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    A Mere Interlude
    A Mere Interlude
    A Mere Interlude
    Ebook47 pages52 minutes

    A Mere Interlude

    By Thomas Hardy

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    About this ebook

    This love story is told from the point of view of the heroine, Baptista. She has loved and lost before but has now decided to marry the neighbour of her mother. On her way home her plans are torn asunder.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 8, 2020
    ISBN4064066417680
    A Mere Interlude
    Author

    Thomas Hardy

    Thomas Hardy nació en 1840 en Higher Bockhampton (Dorset), hijo de un maestro de obras. Fue aprendiz y discípulo de un arquitecto en Dorchester y posteriormente delineante en Londres, en pleno fervor del estilo neogótico. En 1872, animado por George Meredith tras haber conseguido publicar tres novelas, abandonó la arquitectura para dedicarse a escribir. Under the Greenwood Tree había iniciado ese mismo año el ciclo de «novelas de Essex», nombre del antiguo reino sajón que había comprendido las actuales regiones de Dorset y Wiltshire; a este ciclo pertenecen, entre otras, Lejos del mundanal ruido (1874; Alba Clásica Maior núm. XV), The Return of the Native (1878), El alcalde de Casterbridge (1886) y Tess of the D’Urbevilles (1891), además de Jude el oscuro (1895; Alba Clásica núm. XI), cuya escandalosa acogida le «curó para siempre», según sus propias palabras, «de todo interés por seguir escribiendo novelas». Su arte se concentró entonces en la poesía, en una serie de volúmenes publicados en su mayor parte después de 1898. Fue autor también de un gran drama épico, The Dynasts (1904-1908). Hardy murió en Dorchester en 1928.

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      Book preview

      A Mere Interlude - Thomas Hardy

      Thomas Hardy

      A Mere Interlude

      Published by Good Press, 2022

      [email protected]

      EAN 4064066417680

      Table of Contents

      Cover

      Titlepage

      Text

      I.

      Table of Contents

      IT was often said, and oftener surmised that Baptista Trewthen was a young woman with scarcely emotions or character. There was nothing in her to love, and nothing to hate—so ran the general opinion. That she showed few positive qualities was true. The colours and tones which changing events paint on the faces of active womankind were looked for in vain upon hers. But still waters run deep; and no crisis had come in the years of her early maidenhood to demonstrate what lay hidden within her, like metal in a mine.

      She was the daughter of a small farmer in St. Maria's, one of the Isles of Lyonesse beyond Off–Wessex, who had spent a large sum, as there understood, on her education, by sending her to the mainland for two years. At nineteen she was entered at the Training College for Teachers, and at twenty-one nominated to a school in the country, near Tor-upon-Sea, whither she proceeded after the Christmas examination and holidays.

      The months passed by from winter to spring and summer, and Baptista applied herself to her new duties as best she could, till an uneventful year had elapsed. Then an air of abstraction pervaded her bearing as she walked to and fro, twice a day, and she showed the traits of a person who had something on her mind. A widow, by name Mrs. Wace, in whose house Baptista Trewthen had been provided with a sitting-room and bedroom till the school-house should be built, noticed this change in her youthful tenant's manner, and at last ventured to press her with a few questions.

      It has nothing to do with the place, nor with you, said Miss Trewthen.

      Then it is the salary?

      No, nor the salary.

      Then it is something you have heard from home, my dear.

      Baptista was silent for a few moments. 'It is Mr. Heddegan, she murmured. 'Him they used to call David Heddegan before he got his money.

      And who is the Mr. Heddegan they used to call David?

      An old bachelor at Giant's Town, St. Maria's, with no relations whatever, who lives about a stone's throw from father's. When I was a child he used to take me on his knee and say he'd marry me some day. Now I am a woman the jest has turned earnest, and he is anxious to do it. And father and mother says I can't do better than have him.

      He's well off?

      Yes—he's the richest man we know—as a friend and neighbour.

      How much older did you say he was than yourself?

      I didn't say. Twenty years at least.

      And an unpleasant man in the bargain perhaps?

      No—he's not unpleasant.

      Well, child, all I can say is that I'd resist any such engagement if it's not palatable to 'ee. You are comfortable here, in my little house, I hope. All the parish like ye: and I've never been so cheerful, since my poor husband left me to wear his wings, as I've been with ye as my lodger.

      The schoolmistress assured her landlady that she could return the sentiment. But here comes my perplexity, she said. "I don't like keeping school. Ah, you are surprised—you didn't suspect it. That's because I've concealed my feeling. Well, I simply hate school. I don't care for children—they are unpleasant, troublesome little things, whom nothing would delight so much as to

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