From 95bdf0867d584e6d40b9ad61a3e3a76c99ed25be Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Ano-sys Date: Wed, 29 Jan 2025 16:02:23 +0100 Subject: [PATCH] Fixed double words (for first word the pointer was not moved) - Fixed last char overwritten (\0 was inserted one to early --- ...on => index-2025-01-29T13-53-08-0052.json} | 0 praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_deps | Bin 17472 -> 13536 bytes praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_log | 94 +- .../CMakeFiles/clion-Debug-log.txt | 14 +- .../distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o | Bin 17944 -> 18320 bytes .../CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o | Bin 17280 -> 17848 bytes .../Testing/Temporary/LastTest.log | 4 +- praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt | 33657 +--------------- praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt.bak | 33654 +++++++++++++++ praxis3/cmake-build-debug/distributor | Bin 30424 -> 30488 bytes praxis3/cmake-build-debug/worker | Bin 30152 -> 30336 bytes praxis3/zmq_distributor.c | 16 +- praxis3/zmq_worker.c | 43 +- 13 files changed, 33733 insertions(+), 33749 deletions(-) rename praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.cmake/api/v1/reply/{index-2025-01-28T23-42-33-0016.json => index-2025-01-29T13-53-08-0052.json} (100%) create mode 100644 praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt.bak diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.cmake/api/v1/reply/index-2025-01-28T23-42-33-0016.json b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.cmake/api/v1/reply/index-2025-01-29T13-53-08-0052.json similarity index 100% rename from praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.cmake/api/v1/reply/index-2025-01-28T23-42-33-0016.json rename to praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.cmake/api/v1/reply/index-2025-01-29T13-53-08-0052.json diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_deps b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_deps index 0e90675be6aa5cb91d64838230159695a6c39167..117da0c85b0476f3426d472c2e9b768e2098e826 100644 GIT binary patch delta 639 zcmX@m!T2C^LyzEO77+`^Ns~JT?O7)N|Nnn;h0_5>)?5Y#hP=tW!se4itmKm!`hgOE z7#JGzfx<4OY-z!a@)89=HWLu%PQGaHe6op@j%*)PRUuGx<>9TTF;%5VYcTdswv;dz z?E$LY!^qH31XP=r;dG^*NnWCO^Frz6jFMoxfx$ip& zKy1d4G`z#ME*F>N%yoC}c0naE9F^^0WxvG$=3fkH`M12gSqx#)81}BZt}J6=h{I8{ k*H<&x;F7ey@M@nME=lnphZkPMC7Ja)rSCRWk^>e$0M2r)b^rhX delta 981 zcmaEmd7y)FLysV%&E$n*YLnj!iV9Eq|Ns91Mur9kAlShgemv!y+-7~{t&Ec|2%E4@ z1WHbjFumOkM`=oi|Z4fyOkGB3?`0xYVsTk57+B;-r z8F6}4a`xL#u5f8Zm`7o0z@?NeEf^?`nL_Ao*Jn+-MAky`8S; zw-C4V#znpN*5a0CDNg;r3%4|PaO}>9xTQm#4JW?GExmugbbve)&M*tRIsc3cZt1iP Urz`bvX%1MBZsrg=zzF970IW$FDF6Tf diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_log b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_log index 97e4384..76ba147 100644 --- a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_log +++ b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/.ninja_log @@ -1,57 +1,41 @@ # ninja log v6 -1 39 1738105708158215431 distributor 52b9e5589e6de4bc -0 30 1738105442283119334 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_worker.c.o d5e5fcc0aafed156 -0 16 1738107753006229164 build.ninja e4e5b46deb631549 -0 40 1738105101300577756 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -1 29 1738105101301577749 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/key_value_pair.c.o 3e4f10264f7b6f9 -0 24 1738107753006229164 build.ninja e4e5b46deb631549 -0 36 1738107753016229087 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -1 22 1738107830333638561 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/key_value_pair.c.o c815e7263f0d0a22 -1 31 1738107830333638561 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 69 1738107830363638332 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 32 1738107952547710219 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -33 74 1738107952580709969 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 31 1738108015014237740 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 69 1738108015045237506 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 31 1738108032559105252 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 66 1738108032589105026 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 31 1738108046835997508 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -31 68 1738108046866997274 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -1 30 1738108289587173099 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -30 66 1738108289616172882 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -1 40 1738108439213054072 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -40 78 1738108439252053781 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -1 32 1738108534691341593 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -32 72 1738108534723341355 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -0 30 1738108557080174671 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 -30 71 1738108557110174447 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -0 37 1738109015729940868 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -37 81 1738109015766940606 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 30 1738109205723589399 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -30 66 1738109205753589185 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 32 1738109381098330224 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -32 71 1738109381129330002 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 22 1738109438872913564 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/key_value_pair.c.o 3e4f10264f7b6f9 -22 60 1738109438894913406 distributor 94c57781821b8eee -0 22 1738109440578901248 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/key_value_pair.c.o c815e7263f0d0a22 -22 60 1738109440600901090 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 31 1738109574428933106 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 66 1738109574459932881 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 32 1738109773469487886 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -32 68 1738109773500487661 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 32 1738109827431095194 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -32 68 1738109827463094961 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 31 1738109883817684518 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 69 1738109883848684292 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 31 1738110050147471462 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 69 1738110050177471243 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 35 1738110109599037390 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -35 71 1738110109633037141 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 32 1738110314667538601 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -32 69 1738110314699538367 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 31 1738110475673360618 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -31 68 1738110475703360398 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -0 32 1738110729201525050 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b -32 69 1738110729233524838 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 -1 32 1738110893874419033 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 32 69 1738110893905418822 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 30 1738105442283119334 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_worker.c.o d5e5fcc0aafed156 +0 24 1738158788025158273 build.ninja e4e5b46deb631549 +1 32 1738110893874419033 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +0 22 1738109440578901248 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/key_value_pair.c.o c815e7263f0d0a22 +32 69 1738110729233524838 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +0 22 1738109438872913564 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/key_value_pair.c.o 3e4f10264f7b6f9 +0 32 1738110729201525050 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +0 47 1738159115534281752 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +47 88 1738159115581282030 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +0 31 1738160036073886257 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +31 69 1738160036104886135 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +0 33 1738160039499872677 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +33 74 1738160039532872546 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 36 1738160280110822932 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +36 72 1738160280146822763 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +1 32 1738160366603408106 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +32 67 1738160366634407955 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +1 36 1738160545081507330 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +36 78 1738160545116507148 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +1 30 1738161121542863524 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +30 69 1738161121571863155 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 29 1738161228788554820 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +29 65 1738161228817554481 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 29 1738161354145148561 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +29 65 1738161354174148249 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 31 1738161531871329808 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +31 69 1738161531902329505 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +0 33 1738161877544183345 CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o 8c7caa5d8888f06b +33 70 1738161877577183062 worker 8cb044e4b1d208e8 +0 30 1738162098218341663 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +30 66 1738162098248341418 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +1 30 1738162114935205702 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +30 65 1738162114964205467 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 29 1738162161079832549 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +29 67 1738162161108832315 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +1 33 1738162779063038217 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +33 72 1738162779095037975 distributor 94c57781821b8eee +0 30 1738162800215878405 CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o 8386b22addd5fe65 +30 69 1738162800245878178 distributor 94c57781821b8eee diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/clion-Debug-log.txt b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/clion-Debug-log.txt index 613accf..85b2bdf 100644 --- a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/clion-Debug-log.txt +++ b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/clion-Debug-log.txt @@ -1,16 +1,4 @@ /home/timo/.local/share/JetBrains/Toolbox/apps/clion/bin/cmake/linux/x64/bin/cmake -DCMAKE_BUILD_TYPE=Debug -DCMAKE_MAKE_PROGRAM=/home/timo/.local/share/JetBrains/Toolbox/apps/clion/bin/ninja/linux/x64/ninja -G Ninja -S /home/timo/gitl/RN-Praxis3/praxis3 -B /home/timo/gitl/RN-Praxis3/praxis3/cmake-build-debug --- The C compiler identification is GNU 14.2.1 --- The CXX compiler identification is GNU 14.2.1 --- Detecting C compiler ABI info --- Detecting C compiler ABI info - done --- Check for working C compiler: /bin/cc - skipped --- Detecting C compile features --- Detecting C compile features - done --- Detecting CXX compiler ABI info --- Detecting CXX compiler ABI info - done --- Check for working CXX compiler: /bin/c++ - skipped --- Detecting CXX compile features --- Detecting CXX compile features - done --- Configuring done (0.3s) +-- Configuring done (0.0s) -- Generating done (0.0s) -- Build files have been written to: /home/timo/gitl/RN-Praxis3/praxis3/cmake-build-debug diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/distributor.dir/zmq_distributor.c.o index 07bc2a2e0a2f733ce7f5f920350d0da6d6cb624d..333437acbce50462dd6ba2fb2ff05e091a68e59f 100644 GIT binary patch delta 5498 zcmZ`+2{={hAHL^WvNd+cwRP>;5<+$tm#av(6%~VQ*|Mk7HAI%t;FGjjCMw!+H6jhB z1*zy}B1KAz8Vo9_l>a%`xijD6|IGJ1=R5bj?{9g3-|w97oLl@elJ^Uex18KV%hz>7 zH1iYPkpBFeJ2Vv;xdJ3?FtXaO;^$HBMGk#7i$0b^A7d0Va@Qlk7C{j**n(U@UIRYz zHY6MPl8dQR{Fq;E`sC;Nc}CXl{|^K{lT#57_I^GggzC(P+2*7V|EFyRf4WdPdBF&L z5maO^6OiE(!2nVY{chSQnQbFvk1Wff_gc}PCMz;>=);)g1+`i9Nk&@oBuP9SoD@C? z!t9pgs1^(N!{uf8W$QFObv>P!RXlCQIWBMBzB8vAi~-fvYjqp zViB9r{rGEVg!zezakDJ5>%-|Bt?MB`D|cJ1mf41Cvxp11W*S8y)5DJCwf z9N911Wb>w@lIw3C@-hmysK433l88zZzt-HbQtx1hSHvObb#B?SR2gb&ktt9Xo;6p< z@*U9<-OIduy2vCcTlrz?a?Ki76JaSGCS62t=K92vq67ht6Q^ji0{sfdv|7Xl5SF!|GU=n( zZ^%pe@FgJuHGIP=f>wy7{L>{pon_M0?lRG`(zeKyG_k#$wZ|#`J=?zK1|2r(Q2#4h za37*Yv6fft>k<{4+59l&ti1KfcMrQl1(PT0f_(fZ8Sh-~$;ew5t*$y6D^}7mcjg#H z@K7BqEU2iB%4zHv-hI&7u6>xr7>u}g*F@eSGDqxi({EBQM7nie?hG}y7z=mX5|B_D zM!(WosuY;s8Tvf+wbz?BDPMEyb(V(o>7L%9E_2V^HT6n`yp{Nn(vPt{(Q?g`K~aoj zQ->PrC8Aolkdkj(7Fu{cPncX89?O~V_`Q6iZ$jqD3ohD2K|LwTw#;?X2`^Y;G5ya+ zUafNZVZDHuH;E(W9d;{}eEda4pIhn= z4L9C?%>C^ea!q~R(W6#-TFsQh&DTx%4ql)~7X%M9b$>S7cf4d{#&|s6TfV@Opk$A~ zem>j0*Ey&6>+$-7HYaxOk^eRS?^Wj>v->pnqkH)mXC zNmS&`YPe<%s_EE7>boD_%sd*kWJA5N&qWD~i={hUot9V2>@(W>;zPqjA5R7UF{yC# z;U}Gl{AJFyM75`-Tl@=Oj+%Z|EUM8t=sw5@}!F-T%QZs^^*(&zgx-2z_jqn}!} z>$+mB!)sZc$=)Mh)G3ljOcY=74-8WEPda_^Zo0yF@JlRT#)p!RSGVOmhTn2P&uov) zZgi)zyk0%Ib+~HlVD@pqww_4b!Q$jP$vJl1+3%w7^D3R)v^0MGIU8r~n%TEH8DXI= zvTxQUdHj-d-l+P%?#zg4OUBwL*+VIpMr>-bPucs*e~{=YpxM~_?u`?;_@XWTfXau1 z9P{dcE2`y+rg2-#zent~ba>ZJ2bWv!T^P!oHEm;EiqFdCFh4ky_wHC%exWzN#`m3P zZ(-AUgjJkvBAxkgv(3FqZlb9##49q3sFBKBo zUdkUqbbt{J1-tD9L94V7YZTw$v4Jd{NPAAk7qmo5(ZxLQ{4&gZVgv`R|Rn25+3G90$6a`zb?M#{>rj3!SA$E_M0dQ4;N=G+^*yPy56 zfqjj$rrasFaKqt|xq*)tW5Z>%Q|rHUpFL&&th0*0(TFv0ywKFD!FfL7s=#~0wA0(K zS28v$%{c7L+UL4Ltyq2f2ESyZMAZF3fltS;8Z>VlT7Df^s;#^q$~0Z~Y0NVDY5lEUtuc6 z+`43|uMp_`nzedBBba|WeJ=IFV0>$u_?aq2^IIu%Vp_8?7yn9^e&6>IIM~$P@_%YD zZ6OyiYcjJu^w@C1>G7HOrmswY{Upj-truiz7f`Rx_jE=sJ2)@HD)#=36}PS)aGD|i zt;A}6wLkh+*f#H}M@_<&JM&7!rp_vETK0Qq$o0b=m!g}LI#|NTgg*72YjFEi>3V;6 z*Qo#9@0FnwyJvrh%3?{Tza|G4R_2Fzu2<1I|7YG8)6FL5krMaOT`Dcg>1S@7+9*<0 zdEdKvjg}XCLU6-A(K(MF*M00=X|}pXeAw!hllk9v1xGGBS3Y{JIxl!cBBPFIF|XAW zLF|@jmfgc|=!ZkJA0#r!j!Omkwj*Logh)ylWKDR4VwV5%JJ|sWHVEPe$`x6NDTr1^ z0ab}A%ngFsg#uTlXGjldQ$&%++OyW`_xLDRAaAdlMbI!)AoeJYV8 zv14w2VHgq1fa6jSZcX603ha}Kl#3nsa00ceC}ln5C61xIX!(GqhEl2)`Brc}Nu*lb z*R}OOe1{-h7K%BuDB4{j+IKt}vJ@DpqlglCpoY5I5lhC?JWg0L2^_Bxg(B~QaCrz% z0f;(E$%NRY5PKBQNI3(s6o|coD`E8zEPldQPll*r5b}b%FbUxbP&5(T85_8AG3?;2 zvl@Z(;`6$tyMTjsbxD>5nn&=g>ro(aGu)jgjxaOb%C!B+%*}{hUr%XwYsRQI%EUuH->OnKMlfR{aZjj7IOza zQ=%XnHAv?HZr*e}FDn$JMRMd`lwM1WC<6rAHv}RGP%BGU1iQcnt^t1MEg^8cBK#+>B1s6x%P=8oQGw#XuK;4j*rf)w!oniN#u*Kw z%~8rBVjIIf@%xWTu)UxhW8W=etBGq8c!04=#KX<=9Ux?^2FPlZ;apt34=C_HN?xn22WKZp=vXj!r1UdtTw*p*hmAa z7AU235t~W)wgILE>eaW14Iq5qFT%GHYUdZ>sYEm?(GQ+NZBS)#7P$kMmMusekhF3^ zT7Z|8A@+@)Wz~l?vHh&)$=HRT9g5sxC)wE{WE~OEWN#+CM|DAbG5Bn6j)Y==4egK= z5KXfaNx@@dgT@D%XlBA4_+yFqW`SD?YNb)o<3J^Q z+Jb3}$RvmJBJ@=A*1Ur5Z%cfC6+&N}` zm^NppAI9h04Rg@&IV33t%_rmjfN;)Ye$8MGWif|**6@9@m?J(IzY)>|d>f*s{FGZ5 z_yfC$F z0OMs#yJNaA-HU%KX22pT$s=Oh<+GR_F3e|&2f+uKRKS(j;T6h?W1v|s1Qg59073HV zyma}M7&|O#B~z`iZrhihYm<)oMQz5>&x{3)wO>7>!LKM_d}syNcqy&icut46s*10D z!bmYcYL~PmYgw+hWtEl3y?yEo1NE5!-PK;z$v)ys_&C#y8L-NW@6>zZnp>jo!&4tx zzq#4*eys6I&(1F7_g*zHom_gys3(GXKQ20Bvk|*T>O=f>p9AV1)%H(|xv$y{=154U zpI&FVwlQ7l#5Z;bvKE9tRt%1~bQq@4Bj*G&gz6ez2V=O&ECk0vyKe01-DpUV2v z8l?*FWNNYu>i^5~SO5+$U)WFE5iDnrdux5$UDjDIb<>Moiit%b-RiEJV-LK*!