The Trumpet-Major

John on his part was beginning to find these temptations almost more than he could bear. But being quartered so near to his father’s house it was unnatural not to visit him, especially when at any moment the regiment might be ordered abroad, and a separation of years ensue; and as long as he went there he could not help seeing her.

The year changed from green to gold, and from gold to grey, but little change came over the house of Loveday. During the last twelve months Bob had been occasionally heard of as upholding his country’s honour in Denmark, the West Indies, Gibraltar, Malta, and other places about the globe, till the family received a short letter stating that he had arrived again at Portsmouth. At Portsmouth Bob seemed disposed to remain, for though some time elapsed without further intelligence, the gallant seaman never appeared at Overcombe. Then on a sudden John learnt that Bob’s long-talked-of promotion for signal services rendered was to be an accomplished fact. The trumpet-major at once walked off to Overcombe, and reached the village in the early afternoon. Not one of the family was in the house at the moment, and John strolled onwards over the hill towards Casterbridge, without much thought of direction till, lifting his eyes, he beheld Anne Garland wandering about with a little basket upon her arm.

At first John blushed with delight at the sweet vision; but, recalled by his conscience, the blush of delight was at once mangled and slain. He looked for a means of retreat. But the field was open, and a soldier was a 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. ‘I thought you was at home.’

Anne blushed and said nothing, and they rambled on together. In the middle 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 and politely asked her if she were not a little tired with walking so far. No particular 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 the ground.

‘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 where I 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’s character, and was surprised to find how the brightness of that character increased in her eyes with each examination. A kindly and gentle sensation was again aroused in her. Here was a neglected heroic man, who, loving her to distraction, deliberately doomed himself to pensive shade 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 wife just there, in past times,’ she said, with calm deliberateness, throwing a little stone on a spot about a yard westward.

John annihilated another tender burst and replied, ‘Yes, this field used to be a village. My grandfather could call to mind when there were houses here. But the squire pulled ’em down, because poor folk were an eyesore to him.’

‘Do you know, John, what you once asked me to do?’ she continued, not accepting 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 his face. ‘Ah – I do remember,’ he said at last, in a dry, small, repressed voice.

‘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. ‘That summer,’ she went on, ‘you asked me ten times if you asked me once. I am older now; much more of a woman, you know; and my opinion is changed about some people; especially about one.’

‘O Anne, Anne!’ he burst out as, racked between honour and desire, he snatched up her hand. The next moment it fell heavily to her lap. He had absolutely relinquished it half-way to his lips.

‘I have been thinking lately,’ he said, with preternaturally sudden calmness, ‘that men of the military profession ought not to m – ought to be like St. Paul, I mean.’

‘Fie, John; pretending religion!’ she said sternly. ‘It isn’t that at all. It’s Bob!’

‘Yes!’ cried the miserable trumpet-major. ‘I have had a letter from him to-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 only cruises on our own coast, so that he’ll be at home on leave half his time – 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 the gable-wall. Anne jumped up from her seat, flung away the letter without looking at it, and went hastily on. John did not attempt to overtake her. Picking up the letter, he followed in her wake at a distance of a hundred yards.

But, though Anne had withdrawn from his presence thus precipitately, she never thought more highly of him in her life than she did five minutes afterwards, when the excitement of the moment had passed. She saw it all quite clearly; and his self-sacrifice impressed her so much that the effect was just the reverse of what he had been aiming to produce. The more he pleaded for Bob, the more her perverse generosity pleaded for John. To-day the crisis had come – with what results she had not foreseen.

As soon as the trumpet-major reached the nearest pen-and-ink he flung himself 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 the turnpike road towards Overcombe, one of them with a bag in his hand.

‘Now,’ said the taller of the two, the squareness of whose shoulders signified that he wore epaulettes, ‘now you must do the best you can for yourself, Bob. I have done all I can; but th’hast thy work cut out, I can tell thee.’

‘I wouldn’t have run such a risk for the world,’ said the other, in a tone of ingenuous contrition. ‘But thou’st see, Jack, I didn’t think there was any danger, knowing you was taking care of her, and keeping my place warm for me. I didn’t hurry myself, that’s true; but, thinks I, if I get this promotion I am promised I shall naturally have leave, and then I’ll go and see ’em all. Gad, I shouldn’t have been here now but for your 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 other girl. 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 wind from that quarter?’

‘She knows all about it,’ said John seriously.

‘Knows? By George, then, I’m ruined!’ said Bob, standing stock-still in the 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 cried passionately, thumping his three upper ribs with his fist.

‘I’ve thought as much myself,’ observed John, with a dryness which was almost 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. I solemnly swear by that eternal milestone staring at me there that I’ll never look at another woman with the thought of marrying her whilst that darling is free – no, not if she be a mermaiden of light! It’s a lucky thing that I’m slipped in on the quarterdeck! it may help me with her – hey?’

‘It may with her mother; I don’t think it will make much difference with Anne. Still, it is a good thing; and I hope that some day you’ll command a big ship.’

Bob shook his head. ‘Officers are scarce; but I’m afraid my luck won’t carry 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 thing as 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 was welcomed with acclamation by his father and David, with mild approval by Mrs. Loveday, and by Anne not at all – that discreet maiden having carefully retired to her own room some time earlier in the evening. Bob did not dare to ask for her in any positive manner; he just inquired about her health, and that was all.