimly-realized kiss during her faintness wasno imaginary one. But in the blissful circumstances of having Bob athand again she took optimist views, and persuaded herself that John wouldsoon begin to see her in the light of a sister. 

XXIX. A DISSEMBLER

To cursory view, John Loveday seemed to accomplish this with amazingease. Whenever he came from barracks to Overcombe, which was once ortwice a week, he related news of all sorts to her and Bob with infinitezest, and made the time as happy a one as had ever been known at themill, save for himself alone. He said nothing of Festus, except so faras to inform Anne that he had expected to see him and been disappointed. On the evening after the King's arrival at his seaside residence Johnappeared again, staying to supper and describing the royal entry, themany tasteful illuminations and transparencies which had been exhibited, the quantities of tallow candles burnt for that purpose, and the swarmsof aristocracy who had followed the King thither. 

When supper was over Bob went outside the house to shut the shutters, which had, as was often the case, been left open some time after lightswere kindled within. John still sat at the table when his brotherapproached the window, though the others had risen and retired. Bob wasstruck by seeing through the pane how John's face had changed. Throughoutthe supper-time he had been talking to Anne in the gay tone habitual withhim now, which gave greater strangeness to the gloom of his presentappearance. He remained in thought for a moment, took a letter from hisbreast-pocket, opened it, and, with a tender smile at his weakness, kissed the writing before restoring it to its place. The letter was onethat Anne had written to him at Exonbury. 

Bob stood perplexed; and then a suspicion crossed his mind that John, from brotherly goodness, might be feigning a satisfaction with recentevents which he did not feel. Bob now made a noise with the shutters, atwhich the trumpet-major rose and went out, Bob at once following him. 

'Jack, ' said the sailor ingenuously, 'I'm terribly sorry that I've donewrong. '

'How?' asked his brother. 

'In courting our little Anne. Well, you see, John, she was in the samehouse with me, and somehow or other I made myself her beau. But I havebeen thinking that perhaps you had the first claim on her, and if so, Jack, I'll make way for 'ee. I--I don't care for her much, you know--notso very much, and can give her up very well. It is nothing seriousbetween us at all. Yes, John, you try to get her; I can look elsewhere. 'Bob never knew how much he loved Anne till he found himself making thisspeech of renunciation. 

'O Bob, you are mistaken!' said the trumpet-major, who was not deceived. 'When I first saw her I admired her, and I admire her now, and like her. I like her so well that I shall be glad to see you marry her. '

'But, ' replied Bob, with hesitation, 'I thought I saw you looking verysad, as if you were in love; I saw you take out a letter, in short. That's what it was disturbed me and made me come to you. '

'O, I see your mistake!' said John, laughing forcedly. 

At this minute Mrs. Loveday and the miller, who were taking a twilightwalk in the garden, strolled round near to where the brothers stood. Shetalked volubly on events in Budmouth, as most people did at this time. 'And they tell me that the theatre has been painted up afresh, ' she wassaying, 'and that the actors have come for the season, with the mostlovely actresses that ever were seen. '

When they had passed by John continued, 'I _am_ in love, Bob; but--notwith Anne. '

'Ah! who is it then?' said the mate hopefully. 

'One of the actresses at the theatre, ' John replied, with a concoctivelook at the vanishing forms of Mr. And Mrs. Loveday. 'She is a verylovely woman, you know. But we won't say anything more about it--itdashes a man so. '

'O, one of the actresses!' said Bob, with open mouth. 

'But don't you say anything about it!' continued the trumpet-majorheartily. 'I don't want it known. '

'No, no--I won't, of course. May I not know her name?'

'No, not now, Bob. I cannot tell 'ee, ' John answered, and with truth, for Loveday did not know the name of any actress in the world. 

When his brother had gone, Captain Bob hastened off in a state of greatanimation to Anne, whom he found on the top of a neighbouring hillockwhich the daylight had scarcely as yet deserted. 

'You have been a long time coming, sir, ' said she, in sprightly tones ofreproach. 

'Yes, dearest; and you'll be glad to hear why. I've found out the wholemystery--yes--why he's queer, and everything. '

Anne looked startled. 

'He's up to the gunnel in love! We must try to help him on in it, or Ifear he'll go melancholy-mad like. '

'We help him?' she asked faintly. 

'He's lost his heart to one of the play-actresses at Budmouth, and Ithink she slights him. '

'O, I am so glad!' she exclaimed. 

'Glad that his venture don't prosper?'

'O no; glad he's so sensible. How long is it since that alarm of theFrench?'

'Six weeks, honey. Why do you ask?'

'Men can forget in six weeks, can't they, Bob?'

The impression that John had really kissed her still remained. 

'Well, some men might, ' observed Bob judicially. '_I_ couldn't. PerhapsJohn might. I couldn't forget _you_ in twenty times as long. Do youknow, Anne, I half thought it was you John cared about; and it was aweight off my heart when he said he didn't. '

'Did he say he didn't?'

'Yes. He assured me himself that the only person in the hold of hisheart was this lovely play-actress, and nobody else. '

'How I should like to see her!'

'Yes. So should I. '

'I would rather it had been one of our own neighbours' girls, whose birthand breeding we know of; but still, if that is his taste, I hope it willend well for him. How very quick he has been! I certainly wish we couldsee her. '

'I don't know so much as her name. He is very close, and wouldn't tell athing about her. '

'Couldn't we get him to go to the theatre with us? and then we couldwatch him, and easily find out the right one. Then we would learn if sheis a good young woman; and if she is, could we not ask her here, and somake it smoother for him? He has been very gay lately; that meansbudding love: and sometimes between his gaieties he has had melancholymoments; that means there's difficulty. '

Bob thought her plan a good one, and resolved to put it in practice onthe first available evening. Anne was very curious as to whether Johndid really cherish a new passion, the story having quite surprised her. Possibly it was true; six weeks had passed since John had shown a singlesymptom of the old attachment, and what could not that space of timeeffect in the heart of a soldier whose very profession it was to leavegirls behind him?

After this John Loveday did not come to see them for nearly a month, aneglect which was set down by Bob as an additional proof that hisbrother's affections were no longer exclusively centred in his old home. When at last he did arrive, and the theatre-going was mentioned to him, the flush of consciousness which Anne expected to see upon his face wasunaccountably absent. 

'Yes, Bob; I should very well like to go to the theatre, ' he repliedheartily. 'Who is going besides?'

'Only Anne, ' Bob told him, and then it seemed to occur to the trumpet-major that something had been expected of him. He rose and saidprivately to Bob with some confusion, 'O yes, of course we'll go. As Iam connected with one of the--in short I can get you in for nothing, youknow. At least let me manage everything. '

'Yes, yes. I wonder you didn't propose to take us before, Jack, and letus have a good look at her. '

'I ought to have. You shall go on a King's night. You won't want me topoint her out, Bob; I have my reasons at present for asking it?'

'We'll be content with guessing, ' said his brother. 

When the gallant John was gone, Anne observed, 'Bob, how he is changed! Iwatched him. He showed no feeling, even when you burst upon him suddenlywith the subject nearest his heart. '

'It must be because his suit don't fay, ' said Captain Bob. 

XXX. AT THE THEATRE ROYAL

In two or three days a message arrived asking them to attend at thetheatre on the coming evening, with the added request that they woulddress in their gayest clothes, to do justice to the places taken. Accordingly, in the course of the afternoon they drove off, Bob havingclothed himself in a splendid suit, recently purchased as an attempt tobring himself nearer to Anne's style when they appeared in publictogether. As finished off by this dashing and really fashionable attire, he was the perfection of a beau in the dog-days; pantaloons and boots ofthe newest make; yards and yards of muslin wound round his neck, forminga sort of asylum for the lower part of his face; two fancy waistcoats, and coat-buttons like circular shaving glasses. The absurd extreme offemale fashion, which was to wear muslin dresses in January, was at thistime equalled by that of the men, who wore clothes enough in August tomelt them. Nobody would have guessed from Bob's presentation now that hehad ever been aloft on a dark night in the Atlantic, or knew the hundredingenuities that could be performed with a rope's end and a marline-spikeas well as his mother tongue. 

It was a day of days. Anne wore her celebrated celestial blue pelisse, her Leghorn hat, and her muslin dress with the waist under the arms; thelatter being decorated with excellent Honiton lace bought of the womanwho travelled from that place to Overcombe and its neighbourhood with abasketful of her own manufacture, and a cushion on which she worked bythe wayside. John met the lovers at the inn outside the town, and afterstabling the horse they entered the town together, the trumpet-majorinforming them that the watering-place had never been so full before, that the Court, the Prince of Wales, and everybody of consequence wasthere, and that an attic could scarcely be got for money. The King hadgone for a cruise in his yacht, and they would be in time to see himland. 

Then drums and fifes were heard, and in a minute or two they saw SergeantStanner advancing along the street with a firm countenance, fiery poll, and rigid staring eyes, in front of his recruiting-party. The sergeant'ssword was drawn, and at intervals of two or three inches along itsshining blade were impaled fluttering one-pound notes, to express thelavish bounty that was offered. He gave a stern, suppressed nod offriendship to our people, and passed by. Next they came up to a waggon, bowered over with leaves and flowers, so that the men inside could hardlybe seen. 

'Come to see the King, hip-hip hurrah!' cried a voice within, and turningthey saw through the leaves the nose and face of Cripplestraw. Thewaggon contained all Derriman's workpeople. 

'Is your master here?' said John. 

'No, trumpet-major, sir. But young maister is coming to fetch us at nineo'clock, in case we should be too blind to drive home. '

'O! where is he now?'

'Never mind, ' said Anne impatiently, at which the trumpet-majorobediently moved on. 

By the time they reached the pier it was six o'clock; the royal yacht wasreturning; a fact announced by the ships in the harbour firing a salute. The King came ashore with his hat in his hand, and returned thesalutations of the well-dressed crowd in his old indiscriminate fashion. While this cheering and waving of handkerchiefs was going on Anne stoodbetween the two brothers, who protectingly joined their hands behind herback, as if she were a delicate piece of statuary that a push mightdamage. Soon the King had passed, and receiving the military salutes ofthe piquet, joined the Queen and princesses at Gloucester Lodge, thehomely house of red brick in which he unostentatiously resided. 

As there was yet some little time before the theatre would open, theystrayed upon the velvet sands, and listened to the songs of the sailors, one of whom extemporized for the occasion:--

 'Portland Road the King aboard, the King aboard! Portland Road the King aboard, We weighed and sailed from Portland Road!' {272}

When they had looked on awhile at the combats at single-stick which werein progress hard by, and seen the sum of five guineas handed over to themodest gentleman who had broken most heads, they returned to GloucesterLodge, whence the King and other members of his family now reappeared, and drove, at a slow trot, round to the theatre in carriages drawn by theHanoverian white horses that were so well known in the town at this date. 

When Anne and Bob entered the theatre they found that John had takenexcellent places, and concluded that he had got them for nothing throughthe influence of the lady of his choice. As a matter of fact he had paidfull prices for those two seats, like any other outsider, and even thenhad a difficulty in getting them, it being a King's night. When theywere settled he himself retired to an obscure part of the pit, from whichthe stage was scarcely visible. 

'We can see beautifully, ' said Bob, in an aristocratic voice, as he tooka delicate pinch of snuff, and drew out the magnificentpocket-handkerchief brought home from the East for such occasions. 'ButI am afraid poor John can't see at all. '

'But we can see him, ' replied Anne, 'and notice by his face which of themit is he is so charmed with. The light of that corner candle falls rightupon his cheek. '

By this time the King had appeared in his place, which was overhung by acanopy of crimson satin fringed with gold. About twenty places wereoccupied by the royal family and suite; and beyond them was a crowd ofpowdered and glittering personages of fashion, completely filling thecentre of the little building; though the King so frequently patronizedthe local stage during these years that the crush was not inconvenient. 

The curtain rose and the play began. To-night it was one of Colman's, who at this time enjoyed great popularity, and Mr. Bannister supportedthe leading character. Anne, with her hand privately clasped in Bob's, and looking as if she did not know it, partly watched the piece andpartly the face of the impressionable John who had so soon transferredhis affections elsewhere. She had not long to wait. When a certain oneof the subordinate ladies of the comedy entered on the stage the trumpet-major in his corner not only looked conscious, but started and gazed withparted lips. 

'This must be the one, ' whispered Anne quickly. 'See, he is agitated!'

She turned to Bob, but at the same moment his hand convulsively closedupon hers as he, too, strangely fixed his eyes upon the newly-enteredlady. 

'What is it?'

Anne looked from one to the other without regarding the stage at all. Heranswer came in the voice of the actress who now spoke for the first time. The accents were those of Miss Matilda Johnson. 

One thought rushed into both their minds on the instant, and Bob was thefirst to utter it. 

'What--is she the woman of his choice after all?'

'If so, it is a dreadful thing!' murmured Anne. 

But, as may be imagined, the unfortunate John was as much surprised bythis rencounter as the other two. Until this moment he had been in utterignorance of the theatrical company and all that pertained to it. Moreover, much as he knew of Miss Johnson, he was not aware that she hadever been trained in her youth as an actress, and that after lapsing intostraits and difficulties for a couple of years she had been so fortunateas to again procure an engagement here. 

The trumpet-major, though not prominently seated, had been seen byMatilda already, who had observed still more plainly her old betrothedand Anne in the other part of the house. John was not concerned on hisown account at being face to face with her, but at the extraordinarysuspicion that this conjuncture must revive in the minds of his bestbeloved friends. After some moments of pained reflection he tapped hisknee. 

'Gad, I won't explain; it shall go as it is!' he said. 'Let them thinkher mine. Better that than the truth, after all. '

Had personal prominence in the scene been at this moment proportioned tointentness of feeling, the whole audience, regal and otherwise, wouldhave faded into an indistinct mist of background, leaving as the soleemergent and telling figures Bob and Anne at one point, the trumpet-majoron the left hand, and Matilda at the opposite corner of the stage. Butfortunately the deadlock of awkward suspense into which all four hadfallen was terminated by an accident. A messenger entered the King's boxwith despatches. There was an instant pause in the performance. Thedespatch-box being opened the King read for a few moments with greatinterest, the eyes of the whole house, including those of Anne Garland, being anxiously fixed upon his face; for terrible events fell asunexpectedly as thunderbolts at this critical time of our history. TheKing at length beckoned to Lord ---, who was immediately behind him, theplay was again stopped, and the contents of the despatch were publiclycommunicated to the audience. 

Sir Robert Calder, cruising off Finisterre, had come in sight ofVilleneuve, and made the signal for action, which, though checked by theweather, had resulted in the capture of two Spanish line-of-battle ships, and the retreat of Villeneuve into Ferrol. 

The news was received with truly national feeling, if noise might betaken as an index of patriotism. 'Rule Britannia' was called for andsung by the whole house. But the importance of the event was far frombeing recognized at this time; and Bob Loveday, as he sat there and heardit, had very little conception how it would bear upon his destiny. 

This parenthetic excitement diverted for a few minutes the eyes of Boband Anne from the trumpet-major; and when the play proceeded, and theylooked back to his corner, he was gone. 

'He's just slipped round to talk to her behind the scenes, ' said Bobknowingly. 'Shall we go too, and tease him for a sly dog?'

'No, I would rather not. '

'Shall we go home, then?'

'Not unless her presence is too much for you?'

'O--not at all. We'll stay here. Ah, there she is again. '

They sat on, and listened to Matilda's speeches which she delivered withsuch delightful coolness that they soon began to considerably interestone of the party. 

'Well, what a nerve the young woman has!' he said at last in tones ofadmiration, and gazing at Miss Johnson with all his might. 'After all, Jack's taste is not so bad. She's really deuced clever. '

'Bob, I'll go home if you wish to, ' said Anne quickly. 

'O no--let us see how she fleets herself off that bit of a scrape she'splaying at now. Well, what a hand she is at it, to be sure!'

Anne said no more, but waited on, supremely uncomfortable, and almosttearful. She began to feel that she did not like life particularly well;it was too complicated: she saw nothing of the scene, and only longed toget away, and to get Bob away with her. At last the curtain fell on thefinal act, and then began the farce of 'No Song no Supper. ' Matilda didnot appear in this piece, and Anne again inquired if they should go home. This time Bob agreed, and taking her under his care with redoubledaffection, to make up for the species of coma which had seized upon hisheart for a time, he quietly accompanied her out of the house. 

When they emerged upon the esplanade, the August moon was shining acrossthe sea from the direction of St. Aldhelm's Head. Bob unconsciouslyloitered, and turned towards the pier. Reaching the end of the promenadethey surveyed the quivering waters in silence for some time, until a longdark line shot from behind the promontory of the Nothe, and swept forwardinto the harbour. 

'What boat is that?' said Anne. 

'It seems to be some frigate lying in the Roads, ' said Bob carelessly, ashe brought Anne round with a gentle pressure of his arm and bent hissteps towards the homeward end of the town. 

Meanwhile, Miss Johnson, having finished her duties for that evening, rapidly changed her dress, and went out likewise. The prominent positionwhich Anne and Captain Bob had occupied side by side in the theatre, lefther no alternative but to suppose that the situation was arranged by Bobas a species of defiance to herself; and her heart, such as it was, became proportionately embittered against him. In spite of the rise inher fortunes, Miss Johnson still remembered--and always wouldremember--her humiliating departure from Overcombe; and it had been toher even a more grievous thing that Bob had acquiesced in his brother'sruling than that John had determined it. At the time of setting out shewas sustained by a firm faith that Bob would follow her, and nullify hisbrother's scheme; but though she waited Bob never came. 

She passed along by the houses facing the sea, and scanned the shore, thefootway, and the open road close to her, which, illuminated by theslanting moon to a great brightness, sparkled with minute facets ofcrystallized salts from the water sprinkled there during the day. Thepromenaders at the further edge appeared in dark profiles; and beyondthem was the grey sea, parted into two masses by the tapering braid ofmoonlight across the waves. 

Two forms crossed this line at a startling nearness to her; she markedthem at once as Anne and Bob Loveday. They were walking slowly, and inthe earnestness of their discourse were oblivious of the presence of anyhuman beings save themselves. Matilda stood motionless till they hadpassed. 

'How I love them!' she said, treading the initial step of her walkonwards with a vehemence that walking did not demand. 

'So do I--especially one, ' said a voice at her elbow; and a man wheeledround her, and looked in her face, which had been fully exposed to themoon. 

'You--who are you?' she asked. 

'Don't you remember, ma'am? We walked some way together towardsOvercombe earlier in the summer. ' Matilda looked more closely, andperceived that the speaker was Derriman, in plain clothes. He continued, 'You are one of the ladies of the theatre, I know. May I ask why yousaid in such a queer way that you loved that couple?'

'In a queer way?'

'Well, as if you hated them. '

'I don't mind your knowing that I have good reason to hate them. You dotoo, it seems?'

'That man, ' said Festus savagely, 'came to me one night about that verywoman; insulted me before I could put myself on my guard, and ran awaybefore I could come up with him and avenge myself. The woman tricks meat every turn! I want to part 'em. '

'Then why don't you? There's a splendid opportunity. Do you see thatsoldier walking along? He's a marine; he looks into the gallery of thetheatre every night: and he's in connexion with the press-gang that cameashore just now from the frigate lying in Portland Roads. They are oftenhere for men. '

'Yes. Our boatmen dread 'em. '

'Well, we have only to tell him that Loveday is a seaman to be clear ofhim this very night. '

'Done!' said Festus. 'Take my arm and come this way. ' They walkedacross to the footway. 'Fine night, sergeant. '

'It is, sir. '

'Looking for hands, I suppose?'

'It is not to be known, sir. We don't begin till half past ten. '

'It is a pity you don't begin now. I could show 'ee excellent game. '

'What, that little nest of fellows at the "Old Rooms" in Cove Row? Ihave just heard of 'em. '

'No--come here. ' Festus, with Miss Johnson on his arm, led the sergeantquickly along the parade, and by the time they reached the Narrows thelovers, who walked but slowly, were visible in front of them. 'There'syour man, ' he said. 

'That buck in pantaloons and half-boots--a looking like a squire?'

'Twelve months ago he was mate of the brig Pewit; but his father has mademoney, and keeps him at home. '

'Faith, now you tell of it, there's a hint of sea legs about him. What'sthe young beau's name?'

'Don't tell!' whispered Matilda, impulsively clutching Festus's arm. 

But Festus had already said, 'Robert Loveday, son of the miller atOvercombe. You may find several likely fellows in that neighbourhood. '

The marine said that he would bear it in mind, and they left him. 

'I wish you had not told, ' said Matilda tearfully. 'She's the worst!'

'Dash my eyes now; listen to that! Why, you chicken-hearted old stager, you was as well agreed as I. Come now; hasn't he used you badly?'