&k%? zPS_5Jjj*ZPDIIp5)3euAik~iM@ZU2{bBHpqc0|b?Pno?(D?`~cOa3Qm?262CyV&}*puGI<%t{6KBCh{B|6}c#PTFux!Iy2}1CR5x4IE#!XI!S*haXs! z`!uycGlgxj<7<4K<;#>{EM@5)XQ|B&hR%NU$QKTC7VnLAS+Q=g%BQ2xfpw=gPUB+N zx!q58*gV>(&p7|&?YN}3%XNcmcHVh;F7f<1+C$dW`Quw2_hQvx>|_;m6~W|83j!mRbrTauF$Fc+4Ss#Y}uib`yDg?coQP$`dIOLc*!BJdTITu-wuadZ{eNaURM)P>f~)= zIr)v1HW)qsjn%2KqI|WyGr{|h>fZ9)Et%KTq9|_pieC9K%zc?cqWr)~#tnD#d0`Ib z>?qIdY4qZ;LxUm1J_Csk&sn9trTL2Bduf#H*ya4cbyaURcGb*g2L?K4{z1#V`n15@ zyrxTLK|%WQ#XB8eC^l7Ep9eQ9-*xKWETQgp|r#>s4Pz?Iz`&Xt(U{Om^ z{znt6ZN65sR-EtsSf}{ZtDa zdd8PGR&3m5^>T$iSJ~*C@#tBp-Uw=NJ?luox%`AQC$GPPTdngK_*Tz|I&-4?w9+KS z{LhIvp0w&}jPh6p2pC%6mWMRf2{>x1Z2A^ehEm$jCkaDg1y&)yB;;+I3>cYe2fg-N z_*U0OpUyDcVB)6dpZK)oi|)w$4Zv+HKPXT?bSyOJlR!|J)UT=Eu)u|9_vvB%hlkH2 zjU+s>xJn)izHM|I^Z!os?|9Vb=G%Po>QPmhxHY+srdxK@djH(qx$j#ZL-tGzZLvC= z<=|0a-T&I6MsoS&*1bl!vc;7ful?oPjpx2R8sKulbHl^tIe+#C_ZGF!XU#6x=@*2x znyUM5WqdaLtfBbB)#bLmK{}+m^hKRq&Y-p20_D#g(fN4&nD*i& zCT5< zcrYeEOGfdJMmM>3#wTY$|hocbDJ^DfA<+(kt!ISg|iG0RuhS}L2$HUDv66Udy<+tK;HIk?b(R z+Kf+OgGu%mi4#3X^(z2nV;s{WMz%RYLL(-070w8bt|AD*sW3*=u~-D3f#As`E?V_2 zQrrIDIOsQ0#&U&v&Jd$b6_N+l(}3Wpo^E06cTjAMQZ`Vi^R{7eK#^KYJ#Q`Gr*#Gg1>M19C2s<2KXEL!CPf}>TgB2{FNY_|aiDi?rJ z6P(qH_{btYUyz*W9{%-z{3XFl8g8RboPf|oy}C>GN}I%q{-Art0>ql)Ms`RPs?!CD z(gDLX+z4HDD8izv-asg!#vv@aqYe-({IiJ*)s`W3iA_C0s;xp|QMC<(+K4733RTNT zqI8IC-k%JR z^L`L(fk&J`STmSKw9-zbt_p&`LHx}Td<5|)wq`Y{^DChflK`Voj}kGmaAFTaBOK7} zs7vC+T4?YmQeukWsD1|`n++3T<&dZ-1h+u&qksdIlnZ04NgqN9dX&^7II)&?axD+Q z-q|=$$?A%Xz6pUtizZJOBAmFJ!hdSOIRgmh;?$xktRDHi4gt&wr&7r0NfcW~dTRn3 z$l6a~yUB_HAOfBh}(l z@O?nv4OZ{`Pe2PaJ7P;vl#se7Rl?PPg1C&FWPXStlxW(=-f`;sJk1c z@R+>uLKY}{se%9xO_^-H-`>(7*29saAq!&FG~nM(G)xb?^>CBbBa}gVNddN=b7Z86 z0~p#|5bNnkIc^EcJm*o|RlqwqWvT)*uX&Ugu3&@LJega>hbOdmfa~Q*QKEx)kgHS& zX3TjMz9!fJrv@r0gVS>=Q8UMzMtMO6X5RDQlN9akMw#md%Dm^vq!S++(4xSox1-Dm XaezWQ32f#&%ItCbebo-Q9=iVneAw`3 diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/CMakeFiles/worker.dir/zmq_worker.c.o index ec0ccd849d67ee74efa4bfc4bbd0765135cc0d55..60ef8065854cbf50252806ec1ea5033ffae9668e 100644 GIT binary patch literal 17848 zcmbW82|UzK{Qp0!lp-pMPL->}Mi-?+WwTUB(M7DaZo675>YE~oZRwyx_odSHrCTRO z>D#G%D@mn85fz>2@SFMU4AXr1{U86|JX)X6Jm)>HdCz<1GoR0Ac3Z}qI$2dkg~3UM z8OJo|FlCs!@y+M9?5Qo&jp@p`@#W?GxM~Y|bSYmRQ5Y9psMWclh#xYoxjjK?R^QsGYuc5tySItl3UoPVS z6=gL!uck5+l;o&^KN!_1cxAvYS@$Ze#CoCvoMD=3DctJhstVrgWET~=+v`6}Yxv1y zR6&(GzWj2NQ&%oQAyz&^U0a^%XaRKCcA8@>k3Rx<+(r18ky-t>U8OyqcgjwpkyE-64&2}u z#AibR*la<3Eq*dB5QOqSmKO6!6hDF0Z80M$T`|8z5{if zN#Fn{lo?g+6)T%cRJ9W-n=*{7qtZl0W?Ok5`u67<1H6Z!0eykN0%HN2mIOk23j)*F>4 zRW|USJPMtzRVr2;2a9HQV>q$17Gr zxfQvx!Dt@nAjAj5$5#RW3boHL+Glc&8L-5HSr#t@_dIwbXNMXn7G6_2s|*F4E&(7G z8DP5X0@Ec8$boZS7CK&69-F35VU-6US;T}wQRD#(qo{p47YtN4For;C+Ac_mF;r%e zT3oIQUxjT6m|zy2#mG8=+OXk5;4Oa?FH4#PGC&Gk$-HcS0WTMhN98AF)WKA7(Ff(( zK%?=X1nc5QE=tpF6aGWuTl&K z7Y+lkAO{!Cb*{1m)upfP=603iE(O+LhC>(J%4ki}OTt6YiEKtYo&%p`*#2~-=B!d0 z4FHH5;U@ID`67@<*Ri&qd7#fAxrGb-MWYRk!wtuTNu;uI?U@-efm9YK_UCfBpnTr6 z2@X!4hLZ(>AtGNxnZ!^i6$xY_Lsw++EMY&J3k4yt zGa$5~qELx+k)fYNY8Wh9L~96qeIYhnCBqGGuPz-tx zVl5R2WzAxSVS+$uIBUf;y_=lwpak$H1XI*D(FVy>51vl$_g`oK`uO4EUmsVGkAGFN z*zrM$NkFKRnOokRkkut6aRJL6=gp0cNjFchI~q79*Tm<(K6jsa_boNM9kseUb?)4G ze2iYwDU*{9Bk~*jOii+^jT@0%JLT!-$I+z^Hf7o5Y=8Xt@#e?Ehd#FobW>|3aaOuZ z%`cC5Y!PkI#@i+5DF0=O%E{^9zxM30R(aNGPrGgb@XA7-&PS%*8 z5w*3$E49#j!#vWAtYcny^t0BFIajXHaYNj%F%xXAo#uz-U&xI&KD7C6;zZHQjK}ZR zr;K`3b@RAXN6&rrkcp1h->f&i$a$!vK6lyRqf<8TXgfl;UTh(|V{_tAfZj6SS6bYJ z@o)3SX1VzPYtR^$!DLvOPfN6U-#uhh(7e*%d>;pcc~iR_cyRm%$GfKN@RIl)F%wfA zQ=L*BW~A-6o~AWi>s+>$y`Ft9`_xKPW@UC&P{_0Fz!jUUL*Kn0b9ri)^YL3AY3dHo zG&rI( z<$k}B$<=YIzu9b4+4y}=T;ll4qN_dXUX|_ry;t2THh+6WSGrje?9Q@ z?%g6mQOhLKZ>3ArHjjjYVHSCaV3j3HBOqpG-#~Hjy{PW4sZsP zK41A|9q(Dm#k_Ovh4uLx2zuk1&CSNtX`FZ`rV+jL}E{dI|v2LI& z+I`!$(|>shUZqW5I$%hW-=ep@7v8b&^ii+dGm%W!qwbK&D{DR71=WYrS0($pJW8~B zbJeue{9V2Aiy5k!oldJ=PTu&#Sol5X`VPH$rbFj@4>{bXew4mm`GMOBYHu{OZG;uU zVN5MQaoe<%(@z%dJozhe>S2amZAEA}^tRT$K+>DKYevJ2(; zWs5u1Xpftlma2Ycfc(_&wU;*Lk1|P(nqhM6^p^Iww+@(3kIha!lQHRH`}aD- zB-^*>oPD*1mylGc|7}@=!{~CjzT$N@2EM`*`KWE4({H+7vDK;Wn{QXJqTq(G%~dyk zA!mMu>w4A9dgGhtbKc+L2Bkdl+i&x|Tq?sj*`1 zYS%UeJx0&fUK8n2a--V(pSr=~87anT+C9r{8wy^Ge!Ik@s15hwr%`KEOb#Wfa8Op6cW&QsCW#j5|8)^;hR~_%~+ADg#r0|k%+Jk=Ka{}|eeh!NrCs99n zL(5+Ac%uC;jj+EQhqURMa?$$259bbHPv*+(4-fpFy0JcCqSIWz?t-IF+)gOU_62Ng zn08>%V=mXXzH(D=&eSJ2b-oBw=Xi~+@3_zZC-Z&usNRD?mbqJoA3(`wQ5zh@U+5AK_^cJi%K-A~T#tR%}ixDTH7liPRD$bCH{?Mn~l z=|`p{6&DNL$L_tiH`>8%?4A(0!H=YXgs;PXa>ndceC z=el;ACA5k-^7GDx*fH^ubvv{EDpk0qRa9%7oB2=FgOT4AX8t|OWsOA@HtYU5lim>2 z#wuakWTydnWA~>NjoF>P`cz7fkUu_W+ydr^W58It72#)bmV@-d8YhcJY-v71iArDz1(27A&4Q zHQYJCcs=)^k*wfIcjr|H7PjkrCF$(gD}5(8&dVE~t}uNb(xqd7({q!-W|2YJ_ic84 zGibD2cve?IlL zl^;Ls_HS=#P-@V=f%12+3%mFT9_|n3#0r)*eCf5))5byjbbRdQkJ|k%i1=oz-#V>d zXXg7ZI)B=;_6Gf`BQlS4k^VAjn;AL0@m1}q`qQ(AD;|9PwD{g&$;QK5GZkCk1m#zk z{mp56FR1&Wj34J;ZF+L}iCg%C5wkRId%peT)3@_Am7dX>`PWY!+^*)Y*3flt#P+qW zuLi`Fu0Q?q>#^wQrAr&WN*g@`KI-&zROsk6oNLqxysmeA%IR?L?o}?<)}42UswJ*{ z?LEUl>(G=vrpIRtP%RP+S#SBNZ13j$x>xeW_5Dw2oA#C8@94AT&4`Pg@}Jix7xvy4 z7ngNsPw8cc4-eK(P!|bzAJ!XsC;gkApFx1c_T%)VATy)3AJ47y>SJ9fK5)?H=7hLI zo9>_QS&?eX&v|N+WUH+^ZldinARr|e(m{y01`{GcuWMSww0Z;s-J!=}g9A8bAkImzM0 z-O^gGUV5jb_QtS|?}wQi`Nx^s?VEqN7w>SxV&9b;yrna?k8HC~(2=LnVBA*2&CY=z z*w6CE%nN%=T{;KsSkYx`m-{2Te(KD**7tkHNRCHo1rwaczcX|G568l~sfVLRKRjWo zIKkU#Hh<~(=Z~zlE?J)!Pg>ZpeZq**<|jHWahY?(VZ^nmZ`U*1CQW;2J|(DdXOWBD z8TIt(8P=sfHi{yiUc-RGm4!U#%R8-V%ng4#AN&$`)+O_}k@#!Y??qni5BL4zsHQr2 z+`gE{&ZmM7?e|`T_+Q@6Hl!wEieGnrvz;CVIT{J`tSZ))63R!<<9HyInU|i>49_f z%r?%cpY44j^ka#Z%gNo=7w!yE9i8&CNM)3<$B*0ZHg357vS;s-OJ~yu`n~YsjUSsc z#{HD7$r}5lJ^NM}jorK8Om2*6^zhxgoK|Lc|MpWV_U-anWzM5Ex{`9;U-8+CBaFWe zo8?dx86om&SHABjV?SxqXhSo5C$|BHmczM2xt4}QErt%a7-ea}!2KA;5PaY=04%^= zNhKFDoK#RA$4M6zs4RA6RHAfLdT6$7w-yxk1RQ=~+5(Lybktd?I!Q~Nvq1%zuw`S| zQieGNkGNbl3l_8G9;o~#yvN~k&NU7+Fa&4`DmNnad2t+0ceV*uV;8dNK-zHBSp!2* zmW#?8$a1Jr)2#6t*=WNf_QR2N6P5h;0Oiz}T6VvkF6A`ct^X|Huu=b$!5oKC|1V_u zpHBa{@{4Aa~m)?S6k}WidMLy6~3(% zp3w?F(F%v#X)XD4s}=sB75=;xUeOAN-`K$TIH0M^UUz`~KztH<;$^Qjz*ND7)RLd@ zdTxn#1{~^lN0$t{HUOO-t=RW#g%50nk86cb2OPFL4tzri6T9Akg<$hCP|SqOd___z;}<3k6wCY=QBqP)bSNcJ4^VXN zwn7)OC%^$HAqkV=UD^nt(gbc)LN`K0Vg_tD!ho=O--s|qCJB*5ilj^+*!uMXJCR=O zPNWyyJY;Pt1bfL=NBfeXTSC}dFCQ-$JlI!(jExQ@rre3_!;Zf4Z4OT5pI{3dCKH0g z+ZpB~5r_9!xN2i=OK?qs+anH_JE((KZfC@y4qWB2P9(vhE#|9Q;YSG$uR&~Iia2Z+ zUU!(ouU27#?REkm%)dYg685vFGRyo#M`+&}e6W2xFu!4f9NuFvhu1SqkdtwM*DXv~ z-$t2bh7k7f*#zrMr0i!Pdq=|lkGK(BkI-2|aMI6z2;PmbFGd{u>51BXMcC^T_Vtv# z0NJZS0gzxENc--HV|@{8#W2RL*gFv10NCRAtRgtsuQddR_jqi70C9ML^DqQ_V9F%y z$??5SaClF}I^~qkdRB#D-V^qu&QF5FIfZq4LMK3i#qbp0ce#kexb*@bY!83t0TblC z!3T3sO6NK>0!c*Jlm5sE4zGQz6Gw2;&pd(~684V~$NraqGMHWv_GG&{&~cF9p)dI0 zc8w9oI`}#qO4yUv#RP)GpQK=&!<0^YG%rsO_T=?aMDTuu&KpXn8`Ake*poWH2;QI2 z(L(zYxL^3bu7^0RM(UVT_V~IOLD(A+`gQ~-$8iS1$#L`~IJqwQB98sEMEwmR?8$Ll zNN`dofzrY2)Oy069LK!`HzxXZnc!r93lYbDdLciH347Adw*)8S^NrwSeDEs^92c@* zy6CwKa&rB#A~<|E!1HiE!OaMsKyYJ%Z$cdR3qCi&w1==C0PBwH8D* zri7o-1Sg*#b`YG5|1p9OCUmY7obMT*jml@ zBVorua#bFhbQGv@xL*Jh)(JuS-YjkA_fTF;@dTtFLGfNFc(D|3k9Z=*FQ9glDPE8C zH&c8a(m6u$(Wqb7DDHuDiYQ)-@?{ivK|1d#z90G7K=C%nzAYLD9M2_)>r#9J@~1Dw z^N=o=;_0ZrHWZIT_I!%t=UO+4pFnx|-VPJ?GZ^J16d#Q8_`ZSdryzgils$eQ*hq12 zWRLFySci||kVV-?A^VFIcSP~OL2-N?KBBk<(tl0yJe04cIDY=a8|v6k{5;wLjVI=> zlwoA_DPD*2`27Xj!)FVahEn$9Q63+${Z$NHJ7jsvn zgWsDlFF`sZD0>l_Cu1o76!|fU;y;iMo{w1nBeI`P*`Gl9*%a4A?RrsM1^JKP*RcLA zq#sP#Z%6qB6u*J=@p~NB2}c~)!(91aS{UXKrSlAp`x%O_LHrrTv3^_B4%Xj~>^o9? zHLBl-;;&KOmg2rB{_`lFhV(-yUW)RG6c0r4%%Hdn($AxKCGztz#k->M`bcqnUsOls zI1W9K&R~jXq588ZUWNRLrg$pS!S7R8zZdFP7G?hi@%t3lL+w^j{4Ua0Lk}fb-wyes zLvbIZKZxRcko^>j>meRY@m)wKj^cQo-9Yip$o>GuM<9Lt{(}9-@6Y%>1@jfizAt>( z0ts_Zq>tZ6Fjqryn@-uUKymay9Lhoo{JlUpWsm1yGG&jyUr2Ao{shJApwl2-q4-|p z=RJxaSDG_r6mNsZ{UgPHA^TqxH$m~~ffi)k-x!p)Kt~+6Mx;NUve!h<_b!w@-and8 z*$a?8ZU^hnLHesGd;Gn|Zb~0@i^-&T3DUVpaqRz1N`E7YODSbP8qJ4liff|z_L1i;y4Z~pmQKCrR?#1 zOQ!6dP#n;7XZwYuSsnbHEY@cs_|p%az&OB5R)q2<6yJjK11WwH<>8(NOjrlMXAV{3 zCfQ-vIjKi8%Z{ z0Zdp2Kc@+mxQQ=7_5l=+K|GY=>kyYxd^6(s`$6395ybKP3g)K}kEL`jA-*X!f?YEg~|jz z;3$(Sj{*2hDhd&B+5a2F^%ckj4A&<-oZ(6($_!iTEAol(_X-sINf@s3T;Ss)6)gm2 zurfkYf!JRJt2Q(6zkNiw3TO|XLJYos2YI0+G*l#(F{$K0EeMhKC&RvjY z(op-IsRHajw1H_H_^>`v1zDPGF(X6w8)dG!|2RJioU{}_3)nG`YT%dpAi?;-F~ZH@ z_&EaBQu}6Tqi8Y}FkBy0V-x&-n=)a!7;ZX)WT8AX{iSVZgOZl~Hyop^g6l*7;iC#} zAN#)mu$KJah1$pKgHo-zKF)`Lla|_dLG7EN@q_KdTO-|mG+?lO{M-&s*;J#aJmUQ= zgq!N)I3$9Cmg-la4t~ZJ(Gj!;!Rl-&~pCFn_UTn`_2qxzH?^BvWvIj)EKF>nH( zbEs*~)S>!#{IEUtALsu8Cs32FZw7yS029?9T|Xa~v^0KE@WKKqLwR85Kb+FIKAt}< zwGFG7!G#H=7$^=B9L|>JA7u2}0qry3m!=>kQT|g|_BS*w)i)fktdIBMmAU_fgZUq~ C83jcE literal 17280 zcmbW83tUXi|Hsd^E+G|_TQ2L8vZaecZi(!#MHjj}gf3gHO0}D9Qz5qsE4e*FqtKnB3Y=%7(#w&G-0ybM9D2GLHg3{<}jzUmdAgF-)I65I#H))+P ze!L2(@>Qs~*zDA$3(yd2J~m&j*UXU zzgjCV5U`ECHHZ^bQ|_@nVg12vMhmJzOV#596-z-cTYO=gyKxx}4^OCws`eGewbL_z zK~V_4n&k`Q?5lwtG$R1q_*>K^U(CJ1$f_!X>f!VI5h!Z*BjJ0FK?; zq5nmo0tM}J*k-|C_zDfRS-0fv+4hmsD{H+vz}9mQef#z6U#`bO8pkMNGr&<8$7Zpc ztQDamwgeVM=fVRM*1ILrY&qMHn$y4+P#a1vz)6HnfZFBC+VH@H8Bn!R9V}NGn-7e| zC9n>~$JT**in}O=7kVgdvpS`F@d;1??6B>$#8?rV33zla{AT2%|J|-qk0+n9lW63W zZafDAAS{T@hX!D?1+mxhX?&LE_vS{=!qUG=!KH`0p@_`^N@08~t3pNY1~Q`4MbCUL@ZRk4WV05hFuu}b{@u$1jd>J(L5}zhB*&P(J215 zaJ5|j!niEhFtYRSNXO=D#LRAjef-V9|I#kJvXt$%dD%FFwO9x)_Um9V&KD|NbHJJa z&T%*dA(Xu)GR=;F3`;

XUGa482@rYmitxQq4Rx?^q3RW3Vp@gk~?TxuC zQ#SCgr2;H5)xzkgY9`DS-v#1aueWh0AZ@;#C5(e!+k^E9m}nVwu=f66O{tNFg>mj* zo7Y2A5TX*`UkM}c0z@UC|1tSt+SG8=RDwu>)mW1~)WWzamt@?3a03EH>XFfGt{^X-GR@m3BHxc><1!2OQBMb%;h zoJ+{nwJO4BK?w)tV)EriXjW(T9Slqyzi}eJz9C#l^E^&&l zfk_WsPzDB09)A#-Ltygk1CwV5C<5n#40OD%JT_0J;>4Wa6OZNTh4RLSNM&-X&Wy8MB$Ee7 z{EUr_LHS(!NmCu%dH)dw1c`llaw*S8CKk!XJh?wO`Z7}`0rCJ*P{3kP=)xjk%eON# zMJf^V0&t;79w3!4!J-gGCiZ1y0U^Myi_l3hX-X@WeWVh(I6@BEhN*2`sMIG=ENA3C zA!AKUf}}p8Ab)A7e5{@?LpUpyNW?yJMktc_27x~D>?h6W+>&z=Od)eqL7A;o&I^-- zhK0arfKJK83&X^r^3H_OP_YE^&=9F4RLqzu{cLGd6a<|CAqo};OJ$L~`BE7#P#g(k zOj;57`a;ZGBnk>+2cR=+sKpM5FSJCOk%9iAWFrj=^5sc@w;)zBk&nE^7%xN=APYr0 zc<+EIu#57D^ASnz3GP8Iu9^jR%6^;-|MLD>*}Lq_zbjMb%-EW`?m)Ko$YU<2TsH*^ z+7F)*(sNFq%m7`Tk=Z=OY}EiCwUNmu`3nU0x`U<~4zZZl)s<`2>)6No8&`Tp-n}w< zy!o$CY53V2dlH`~jtQ;0mAE8)@8FnW7IUxrB~H|~3QZQ2owDyfUh8Y}dBwq1Q*L%W z{Wfvgor~*qjnuM_WlWb%DY@FY&iDNGgGP44S3k6M9(keZkDc;YDT2qAHQoADRoqEa zlb?(+>T+$)5@+iwfmdn2TOnK2zQj087jfV8dbwip>dyINSM#m8mlxzOUOkTUWyAyS zdmsOH79)Hado{OwuG-&B(e!_uYM3CSGLr-c>(!^I_roW|!QVR_SUT7-Y@2<@}wJ;-tpi!(Z;sPg(K#fv!{Uj$~oGeQ=!c zA=UK2b-V3LwZ{CVUv`@FkpGAGw=Yf`mk(RBD`3CX>;XR=Cy$vF{jPeN`+#)O^335U zx*oW1?;#0rfA@zzf6=DP{qEdMG}S*csU1&ERdIC*Ley%y7A|BW>5NQ?j5X8E*b*!Nc7WcB%i$IPy!dWYcTD`lgHpX~(}sFCA0i z|C67av-b8bA=WW#a<3*!R>GWDZkEhn3-}(-+ z?=@!PCrN5kOr?HO)ww-tayO4t<6l)ZY(Kg`*T=K|-ol+xdsk2GW0fK@dD8W1M$D~i zuJ>+l8Z~&0wjj55&1Qzn^<+TPejd?758_2==uCm znlpELZqU;NyQd8=Z@%_cyWuzGLH#%9so9=0KOdF$cfMCMv3T$@yG!ToH+0JG(a)-K zK-0SLuP4*w5oZUkS+2kJ;^G70I$7qquX&5sX*&r&z!4cuX9 zxor3Q%DdhFhzvTE-x&Y-akFEGt+)EecJKWknGtrwCzQR` z|9tL`8GCmRv$(9?A*R!J=*Du+xI*Jo`+~Vr(y-dBC#l6V`zC5&wJstJt z`Ja_R`ht- zuwBVR5ASqacI43H4hI`2TJndxHSd+IfWK-%BG%QJH=Qn7Yt|0DGNmAw9a(RpJ_eTdEejM zb1vIoIIbx894?aOw=a#``rv^Lqi}H{bt1~+u-VS#QxcsR;WSy0?LuO%D z+qfr_lbhP*Ojx~BrOOSEzRwyDw$BM3{#UeX!jGvpf7%SxA8uZB>e0KyZZqqgEV_J8 z9_*3*L(Og3w--+}?teCI*I45F$ky?~*qYvXFSEwur8+?PS+Hs@N)>&Kr zF*4!Bn7^6umRqe=r(*ZM$FuV#rzaiBDCB=Bo={dF_GNTg?zpG*b?ZkrjKA}xac`*L z;8H*FhRUQb8y&yhJnZuMz;)f^q+*9#r9HlD#Qc3Quf3tizGd5s#e2`|l{g2E?A6U~ zi`FBJ#E~ZHU;N#j%p8YBF1VJr?_9x~_AkuZ`yF}6zglwO!5vlaKHsnRjaDzvE(*2u zO1I%%)Kz)(JTctNq`cpYoPPa?7ApskDi6rjTtFPGjwN06fNDDHT=c6eOro! z>HWKR9kwB0>Y^Yu60UW?7-?|R%VSw21D*%SS~h5Hh= z?5*ng?LlN3o+n$`AKv7=5xW#gN_m=9Gk>ZmP91T5&|kLT&jo3G#hZ#^EpO4I1A*L? zqUGNk`mJ^!H`OFNV@=`*jX~$dLIai0-L`Hv@O=|?#r|36-h*nxP8`*eH4f=`BD~>O z!K=Xf;FJD6j=Zh>wBPNS(X7#)Jx3QkT>Iprdq?&C4>Mh6ehDuyIWz0bk*dRi$Gh)5 zcf0cHbSba(I z`pq2&6r~mpaO|_y#Oa5%wc>Ae@10G7iwCXEd!?H^VOqzIqTPbC(SMd685pfrcmGlc5T!n#hh3fWiYa9_SHx`(StTKJe^!L8oDj!dq54Cr0U~PTuz3d%WYe zB`&)-#^1wNjIyzF*YB|u__2}H2b)s^l9F$Uw%`$ zdgkrkSBK4;fAzl*e(>Mg^S3P7EhPlcTHFQFRk2>=?3U~l5Mdd?C`+{gLw-4I{ zYhxeM^d>c2ZC1boW%;Q5Jy{NIRJ7QrKpG8r#C}X;-9#n-K0tHrn2+ohGhNDUz8n8u z!eyiWJA*kc)8XHc<-b1=U=f!=KVmUJM=ry@Xrd^zul_FvNq53eb_@a20w1{FN2fjj zw8jUu!S&nV@L{JlJLYY0OTeL@F6jA^ohyLZw4rxugS)lCb=%+`ZSX+Ap+7iY?A!(n z&ehiX71IWfYlA1X!4I{;Pq)G0o>puA+-ieAY=b{hzQ7Ug5<{Mi z9$wjN3b1mKpniEy4f^6Ds!=%Vf;_5LtjkKA#as1jw0?FnK5_ zg&SgwNG=UvlvVx{Ch=iHlzWk$%AH9j1XPxS>N2soxoCkD*!2_3J<)car#v!53>uP2 zd_p4O(I+^B@$?Lpi+ln-ef$GG=Y#!D)-@k_gr`It&Yq(kN9ZxczF=QaCI!_c$WvJ0 z9U$>lRt%DY-9d1I$1GWHR*L|S_zF{GZTpA<|7t3HaNGxIC_Ngb> zBJ^ap2tDDh9$SS%uv@GZv|$MP;RCzp>Fo)l1v@8_v*DnOg@WN_2EZ?n;4%YuAb*1W zWtfIS2omJ*Hih{p2tk7PPPiIlZVk?1f?N%JFt>#eBy0z-$c{?P>f!2*_2C4ETFlqA z!H*FfUUOJqia2Z+UQd|A*O4$mKf8es<_!>ng#GNR%rfvgg$e4rgAdlLg82*+^Bp3%cr?8!Yh{I~| zG#7keGAH!?KpyMu2;QII-jtnUXauAMgr4*#lHl;#$M)9}ob>ZL!FhzfjNtIE9Izc* z*in#hzg{Y{j3eUkK>8yk_&`vG?X05g)FC_T2t8>hk>G;}JL#02CS>O%p(pL!p!9ft z-X-*d3H#*)C*%2n;AA|%5u98f@FOyg8@%7cq>A<{U^UXu?gS_8j37Aa=Oo0jeLZA< zDxoLs&n7t8FF%5l{aQ$H(w|s@lh^Mdg6o04;c>r1aCi^G{42rXGdAX`=y?VAYXa(* z7UD2&283RZ(3AH&Q-Z^(Jq6jZChU;+J3E4t>yMb=!-#f62>WEaO9&3z4Mgq65q8LS zw-cOfH?0j`Oxa(H?3WOFGX7r)PTqe_(eo~hryeL_!O zcjg2q?YI(rI1vXC!AbpU#BsZssND^Oo^1CJ!Ho&~C=BegA-V)XDbxIm8_s1oq$3~% z3EG4Sa#(jH%zy;%5int{%rOkSN5cf&gTCSf=KxGlkESG>N3Yvi4%@v5FB*{Wb1BqA z-iZ1;1r~yYxfvWdkerlycha@eI_iE5*;Fyf?+=C@-b>NR-FV+t~ln z$R7ozuSNN76t_eA6pGuRIAlY>Ib8?RrxD9pYk& zUbsEQc2jb5tJ+_bghxI3rULCcMxdPQ6 zK=ERfx2AY78ppX5Pe%5GD1IH~*HT=D#_JHp-H`pu6vy|urxdS1{?}1l1;w)iI^zBg zL3$&KH=uT%D82#d11LTe`Hz2hVEZ2sKS=2{k$<@qFGTjAP~0B*Q%UhaWFJ4Q;C7E7 zJr6y^VBQ~b{QCm)bYy2Xr5}j+0*dcPd@04Pko_AJABg;ZPVso8|4ecCpBrH61RttE z!hZfj@fk{S{QJ-hacCBr!29AtN}qz_?@j6P{(58^`n43t|CMPw#rGil2Pl3Hb_S#@ zimRi3U7>gf6rXz(H$m~KLmc<_7s|Is3o?$|cVu51ajcI+c|A&BiuC4`{sGFnQhNM% zF`kqj@9Qt3^vWnOObo@NQNb39KSciQqd4x@al~=I`l2}GQTm~19^Rq24vO<5$_{={ z@{ZEuc7IYF&xbDPcMXm|o)3K}Ziw0)i8%H@1NrGf>5rg!52Sb~vJ-|l_8-4*Tu7`#G4dWN0?dCYWxxG?hwb)6{#&DR ztjF(31r#?!`e_u$_d!RB+akRS#qs+UavuQtS#43dR>C z>hJ&ezylTGnBw&T+p$I`^dI4(X@X@8d?yCi6YFN8JW=H-k32XbL4xlzVO@9)!35t0 z!UWe7$k8$g5u4hhdN_}dbo)l20NVWj)`$Cu&?Y%|L6%WP?LVa&#QsAKOjh8-N~nTr zv<}Zg_ZwCWz9<w?ZY9#^>O^70E6wD;sS6EQyr`T65fYV=346GIIIN)t<^7wFVjJ)S00+baWlC7 z4p73@Z&oNz?jr~Bz8EgX_3$wn)yL)d_yKni19ZgoFg^)R;ByESW~L6+$K!