Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 22 February 1894 — Page 2

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In all the accaunt3 which Henchard had given her of the separation from his wife Susan for so many years, of his belief in her death, and 60 on, he had never clearly explained the actual and immediate cause of that separation. The story she now heard for the first time.

A gradual misery overspreac Lucetta's face as she dwelt upon the promise wrung from her the night before, At bottom, then, Henchard was this. How terrible a contingency for a woman who should commit herself to his care!

During the day she went out to the Ring, and to other places, not coming in until nearly dusk. As 600n as she saw Elizabeth Jane, after hrr return indoors, she told her that she had resolved to go away from home to the seaside for a few days— to Port Breedy. Casterbridge was so gloomy. Eiizabeth Jane, seeing that she looked wan and disturbed, encouraged her in the idea, thinking a change would afford her relief. She could not help suspecting that the gloom which had seemed to have come over Casterbridge in Lucetta's eves might be partially owing to the fact that Farfrae was away from home.

Elizabeth Jane saw her friend depart for Port Breedy, and took charge of High Street Hall till her return. After two or three days of solitude and incessant rain, Henchard called at the house. He seemed disappointed to hear of Lucetta's absence, and though he nodded with outwai'd indifferance, he went away handling his beard with a nettled mien.

The next day he called again. "Is she come now?" he asked. "Yes she returned this morning," replied his step-daughter. "But 6he is not indoors. She lias gone for a walk along the turnpike road to Port Breedy. She will be home by dusk." "After a few words, which only served to reveal his restless impatience, he left the house again.

CHAPTER XXIX.

At this hour Lucetta was bounding along the ro.id to Port Breedy just as Elizabeth Jane had announced. That she had chosen for her afternoon walk the road along which she had returned to Casterbridge three hours earlier in a carriage was curious—if anything should be called curious in concatenations of phenomena wherein each is known to have its accounting cause. It was the day of the chief market—Saturday—and Farfrae for once had been missed from his corn stand in the dealers' room. Nevertheless, it was known that he would be home that night— "for Sunday," as Casterbridge expressed it.

Lucetta, in continuing her walk, had at length reached the end of the ranked trees which bordered the highway in this and other directions out of the town. This end marked a mile, and here she stopped.

The spot was a vale between two gentle acclivities, and the road still adhering to its Roman foundation, stretched onward straight as a surveyor's line till lost to sight on the most distant ridge. There was neither hedge nor tree in the prospect now, the road clinging to the stubby expanse of corn land like a stripe to an undulating garment. Near her was a barn—the single building of any kind within her horizon.

She strained her eyes up the lessening road, but nothing appeared thereon, not so much as a,-speck. She sighed one word, "Donald!" and turned her face to the town for retreat.

Here the case was different. A single figure was approaching her— Elizabeth Jane's.

Lucetta, in spite of her loneliness, seemed a little vexed. Elizabeth came on her face shaping itself into affectionate lines, while yet beyond speaking distance, as soon as she recognized her friend. "I suddenly thought I would come and |*?tneet you," she said, smiling.

Lucetta's reply was taken from

her lips by an unexpected diversion. 5 A by-road on her right hand descended from the fields into the highway at the point where she stood, and down the track a bull was rambling uncertainly toward her and

Elizabeth, who, facing the other way, did not observe him. In the last quarter of each year cattle were at once the mainstay and the terror of families about Castsrbridge and its neighborhood. The feead of stock driven into and out of

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BY THOMAS HARDY-

usual for it seemed that the old

CHAPTER XXVIII—CONTINUED

Henchard left the chair and came the town at this season to be sold by out of the court, passing through the local auctioneer was very large a group of people on the steps out-! a^a al! these horned bea«ts, in travil «. *i, eling to and fro, sent women and Side that was much larger than'

