Hello,Welcome!Log In to My AccountorCreate Account

That evening Sally was making 'pinners' for the milkers, who were nowincreased by two, for her mother and herself no longer joined in milkingthe cows themselves. But upon the whole there was little change in thehousehold economy, and not much in its appearance, beyond such minorparticulars as that the crack over the window, which had been a hundredyears coming, was a trifle wider; that the beams were a shade blacker;that the influence of modernism had supplanted the open chimney corner bya grate; that Rebekah, who had worn a cap when she had plenty of hair,had left it off now she had scarce any, because it was reported that capswere not fashionable; and that Sally's face had naturally assumed a morewomanly and experienced cast.

Mrs. Hall was actually lifting coals with the tongs, as she had used todo.

'Five years ago this very night, if I am not mistaken--' she said, layingon an ember.

'Not this very night--though 'twas one night this week,' said the correctSally.

'Well, 'tis near enough. Five years ago Mr. Darton came to marry you,and my poor boy Phil came home to die.' She sighed. 'Ah, Sally,' shepresently said, 'if you had managed well Mr. Darton would have had you,Helena or none.'

'Don't be sentimental about that, mother,' begged Sally. 'I didn't careto manage well in such a case. Though I liked him, I wasn't so anxious.I would never have married the man in the midst of such a hitch as thatwas,' she added with decision; 'and I don't think I would if he were toask me now.'

'I am not sure about that, unless you have another in your eye.'

'I wouldn't; and I'll tell you why. I could hardly marry him for love atthis time o' day. And as we've quite enough to live on if we give up thedairy to-morrow, I should have no need to marry for any meaner reason . .. I am quite happy enough as I am, and there's an end of it.'

Now it was not long after this dialogue that there came a mild rap at thedoor, and in a moment there entered Rebekah, looking as though a ghosthad arrived. The fact was that that accomplished skimmer and churner(now a resident in the house) had overheard the desultory observationsbetween mother and daughter, and on opening the door to Mr. Dartonthought the coincidence must have a grisly meaning in it. Mrs. Hallwelcomed the farmer with warm surprise, as did Sally, and for a momentthey rather wanted words.

'Can you push up the chimney-crook for me, Mr Darton? the notches hitch,'said the matron. He did it, and the homely little act bridged over theawkward consciousness that he had been a stranger for four years.

Mrs. Hall soon saw what he had come for, and left the principals togetherwhile she went to prepare him a late tea, smiling at Sally's recent hastyassertions of indifference, when she saw how civil Sally was. When teawas ready she joined them. She fancied that Darton did not look soconfident as when he had arrived; but Sally was quite light-hearted, andthe meal passed pleasantly.

About seven he took his leave of them. Mrs. Hall went as far as the doorto light him down the slope. On the doorstep he said frankly--'I came toask your daughter to marry me; chose the night and everything, with aneye to a favourable answer. But she won't.'

'Then she's a very ungrateful girl!' emphatically said Mrs. Hall.

Darton paused to shape his sentence, and asked, 'I--I suppose there'snobody else more favoured?'

'I can't say that there is, or that there isn't,' answered Mrs. Hall.'She's private in some things. I'm on your side, however, Mr. Darton,and I'll talk to her.'

'Thank 'ee, thank 'ee!' said the farmer in a gayer accent; and with thisassurance the not very satisfactory visit came to an end. Dartondescended the roots of the sycamore, the light was withdrawn, and thedoor closed. At the bottom of the slope he nearly ran against a manabout to ascend.

'Can a jack-o'-lent believe his few senses on such a dark night, or can'the?' exclaimed one whose utterance Darton recognized in a moment, despiteits unexpectedness. 'I dare not swear he can, though I fain would!' Thespeaker was Johns.

Darton said he was glad of this opportunity, bad as it was, of putting anend to the silence of years, and asked the dairyman what he wastravelling that way for.

Japheth showed the old jovial confidence in a moment. 'I'm going to seeyour--relations--as they always seem to me,' he said--'Mrs. Hall andSally. Well, Charles, the fact is I find the natural barbarousness ofman is much increased by a bachelor life, and, as your leavings werealways good enough for me, I'm trying civilization here.' He noddedtowards the house.

'Not with Sally--to marry her?' said Darton, feeling something like arill of ice water between his shoulders.

'Yes, by the help of Providence and my personal charms. And I think Ishall get her. I am this road every week--my present dairy is only fourmiles off, you know, and I see her through the window. 'Tis rather oddthat I was going to speak practical to-night to her for the first time.You've just called?'

'Yes, for a short while. But she didn't say a word about you.'

'A good sign, a good sign. Now that decides me. I'll swing the malletand get her answer this very night as I planned.'

A few more remarks, and Darton, wishing his friend joy of Sally in aslightly hollow tone of jocularity, bade him good-bye. Johns promised towrite particulars, and ascended, and was lost in the shade of the houseand tree. A rectangle of light appeared when Johns was admitted, and allwas dark again.

'Happy Japheth!' said Darton. 'This then is the explanation!'

He determined to return home that night. In a quarter of an hour hepassed out of the village, and the next day went about his swede-liftingand storing as if nothing had occurred.

He waited and waited to hear from Johns whether the wedding-day wasfixed: but no letter came. He learnt not a single particular till,meeting Johns one day at a horse-auction, Darton exclaimedgenially--rather more genially than he felt--'When is the joyful day tobe?'

To his great surprise a reciprocity of gladness was not conspicuous inJohns. 'Not at all,' he said, in a very subdued tone. ''Tis a bad job;she won't have me.'

Darton held his breath till he said with treacherous solicitude, 'Tryagain--'tis coyness.'

