The visit to Geoffrey passed off as delightfully as a visit might have been expected to pass off when it was the first day of smooth experience in a hitherto obstructed love-course. And then came a series of several happy days, of the same undisturbed serenity.
**** could court her when he chose; stay away when he chose,--which was never; walk with her by winding streams and waterfalls and autumn scenery till dews arid twilight sent them home. And thus they drew near the day of the Harvest Thanksgiving, which was also the time chosen for opening the organ in Mellstock Church.
It chanced that **** on that very day was called away from Mellstock. A young acquaintance had died of consumption at Charmley, a neighbouring village, on the previous Monday, and ****, in fulfilment of a long-standing promise, was to assist in carrying him to the grave. When on Tuesday, **** went towards the school to acquaint Fancy with the fact, it is difficult to say whether his own disappointment at being denied the sight of her triumphant debut as organist, was greater than his vexation that his pet should on this great occasion be deprived of the pleasure of his presence.
However, the intelligence was communicated. She bore it as she best could, not without many expressions of regret, and convictions that her performance would be nothing to her now.
Just before eleven o'clock on Sunday he set out upon his sad errand.
The funeral was to be immediately after the morning service, and as there were four good miles to walk, driving being inconvenient, it became necessary to start comparatively early. Half an hour later would certainly have answered his purpose quite as well, yet at the last moment nothing would content his ardent mind but that he must go a mile out of his way in the direction of the school, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his Love as she started for church.
Striking, therefore, into the lane towards the school, instead of across the ewelease direct to Charmley, he arrived opposite her door as his goddess emerged.
If ever a woman looked a divinity, Fancy Day appeared one that morning as she floated down those school steps, in the form of a nebulous collection of colours inclining to blue. With an audacity unparalleled in the whole history of village-school-mistresses at this date--partly owing, no doubt, to papa's respectable accumulation of cash, which rendered her profession not altogether one of necessity--she had actually donned a hat and feather, and lowered her hitherto plainly looped-up hair, which now fell about her shoulders in a profusion of curls. Poor **** was astonished: he had never seen her look so distractingly beautiful before, save on Christmas-eve, when her hair was in the same luxuriant condition of *******. But his first burst of delighted surprise was followed by less comfortable feelings, as soon as his brain recovered its power to think.
Fancy had blushed;--was it with confusion? She had also involuntarily pressed back her curls. She had not expected him.
"Fancy, you didn't know me for a moment in my funeral clothes, did you?"
"Good-morning, ****--no, really, I didn't know you for an instant in such a sad suit."
He looked again at the gay tresses and hat. "You've never dressed so charming before, dearest."
"I like to hear you praise me in that way, ****," she said, smiling archly. "It is meat and drink to a woman. Do I look nice really?"
"Fie! you know it. Did you remember,--I mean didn't you remember about my going away to-day?"
"Well, yes, I did, ****; but, you know, I wanted to look well;--forgive me."
