Adam Bede HTML version

48.A nother Meeting in the Wood
THE next day, at evening, two men were walking from opposite points towards
the same scene, drawn thither by a common memory. The scene was the Grove
by Donnithorne Chase: you know who the men were.
The old squire's funeral had taken place that morning, the will had been read,
and now in the first breathing-space, Arthur Donnithorne had come out for a
lonely walk, that he might look fixedly at the new future before him and confirm
himself in a sad resolution. He thought he could do that best in the Grove.
Adam too had come from Stontion on Monday evening, and to-day he had not
left home, except to go to the family at the Hall Farm and tell them everything
that Mr. Irwine had left untold. He had agreed with the Poysers that he would
follow them to their new neighbourhood, wherever that might be, for he meant to
give up the management of the woods, and, as soon as it was practicable, he
would wind up his business with Jonathan Burge and settle with his mother and
Seth in a home within reach of the friends to whom he felt bound by a mutual
"Seth and me are sure to find work," he said. "A man that's got our trade at his
finger-ends is at home everywhere; and we must make a new start. My mother
won't stand in the way, for she's told me, since I came home, she'd made up her
mind to being buried in another parish, if I wished it, and if I'd be more
comfortable elsewhere. It's wonderful how quiet she's been ever since I came
back. It seems as if the very greatness o' the trouble had quieted and calmed
her. We shall all be better in a new country, though there's some I shall be loath
to leave behind. But I won't part from you and yours, if I can help it, Mr. Poyser.
Trouble's made us kin."
"Aye, lad," said Martin. "We'll go out o' hearing o' that man's name. But I doubt
we shall ne'er go far enough for folks not to find out as we've got them belonging
to us as are transported o'er the seas, and were like to be hanged. We shall have
that flyin' up in our faces, and our children's after us."
That was a long visit to the Hall Farm, and drew too strongly on Adam's energies
for him to think of seeing others, or re-entering on his old occupations till the
morrow. "But to-morrow," he said to himself, "I'll go to work again. I shall learn to
like it again some time, maybe; and it's right whether I like it or not."
This evening was the last he would allow to be absorbed by sorrow: suspense
was gone now, and he must bear the unalterable. He was resolved not to see
Arthur Donnithorne again, if it were possible to avoid him. He had no message to
deliver from Hetty now, for Hetty had seen Arthur. And Adam distrusted himself--