Then a morsel of snow flew across the river towards the fifth window.
It smacked against the wall at a point several yards from its mark.
The throw was the idea of a man conjoined with the execution of a woman.
No man who had ever seen bird, rabbit, or squirrel in his childhood, could possibly have thrown with such utter imbecility as was shown here.
Another attempt, and another; till by degrees the wall must have become pimpled with the adhering lumps of snow At last one fragment struck the fifth window.
The river would have been; seen by day to be of that deep smooth sort which races middle and sides with the same gliding precision, any irregularities of speed being immediately corrected by a small whirl- pool.
Nothing was heard in reply to the signal but the gurgle and cluck of one of these invisible wheels — together with a few small sounds which a sad man would have called moans, and a happy man laughter — caused by the flapping of the waters against trifling objects in other parts of the stream.
The window was struck again in the same manner.
Then a noise was heard, apparently produced by the opening of the window. This was followed by a voice from the same quarter.
"Who's there?"
The tones were masculine, and not those of surprise.
The high wall being that of a barrack, and marriage being looked upon with disfavour in the army, assigna- tions and communications had probably been made across the river before tonight.
"Is it Sergeant Troy?" said the blurred spot in the snow, tremulously.
This person was so much like a mere shade upon the earth, and the other speaker so much a part of the building, that one would have said the wall was holding a conversation with the snow.
"Yes." came suspiciously from the shadow."
What girl are you?"
"O, Frank — don't you know me?" said the spot.
"Your wife, Fanny Robin."
"Fanny!" said the wall, in utter astonishment.
"Yes." said the girl, with a half-suppressed gasp of emotion.
There was something in the woman's tone which is not that of the wife, and there was a mannerin the man which is rarely a husband's.
The dialogue went on:
"How did you come here?"
"I asked which was your window.
Forgive me!"
"I did not expect you to-night.
Indeed, I did not think you would come at all.
It was a wonder you found me here.
I am orderly tomorrow."
"You said I was to come."
"Well — I said that you might."
"Yes, I mean that I might.
You are glad to see me, Frank?"
"O yes — of course."
"Can you — come to me!"
My dear Fan, no!
The bugle has sounded, the barrack gates are closed, and I have no leave.
We are all of us as good as in the county gaol till to-morrow morning."
"Then I shan't see you till then!"
The words- were in a faltering tone of disappointment.
"How did you get here from Weatherbury?"
"I walked — some part of the way — the rest by the carriers."
"I am surprised."
"Yes — so am I.
And Frank, when will it be?"
"What?"
"That you promised."
"I don't quite recollect."
"O You do!
Don't speak like that.