Matilda's acrimony returned. 'I was down on my luck, or he wouldn't havehad the chance!' she said. 

'Well, then, let things be. '

XXXI. MIDNIGHT VISITORS

Miss Garland and Loveday walked leisurely to the inn and called for horse-and-gig. While the hostler was bringing it round, the landlord, who knewBob and his family well, spoke to him quietly in the passage. 

'Is this then because you want to throw dust in the eyes of the BlackDiamond chaps?' (with an admiring glance at Bob's costume). 

'The Black Diamond?' said Bob; and Anne turned pale. 

'She hove in sight just after dark, and at nine o'clock a boat havingmore than a dozen marines on board, with cloaks on, rowed into harbour. '

Bob reflected. 'Then there'll be a press to-night; depend upon it, ' hesaid. 

'They won't know you, will they, Bob?' said Anne anxiously. 

'They certainly won't know him for a seaman now, ' remarked the landlord, laughing, and again surveying Bob up and down. 'But if I was you two, Ishould drive home-along straight and quiet; and be very busy in the millall to-morrow, Mr. Loveday. '

They drove away; and when they had got onward out of the town, Annestrained her eyes wistfully towards Portland. Its dark contour, lyinglike a whale on the sea, was just perceptible in the gloom as thebackground to half-a-dozen ships' lights nearer at hand. 

'They can't make you go, now you are a gentleman tradesman, can they?'she asked. 

'If they want me they can have me, dearest. I have often said I ought tovolunteer. '

'And not care about me at all?'

'It is just that that keeps me at home. I won't leave you if I can helpit. '

'It cannot make such a vast difference to the country whether one mangoes or stays! But if you want to go you had better, and not mind us atall!'

Bob put a period to her speech by a mark of affection to which historyaffords many parallels in every age. She said no more about the BlackDiamond; but whenever they ascended a hill she turned her head to look atthe lights in Portland Roads, and the grey expanse of intervening sea. 

Though Captain Bob had stated that he did not wish to volunteer, andwould not leave her if he could help it, the remark required somequalification. That Anne was charming and loving enough to chain himanywhere was true; but he had begun to find the mill-work terriblyirksome at times. Often during the last month, when standing among therumbling cogs in his new miller's suit, which ill became him, he hadyawned, thought wistfully of the old pea-jacket, and the waters of thedeep blue sea. His dread of displeasing his father by showing anythingof this change of sentiment was great; yet he might have braved it butfor knowing that his marriage with Anne, which he hoped might take placethe next year, was dependent entirely upon his adherence to the millbusiness. Even were his father indifferent, Mrs. Loveday would neverintrust her only daughter to the hands of a husband who would be awayfrom home five-sixths of his time. 

But though, apart from Anne, he was not averse to seafaring in itself, tobe smuggled thither by the machinery of a press-gang was intolerable; andthe process of seizing, stunning, pinioning, and carrying off unwillinghands was one which Bob as a man had always determined to hold outagainst to the utmost of his power. Hence, as they went towards home, hefrequently listened for sounds behind him, but hearing none he assuredhis sweetheart that they were safe for that night at least. The mill wasstill going when they arrived, though old Mr. Loveday was not to be seen;he had retired as soon as he heard the horse's hoofs in the lane, leavingBob to watch the grinding till three o'clock; when the elder would rise, and Bob withdraw to bed--a frequent arrangement between them since Bobhad taken the place of grinder. 

Having reached the privacy of her own room, Anne threw open the window, for she had not the slightest intention of going to bed just yet. Thetale of the Black Diamond had disturbed her by a slow, insidious processthat was worse than sudden fright. Her window looked into the courtbefore the house, now wrapped in the shadow of the trees and the hill;and she leaned upon its sill listening intently. She could have heardany strange sound distinctly enough in one direction; but in the otherall low noises were absorbed in the patter of the mill, and the rush ofwater down the race. 

However, what she heard came from the hitherto silent side, and wasintelligible in a moment as being the footsteps of men. She tried tothink they were some late stragglers from Budmouth. Alas! no; the trampwas too regular for that of villagers. She hastily turned, extinguishedthe candle, and listened again. As they were on the main road there was, after all, every probability that the party would pass the bridge whichgave access to the mill court without turning in upon it, or evennoticing that such an entrance existed. In this again she wasdisappointed: they crossed into the front without a pause. Thepulsations of her heart became a turmoil now, for why should these men, if they were the press-gang, and strangers to the locality, have supposedthat a sailor was to be found here, the younger of the two millersLoveday being never seen now in any garb which could suggest that he wasother than a miller pure, like his father? One of the men spoke. 

'I am not sure that we are in the right place, ' he said. 

'This is a mill, anyhow, ' said another. 

'There's lots about here. '

'Then come this way a moment with your light. '

Two of the group went towards the cart-house on the opposite side of theyard, and when they reached it a dark lantern was opened, the rays beingdirected upon the front of the miller's waggon. 

'"Loveday and Son, Overcombe Mill, "' continued the man, reading from thewaggon. '"Son, " you see, is lately painted in. That's our man. '

He moved to turn off the light, but before he had done so it flashed overthe forms of the speakers, and revealed a sergeant, a naval officer, anda file of marines. 

Anne waited to see no more. When Bob stayed up to grind, as he was doingto-night, he often sat in his room instead of remaining all the time inthe mill; and this room was an isolated chamber over the bakehouse, whichcould not be reached without going downstairs and ascending thestep-ladder that served for his staircase. Anne descended in the dark, clambered up the ladder, and saw that light strayed through the chinkbelow the door. His window faced towards the garden, and hence the lightcould not as yet have been seen by the press-gang. 

'Bob, dear Bob!' she said, through the keyhole. 'Put out your light, andrun out of the back-door!'

'Why?' said Bob, leisurely knocking the ashes from the pipe he had beensmoking. 

'The press-gang!'

'They have come? By God! who can have blown upon me? All right, dearest. I'm game. '

Anne, scarcely knowing what she did, descended the ladder and ran to theback-door, hastily unbolting it to save Bob's time, and gently opening itin readiness for him. She had no sooner done this than she felt handslaid upon her shoulder from without, and a voice exclaiming, 'That's howwe doos it--quite an obleeging young man!'

Though the hands held her rather roughly, Anne did not mind for herself, and turning she cried desperately, in tones intended to reach Bob's ears:'They are at the back-door; try the front!'

But inexperienced Miss Garland little knew the shrewd habits of thegentlemen she had to deal with, who, well used to this sort of pastime, had already posted themselves at every outlet from the premises. 

'Bring the lantern, ' shouted the fellow who held her. 'Why--'tis a girl!I half thought so--Here is a way in, ' he continued to his comrades, hastening to the foot of the ladder which led to Bob's room. 

'What d'ye want?' said Bob, quietly opening the door, and showing himselfstill radiant in the full dress that he had worn with such effect at theTheatre Royal, which he had been about to change for his mill suit whenAnne gave the alarm. 

'This gentleman can't be the right one, ' observed a marine, ratherimpressed by Bob's appearance. 

'Yes, yes; that's the man, ' said the sergeant. 'Now take it quietly, myyoung cock-o'-wax. You look as if you meant to, and 'tis wise of ye. '

'Where are you going to take me?' said Bob. 

'Only aboard the Black Diamond. If you choose to take the bounty andcome voluntarily, you'll be allowed to go ashore whenever your ship's inport. If you don't, and we've got to pinion ye, you will not have yourliberty at all. As you must come, willy-nilly, you'll do the first ifyou've any brains whatever. '

Bob's temper began to rise. 'Don't you talk so large, about yourpinioning, my man. When I've settled--'

'Now or never, young blow-hard, ' interrupted his informant. 

'Come, what jabber is this going on?' said the lieutenant, steppingforward. 'Bring your man. '

One of the marines set foot on the ladder, but at the same moment a shoefrom Bob's hand hit the lantern with well-aimed directness, knocking itclean out of the grasp of the man who held it. In spite of the darknessthey began to scramble up the ladder. Bob thereupon shut the door, whichbeing but of slight construction, was as he knew only a momentarydefence. But it gained him time enough to open the window, gather up hislegs upon the sill, and spring across into the apple-tree growingwithout. He alighted without much hurt beyond a few scratches from theboughs, a shower of falling apples testifying to the force of his leap. 

'Here he is!' shouted several below who had seen Bob's figure flying likea raven's across the sky. 

There was stillness for a moment in the tree. Then the fugitive madehaste to climb out upon a low-hanging branch towards the garden, at whichthe men beneath all rushed in that direction to catch him as he dropped, saying, 'You may as well come down, old boy. 'Twas a spry jump, and wegive ye credit for 't. '

The latter movement of Loveday had been a mere feint. Partly hidden bythe leaves he glided back to the other part of the tree, from whence itwas easy to jump upon a thatch-covered out-house. This intention theydid not appear to suspect, which gave him the opportunity of sliding downthe slope and entering the back door of the mill. 

'He's here, he's here!' the men exclaimed, running back from the tree. 

By this time they had obtained another light, and pursued him closelyalong the back quarters of the mill. Bob had entered the lower room, seized hold of the chain by which the flour-sacks were hoisted from storyto story by connexion with the mill-wheel, and pulled the rope that hungalongside for the purpose of throwing it into gear. The foremostpursuers arrived just in time to see Captain Bob's legs and shoe-bucklesvanishing through the trap-door in the joists overhead, his person havingbeen whirled up by the machinery like any bag of flour, and the trapfalling to behind him. 

'He's gone up by the hoist!' said the sergeant, running up the ladder inthe corner to the next floor, and elevating the light just in time to seeBob's suspended figure ascending in the same way through the same sort oftrap into the second floor. The second trap also fell together behindhim, and he was lost to view as before. 

It was more difficult to follow now; there was only a flimsy littleladder, and the men ascended cautiously. When they stepped out upon theloft it was empty. 

'He must ha' let go here, ' said one of the marines, who knew more aboutmills than the others. 'If he had held fast a moment longer, he wouldhave been dashed against that beam. '

They looked up. The hook by which Bob had held on had ascended to theroof, and was winding round the cylinder. Nothing was visible elsewherebut boarded divisions like the stalls of a stable, on each side of thestage they stood upon, these compartments being more or less heaped upwith wheat and barley in the grain. 

'Perhaps he's buried himself in the corn. '

The whole crew jumped into the corn-bins, and stirred about their yellowcontents; but neither arm, leg, nor coat-tail was uncovered. Theyremoved sacks, peeped among the rafters of the roof, but to no purpose. The lieutenant began to fume at the loss of time. 

'What cursed fools to let the man go! Why, look here, what's this?' Hehad opened the door by which sacks were taken in from waggons without, and dangling from the cat-head projecting above it was the rope used inlifting them. 'There's the way he went down, ' the officer continued. 'The man's gone. '

Amidst mumblings and curses the gang descended the pair of ladders andcame into the open air; but Captain Bob was nowhere to be seen. Whenthey reached the front door of the house the miller was standing on thethreshold, half dressed. 

'Your son is a clever fellow, miller, ' said the lieutenant; 'but it wouldhave been much better for him if he had come quiet. '

'That's a matter of opinion, ' said Loveday. 

'I have no doubt that he's in the house. '

'He may be; and he may not. '

'Do you know where he is?'

'I do not; and if I did I shouldn't tell. '

'Naturally. '

'I heard steps beating up the road, sir, ' said the sergeant. 

They turned from the door, and leaving four of the marines to keep watchround the house, the remainder of the party marched into the lane as faras where the other road branched off. While they were pausing to decidewhich course to take, one of the soldiers held up the light. A blackobject was discernible upon the ground before them, and they found it tobe a hat--the hat of Bob Loveday. 

'We are on the track, ' cried the sergeant, deciding for this direction. 

They tore on rapidly, and the footsteps previously heard became audibleagain, increasing in clearness, which told that they gained upon thefugitive, who in another five minutes stopped and turned. The rays ofthe candle fell upon Anne. 

'What do you want?' she said, showing her frightened face. 

They made no reply, but wheeled round and left her. She sank down on thebank to rest, having done all she could. It was she who had taken downBob's hat from a nail, and dropped it at the turning with the view ofmisleading them till he should have got clear off. 

XXXII. DELIVERANCE

But Anne Garland was too anxious to remain long away from the centre ofoperations. When she got back she found that the press-gang werestanding in the court discussing their next move. 

'Waste no more time here, ' the lieutenant said. 'Two more villages tovisit to-night, and the nearest three miles off. There's nobody else inthis place, and we can't come back again. '

When they were moving away, one of the private marines, who had kept hiseye on Anne, and noticed her distress, contrived to say in a whisper ashe passed her, 'We are coming back again as soon as it begins to getlight; that's only said to deceive 'ee. Keep your young man out of theway. '

They went as they had come; and the little household then met together, Mrs. Loveday having by this time dressed herself and come down. A longand anxious discussion followed. 

'Somebody must have told upon the chap, ' Loveday remarked. 'How shouldthey have found him out else, now he's been home from sea thistwelvemonth?'

Anne then mentioned what the friendly marine had told her; and fearinglest Bob was in the house, and would be discovered there when daylightcame, they searched and called for him everywhere. 

'What clothes has he got on?' said the miller. 

'His lovely new suit, ' said his wife. 'I warrant it is quite spoiled!'

'He's got no hat, ' said Anne. 

'Well, ' said Loveday, 'you two go and lie down now and I'll bide up; andas soon as he comes in, which he'll do most likely in the course of thenight, I'll let him know that they are coming again. '

Anne and Mrs. Loveday went to their bedrooms, and the miller entered themill as if he were simply staying up to grind. But he continually leftthe flour-shoot to go outside and walk round; each time he could see noliving being near the spot. Anne meanwhile had lain down dressed uponher bed, the window still open, her ears intent upon the sound offootsteps and dreading the reappearance of daylight and the gang'sreturn. Three or four times during the night she descended to the millto inquire of her stepfather if Bob had shown himself; but the answer wasalways in the negative. 

At length the curtains of her bed began to reveal their pattern, thebrass handles of the drawers gleamed forth, and day dawned. While thelight was yet no more than a suffusion of pallor, she arose, put on herhat, and determined to explore the surrounding premises before the menarrived. Emerging into the raw loneliness of the daybreak, she went uponthe bridge and looked up and down the road. It was as she had left it, empty, and the solitude was rendered yet more insistent by the silence ofthe mill-wheel, which was now stopped, the miller having given upexpecting Bob and retired to bed about three o'clock. The footprints ofthe marines still remained in the dust on the bridge, all the heel-markstowards the house, showing that the party had not as yet returned. 

While she lingered she heard a slight noise in the other direction, and, turning, saw a woman approaching. The woman came up quickly, and, to heramazement, Anne recognized Matilda. Her walk was convulsive, face pale, almost haggard, and the cold light of the morning invested it with allthe ghostliness of death. She had plainly walked all the way fromBudmouth, for her shoes were covered with dust. 

'Has the press-gang been here?' she gasped. 'If not they are coming!'

'They have been. '

'And got him--I am too late!'

'No; they are coming back again. Why did you--'

'I came to try to save him. Can we save him? Where is he?'

Anne looked the woman in the face, and it was impossible to doubt thatshe was in earnest. 

'I don't know, ' she answered. 'I am trying to find him before theycome. '

'Will you not let me help you?' cried the repentant Matilda. 

Without either objecting or assenting Anne turned and led the way to theback part of the homestead. 

Matilda, too, had suffered that night. From the moment of parting withFestus Derriman a sentiment of revulsion from the act to which she hadbeen a party set in and increased, till at length it reached an intensityof remorse which she could not passively bear. She had risen before dayand hastened thitherward to know the worst, and if possible hinderconsequences that she had been the first to set in train. 

After going hither and thither in the adjoining field, Anne entered thegarden. The walks were bathed in grey dew, and as she passed observantlyalong them it appeared as if they had been brushed by some foot at a muchearlier hour. At the end of the garden, bushes of broom, laurel, and yewformed a constantly encroaching shrubbery, that had come there almost bychance, and was never trimmed. Behind these bushes was a garden-seat, and upon it lay Bob sound asleep. 

The ends of his hair were clotted with damp, and there was a foggy filmupon the mirror-like buttons of his coat, and upon the buckles of hisshoes. His bunch of new gold seals was dimmed by the same insidiousdampness; his shirt-frill and muslin neckcloth were limp as seaweed. Itwas plain that he had been there a long time. Anne shook him, but he didnot awake, his breathing being slow and stertorous. 

'Bob, wake; 'tis your own Anne!' she said, with innocent earnestness; andthen, fearfully turning her head, she saw that Matilda was close behindher. 

'You needn't mind me, ' said Matilda bitterly. 'I am on your side now. Shake him again. '

Anne shook him again, but he slept on. Then she noticed that hisforehead bore the mark of a heavy wound. 

'I fancy I hear something!' said her companion, starting forward andendeavouring to wake Bob herself. 'He is stunned, or drugged!' she said;'there is no rousing him. '

Anne raised her head and listened. From the direction of the easternroad came the sound of a steady tramp. 'They are coming back!' she said, clasping her hands. 'They will take him, ill as he is! He won't openhis eyes--no, it is no use! O, what shall we do?'

Matilda did not reply, but running to the end of the seat on which Boblay, tried its weight in her arms. 

'It is not too heavy, ' she said. 'You take that end, and I'll take this. We'll carry him away to some place of hiding. '

Anne instantly seized the other end, and they proceeded with their burdenat a slow pace to the lower garden-gate, which they reached as the treadof the press-gang resounded over the bridge that gave access to the millcourt, now hidden from view by the hedge and the trees of the garden. 

'We will go down inside this field, ' said Anne faintly. 

'No!' said the other; 'they will see our foot-tracks in the dew. We mustgo into the road. '

'It is the very road they will come down when they leave the mill. '

'It cannot be helped; it is neck or nothing with us now. '

So they emerged upon the road, and staggered along without speaking, occasionally resting for a moment to ease their arms; then shaking him toarouse him, and finding it useless, seizing the seat again. When theyhad gone about two hundred yards Matilda betrayed signs of exhaustion, and she asked, 'Is there no shelter near?'

'When we get to that little field of corn, ' said Anne. 

'It is so very far. Surely there is some place near?'

She pointed to a few scrubby bushes overhanging a little stream, whichpassed under the road near this point. 

'They are not thick enough, ' said Anne. 

'Let us take him under the bridge, ' said Matilda. 'I can go no further. '

Entering the opening by which cattle descended to drink, they waded intothe weedy water, which here rose a few inches above their ankles. Toascend the stream, stoop under the arch, and reach the centre of theroadway, was the work of a few minutes. 

'If they look under the arch we are lost, ' murmured Anne. 

'There is no parapet to the bridge, and they may pass over withoutheeding. '

They waited, their heads almost in contact with the reeking arch, andtheir feet encircled by the stream, which was at its summer lowness now. For some minutes they could hear nothing but the babble of the water overtheir ankles, and round the legs of the seat on which Bob slumbered, thesounds being reflected in a musical tinkle from the hollow sides of thearch. Anne's anxiety now was lest he should not continue sleeping tillthe search was over, but start up with his habitual imprudence, andscorning such means of safety, rush out into their arms. 

A quarter of an hour dragged by, and then indications reached their earsthat the re-examination of the mill had begun and ended. The well-knowntramp drew nearer, and reverberated through the ground over their heads, where its volume signified to the listeners that the party had beenlargely augmented by pressed men since the night preceding. The gangpassed the arch, and the noise regularly diminished, as if no man amongthem had thought of looking aside for a moment. 

Matilda broke the silence. 'I wonder if they have left a watch behind?'she said doubtfully. 

'I will go and see, ' said Anne. 'Wait till I return. '

'No; I can do no more. When you come back I shall be gone. I ask onething of you. If all goes well with you and him, and he marriesyou--don't be alarmed; my plans lie elsewhere--when you are his wife tellhim who helped to carry him away. But don't mention my name to the restof your family, either now or at any time. '

Anne regarded the speaker for a moment, and promised; after which shewaded out from the archway. 

Matilda stood looking at Bob for a moment, as if preparing to go, tillmoved by some impulse she bent and lightly kissed him once. 

'How can you!' cried Anne reproachfully. When leaving the mouth of thearch she had bent back and seen the act. 

Matilda flushed. 'You jealous baby!' she said scornfully. 

Anne hesitated for a moment, then went out from the water, and hastenedtowards the mill. 

She entered by the garden, and, seeing no one, advanced and peeped in atthe window. Her mother and Mr. Loveday were sitting within as usual. 

'Are they all gone?' said Anne softly. 

