XIV. LATER IN THE EVENING OF THE SAME DAY

When they reached home the sun was going down. It had already been

noised abroad that miller Loveday had received a letter, and, his cart

having been heard coming up the lane, the population of Overcombe drew

down towards the mill as soon as he had gone indoors--a sudden flash of

brightness from the window showing that he had struck such an early light

as nothing but the immediate deciphering of literature could require.

Letters were matters of public moment, and everybody in the parish had an

interest in the reading of those rare documents; so that when the miller

had placed the candle, slanted himself, and called in Mrs. Garland to

have her opinion on the meaning of any hieroglyphics that he might

encounter in his course, he found that he was to be additionally assisted

by the opinions of the other neighbours, whose persons appeared in the

doorway, partly covering each other like a hand of cards, yet each

showing a large enough piece of himself for identification. To pass the

time while they were arranging themselves, the miller adopted his usual

way 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, for

whom the letter had a singular fascination, came in with her mother and

sat down.

Bob stated in his own way that having, since landing, taken into

consideration his father's wish that he should renounce a seafaring life

and become a partner in the mill, he had decided to agree to the

proposal; and with that object in view he would return to Overcombe in

three days from the time of writing.

He then said incidentally that since his voyage he had been in lodgings

at Southampton, and during that time had become acquainted with a lovely

and virtuous young maiden, in whom he found the exact qualities necessary

to his happiness. Having known this lady for the full space of a

fortnight he had had ample opportunities of studying her character, and,

being struck with the recollection that, if there was one thing more than

another necessary in a mill which had no mistress, it was somebody who

could play that part with grace and dignity, he had asked Miss Matilda

Johnson to be his wife. In her kindness she, though sacrificing far

better prospects, had agreed; and he could not but regard it as a happy

chance that he should have found at the nick of time such a woman to

adorn his home, whose innocence was as stunning as her beauty. Without

much ado, therefore, he and she had arranged to be married at once, and

at Overcombe, that his father might not be deprived of the pleasures of

the wedding feast. She had kindly consented to follow him by land in the

course of a few days, and to live in the house as their guest for the

week or so previous to the ceremony.

''Tis a proper good letter,' said Mrs. Comfort from the background. 'I

never 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 Mitchell

dubiously.

'That's nothing,' said Esther Beach. 'Nater will find her way, very

rapid when the time's come for't. Well, 'tis good news for ye, miller.'

'Yes, sure, I hope 'tis,' said Loveday, without, however, showing any

great hurry to burst into the frantic form of fatherly joy which the

event should naturally have produced, seeming more disposed to let off

his feelings by examining thoroughly into the fibres of the letter-paper.

'I was five years a-courting my wife,' he presently remarked. 'But folks

were slower about everything in them days. Well, since she's coming we

must make her welcome. Did any of ye catch by my reading which day it is

he means? What with making out the penmanship, my mind was drawn off

from the sense here and there.'

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

fix it.'

On examination it was found that the day appointed was the one nearly

expired; at which the miller jumped up and said, 'Then he'll be here

before bedtime. I didn't gather till now that he was coming afore

Saturday. 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 the

neighbours and rushed out; and, seeing in the passage a form which

obscured the declining light, the miller seized hold of him, saying, 'O

my 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 himself

from Loveday's grasp of affection. It was Uncle Benjy.

'Thought 'twas my son!' faltered the miller, sinking back upon the toes

of the neighbours who had closely followed him into the entry. 'Well,

come in, Mr. Derriman, and make yerself at home. Why, you haven't been

here for years! Whatever has made you come now, sir, of all times in the

world?'

'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 tell

ye,' he said, 'that there's more news of the French. We shall have 'em

here this month as sure as a gun. The gunboats be all ready--near two

thousand of 'em--and the whole army is at Boulogne. And, miller, I know

ye to be an honest man.'

Loveday did not say nay.

'Neighbour Loveday, I know ye to be an honest man,' repeated the old

squireen. 'Can I speak to ye alone?'

As the house was full, Loveday took him into the garden, all the while

upon tenter-hooks, not lest Buonaparte should appear in their midst, but

lest Bob should come whilst he was not there to receive him. When they

had 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 but

wherrit 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 my

few poor title-deeds and documents and suchlike, while I am away from

home next week, lest anything should befall me, and they should be stole

away by Boney or Festus, and I should have nothing left in the wide

world? 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 that

Derriman should bring, whereupon the farmer said he would call with the

parchments and papers alluded to in the course of a week. Derriman then

went away by the garden gate, mounted his pony, which had been tethered

outside, and rode on till his form was lost in the shades.

The miller rejoined his friends, and found that in the meantime John had

arrived. John informed the company that after parting from his father

and Anne he had rambled to the harbour, and discovered the Pewit by the

quay. On inquiry he had learnt that she came in at eleven o'clock, and

that Bob had gone ashore.

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

doors.'

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 the

stiles which hampered the footpath from Overcombe to the high road at

intervals of a hundred yards. John Loveday, being obliged to return to

camp, was unable to accompany them, but Widow Garland thought proper to

fall in with the procession. When she had put on her bonnet she called

to her daughter. Anne said from upstairs that she was coming in a

minute; and her mother walked on without her.

What was Anne doing? Having hastily unlocked a receptacle for emotional

objects of small size, she took thence the little folded paper with which

we have already become acquainted, and, striking a light from her private

tinder-box, she held the paper, and curl of hair it contained, in the

candle till they were burnt. Then she put on her hat and followed her

mother and the rest of them across the moist grey fields, cheerfully

singing in an undertone as she went, to assure herself of her

indifference to circumstances.

The Trumpet-Major · 第 21 / 55 题