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furmity dealer had mysteriously would have walked along quietly hinted to the denizens of the lane in enough, but the C^storbridge tradiwbich she had been lodging since tion was that to drive stock it was her arrival that she knew a queer indispensable that hideous cries, thing or two about their great local coupled with Yahoo antics and gestnau, Mr. Henchard, if she chose to tures, should be used, large sticks tell it. This had brought them flourished, stray dogs called in, and hither. in general everything done that "Why are there so many idlers was likely to infuriate the viciously about the Town Hall today?" said disposed and terrify the mild. NothLucetta to her servant, when the ing was commoner than for a housecase was over. She had risen late, holder on going out of his parlor to and had just looked out of the win- find his hall or passage full of little dow. children, nurse-maids, or aged "Oh, please, ma'am,'tis this larry women. who apologized for their about Mr. Henchard. A woman ha? presence by saying, "Bull passing proved that when he was a young down scrcet fromthe sale man he sold his wife for five guineas in a booth at a fair."

he animals

Lucetta and Elizabeth regarded the animal in doubt, he meanwhile drawing vaguely toward them. It was a large sp?cimen of the breed in color rich dun, though disfigured at present by splotches of mud about his seamv sides. His horns were thick and tipped with brass his two nostrils like the Thames Tunnel as I seen in the perspective toys of yore.

Between them, through the gristle of his nose, was a stout copper ring, welded on, and irremovable as Gurth's collar of brass. To the ring was attached an ash staff about a yard long, which the bull with the motions of his head flung about like a flail.

It was not till they observed this dangling stick that the young women were really alarmed for it revealed to them that the bull was an old one, too savage to be driven, which had in'some way escaped, the staff being the means "by which the drover controlled him, and kept his horns at arm's length.

They "looked round for some shelter or hiding plaec. and thought of the barn hard by. As long as they had kept fcheir eyes on the bull he had shown some deference in his manner of approach but no sooner did they turn their backs to seek the barn than he tossed his head, and decided that his mood should be rage. This caused the two helpless girls to ruvi kvjIJ'.j, whereupon the bull advanced ir. Tat'Ious charge.

The barn stood behind a green slimy pond, and it was closed, with the exception of one of the usual pair of doors facing them, which had been propped open by a hurdle stake and for this opening they made. The interior had been cleared by a recent bout of threshing, except at one end, where there was a stack of clover. Elizabeth Jane took in the situation. "We must climb up there," she said, hurriedly.

But before they had even approached it they heard the bull scampering through the pond without, and in a second he dashed into the barn, knocking down the hurdlestick in passing, so that the heavy dooi slammed behind him. The mistaken creature saw them, and with lowered head, plunged toward the end cf the barn into which they had fled. The girls quickly doubled, so adroitly, indeed, that their pursuer's horns struck against the wall when the fugitives were already half-way to the other end. By the time that his length would allow him to turn and follow them thither, they had crossed over and thus the pursuit went on, not a moment being attainable, by Elizabeth or Lucetta in which to open the door. It was possible that the impact of his horns upon the stone work had caused the bull some pain, for he was more violent than ever. "Don't turn your back on him," cried Elizabeth Jane. "We made a mistake in doing that. If I could get hold of the leading-stick perhaps I could manage him."

Lucetta was too terrified to heed or hear what her younger companion said. She looked so lilly-like that the other beseeched: "Keep up, keep up, dear and move behind me! Could you open the door if I were to to draw him off this way?" "Oh, no, no! I cannot. I wish he would come! It is all over with us now!"

Elizabeth Jane being much the cooler as well as the stronger, had, whilst Lucetta was speaking, by a combination of dexterity and courage, darted forward and seized the staff affixed to the bull. So accustomed had the animal been to obey the holder of that staff, that for a moment—such is discipline^— he seemed quite cowed, while the girl cried to Lucetta, "Climb the clover stack!" But the bull, soon finding that he was in new and fragile hands began swaying his head this way and that, dragging Elizabeth with him as if she were a reed.

Her danger was imminent, and her sole chance lay in keeping the staff extended, while a thrust against the wall might probably have ended her. "I can hold on no longer," she gasped, the hot air of her antagonist's nostrils blowing over her like a sirocco. She suddenly let go and scrambled up the clover by a short ladder which lay half buried in the stack. Reaching the top she was comparatively safe, unless the bull should undermine the stack which was but loosely piled He contented himself, however, for the present, with knocking kown the ladder. She now looked round for Lucetta, whom she believed to have gone up before her. But Lucetta was not behind

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her anywhere, and in a few instants to her horror, she perceived her companion at the other and vacant end of the barn, whether she had run in her bewilderment, while Elizabeth I was engaged with the animal.