'Yes. They did not trouble us much, beyond going into every room, andsearching about the garden, where they saw steps. They have been luckyto-night; they have caught fifteen or twenty men at places further on; sothe loss of Bob was no hurt to their feelings. I wonder where in theworld the poor fellow is!'

'I will show you, ' said Anne. And explaining in a few words what hadhappened, she was promptly followed by David and Loveday along the road. She lifted her dress and entered the arch with some anxiety on account ofMatilda; but the actress was gone, and Bob lay on the seat as she hadleft him. 

Bob was brought out, and water thrown upon his face; but though he movedhe did not rouse himself until some time after he had been borne into thehouse. Here he opened his eyes, and saw them standing round, andgathered a little consciousness. 

'You are all right, my boy!' said his father. 'What hev happened to ye?Where did ye get that terrible blow?'

'Ah--I can mind now, ' murmured Bob, with a stupefied gaze around. 'Ifell in slipping down the topsail halyard--the rope, that is, was tooshort--and I fell upon my head. And then I went away. When I came backI thought I wouldn't disturb ye: so I lay down out there, to sleep outthe watch; but the pain in my head was so great that I couldn't get tosleep; so I picked some of the poppy-heads in the border, which I onceheard was a good thing for sending folks to sleep when they are in pain. So I munched up all I could find, and dropped off quite nicely. '

'I wondered who had picked 'em!' said Molly. 'I noticed they were gone. '

'Why, you might never have woke again!' said Mrs. Loveday, holding up herhands. 'How is your head now?'

'I hardly know, ' replied the young man, putting his hand to his foreheadand beginning to doze again. 'Where be those fellows that boarded us?With this--smooth water and--fine breeze we ought to get away from 'em. Haul in--the larboard braces, and--bring her to the wind. '

'You are at home, dear Bob, ' said Anne, bending over him, 'and the menare gone. '

'Come along upstairs: th' beest hardly awake now, ' said his father andBob was assisted to bed. 

XXXIII. A DISCOVERY TURNS THE SCALE

In four-and-twenty hours Bob had recovered. But though physicallyhimself again, he was not at all sure of his position as a patriot. Hehad that practical knowledge of seamanship of which the country stoodmuch in need, and it was humiliating to find that impressment seemed tobe necessary to teach him to use it for her advantage. Many neighbouringyoung men, less fortunate than himself, had been pressed and taken; andtheir absence seemed a reproach to him. He went away by himself into themill-roof, and, surrounded by the corn-heaps, gave vent toself-condemnation. 

'Certainly, I am no man to lie here so long for the pleasure of sightingthat young girl forty times a day, and letting her sight me--bless hereyes!--till I must needs want a press-gang to teach me what I've forgot. And is it then all over with me as a British sailor? We'll see. '

When he was thrown under the influence of Anne's eyes again, which weremore tantalizingly beautiful than ever just now (so it seemed to him), his intention of offering his services to the Government would waxweaker, and he would put off his final decision till the next day. Annesaw these fluctuations of his mind between love and patriotism, and beingterrified by what she had heard of sea-fights, used the utmost art ofwhich she was capable to seduce him from his forming purpose. She cameto him in the mill, wearing the very prettiest of her morning jackets--theone that only just passed the waist, and was laced so tastefully roundthe collar and bosom. Then she would appear in her new hat, with abouquet of primroses on one side; and on the following Sunday she walkedbefore him in lemon-coloured boots, so that her feet looked like a pairof yellow-hammers flitting under her dress. 

But dress was the least of the means she adopted for chaining him down. She talked more tenderly than ever; asked him to begin small undertakingsin the garden on her account; she sang about the house, that the placemight seem cheerful when he came in. This singing for a purpose requiredgreat effort on her part, leaving her afterwards very sad. When Bobasked her what was the matter, she would say, 'Nothing; only I amthinking how you will grieve your father, and cross his purposes, if youcarry out your unkind notion of going to sea, and forsaking your place inthe mill. '

'Yes, ' Bob would say uneasily. 'It will trouble him, I know. '

Being also quite aware how it would trouble her, he would again postpone, and thus another week passed away. 

All this time John had not come once to the mill. It appeared as if MissJohnson absorbed all his time and thoughts. Bob was often seen chucklingover the circumstance. 'A sly rascal!' he said. 'Pretending on the dayshe came to be married that she was not good enough for me, when it wasonly that he wanted her for himself. How he could have persuaded her togo away is beyond me to say!'

Anne could not contest this belief of her lover's, and remained silent;but there had more than once occurred to her mind a doubt of itsprobability. Yet she had only abandoned her opinion that John hadschemed for Matilda, to embrace the opposite error; that, finding he hadwronged the young lady, he had pitied and grown to love her. 

'And yet Jack, when he was a boy, was the simplest fellow alive, ' resumedBob. 'By George, though, I should have been hot against him for such atrick, if in losing her I hadn't found a better! But she'll never comedown to him in the world: she has high notions now. I am afraid he'sdoomed to sigh in vain!'

Though Bob regretted this possibility, the feeling was not reciprocatedby Anne. It was true that she knew nothing of Matilda's temporarytreachery, and that she disbelieved the story of her lack of virtue; butshe did not like the woman. 'Perhaps it will not matter if he is doomedto sigh in vain, ' she said. 'But I owe him no ill-will. I have profitedby his doings, incomprehensible as they are. ' And she bent her fair eyeson Bob and smiled. 

Bob looked dubious. 'He thinks he has affronted me, now I have seenthrough him, and that I shall be against meeting him. But, of course, Iam not so touchy. I can stand a practical joke, as can any man who hasbeen afloat. I'll call and see him, and tell him so. '

Before he started, Bob bethought him of something which would stillfurther prove to the misapprehending John that he was entirely forgiven. He went to his room, and took from his chest a packet containing a lockof Miss Johnson's hair, which she had given him during their briefacquaintance, and which till now he had quite forgotten. When, atstarting, he wished Anne goodbye, it was accompanied by such a beamingface, that she knew he was full of an idea, and asked what it might bethat pleased him so. 

'Why, this, ' he said, smacking his breast-pocket. 'A lock of hair thatMatilda gave me. '

Anne sank back with parted lips. 

'I am going to give it to Jack--he'll jump for joy to get it! And itwill show him how willing I am to give her up to him, fine piece as sheis. '

'Will you see her to-day, Bob?' Anne asked with an uncertain smile. 

'O no--unless it is by accident. '

On reaching the outskirts of the town he went straight to the barracks, and was lucky enough to find John in his room, at the left-hand corner ofthe quadrangle. John was glad to see him; but to Bob's surprise heshowed no immediate contrition, and thus afforded no room for thebrotherly speech of forgiveness which Bob had been going to deliver. Asthe trumpet-major did not open the subject, Bob felt it desirable tobegin himself. 

'I have brought ye something that you will value, Jack, ' he said, as theysat at the window, overlooking the large square barrack-yard. 'I havegot no further use for it, and you should have had it before if it hadentered my head. '

'Thank you, Bob; what is it?' said John, looking absently at an awkwardsquad of young men who were drilling in the enclosure. 

''Tis a young woman's lock of hair. '

'Ah!' said John, quite recovering from his abstraction, and slightlyflushing. Could Bob and Anne have quarrelled? Bob drew the paper fromhis pocket, and opened it. 

'Black!' said John. 

'Yes--black enough. '

'Whose?'

'Why, Matilda's. '

'O, Matilda's!'

'Whose did you think then?'

Instead of replying, the trumpet-major's face became as red as sunset, and he turned to the window to hide his confusion. 

Bob was silent, and then he, too, looked into the court. At length hearose, walked to his brother, and laid his hand upon his shoulder. 'Jack, ' he said, in an altered voice, 'you are a good fellow. Now I seeit all. '

'O no--that's nothing, ' said John hastily. 

'You've been pretending that you care for this woman that I mightn'tblame myself for heaving you out from the other--which is what I've donewithout knowing it. '

'What does it matter?'

'But it does matter! I've been making you unhappy all these weeks andweeks through my thoughtlessness. They seemed to think at home, youknow, John, that you had grown not to care for her; or I wouldn't havedone it for all the world!'

'You stick to her, Bob, and never mind me. She belongs to you. Sheloves you. I have no claim upon her, and she thinks nothing about me. '

'She likes you, John, thoroughly well; so does everybody; and if I hadn'tcome home, putting my foot in it-- That coming home of mine has been aregular blight upon the family! I ought never to have stayed. The seais my home, and why couldn't I bide there?'

The trumpet-major drew Bob's discourse off the subject as soon as hecould, and Bob, after some unconsidered replies and remarks, seemedwilling to avoid it for the present. He did not ask John to accompanyhim home, as he had intended; and on leaving the barracks turnedsouthward and entered the town to wander about till he could decide whatto do. 

It was the 3rd of September, but the King's watering-place still retainedits summer aspect. The royal bathing-machine had been drawn out just asBob reached Gloucester Buildings, and he waited a minute, in the lack ofother distraction, to look on. Immediately that the King's machine hadentered the water a group of florid men with fiddles, violoncellos, atrombone, and a drum, came forward, packed themselves into anothermachine that was in waiting, and were drawn out into the waves in theKing's rear. All that was to be heard for a few minutes were the slowpulsations of the sea; and then a deafening noise burst from the interiorof the second machine with power enough to split the boards asunder; itwas the condensed mass of musicians inside, striking up the strains of'God save the King, ' as his Majesty's head rose from the water. Bob tookoff his hat and waited till the end of the performance, which, intendedas a pleasant surprise to George III. By the loyal burghers, was possiblyin the watery circumstances tolerated rather than desired by thatdripping monarch. {303}

Loveday then passed on to the harbour, where he remained awhile, lookingat the busy scene of loading and unloading craft and swabbing the decksof yachts; at the boats and barges rubbing against the quay wall, and atthe houses of the merchants, some ancient structures of solid stone, others green-shuttered with heavy wooden bow-windows which appeared as ifabout to drop into the harbour by their own weight. All these things hegazed upon, and thought of one thing--that he had caused great misery tohis brother John. 

The town clock struck, and Bob retraced his steps till he againapproached the Esplanade and Gloucester Lodge, where the morning sunblazed in upon the house fronts, and not a spot of shade seemed to beattainable. A huzzaing attracted his attention, and he observed that anumber of people had gathered before the King's residence, where a browncurricle had stopped, out of which stepped a hale man in the prime oflife, wearing a blue uniform, gilt epaulettes, cocked hat, and sword, whocrossed the pavement and went in. Bob went up and joined the group. 'What's going on?' he said. 

'Captain Hardy, ' replied a bystander. 

'What of him?'

'Just gone in--waiting to see the King. '

'But the captain is in the West Indies?'

'No. The fleet is come home; they can't find the French anywhere. '

'Will they go and look for them again?' asked Bob. 

'O yes. Nelson is determined to find 'em. As soon as he's refittedhe'll put to sea again. Ah, here's the King coming in. '

Bob was so interested in what he had just heard that he scarcely noticedthe arrival of the King, and a body of attendant gentlemen. He went onthinking of his new knowledge; Captain Hardy was come. He was doubtlessstaying with his family at their small manor-house at Pos'ham, a fewmiles from Overcombe, where he usually spent the intervals between hisdifferent cruises. 

Loveday returned to the mill without further delay; and shortlyexplaining that John was very well, and would come soon, went on to talkof the arrival of Nelson's captain. 

'And is he come at last?' said the miller, throwing his thoughts yearsbackward. 'Well can I mind when he first left home to go on board theHelena as midshipman!'

'That's not much to remember. I can remember it too, ' said Mrs. Loveday. 

''Tis more than twenty years ago anyhow. And more than that, I can mindwhen he was born; I was a lad, serving my 'prenticeship at the time. Hehas been in this house often and often when 'a was young. When he camehome after his first voyage he stayed about here a long time, and used tolook in at the mill whenever he went past. "What will you be next, sir?"said mother to him one day as he stood with his back to the doorpost. "Alieutenant, Dame Loveday, " says he. "And what next?" says she. "Acommander. " "And next?" "Next, post-captain. " "And then?" "Then itwill be almost time to die. " I'd warrant that he'd mind it to this veryday if you were to ask him. '

Bob heard all this with a manner of preoccupation, and soon retired tothe mill. Thence he went to his room by the back passage, and taking hisold seafaring garments from a dark closet in the wall conveyed them tothe loft at the top of the mill, where he occupied the remaining sparemoments of the day in brushing the mildew from their folds, and hangingeach article by the window to get aired. In the evening he returned tothe loft, and dressing himself in the old salt suit, went out of thehouse unobserved by anybody, and ascended the road towards CaptainHardy's native village and present temporary home. 

The shadeless downs were now brown with the droughts of the passingsummer, and few living things met his view, the natural rotundity of theelevation being only occasionally disturbed by the presence of a barrow, a thorn-bush, or a piece of dry wall which remained from some attemptedenclosure. By the time that he reached the village it was dark, and thelarger stars had begun to shine when he walked up to the door of the old-fashioned house which was the family residence of this branch of theSouth-Wessex Hardys. 

'Will the captain allow me to wait on him to-night?' inquired Loveday, explaining who and what he was. 

The servant went away for a few minutes, and then told Bob that he mightsee the captain in the morning. 

'If that's the case, I'll come again, ' replied Bob, quite cheerful thatfailure was not absolute. 

He had left the door but a few steps when he was called back and asked ifhe had walked all the way from Overcombe Mill on purpose. 

Loveday replied modestly that he had done so. 

'Then will you come in?' He followed the speaker into a small study oroffice, and in a minute or two Captain Hardy entered. 

The captain at this time was a bachelor of thirty-five, rather stout inbuild, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square broad face, plenty ofchin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness. Hesurveyed Loveday from top to toe. 

'Robert Loveday, sir, son of the miller at Overcombe, ' said Bob, making alow bow. 

'Ah! I remember your father, Loveday, ' the gallant seaman replied. 'Well, what do you want to say to me?' Seeing that Bob found it ratherdifficult to begin, he leant leisurely against the mantelpiece, and wenton, 'Is your father well and hearty? I have not seen him for many, manyyears. '

'Quite well, thank 'ee. '

'You used to have a brother in the army, I think? What was hisname--John? A very fine fellow, if I recollect. '

'Yes, cap'n; he's there still. '

'And you are in the merchant-service?'

'Late first mate of the brig Pewit. '

'How is it you're not on board a man-of-war?'

'Ay, sir, that's the thing I've come about, ' said Bob, recoveringconfidence. 'I should have been, but 'tis womankind has hampered me. I've waited and waited on at home because of a young woman--lady, I mighthave said, for she's sprung from a higher class of society than I. Herfather was a landscape painter--maybe you've heard of him, sir? The nameis Garland. '

'He painted that view of our village here, ' said Captain Hardy, lookingtowards a dark little picture in the corner of the room. 

Bob looked, and went on, as if to the picture, 'Well, sir, I have foundthat-- However, the press-gang came a week or two ago, and didn't gethold of me. I didn't care to go aboard as a pressed man. '

'There has been a severe impressment. It is of course a disagreeablenecessity, but it can't be helped. '

'Since then, sir, something has happened that makes me wish they hadfound me, and I have come to-night to ask if I could enter on board yourship the Victory. '

The captain shook his head severely, and presently observed: 'I am gladto find that you think of entering the service, Loveday; smart men arebadly wanted. But it will not be in your power to choose your ship. '

'Well, well, sir; then I must take my chance elsewhere, ' said Bob, hisface indicating the disappointment he would not fully express. ''Twasonly that I felt I would much rather serve under you than anybody else, my father and all of us being known to ye, Captain Hardy, and ourfamilies belonging to the same parts. '

Captain Hardy took Bob's altitude more carefully. 'Are you a goodpractical seaman?' he asked musingly. 

'Ay, sir; I believe I am. '

'Active? Fond of skylarking?'

'Well, I don't know about the last. I think I can say I am activeenough. I could walk the yard-arm, if required, cross from mast to mastby the stays, and do what most fellows do who call themselves spry. '

The captain then put some questions about the details of navigation, which Loveday, having luckily been used to square rigs, answeredsatisfactorily. 'As to reefing topsails, ' he added, 'if I don't do itlike a flash of lightning, I can do it so that they will stand blowingweather. The Pewit was not a dull vessel, and when we were convoyed homefrom Lisbon, she could keep well in sight of the frigate scudding at adistance, by putting on full sail. We had enough hands aboard to reeftopsails man-o'-war fashion, which is a rare thing in these days, sir, now that able seamen are so scarce on trading craft. And I hear that menfrom square-rigged vessels are liked much the best in the navy, as beingmore ready for use? So that I shouldn't be altogether so raw, ' said Bobearnestly, 'if I could enter on your ship, sir. Still, if I can't, Ican't. '

'I might ask for you, Loveday, ' said the captain thoughtfully, 'and soget you there that way. In short, I think I may say I will ask for you. So consider it settled. '

'My thanks to you, sir, ' said Loveday. 

'You are aware that the Victory is a smart ship, and that cleanliness andorder are, of necessity, more strictly insisted upon there than in someothers?'

'Sir, I quite see it. '

'Well, I hope you will do your duty as well on a line-of-battle ship asyou did when mate of the brig, for it is a duty that may be serious. '

Bob replied that it should be his one endeavour; and receiving a fewinstructions for getting on board the guard-ship, and being conveyed toPortsmouth, he turned to go away. 

'You'll have a stiff walk before you fetch Overcombe Mill this darknight, Loveday, ' concluded the captain, peering out of the window. 'I'llsend you in a glass of grog to help 'ee on your way. '

The captain then left Bob to himself, and when he had drunk the grog thatwas brought in he started homeward, with a heart not exactly light, butlarge with a patriotic cheerfulness, which had not diminished when, afterwalking so fast in his excitement as to be beaded with perspiration, heentered his father's door. 

They were all sitting up for him, and at his approach anxiously raisedtheir sleepy eyes, for it was nearly eleven o'clock. 

'There; I knew he'd not be much longer!' cried Anne, jumping up andlaughing, in her relief. 'They have been thinking you were very strangeand silent to-day, Bob; you were not, were you?'

'What's the matter, Bob?' said the miller; for Bob's countenance wassublimed by his recent interview, like that of a priest just come fromthe penetralia of the temple. 

'He's in his mate's clothes, just as when he came home!' observed Mrs. Loveday. 

They all saw now that he had something to tell. 'I am going away, ' hesaid when he had sat down. 'I am going to enter on board a man-of-war, and perhaps it will be the Victory. '

'Going?' said Anne faintly. 

'Now, don't you mind it, there's a dear, ' he went on solemnly, taking herhand in his own. 'And you, father, don't you begin to take it to heart'(the miller was looking grave). 'The press-gang has been here, andthough I showed them that I was a free man, I am going to show everybodythat I can do my duty. '

Neither of the other three answered, Anne and the miller having theireyes bent upon the ground, and the former trying to repress her tears. 

'Now don't you grieve, either of you, ' he continued; 'nor vex yourselvesthat this has happened. Please not to be angry with me, father, fordeserting you and the mill, where you want me, for I _must go_. Forthese three years we and the rest of the country have been in fear of theenemy; trade has been hindered; poor folk made hungry; and many rich folkmade poor. There must be a deliverance, and it must be done by sea. Ihave seen Captain Hardy, and I shall serve under him if so be I can. '

'Captain Hardy?'

'Yes. I have been to his house at Pos'ham, where he's staying with hissisters; walked there and back, and I wouldn't have missed it for fiftyguineas. I hardly thought he would see me; but he did see me. And hehasn't forgot you. '

Bob then opened his tale in order, relating graphically the conversationto which he had been a party, and they listened with breathlessattention. 

'Well, if you must go, you must, ' said the miller with emotion; 'but Ithink it somewhat hard that, of my two sons, neither one of 'em can begot to stay and help me in my business as I get old. '

'Don't trouble and vex about it, ' said Mrs. Loveday soothingly. 'Theyare both instruments in the hands of Providence, chosen to chastise thatCorsican ogre, and do what they can for the country in these tryingyears. '

'That's just the shape of it, Mrs. Loveday, ' said Bob. 

'And he'll come back soon, ' she continued, turning to Anne. 'And thenhe'll tell us all he has seen, and the glory that he's won, and how hehas helped to sweep that scourge Buonaparty off the earth. '

'When be you going, Bob?' his father inquired. 

'To-morrow, if I can. I shall call at the barracks and tell John as I goby. When I get to Portsmouth--'

A burst of sobs in quick succession interrupted his words; they came fromAnne, who till that moment had been sitting as before with her hand inthat of Bob, and apparently quite calm. Mrs. Loveday jumped up, butbefore she could say anything to soothe the agitated girl she had calmedherself with the same singular suddenness that had marked her giving way. 'I don't mind Bob's going, ' she said. 'I think he ought to go. Don'tsuppose, Bob, that I want you to stay!'

