Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
ALL SAINTS' AND ALL SOULS'
ON a week-day morning a small congregation, con-sisting mainly of women and girls, rose from its kneesin the mouldy nave of a church called All Saints', inthe distant barrack-town before mentioned, at the endof a service without a sermon. They were about todisperse, when a smart footstep, entering the porch andcoming up the central passage, arrested their attention.The step echoed with a ring unusual in a church; itwas the clink of spurs. Everybody looked. A youngcavalry soldier in a red uniform, with the three chevronsof a sergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle, withan embarrassment which was only the more markedby the intense vigour of his step, and by the deter-mination upon his face to show none. A slight flushhad mounted his cheek by the time he had run thegauntlet between these women; but, passing on throughthe chancel arch, he never paused till he came closeto the altar railing. Here for a moment he stoodalone.The officiating curate, who had not yet doffed hissurplice, perceived the new-comer, and followed himto the communion-space. He whispered to the soldier,and then beckoned to the clerk, who in his turnwhispered to an elderly woman, apparently his wife, andthey also went up the chancel steps.”'Tis a wedding!” murmured some of the women,brightening. ”Let's wait!”The majority again sat down.There was a creaking of machinery behind, andsome of the young ones turned their heads. From theinterior face of the west wall of the tower projected alittle canopy with a quarter-jack and small bell beneathit, the automaton being driven by the same clockmachinery that struck the large bell in the tower. Be-tween the tower and the church was a close screen, thedoor of which was kept shut during services, hidingthis grotesque clockwork from sight. At present, how-ever, the door was open, and the egress of the jack, theblows on the bell, and the mannikin's retreat into.thenook again, were visible to many, and audible through-out the church.The jack had struck half-past eleven.”Where's the woman?” whispered some of thespectators.The young sergeant stood still with the abnormalrigidity of the old pillars around. He faced the south-east, and was as silent as he was still.The silence grew to be a noticeable thing as theminutes went on, and nobody else appeared, and not asoul moved. The rattle of the quarter-jack again fromits niche, its blows for three-quarters, its fussy retreat,were almost painfully abrupt, and caused many of thecongregation to start palpably.”I wonder where the woman is!” a voice whisperedagain.There began now that slight shifting of feet, thatartificial coughing among several, which betrays anervous suspense. At length there was a titter. Butthe soldier never moved. There he stood, his face tothe south-east, upright as a column, his cap in his hand.The clock ticked on. The women threw off theirnervousness, and titters and giggling became morefrequent. Then came a dead silence. Every one waswaiting for the end. Some persons may have noticedhow extraordinarily the striking of quarters. seems toquicken the flight of time. It was hardly credible thatthe jack had not got wrong with the minutes when therattle began again, the puppet emerged, and the fourquarters were struck fitfully as before: One could al-most be positive that there was a malicious leer uponthe hideous creature's face, and a mischievous delightin its twitchings. Then, followed the dull and remoteresonance of the twelve heavy strokes in the towerabove. The women were impressed, and there was nogiggle this time.The clergyman glided into the vestry, and the clerkvanished. The sergeant had not yet turned; everywoman in the church was waiting to see his face, andhe appeared to know it. At last he did turn, andstalked resolutely down the nave, braving them all,with a compressed lip. Two bowed and toothless oldalmsmen then looked at each other and chuckled,innocently enough; but the sound had a strange weirdeffect in that place.Opposite to the church was a paved square, aroundwhich several overhanging wood buildings of old timecast a picturesque shade. The young man on leavingthe door went to cross the square, when, in the middle,he met a little woman. The expression of her face,which had been one of intense anxiety, sank at thesight of his nearly to terror.”Well?” he said, in a suppressed passion, fixedlylooking at her.”O, Frank -- I made a mistake! -- I thought thatchurch with the spire was All Saints', and I was at thedoor at half-past eleven to a minute as you said.waited till a quarter to twelve, and found then that Iwas in All Souls'. But I wasn't much frightened, forI thought it could be to-morrow as well.””You fool, for so fooling me! But say no more.””Shall it be to-morrow, Frank?” she asked blankly.”To-morrow!” and he gave vent to a hoarse laugh.”I don't go through that experience again for sometime, I warrant you!””But after all.” she expostulated in a trembling voice,”the mistake was not such a terrible thing! Now, dearFrank, when shall it be?””Ah, when? God knows!” he said, with a lightirony, and turning from her walked rapidly away.