The bull, too, saw Lucetta now, and depressed his horns with deliberate aim, as if he felt there was plenty of time at last to do the thing well. A rattling at the door distracted him. In a moment a man burst in, plunged toward the lead ing-staff, seized it, and wrenched the animal's head as if he would snap it off. The wrench was in reality so violent that the thick neck seemed to have lost its stiffness and to become half paralyzed, whilst the nose spat blood. The premediated human contrivance of the nose-ring was too cunning for impulsive brute force, and the creature quailed.

The man was seen in the partial gloom to be large-framed, active and unhesitating. He quickly led the bull to the door, and the light revealed Henchard. He made the bull fast without, and re-entered to the succor of Lucetta, for he had not perceived Elizabeth Jane in her perch aloft. Lucetta was hysterical and Henchard took her in his arms and carried her to the door. "You—have saved me!" she cried, as soon as she could speak. "I have returned your kindness," he responded tenderly. "You once saved me." "How—comes it to be you—you?" she asked, not heeding him. "Fortunately I came out here to look for you. I have been wanting to tell you something these two or three days but you have been away and I could not. Perhaps you cannot talk now?"

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4Oh—no.

Elizabeth Jane soon found the muff, such an article being by no means small at that time. Coming out, she paused to look for a moment at the bull, now rather to be pitied with his bleeding nose. Henchard had secured him by jamming the staff into the hinge of the barn door, and wedging it there with a stake. At length she turned to hasten onward after her contemplation, when she saw a green-and-black gig approaching from the contrary direction, the vehicle being driven by Farfrae.

His presence here seemed to explain Lucetta's walk that way. Donald saw her, drew up, and was hastily made acquainted with what had occurred. At Elizabeth Jane mentioning how greatly Lucetta's life had been jeopardized, he exhibited an agitation different in kind no less than in intensity from any she had seen in him before. He became so absorbed in the circumstances that he scarcely had sufficient knowledge of what he was doing to think of helping her up beside him. "She has gone on with Mr. Henchard, you say?" he inquired at last. "Yes. He is taking her home. They are almost there by this time." "And you are sure she can get home?"

Elizabeth Jane was.quite sure. "Your stepfather saved her?" "Entirely." Farfrae checked his horse's pace she guessed why. He was thinking that it would be best not to intrude on the other two just now. Henchai'd had saved Lucetta, and to provoke a possible exhibition of her deeper affection for himself was as ungenerous as it was unwise.

The immediate subject of their talk being exhausted, she felt more embarassed at sitting thus beside her past lover but soon the two figures of the others were visible at the entrance of the town. The face of the woman was frequently turned back, but Farfrae did not whip on the horse When these reached the town walls, Henchard and his companion had disappeared down the street Farfrae set down Elizabeth Jane, on her expresssing a particular wish to alight there, and drove round to the stables at the back of his lodgings.

On this account he entered the house through his garden, and going up to his apartments, found them in a particularly disturbed state, his boxes being hauled out upon the landing, and his bookcase standing in three pieces. These phenomena, however, seemed to cause him not the least surprise. "When will everything be sent up?" he said to the mistress of the house, who was superintending. "I r.m afraid not) before eight, sir," said she. "You see we wasn't aware till this morning that you were going to move, or we could have been forwarder." "A well, never mind, never mind!" said Farfrae, cheerily. "Eight o'clock will do well enough, if it be not later No\f. don't you be standing here talking, or it will be twelve, I doubt." Thus speaking, he went out by the front door and up the street."

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Where is Elizabeth

"Here am I!" cried the missing one, cheerfully and without waiting for the ladder to be placed, she slid down the face of the clover stack to the floor. were up there!" thank God, 'tis all always protects us expect Him to."

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"I thought you she said. "But right now. He when we don't

Henchard supporting Lucetta on one side, and Elizabeth Jane on the other, they went slowly along the rising road. They had reached the top, and were descending again, when Lucetta, now much recovered, recollected that she had left her muff in the barn. "I'll run back," said Elizabeth Jane. "I don't mind it at all, as I am not as tired as you are." She thereupon hastened down again to the barn, the others pursuing their way.