After this she left the apartment, and went into the little side roomwhere she and her mother usually worked. In a few moments Bob followedher. When he came back he was in a very sad and emotional mood. Anybodycould see that there had been a parting of profound anguish to both. 

'She is not coming back to-night, ' he said. 

'You will see her to-morrow before you go?' said her mother. 

'I may or I may not, ' he replied. 'Father and Mrs. Loveday, do you go tobed now. I have got to look over my things and get ready; and it willtake me some little time. If you should hear noises you will know it isonly myself moving about. '

When Bob was left alone he suddenly became brisk, and set himself tooverhaul his clothes and other possessions in a business-like manner. Bythe time that his chest was packed, such things as he meant to leave athome folded into cupboards, and what was useless destroyed, it was pasttwo o'clock. Then he went to bed, so softly that only the creak of oneweak stair revealed his passage upward. At the moment that he passedAnne's chamber-door her mother was bending over her as she lay in bed, and saying to her, 'Won't you see him in the morning?'

'No, no, ' said Anne. 'I would rather not see him! I have said that Imay. But I shall not. I cannot see him again!'

When the family got up next day Bob had vanished. It was his way todisappear like this, to avoid affecting scenes at parting. By the timethat they had sat down to a gloomy breakfast, Bob was in the boat of aBudmouth waterman, who pulled him alongside the guardship in the roads, where he laid hold of the man-rope, mounted, and disappeared fromexternal view. In the course of the day the ship moved off, set herroyals, and made sail for Portsmouth, with five hundred new hands for theservice on board, consisting partly of pressed men and partly ofvolunteers, among the latter being Robert Loveday. 

XXXIV. A SPECK ON THE SEA

In parting from John, who accompanied him to the quay, Bob had said:'Now, Jack, these be my last words to you: I give her up. I go away onpurpose, and I shall be away a long time. If in that time she shouldlist over towards ye ever so little, mind you take her. You have moreright to her than I. You chose her when my mind was elsewhere, and youbest deserve her; for I have never known you forget one woman, while I'veforgot a dozen. Take her then, if she will come, and God bless both ofye. '

Another person besides John saw Bob go. That was Derriman, who wasstanding by a bollard a little further up the quay. He did not represshis satisfaction at the sight. John looked towards him with an open gazeof contempt; for the cuffs administered to the yeoman at the inn had not, so far as the trumpet-major was aware, produced any desire to avenge thatinsult, John being, of course, quite ignorant that Festus had erroneouslyretaliated upon Bob, in his peculiar though scarcely soldierly way. Finding that he did not even now approach him, John went on his way, andthought over his intention of preserving intact the love between Anne andhis brother. 

He was surprised when he next went to the mill to find how glad they allwere to see him. From the moment of Bob's return to the bosom of thedeep Anne had had no existence on land; people might have looked at herhuman body and said she had flitted thence. The sea and all thatbelonged to the sea was her daily thought and her nightly dream. She hadthe whole two-and-thirty winds under her eye, each passing gale thatushered in returning autumn being mentally registered; and she acquired aprecise knowledge of the direction in which Portsmouth, Brest, Ferrol, Cadiz, and other such likely places lay. Instead of saying her ownfamiliar prayers at night she substituted, with some confusion ofthought, the Forms of Prayer to be used at sea. John at once noticed herlorn, abstracted looks, pitied her, --how much he pitied her!--and askedwhen they were alone if there was anything he could do. 

'There are two things, ' she said, with almost childish eagerness in hertired eyes. 

'They shall be done. '

'The first is to find out if Captain Hardy has gone back to his ship; andthe other is--O if you will do it, John!--to get me newspapers wheneverpossible. '

After this duologue John was absent for a space of three hours, and theythought he had gone back to barracks. He entered, however, at the end ofthat time, took off his forage-cap, and wiped his forehead. 

'You look tired, John, ' said his father. 

'O no. ' He went through the house till he had found Anne Garland. 

'I have only done one of those things, ' he said to her. 

'What, already! I didn't hope for or mean to-day. '

'Captain Hardy is gone from Pos'ham. He left some days ago. We shallsoon hear that the fleet has sailed. '

'You have been all the way to Pos'ham on purpose? How good of you!'

'Well, I was anxious to know myself when Bob is likely to leave. Iexpect now that we shall soon hear from him. '

Two days later he came again. He brought a newspaper, and what wasbetter, a letter for Anne, franked by the first lieutenant of theVictory. 

'Then he's aboard her, ' said Anne, as she eagerly took the letter. 

It was short, but as much as she could expect in the circumstances, andinformed them that the captain had been as good as his word, and hadgratified Bob's earnest wish to serve under him. The ship, with AdmiralLord Nelson on board, and accompanied by the frigate Euryalus, was tosail in two days for Plymouth, where they would be joined by others, andthence proceed to the coast of Spain. 

Anne lay awake that night thinking of the Victory, and of those whofloated in her. To the best of Anne's calculation that ship of warwould, during the next twenty-four hours, pass within a few miles ofwhere she herself then lay. Next to seeing Bob, the thing that wouldgive her more pleasure than any other in the world was to see the vesselthat contained him--his floating city, his sole dependence in battle andstorm--upon whose safety from winds and enemies hung all her hope. 

The morrow was market-day at the seaport, and in this she saw heropportunity. A carrier went from Overcombe at six o'clock thither, andhaving to do a little shopping for herself she gave it as a reason forher intended day's absence, and took a place in the van. When shereached the town it was still early morning, but the borough was alreadyin the zenith of its daily bustle and show. The King was always out-of-doors by six o'clock, and such cock-crow hours at Gloucester Lodgeproduced an equally forward stir among the population. She alighted, andpassed down the esplanade, as fully thronged by persons of fashion atthis time of mist and level sunlight as a watering-place in the presentday is at four in the afternoon. Dashing bucks and beaux in cocked hats, black feathers, ruffles, and frills, stared at her as she hurried along;the beach was swarming with bathing women, wearing waistbands that borethe national refrain, 'God save the King, ' in gilt letters; the shopswere all open, and Sergeant Stanner, with his sword-stuck bank-notes andheroic gaze, was beating up at two guineas and a crown, the crown todrink his Majesty's health. 

She soon finished her shopping, and then, crossing over into the oldtown, pursued her way along the coast-road to Portland. At the end of anhour she had been rowed across the Fleet (which then lacked theconvenience of a bridge), and reached the base of Portland Hill. Thesteep incline before her was dotted with houses, showing the pleasantpeculiarity of one man's doorstep being behind his neighbour's chimney, and slabs of stone as the common material for walls, roof, floor, pig-sty, stable-manger, door-scraper, and garden-stile. Anne gained thesummit, and followed along the central track over the huge lump offreestone which forms the peninsula, the wide sea prospect extending asshe went on. Weary with her journey, she approached the extremesoutherly peak of rock, and gazed from the cliff at Portland Bill, orBeal, as it was in those days more correctly called. 

The wild, herbless, weather-worn promontory was quite a solitude, and, saving the one old lighthouse about fifty yards up the slope, scarce amark was visible to show that humanity had ever been near the spot. Annefound herself a seat on a stone, and swept with her eyes the tremulousexpanse of water around her that seemed to utter a ceaselessunintelligible incantation. Out of the three hundred and sixty degreesof her complete horizon two hundred and fifty were covered by waves, thecoup d'oeil including the area of troubled waters known as the Race, where two seas met to effect the destruction of such vessels as could notbe mastered by one. She counted the craft within her view: there werefive; no, there were only four; no, there were seven, some of the speckshaving resolved themselves into two. They were all small coasters, andkept well within sight of land. 

Anne sank into a reverie. Then she heard a slight noise on her lefthand, and turning beheld an old sailor, who had approached with a glass. He was levelling it over the sea in a direction to the south-east, andsomewhat removed from that in which her own eyes had been wandering. Annemoved a few steps thitherward, so as to unclose to her view a deepersweep on that side, and by this discovered a ship of far larger size thanany which had yet dotted the main before her. Its sails were for themost part new and clean, and in comparison with its rapid progress beforethe wind the small brigs and ketches seemed standing still. Upon thisstriking object the old man's glass was bent. 

'What do you see, sailor?' she asked. 

'Almost nothing, ' he answered. 'My sight is so gone off lately thatthings, one and all, be but a November mist to me. And yet I fain wouldsee to-day. I am looking for the Victory. '

'Why, ' she said quickly. 

'I have a son aboard her. He's one of three from these parts. There'sthe captain, there's my son Ned, and there's young Loveday ofOvercombe--he that lately joined. '

'Shall I look for you?' said Anne, after a pause. 

'Certainly, mis'ess, if so be you please. '

Anne took the glass, and he supported it by his arm. 'It is a largeship, ' she said, 'with three masts, three rows of guns along the side, and all her sails set. '

'I guessed as much. '

'There is a little flag in front--over her bowsprit. '

'The jack. '

'And there's a large one flying at her stern. '

'The ensign. '

'And a white one on her fore-topmast. '

'That's the admiral's flag, the flag of my Lord Nelson. What is herfigure-head, my dear?'

'A coat-of-arms, supported on this side by a sailor. '

Her companion nodded with satisfaction. 'On the other side of thatfigure-head is a marine. '

'She is twisting round in a curious way, and her sails sink in like oldcheeks, and she shivers like a leaf upon a tree. '

'She is in stays, for the larboard tack. I can see what she's beendoing. She's been re'ching close in to avoid the flood tide, as the windis to the sou'-west, and she's bound down; but as soon as the ebb made, d'ye see, they made sail to the west'ard. Captain Hardy may be dependedupon for that; he knows every current about here, being a native. '

'And now I can see the other side; it is a soldier where a sailor wasbefore. You are _sure_ it is the Victory?'

'I am sure. '

After this a frigate came into view--the Euryalus--sailing in the samedirection. Anne sat down, and her eyes never left the ships. 'Tell memore about the Victory, ' she said. 

'She is the best sailer in the service, and she carries a hundred guns. The heaviest be on the lower deck, the next size on the middle deck, thenext on the main and upper decks. My son Ned's place is on the lowerdeck, because he's short, and they put the short men below. '

Bob, though not tall, was not likely to be specially selected forshortness. She pictured him on the upper deck, in his snow-whitetrousers and jacket of navy blue, looking perhaps towards the very pointof land where she then was. 

The great silent ship, with her population of blue-jackets, marines, officers, captain, and the admiral who was not to return alive, passedlike a phantom the meridian of the Bill. Sometimes her aspect was thatof a large white bat, sometimes that of a grey one. In the course oftime the watching girl saw that the ship had passed her nearest point;the breadth of her sails diminished by foreshortening, till she assumedthe form of an egg on end. After this something seemed to twinkle, andAnne, who had previously withdrawn from the old sailor, went back to him, and looked again through the glass. The twinkling was the light fallingupon the cabin windows of the ship's stern. She explained it to the oldman. 

'Then we see now what the enemy have seen but once. That was in seventy-nine, when she sighted the French and Spanish fleet off Scilly, and sheretreated because she feared a landing. Well, 'tis a brave ship and shecarries brave men!'

Anne's tender bosom heaved, but she said nothing, and again becameabsorbed in contemplation. 

The Victory was fast dropping away. She was on the horizon, and soonappeared hull down. That seemed to be like the beginning of a greaterend than her present vanishing. Anne Garland could not stay by thesailor any longer, and went about a stone's-throw off, where she washidden by the inequality of the cliff from his view. The vessel was nowexactly end on, and stood out in the direction of the Start, her widthhaving contracted to the proportion of a feather. She sat down again, and mechanically took out some biscuits that she had brought, foreseeingthat her waiting might be long. But she could not eat one of them;eating seemed to jar with the mental tenseness of the moment; and herundeviating gaze continued to follow the lessened ship with the fidelityof a balanced needle to a magnetic stone, all else in her beingmotionless. 

The courses of the Victory were absorbed into the main, then her topsailswent, and then her top-gallants. She was now no more than a dead fly'swing on a sheet of spider's web; and even this fragment diminished. Annecould hardly bear to see the end, and yet she resolved not to flinch. Theadmiral's flag sank behind the watery line, and in a minute the verytruck of the last topmast stole away. The Victory was gone. 

Anne's lip quivered as she murmured, without removing her wet eyes fromthe vacant and solemn horizon, '"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters--"'

'"These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep, "' wasreturned by a man's voice from behind her. 

Looking round quickly, she saw a soldier standing there; and the graveeyes of John Loveday bent on her. 

''Tis what I was thinking, ' she said, trying to be composed. 

'You were saying it, ' he answered gently. 

'Was I?--I did not know it. . . . How came you here?' she presentlyadded. 

'I have been behind you a good while; but you never turned round. '

'I was deeply occupied, ' she said in an undertone. 

'Yes--I too came to see him pass. I heard this morning that Lord Nelsonhad embarked, and I knew at once that they would sail immediately. TheVictory and Euryalus are to join the rest of the fleet at Plymouth. Therewas a great crowd of people assembled to see the admiral off; theycheered him and the ship as she dropped down. He took his coffin onboard with him, they say. '

'His coffin!' said Anne, turning deadly pale. 'Something terrible, then, is meant by that! O, why _would_ Bob go in that ship? doomed todestruction from the very beginning like this!'

'It was his determination to sail under Captain Hardy, and under no oneelse, ' said John. 'There may be hot work; but we must hope for thebest. ' And observing how wretched she looked, he added, 'But won't youlet me help you back? If you can walk as far as Hope Cove it will beenough. A lerret is going from there across the bay homeward to theharbour in the course of an hour; it belongs to a man I know, and theycan take one passenger, I am sure. '

She turned her back upon the Channel, and by his help soon reached theplace indicated. The boat was lying there as he had said. She found itto belong to the old man who had been with her at the Bill, and was incharge of his two younger sons. The trumpet-major helped her into itover the slippery blocks of stone, one of the young men spread his jacketfor her to sit on, and as soon as they pulled from shore John climbed upthe blue-grey cliff, and disappeared over the top, to return to themainland by road. 

Anne was in the town by three o'clock. The trip in the stern of thelerret had quite refreshed her, with the help of the biscuits, which shehad at last been able to eat. The van from the port to Overcombe did notstart till four o'clock, and feeling no further interest in the gaietiesof the place, she strolled on past the King's house to the outskirts, hermind settling down again upon the possibly sad fate of the Victory whenshe found herself alone. She did not hurry on; and finding that even nowthere wanted another half-hour to the carrier's time, she turned into alittle lane to escape the inspection of the numerous passers-by. Hereall was quite lonely and still, and she sat down under a willow-tree, absently regarding the landscape, which had begun to put on the richtones of declining summer, but which to her was as hollow and faded as atheatre by day. She could hold out no longer; burying her face in herhands, she wept without restraint. 

Some yards behind her was a little spring of water, having a stone marginround it to prevent the cattle from treading in the sides and filling itup with dirt. While she wept, two elderly gentlemen entered unperceivedupon the scene, and walked on to the spring's brink. Here they pausedand looked in, afterwards moving round it, and then stooping as if tosmell or taste its waters. The spring was, in fact, a sulphurous one, then recently discovered by a physician who lived in the neighbourhood;and it was beginning to attract some attention, having by common reportcontributed to effect such wonderful cures as almost passed belief. Aftera considerable discussion, apparently on how the pool might be improvedfor better use, one of the two elderly gentlemen turned away, leaving theother still probing the spring with his cane. The first stranger, whowore a blue coat with gilt buttons, came on in the direction of AnneGarland, and seeing her sad posture went quickly up to her, and saidabruptly, 'What is the matter?'

Anne, who in her grief had observed nothing of the gentlemen's presence, withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes and started to her feet. Sheinstantly recognised her interrogator as the King. 

'What, what, crying?' his Majesty inquired kindly. 'How is this!'

'I--have seen a dear friend go away, sir, ' she faltered, with downcasteyes. 

'Ah--partings are sad--very sad--for us all. You must hope your friendwill return soon. Where is he or she gone?'

'I don't know, your Majesty. '

'Don't know--how is that?'

'He is a sailor on board the Victory. '

'Then he has reason to be proud, ' said the King with interest. 'He isyour brother?'

Anne tried to explain what he was, but could not, and blushed withpainful heat. 

'Well, well, well; what is his name?'

In spite of Anne's confusion and low spirits, her womanly shrewdness toldher at once that no harm could be done by revealing Bob's name; and sheanswered, 'His name is Robert Loveday, sir. '

'Loveday--a good name. I shall not forget it. Now dry your cheeks, anddon't cry any more. Loveday--Robert Loveday. '

Anne curtseyed, the King smiled good-humouredly, and turned to rejoin hiscompanion, who was afterwards heard to be Dr. ---, the physician inattendance at Gloucester Lodge. This gentleman had in the meantimefilled a small phial with the medicinal water, which he carefully placedin his pocket; and on the King coming up they retired together anddisappeared. Thereupon Anne, now thoroughly aroused, followed the sameway with a gingerly tread, just in time to see them get into a carriagewhich was in waiting at the turning of the lane. 

She quite forgot the carrier, and everything else in connexion withriding home. Flying along the road rapidly and unconsciously, when sheawoke to a sense of her whereabouts she was so near to Overcombe as tomake the carrier not worth waiting for. She had been borne up in thishasty spurt at the end of a weary day by visions of Bob promoted to therank of admiral, or something equally wonderful, by the King's specialcommand, the chief result of the promotion being, in her arrangement ofthe piece, that he would stay at home and go to sea no more. But she wasnot a girl who indulged in extravagant fancies long, and before shereached home she thought that the King had probably forgotten her by thattime, and her troubles, and her lover's name. 

XXXV. A SAILOR ENTERS

The remaining fortnight of the month of September passed away, with ageneral decline from the summer's excitements. The royal family left thewatering-place the first week in October, the German Legion with theirartillery about the same time. The dragoons still remained at thebarracks just out of the town, and John Loveday brought to Anne everynewspaper that he could lay hands on, especially such as contained anyfragment of shipping news. This threw them much together; and at thesetimes John was often awkward and confused, on account of the unwontedstress of concealing his great love for her. 

Her interests had grandly developed from the limits of Overcombe and thetown life hard by, to an extensiveness truly European. During the wholemonth of October, however, not a single grain of information reached her, or anybody else, concerning Nelson and his blockading squadron off Cadiz. There were the customary bad jokes about Buonaparte, especially when itwas found that the whole French army had turned its back upon Boulogneand set out for the Rhine. Then came accounts of his march throughGermany and into Austria; but not a word about the Victory. 

At the beginning of autumn John brought news which fearfully depressedher. The Austrian General Mack had capitulated with his whole army. Thenwere revived the old misgivings as to invasion. 'Instead of having tocope with him weary with waiting, we shall have to encounter This Manfresh from the fields of victory, ' ran the newspaper article. 

But the week which had led off with such a dreary piping was to end inanother key. On the very day when Mack's army was piling arms at thefeet of its conqueror, a blow had been struck by Bob Loveday and hiscomrades which eternally shattered the enemy's force by sea. Four daysafter the receipt of the Austrian news Corporal Tullidge ran into themiller's house to inform him that on the previous Monday, at eleven inthe morning, the Pickle schooner, Lieutenant Lapenotiere, had arrived atFalmouth with despatches from the fleet; that the stage-coaches on thehighway through Wessex to London were chalked with the words 'GreatVictory!' 'Glorious Triumph!' and so on; and that all the country peoplewere wild to know particulars. 

On Friday afternoon John arrived with authentic news of the battle offCape Trafalgar, and the death of Nelson. Captain Hardy was alive, thoughhis escape had been narrow enough, his shoe-buckle having been carriedaway by a shot. It was feared that the Victory had been the scene of theheaviest slaughter among all the ships engaged, but as yet no returns ofkilled and wounded had been issued, beyond a rough list of the numbers insome of the ships. 

The suspense of the little household in Overcombe Mill was great in theextreme. John came thither daily for more than a week; but no furtherparticulars reached England till the end of that time, and then only themeagre intelligence that there had been a gale immediately after thebattle, and that many of the prizes had been lost. Anne said little toall these things, and preserved a superstratum of calmness on hercountenance; but some inner voice seemed to whisper to her that Bob wasno more. Miller Loveday drove to Pos'ham several times to learn if theCaptain's sisters had received any more definite tidings than theseflying reports; but that family had heard nothing which could in any wayrelieve the miller's anxiety. When at last, at the end of November, there appeared a final and revised list of killed and wounded as issuedby Admiral Collingwood, it was a useless sheet to the Lovedays. To theirgreat pain it contained no names but those of officers, the friends ofordinary seamen and marines being in those good old days left to discovertheir losses as best they might. 

