His figure had been seen by some one against the bright wall as he came away from Mrs.Palmley's back window,and the box and money were found in his possession,while the evidence of the broken bureau-lock and tinkered window-pane was more than enough for circumstantial detail.Whether his protestation that he went only for his letters,which he believed to be wrongfully kept from him,would have availed him anything if supported by other evidence I do not know;but the one person who could have borne it out was Harriet,and she acted entirely under the sway of her aunt.That aunt was deadly towards Jack Winter.Mrs.Palmley's time had come.Here was her revenge upon the woman who had first won away her lover,and next ruined and deprived her of her heart's treasure--her little son.When the assize week drew on,and Jack had to stand his trial,Harriet did not appear in the case at all,which was allowed to take its course,Mrs.
Palmley testifying to the general facts of the burglary.Whether Harriet would have come forward if Jack had appealed to her is not known;possibly she would have done it for pity's sake;but Jack was too proud to ask a single favour of a girl who had jilted him;and he let her alone.The trial was a short one,and the death sentence was passed.
'The day o'young Jack's execution was a cold dusty Saturday in March.He was so boyish and slim that they were obliged in mercy to hang him in the heaviest fetters kept in the jail,lest his heft should not break his neck,and they weighed so upon him that he could hardly drag himself up to the drop.At that time the gover'ment was not strict about burying the body of an executed person within the precincts of the prison,and at the earnest prayer of his poor mother his body was allowed to be brought home.All the parish waited at their cottage doors in the evening for its arrival:I remember how,as a very little girl,I stood by my mother's side.About eight o'clock,as we hearkened on our door-stones in the cold bright starlight,we could hear the faint crackle of a waggon from the direction of the turnpike-road.The noise was lost as the waggon dropped into a hollow,then it was plain again as it lumbered down the next long incline,and presently it entered Longpuddle.The coffin was laid in the belfry for the night,and the next day,Sunday,between the services,we buried him.A funeral sermon was preached the same afternoon,the text chosen being,"He was the only son of his mother,and she was a widow."...Yes,they were cruel times!
'As for Harriet,she and her lover were married in due time;but by all account her life was no jocund one.She and her good-man found that they could not live comfortably at Longpuddle,by reason of her connection with Jack's misfortunes,and they settled in a distant town,and were no more heard of by us;Mrs.Palmley,too,found it advisable to join 'em shortly after.The dark-eyed,gaunt old Mrs.
Winter,remembered by the emigrant gentleman here,was,as you will have foreseen,the Mrs.Winter of this story;and I can well call to mind how lonely she was,how afraid the children were of her,and how she kept herself as a stranger among us,though she lived so long.'
'Longpuddle has had her sad experiences as well as her sunny ones,'said Mr.Lackland.
'Yes,yes.But I am thankful to say not many like that,though good and bad have lived among us.'
'There was Georgy Crookhill--he was one of the shady sort,as I have reason to know,'observed the registrar,with the manner of a man who would like to have his say also.
'I used to hear what he was as a boy at school.'
'Well,as he began so he went on.It never got so far as a hanging matter with him,to be sure;but he had some narrow escapes of penal servitude;and once it was a case of the biter bit.'
INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF MR.GEORGE CROOKHILL
'One day,'the registrar continued,'Georgy was ambling out of Melchester on a miserable screw,the fair being just over,when he saw in front of him a fine-looking young farmer riding out of the town in the same direction.He was mounted on a good strong handsome animal,worth fifty guineas if worth a crown.When they were going up Bissett Hill,Georgy made it his business to overtake the young farmer.They passed the time o'day to one another;Georgy spoke of the state of the roads,and jogged alongside the well-mounted stranger in very friendly conversation.The farmer had not been inclined to say much to Georgy at first,but by degrees he grew quite affable too--as friendly as Georgy was toward him.He told Crookhill that he had been doing business at Melchester fair,and was going on as far as Shottsford-Forum that night,so as to reach Casterbridge market the next day.When they came to Woodyates Inn they stopped to bait their horses,and agreed to drink together;with this they got more friendly than ever,and on they went again.Before they had nearly reached Shottsford it came on to rain,and as they were now passing through the village of Trantridge,and it was quite dark,Georgy persuaded the young farmer to go no further that night;the rain would most likely give them a chill.For his part he had heard that the little inn here was comfortable,and he meant to stay.At last the young farmer agreed to put up there also;and they dismounted,and entered,and had a good supper together,and talked over their affairs like men who had known and proved each other a long time.When it was the hour for retiring they went upstairs to a double-bedded room which Georgy Crookhill had asked the landlord to let them share,so sociable were they.
'Before they fell asleep they talked across the room about one thing and another,running from this to that till the conversation turned upon disguises,and changing clothes for particular ends.The farmer told Georgy that he had often heard tales of people doing it;but Crookhill professed to be very ignorant of all such tricks;and soon the young farmer sank into slumber.