CHAPTER XVII
ON a week-day morning a small congregation, con-sisting mainly of women and girls, rose from its kneesin the mouldy nave of a church called All Saints', inthe distant barrack-town before mentioned, at the endof a service without a sermon. They were about todisperse, when a smart footstep, entering the porch andcoming up the central passage, arrested their attention.The step echoed with a ring unusual in a church; itwas the clink of spurs. Everybody looked. A youngcavalry soldier in a red uniform, with the three chevronsof a sergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle, withan embarrassment which was only the more markedby the intense vigour of his step, and by the deter-mination upon his face to show none. A slight flushhad mounted his cheek by the time he had run thegauntlet between these women; but, passing on throughthe chancel arch, he never paused till he came closeto the altar railing. Here for a moment he stoodalone.The officiating curate, who had not yet doffed hissurplice, perceived the new-comer, and followed himto the communion-space. He whispered to the soldier,and then beckoned to the clerk, who in his turnwhispered to an elderly woman, apparently his wife, andthey also went up the chancel steps.”'Tis a wedding!” murmured some of the women,brightening. ”Let's wait!”The majority again sat down.There was a creaking of machinery behind, andsome of the young ones turned their heads. From theinterior face of the west wall of the tower projected alittle canopy with a quarter-jack and small bell beneathit, the automaton being driven by the same clockmachinery that struck the large bell in the tower. Be-tween the tower and the church was a close screen, thedoor of which was kept shut during services, hidingthis grotesque clockwork from sight. At present, how-ever, the door was open, and the egress of the jack, theblows on the bell, and the mannikin's retreat into.thenook again, were visible to many, and audible through-out the church.The jack had struck half-past eleven.”Where's the woman?” whispered some of thespectators.The young sergeant stood still with the abnormalrigidity of the old pillars around. He faced the south-east, and was as silent as he was still.The silence grew to be a noticeable thing as theminutes went on, and nobody else appeared, and not asoul moved. The rattle of the quarter-jack again fromits niche, its blows for three-quarters, its fussy retreat,were almost painfully abrupt, and caused many of thecongregation to start palpably.”I wonder where the woman is!” a voice whisperedagain.There began now that slight shifting of feet, thatartificial coughing among several, which betrays anervous suspense. At length there was a titter. Butthe soldier never moved. There he stood, his face tothe south-east, upright as a column, his cap in his hand.The clock ticked on. The women threw off theirnervousness, and titters and giggling became morefrequent. Then came a dead silence. Every one waswaiting for the end. Some persons may have noticedhow extraordinarily the striking of quarters. seems toquicken the flight of time. It was hardly credible thatthe jack had not got wrong with the minutes when therattle began again, the puppet emerged, and the fourquarters were struck fitfully as before: One could al-most be positive that there was a malicious leer uponthe hideous creature's face, and a mischievous delightin its twitchings. Then, followed the dull and remoteresonance of the twelve heavy strokes in the towerabove. The women were impressed, and there was nogiggle this time.The clergyman glided into the vestry, and the clerkvanished. The sergeant had not yet turned; everywoman in the church was waiting to see his face, andhe appeared to know it. At last he did turn, andstalked resolutely down the nave, braving them all,with a compressed lip. Two bowed and toothless oldalmsmen then looked at each other and chuckled,innocently enough; but the sound had a strange weirdeffect in that place.Opposite to the church was a paved square, aroundwhich several overhanging wood buildings of old timecast a picturesque shade. The young man on leavingthe door went to cross the square, when, in the middle,he met a little woman. The expression of her face,which had been one of intense anxiety, sank at thesight of his nearly to terror.”Well?” he said, in a suppressed passion, fixedlylooking at her.”O, Frank -- I made a mistake! -- I thought thatchurch with the spire was All Saints', and I was at thedoor at half-past eleven to a minute as you said.waited till a quarter to twelve, and found then that Iwas in All Souls'. But I wasn't much frightened, forI thought it could be to-morrow as well.””You fool, for so fooling me! But say no more.””Shall it be to-morrow, Frank?” she asked blankly.”To-morrow!” and he gave vent to a hoarse laugh.”I don't go through that experience again for sometime, I warrant you!””But after all.” she expostulated in a trembling voice,”the mistake was not such a terrible thing! Now, dearFrank, when shall it be?””Ah, when? God knows!” he said, with a lightirony, and turning from her walked rapidly away.
CHAPTER XVII