Anne's conviction of her loss increased with the darkening of the earlywinter time. Bob was not a cautious man who would avoid needlessexposure, and a hundred and fifty of the Victory's crew had been disabledor slain. Anybody who had looked into her room at this time would haveseen that her favourite reading was the office for the Burial of the Deadat Sea, beginning 'We therefore commit his body to the deep. ' In thesefirst days of December several of the victorious fleet came into port;but not the Victory. Many supposed that that noble ship, disabled by thebattle, had gone to the bottom in the subsequent tempestuous weather; andthe belief was persevered in till it was told in the town and port thatshe had been seen passing up the Channel. Two days later the Victoryarrived at Portsmouth. 

Then letters from survivors began to appear in the public prints whichJohn so regularly brought to Anne; but though he watched the mails withunceasing vigilance there was never a letter from Bob. It sometimescrossed John's mind that his brother might still be alive and well, andthat in his wish to abide by his expressed intention of giving up Anneand home life he was deliberately lax in writing. If so, Bob wascarrying out the idea too thoughtlessly by half, as could be seen bywatching the effects of suspense upon the fair face of the victim, andthe anxiety of the rest of the family. 

It was a clear day in December. The first slight snow of the season hadbeen sifted over the earth, and one side of the apple-tree branches inthe miller's garden was touched with white, though a few leaves werestill lingering on the tops of the younger trees. A short sailor of theRoyal Navy, who was not Bob, nor anything like him, crossed the millcourt and came to the door. The miller hastened out and brought him intothe room, where John, Mrs. Loveday, and Anne Garland were all present. 

'I'm from aboard the Victory, ' said the sailor. 'My name's Jim Cornick. And your lad is alive and well. '

They breathed rather than spoke their thankfulness and relief, themiller's eyes being moist as he turned aside to calm himself; while Anne, having first jumped up wildly from her seat, sank back again under thealmost insupportable joy that trembled through her limbs to her utmostfinger. 

'I've come from Spithead to Pos'ham, ' the sailor continued, 'and now I amgoing on to father at Budmouth. '

'Ah!--I know your father, ' cried the trumpet-major, 'old James Cornick. '

It was the man who had brought Anne in his lerret from Portland Bill. 

'And Bob hasn't got a scratch?' said the miller. 

'Not a scratch, ' said Cornick. 

Loveday then bustled off to draw the visitor something to drink. AnneGarland, with a glowing blush on her face, had gone to the back part ofthe room, where she was the very embodiment of sweet content as sheslightly swayed herself without speaking. A little tide of happinessseemed to ebb and flow through her in listening to the sailor's words, moving her figure with it. The seaman and John went on conversing. 

'Bob had a good deal to do with barricading the hawse-holes afore we werein action, and the Adm'l and Cap'n both were very much pleased at how'twas done. When the Adm'l went up the quarter-deck ladder, Cap'n Hardysaid a word or two to Bob, but what it was I don't know, for I wasquartered at a gun some ways off. However, Bob saw the Adm'l staggerwhen 'a was wownded, and was one of the men who carried him to thecockpit. After that he and some other lads jumped aboard the Frenchship, and I believe they was in her when she struck her flag. What 'adid next I can't say, for the wind had dropped, and the smoke was like acloud. But 'a got a good deal talked about; and they say there'spromotion in store for'n. '

At this point in the story Jim Cornick stopped to drink, and a lowunconscious humming came from Anne in her distant corner; the faintmelody continued more or less when the conversation between the sailorand the Lovedays was renewed. 

'We heard afore that the Victory was near knocked to pieces, ' said themiller. 

'Knocked to pieces? You'd say so if so be you could see her! Gad, hersides be battered like an old penny piece; the shot be still sticking inher wales, and her sails be like so many clap-nets: we have run all theway home under jury topmasts; and as for her decks, you may swab wi' hotwater, and you may swab wi' cold, but there's the blood-stains, and therethey'll bide. . . . The Cap'n had a narrow escape, like many o' therest--a shot shaved his ankle like a razor. You should have seen thatman's face in the het o' battle, his features were as if they'd been castin steel. '

'We rather expected a letter from Bob before this. '

'Well, ' said Jim Cornick, with a smile of toleration, 'you must makeallowances. The truth o't is, he's engaged just now at Portsmouth, likea good many of the rest from our ship. . . . 'Tis a very nice youngwoman that he's a courting of, and I make no doubt that she'll be anexcellent wife for him. '

'Ah!' said Mrs. Loveday, in a warning tone. 

'Courting--wife?' said the miller. 

They instinctively looked towards Anne. Anne had started as if shaken byan invisible hand, and a thick mist of doubt seemed to obscure theintelligence of her eyes. This was but for two or three moments. Verypale, she arose and went right up to the seaman. John gently tried tointercept her, but she passed him by. 

'Do you speak of Robert Loveday as courting a wife?' she asked, withoutthe least betrayal of emotion. 

'I didn't see you, miss, ' replied Cornick, turning. 'Yes, your brotherhev' his eye on a wife, and he deserves one. I hope you don't mind?'

'Not in the least, ' she said, with a stage laugh. 'I am interested, naturally. And what is she?'

'A very nice young master-baker's daughter, honey. A very wise choice ofthe young man's. '

'Is she fair or dark?'

'Her hair is rather light. '

'I like light hair; and her name?'

'Her name is Caroline. But can it be that my story hurts ye? If so--'

'Yes, yes, ' said John, interposing anxiously. 'We don't care for morejust at this moment. '

'We _do_ care for more!' said Anne vehemently. 'Tell it all, sailor. That is a very pretty name, Caroline. When are they going to bemarried?'

'I don't know as how the day is settled, ' answered Jim, even now scarcelyconscious of the devastation he was causing in one fair breast. 'Butfrom the rate the courting is scudding along at, I should say it won't belong first. '

'If you see him when you go back, give him my best wishes, ' she lightlysaid, as she moved away. 'And, ' she added, with solemn bitterness, 'saythat I am glad to hear he is making such good use of the first days ofhis escape from the Valley of the Shadow of Death!' She went away, expressing indifference by audibly singing in the distance--

 'Shall we go dance the round, the round, the round, Shall we go dance the round?'

'Your sister is lively at the news, ' observed Jim Cornick. 

'Yes, ' murmured John gloomily, as he gnawed his lower lip and kept hiseyes fixed on the fire. 

'Well, ' continued the man from the Victory, 'I won't say that yourbrother's intended ha'n't got some ballast, which is very lucky for'n, ashe might have picked up with a girl without a single copper nail. To besure there was a time we had when we got into port! It was open housefor us all!' And after mentally regarding the scene for a few secondsJim emptied his cup and rose to go. 

The miller was saying some last words to him outside the house, Anne'svoice had hardly ceased singing upstairs, John was standing by thefireplace, and Mrs. Loveday was crossing the room to join her daughter, whose manner had given her some uneasiness, when a noise came from abovethe ceiling, as of some heavy body falling. Mrs. Loveday rushed to thestaircase, saying, 'Ah, I feared something!' and she was followed byJohn. 

When they entered Anne's room, which they both did almost at one moment, they found her lying insensible upon the floor. The trumpet-major, hislips tightly closed, lifted her in his arms, and laid her upon the bed;after which he went back to the door to give room to her mother, who wasbending over the girl with some hartshorn. 

Presently Mrs. Loveday looked up and said to him, 'She is only in afaint, John, and her colour is coming back. Now leave her to me; I willbe downstairs in a few minutes, and tell you how she is. '

John left the room. When he gained the lower apartment his father wasstanding by the chimney-piece, the sailor having gone. The trumpet-majorwent up to the fire, and, grasping the edge of the high chimney-shelf, stood silent. 

'Did I hear a noise when I went out?' asked the elder, in a tone ofmisgiving. 

'Yes, you did, ' said John. 'It was she, but her mother says she isbetter now. Father, ' he added impetuously, 'Bob is a worthlessblockhead! If there had been any good in him he would have been drownedyears ago!'

'John, John--not too fast, ' said the miller. 'That's a hard thing to sayof your brother, and you ought to be ashamed of it. '

'Well, he tries me more than I can bear. Good God! what can a man bemade of to go on as he does? Why didn't he come home; or if he couldn'tget leave why didn't he write? 'Tis scandalous of him to serve a womanlike that!'

'Gently, gently. The chap hev done his duty as a sailor; and thoughthere might have been something between him and Anne, her mother, intalking it over with me, has said many times that she couldn't think oftheir marrying till Bob had settled down in business with me. Folks thatgain victories must have a little liberty allowed 'em. Look at theAdmiral himself, for that matter. '

John continued looking at the red coals, till hearing Mrs. Loveday's footon the staircase, he went to meet her. 

'She is better, ' said Mrs. Loveday; 'but she won't come down again to-day. '

Could John have heard what the poor girl was moaning to herself at thatmoment as she lay writhing on the bed, he would have doubted her mother'sassurance. 'If he had been dead I could have borne it, but this I cannotbear!'

XXXVI. DERRIMAN SEES CHANCES

Meanwhile Sailor Cornick had gone on his way as far as the forking roads, where he met Festus Derriman on foot. The latter, attracted by theseaman's dress, and by seeing him come from the mill, at once accostedhim. Jim, with the greatest readiness, fell into conversation, and toldthe same story as that he had related at the mill. 

'Bob Loveday going to be married?' repeated Festus. 

'You all seem struck of a heap wi' that. '

'No; I never heard news that pleased me more. '

When Cornick was gone, Festus, instead of passing straight on, halted onthe little bridge and meditated. Bob, being now interested elsewhere, would probably not resent the siege of Anne's heart by another; therecould, at any rate, be no further possibility of that looming duel whichhad troubled the yeoman's mind ever since his horse-play on Anne at thehouse on the down. To march into the mill and propose to Mrs. Lovedayfor Anne before John's interest could revive in her was, to this hero'sthinking, excellent discretion. 

The day had already begun to darken when he entered, and the cheerfulfire shone red upon the floor and walls. Mrs. Loveday received himalone, and asked him to take a seat by the chimney-corner, a little ofthe old hankering for him as a son-in-law having permanently remainedwith her. 

'Your servant, Mrs. Loveday, ' he said, 'and I will tell you at once whatI come for. You will say that I take time by the forelock when I informyou that it is to push on my long-wished-for alliance wi' your daughter, as I believe she is now a free woman again. '

'Thank you, Mr. Derriman, ' said the mother placably. 'But she is ill atpresent. I'll mention it to her when she is better. '

'Ask her to alter her cruel, cruel resolves against me, on the scoreof--of my consuming passion for her. In short, ' continued Festus, dropping his parlour language in his warmth, 'I'll tell thee what, DameLoveday, I want the maid, and must have her. '

Mrs. Loveday replied that that was very plain speaking. 

'Well, 'tis. But Bob has given her up. He never meant to marry her. I'll tell you, Mrs. Loveday, what I have never told a soul before. I wasstanding upon Budmouth Quay on that very day in last September that Bobset sail, and I heard him say to his brother John that he gave yourdaughter up. '

'Then it was very unmannerly of him to trifle with her so, ' said Mrs. Loveday warmly. 'Who did he give her up to?'

Festus replied with hesitation, 'He gave her up to John. '

'To John? How could he give her up to a man already over head and earsin love with that actress woman?'

'O? You surprise me. Which actress is it?'

'That Miss Johnson. Anne tells me that he loves her hopelessly. '

Festus arose. Miss Johnson seemed suddenly to acquire high value as asweetheart at this announcement. He had himself felt a namelessattractiveness in her, and John had done likewise. John crossed his pathin all possible ways. 

Before the yeoman had replied somebody opened the door, and the firelightshone upon the uniform of the person they discussed. Festus nodded onrecognizing him, wished Mrs. Loveday good evening, and went outprecipitately. 

'So Bob told you he meant to break off with my Anne when he went away?'Mrs. Loveday remarked to the trumpet-major. 'I wish I had known of itbefore. '

John appeared disturbed at the sudden charge. He murmured that he couldnot deny it, and then hastily turned from her and followed Derriman, whomhe saw before him on the bridge. 

'Derriman!' he shouted. 

Festus started and looked round. 'Well, trumpet-major, ' he said blandly. 

'When will you have sense enough to mind your own business, and not comehere telling things you have heard by sneaking behind people's backs?'demanded John hotly. 'If you can't learn in any other way, I shall haveto pull your ears again, as I did the other day!'

'_You_ pull my ears? How can you tell that lie, when you know 'twassomebody else pulled 'em?'

'O no, no. I pulled your ears, and thrashed you in a mild way. '

'You'll swear to it? Surely 'twas another man?'

'It was in the parlour at the public-house; you were almost in the dark. 'And John added a few details as to the particular blows, which amountedto proof itself. 

'Then I heartily ask your pardon for saying 'twas a lie!' cried Festus, advancing with extended hand and a genial smile. 'Sure, if I had known_'twas_ you, I wouldn't have insulted you by denying it. '

'That was why you didn't challenge me, then?'

'That was it! I wouldn't for the world have hurt your nice sense ofhonour by letting 'ee go unchallenged, if I had known! And now, you see, unfortunately I can't mend the mistake. So long a time has passed sinceit happened that the heat of my temper is gone off. I couldn't oblige'ee, try how I might, for I am not a man, trumpet-major, that can butcherin cold blood--no, not I, nor you neither, from what I know of 'ee. So, willy-nilly, we must fain let it pass, eh?'

'We must, I suppose, ' said John, smiling grimly. 'Who did you think Iwas, then, that night when I boxed you all round?'

'No, don't press me, ' replied the yeoman. 'I can't reveal; it would bedisgracing myself to show how very wide of the truth the mockery of winewas able to lead my senses. We will let it be buried in eternal mixensof forgetfulness. '

'As you wish, ' said the trumpet-major loftily. 'But if you ever _should_think you knew it was me, why, you know where to find me?' And Lovedaywalked away. 

The instant that he was gone Festus shook his fist at the evening star, which happened to lie in the same direction as that taken by the dragoon. 

'Now for my revenge! Duels? Lifelong disgrace to me if ever I fightwith a man of blood below my own! There are other remedies for upper-class souls!. . . Matilda--that's my way. '

Festus strode along till he reached the Hall, where Cripplestraw appearedgazing at him from under the arch of the porter's lodge. Derriman dashedopen the entrance-hurdle with such violence that the whole row of themfell flat in the mud. 

'Mercy, Maister Festus!' said Cripplestraw. '"Surely, " I says to myselfwhen I see ye a-coming, "surely Maister Festus is fuming like thatbecause there's no chance of the enemy coming this year after all. "'

'Cr-r-ripplestraw! I have been wounded to the heart, ' replied Derriman, with a lurid brow. 

'And the man yet lives, and you wants yer horse-pistols instantly?Certainly, Maister F---'

'No, Cripplestraw, not my pistols, but my new-cut clothes, my heavy goldseals, my silver-topped cane, and my buckles that cost more money than heever saw! Yes, I must tell somebody, and I'll tell you, because there'sno other fool near. He loves her heart and soul. He's poor; she's tip-top genteel, and not rich. I am rich, by comparison. I'll court thepretty play-actress, and win her before his eyes. '

'Play-actress, Maister Derriman?'

'Yes. I saw her this very day, met her by accident, and spoke to her. She's still in the town--perhaps because of him. I can meet her at anyhour of the day-- But I don't mean to marry her; not I. I will courther for my pastime, and to annoy him. It will be all the more death tohim that I don't want her. Then perhaps he will say to me, "You havetaken my one ewe lamb"--meaning that I am the king, and he's the poorman, as in the church verse; and he'll beg for mercy when 'tis toolate--unless, meanwhile, I shall have tired of my new toy. Saddle thehorse, Cripplestraw, to-morrow at ten. '

Full of this resolve to scourge John Loveday to the quick through hispassion for Miss Johnson, Festus came out booted and spurred at the timeappointed, and set off on his morning ride. 

Miss Johnson's theatrical engagement having long ago terminated, shewould have left the Royal watering-place with the rest of the visitorshad not matrimonial hopes detained her there. These had nothing whateverto do with John Loveday, as may be imagined, but with a stout, staid boat-builder in Cove Row by the quay, who had shown much interest in herimpersonations. Unfortunately this substantial man had not been quite soattentive since the end of the season as his previous manner led her toexpect; and it was a great pleasure to the lady to see Mr. Derrimanleaning over the harbour bridge with his eyes fixed upon her as she cametowards it after a stroll past her elderly wooer's house. 

'Od take it, ma'am, you didn't tell me when I saw you last that thetooting man with the blue jacket and lace was yours devoted?' beganFestus. 

'Who do you mean?' In Matilda's ever-changing emotional interests, JohnLoveday was a stale and unprofitable personality. 

'Why, that trumpet-major man. '

'O! What of him?'

'Come; he loves you, and you know it, ma'am. '

She knew, at any rate, how to take the current when it served. So sheglanced at Festus, folded her lips meaningly, and nodded. 

'I've come to cut him out. '

She shook her head, it being unsafe to speak till she knew a little moreof the subject. 

'What!' said Festus, reddening, 'do you mean to say that you think of himseriously--you, who might look so much higher?'

'Constant dropping will wear away a stone; and you should only hear hispleading! His handsome face is impressive, and his manners are--O, sogenteel! I am not rich; I am, in short, a poor lady of decayed family, who has nothing to boast of but my blood and ancestors, and they won'tfind a body in food and clothing!--I hold the world but as the world, Derrimanio--a stage where every man must play a part, and mine a sadone!' She dropped her eyes thoughtfully and sighed. 

'We will talk of this, ' said Festus, much affected. 'Let us walk to theLook-out. '

She made no objection, and said, as they turned that way, 'Mr. Derriman, a long time ago I found something belonging to you; but I have never yetremembered to return it. ' And she drew from her bosom the paper whichAnne had dropped in the meadow when eluding the grasp of Festus on thatsummer day. 

'Zounds, I smell fresh meat!' cried Festus when he had looked it over. ''Tis in my uncle's writing, and 'tis what I heard him singing on the daythe French didn't come, and afterwards saw him marking in the road. 'Tissomething he's got hid away. Give me the paper, there's a dear; 'tisworth sterling gold!'

'Halves, then?' said Matilda tenderly. 

'Gad, yes--anything!' replied Festus, blazing into a smile, for she hadlooked up in her best new manner at the possibility that he might beworth the winning. They went up the steps to the summit of the cliff, and dwindled over it against the sky. 

XXXVII. REACTION

There was no letter from Bob, though December had passed, and the newyear was two weeks old. His movements were, however, pretty accuratelyregistered in the papers, which John still brought, but which Anne nolonger read. During the second week in December the Victory sailed forSheerness, and on the 9th of the following January the public funeral ofLord Nelson took place in St. Paul's. 

Then there came a meagre line addressed to the family in general. Bob'snew Portsmouth attachment was not mentioned, but he told them he had beenone of the eight-and-forty seamen who walked two-and-two in the funeralprocession, and that Captain Hardy had borne the banner of emblems on thesame occasion. The crew was soon to be paid off at Chatham, when hethought of returning to Portsmouth for a few days to see a valued friend. After that he should come home. 

But the spring advanced without bringing him, and John watched AnneGarland's desolation with augmenting desire to do something towardsconsoling her. The old feelings, so religiously held in check, werestimulated to rebelliousness, though they did not show themselves in anydirect manner as yet. 

The miller, in the meantime, who seldom interfered in such matters, wasobserved to look meaningly at Anne and the trumpet-major from day to day;and by-and-by he spoke privately to John. 

His words were short and to the point: Anne was very melancholy; she hadthought too much of Bob. Now 'twas plain that they had lost him for manyyears to come. Well; he had always felt that of the two he would ratherJohn married her. Now John might settle down there, and succeed whereBob had failed. 'So if you could get her, my sonny, to think less of himand more of thyself, it would be a good thing for all. '

An inward excitement had risen in John; but he suppressed it and saidfirmly--

'Fairness to Bob before everything!'

'He hev forgot her, and there's an end on't. '

'She's not forgot him. '

'Well, well; think it over. '

This discourse was the cause of his penning a letter to his brother. Hebegged for a distinct statement whether, as John at first supposed, Bob'sverbal renunciation of Anne on the quay had been only a momentaryebullition of friendship, which it would be cruel to take literally; orwhether, as seemed now, it had passed from a hasty resolve to a standingpurpose, persevered in for his own pleasure, with not a care for theresult on poor Anne. 

John waited anxiously for the answer, but no answer came; and the silenceseemed even more significant than a letter of assurance could have beenof his absolution from further support to a claim which Bob himself hadso clearly renounced. Thus it happened that paternal pressure, brotherlyindifference, and his own released impulse operated in one delightfuldirection, and the trumpet-major once more approached Anne as in the oldtime. 

