Life's Little Ironies: A set of tales with some colloquial sketches entitled A Few Crusted Characters — John Shaqi
Life's Little Ironies: A set of tales with some colloquial sketches entitled A Few Crusted CharactersHardy, Thomas
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Life's Little Ironies: A set of tales with some colloquial sketches entitled A Few Crusted Characters
Hardy, Thomas
Short stories, English; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
How well she remembered it, that first act in her little tragi-comedy,
the death of her reverend husband’s first wife. It happened on a spring
evening, and she who now and for many years had filled that first
wife’s place was then parlour-maid in the parson’s house.
When everything had been done that could be done, and the death was
announced, she had gone out in the dusk to visit her parents, who were
living in the same village, to tell them the sad news. As she opened
the white swing-gate and looked towards the trees which rose westward,
shutting out the pale light of the evening sky, she discerned, without
much surprise, the figure of a man standing in the hedge, though she
roguishly exclaimed as a matter of form, ‘Oh, Sam, how you frightened
me!’
He was a young gardener of her acquaintance. She told him the
particulars of the late event, and they stood silent, these two young
people, in that elevated, calmly philosophic mind which is engendered
when a tragedy has happened close at hand, and has not happened to the
philosophers themselves. But it had its bearing upon their relations.
‘And will you stay on now at the Vicarage, just the same?’ asked he.
She had hardly thought of that. ‘Oh, yes—I suppose!’ she said.
‘Everything will be just as usual, I imagine?’
He walked beside her towards her mother’s. Presently his arm stole
round her waist. She gently removed it; but he placed it there again,
and she yielded the point. ‘You see, dear Sophy, you don’t know that
you’ll stay on; you may want a home; and I shall be ready to offer one
some day, though I may not be ready just yet.
‘Why, Sam, how can you be so fast! I’ve never even said I liked ’ee;
and it is all your own doing, coming after me!’
‘Still, it is nonsense to say I am not to have a try at you like the
rest.’ He stooped to kiss her a farewell, for they had reached her
mother’s door.
‘No, Sam; you sha’n’t!’ she cried, putting her hand over his mouth.
‘You ought to be more serious on such a night as this.’ And she bade
him adieu without allowing him to kiss her or to come indoors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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