During this interval Henchard and Lucetta had had experiences of a different kind. After Elizabeth's departure for the muff the corn-mer-chant opened himself frankly, holding her hand within his arm, though she would fain have withdrawn it. "I have been very, very anxious to see you these two or three days," he said, "ever since I saw you last. I have thought over the way I got your promise that night. You said to me, "If I were a man I should not insist.' That cut me deep. I felt that there was truth in it. 1 don't want to make you wretched, and to marry me just now would do that as nothing else could it is but to. p'ain. Therefore I agree to an indefinite engagement—to put off all thought of marriage for a year or two," "But—but—can I do nothing of a different kind?" said Lucetta. "I am full of gratitude to you you have saved my life. And your care of me is like coa's of fire on my head. I am rich. Surely I can do something in r-eturn for your goodness— something practical."

Henchard remained in thought. He had evidently not expected this. "There is one thing you might do, Lucetta he said. "But not exactly of that kind." "Then of what kind is it?" she asked, with renewed misgiving. "I must tell you a secret to ask it. You may have heard that I have been unlucky this«year. I did what I have never done before—speculated rashly and I lost. That's just put me in a strait." "And you would wish me to advance some money?" "No, HO," said Henchard, almost in anger. "I am not the man to sponge on a woman, even though she mav be so nearly my own o,s you. No, Lucetta what you can do is this and it would save me. My great creditor is Grower, and it is at his hands I shall suffer, if at anybody's while a fortnight's forbearance on his part would be enough to allow me to pull through. This may be gat out of him in one way—that you would let it be known to him that vou are my intended—that we are to be quietly married in the next fortnight. Now stop, you haven't heard all. Let him have this storv, without, of course, any prejudice to the fact that the actual engagement between us is very thin and remote. Nobody else need know you could go with me to Mr. Grower, and just let me speak to ye before him as if we were on such terms. We'il ask him to keep it a secret. He will will'ngl wait then. At the fortnight's end I shall be able to face him and I can coolly tell him all is postponed between us for a year or two. Not a soul in the town need know how you've helped me. Since you wish to be of use, there's your way."

It being now what the people call the "pinking in" of the day, that is, the quarter hour before dusk, he did not at first observe the result of his words upon her. "If it were anything else," she began, and the dryness of her lips was represented in her voice. "But it is such a little thing!" he said, with a deep reproach. "Less than you have offered just the seeming to do what you have so lately promised. I could have told him as much myself, but he would not have believed me." "It is not because I won't—it is because I absolutely can't," she said, with rising distress. "You are provoking!" he burst out. "It is enough to make me force you to abide by what you have promised." "I cannot," she insisted desperately. "Why? When I have only within these few few minutes released you from your promise to do the real thing off-hand." "Because—he was a witness." "Witness! Of what?" 0 "If I must tell you Don't, don't upbraid me." "Well? Let's hear what you mean?" "Witness of my marriage—Mr. Grower was." "Marriage?" "Yes. With Mr. Farfrae. I am already his wife. We were man ied this week at Port Breedy. There were reasons against our doing it here. Mr. Grower was a witness because he happened to be at Port Breedy at the time."

Henchard stood as if idiotized. She was so alarmed at his silence that she murmured something about lending him sufficient money to tide over the perilous fortnight. "Married him?" said Henchard at length. "My good What, married him, whilst bound to marry me?" "It was like this," she explained, with tears in her eyes and quavers in her voice "don't—don't be cruel! I loved him so much, and I thought you might tell him of the past—and that grieved me. And then, whon I had promised you, I learned of the rumor that you had—sold your first wife at a fair, like a horse or a cow. How could I keep my promise after hearing that? I could not risk my life in your hands it would have been letting myself down to take your name after suoh a scandal. But I knew I should lose Donald if I did not secure him at once—for you would carry out your threat of telling him our relations, as long as there was a chance of keeping me for yourself by doing so. But you will not do so now, will you, will you, Michael for it is too late to separate us?"