But it was not till she had been left to herself for a full five months, and the blue-bells and ragged-robins of the following year were againmaking themselves common to the rambling eye, that he directly addressedher. She was tying up a group of tall flowering plants in the garden:she knew that he was behind her, but she did not turn. She had subsidedinto a placid dignity which enabled her when watched to perform anylittle action with seeming composure--very different from the flutter ofher inexperienced days. 

'Are you never going to turn round?' he at length asked good-humouredly. 

She then did turn, and looked at him for a moment without speaking; acertain suspicion looming in her eyes, as if suggested by his perceptiblewant of ease. 

'How like summer it is getting to feel, is it not?' she said. 

John admitted that it was getting to feel like summer: and, bending hisgaze upon her with an earnestness which no longer left any doubt of hissubject, went on to ask--

'Have you ever in these last weeks thought of how it used to be betweenus?'

She replied quickly, 'O, John, you shouldn't begin that again. I amalmost another woman now!'

'Well, that's all the more reason why I should, isn't it?'

Anne looked thoughtfully to the other end of the garden, faintly shakingher head; 'I don't quite see it like that, ' she returned. 

'You feel yourself quite free, don't you?'

'_Quite_ free!' she said instantly, and with proud distinctness; her eyesfell, and she repeated more slowly, 'Quite free. ' Then her thoughtsseemed to fly from herself to him. 'But you are not?'

'I am not?'

'Miss Johnson!'

'O--that woman! You know as well as I that was all make-up, and that Inever for a moment thought of her. '

'I had an idea you were acting; but I wasn't sure. '

'Well, that's nothing now. Anne, I want to relieve your life; to cheeryou in some way; to make some amends for my brother's bad conduct. Ifyou cannot love me, liking will be well enough. I have thought overevery side of it so many times--for months have I been thinking itover--and I am at last sure that I do right to put it to you in this way. That I don't wrong Bob I am quite convinced. As far as he is concernedwe be both free. Had I not been sure of that I would never have spoken. Father wants me to take on the mill, and it will please him if you cangive me one little hope; it will make the house go on altogether betterif you can think o' me. '

'You are generous and good, John, ' she said, as a big round tear bowledhelter-skelter down her face and hat-strings. 

'I am not that; I fear I am quite the opposite, ' he said, without lookingat her. 'It would be all gain to me-- But you have not answered myquestion. '

She lifted her eyes. 'John, I cannot!' she said, with a cheerless smile. 'Positively I cannot. Will you make me a promise?'

'What is it?'

'I want you to promise first-- Yes, it is dreadfully unreasonable, ' sheadded, in a mild distress. 'But do promise!'

John by this time seemed to have a feeling that it was all up with himfor the present. 'I promise, ' he said listlessly. 

'It is that you won't speak to me about this for _ever_ so long, ' shereturned, with emphatic kindliness. 

'Very good, ' he replied; 'very good. Dear Anne, you don't think I havebeen unmanly or unfair in starting this anew?'

Anne looked into his face without a smile. 'You have been perfectlynatural, ' she murmured. 'And so I think have I. '

John, mournfully: 'You will not avoid me for this, or be afraid of me? Iwill not break my word. I will not worry you any more. '

'Thank you, John. You need not have said worry; it isn't that. '

'Well, I am very blind and stupid. I have been hurting your heart allthe time without knowing it. It is my fate, I suppose. Men who lovewomen the very best always blunder and give more pain than those who lovethem less. '

Anne laid one of her hands on the other as she softly replied, lookingdown at them, 'No one loves me as well as you, John; nobody in the worldis so worthy to be loved; and yet I cannot anyhow love you rightly. ' Andlifting her eyes, 'But I do so feel for you that I will try as hard as Ican to think about you. '

'Well, that is something, ' he said, smiling. 'You say I must not speakabout it again for ever so long; how long?'

'Now that's not fair, ' Anne retorted, going down the garden, and leavinghim alone. 

About a week passed. Then one afternoon the miller walked up to Anneindoors, a weighty topic being expressed in his tread. 

'I was so glad, my honey, ' he began, with a knowing smile, 'to see thatfrom the mill-window last week. ' He flung a nod in the direction of thegarden. 

Anne innocently inquired what it could be. 

'Jack and you in the garden together, ' he continued laying his handgently on her shoulder and stroking it. 'It would so please me, my dearlittle girl, if you could get to like him better than that weathercock, Master Bob. '

Anne shook her head; not in forcible negation, but to imply a kind ofneutrality. 

'Can't you? Come now, ' said the miller. 

She threw back her head with a little laugh of grievance. 'How you allbeset me!' she expostulated. 'It makes me feel very wicked in notobeying you, and being faithful--faithful to--' But she could not trustthat side of the subject to words. 'Why would it please you so much?'she asked. 

'John is as steady and staunch a fellow as ever blowed a trumpet. I'vealways thought you might do better with him than with Bob. Now I've aplan for taking him into the mill, and letting him have a comfortabletime o't after his long knocking about; but so much depends upon you thatI must bide a bit till I see what your pleasure is about the poor fellow. Mind, my dear, I don't want to force ye; I only just ask ye. '

Anne meditatively regarded the miller from under her shady eyelids, thefingers of one hand playing a silent tattoo on her bosom. 'I don't knowwhat to say to you, ' she answered brusquely, and went away. 

But these discourses were not without their effect upon the extremelyconscientious mind of Anne. They were, moreover, much helped by anincident which took place one evening in the autumn of this year, whenJohn came to tea. Anne was sitting on a low stool in front of the fire, her hands clasped across her knee. John Loveday had just seated himselfon a chair close behind her, and Mrs. Loveday was in the act of fillingthe teapot from the kettle which hung in the chimney exactly above Anne. The kettle slipped forward suddenly, whereupon John jumped from the chairand put his own two hands over Anne's just in time to shield them, andthe precious knee she clasped, from the jet of scalding water which haddirected itself upon that point. The accidental overflow was instantlychecked by Mrs. Loveday; but what had come was received by the devotedtrumpet-major on the back of his hands. 

Anne, who had hardly been aware that he was behind her, started up like aperson awakened from a trance. 'What have you done to yourself, poorJohn, to keep it off me!' she cried, looking at his hands. 

John reddened emotionally at her words, 'It is a bit of a scald, that'sall, ' he replied, drawing a finger across the back of one hand, andbringing off the skin by the touch. 

'You are scalded painfully, and I not at all!' She gazed into his kindface as she had never gazed there before, and when Mrs. Loveday came backwith oil and other liniments for the wound Anne would let nobody dress itbut herself. It seemed as if her coyness had all gone, and when she haddone all that lay in her power she still sat by him. At his departureshe said what she had never said to him in her life before: 'Come againsoon!'

In short, that impulsive act of devotion, the last of a series of thesame tenor, had been the added drop which finally turned the wheel. John's character deeply impressed her. His determined steadfastness tohis lode star won her admiration, the more especially as that star washerself. She began to wonder more and more how she could have sopersistently held out against his advances before Bob came home to renewgirlish memories which had by that time got considerably weakened. Couldshe not, after all, please the miller, and try to listen to John? By sodoing she would make a worthy man happy, the only sacrifice being atworst that of her unworthy self, whose future was no longer valuable. 'Asfor Bob, the woman is to be pitied who loves him, ' she reflectedindignantly, and persuaded herself that, whoever the woman might be, shewas not Anne Garland. 

After this there was something of recklessness and something ofpleasantry in the young girl's manner of making herself an example of thetriumph of pride and common sense over memory and sentiment. Herattitude had been epitomized in her defiant singing at the time shelearnt that Bob was not leal and true. John, as was inevitable, cameagain almost immediately, drawn thither by the sun of her first smile onhim, and the words which had accompanied it. And now instead of goingoff to her little pursuits upstairs, downstairs, across the room, in thecorner, or to any place except where he happened to be, as had been hercustom hitherto, she remained seated near him, returning interestinganswers to his general remarks, and at every opportunity letting him knowthat at last he had found favour in her eyes. 

The day was fine, and they went out of doors, where Anne endeavoured toseat herself on the sloping stone of the window-sill. 

'How good you have become lately, ' said John, standing over her andsmiling in the sunlight which blazed against the wall. 'I fancy you havestayed at home this afternoon on my account. '

'Perhaps I have, ' she said gaily--

 '"Do whatever we may for him, dame, we cannot do too much! For he's one that has guarded our land. "

'And he has done more than that: he has saved me from a dreadfulscalding. The back of your hand will not be well for a long time, John, will it?'

He held out his hand to regard its condition, and the next natural thingwas to take hers. There was a glow upon his face when he did it: hisstar was at last on a fair way towards the zenith after its long andweary declination. The least penetrating eye could have perceived thatAnne had resolved to let him woo, possibly in her temerity to let himwin. Whatever silent sorrow might be locked up in her, it was by thistime thrust a long way down from the light. 

'I want you to go somewhere with me if you will, ' he said, still holdingher hand. 

'Yes? Where is it?'

He pointed to a distant hill-side which, hitherto green, had within thelast few days begun to show scratches of white on its face. 'Up there, 'he said. 

'I see little figures of men moving about. What are they doing?'

'Cutting out a huge picture of the king on horseback in the earth of thehill. The king's head is to be as big as our mill-pond and his body asbig as this garden; he and the horse will cover more than an acre. Whenshall we go?'

'Whenever you please, ' said she. 

'John!' cried Mrs. Loveday from the front door. 'Here's a friend comefor you. '

John went round, and found his trusty lieutenant, Trumpeter Buck, waitingfor him. A letter had come to the barracks for John in his absence, andthe trumpeter, who was going for a walk, had brought it along with him. Buck then entered the mill to discuss, if possible, a mug of last year'smead with the miller; and John proceeded to read his letter, Anne beingstill round the corner where he had left her. When he had read a fewwords he turned as pale as a sheet, but he did not move, and perused thewriting to the end. 

Afterwards he laid his elbow against the wall, and put his palm to hishead, thinking with painful intentness. Then he took himself vigorouslyin hand, as it were, and gradually became natural again. When he partedfrom Anne to go home with Buck she noticed nothing different in him. 

In barracks that evening he read the letter again. It was from Bob; andthe agitating contents were these:--

 'DEAR JOHN, --I have drifted off from writing till the present time because I have not been clear about my feelings; but I have discovered them at last, and can say beyond doubt that I mean to be faithful to my dearest Anne after all. The fact is, John, I've got into a bit of a scrape, and I've a secret to tell you about it (which must go no further on any account). On landing last autumn I fell in with a young woman, and we got rather warm as folks do; in short, we liked one another well enough for a while. But I have got into shoal water with her, and have found her to be a terrible take-in. Nothing in her at all--no sense, no niceness, all tantrums and empty noise, John, though she seemed monstrous clever at first. So my heart comes back to its old anchorage. I hope my return to faithfulness will make no difference to you. But as you showed by your looks at our parting that you should not accept my offer to give her up--made in too much haste, as I have since found--I feel that you won't mind that I have returned to the path of honour. I dare not write to Anne as yet, and please do not let her know a word about the other young woman, or there will be the devil to pay. I shall come home and make all things right, please God. In the meantime I should take it as a kindness, John, if you would keep a brotherly eye upon Anne, and guide her mind back to me. I shall die of sorrow if anybody sets her against me, for my hopes are getting bound up in her again quite strong. Hoping you are jovial, as times go, I am, --Your affectionate brother, ROBERT. '

When the cold daylight fell upon John's face, as he dressed himself nextmorning, the incipient yesterday's wrinkle in his forehead had becomepermanently graven there. He had resolved, for the sake of that onlybrother whom he had nursed as a baby, instructed as a child, andprotected and loved always, to pause in his procedure for the present, and at least do nothing to hinder Bob's restoration to favour, if agenuine, even though temporarily smothered, love for Anne should stillhold possession of him. But having arranged to take her to see theexcavated figure of the king, he started for Overcombe during the day, asif nothing had occurred to check the smooth course of his love. 

XXXVIII. A DELICATE SITUATION

'I am ready to go, ' said Anne, as soon as he arrived. 

He paused as if taken aback by her readiness, and replied with muchuncertainty, 'Would it--wouldn't it be better to put it off till there isless sun?'

The very slightest symptom of surprise arose in her as she rejoined, 'Butthe weather may change; or had we better not go at all?'

'O no!--it was only a thought. We will start at once. '

And along the vale they went, John keeping himself about a yard from herright hand. When the third field had been crossed they came upon half-a-dozen little boys at play. 

'Why don't he clasp her to his side, like a man?' said the biggest andrudest boy. 

'Why don't he clasp her to his side, like a man?' echoed all the rudesmaller boys in a chorus. 

The trumpet-major turned, and, after some running, succeeded in smackingtwo of them with his switch, returning to Anne breathless. 'I am ashamedthey should have insulted you so, ' he said, blushing for her. 

'They said no harm, poor boys, ' she replied reproachfully. 

Poor John was dumb with perception. The gentle hint upon which he wouldhave eagerly spoken only one short day ago was now like fire to hiswound. 

They presently came to some stepping-stones across a brook. John crossedfirst without turning his head, and Anne, just lifting the skirt of herdress, crossed behind him. When they had reached the other side avillage girl and a young shepherd approached the brink to cross. Annestopped and watched them. The shepherd took a hand of the young girl ineach of his own, and walked backward over the stones, facing her, andkeeping her upright by his grasp, both of them laughing as they went. 

'What are you staying for, Miss Garland?' asked John. 

'I was only thinking how happy they are, ' she said quietly; andwithdrawing her eyes from the tender pair, she turned and followed him, not knowing that the seeming sound of a passing bumble-bee was asuppressed groan from John. 

When they reached the hill they found forty navvies at work removing thedark sod so as to lay bare the chalk beneath. The equestrian figure thattheir shovels were forming was scarcely intelligible to John and Anne nowthey were close, and after pacing from the horse's head down his breastto his hoof, back by way of the king's bridle-arm, past the bridge of hisnose, and into his cocked-hat, Anne said that she had had enough of it, and stepped out of the chalk clearing upon the grass. The trumpet-majorhad remained all the time in a melancholy attitude within the rowel ofhis Majesty's right spur. 

'My shoes are caked with chalk, ' she said as they walked downwards again;and she drew back her dress to look at them. 'How can I get some of itcleared off?'

'If you was to wipe them in the long grass there, ' said John, pointing toa spot where the blades were rank and dense, 'some of it would come off. 'Having said this, he walked on with religious firmness. 

Anne raked her little feet on the right side, on the left side, over thetoe, and behind the heel; but the tenacious chalk held its own. Pantingwith her exertion, she gave it up, and at length overtook him. 

'I hope it is right now?' he said, looking gingerly over his shoulder. 

'No, indeed!' said she. 'I wanted some assistance--some one to steadyme. It is so hard to stand on one foot and wipe the other withoutsupport. I was in danger of toppling over, and so gave it up. '

'Merciful stars, what an opportunity!' thought the poor fellow while shewaited for him to offer help. But his lips remained closed, and she wenton with a pouting smile--

'You seem in such a hurry! Why are you in such a hurry? After all thefine things you have said about--about caring so much for me, and allthat, you won't stop for anything!'

It was too much for John. 'Upon my heart and life, my dea--' he began. Here Bob's letter crackled warningly in his waistcoat pocket as he laidhis hand asseveratingly upon his breast, and he became suddenly scaled upto dumbness and gloom as before. 

When they reached home Anne sank upon a stool outside the door, fatiguedwith her excursion. Her first act was to try to pull off her shoe--itwas a difficult matter; but John stood beating with his switch the leavesof the creeper on the wall. 

'Mother--David--Molly, or somebody--do come and help me pull off thesedirty shoes!' she cried aloud at last. 'Nobody helps me in anything!'

'I am very sorry, ' said John, coming towards her with incredible slownessand an air of unutterable depression. 

'O, I can do without _you_. David is best, ' she returned, as the old manapproached and removed the obnoxious shoes in a trice. 

Anne was amazed at this sudden change from devotion to crassindifference. On entering her room she flew to the glass, almostexpecting to learn that some extraordinary change had come over herpretty countenance, rendering her intolerable for evermore. But it was, if anything, fresher than usual, on account of the exercise. 'Well!' shesaid retrospectively. For the first time since their acqaintance she hadthis week encouraged him; and for the first time he had shown thatencouragement was useless. 'But perhaps he does not clearly understand, 'she added serenely. 

When he next came it was, to her surprise, to bring her newspapers, nowfor some time discontinued. As soon as she saw them she said, 'I do notcare for newspapers. '

'The shipping news is very full and long to-day, though the print israther small. '

'I take no further interest in the shipping news, ' she replied with colddignity. 

She was sitting by the window, inside the table, and hence when, in spiteof her negations, he deliberately unfolded the paper and began to readabout the Royal Navy she could hardly rise and go away. With a stoicalmien he read on to the end of the report, bringing out the name of Bob'sship with tremendous force. 

'No, ' she said at last, 'I'll hear no more! Let me read to you. '

The trumpet-major sat down. Anne turned to the military news, deliveringevery detail with much apparent enthusiasm. 'That's the subject _I_like!' she said fervently. 

'But--but Bob is in the navy now, and will most likely rise to be anofficer. And then--'

'What is there like the army?' she interrupted. 'There is no smartnessabout sailors. They waddle like ducks, and they only fight stupidbattles that no one can form any idea of. There is no science norstratagem in sea-fights--nothing more than what you see when two rams runtheir heads together in a field to knock each other down. But inmilitary battles there is such art, and such splendour, and the men areso smart, particularly the horse-soldiers. O, I shall never forget whatgallant men you all seemed when you came and pitched your tents on thedowns! I like the cavalry better than anything I know; and the dragoonsthe best of the cavalry--and the trumpeters the best of the dragoons!'

'O, if it had but come a little sooner!' moaned John within him. Hereplied as soon as he could regain self-command, 'I am glad Bob is in thenavy at last--he is so much more fitted for that than themerchant-service--so brave by nature, ready for any daring deed. I haveheard ever so much more about his doings on board the Victory. CaptainHardy took special notice that when he--'

'I don't want to know anything more about it, ' said Anne impatiently; 'ofcourse sailors fight; there's nothing else to do in a ship, since youcan't run away! You may as well fight and be killed as be killed notfighting. '

'Still it is his character to be careless of himself where the honour ofhis country is concerned, ' John pleaded. 'If you had only known him as aboy you would own it. He would always risk his own life to save anybodyelse's. Once when a cottage was afire up the lane he rushed in for ababy, although he was only a boy himself, and he had the narrowestescape. We have got his hat now with the hole burnt in it. Shall I getit and show it to you?'

'No--I don't wish it. It has nothing to do with me. ' But as hepersisted in his course towards the door, she added, 'Ah! you are leavingbecause I am in your way. You want to be alone while you read thepaper--I will go at once. I did not see that I was interrupting you. 'And she rose as if to retreat. 

'No, no! I would rather be interrupted by _you_ than--O, Miss Garland, excuse me! I'll just speak to father in the mill, now I am here. '

It is scarcely necessary to state that Anne (whose unquestionablegentility amid somewhat homely surroundings has been many times insistedon in the course of this history) was usually the reverse of a woman witha coming-on disposition; but, whether from pique at his manner, or fromwilful adherence to a course rashly resolved on, or from coquettishmaliciousness in reaction from long depression, or from any otherthing, --so it was that she would not let him go. 

'Trumpet-major, ' she said, recalling him. 

'Yes?' he replied timidly. 

'The bow of my cap-ribbon has come untied, has it not?' She turned andfixed her bewitching glance upon him. 

The bow was just over her forehead, or, more precisely, at the pointwhere the organ of comparison merges in that of benevolence, according tothe phrenological theory of Gall. John, thus brought to, endeavoured tolook at the bow in a skimming, duck-and-drake fashion, so as to avoiddipping his own glance as far as to the plane of his interrogator's eyes. 'It is untied, ' he said, drawing back a little. 

She came nearer, and asked, 'Will you tie it for me, please?'

As there was no help for it, he nerved himself and assented. As her headonly reached to his fourth button she necessarily looked up for hisconvenience, and John began fumbling at the bow. Try as he would it wasimpossible to touch the ribbon without getting his finger tips mixed withthe curls of her forehead. 

'Your hand shakes--ah! you have been walking fast, ' she said. 

'Yes--yes. '

'Have you almost done it?' She inquiringly directed her gaze upwardthrough his fingers. 

'No--not yet, ' he faltered in a warm sweat of emotion, his heart goinglike a flail. 

'Then be quick, please. '

'Yes, I will, Miss Garland! B-B-Bob is a very good fel--'

'Not that man's name to me!' she interrupted. 

John was silent instantly, and nothing was to be heard but the rustlingof the ribbon; till his hands once more blundered among the curls, andthen touched her forehead. 