|f*ngbA z0ZyPzx<0QrQcw-j^{)U~YvX4&^Sms;M3at ngN$A~pnffUxeihkLnhsXZ`E-+?i diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/Testing/Temporary/LastTest.log b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/Testing/Temporary/LastTest.log index 11d10d6..e223ae0 100644 --- a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/Testing/Temporary/LastTest.log +++ b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/Testing/Temporary/LastTest.log @@ -1,3 +1,3 @@ -Start testing: Jan 29 01:35 CET +Start testing: Jan 29 16:00 CET ---------------------------------------------------------- -End testing: Jan 29 01:35 CET +End testing: Jan 29 16:00 CET diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt index 02e278d..03b7c77 100644 --- a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt +++ b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt @@ -1,33654 +1,3 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Middlemarch - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online -at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, -you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located -before using this eBook. - -Title: Middlemarch - -Author: George Eliot - -Release date: July 1, 1994 [eBook #145] - Most recently updated: October 29, 2024 - -Language: English - - - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDDLEMARCH *** -Middlemarch - -George Eliot - -New York and Boston -H. M. Caldwell Company Publishers - -To my dear Husband, George Henry Lewes, -in this nineteenth year of our blessed union. - - -Contents - - PRELUDE. - - BOOK I. MISS BROOKE. - CHAPTER I. - CHAPTER II. - CHAPTER III. - CHAPTER IV. - CHAPTER V. - CHAPTER VI. - CHAPTER VII. - CHAPTER VIII. - CHAPTER IX. - CHAPTER X. - CHAPTER XI. - CHAPTER XII. - - BOOK II. OLD AND YOUNG. - CHAPTER XIII. - CHAPTER XIV. - CHAPTER XV. - CHAPTER XVI. - CHAPTER XVII. - CHAPTER XVIII. - CHAPTER XIX. - CHAPTER XX. - CHAPTER XXI. - CHAPTER XXII. - - BOOK III. WAITING FOR DEATH. - CHAPTER XXIII. - CHAPTER XXIV. - CHAPTER XXV. - CHAPTER XXVI. - CHAPTER XXVII. - CHAPTER XXVIII. - CHAPTER XXIX. - CHAPTER XXX. - CHAPTER XXXI. - CHAPTER XXXII. - CHAPTER XXXIII. - - BOOK IV. THREE LOVE PROBLEMS. - CHAPTER XXXIV. - CHAPTER XXXV. - CHAPTER XXXVI. - CHAPTER XXXVII. - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - CHAPTER XXXIX. - CHAPTER XL. - CHAPTER XLI. - CHAPTER XLII. - - BOOK V. THE DEAD HAND. - CHAPTER XLIII. - CHAPTER XLIV. - CHAPTER XLV. - CHAPTER XLVI. - CHAPTER XLVII. - CHAPTER XLVIII. - CHAPTER XLIX. - CHAPTER L. - CHAPTER LI. - CHAPTER LII. - - BOOK VI. THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. - CHAPTER LIII. - CHAPTER LIV. - CHAPTER LV. - CHAPTER LVI. - CHAPTER LVII. - CHAPTER LVIII. - CHAPTER LIX. - CHAPTER LX. - CHAPTER LXI. - CHAPTER LXII. - - BOOK VII. TWO TEMPTATIONS. - CHAPTER LXIII. - CHAPTER LXIV. - CHAPTER LXV. - CHAPTER LXVI. - CHAPTER LXVII. - CHAPTER LXVIII. - CHAPTER LXIX. - CHAPTER LXX. - CHAPTER LXXI. - - BOOK VIII. SUNSET AND SUNRISE. - CHAPTER LXXII. - CHAPTER LXXIII. - CHAPTER LXXIV. - CHAPTER LXXV. - CHAPTER LXXVI. - CHAPTER LXXVII. - CHAPTER LXXVIII. - CHAPTER LXXIX. - CHAPTER LXXX. - CHAPTER LXXXI. - CHAPTER LXXXII. - CHAPTER LXXXIII. - CHAPTER LXXXIV. - CHAPTER LXXXV. - CHAPTER LXXXVI. - - FINALE. - - - - -PRELUDE. - - -Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious -mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, -at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with -some gentleness at the thought of the little girl walking forth one -morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go and seek -martyrdom in the country of the Moors? Out they toddled from rugged -Avila, wide-eyed and helpless-looking as two fawns, but with human -hearts, already beating to a national idea; until domestic reality met -them in the shape of uncles, and turned them back from their great -resolve. That child-pilgrimage was a fit beginning. Theresas -passionate, ideal nature demanded an epic life: what were many-volumed -romances of chivalry and the social conquests of a brilliant girl to -her? Her flame quickly burned up that light fuel; and, fed from within, -soared after some illimitable satisfaction, some object which would -never justify weariness, which would reconcile self-despair with the -rapturous consciousness of life beyond self. She found her epos in the -reform of a religious order. - -That Spanish woman who lived three hundred years ago, was certainly not -the last of her kind. Many Theresas have been born who found for -themselves no epic life wherein there was a constant unfolding of -far-resonant action; perhaps only a life of mistakes, the offspring of -a certain spiritual grandeur ill-matched with the meanness of -opportunity; perhaps a tragic failure which found no sacred poet and -sank unwept into oblivion. With dim lights and tangled circumstance -they tried to shape their thought and deed in noble agreement; but -after all, to common eyes their struggles seemed mere inconsistency and -formlessness; for these later-born Theresas were helped by no coherent -social faith and order which could perform the function of knowledge -for the ardently willing soul. Their ardor alternated between a vague -ideal and the common yearning of womanhood; so that the one was -disapproved as extravagance, and the other condemned as a lapse. - -Some have felt that these blundering lives are due to the inconvenient -indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures -of women: if there were one level of feminine incompetence as strict as -the ability to count three and no more, the social lot of women might -be treated with scientific certitude. Meanwhile the indefiniteness -remains, and the limits of variation are really much wider than any one -would imagine from the sameness of womens coiffure and the favorite -love-stories in prose and verse. Here and there a cygnet is reared -uneasily among the ducklings in the brown pond, and never finds the -living stream in fellowship with its own oary-footed kind. Here and -there is born a Saint Theresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving -heart-beats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are -dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some -long-recognizable deed. - - - - -BOOK I. -MISS BROOKE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -Since I can do no good because a woman, -Reach constantly at something that is near it. - _The Maids Tragedy:_ BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. - - -Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into -relief by poor dress. Her hand and wrist were so finely formed that she -could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those in which the -Blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters; and her profile as well as -her stature and bearing seemed to gain the more dignity from her plain -garments, which by the side of provincial fashion gave her the -impressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible,or from one of our -elder poets,in a paragraph of to-days newspaper. She was usually -spoken of as being remarkably clever, but with the addition that her -sister Celia had more common-sense. Nevertheless, Celia wore scarcely -more trimmings; and it was only to close observers that her dress -differed from her sisters, and had a shade of coquetry in its -arrangements; for Miss Brookes plain dressing was due to mixed -conditions, in most of which her sister shared. The pride of being -ladies had something to do with it: the Brooke connections, though not -exactly aristocratic, were unquestionably good: if you inquired -backward for a generation or two, you would not find any yard-measuring -or parcel-tying forefathersanything lower than an admiral or a -clergyman; and there was even an ancestor discernible as a Puritan -gentleman who served under Cromwell, but afterwards conformed, and -managed to come out of all political troubles as the proprietor of a -respectable family estate. Young women of such birth, living in a quiet -country-house, and attending a village church hardly larger than a -parlor, naturally regarded frippery as the ambition of a hucksters -daughter. Then there was well-bred economy, which in those days made -show in dress the first item to be deducted from, when any margin was -required for expenses more distinctive of rank. Such reasons would have -been enough to account for plain dress, quite apart from religious -feeling; but in Miss Brookes case, religion alone would have -determined it; and Celia mildly acquiesced in all her sisters -sentiments, only infusing them with that common-sense which is able to -accept momentous doctrines without any eccentric agitation. Dorothea -knew many passages of Pascals Pensees and of Jeremy Taylor by heart; -and to her the destinies of mankind, seen by the light of Christianity, -made the solicitudes of feminine fashion appear an occupation for -Bedlam. She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life -involving eternal consequences, with a keen interest in gimp and -artificial protrusions of drapery. Her mind was theoretic, and yearned -by its nature after some lofty conception of the world which might -frankly include the parish of Tipton and her own rule of conduct there; -she was enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing -whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, -to make retractations, and then to incur martyrdom after all in a -quarter where she had not sought it. Certainly such elements in the -character of a marriageable girl tended to interfere with her lot, and -hinder it from being decided according to custom, by good looks, -vanity, and merely canine affection. With all this, she, the elder of -the sisters, was not yet twenty, and they had both been educated, since -they were about twelve years old and had lost their parents, on plans -at once narrow and promiscuous, first in an English family and -afterwards in a Swiss family at Lausanne, their bachelor uncle and -guardian trying in this way to remedy the disadvantages of their -orphaned condition. - -It was hardly a year since they had come to live at Tipton Grange with -their uncle, a man nearly sixty, of acquiescent temper, miscellaneous -opinions, and uncertain vote. He had travelled in his younger years, -and was held in this part of the county to have contracted a too -rambling habit of mind. Mr. Brookes conclusions were as difficult to -predict as the weather: it was only safe to say that he would act with -benevolent intentions, and that he would spend as little money as -possible in carrying them out. For the most glutinously indefinite -minds enclose some hard grains of habit; and a man has been seen lax -about all his own interests except the retention of his snuff-box, -concerning which he was watchful, suspicious, and greedy of clutch. - -In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in -abeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and -virtues, turning sometimes into impatience of her uncles talk or his -way of letting things be on his estate, and making her long all the -more for the time when she would be of age and have some command of -money for generous schemes. She was regarded as an heiress; for not -only had the sisters seven hundred a-year each from their parents, but -if Dorothea married and had a son, that son would inherit Mr. Brookes -estate, presumably worth about three thousand a-yeara rental which -seemed wealth to provincial families, still discussing Mr. Peels late -conduct on the Catholic question, innocent of future gold-fields, and -of that gorgeous plutocracy which has so nobly exalted the necessities -of genteel life. - -And how should Dorothea not marry?a girl so handsome and with such -prospects? Nothing could hinder it but her love of extremes, and her -insistence on regulating life according to notions which might cause a -wary man to hesitate before he made her an offer, or even might lead -her at last to refuse all offers. A young lady of some birth and -fortune, who knelt suddenly down on a brick floor by the side of a sick -laborer and prayed fervidly as if she thought herself living in the -time of the Apostleswho had strange whims of fasting like a Papist, -and of sitting up at night to read old theological books! Such a wife -might awaken you some fine morning with a new scheme for the -application of her income which would interfere with political economy -and the keeping of saddle-horses: a man would naturally think twice -before he risked himself in such fellowship. Women were expected to -have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and of domestic -life was, that opinions were not acted on. Sane people did what their -neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know -and avoid them. - -The rural opinion about the new young ladies, even among the cottagers, -was generally in favor of Celia, as being so amiable and -innocent-looking, while Miss Brookes large eyes seemed, like her -religion, too unusual and striking. Poor Dorothea! compared with her, -the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise; so much -subtler is a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of -blazonry or clock-face for it. - -Yet those who approached Dorothea, though prejudiced against her by -this alarming hearsay, found that she had a charm unaccountably -reconcilable with it. Most men thought her bewitching when she was on -horseback. She loved the fresh air and the various aspects of the -country, and when her eyes and cheeks glowed with mingled pleasure she -looked very little like a devotee. Riding was an indulgence which she -allowed herself in spite of conscientious qualms; she felt that she -enjoyed it in a pagan sensuous way, and always looked forward to -renouncing it. - -She was open, ardent, and not in the least self-admiring; indeed, it -was pretty to see how her imagination adorned her sister Celia with -attractions altogether superior to her own, and if any gentleman -appeared to come to the Grange from some other motive than that of -seeing Mr. Brooke, she concluded that he must be in love with Celia: -Sir James Chettam, for example, whom she constantly considered from -Celias point of view, inwardly debating whether it would be good for -Celia to accept him. That he should be regarded as a suitor to herself -would have seemed to her a ridiculous irrelevance. Dorothea, with all -her eagerness to know the truths of life, retained very childlike ideas -about marriage. She felt sure that she would have accepted the -judicious Hooker, if she had been born in time to save him from that -wretched mistake he made in matrimony; or John Milton when his -blindness had come on; or any of the other great men whose odd habits -it would have been glorious piety to endure; but an amiable handsome -baronet, who said Exactly to her remarks even when she expressed -uncertainty,how could he affect her as a lover? The really delightful -marriage must be that where your husband was a sort of father, and -could teach you even Hebrew, if you wished it. - -These peculiarities of Dorotheas character caused Mr. Brooke to be all -the more blamed in neighboring families for not securing some -middle-aged lady as guide and companion to his nieces. But he himself -dreaded so much the sort of superior woman likely to be available for -such a position, that he allowed himself to be dissuaded by Dorotheas -objections, and was in this case brave enough to defy the worldthat is -to say, Mrs. Cadwallader the Rectors wife, and the small group of -gentry with whom he visited in the northeast corner of Loamshire. So -Miss Brooke presided in her uncles household, and did not at all -dislike her new authority, with the homage that belonged to it. - -Sir James Chettam was going to dine at the Grange to-day with another -gentleman whom the girls had never seen, and about whom Dorothea felt -some venerating expectation. This was the Reverend Edward Casaubon, -noted in the county as a man of profound learning, understood for many -years to be engaged on a great work concerning religious history; also -as a man of wealth enough to give lustre to his piety, and having views -of his own which were to be more clearly ascertained on the publication -of his book. His very name carried an impressiveness hardly to be -measured without a precise chronology of scholarship. - -Early in the day Dorothea had returned from the infant school which she -had set going in the village, and was taking her usual place in the -pretty sitting-room which divided the bedrooms of the sisters, bent on -finishing a plan for some buildings (a kind of work which she delighted -in), when Celia, who had been watching her with a hesitating desire to -propose something, said - -Dorothea, dear, if you dont mindif you are not very busysuppose we -looked at mammas jewels to-day, and divided them? It is exactly six -months to-day since uncle gave them to you, and you have not looked at -them yet. - -Celias face had the shadow of a pouting expression in it, the full -presence of the pout being kept back by an