CONCLUSION.
There is nothing further left to be told of this story of the village
of Bullhampton and its Vicar beyond what may be necessary to satisfy
the reader as to the condition and future prospects of the Brattle
family. The writer of these pages ventures to hope that whatever may
have been the fate in the readers' mind of that couple which are
about to settle themselves peaceably at Dunripple, and to wait there
in comfort till their own time for reigning shall have come, some
sympathy may have been felt with those humbler personages who have
lived with orderly industry at the mill,--as, also, with those who,
led away by disorderly passions, have strayed away from it, and have
come back again to the old home.
For a couple of days after the return of the miller with his daughter
and son, very little was said about the past;--very little, at
least, in which either the father or Sam took any part. Between the
two sisters there were no doubt questions and answers by the hour
together as to every smallest detail of the occurrences at Salisbury.
And the mother almost sang hymns of joy over her child, in that the
hour which she had so much dreaded had passed by. But the miller said
not a word;--and Sam was almost equally silent. "But it be all over,
Sam?" asked his mother, anxiously one day. "For certain sure it be
all over now?"
"There's one, mother, for whom it ain't all over yet;--poor devil."
"But he was the--murderer, Sam."
"So was t'other fellow. There weren't no difference. If one was more
spry to kill t'old chap than t'other, Acorn was the spryest. That's
what I think. But it's done now, and there ain't been much justice in
it. As far as I sees, there never ain't much justice. They was nigh
a-hanging o' me; and if those chaps had thought o' bringing t'old
man's box nigh the mill, instead of over by t'old woman's cottage,
they would a hung me;--outright. And then they was twelve months
about it! I don't think much on 'em." When his mother tried to
continue the conversation,--which she would have loved to do with
that morbid interest which we always take in a matter which has been
nearly fatal to us, but from which we have escaped,--Sam turned into
the mill, saying that he had had enough of it, and wouldn't have any
more.
Then, on the third day, a report of the trial in a county newspaper
reached them. This the miller read all through, painfully, from the
beginning to the end, omitting no detail of the official occurrences.
At last, when he came to the account of Sam's evidence, he got up
from the chair on which he was sitting close to the window, and
striking his fist upon the table, made his first and last comment
upon the trial. "It was well said, Sam. Yes; though thou be'est my
own, it was well said." Then he put the paper down and walked out of
doors, and they could see that his eyes were full of tears.
But from that time forth there came a great change in his manner to
his youngest daughter. "Well, Carry," he would say to her in the
morning, with as much outward sign of affection as he ever showed to
any one; and at night, when she came and stood over him before he
lifted his weary limbs out of his chair to take himself away to his
bed, he turned his forehead to her to be kissed, as he did to that
better daughter who had needed no forgiveness from him. Nevertheless,
they who knew him,--and there were none who knew him better than
Fanny did,--were aware that he never for a moment forgot the disgrace
which had fallen upon his household. He had forgiven the sinner, but
the shame of the sin was always on him; and he carried himself as a
man who was bound to hide himself from the eyes of his neighbours
because there had come upon him a misfortune which made it fit that
he should live in retirement.
Sam took up his abode in the house, and worked daily in the mill,
and for weeks nothing was said either of his going away or of his
return. He would talk to his sisters of the manner in which he had
worked among the machinery of the Durham mine at which he had found
employment; but he said nothing for awhile of the cause which had
taken him north, or of his purpose of remaining where he was. He ate
and drank in the house, and from time to time his father paid him
small sums as wages. At last, sitting one evening after the work of
the day was done, he spoke out his mind. "Father," said he, "I'm
about minded to get me a wife." His mother and sisters were all there
and heard the proposition made.
"And who is the girl as is to have thee, Sam?" asked his mother.
As Sam did not answer at once, Carry replied for him. "Who should it
be, mother;--but only Agnes Pope?"
"It ain't that 'un?" said the miller, surlily.
"And why shouldn't it be that 'un, father? It is that 'un, and no
other. If she be not liked here, why, we'll just go further, and
perhaps not fare worse."
There was nothing to be said against poor Agnes Pope,--only this,
that she had been in Trumbull's house on the night of the murder, and
had for awhile been suspected by the police of having communicated
to her lover the tidings of the farmer's box of money. Evil things
had of course been said of her then, but the words spoken of her had
been proved to be untrue. She had been taken from the farmer's house
into that of the Vicar,--who had, indeed, been somewhat abused by
the Puddlehamites for harbouring her; but as the belief in Sam's
guilt had gradually been abandoned, so, of course, had the ground
disappeared for supposing that poor Agnes had had ought to do in
bringing about the murder of her late master. For two days the miller
was very gloomy, and made no reply when Sam declared his purpose of
leaving the mill before Christmas unless Agnes should be received
there as his wife;--but at last he gave way. "As the old 'uns go into
their graves," he said, "it's no more than nature that the young 'uns
should become masters." And so Sam was married, and was taken, with
his wife, to live with the other Brattles at the mill. It was well
for the miller that it should be so, for Sam was a man who would
surely earn money when he put his shoulder in earnest to the wheel.