'O good God!' ejaculated the trumpet-major in a whisper, turning awayhastily to the corner-cupboard, and resting his face upon his hand. 

'What's the matter, John?' said she. 

'I can't do it!'

'What?'

'Tie your cap-ribbon. '

'Why not?'

'Because you are so--Because I am clumsy, and never could tie a bow. '

'You are clumsy indeed, ' answered Anne, and went away. 

After this she felt injured, for it seemed to show that he rated herhappiness as of meaner value than Bob's; since he had persisted in hisidea of giving Bob another chance when she had implied that it was herwish to do otherwise. Could Miss Johnson have anything to do with hisfirmness? An opportunity of testing him in this direction occurred somedays later. She had been up the village, and met John at the mill-door. 

'Have you heard the news? Matilda Johnson is going to be married toyoung Derriman. '

Anne stood with her back to the sun, and as he faced her, his featureswere searchingly exhibited. There was no change whatever in them, unlessit were that a certain light of interest kindled by her question turnedto complete and blank indifference. 'Well, as times go, it is not a badmatch for her, ' he said, with a phlegm which was hardly that of a lover. 

John on his part was beginning to find these temptations almost more thanhe could bear. But being quartered so near to his father's house it wasunnatural not to visit him, especially when at any moment the regimentmight be ordered abroad, and a separation of years ensue; and as long ashe went there he could not help seeing her. 

The year changed from green to gold, and from gold to grey, but littlechange came over the house of Loveday. During the last twelve months Bobhad been occasionally heard of as upholding his country's honour inDenmark, the West Indies, Gibraltar, Malta, and other places about theglobe, till the family received a short letter stating that he hadarrived again at Portsmouth. At Portsmouth Bob seemed disposed toremain, for though some time elapsed without further intelligence, thegallant seaman never appeared at Overcombe. Then on a sudden John learntthat Bob's long-talked-of promotion for signal services rendered was tobe an accomplished fact. The trumpet-major at once walked off toOvercombe, and reached the village in the early afternoon. Not one ofthe family was in the house at the moment, and John strolled onwards overthe hill towards Casterbridge, without much thought of direction till, lifting his eyes, he beheld Anne Garland wandering about with a littlebasket upon her arm. 

At first John blushed with delight at the sweet vision; but, recalled byhis conscience, the blush of delight was at once mangled and slain. Helooked for a means of retreat. But the field was open, and a soldier wasa conspicuous object: there was no escaping her. 

'It was kind of you to come, ' she said, with an inviting smile. 

'It was quite by accident, ' he answered, with an indifferent laugh. 'Ithought you was at home. '

Anne blushed and said nothing, and they rambled on together. In themiddle of the field rose a fragment of stone wall in the form of a gable, known as Faringdon Ruin; and when they had reached it John paused andpolitely asked her if she were not a little tired with walking so far. Noparticular reply was returned by the young lady, but they both stopped, and Anne seated herself on a stone, which had fallen from the ruin to theground. 

'A church once stood here, ' observed John in a matter-of-fact tone. 

'Yes, I have often shaped it out in my mind, ' she returned. 'Here whereI sit must have been the altar. '

'True; this standing bit of wall was the chancel end. '

Anne had been adding up her little studies of the trumpet-major'scharacter, and was surprised to find how the brightness of that characterincreased in her eyes with each examination. A kindly and gentlesensation was again aroused in her. Here was a neglected heroic man, who, loving her to distraction, deliberately doomed himself to pensiveshade to avoid even the appearance of standing in a brother's way. 

'If the altar stood here, hundreds of people have been made man and wifejust there, in past times, ' she said, with calm deliberateness, throwinga little stone on a spot about a yard westward. 

John annihilated another tender burst and replied, 'Yes, this field usedto be a village. My grandfather could call to mind when there werehouses here. But the squire pulled 'em down, because poor folk were aneyesore to him. '

'Do you know, John, what you once asked me to do?' she continued, notaccepting the digression, and turning her eyes upon him. 

'In what sort of way?'

'In the matter of my future life, and yours. '

'I am afraid I don't. '

'John Loveday!'

He turned his back upon her for a moment, that she might not see hisface. 'Ah--I do remember, ' he said at last, in a dry, small, repressedvoice. 

'Well--need I say more? Isn't it sufficient?'

'It would be sufficient, ' answered the unhappy man. 'But--'

She looked up with a reproachful smile, and shook her head. 'Thatsummer, ' she went on, 'you asked me ten times if you asked me once. I amolder now; much more of a woman, you know; and my opinion is changedabout some people; especially about one. '

'O Anne, Anne!' he burst out as, racked between honour and desire, hesnatched up her hand. The next moment it fell heavily to her lap. Hehad absolutely relinquished it half-way to his lips. 

'I have been thinking lately, ' he said, with preternaturally suddencalmness, 'that men of the military profession ought not to m--ought tobe like St. Paul, I mean. '

'Fie, John; pretending religion!' she said sternly. 'It isn't that atall. _It's Bob_!'

'Yes!' cried the miserable trumpet-major. 'I have had a letter from himto-day. ' He pulled out a sheet of paper from his breast. 'That's it!He's promoted--he's a lieutenant, and appointed to a sloop that onlycruises on our own coast, so that he'll be at home on leave half histime--he'll be a gentleman some day, and worthy of you!'

He threw the letter into her lap, and drew back to the other side of thegable-wall. Anne jumped up from her seat, flung away the letter withoutlooking at it, and went hastily on. John did not attempt to overtakeher. Picking up the letter, he followed in her wake at a distance of ahundred yards. 

But, though Anne had withdrawn from his presence thus precipitately, shenever thought more highly of him in her life than she did five minutesafterwards, when the excitement of the moment had passed. She saw it allquite clearly; and his self-sacrifice impressed her so much that theeffect was just the reverse of what he had been aiming to produce. Themore he pleaded for Bob, the more her perverse generosity pleaded forJohn. To-day the crisis had come--with what results she had notforeseen. 

As soon as the trumpet-major reached the nearest pen-and-ink he flunghimself into a seat and wrote wildly to Bob:--

 'DEAR ROBERT, --I write these few lines to let you know that if you want Anne Garland you must come at once--you must come instantly, and post-haste--_or she will be gone_! Somebody else wants her, and she wants him! It is your last chance, in the opinion of--

 'Your faithful brother and well-wisher, 'JOHN. 

 'P. S. --Glad to hear of your promotion. Tell me the day and I'll meet the coach. '

XXXIX. BOB LOVEDAY STRUTS UP AND DOWN

One night, about a week later, two men were walking in the dark along theturnpike road towards Overcombe, one of them with a bag in his hand. 

'Now, ' said the taller of the two, the squareness of whose shoulderssignified that he wore epaulettes, 'now you must do the best you can foryourself, Bob. I have done all I can; but th'hast thy work cut out, Ican tell thee. '

'I wouldn't have run such a risk for the world, ' said the other, in atone of ingenuous contrition. 'But thou'st see, Jack, I didn't thinkthere was any danger, knowing you was taking care of her, and keeping myplace warm for me. I didn't hurry myself, that's true; but, thinks I, ifI get this promotion I am promised I shall naturally have leave, and thenI'll go and see 'em all. Gad, I shouldn't have been here now but foryour letter!'

'You little think what risks you've run, ' said his brother. 'However, try to make up for lost time. '

'All right. And whatever you do, Jack, don't say a word about this othergirl. Hang the girl!--I was a great fool, I know; still, it is over now, and I am come to my senses. I suppose Anne never caught a capful of windfrom that quarter?'

'She knows all about it, ' said John seriously. 

'Knows? By George, then, I'm ruined!' said Bob, standing stock-still inthe road as if he meant to remain there all night. 

'That's what I meant by saying it would be a hard battle for 'ee, 'returned John, with the same quietness as before. 

Bob sighed and moved on. 'I don't deserve that woman!' he criedpassionately, thumping his three upper ribs with his fist. 

'I've thought as much myself, ' observed John, with a dryness which wasalmost bitter. 'But it depends on how thou'st behave in future. '

'John, ' said Bob, taking his brother's hand, 'I'll be a new man. Isolemnly swear by that eternal milestone staring at me there that I'llnever look at another woman with the thought of marrying her whilst thatdarling is free--no, not if she be a mermaiden of light! It's a luckything that I'm slipped in on the quarterdeck! it may help me withher--hey?'

'It may with her mother; I don't think it will make much difference withAnne. Still, it is a good thing; and I hope that some day you'll commanda big ship. '

Bob shook his head. 'Officers are scarce; but I'm afraid my luck won'tcarry me so far as that. '

'Did she ever tell you that she mentioned your name to the King?'

The seaman stood still again. 'Never!' he said. 'How did such a thingas that happen, in Heaven's name?'

John described in detail, and they walked on, lost in conjecture. 

As soon as they entered the house the returned officer of the navy waswelcomed with acclamation by his father and David, with mild approval byMrs. Loveday, and by Anne not at all--that discreet maiden havingcarefully retired to her own room some time earlier in the evening. Bobdid not dare to ask for her in any positive manner; he just inquiredabout her health, and that was all. 

'Why, what's the matter with thy face, my son?' said the miller, staring. 'David, show a light here. ' And a candle was thrust against Bob's cheek, where there appeared a jagged streak like the geological remains of alobster. 

'O--that's where that rascally Frenchman's grenade busted and hit me fromthe Redoubtable, you know, as I told 'ee in my letter. '

'Not a word!'

'What, didn't I tell 'ee? Ah, no; I meant to, but I forgot it. '

'And here's a sort of dint in yer forehead too; what do that mean, mydear boy?' said the miller, putting his finger in a chasm in Bob's skull. 

'That was done in the Indies. Yes, that was rather a troublesome chop--acutlass did it. I should have told 'ee, but I found 'twould make myletter so long that I put it off, and put it off; and at last thought itwasn't worth while. '

John soon rose to take his departure. 

'It's all up with me and her, you see, ' said Bob to him outside the door. 'She's not even going to see me. '

'Wait a little, ' said the trumpet-major. It was easy enough on the nightof the arrival, in the midst of excitement, when blood was warm, for Anneto be resolute in her avoidance of Bob Loveday. But in the morningdetermination is apt to grow invertebrate; rules of pugnacity are lesseasily acted up to, and a feeling of live and let live takes possessionof the gentle soul. Anne had not meant even to sit down to the samebreakfast-table with Bob; but when the rest were assembled, and had gotsome way through the substantial repast which was served at this hour inthe miller's house, Anne entered. She came silently as a phantom, hereyes cast down, her cheeks pale. It was a good long walk from the doorto the table, and Bob made a full inspection of her as she came up to achair at the remotest corner, in the direct rays of the morning light, where she dumbly sat herself down. 

It was altogether different from how she had expected. Here was she, whohad done nothing, feeling all the embarrassment; and Bob, who had donethe wrong, feeling apparently quite at ease. 

'You'll speak to Bob, won't you, honey?' said the miller after a silence. To meet Bob like this after an absence seemed irregular in his eyes. 

'If he wish me to, ' she replied, so addressing the miller that no part, scrap, or outlying beam whatever of her glance passed near the subject ofher remark. 

'He's a lieutenant, you know, dear, ' said her mother on the same side;'and he's been dreadfully wounded. '

'Oh?' said Anne, turning a little towards the false one; at which Bobfelt it to be time for him to put in a spoke for himself. 

'I am glad to see you, ' he said contritely; 'and how do you do?'

'Very well, thank you. '

He extended his hand. She allowed him to take hers, but only to theextent of a niggardly inch or so. At the same moment she glanced up athim, when their eyes met, and hers were again withdrawn. 

The hitch between the two younger members of the household tended to makethe breakfast a dull one. Bob was so depressed by her unforgiving mannerthat he could not throw that sparkle into his stories which theirsubstance naturally required; and when the meal was over, and they wentabout their different businesses, the pair resembled the two Dromios inseldom or never being, thanks to Anne's subtle contrivances, both in thesame room at the same time. 

This kind of performance repeated itself during several days. At last, after dogging her hither and thither, leaning with a wrinkled foreheadagainst doorposts, taking an oblique view into the room where shehappened to be, picking up worsted balls and getting no thanks, placing asplinter from the Victory, several bullets from the Redoubtable, a stripof the flag, and other interesting relics, carefully labelled, upon hertable, and hearing no more about them than if they had been pebbles fromthe nearest brook, he hit upon a new plan. To avoid him she frequentlysat upstairs in a window overlooking the garden. Lieutenant Lovedaycarefully dressed himself in a new uniform, which he had caused to besent some days before, to dazzle admiring friends, but which he had neveras yet put on in public or mentioned to a soul. When arrayed he enteredthe sunny garden, and there walked slowly up and down as he had seenNelson and Captain Hardy do on the quarter-deck; but keeping his rightshoulder, on which his one epaulette was fixed, as much towards Anne'swindow as possible. 

But she made no sign, though there was not the least question that shesaw him. At the end of half-an-hour he went in, took off his clothes, and gave himself up to doubt and the best tobacco. 

He repeated the programme on the next afternoon, and on the next, neversaying a word within doors about his doings or his notice. 

Meanwhile the results in Anne's chamber were not uninteresting. She hadbeen looking out on the first day, and was duly amazed to see a navalofficer in full uniform promenading in the path. Finding it to be Bob, she left the window with a sense that the scene was not for her; then, from mere curiosity, peeped out from behind the curtain. Well, he was apretty spectacle, she admitted, relieved as his figure was by a densemass of sunny, close-trimmed hedge, over which nasturtiums climbed inwild luxuriance; and if she could care for him one bit, which shecouldn't, his form would have been a delightful study, surpassing ininterest even its splendour on the memorable day of their visit to thetown theatre. She called her mother; Mrs. Loveday came promptly. 

'O, it is nothing, ' said Anne indifferently; 'only that Bob has got hisuniform. '

Mrs. Loveday peeped out, and raised her hands with delight. 'And he hasnot said a word to us about it! What a lovely epaulette! I must callhis father. '

'No, indeed. As I take no interest in him I shall not let people comeinto my room to admire him. '

'Well, you called me, ' said her mother. 

'It was because I thought you liked fine clothes. It is what I don'tcare for. '

Notwithstanding this assertion she again looked out at Bob the nextafternoon when his footsteps rustled on the gravel, and studied hisappearance under all the varying angles of the sunlight, as if fineclothes and uniforms were not altogether a matter of indifference. Hecertainly was a splendid, gentlemanly, and gallant sailor from end to endof him; but then, what were a dashing presentment, a naval rank, andtelling scars, if a man was fickle-hearted? However, she peeped on tillthe fourth day, and then she did not peep. The window was open, shelooked right out, and Bob knew that he had got a rise to his bait atlast. He touched his hat to her, keeping his right shoulder forwards, and said, 'Good-day, Miss Garland, ' with a smile. 

Anne replied, 'Good-day, ' with funereal seriousness; and the acquaintancethus revived led to the interchange of a few words at supper-time, atwhich Mrs. Loveday nodded with satisfaction. But Anne took especial carethat he should never meet her alone, and to insure this her ingenuity wasin constant exercise. There were so many nooks and windings on themiller's rambling premises that she could never be sure he would not turnup within a foot of her, particularly as his thin shoes were almostnoiseless. 

One fine afternoon she accompanied Molly in search of elderberries formaking the family wine which was drunk by Mrs. Loveday, Anne, and anybodywho could not stand the rougher and stronger liquors provided by themiller. After walking rather a long distance over the down they came toa grassy hollow, where elder-bushes in knots of twos and threes rose froman uneven bank and hung their heads towards the south, black and heavywith bunches of fruit. The charm of fruit-gathering to girls is enhancedin the case of elderberries by the inoffensive softness of the leaves, boughs, and bark, which makes getting into the branches easy and pleasantto the most indifferent climbers. Anne and Molly had soon gathered abasketful, and sending the servant home with it, Anne remained in thebush picking and throwing down bunch by bunch upon the grass. She was soabsorbed in her occupation of pulling the twigs towards her, and therustling of their leaves so filled her ears, that it was a great surprisewhen, on turning her head, she perceived a similar movement to her ownamong the boughs of the adjoining bush. 

At first she thought they were disturbed by being partly in contact withthe boughs of her bush; but in a moment Robert Loveday's face peered fromthem, at a distance of about a yard from her own. Anne uttered a littleindignant 'Well!' recovered herself, and went on plucking. Bob thereuponwent on plucking likewise. 

'I am picking elderberries for your mother, ' said the lieutenant at last, humbly. 

'So I see. '

'And I happen to have come to the next bush to yours. '

'So I see; but not the reason why. '

Anne was now in the westernmost branches of the bush, and Bob had leantacross into the eastern branches of his. In gathering he swayed towardsher, back again, forward again. 

'I beg pardon, ' he said, when a further swing than usual had taken himalmost in contact with her. 

'Then why do you do it?'

'The wind rocks the bough, and the bough rocks me. ' She expressed by alook her opinion of this statement in the face of the gentlest breeze;and Bob pursued: 'I am afraid the berries will stain your pretty hands. '

'I wear gloves. '

'Ah, that's a plan I should never have thought of. Can I help you?'

'Not at all. '

'You are offended: that's what that means. '

'No, ' she said. 

'Then will you shake hands?'

Anne hesitated; then slowly stretched out her hand, which he took atonce. 'That will do, ' she said, finding that he did not relinquish itimmediately. But as he still held it, she pulled, the effect of whichwas to draw Bob's swaying person, bough and all, towards her, and herselftowards him. 

'I am afraid to let go your hand, ' said that officer, 'for if I do yourspar will fly back, and you will be thrown upon the deck with greatviolence. '

'I wish you to let me go!'

He accordingly did, and she flew back, but did not by any means fall. 

'It reminds me of the times when I used to be aloft clinging to a yardnot much bigger than this tree-stem, in the mid-Atlantic, and thinkingabout you. I could see you in my fancy as plain as I see you now. '

'Me, or some other woman!' retorted Anne haughtily. 

'No!' declared Bob, shaking the bush for emphasis, 'I'll protest that Idid not think of anybody but you all the time we were dropping downchannel, all the time we were off Cadiz, all the time through battles andbombardments. I seemed to see you in the smoke, and, thinks I, if I goto Davy's locker, what will she do?'

'You didn't think that when you landed after Trafalgar. '

'Well, now, ' said the lieutenant in a reasoning tone; 'that was a curiousthing. You'll hardly believe it, maybe; but when a man is away from thewoman he loves best in the port--world, I mean--he can have a sort oftemporary feeling for another without disturbing the old one, which flowsalong under the same as ever. '

'I can't believe it, and won't, ' said Anne firmly. 

Molly now appeared with the empty basket, and when it had been filledfrom the heap on the grass, Anne went home with her, bidding Loveday afrigid adieu. 

The same evening, when Bob was absent, the miller proposed that theyshould all three go to an upper window of the house, to get a distantview of some rockets and illuminations which were to be exhibited in thetown and harbour in honour of the King, who had returned this year asusual. They accordingly went upstairs to an empty attic, placed chairsagainst the window, and put out the light; Anne sitting in the middle, her mother close by, and the miller behind, smoking. No sign of anypyrotechnic display was visible over the port as yet, and Mrs. Lovedaypassed the time by talking to the miller, who replied in monosyllables. While this was going on Anne fancied that she heard some one approach, and presently felt sure that Bob was drawing near her in the surroundingdarkness; but as the other two had noticed nothing she said not a word. 

All at once the swarthy expanse of southward sky was broken by the blazeof several rockets simultaneously ascending from different ships in theroads. At the very same moment a warm mysterious hand slipped round herown, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

'O dear!' said Anne, with a sudden start away. 

'How nervous you are, child, to be startled by fireworks so far off, 'said Mrs. Loveday. 

'I never saw rockets before, ' murmured Anne, recovering from hersurprise. 

Mrs. Loveday presently spoke again. 'I wonder what has become of Bob?'

Anne did not reply, being much exercised in trying to get her hand awayfrom the one that imprisoned it; and whatever the miller thought he keptto himself, because it disturbed his smoking to speak. 

Another batch of rockets went up. 'O I never!' said Anne, in ahalf-suppressed tone, springing in her chair. A second hand had with therise of the rockets leapt round her waist. 

'Poor girl, you certainly must have change of scene at this rate, ' saidMrs. Loveday. 

'I suppose I must, ' murmured the dutiful daughter. 

For some minutes nothing further occurred to disturb Anne's serenity. Then a slow, quiet 'a-hem' came from the obscurity of the apartment. 

'What, Bob? How long have you been there?' inquired Mrs. Loveday. 

'Not long, ' said the lieutenant coolly. 'I heard you were all here, andcrept up quietly, not to disturb ye. '

'Why don't you wear heels to your shoes like Christian people, and notcreep about so like a cat?'