habitual awe of Dorothea and -principle; two associated facts which might show a mysterious -electricity if you touched them incautiously. To her relief, Dorotheas -eyes were full of laughter as she looked up. - -What a wonderful little almanac you are, Celia! Is it six calendar or -six lunar months? - -It is the last day of September now, and it was the first of April -when uncle gave them to you. You know, he said that he had forgotten -them till then. I believe you have never thought of them since you -locked them up in the cabinet here. - -Well, dear, we should never wear them, you know. Dorothea spoke in a -full cordial tone, half caressing, half explanatory. She had her pencil -in her hand, and was making tiny side-plans on a margin. - -Celia colored, and looked very grave. I think, dear, we are wanting in -respect to mammas memory, to put them by and take no notice of them. -And, she added, after hesitating a little, with a rising sob of -mortification, necklaces are quite usual now; and Madame Poincon, who -was stricter in some things even than you are, used to wear ornaments. -And Christians generallysurely there are women in heaven now who wore -jewels. Celia was conscious of some mental strength when she really -applied herself to argument. - -You would like to wear them? exclaimed Dorothea, an air of astonished -discovery animating her whole person with a dramatic action which she -had caught from that very Madame Poincon who wore the ornaments. Of -course, then, let us have them out. Why did you not tell me before? But -the keys, the keys! She pressed her hands against the sides of her -head and seemed to despair of her memory. - -They are here, said Celia, with whom this explanation had been long -meditated and prearranged. - -Pray open the large drawer of the cabinet and get out the jewel-box. - -The casket was soon open before them, and the various jewels spread -out, making a bright parterre on the table. It was no great collection, -but a few of the ornaments were really of remarkable beauty, the finest -that was obvious at first being a necklace of purple amethysts set in -exquisite gold work, and a pearl cross with five brilliants in it. -Dorothea immediately took up the necklace and fastened it round her -sisters neck, where it fitted almost as closely as a bracelet; but the -circle suited the Henrietta-Maria style of Celias head and neck, and -she could see that it did, in the pier-glass opposite. - -There, Celia! you can wear that with your Indian muslin. But this -cross you must wear with your dark dresses. - -Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. O Dodo, you must keep the -cross yourself. - -No, no, dear, no, said Dorothea, putting up her hand with careless -deprecation. - -Yes, indeed you must; it would suit youin your black dress, now, -said Celia, insistingly. You _might_ wear that. - -Not for the world, not for the world. A cross is the last thing I -would wear as a trinket. Dorothea shuddered slightly. - -Then you will think it wicked in me to wear it, said Celia, uneasily. - -No, dear, no, said Dorothea, stroking her sisters cheek. Souls have -complexions too: what will suit one will not suit another. - -But you might like to keep it for mammas sake. - -No, I have other things of mammasher sandal-wood box which I am so -fond ofplenty of things. In fact, they are all yours, dear. We need -discuss them no longer. Theretake away your property. - -Celia felt a little hurt. There was a strong assumption of superiority -in this Puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh of -an unenthusiastic sister than a Puritanic persecution. - -But how can I wear ornaments if you, who are the elder sister, will -never wear them? - -Nay, Celia, that is too much to ask, that I should wear trinkets to -keep you in countenance. If I were to put on such a necklace as that, I -should feel as if I had been pirouetting. The world would go round with -me, and I should not know how to walk. - -Celia had unclasped the necklace and drawn it off. It would be a -little tight for your neck; something to lie down and hang would suit -you better, she said, with some satisfaction. The complete unfitness -of the necklace from all points of view for Dorothea, made Celia -happier in taking it. She was opening some ring-boxes, which disclosed -a fine emerald with diamonds, and just then the sun passing beyond a -cloud sent a bright gleam over the table. - -How very beautiful these gems are! said Dorothea, under a new current -of feeling, as sudden as the gleam. It is strange how deeply colors -seem to penetrate one, like scent. I suppose that is the reason why -gems are used as spiritual emblems in the Revelation of St. John. They -look like fragments of heaven. I think that emerald is more beautiful -than any of them. - -And there is a bracelet to match it, said Celia. We did not notice -this at first. - -They are lovely, said Dorothea, slipping the ring and bracelet on her -finely turned finger and wrist, and holding them towards the window on -a level with her eyes. All the while her thought was trying to justify -her delight in the colors by merging them in her mystic religious joy. - -You _would_ like those, Dorothea, said Celia, rather falteringly, -beginning to think with wonder that her sister showed some weakness, -and also that emeralds would suit her own complexion even better than -purple amethysts. You must keep that ring and braceletif nothing -else. But see, these agates are very pretty and quiet. - -Yes! I will keep thesethis ring and bracelet, said Dorothea. Then, -letting her hand fall on the table, she said in another toneYet what -miserable men find such things, and work at them, and sell them! She -paused again, and Celia thought that her sister was going to renounce -the ornaments, as in consistency she ought to do. - -Yes, dear, I will keep these, said Dorothea, decidedly. But take all -the rest away, and the casket. - -She took up her pencil without removing the jewels, and still looking -at them. She thought of often having them by her, to feed her eye at -these little fountains of pure color. - -Shall you wear them in company? said Celia, who was watching her with -real curiosity as to what she would do. - -Dorothea glanced quickly at her sister. Across all her imaginative -adornment of those whom she loved, there darted now and then a keen -discernment, which was not without a scorching quality. If Miss Brooke -ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward -fire. - -Perhaps, she said, rather haughtily. I cannot tell to what level I -may sink. - -Celia blushed, and was unhappy: she saw that she had offended her -sister, and dared not say even anything pretty about the gift of the -ornaments which she put back into the box and carried away. Dorothea -too was unhappy, as she went on with her plan-drawing, questioning the -purity of her own feeling and speech in the scene which had ended with -that little explosion. - -Celias consciousness told her that she had not been at all in the -wrong: it was quite natural and justifiable that she should have asked -that question, and she repeated to herself that Dorothea was -inconsistent: either she should have taken her full share of the -jewels, or, after what she had said, she should have renounced them -altogether. - -I am sureat least, I trust, thought Celia, that the wearing of a -necklace will not interfere with my prayers. And I do not see that I -should be bound by Dorotheas opinions now we are going into society, -though of course she herself ought to be bound by them. But Dorothea is -not always consistent. - -Thus Celia, mutely bending over her tapestry, until she heard her -sister calling her. - -Here, Kitty, come and look at my plan; I shall think I am a great -architect, if I have not got incompatible stairs and fireplaces. - -As Celia bent over the paper, Dorothea put her cheek against her -sisters arm caressingly. Celia understood the action. Dorothea saw -that she had been in the wrong, and Celia pardoned her. Since they -could remember, there had been a mixture of criticism and awe in the -attitude of Celias mind towards her elder sister. The younger had -always worn a yoke; but is there any yoked creature without its private -opinions? - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -Dime; no ves aquel caballero que hacia nosotros viene sobre un -caballo rucio rodado que trae puesto en la cabeza un yelmo de oro? Lo -que veo y columbro, respondio Sancho, no es sino un hombre sobre un -as no pardo como el mio, que trae sobre la cabeza una cosa que -relumbra. Pues ese es el yelmo de Mambrino, dijo Don -Quijote.CERVANTES. - - -Seest thou not yon cavalier who cometh toward us on a dapple-gray -steed, and weareth a golden helmet? What I see, answered Sancho, is -nothing but a man on a gray ass like my own, who carries something -shiny on his head. Just so, answered Don Quixote: and that -resplendent object is the helmet of Mambrino. - - -Sir Humphry Davy? said Mr. Brooke, over the soup, in his easy smiling -way, taking up Sir James Chettams remark that he was studying Davys -Agricultural Chemistry. Well, now, Sir Humphry Davy; I dined with him -years ago at Cartwrights, and Wordsworth was there toothe poet -Wordsworth, you know. Now there was something singular. I was at -Cambridge when Wordsworth was there, and I never met himand I dined -with him twenty years afterwards at Cartwrights. Theres an oddity in -things, now. But Davy was there: he was a poet too. Or, as I may say, -Wordsworth was poet one, and Davy was poet two. That was true in every -sense, you know. - -Dorothea felt a little more uneasy than usual. In the beginning of -dinner, the party being small and the room still, these motes from the -mass of a magistrates mind fell too noticeably. She wondered how a man -like Mr. Casaubon would support such triviality. His manners, she -thought, were very dignified; the set of his iron-gray hair and his -deep eye-sockets made him resemble the portrait of Locke. He had the -spare form and the pale complexion which became a student; as different -as possible from the blooming Englishman of the red-whiskered type -represented by Sir James Chettam. - -I am reading the Agricultural Chemistry, said this excellent baronet, -because I am going to take one of the farms into my own hands, and see -if something cannot be done in setting a good pattern of farming among -my tenants. Do you approve of that, Miss Brooke? - -A great mistake, Chettam, interposed Mr. Brooke, going into -electrifying your land and that kind of thing, and making a parlor of -your cow-house. It wont do. I went into science a great deal myself at -one time; but I saw it would not do. It leads to everything; you can -let nothing alone. No, nosee that your tenants dont sell their straw, -and that kind of thing; and give them draining-tiles, you know. But -your fancy farming will not dothe most expensive sort of whistle you -can buy: you may as well keep a pack of hounds. - -Surely, said Dorothea, it is better to spend money in finding out -how men can make the most of the land which supports them all, than in -keeping dogs and horses only to gallop over it. It is not a sin to make -yourself poor in performing experiments for the good of all. - -She spoke with more energy than is expected of so young a lady, but Sir -James had appealed to her. He was accustomed to do so, and she had -often thought that she could urge him to many good actions when he was -her brother-in-law. - -Mr. Casaubon turned his eyes very markedly on Dorothea while she was -speaking, and seemed to observe her newly. - -Young ladies dont understand political economy, you know, said Mr. -Brooke, smiling towards Mr. Casaubon. I remember when we were all -reading Adam Smith. _There_ is a book, now. I took in all the new ideas -at one timehuman perfectibility, now. But some say, history moves in -circles; and that may be very well argued; I have argued it myself. The -fact is, human reason may carry you a little too farover the hedge, in -fact. It carried me a good way at one time; but I saw it would not do. -I pulled up; I pulled up in time. But not too hard. I have always been -in favor of a little theory: we must have Thought; else we shall be -landed back in the dark ages. But talking of books, there is Southeys -Peninsular War. I am reading that of a morning. You know Southey? - -No, said Mr. Casaubon, not keeping pace with Mr. Brookes impetuous -reason, and thinking of the book only. I have little leisure for such -literature just now. I have been using up my eyesight on old characters -lately; the fact is, I want a reader for my evenings; but I am -fastidious in voices, and I cannot endure listening to an imperfect -reader. It is a misfortune, in some senses: I feed too much on the -inward sources; I live too much with the dead. My mind is something -like the ghost of an ancient, wandering about the world and trying -mentally to construct it as it used to be, in spite of ruin and -confusing changes. But I find it necessary to use the utmost caution -about my eyesight. - -This was the first time that Mr. Casaubon had spoken at any length. He -delivered himself with precision, as if he had been called upon to make -a public statement; and the balanced sing-song neatness of his speech, -occasionally corresponded to by a movement of his head, was the more -conspicuous from its contrast with good Mr. Brookes scrappy -slovenliness. Dorothea said to herself that Mr. Casaubon was the most -interesting man she had ever seen, not excepting even Monsieur Liret, -the Vaudois clergyman who had given conferences on the history of the -Waldenses. To reconstruct a past world, doubtless with a view to the -highest purposes of truthwhat a work to be in any way present at, to -assist in, though only as a lamp-holder! This elevating thought lifted -her above her annoyance at being twitted with her ignorance of -political economy, that never-explained science which was thrust as an -extinguisher over all her lights. - -But you are fond of riding, Miss Brooke, Sir James presently took an -opportunity of saying. I should have thought you would enter a little -into the pleasures of hunting. I wish you would let me send over a -chestnut horse for you to try. It has been trained for a lady. I saw -you on Saturday cantering over the hill on a nag not worthy of you. My -groom shall bring Corydon for you every day, if you will only mention -the time. - -Thank you, you are very good. I mean to give up riding. I shall not -ride any more, said Dorothea, urged to this brusque resolution by a -little annoyance that Sir James would be soliciting her attention when -she wanted to give it all to Mr. Casaubon. - -No, that is too hard, said Sir James, in a tone of reproach that -showed strong interest. Your sister is given to self-mortification, is -she not? he continued, turning to Celia, who sat at his right hand. - -I think she is, said Celia, feeling afraid lest she should say -something that would not please her sister, and blushing as prettily as -possible above her necklace. She likes giving up. - -If that were true, Celia, my giving-up would be self-indulgence, not -self-mortification. But there may be good reasons for choosing not to -do what is very agreeable, said Dorothea. - -Mr. Brooke was speaking at the same time, but it was evident that Mr. -Casaubon was observing Dorothea, and she was aware of it. - -Exactly, said Sir