The note of St. Jude's bells in full peal had been wafted to them while she spoke and now the thumping of the town band, renowned for its

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unstinted use of the drumstick, throbbed down the street. "Then this racket they are making is on account of it, I suppose?" said he. "Yes—I think he has told them, or else Mr. Grower has. May I leave you now? My—he was detained at Port Breedy to-day, and sent me on a few hours before him." "Then it is his wife's life I have saved this afternoon?" "Yes—and he will be forever grateful to you." "I am much obliged to him. Oh, you false woman!" burst from Henchard. "You promised me!" "Yes, yes. But it was under compulsion, and I did not know all your past "And now I've a mind to punish 'ee as you deserve! One word to this brand new husband, and your precious happiness is blown to atoms." "Michael—pity me, and be generous." "You don't, deserve pity." "I'll help you pay off your debt." "A pensioner of Farfrae's wife— not I! Don't stay with me longer— I shall say something worse. Go home."

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

CHAPTER XXX.

Farfrae's words to his landlady had referred to the removal of his boxes and other effects from his late lodgings to Lucetta's house. The work was not heavy, but it had been much hindered on account of the frequent pauses necessitated by exclamations of surprise at the event, of which she had been briefly informed by letter a few hours earlier.

At the last moment of leaving Port Breedy, Farfrae, like John Gilpin, had been detained by important customers, whom, even in the exceptional circumstances, he was not the man to neglect. Moreover, there was a convenience in Lucetta arriving first at her house. Nobody there as yet, knew what had happened and she was best in a position to break the news to the inmates, and give directions for her husband's accommodation. He had, therefore. sent on his two days' bride in a hired brougham, whilst he went across the country to a certain group of wheat and barley ricks a few miles off, telling her the hour at which he might be expected the same evening. This accounted for her trotting out to meet him after the separation of four hours.

By a strenuous effort, after leaving Henchard, she calmed herself in readiness to meet Donald at High Street Hall when he came on from his lodging. One supreme fact empowered her to this, the sense that, come what would, she had secured him. Half and hour after her arrival he walked in, and she met him with a relieved gladness which a month's perilous absence could not have intensified. "There is one thing I have not done, and yet it is important," she said, earnestly, when she had finished talking about the adventure with the bull "that is broken the news of our marriage to my dear Elizabeth Jane." "Ah, and you have not," he said, thoughtfully. "I gave her a lift from the barn homeward but I did not tell her either, for I thought she might have heard of it in the town, and was keeping buck her congratulations from shyn-ess, and all that." "She can hardly have heard of it, But I'll find out I'll go to her now. And Donald, you don't mind her living on with me just the same as before? She is so quiet and unassuming." "Oh, no indeed I don't," Farfrae answered, with perhaps a faint awkwardness. "But I wonder if she would care to?" "Oh, yes," said Lucetta, eagerly. "I am sure she would like to. Besides, poor thing, she has no other home.'

Farfrae looked at her, and saw that she did not suspect the secret of her more reserved friend. He liked her all the better for the blindness. "Arrange as you like with her by all means," he said. "It is I who have come to your house, not you to mine." "I'll run and speak to her," said Lucetta.

When she got upstairs to Elizabeth Jane's room, the latter had taken off her out-door things, and was resting over a book. Lucetta found in a moment that she had not as yet learned the news. "I did not come down to you, Miss Templeman," she said simply. "I was coming to ask if you had quite recovered from your fright, but I found you had a visitor. What are the bells ringing for, I wonder, and the band, too, is playing. Somebody must be married: or else they are practicing for Christmas."

Lucetta uttered a vague "Yes," and seated herself by the other young woman looking musingly at her, "What a lonely cieature you are," she presently said "never knowing what's going on, or whal people are talking about everywhere with keen interest. You should get out and gossip about as other women do, and then you wouldn't be obliged to ask me a question of that kind. Well, now I have something to tell you."

Elizabeth Jane said she was sc glad, and made herself receptive. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

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CONGRESSIONAL AMENITIES,

Fanny Phases of the Tariff Debate--A Very "Loud" Coat.

