The Return of the Native | Page 6

would have been, Why
should such a promising being as this have hidden his prepossessing
exterior by adopting that singular occupation?
After replying to the old man's greeting he showed no inclination to
continue in talk, although they still walked side by side, for the elder
traveller seemed to desire company. There were no sounds but that of
the booming wind upon the stretch of tawny herbage around them, the
crackling wheels, the tread of the men, and the footsteps of the two
shaggy ponies which drew the van. They were small, hardy animals, of
a breed between Galloway and Exmoor, and were known as
"heath-croppers" here.

Now, as they thus pursued their way, the reddleman occasionally left
his companion's side, and, stepping behind the van, looked into its
interior through a small window. The look was always anxious. He
would then return to the old man, who made another remark about the
state of the country and so on, to which the reddleman again
abstractedly replied, and then again they would lapse into silence. The
silence conveyed to neither any sense of awkwardness; in these lonely
places wayfarers, after a first greeting, frequently plod on for miles
without speech; contiguity amounts to a tacit conversation where,
otherwise than in cities, such contiguity can be put an end to on the
merest inclination, and where not to put an end to it is intercourse in
itself.
Possibly these two might not have spoken again till their parting, had it
not been for the reddleman's visits to his van. When he returned from
his fifth time of looking in the old man said, "You have something
inside there besides your load?"
"Yes."
"Somebody who wants looking after?"
"Yes."
Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The reddleman
hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again.
"You have a child there, my man?"
"No, sir, I have a woman."
"The deuce you have! Why did she cry out?"
"Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she's uneasy,
and keeps dreaming."
"A young woman?"
"Yes, a young woman."

"That would have interested me forty years ago. Perhaps she's your
wife?"
"My wife!" said the other bitterly. "She's above mating with such as I.
But there's no reason why I should tell you about that."
"That's true. And there's no reason why you should not. What harm can
I do to you or to her?"
The reddleman looked in the old man's face. "Well, sir," he said at last,
"I knew her before today, though perhaps it would have been better if I
had not. But she's nothing to me, and I am nothing to her; and she
wouldn't have been in my van if any better carriage had been there to
take her."
"Where, may I ask?"
"At Anglebury."
"I know the town well. What was she doing there?"
"Oh, not much--to gossip about. However, she's tired to death now, and
not at all well, and that's what makes her so restless. She dropped off
into a nap about an hour ago, and 'twill do her good."
"A nice-looking girl, no doubt?"
"You would say so."
The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van
window, and, without withdrawing them, said, "I presume I might look
in upon her?"
"No," said the reddleman abruptly. "It is getting too dark for you to see
much of her; and, more than that, I have no right to allow you. Thank
God she sleeps so well, I hope she won't wake till she's home."
"Who is she? One of the neighbourhood?"

"'Tis no matter who, excuse me."
"It is not that girl of Blooms-End, who has been talked about more or
less lately? If so, I know her; and I can guess what has happened."
"'Tis no matter....Now, sir, I am sorry to say that we shall soon have to
part company. My ponies are tired, and I have further to go, and I am
going to rest them under this bank for an hour."
The elder traveller nodded his head indifferently, and the reddleman
turned his horses and van in upon the turf, saying, "Good night." The
old man replied, and proceeded on his way as before.
The reddleman watched his form as it diminished to a speck on the
road and became absorbed in the thickening films of night. He then
took some hay from a truss which was slung up under the van, and,
throwing a portion of it in front of the horses, made a pad of the rest,
which he laid on the ground beside his vehicle. Upon this he sat down,
leaning his back against the wheel. From the interior a low soft
breathing came to his ear. It appeared to