James. You give up from some high, generous -motive. - -No, indeed, not exactly. I did not say that of myself, answered -Dorothea, reddening. Unlike Celia, she rarely blushed, and only from -high delight or anger. At this moment she felt angry with the perverse -Sir James. Why did he not pay attention to Celia, and leave her to -listen to Mr. Casaubon?if that learned man would only talk, instead of -allowing himself to be talked to by Mr. Brooke, who was just then -informing him that the Reformation either meant something or it did -not, that he himself was a Protestant to the core, but that Catholicism -was a fact; and as to refusing an acre of your ground for a Romanist -chapel, all men needed the bridle of religion, which, properly -speaking, was the dread of a Hereafter. - -I made a great study of theology at one time, said Mr. Brooke, as if -to explain the insight just manifested. I know something of all -schools. I knew Wilberforce in his best days. Do you know Wilberforce? - -Mr. Casaubon said, No. - -Well, Wilberforce was perhaps not enough of a thinker; but if I went -into Parliament, as I have been asked to do, I should sit on the -independent bench, as Wilberforce did, and work at philanthropy. - -Mr. Casaubon bowed, and observed that it was a wide field. - -Yes, said Mr. Brooke, with an easy smile, but I have documents. I -began a long while ago to collect documents. They want arranging, but -when a question has struck me, I have written to somebody and got an -answer. I have documents at my back. But now, how do you arrange your -documents? - -In pigeon-holes partly, said Mr. Casaubon, with rather a startled air -of effort. - -Ah, pigeon-holes will not do. I have tried pigeon-holes, but -everything gets mixed in pigeon-holes: I never know whether a paper is -in A or Z. - -I wish you would let me sort your papers for you, uncle, said -Dorothea. I would letter them all, and then make a list of subjects -under each letter. - -Mr. Casaubon gravely smiled approval, and said to Mr. Brooke, You have -an excellent secretary at hand, you perceive. - -No, no, said Mr. Brooke, shaking his head; I cannot let young ladies -meddle with my documents. Young ladies are too flighty. - -Dorothea felt hurt. Mr. Casaubon would think that her uncle had some -special reason for delivering this opinion, whereas the remark lay in -his mind as lightly as the broken wing of an insect among all the other -fragments there, and a chance current had sent it alighting on _her_. - -When the two girls were in the drawing-room alone, Celia said - -How very ugly Mr. Casaubon is! - -Celia! He is one of the most distinguished-looking men I ever saw. He -is remarkably like the portrait of Locke. He has the same deep -eye-sockets. - -Had Locke those two white moles with hairs on them? - -Oh, I dare say! when people of a certain sort looked at him, said -Dorothea, walking away a little. - -Mr. Casaubon is so sallow. - -All the better. I suppose you admire a man with the complexion of a -_cochon de lait_. - -Dodo! exclaimed Celia, looking after her in surprise. I never heard -you make such a comparison before. - -Why should I make it before the occasion came? It is a good -comparison: the match is perfect. - -Miss Brooke was clearly forgetting herself, and Celia thought so. - -I wonder you show temper, Dorothea. - -It is so painful in you, Celia, that you will look at human beings as -if they were merely animals with a toilet, and never see the great soul -in a mans face. - -Has Mr. Casaubon a great soul? Celia was not without a touch of naive -malice. - -Yes, I believe he has, said Dorothea, with the full voice of -decision. Everything I see in him corresponds to his pamphlet on -Biblical Cosmology. - -He talks very little, said Celia - -There is no one for him to talk to. - -Celia thought privately, Dorothea quite despises Sir James Chettam; I -believe she would not accept him. Celia felt that this was a pity. She -had never been deceived as to the object of the baronets interest. -Sometimes, indeed, she had reflected that Dodo would perhaps not make a -husband happy who had not her way of looking at things; and stifled in -the depths of her heart was the feeling that her sister was too -religious for family comfort. Notions and scruples were like spilt -needles, making one afraid of treading, or sitting down, or even -eating. - -When Miss Brooke was at the tea-table, Sir James came to sit down by -her, not having felt her mode of answering him at all offensive. Why -should he? He thought it probable that Miss Brooke liked him, and -manners must be very marked indeed before they cease to be interpreted -by preconceptions either confident or distrustful. She was thoroughly -charming to him, but of course he theorized a little about his -attachment. He was made of excellent human dough, and had the rare -merit of knowing that his talents, even if let loose, would not set the -smallest stream in the county on fire: hence he liked the prospect of a -wife to whom he could say, What shall we do? about this or that; who -could help her husband out with reasons, and would also have the -property qualification for doing so. As to the excessive religiousness -alleged against Miss Brooke, he had a very indefinite notion of what it -consisted in, and thought that it would die out with marriage. In -short, he felt himself to be in love in the right place, and was ready -to endure a great deal of predominance, which, after all, a man could -always put down when he liked. Sir James had no idea that he should -ever like to put down the predominance of this handsome girl, in whose -cleverness he delighted. Why not? A mans mindwhat there is of ithas -always the advantage of being masculine,as the smallest birch-tree is -of a higher kind than the most soaring palm,and even his ignorance is -of a sounder quality. Sir James might not have originated this -estimate; but a kind Providence furnishes the limpest personality with -a little gum or starch in the form of tradition. - -Let me hope that you will rescind that resolution about the horse, -Miss Brooke, said the persevering admirer. I assure you, riding is -the most healthy of exercises. - -I am aware of it, said Dorothea, coldly. I think it would do Celia -goodif she would take to it. - -But you are such a perfect horsewoman. - -Excuse me; I have had very little practice, and I should be easily -thrown. - -Then that is a reason for more practice. Every lady ought to be a -perfect horsewoman, that she may accompany her husband. - -You see how widely we differ, Sir James. I have made up my mind that I -ought not to be a perfect horsewoman, and so I should never correspond -to your pattern of a lady. Dorothea looked straight before her, and -spoke with cold brusquerie, very much with the air of a handsome boy, -in amusing contrast with the solicitous amiability of her admirer. - -I should like to know your reasons for this cruel resolution. It is -not possible that you should think horsemanship wrong. - -It is quite possible that I should think it wrong for me. - -Oh, why? said Sir James, in a tender tone of remonstrance. - -Mr. Casaubon had come up to the table, teacup in hand, and was -listening. - -We must not inquire too curiously into motives, he interposed, in his -measured way. Miss Brooke knows that they are apt to become feeble in -the utterance: the aroma is mixed with the grosser air. We must keep -the germinating grain away from the light. - -Dorothea colored with pleasure, and looked up gratefully to the -speaker. Here was a man who could understand the higher inward life, -and with whom there could be some spiritual communion; nay, who could -illuminate principle with the widest knowledge: a man whose learning -almost amounted to a proof of whatever he believed! - -Dorotheas inferences may seem large; but really life could never have -gone on at any period but for this liberal allowance of conclusions, -which has facilitated marriage under the difficulties of civilization. -Has any one ever pinched into its pilulous smallness the cobweb of -pre-matrimonial acquaintanceship? - -Certainly, said good Sir James. Miss Brooke shall not be urged to -tell reasons she would rather be silent upon. I am sure her reasons -would do her honor. - -He was not in the least jealous of the interest with which Dorothea had -looked up at Mr. Casaubon: it never occurred to him that a girl to whom -he was meditating an offer of marriage could care for a dried bookworm -towards fifty, except, indeed, in a religious sort of way, as for a -clergyman of some distinction. - -However, since Miss Brooke had become engaged in a conversation with -Mr. Casaubon about the Vaudois clergy, Sir James betook himself to -Celia, and talked to her about her sister; spoke of a house in town, -and asked whether Miss Brooke disliked London. Away from her sister, -Celia talked quite easily, and Sir James said to himself that the -second Miss Brooke was certainly very agreeable as well as pretty, -though not, as some people pretended, more clever and sensible than the -elder sister. He felt that he had chosen the one who was in all -respects the superior; and a man naturally likes to look forward to -having the best. He would be the very Mawworm of bachelors who -pretended not to expect it. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -Say, goddess, what ensued, when Raphael, -The affable archangel . . . - Eve -The story heard attentive, and was filled -With admiration, and deep muse, to hear -Of things so high and strange. -_Paradise Lost_, B. vii. - - -If it had really occurred to Mr. Casaubon to think of Miss Brooke as a -suitable wife for him, the reasons that might induce her to accept him -were already planted in her mind, and by the evening of the next day -the reasons had budded and bloomed. For they had had a long -conversation in the morning, while Celia, who did not like the company -of Mr. Casaubons moles and sallowness, had escaped to the vicarage to -play with the curates ill-shod but merry children. - -Dorothea by this time had looked deep into the ungauged reservoir of -Mr. Casaubons mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine -extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her own -experience to him, and had understood from him the scope of his great -work, also of attractively labyrinthine extent. For he had been as -instructive as Miltons affable archangel; and with something of the -archangelic manner he told her how he had undertaken to show (what -indeed had been attempted before, but not with that thoroughness, -justice of comparison, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. -Casaubon aimed) that all the mythical systems or erratic mythical -fragments in the world were corruptions of a tradition originally -revealed. Having once mastered the true position and taken a firm -footing there, the vast field of mythical constructions became -intelligible, nay, luminous with the reflected light of -correspondences. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no -light or speedy work. His notes already made a formidable range of -volumes, but the crowning task would be to condense these voluminous -still-accumulating results and bring them, like the earlier vintage of -Hippocratic books, to fit a little shelf. In explaining this to -Dorothea, Mr. Casaubon expressed himself nearly as he would have done -to a fellow-student, for he had not two styles of talking at command: -it is true that when he used a Greek or Latin phrase he always gave the -English with scrupulous care, but he would probably have done this in -any case. A learned provincial clergyman is accustomed to think of his -acquaintances as of lords, knyghtes, and other noble and worthi men, -that conne Latyn but lytille. - -Dorothea was altogether captivated by the wide embrace of this -conception. Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies school -literature: here was a living Bossuet, whose work would reconcile -complete knowledge with devoted piety; here was a modern Augustine who -united the glories of doctor and saint. - -The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the learning, for when -Dorothea was impelled to open her mind on certain themes which she -could speak of to no one whom she had before seen at Tipton, especially -on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of -belief compared with that spiritual religion, that submergence of self -in communion with Divine perfection which seemed to her to be expressed -in the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she found in Mr. -Casaubon a listener who understood her at once, who could assure her of -his own agreement with that view when duly tempered with wise -conformity, and could mention historical examples before unknown to -her. - -He thinks with me, said Dorothea to herself, or rather, he thinks a -whole world of which my thought is but a poor twopenny mirror. And his -feelings too, his whole experiencewhat a lake compared with my little -pool! - -Miss Brooke argued from words and dispositions not less unhesitatingly -than other young ladies of her age. Signs are small measurable things, -but interpretations are illimitable, and in girls of sweet, ardent -nature, every sign is apt to conjure up wonder, hope, belief, vast as a -sky, and colored by a diffused thimbleful of matter in the shape of -knowledge. They are not always too grossly deceived; for Sinbad himself -may have fallen by good-luck on a true description, and wrong reasoning -sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long way -off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we now and -then arrive just where we ought to be. Because Miss Brooke was hasty in -her trust, it is not therefore clear that Mr. Casaubon was unworthy of -it. - -He stayed a little longer than he had intended, on a slight pressure of -invitation from Mr. Brooke, who offered no bait except his own -documents on machine-breaking and rick-burning. Mr. Casaubon was called -into the library to look at these in a heap, while his host picked up -first one and then the other to read aloud from in a skipping and -uncertain way, passing from one unfinished passage to another with a -Yes, now, but here! and finally pushing them all aside to open the -journal of his youthful Continental travels. - -Look herehere is all about Greece. Rhamnus, the ruins of Rhamnusyou -are a great Grecian, now. I dont know whether you have given much -study to the topography. I spent no end of time in making out these -thingsHelicon, now. Here, now!We started the next morning for -Parnassus, the double-peaked Parnassus. All this volume is about -Greece, you know, Mr. Brooke wound up, rubbing his thumb transversely -along the edges of the leaves as he held the book forward. - -Mr. Casaubon made a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in -the right place, and avoided looking at anything documentary as far as -possible, without showing disregard or impatience; mindful that this -desultoriness was associated with the institutions of the country, and -that the man who took him on this severe mental scamper was not only an -amiable host, but a landholder and custos rotulorum. Was his endurance -aided also by the reflection that Mr. Brooke was the uncle of Dorothea? - -Certainly he seemed more and more bent on making her talk to him, on -drawing her out, as Celia remarked to herself; and in looking at her -his