Ext. Con. Proceedings, Jan. 96,18M. It was while this amendment was being considered that the flrst'scene" of the day transpired. Mr. Cannon jokingly said that he desired to call the attention of his colleague (MrHunter) to the fact that if this amendment carried, his (Mr. Hunt-/ er's) speech of thirty years' standing would be destroyed. Mr. Hunter made a bitter reply, which he concluded by saying that in this house he never had been and never would be guilty of the vulgarity and indecency which had for two years driven that gentleman into political exile. Hisses and jeers from the Republican side greeted this reference to the incident, and in a moment Mr. Cannon was on his feet, a burning flush upon his cheek. He had been in Congress for twenty years, he said, his coll'eague was serving his first term. His reference to that gentleman's speech had been entirely goodnatured. For twenty-five years upon the hustings, he bad heard his colleague wrap his coat around him (as he said this Mr. Cannon in imitation of Mr. Hunter, drew himself up in mock solemnity) and begin by saying he stood for the common people, whose clothes were taxed 80 per cent., whose shelter was taxed 50 per cent., while the diamonds of the rich were taxed only 10 per cent. With that text for twenty-five 3rears he had stumped Illinois and concluded with uplifted eyes and glowing peroration by saying that not all the blood of the crucified Christ on calvary could wipe out such infamy. (Laughter.) "And now." continued Mr. Cannon, "the gentleman comes here ana drags in a reference to a remark I made in the Fifty-first congress in the hurry of running debate, a remark that was misrepresented all over the country. He does this with the true instinct of an unfair debater. I will not characterize this the subterfuge of a weak man. (Prolonged Republican applause.)

Mr. Hunter disclaimed any intention of misrepresentation and withdrew what he had said.

A Path otic Sjjau.

St. Louis Globe-Damojrat. "One of the most pathetic scenes that ever came under my observation," said E. D. Ennis, "was at a country store on the Big Sandy river, in West Virginia. I wa3 thare as a special postoffice inspactor, and was sitting in the store one bitterly cold night. The wind howled dismally through the trees on the mountain side, blowing gusts of snow down the wide chimney into the fire-place at the end of the store room. The door opened, anl a feeble old woman, wearing a thin calico dress and a faded sun-bonnet, came in timidly, as if fearing bad news. 'I don't reckon you aint' got nothin' for me,' she said «to the store-keeper. 'Yes I've got a letter,' and the old woman clutched it to her bosom as if it was the dearest thing on earth to her, and with a quick step, born of happiness, she walked out, 'I wrote that letter myself,' said the store-keeper tome.: 'Her son went down to t^e river on a raft three years ago and was drowned. The old wous-n could never understand that the boy was dead, and she writes to him every week, just backing her letters, "My Bill, Down the River." It hi^rts her so not to get any answers that every week I write to her and sign. Bill's name.'

For Sale—A Good Family Horse. This notice appeared in a late issue of the Hawkinsville (Ga.) Dispatch: "We have a good, gentle family horse that we are anxious to exchange for a good 'possum' dog. or a reasonable amount of fish bait. There is positively nothing wrong with the horse but his voi'acious appetite. We have had him with us now about two weeks, and he has eaten up three loads of cypress shingles, two 'otgates, licked the bottom out of a cast-iron su^ar kettle and com-, menced on the gable end of our residence, and the fact is we have just got to swap, sell or kill, or be witb out a house or hon.e."

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New York Sun. One the curiosities of Fifth* avenue is a free lunch saloon in a fashionable part of the thoroughfare. It is the only place of the, kind in a stretch of three or four miles, but it is much like such places, in other parts of town, and when hot roup is served there ft a crowd in" attendance from stables, workshops, small stores, and the like in neigh-. boring side streets. The queer little place seems to fill the needs of a somewhat dry neighborhood.

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In the museum at Mannheim there was a skeleton of a pike that measured nineteen feet, and had a rinjf round it with this inscription in Greek: "I am the fish which was cast into the lake by the hands of the Governor of the Universe, Frederick II, the 5th Octo* ber, 1230." The fish, having been caught in 1407, was 2G7 years old.

Miss Flora Kimball selected th« trees and superintended the planting' of them on seven miles of the streeti of National City, Col. She was requested to undertake the work by the Supervisor, who deemed her the most competent person for the placet

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