'O no,' said Johns decisively. 'There's been none of that. We talked itover dozens of times in the most fair and square way. She tells meplainly, I don't suit her. 'Twould be simply annoying her to ask heragain. Ah, Charles, you threw a prize away when you let her slip fiveyears ago.'

'I did--I did,' said Darton.

He returned from that auction with a new set of feelings in play. He hadcertainly made a surprising mistake in thinking Johns his successfulrival. It really seemed as if he might hope for Sally after all.

This time, being rather pressed by business, Darton had recourse to pen-and-ink, and wrote her as manly and straightforward a proposal as anywoman could wish to receive. The reply came promptly:-

'DEAR MR. DARTON,--I am as sensible as any woman can be of the goodness that leads you to make me this offer a second time. Better women than I would be proud of the honour, for when I read your nice long speeches on mangold-wurzel, and such like topics, at the Casterbridge Farmers' Club, I do feel it an honour, I assure you. But my answer is just the same as before. I will not try to explain what, in truth, I cannot explain--my reasons; I will simply say that I must decline to be married to you. With good wishes as in former times, I am, your faithful friend,

'SALLY HALL.'

Darton dropped the letter hopelessly. Beyond the negative, there wasjust a possibility of sarcasm in it--'nice long speeches onmangold-wurzel' had a suspicious sound. However, sarcasm or none, therewas the answer, and he had to be content.

He proceeded to seek relief in a business which at this time engrossedmuch of his attention--that of clearing up a curious mistake just currentin the county, that he had been nearly ruined by the recent failure of alocal bank. A farmer named Darton had lost heavily, and the similarityof name had probably led to the error. Belief in it was so persistentthat it demanded several days of letter-writing to set matters straight,and persuade the world that he was as solvent as ever he had been in hislife. He had hardly concluded this worrying task when, to his delight,another letter arrived in the handwriting of Sally.

Darton tore it open; it was very short.

'DEAR MR. DARTON,--We have been so alarmed these last few days by the report that you were ruined by the stoppage of --'s Bank, that, now it is contradicted I hasten, by my mother's wish, to say how truly glad we are to find there is no foundation for the report. After your kindness to my poor brother's children, I can do no less than write at such a moment. We had a letter from each of them a few days ago.--Your faithful friend,

'SALLY HALL.'

'Mercenary little woman!' said Darton to himself with a smile. 'Thenthat was the secret of her refusal this time--she thought I was ruined.'

Now, such was Darton, that as hours went on he could not help feeling toogenerously towards Sally to condemn her in this. What did he want in awife? he asked himself. Love and integrity. What next? Worldly wisdom.And was there really more than worldly wisdom in her refusal to go aboarda sinking ship? She now knew it was otherwise. 'Begad,' he said, 'I'lltry her again.'

The fact was he had so set his heart upon Sally, and Sally alone, thatnothing was to be allowed to baulk him; and his reasoning was purelyformal.

Anniversaries having been unpropitious, he waited on till a bright daylate in May--a day when all animate nature was fancying, in its trusting,foolish way, that it was going to bask out of doors for evermore. As herode through Long-Ash Lane it was scarce recognizable as the track of histwo winter journeys. No mistake could be made now, even with his eyesshut. The cuckoo's note was at its best, between April tentativeness andmidsummer decrepitude, and the reptiles in the sun behaved as winninglyas kittens on a hearth. Though afternoon, and about the same time as onthe last occasion, it was broad day and sunshine when he entered Hintock,and the details of the Knap dairy-house were visible far up the road. Hesaw Sally in the garden, and was set vibrating. He had first intended togo on to the inn; but 'No,' he said; 'I'll tie my horse to the garden-gate. If all goes well it can soon be taken round: if not, I mount andride away'

The tall shade of the horseman darkened the room in which Mrs. Hall sat,and made her start, for he had ridden by a side path to the top of theslope, where riders seldom came. In a few seconds he was in the gardenwith Sally.

Five--ay, three minutes--did the business at the back of that row ofbees. Though spring had come, and heavenly blue consecrated the scene,Darton succeeded not. 'No,' said Sally firmly. 'I will never, nevermarry you, Mr. Darton. I would have done it once; but now I never can.'

'But!'--implored Mr. Darton. And with a burst of real eloquence he wenton to declare all sorts of things that he would do for her. He woulddrive her to see her mother every week--take her to London--settle somuch money upon her--Heaven knows what he did not promise, suggest, andtempt her with. But it availed nothing. She interposed with a stoutnegative, which closed the course of his argument like an iron gateacross a highway. Darton paused.

'Then,' said he simply, 'you hadn't heard of my supposed failure when youdeclined last time?'

'I had not,' she said. 'But if I had 'twould have been all the same.'

'And 'tis not because of any soreness from my slighting you years ago?'

'No. That soreness is long past.'

'Ah--then you despise me, Sally?'

'No,' she slowly answered. 'I don't altogether despise you. I don'tthink you quite such a hero as I once did--that's all. The truth is, Iam happy enough as I am; and I don't mean to marry at all. Now, may Iask a favour, sir?' She spoke with an ineffable charm, which, wheneverhe thought of it, made him curse his loss of her as long as he lived.

'To any extent.'

'Please do not put this question to me any more. Friends as long as youlike, but lovers and married never.'

'I never will,' said Darton. 'Not if I live a hundred years.'

And he never did. That he had worn out his welcome in her heart was onlytoo plain.

When his step-children had grown up, and were placed out in life, allcommunication between Darton and the Hall family ceased. It was only bychance that, years after, he learnt that Sally, notwithstanding thesolicitations her attractions drew down upon her, had refused severaloffers of marriage, and steadily adhered to her purpose of leading asingle life

May 1884.