face was often lit up by a smile like pale wintry sunshine. Before -he left the next morning, while taking a pleasant walk with Miss Brooke -along the gravelled terrace, he had mentioned to her that he felt the -disadvantage of loneliness, the need of that cheerful companionship -with which the presence of youth can lighten or vary the serious toils -of maturity. And he delivered this statement with as much careful -precision as if he had been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be -attended with results. Indeed, Mr. Casaubon was not used to expect that -he should have to repeat or revise his communications of a practical or -personal kind. The inclinations which he had deliberately stated on the -2d of October he would think it enough to refer to by the mention of -that date; judging by the standard of his own memory, which was a -volume where a vide supra could serve instead of repetitions, and not -the ordinary long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten -writing. But in this case Mr. Casaubons confidence was not likely to -be falsified, for Dorothea heard and retained what he said with the -eager interest of a fresh young nature to which every variety in -experience is an epoch. - -It was three oclock in the beautiful breezy autumn day when Mr. -Casaubon drove off to his Rectory at Lowick, only five miles from -Tipton; and Dorothea, who had on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along -the shrubbery and across the park that she might wander through the -bordering wood with no other visible companionship than that of Monk, -the Great St. Bernard dog, who always took care of the young ladies in -their walks. There had risen before her the girls vision of a possible -future for herself to which she looked forward with trembling hope, and -she wanted to wander on in that visionary future without interruption. -She walked briskly in the brisk air, the color rose in her cheeks, and -her straw bonnet (which our contemporaries might look at with -conjectural curiosity as at an obsolete form of basket) fell a little -backward. She would perhaps be hardly characterized enough if it were -omitted that she wore her brown hair flatly braided and coiled behind -so as to expose the outline of her head in a daring manner at a time -when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to be -dissimulated by tall barricades of frizzed curls and bows, never -surpassed by any great race except the Feejeean. This was a trait of -Miss Brookes asceticism. But there was nothing of an ascetics -expression in her bright full eyes, as she looked before her, not -consciously seeing, but absorbing into the intensity of her mood, the -solemn glory of the afternoon with its long swathes of light between -the far-off rows of limes, whose shadows touched each other. - -All people, young or old (that is, all people in those ante-reform -times), would have thought her an interesting object if they had -referred the glow in her eyes and cheeks to the newly awakened ordinary -images of young love: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been -sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as the pathetic loveliness of all -spontaneous trust ought to be. Miss Pippin adoring young Pumpkin, and -dreaming along endless vistas of unwearying companionship, was a little -drama which never tired our fathers and mothers, and had been put into -all costumes. Let but Pumpkin have a figure which would sustain the -disadvantages of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and everybody felt it -not only natural but necessary to the perfection of womanhood, that a -sweet girl should be at once convinced of his virtue, his exceptional -ability, and above all, his perfect sincerity. But perhaps no persons -then livingcertainly none in the neighborhood of Tiptonwould have had -a sympathetic understanding for the dreams of a girl whose notions -about marriage took their color entirely from an exalted enthusiasm -about the ends of life, an enthusiasm which was lit chiefly by its own -fire, and included neither the niceties of the trousseau, the pattern -of plate, nor even the honors and sweet joys of the blooming matron. - -It had now entered Dorotheas mind that Mr. Casaubon might wish to make -her his wife, and the idea that he would do so touched her with a sort -of reverential gratitude. How good of himnay, it would be almost as if -a winged messenger had suddenly stood beside her path and held out his -hand towards her! For a long while she had been oppressed by the -indefiniteness which hung in her mind, like a thick summer haze, over -all her desire to make her life greatly effective. What could she do, -what ought she to do?she, hardly more than a budding woman, but yet -with an active conscience and a great mental need, not to be satisfied -by a girlish instruction comparable to the nibblings and judgments of a -discursive mouse. With some endowment of stupidity and conceit, she -might have thought that a Christian young lady of fortune should find -her ideal of life in village charities, patronage of the humbler -clergy, the perusal of Female Scripture Characters, unfolding the -private experience of Sara under the Old Dispensation, and Dorcas under -the New, and the care of her soul over her embroidery in her own -boudoirwith a background of prospective marriage to a man who, if less -strict than herself, as being involved in affairs religiously -inexplicable, might be prayed for and seasonably exhorted. From such -contentment poor Dorothea was shut out. The intensity of her religious -disposition, the coercion it exercised over her life, was but one -aspect of a nature altogether ardent, theoretic, and intellectually -consequent: and with such a nature struggling in the bands of a narrow -teaching, hemmed in by a social life which seemed nothing but a -labyrinth of petty courses, a walled-in maze of small paths that led no -whither, the outcome was sure to strike others as at once exaggeration -and inconsistency. The thing which seemed to her best, she wanted to -justify by the completest knowledge; and not to live in a pretended -admission of rules which were never acted on. Into this soul-hunger as -yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her -was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own -ignorance, and give her the freedom of voluntary submission to a guide -who would take her along the grandest path. - -I should learn everything then, she said to herself, still walking -quickly along the bridle road through the wood. It would be my duty to -study that I might help him the better in his great works. There would -be nothing trivial about our lives. Every-day things with us would mean -the greatest things. It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn -to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by. And -then I should know what to do, when I got older: I should see how it -was possible to lead a grand life herenowin England. I dont feel -sure about doing good in any way now: everything seems like going on a -mission to a people whose language I dont know;unless it were -building good cottagesthere can be no doubt about that. Oh, I hope I -should be able to get the people well housed in Lowick! I will draw -plenty of plans while I have time. - -Dorothea checked herself suddenly with self-rebuke for the presumptuous -way in which she was reckoning on uncertain events, but she was spared -any inward effort to change the direction of her thoughts by the -appearance of a cantering horseman round a turning of the road. The -well-groomed chestnut horse and two beautiful setters could leave no -doubt that the rider was Sir James Chettam. He discerned Dorothea, -jumped off his horse at once, and, having delivered it to his groom, -advanced towards her with something white on his arm, at which the two -setters were barking in an excited manner. - -How delightful to meet you, Miss Brooke, he said, raising his hat and -showing his sleekly waving blond hair. It has hastened the pleasure I -was looking forward to. - -Miss Brooke was annoyed at the interruption. This amiable baronet, -really a suitable husband for Celia, exaggerated the necessity of -making himself agreeable to the elder sister. Even a prospective -brother-in-law may be an oppression if he will always be presupposing -too good an understanding with you, and agreeing with you even when you -contradict him. The thought that he had made the mistake of paying his -addresses to herself could not take shape: all her mental activity was -used up in persuasions of another kind. But he was positively obtrusive -at this moment, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable. Her -roused temper made her color deeply, as she returned his greeting with -some haughtiness. - -Sir James interpreted the heightened color in the way most gratifying -to himself, and thought he never saw Miss Brooke looking so handsome. - -I have brought a little petitioner, he said, or rather, I have -brought him to see if he will be approved before his petition is -offered. He showed the white object under his arm, which was a tiny -Maltese puppy, one of natures most naive toys. - -It is painful to me to see these creatures that are bred merely as -pets, said Dorothea, whose opinion was forming itself that very moment -(as opinions will) under the heat of irritation. - -Oh, why? said Sir James, as they walked forward. - -I believe all the petting that is given them does not make them happy. -They are too helpless: their lives are too frail. A weasel or a mouse -that gets its own living is more interesting. I like to think that the -animals about us have souls something like our own, and either carry on -their own little affairs or can be companions to us, like Monk here. -Those creatures are parasitic. - -I am so glad I know that you do not like them, said good Sir James. -I should never keep them for myself, but ladies usually are fond of -these Maltese dogs. Here, John, take this dog, will you? - -The objectionable puppy, whose nose and eyes were equally black and -expressive, was thus got rid of, since Miss Brooke decided that it had -better not have been born. But she felt it necessary to explain. - -You must not judge of Celias feeling from mine. I think she likes -these small pets. She had a tiny terrier once, which she was very fond -of. It made me unhappy, because I was afraid of treading on it. I am -rather short-sighted. - -You have your own opinion about everything, Miss Brooke, and it is -always a good opinion. - -What answer was possible to such stupid complimenting? - -Do you know, I envy you that, Sir James said, as they continued -walking at the rather brisk pace set by Dorothea. - -I dont quite understand what you mean. - -Your power of forming an opinion. I can form an opinion of persons. I -know when I like people. But about other matters, do you know, I have -often a difficulty in deciding. One hears very sensible things said on -opposite sides. - -Or that seem sensible. Perhaps we dont always discriminate between -sense and nonsense. - -Dorothea felt that she was rather rude. - -Exactly, said Sir James. But you seem to have the power of -discrimination. - -On the contrary, I am often unable to decide. But that is from -ignorance. The right conclusion is there all the same, though I am -unable to see it. - -I think there are few who would see it more readily. Do you know, -Lovegood was telling me yesterday that you had the best notion in the -world of a plan for cottagesquite wonderful for a young lady, he -thought. You had a real _genus_, to use his expression. He said you -wanted Mr. Brooke to build a new set of cottages, but he seemed to -think it hardly probable that your uncle would consent. Do you know, -that is one of the things I wish to doI mean, on my own estate. I -should be so glad to carry out that plan of yours, if you would let me -see it. Of course, it is sinking money; that is why people object to -it. Laborers can never pay rent to make it answer. But, after all, it -is worth doing. - -Worth doing! yes, indeed, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting -her previous small vexations. I think we deserve to be beaten out of -our beautiful houses with a scourge of small cordsall of us who let -tenants live in such sties as we see round us. Life in cottages might -be happier than ours, if they were real houses fit for human beings -from whom we expect duties and affections. - -Will you show me your plan? - -Yes, certainly. I dare say it is very faulty. But I have been -examining all the plans for cottages in Loudons book, and picked out -what seem the best things. Oh what a happiness it would be to set the -pattern about here! I think instead of Lazarus at the gate, we should -put the pigsty cottages outside the park-gate. - -Dorothea was in the best temper now. Sir James, as brother in-law, -building model cottages on his estate, and then, perhaps, others being -built at Lowick, and more and more elsewhere in imitationit would be -as if the spirit of Oberlin had passed over the parishes to make the -life of poverty beautiful! - -Sir James saw all the plans, and took one away to consult upon with -Lovegood. He also took away a complacent sense that he was making great -progress in Miss Brookes good opinion. The Maltese puppy was not -offered to Celia; an omission which Dorothea afterwards thought of with -surprise; but she blamed herself for it. She had been engrossing Sir -James. After all, it was a relief that there was no puppy to tread -upon. - -Celia was present while the plans were being examined, and observed Sir -Jamess illusion. He thinks that Dodo cares about him, and she only -cares about her plans. Yet I am not certain that she would refuse him -if she thought he would let her manage everything and carry out all her -notions. And how very uncomfortable Sir James would be! I cannot bear -notions. - -It was Celias private luxury to indulge in this dislike. She dared not -confess it to her sister in any direct statement, for that would be -laying herself open to a demonstration that she was somehow or other at -war with all goodness. But on safe opportunities, she had an indirect -mode of making her negative wisdom tell upon Dorothea, and calling her -down from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that people were staring, -not listening. Celia was not impulsive: what she had to say could wait, -and came from her always with the same quiet staccato evenness. When -people talked with energy and emphasis she watched their faces and -features merely. She never could understand how well-bred persons -consented to sing and open their mouths in the ridiculous manner -requisite for that vocal exercise. - -It was not many days before Mr. Casaubon paid a morning visit, on which -he was invited again for the following week to dine and stay the night. -Thus Dorothea had three more conversations with him, and was convinced -that her first impressions had been just. He was all she had at first -imagined him to be: almost everything he had said seemed like a -specimen from a mine, or the inscription on the door of a museum which -might open on the treasures of past ages; and this trust in his mental -wealth was all the deeper and more effective on her inclination because -it was now obvious that his visits were made for her sake. This -accomplished man condescended to think of a young girl, and take the -pains to talk to her, not with absurd compliment, but with an appeal to -her understanding, and sometimes with instructive correction. What -delightful companionship! Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that -trivialities existed, and never handed round that small-talk of heavy -men which is as acceptable as stale bride-cake brought forth with an -odor of cupboard. He talked of what he was interested in, or else he -was silent and bowed with sad civility. To Dorothea this was adorable -genuineness, and religious abstinence from that artificiality which -uses up the soul in the efforts of pretence. For she looked as -reverently at Mr. Casaubons religious elevation above herself as she -did at his intellect and learning. He assented to her expressions of -devout feeling, and usually with an appropriate quotation; he allowed -himself to say that he had gone through some spiritual conflicts in his -youth; in short, Dorothea saw that here she might reckon on -understanding, sympathy, and guidance. On oneonly oneof her favorite -themes she was disappointed. Mr. Casaubon apparently did not care about -building cottages, and diverted the talk to the extremely narrow -accommodation which was to be had in the dwellings of the ancient -Egyptians, as if to check a too high standard. After he was gone, -Dorothea dwelt with some agitation on this indifference of his; and her -mind was much exercised with arguments drawn from the varying -conditions of climate which modify human needs, and from the admitted -wickedness of pagan despots. Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. -Casaubon when he came again? But further reflection told her that she -was presumptuous in demanding his attention to such a subject; he would -not disapprove of her occupying herself with it in leisure moments, as -other women expected to occupy themselves with their dress and -embroiderywould not forbid it whenDorothea felt rather ashamed as she -detected herself in these speculations. But her uncle had been invited -to go to Lowick to stay a couple of days: was it reasonable to suppose -that Mr. Casaubon delighted in Mr. Brookes society for its own sake, -either with or without documents? - -Meanwhile that little disappointment made her delight the more in Sir -James Chettams readiness to set on foot the desired improvements. He -came much oftener than Mr. Casaubon, and Dorothea ceased to find him -disagreeable since he showed himself so entirely in earnest; for he had -already entered with much practical ability into Lovegoods estimates, -and was charmingly docile. She proposed to build a couple of cottages, -and transfer two families from their old cabins, which could then be -pulled down, so that new ones could be built on the old sites. Sir -James said Exactly, and she bore the word remarkably well. - -Certainly these men who had so few spontaneous ideas might be very -useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were -fortunate in choosing their sisters-in-law! It is difficult to say -whether there was or was not a little wilfulness in her continuing -blind to the possibility that another sort of choice was in question in -relation to her. But her life was just now full of hope and action: she -was not only thinking of her plans, but getting down learned books from -the library and reading many things hastily (that she might be a little -less ignorant in talking to Mr. Casaubon), all the while being visited -with conscientious questionings whether she were not exalting these -poor doings above measure and contemplating them with that -self-satisfaction which was the last doom of ignorance and folly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -1_st Gent_. Our deeds are fetters that we forge ourselves. - -2_d Gent._ Ay, truly: but I think it is the world -That brings the iron. - - -Sir James seems determined to do everything you wish, said Celia, as -they were driving home from an inspection of the new building-site. - -He is a good creature, and more sensible than any one would imagine, -said Dorothea, inconsiderately. - -You mean that he appears silly. - -No, no, said Dorothea, recollecting herself, and laying her hand on -her sisters a moment, but he does not talk equally well on all -subjects. - -I should think none but disagreeable people do, said Celia, in her -usual purring way. They must be very dreadful to live with. Only -think! at breakfast, and always. - -Dorothea laughed. O Kitty, you are a wonderful creature! She pinched -Celias chin, being in the mood now to think her very winning and -lovelyfit hereafter to be an eternal cherub, and if it were not -doctrinally wrong to say so, hardly more in need of salvation than a -squirrel. Of course people need not be always talking well. Only one -tells the quality of their minds when they try to talk well. - -You mean that Sir James tries and fails. - -I was speaking generally. Why do you catechise me about Sir James? It -is not the object of his life to please me. - -Now, Dodo, can you really believe that? - -Certainly. He thinks of me as a future sisterthat is all. Dorothea -had never hinted this before, waiting, from a certain shyness on such -subjects which was mutual between the sisters, until it should be -introduced by some decisive event. Celia blushed, but said at once - -Pray do not make that mistake any longer, Dodo. When Tantripp was -brushing my hair the other day, she said that Sir Jamess man knew from -Mrs. Cadwalladers maid that Sir James was to marry the eldest Miss -Brooke. - -How can you let Tantripp talk such gossip to you, Celia? said -Dorothea, indignantly, not the less angry because details asleep in her -memory were now awakened to confirm the unwelcome revelation. You must -have asked her questions. It is degrading. - -I see no harm at all in Tantripps talking to me. It is better to hear -what people say. You see what mistakes you make by taking up notions. I -am quite sure that Sir James means to make you an offer; and he -believes that you will accept him, especially since you have been so -pleased with him about the plans. And uncle tooI know he expects it. -Every one can see that Sir James is very much in love with you. - -The revulsion was so strong and painful in Dorotheas mind that the -tears welled up and flowed abundantly. All her dear plans were -embittered, and she thought with disgust of Sir Jamess conceiving that -she recognized him as her lover. There was vexation too on account of -Celia. - -How could he expect it? she burst forth in her most impetuous manner. -I have never agreed with him about anything but the cottages: I was -barely polite to him before. - -But you have been so pleased with him since then; he has begun to feel -quite sure that you are fond of him. - -Fond of him, Celia! How can you choose such odious expressions? said -Dorothea, passionately. - -Dear me, Dorothea, I suppose it would be right for you to be fond of a -man whom you accepted for a husband. - -It is offensive to me to say that Sir James could think I was fond of -him. Besides, it is not the right word for the feeling I must have -towards the man I would accept as a husband. - -Well, I am sorry for Sir James. I thought it right to tell you, -because you went on as you always do, never looking just where you are, -and treading in the wrong place. You always see what nobody else sees; -it is impossible to satisfy you; yet you never see what is quite plain. -Thats your way, Dodo. Something certainly gave Celia unusual courage; -and she was not sparing the sister of whom she was occasionally in awe. -Who can tell what just criticisms Murr the Cat may be passing on us -beings of wider speculation? - -It is very painful, said Dorothea, feeling scourged. I can have no -more to do with the cottages. I must be uncivil to him. I must tell him -I will have nothing to do with them. It is very painful. Her eyes -filled again with tears. - -Wait a little. Think about it. You know he is going away for a day or -two to see his sister. There will be nobody besides Lovegood. Celia -could not help relenting. Poor Dodo, she went on, in an amiable -staccato. It is very hard: it is your favorite _fad_ to draw plans. - -_Fad_ to draw plans! Do you think I only care about my -fellow-creatures houses in that childish way? I may well make -mistakes. How can one ever do anything nobly Christian, living among -people with such petty thoughts? - -No more was said; Dorothea was too much jarred to recover her temper -and behave so as to show that she admitted any error in herself. She -was disposed rather to accuse the intolerable narrowness and the -purblind conscience of the society around her: and Celia was no longer -the eternal cherub, but a thorn in her spirit, a pink-and-white -nullifidian, worse than any discouraging presence in the Pilgrims -Progress. The _fad_ of drawing plans! What was life worthwhat great -faith was possible when the whole effect of ones actions could be -withered up into such parched rubbish as that? When she got out of the -carriage, her cheeks were pale and her eyelids red. She was an image of -sorrow, and her uncle who met her in the hall would have been alarmed, -if Celia had not been close to her looking so pretty and composed, that -he at once concluded Dorotheas tears to have their origin in her -excessive religiousness. He had returned, during their absence, from a -journey to the county town, about a petition for the pardon of some -criminal. - -Well, my dears, he said, kindly, as they went up to kiss him, I hope -nothing disagreeable has happened while I have been away. - -No, uncle, said Celia, we have been to Freshitt to look at the -cottages. We thought you would have been at home to lunch. - -I came by Lowick to lunchyou didnt know I came by Lowick. And I have -brought a couple of pamphlets for you, Dorotheain the library, you -know; they lie on the table in the library. - -It seemed as if an electric stream went through Dorothea, thrilling her -from despair into expectation. They were pamphlets about the early -Church. The oppression of Celia, Tantripp, and Sir James was shaken -off, and she walked straight to the library. Celia went up-stairs. Mr. -Brooke was detained by a message, but when he re-entered the library, -he found Dorothea seated and already deep in one of the pamphlets which -had some marginal manuscript of Mr. Casaubons,taking it in as eagerly -as she might have taken in the scent of a fresh bouquet after a dry, -hot, dreary walk. - -She was getting away from Tipton and Freshitt, and her own sad -liability to tread in the wrong places on her way to the New Jerusalem. - -Mr. Brooke sat down in his arm-chair, stretched his legs towards the -wood-fire, which had fallen into a wondrous mass of glowing dice -between the dogs, and rubbed his hands gently, looking very mildly -towards Dorothea, but with a neutral leisurely air, as if he had -nothing particular to say. Dorothea closed her pamphlet, as soon as she -was aware of her uncles presence, and rose as if to go. Usually she -would have been interested about her uncles merciful errand on behalf -of the criminal, but her late agitation had made her absent-minded. - -I came back by Lowick, you know, said Mr. Brooke, not as if with any -intention to arrest her departure, but apparently from his usual -tendency to say what he had said before. This fundamental principle of -human speech was markedly exhibited in Mr. Brooke. I lunched there and -saw Casaubons library, and that kind of thing. Theres a sharp air, -driving. Wont you sit down, my dear? You look cold. - -Dorothea felt quite inclined to accept the invitation. Some times, when -her uncles easy way of taking things did not happen to be -exasperating, it was rather soothing. She threw off her mantle and -bonnet, and sat down opposite to him, enjoying the glow, but lifting up -her beautiful hands for a screen. They were not thin hands, or small -hands; but powerful, feminine, maternal hands. She seemed to be holding -them up in propitiation for her passionate desire to know and to think, -which in the unfriendly mediums of Tipton and Freshitt had issued in -crying and red eyelids. - -She bethought herself now of the condemned criminal. What news have -you brought about the sheep-stealer, uncle? - -What, poor Bunch?well, it seems we cant get him offhe is to be -hanged. - -Dorotheas brow took an expression of reprobation and pity. - -Hanged, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with a quiet nod. Poor Romilly! -he would have helped us. I knew Romilly. Casaubon didnt know Romilly. -He is a little buried in books, you know, Casaubon is. - -When a man has great studies and is writing a great work, he must of -course give up seeing much of the world. How can he go about making -acquaintances? - -Thats true. But a man mopes, you know. I have always been a bachelor -too, but I have that sort of disposition that I never moped; it was my -way to go about everywhere and take in everything. I never moped: but I -can see that Casaubon does, you know. He wants a companiona companion, -you know. - -It would be a great honor to any one to be his companion, said -Dorothea, energetically. - -You like him, eh? said Mr. Brooke, without showing any surprise, or -other emotion. Well, now, Ive known Casaubon ten years, ever since he -came to Lowick. But I never got anything out of himany ideas, you -know. However, he is a tiptop man and may be a bishopthat kind of -thing, you know, if Peel stays in. And he has a very high opinion of -you, my dear. - -Dorothea could not speak. - -The fact is, he has a very high opinion indeed of you. And he speaks -uncommonly welldoes Casaubon. He has deferred to me, you not being of -age. In short, I have promised to speak to you, though I told him I -thought there was not much chance. I was bound to tell him that. I -said, my niece is very young, and that kind of thing. But I didnt -think it necessary to go into everything. However, the long and the -short of it is, that he has asked my permission to make you an offer of -marriageof marriage, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with his explanatory -nod. I thought it better to tell you, my dear. - -No one could have detected any anxiety in Mr. Brookes manner, but he -did really wish to know something of his nieces mind, that, if there -were any need for advice, he might give it in time. What feeling he, as -a magistrate who had taken in so many ideas, could make room for, was -unmixedly kind. Since Dorothea did not speak immediately, he repeated, -I thought it better to tell you, my dear. - -Thank you, uncle, said Dorothea, in a clear unwavering tone. I am -very grateful to Mr. Casaubon. If he makes me an offer, I shall accept -him. I admire and honor him more than any man I ever saw. - -Mr. Brooke paused a little, and then said in a lingering low tone, Ah? - Well! He is a good match in some respects. But now, Chettam is a good -match. And our land lies together. I shall never interfere against your -wishes, my dear. People should have their own way in marriage, and that -sort of thingup to a certain point, you know. I have always said that, -up to a certain point. I wish you to marry well; and I have good reason -to believe that Chettam wishes to marry you. I mention it, you know. - -It is impossible that I should ever marry Sir James Chettam, said -Dorothea. If he thinks of marrying me, he has made a great