'Well, it keeps your floors clean to go slip-shod. '

'That's true. '

Meanwhile Anne was gently but firmly trying to pull Bob's arm from herwaist, her distressful difficulty being that in freeing her waist sheenslaved her hand, and in getting her hand free she enslaved her waist. Finding the struggle a futile one, owing to the invisibility of herantagonist, and her wish to keep its nature secret from the other two, she arose, and saying that she did not care to see any more, felt her waydownstairs. Bob followed, leaving Loveday and his wife to themselves. 

'Dear Anne, ' he began, when he had got down, and saw her in the candle-light of the large room. But she adroitly passed out at the other door, at which he took a candle and followed her to the small room. 'DearAnne, do let me speak, ' he repeated, as soon as the rays revealed herfigure. But she passed into the bakehouse before he could say more;whereupon he perseveringly did the same. Looking round for her here heperceived her at the end of the room, where there were no means of exitwhatever. 

'Dear Anne, ' he began again, setting down the candle, 'you must try toforgive me; really you must. I love you the best of anybody in the wide, wide world. Try to forgive me; come!' And he imploringly took her hand. 

Anne's bosom began to surge and fall like a small tide, her eyesremaining fixed upon the floor; till, when Loveday ventured to draw herslightly towards him, she burst out crying. 'I don't like you, Bob; Idon't!' she suddenly exclaimed between her sobs. 'I did once, but Idon't now--I can't, I can't; you have been very cruel to me!' Sheviolently turned away, weeping. 

'I have, I have been terribly bad, I know, ' answered Bob, conscience-stricken by her grief. 'But--if you could only forgive me--Ipromise that I'll never do anything to grieve 'ee again. Do you forgiveme, Anne?'

Anne's only reply was crying and shaking her head. 

'Let's make it up. Come, say we have made it up, dear. '

She withdrew her hand, and still keeping her eyes buried in herhandkerchief, said 'No. '

'Very well, then!' exclaimed Bob, with sudden determination. 'Now I knowmy doom! And whatever you hear of as happening to me, mind this, youcruel girl, that it is all your causing!' Saying this he strode with ahasty tread across the room into the passage and out at the door, slamming it loudly behind him. 

Anne suddenly looked up from her handkerchief, and stared with round weteyes and parted lips at the door by which he had gone. Having remainedwith suspended breath in this attitude for a few seconds she turnedround, bent her head upon the table, and burst out weeping anew withthrice the violence of the former time. It really seemed now as if hergrief would overwhelm her, all the emotions which had been suppressed, bottled up, and concealed since Bob's return having made themselves asluice at last. 

But such things have their end; and left to herself in the large, vacant, old apartment, she grew quieter, and at last calm. At length she tookthe candle and ascended to her bedroom, where she bathed her eyes andlooked in the glass to see if she had made herself a dreadful object. Itwas not so bad as she had expected, and she went downstairs again. 

Nobody was there, and, sitting down, she wondered what Bob had reallymeant by his words. It was too dreadful to think that he intended to gostraight away to sea without seeing her again, and frightened at what shehad done she waited anxiously for his return. 

XL. A CALL ON BUSINESS

Her suspense was interrupted by a very gentle tapping at the door, andthen the rustle of a hand over its surface, as if searching for the latchin the dark. The door opened a few inches, and the alabaster face ofUncle Benjy appeared in the slit. 

'O, Squire Derriman, you frighten me!'

'All alone?' he asked in a whisper. 

'My mother and Mr. Loveday are somewhere about the house. '

'That will do, ' he said, coming forward. 'I be wherrited out of my life, and I have thought of you again--you yourself, dear Anne, and not themiller. If you will only take this and lock it up for a few days till Ican find another good place for it--if you only would!' And hebreathlessly deposited the tin box on the table. 

'What, obliged to dig it up from the cellar?'

'Ay; my nephew hath a scent of the place--how, I don't know! but he and ayoung woman he's met with are searching everywhere. I worked like a wire-drawer to get it up and away while they were scraping in the next cellar. Now where could ye put it, dear? 'Tis only a few documents, and my will, and such like, you know. Poor soul o' me, I'm worn out with running andfright!'

'I'll put it here till I can think of a better place, ' said Anne, liftingthe box. 'Dear me, how heavy it is!'

'Yes, yes, ' said Uncle Benjy hastily; 'the box is iron, you see. However, take care of it, because I am going to make it worth your while. Ah, youare a good girl, Anne. I wish you was mine!'

Anne looked at Uncle Benjy. She had known for some time that shepossessed all the affection he had to bestow. 

'Why do you wish that?' she said simply. 

'Now don't ye argue with me. Where d'ye put the coffer?'

'Here, ' said Anne, going to the window-seat, which rose as a flap, disclosing a boxed receptacle beneath, as in many old houses. 

''Tis very well for the present, ' he said dubiously, and they dropped thecoffer in, Anne locking down the seat, and giving him the key. 'Now Idon't want ye to be on my side for nothing, ' he went on. 'I never didnow, did I? This is for you. ' He handed her a little packet of paper, which Anne turned over and looked at curiously. 'I always meant to doit, ' continued Uncle Benjy, gazing at the packet as it lay in her hand, and sighing. 'Come, open it, my dear; I always meant to do it!'

She opened it and found twenty new guineas snugly packed within. 

'Yes, they are for you. I always meant to do it!' he said, sighingagain. 

'But you owe me nothing!' returned Anne, holding them out. 

'Don't say it!' cried Uncle Benjy, covering his eyes. 'Put 'em away. . . . Well, if you _don't_ want 'em--But put 'em away, dear Anne; they arefor you, because you have kept my counsel. Good-night t'ye. Yes, theyare for you. '

He went a few steps, and turning back added anxiously, 'You won't spend'em in clothes, or waste 'em in fairings, or ornaments of any kind, mydear girl?'

'I will not, ' said Anne. 'I wish you would have them. '

'No, no, ' said Uncle Benjy, rushing off to escape their shine. But hehad got no further than the passage when he returned again. 

'And you won't lend 'em to anybody, or put 'em into the bank--for no bankis safe in these troublous times?. . . If I was you I'd keep them_exactly_ as they be, and not spend 'em on any account. Shall I lockthem into my box for ye?'

'Certainly, ' said she; and the farmer rapidly unlocked the window-bench, opened the box, and locked them in. 

''Tis much the best plan, ' he said with great satisfaction as he returnedthe keys to his pocket. 'There they will always be safe, you see, andyou won't be exposed to temptation. '

When the old man had been gone a few minutes, the miller and his wifecame in, quite unconscious of all that had passed. Anne's anxiety aboutBob was again uppermost now, and she spoke but meagrely of old Derriman'svisit, and nothing of what he had left. She would fain have asked themif they knew where Bob was, but that she did not wish to inform them ofthe rupture. She was forced to admit to herself that she had somewhattried his patience, and that impulsive men had been known to do darkthings with themselves at such times. 

They sat down to supper, the clock ticked rapidly on, and at length themiller said, 'Bob is later than usual. Where can he be?'

As they both looked at her, she could no longer keep the secret. 

'It is my fault, ' she cried; 'I have driven him away! What shall I do?'

The nature of the quarrel was at once guessed, and her two elders said nomore. Anne rose and went to the front door, where she listened for everysound with a palpitating heart. Then she went in; then she went out: andon one occasion she heard the miller say, 'I wonder what hath passedbetween Bob and Anne. I hope the chap will come home. '

Just about this time light footsteps were heard without, and Bob bouncedinto the passage. Anne, who stood back in the dark while he passed, followed him into the room, where her mother and the miller were on thepoint of retiring to bed, candle in hand. 

'I have kept ye up, I fear, ' began Bob cheerily, and apparently withoutthe faintest recollection of his tragic exit from the house. 'But thetruth on't is, I met with Fess Derriman at the "Duke of York" as I wentfrom here, and there we have been playing Put ever since, not noticinghow the time was going. I haven't had a good chat with the fellow foryears and years, and really he is an out and out good comrade--a regularhearty! Poor fellow, he's been very badly used. I never heard therights of the story till now; but it seems that old uncle of his treatshim shamefully. He has been hiding away his money, so that poor Fessmight not have a farthing, till at last the young man has turned, likeany other worm, and is now determined to ferret out what he has done withit. The poor young chap hadn't a farthing of ready money till I lent hima couple of guineas--a thing I never did more willingly in my life. Butthe man was very honourable. "No; no, " says he, "don't let me depriveye. " He's going to marry, and what may you think he is going to do itfor?'

'For love, I hope, ' said Anne's mother. 

'For money, I suppose, since he's so short, ' said the miller. 

'No, ' said Bob, 'for _spite_. He has been badly served--deuced badlyserved--by a woman. I never heard of a more heartless case in my life. The poor chap wouldn't mention names, but it seems this young woman hastrifled with him in all manner of cruel ways--pushed him into the river, tried to steal his horse when he was called out to defend his country--inshort, served him rascally. So I gave him the two guineas and said, "Nowlet's drink to the hussy's downfall!"'

'O!' said Anne, having approached behind him. 

Bob turned and saw her, and at the same moment Mr. And Mrs. Lovedaydiscreetly retired by the other door. 

'Is it peace?' he asked tenderly. 

'O yes, ' she anxiously replied. 'I--didn't mean to make you think I hadno heart. ' At this Bob inclined his countenance towards hers. 'No, ' shesaid, smiling through two incipient tears as she drew back. 'You are toshow good behaviour for six months, and you must promise not to frightenme again by running off when I--show you how badly you have served me. '

'I am yours obedient--in anything, ' cried Bob. 'But am I pardoned?'

Youth is foolish; and does a woman often let her reasoning in favour ofthe worthier stand in the way of her perverse desire for the less worthyat such times as these? She murmured some soft words, ending with 'Doyou repent?'

It would be superfluous to transcribe Bob's answer. 

Footsteps were heard without. 

'O begad; I forgot!' said Bob. 'He's waiting out there for a light. '

'Who?'

'My friend Derriman. '

'But, Bob, I have to explain. '

But Festus had by this time entered the lobby, and Anne, with a hasty'Get rid of him at once!' vanished upstairs. 

Here she waited and waited, but Festus did not seem inclined to depart;and at last, foreboding some collision of interests from Bob's newfriendship for this man, she crept into a storeroom which was over theapartment into which Loveday and Festus had gone. By looking through aknot-hole in the floor it was easy to command a view of the room beneath, this being unceiled, with moulded beams and rafters. 

Festus had sat down on the hollow window-bench, and was continuing thestatement of his wrongs. 'If he only knew what he was sitting upon, ' shethought apprehensively, 'how easily he could tear up the flap, lock andall, with his strong arm, and seize upon poor Uncle Benjy's possessions!'But he did not appear to know, unless he were acting, which was justpossible. After a while he rose, and going to the table lifted thecandle to light his pipe. At the moment when the flame began diving intothe bowl the door noiselessly opened and a figure slipped across the roomto the window-bench, hastily unlocked it, withdrew the box, and beat aretreat. Anne in a moment recognized the ghostly intruder as FestusDerriman's uncle. Before he could get out of the room Festus set downthe candle and turned. 

'What--Uncle Benjy--haw, haw! Here at this time of night?'

Uncle Benjy's eyes grew paralyzed, and his mouth opened and shut like afrog's in a drought, the action producing no sound. 

'What have we got here--a tin box--the box of boxes? Why, I'll carry itfor 'ee, uncle!--I am going home. '

'N-no-no, thanky, Festus: it is n-n-not heavy at all, thanky, ' gasped thesquireen. 

'O but I must, ' said Festus, pulling at the box. 

'Don't let him have it, Bob!' screamed the excited Anne through the holein the floor. 

'No, don't let him!' cried the uncle. ''Tis a plot--there's a woman atthe window waiting to help him!'

Anne's eyes flew to the window, and she saw Matilda's face pressedagainst the pane. 

Bob, though he did not know whence Anne's command proceeded obeyed withalacrity, pulled the box from the two relatives, and placed it on thetable beside him. 

'Now, look here, hearties; what's the meaning o' this?' he said. 

'He's trying to rob me of all I possess!' cried the old man. 'My heart-strings seem as if they were going crack, crack, crack!'

At this instant the miller in his shirt-sleeves entered the room, havinggot thus far in his undressing when he heard the noise. Bob and Festusturned to him to explain; and when the latter had had his say Bob added, 'Well, all I know is that this box'--here he stretched out his hand tolay it upon the lid for emphasis. But as nothing but thin air met hisfingers where the box had been, he turned, and found that the box wasgone, Uncle Benjy having vanished also. 

Festus, with an imprecation, hastened to the door, but though the nightwas not dark Farmer Derriman and his burden were nowhere to be seen. Onthe bridge Festus joined a shadowy female form, and they went along theroad together, followed for some distance by Bob, lest they should meetwith and harm the old man. But the precaution was unnecessary: nowhereon the road was there any sign of Farmer Derriman, or of the box thatbelonged to him. When Bob re-entered the house Anne and Mrs. Loveday hadjoined the miller downstairs, and then for the first time he learnt whohad been the heroine of Festus's lamentable story, with many otherparticulars of that yeoman's history which he had never before known. Bobswore that he would not speak to the traitor again, and the familyretired. 

The escape of old Mr. Derriman from the annoyances of his nephew not onlyheld good for that night, but for next day, and for ever. Just afterdawn on the following morning a labouring man, who was going to his work, saw the old farmer and landowner leaning over a rail in a mead near hishouse, apparently engaged in contemplating the water of a brook beforehim. Drawing near, the man spoke, but Uncle Benjy did not reply. Hishead was hanging strangely, his body being supported in its erectposition entirely by the rail that passed under each arm. Onafter-examination it was found that Uncle Benjy's poor withered heart hadcracked and stopped its beating from damages inflicted on it by theexcitements of his life, and of the previous night in particular. Theunconscious carcass was little more than a light empty husk, dry andfleshless as that of a dead heron found on a moor in January. 

But the tin box was not discovered with or near him. It was searched forall the week, and all the month. The mill-pond was dragged, quarrieswere examined, woods were threaded, rewards were offered; but in vain. 

At length one day in the spring, when the mill-house was about to becleaned throughout, the chimney-board of Anne's bedroom, concealing ayawning fire-place, had to be taken down. In the chasm behind it stoodthe missing deed-box of Farmer Derriman. 

Many were the conjectures as to how it had got there. Then Anneremembered that on going to bed on the night of the collision betweenFestus and his uncle in the room below, she had seen mud on the carpet ofher room, and the miller remembered that he had seen footprints on theback staircase. The solution of the mystery seemed to be that the lateUncle Benjy, instead of running off from the house with his box, haddoubled on getting out of the front door, entered at the back, depositedhis box in Anne's chamber where it was found, and then leisurely pursuedhis way home at the heels of Festus, intending to tell Anne of his trickthe next day--an intention that was for ever frustrated by the stroke ofdeath. 

Mr. Derriman's solicitor was a Casterbridge man, and Anne placed the boxin his hands. Uncle Benjy's will was discovered within; and by thistestament Anne's queer old friend appointed her sole executrix of hissaid will, and, more than that, gave and bequeathed to the same younglady all his real and personal estate, with the solitary exception offive small freehold houses in a back street in Budmouth, which weredevised to his nephew Festus, as a sufficient property to maintain himdecently, without affording any margin for extravagances. Oxwell Hall, with its muddy quadrangle, archways, mullioned windows, crackedbattlements, and weed-grown garden, passed with the rest into the handsof Anne. 

XLI. JOHN MARCHES INTO THE NIGHT

During this exciting time John Loveday seldom or never appeared at themill. With the recall of Bob, in which he had been sole agent, hismission seemed to be complete. 

One mid-day, before Anne had made any change in her manner of living onaccount of her unexpected acquisition, Lieutenant Bob came in rathersuddenly. He had been to Budmouth, and announced to the arrested sensesof the family that the --th Dragoons were ordered to join Sir ArthurWellesley in the Peninsula. 

These tidings produced a great impression on the household. John hadbeen so long in the neighbourhood, either at camp or in barracks, thatthey had almost forgotten the possibility of his being sent away; andthey now began to reflect upon the singular infrequency of his callssince his brother's return. There was not much time, however, forreflection, if they wished to make the most of John's farewell visit, which was to be paid the same evening, the departure of the regimentbeing fixed for next day. A hurried valedictory supper was preparedduring the afternoon, and shortly afterwards John arrived. 

He seemed to be more thoughtful and a trifle paler than of old, butbeyond these traces, which might have been due to the natural wear andtear of time, he showed no signs of gloom. On his way through the townthat morning a curious little incident had occurred to him. He waswalking past one of the churches when a wedding-party came forth, thebride and bridegroom being Matilda and Festus Derriman. At sight of thetrumpet-major the yeoman had glared triumphantly; Matilda, on her part, had winked at him slily, as much as to say--. But what she meant heavenknows: the trumpet-major did not trouble himself to think, and passed onwithout returning the mark of confidence with which she had favoured him. 

Soon after John's arrival at the mill several of his friends dropped infor the same purpose of bidding adieu. They were mostly the men who hadbeen entertained there on the occasion of the regiment's advent on thedown, when Anne and her mother were coaxed in to grace the party by theirsuperior presence; and their well-trained, gallant manners were such asto make them interesting visitors now as at all times. For it was aperiod when romance had not so greatly faded out of military life as ithas done in these days of short service, heterogeneous mixing, andtransient campaigns; when the esprit de corps was strong, and longexperience stamped noteworthy professional characteristics even on rankand file; while the miller's visitors had the additional advantage ofbeing picked men. 

They could not stay so long to-night as on that earlier and more cheerfuloccasion, and the final adieus were spoken at an early hour. It was nomere playing at departure, as when they had gone to Exonbury barracks, and there was a warm and prolonged shaking of hands all round. 

'You'll wish the poor fellows good-bye?' said Bob to Anne, who had notcome forward for that purpose like the rest. 'They are going away, andwould like to have your good word. '

She then shyly advanced, and every man felt that he must make some prettyspeech as he shook her by the hand. 

'Good-bye! May you remember us as long as it makes ye happy, and forgetus as soon as it makes ye sad, ' said Sergeant Brett. 

'Good-night! Health, wealth, and long life to ye!' said Sergeant-majorWills, taking her hand from Brett. 

'I trust to meet ye again as the wife of a worthy man, ' said TrumpeterBuck. 

'We'll drink your health throughout the campaign, and so good-bye t'ye, 'said Saddler-sergeant Jones, raising her hand to his lips. 

Three others followed with similar remarks, to each of which Anneblushingly replied as well as she could, wishing them a prosperousvoyage, easy conquest, and a speedy return. 

But, alas, for that! Battles and skirmishes, advances and retreats, fevers and fatigues, told hard on Anne's gallant friends in the comingtime. Of the seven upon whom these wishes were bestowed, five, includingthe trumpet-major, were dead men within the few following years, andtheir bones left to moulder in the land of their campaigns. 

John lingered behind. When the others were outside, expressing a finalfarewell to his father, Bob, and Mrs. Loveday, he came to Anne, whoremained within. 

'But I thought you were going to look in again before leaving?' she saidgently. 

'No; I find I cannot. Good-bye!'

'John, ' said Anne, holding his right hand in both hers, 'I must tell yousomething. You were wise in not taking me at my word that day. I wasgreatly mistaken about myself. Gratitude is not love, though I wanted tomake it so for the time. You don't call me thoughtless for what I did?'

'My dear Anne, ' cried John, with more gaiety than truthfulness, 'don'tlet yourself be troubled! What happens is for the best. Soldiers lovehere to-day and there to-morrow. Who knows that you won't hear of myattentions to some Spanish maid before a month is gone by? 'Tis the wayof us, you know; a soldier's heart is not worth a week's purchase--ha, ha! Goodbye, good-bye!'

Anne felt the expediency of his manner, received the affectation as real, and smiled her reply, not knowing that the adieu was for evermore. Thenwith a tear in his eye he went out of the door, where he bade farewell tothe miller, Mrs. Loveday, and Bob, who said at parting, 'It's all right, Jack, my dear fellow. After a coaxing that would have been enough to winthree ordinary Englishwomen, five French, and ten Mulotters, she has to-day agreed to bestow her hand upon me at the end of six months. Good-bye, Jack, good-bye!'

The candle held by his father shed its waving light upon John's face anduniform as with a farewell smile he turned on the doorstone, backed bythe black night; and in another moment he had plunged into the darkness, the ring of his smart step dying away upon the bridge as he joined hiscompanions-in-arms, and went off to blow his trumpet till silenced forever upon one of the bloody battle-fields of Spain. 

Footnotes:

{207} _Vide_ Preface. 

{211} _Vide_ Preface. 

{225} _Vide_ Preface. 

{272} _Vide_ Preface. 

{303} _Vide_ Preface.