As for Carry, she lived still with them, doomed by her beauty, as was
her elder sister by the want of it, to expect that no lover should
come and ask her to establish with him a homestead of their own.
Our friend the Vicar married Sam and his sweetheart, and is still
often at the mill. From time to time he has made efforts to convert
the unbelieving old man whose grave is now so near to his feet; but
he has never prevailed to make the miller own even the need of any
change. "I've struv' to be honest," he said, when last he was thus
attacked, "and I've wrought for my wife and bairns. I ain't been a
drunkard, nor yet, as I knows on, neither a tale-bearer, nor yet a
liar. I've been harsh-tempered and dour enough I know, and maybe it's
fitting as they shall be hard and dour to me where I'm going. I don't
say again it, Muster Fenwick;--but nothing as I can do now 'll change
it." This, at any rate, was clear to the Vicar,--that Death, when it
came, would come without making the old man tremble.
Mr. Gilmore has been some years away from Bullhampton; but when I
last heard from my friends in that village I was told that at last he
was expected home.
Bradbury, Evans, and Co., Printers, Whitefriars.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Chapter I, paragraph 10. The reader should note that the
town of Haylesbury named in this paragraph is henceforth
called Haytesbury.
Chapter IV, paragraph 1. The gardener is here called
"Jem;" in the rest of the text he is called "Jim". We
do not know whether this is a typographical error or
an example of Trollope's inconsistency with the names
of minor characters.
Chapter XL, paragraph 28. The astute reader of Trollope
will recognize the "Dragon of Wantley" as the name of
the hostelry inherited by Mr. Harding's daughter Eleanor
in the "Barsetshire" novels.
Specific changes in wording of the text are listed below.
Chapter I, next-to-last paragraph. The name "Chamerblaine"
was changed to "Chamberlaine" in the sentence: His mother
had been the sister of the Rev. Henry Fitzackerly
Chamberlaine; and as Mr. CHAMBERLAINE had never married,
much of his solicitude was bestowed upon his nephew.
Chapter III, paragraph 7. Full stop after "bugglary"
was changed to a question mark in the sentence: Not
bugglary?"
Chapter IX, paragraph 6. The word "could't" was changed
to "couldn't" in the sentence: She drank two glasses of
Marsala every day, and let it be clearly understood that
she COULDN'T afford sherry.
Chapter XXII, paragraph 1. "Bullhampton" was changed to
"Lavington" in the sentence: He, being an energetic man,
carried on a long and angry correspondence with the
authorities aforesaid; but the old man from LAVINGTON
continued to toddle into the village just at eleven
o'clock.
Chapter XXVIII, paragraph 9. The word "shoudn't" was
changed to "shouldn't" in the sentence: "I suppose
not, Mr. Fenwick. I SHOULDN'T ought;--ought I, now?
Chapter XXXII, paragraph 26. The word "friend's" was
changed to the plural "friends'" in the sentence:
Had not this dangerous captain come up, Mary, no
doubt,--so thought Miss Marrable,--would at last have
complied with her FRIENDS' advice, and have accepted
a marriage which was in all respects advantageous.
Chapter XXXV, paragraph 3. The word "began" was
changed to "begun" in the sentence: . . . and had
long since BEGUN to feel that a few cabbages and
peaches did not repay him for the loss of those
pleasant and bitter things, . . .
Chapter XXXIX, paragraph 13. "Gay" was changed to "Jay"
in the sentence: Mrs. JAY, no doubt, is a religious
woman. We do not know whether this was a typographical
error or another example of Trollope's inconsistency
with names of minor characters.
Chapter XLII, paragraph 5. A hyphen was removed from
"any-rate" in the sentence: His gown was of silk, and
his income almost greater than his desires; but he
would fain sit upon the Bench, and have at ANY RATE
his evenings for his own enjoyment.
Chapter XLII, paragraph 6. The word "that" was
removed from the sentence: Mr. Quickenham was a tall,
thin man, with eager gray eyes, and a long projecting
nose, on which, his enemies in the courts of law were
wont to say, [THAT] his wife would hang a kettle, in
order that the unnecessary heat coming from his mouth
might not be wasted.
Chapter XLVIII, paragraph 2. The word "injustice" was
changed to "justice" in the sentence: He reminded
himself, too, of the murderer's present escape from
JUSTICE by aid of this pestilent clergyman; . . .
Chapter XLVIII, paragraph 4. "St." was added to the
sentence: He had already told St. George of Fenwick's
letter to him and of his letter to the bishop, and
ST. George had whistled.
Chapter XLIX, paragraph 21. The words "much as" were
added to the sentence: I believe I owe as much to
you,--almost as MUCH AS a woman can owe to a man;
but still, were my cousin so placed that he could
afford to marry a poor wife, I should leave you and
go to him at once.