mistake. - -That is it, you see. One never knows. I should have thought Chettam -was just the sort of man a woman would like, now. - -Pray do not mention him in that light again, uncle, said Dorothea, -feeling some of her late irritation revive. - -Mr. Brooke wondered, and felt that women were an inexhaustible subject -of study, since even he at his age was not in a perfect state of -scientific prediction about them. Here was a fellow like Chettam with -no chance at all. - -Well, but Casaubon, now. There is no hurryI mean for you. Its true, -every year will tell upon him. He is over five-and-forty, you know. I -should say a good seven-and-twenty years older than you. To be sure,if -you like learning and standing, and that sort of thing, we cant have -everything. And his income is goodhe has a handsome property -independent of the Churchhis income is good. Still he is not young, -and I must not conceal from you, my dear, that I think his health is -not over-strong. I know nothing else against him. - -I should not wish to have a husband very near my own age, said -Dorothea, with grave decision. I should wish to have a husband who was -above me in judgment and in all knowledge. - -Mr. Brooke repeated his subdued, Ah?I thought you had more of your -own opinion than most girls. I thought you liked your own opinionliked -it, you know. - -I cannot imagine myself living without some opinions, but I should -wish to have good reasons for them, and a wise man could help me to see -which opinions had the best foundation, and would help me to live -according to them. - -Very true. You couldnt put the thing bettercouldnt put it better, -beforehand, you know. But there are oddities in things, continued Mr. -Brooke, whose conscience was really roused to do the best he could for -his niece on this occasion. Life isnt cast in a mouldnot cut out by -rule and line, and that sort of thing. I never married myself, and it -will be the better for you and yours. The fact is, I never loved any -one well enough to put myself into a noose for them. It _is_ a noose, -you know. Temper, now. There is temper. And a husband likes to be -master. - -I know that I must expect trials, uncle. Marriage is a state of higher -duties. I never thought of it as mere personal ease, said poor -Dorothea. - -Well, you are not fond of show, a great establishment, balls, dinners, -that kind of thing. I can see that Casaubons ways might suit you -better than Chettams. And you shall do as you like, my dear. I would -not hinder Casaubon; I said so at once; for there is no knowing how -anything may turn out. You have not the same tastes as every young -lady; and a clergyman and scholarwho may be a bishopthat kind of -thingmay suit you better than Chettam. Chettam is a good fellow, a -good sound-hearted fellow, you know; but he doesnt go much into ideas. -I did, when I was his age. But Casaubons eyes, now. I think he has -hurt them a little with too much reading. - -I should be all the happier, uncle, the more room there was for me to -help him, said Dorothea, ardently. - -You have quite made up your mind, I see. Well, my dear, the fact is, I -have a letter for you in my pocket. Mr. Brooke handed the letter to -Dorothea, but as she rose to go away, he added, There is not too much -hurry, my dear. Think about it, you know. - -When Dorothea had left him, he reflected that he had certainly spoken -strongly: he had put the risks of marriage before her in a striking -manner. It was his duty to do so. But as to pretending to be wise for -young people,no uncle, however much he had travelled in his youth, -absorbed the new ideas, and dined with celebrities now deceased, could -pretend to judge what sort of marriage would turn out well for a young -girl who preferred Casaubon to Chettam. In short, woman was a problem -which, since Mr. Brookes mind felt blank before it, could be hardly -less complicated than the revolutions of an irregular solid. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -Hard students are commonly troubled with gowts, catarrhs, rheums, -cachexia, bradypepsia, bad eyes, stone, and collick, crudities, -oppilations, vertigo, winds, consumptions, and all such diseases as -come by over-much sitting: they are most part lean, dry, ill-colored -and all through immoderate pains and extraordinary studies. If you will -not believe the truth of this, look upon great Tostatus and Thomas -Aquinas works; and tell me whether those men took pains.BURTONS -_Anatomy of Melancholy_, P. I, s. 2. - - -This was Mr. Casaubons letter. - -MY DEAR MISS BROOKE,I have your guardians permission to address you -on a subject than which I have none more at heart. I am not, I trust, -mistaken in the recognition of some deeper correspondence than that of -date in the fact that a consciousness of need in my own life had arisen -contemporaneously with the possibility of my becoming acquainted with -you. For in the first hour of meeting you, I had an impression of your -eminent and perhaps exclusive fitness to supply that need (connected, I -may say, with such activity of the affections as even the -preoccupations of a work too special to be abdicated could not -uninterruptedly dissimulate); and each succeeding opportunity for -observation has given the impression an added depth by convincing me -more emphatically of that fitness which I had preconceived, and thus -evoking more decisively those affections to which I have but now -referred. Our conversations have, I think, made sufficiently clear to -you the tenor of my life and purposes: a tenor unsuited, I am aware, to -the commoner order of minds. But I have discerned in you an elevation -of thought and a capability of devotedness, which I had hitherto not -conceived to be compatible either with the early bloom of youth or with -those graces of sex that may be said at once to win and to confer -distinction when combined, as they notably are in you, with the mental -qualities above indicated. It was, I confess, beyond my hope to meet -with this rare combination of elements both solid and attractive, -adapted to supply aid in graver labors and to cast a charm over vacant -hours; and but for the event of my introduction to you (which, let me -again say, I trust not to be superficially coincident with -foreshadowing needs, but providentially related thereto as stages -towards the completion of a lifes plan), I should presumably have gone -on to the last without any attempt to lighten my solitariness by a -matrimonial union. - Such, my dear Miss Brooke, is the accurate statement of my - feelings; and I rely on your kind indulgence in venturing now to - ask you how far your own are of a nature to confirm my happy - presentiment. To be accepted by you as your husband and the earthly - guardian of your welfare, I should regard as the highest of - providential gifts. In return I can at least offer you an affection - hitherto unwasted, and the faithful consecration of a life which, - however short in the sequel, has no backward pages whereon, if you - choose to turn them, you will find records such as might justly - cause you either bitterness or shame. I await the expression of - your sentiments with an anxiety which it would be the part of - wisdom (were it possible) to divert by a more arduous labor than - usual. But in this order of experience I am still young, and in - looking forward to an unfavorable possibility I cannot but feel - that resignation to solitude will be more difficult after the - temporary illumination of hope. - - -In any case, I shall remain, - Yours with sincere devotion, - EDWARD CASAUBON. - - -Dorothea trembled while she read this letter; then she fell on her -knees, buried her face, and sobbed. She could not pray: under the rush -of solemn emotion in which thoughts became vague and images floated -uncertainly, she could but cast herself, with a childlike sense of -reclining, in the lap of a divine consciousness which sustained her -own. She remained in that attitude till it was time to dress for -dinner. - -How could it occur to her to examine the letter, to look at it -critically as a profession of love? Her whole soul was possessed by the -fact that a fuller life was opening before her: she was a neophyte -about to enter on a higher grade of initiation. She was going to have -room for the energies which stirred uneasily under the dimness and -pressure of her own ignorance and the petty peremptoriness of the -worlds habits. - -Now she would be able to devote herself to large yet definite duties; -now she would be allowed to live continually in the light of a mind -that she could reverence. This hope was not unmixed with the glow of -proud delightthe joyous maiden surprise that she was chosen by the man -whom her admiration had chosen. All Dorotheas passion was transfused -through a mind struggling towards an ideal life; the radiance of her -transfigured girlhood fell on the first object that came within its -level. The impetus with which inclination became resolution was -heightened by those little events of the day which had roused her -discontent with the actual conditions of her life. - -After dinner, when Celia was playing an air, with variations, a small -kind of tinkling which symbolized the aesthetic part of the young -ladies education, Dorothea went up to her room to answer Mr. -Casaubons letter. Why should she defer the answer? She wrote it over -three times, not because she wished to change the wording, but because -her hand was unusually uncertain, and she could not bear that Mr. -Casaubon should think her handwriting bad and illegible. She piqued -herself on writing a hand in which each letter was distinguishable -without any large range of conjecture, and she meant to make much use -of this accomplishment, to save Mr. Casaubons eyes. Three times she -wrote. - -MY DEAR MR. CASAUBON,I am very grateful to you for loving me, and -thinking me worthy to be your wife. I can look forward to no better -happiness than that which would be one with yours. If I said more, it -would only be the same thing written out at greater length, for I -cannot now dwell on any other thought than that I may be through life - - -Yours devotedly, - DOROTHEA BROOKE. - - -Later in the evening she followed her uncle into the library to give -him the letter, that he might send it in the morning. He was surprised, -but his surprise only issued in a few moments silence, during which he -pushed about various objects on his writing-table, and finally stood -with his back to the fire, his glasses on his nose, looking at the -address of Dorotheas letter. - -Have you thought enough about this, my dear? he said at last. - -There was no need to think long, uncle. I know of nothing to make me -vacillate. If I changed my mind, it must be because of something -important and entirely new to me. - -Ah!then you have accepted him? Then Chettam has no chance? Has -Chettam offended youoffended you, you know? What is it you dont like -in Chettam? - -There is nothing that I like in him, said Dorothea, rather -impetuously. - -Mr. Brooke threw his head and shoulders backward as if some one had -thrown a light missile at him. Dorothea immediately felt some -self-rebuke, and said - -I mean in the light of a husband. He is very kind, I thinkreally very -good about the cottages. A well-meaning man. - -But you must have a scholar, and that sort of thing? Well, it lies a -little in our family. I had it myselfthat love of knowledge, and going -into everythinga little too muchit took me too far; though that sort -of thing doesnt often run in the female-line; or it runs underground -like the rivers in Greece, you knowit comes out in the sons. Clever -sons, clever mothers. I went a good deal into that, at one time. -However, my dear, I have always said that people should do as they like -in these things, up to a certain point. I couldnt, as your guardian, -have consented to a bad match. But Casaubon stands well: his position -is good. I am afraid Chettam will be hurt, though, and Mrs. Cadwallader -will blame me. - -That evening, of course, Celia knew nothing of what had happened. She -attributed Dorotheas abstracted manner, and the evidence of further -crying since they had got home, to the temper she had been in about Sir -James Chettam and the buildings, and was careful not to give further -offence: having once said what she wanted to say, Celia had no -disposition to recur to disagreeable subjects. It had been her nature -when a child never to quarrel with any oneonly to observe with wonder -that they quarrelled with her, and looked like turkey-cocks; whereupon -she was ready to play at cats cradle with them whenever they recovered -themselves. And as to Dorothea, it had always been her way to find -something wrong in her sisters words, though Celia inwardly protested -that she always said just how things were, and nothing else: she never -did and never could put words together out of her own head. But the -best of Dodo was, that she did not keep angry for long together. Now, -though they had hardly spoken to each other all the evening, yet when -Celia put by her work, intending to go to bed, a proceeding in which -she was always much the earlier, Dorothea, who was seated on a low -stool, unable to occupy herself except in meditation, said, with the -musical intonation which in moments of deep but quiet feeling made her -speech like a fine bit of recitative - -Celia, dear, come and kiss me, holding her arms open as she spoke. - -Celia knelt down to get the right level and gave her little butterfly -kiss, while Dorothea encircled her with gentle arms and pressed her -lips gravely on each cheek in turn. - -Dont sit up, Dodo, you are so pale to-night: go to bed soon, said -Celia, in a comfortable way, without any touch of pathos. - -No, dear, I am very, very happy, said Dorothea, fervently. - -So much the better, thought Celia. But how strangely Dodo goes from -one extreme to the other. - -The next day, at luncheon, the butler, handing something to Mr. Brooke, -said, Jonas is come back, sir, and has brought this letter. - -Mr. Brooke read the letter, and then, nodding toward Dorothea, said, -Casaubon, my dear: he will be here to dinner; he didnt wait to write -moredidnt wait, you know. - -It could not seem remarkable to Celia that a dinner guest should be -announced to her sister beforehand, but, her eyes following the same -direction as her uncles, she was struck with the peculiar effect of -the announcement on Dorothea. It seemed as if something like the -reflection of a white sunlit wing had passed across her features, -ending in one of her rare blushes. For the first time it entered into -Celias mind that there might be something more between Mr. Casaubon -and her sister than his delight in bookish talk and her delight in -listening. Hitherto she had classed the admiration for this ugly and -learned acquaintance with the admiration for Monsieur Liret at -Lausanne, also ugly and learned. Dorothea had never been tired of -listening to old Monsieur Liret when Celias feet were as cold as -possible, and when it had really become dreadful to see the skin of his -bald head moving about. Why then should her enthusiasm not extend to -Mr. Casaubon simply in the same way as to Monsieur Liret? And it seemed -probable that all learned men had a sort of schoolmasters view of -young people. - -But now Celia was really startled at the suspicion which had darted -into her mind. She was seldom taken by surprise in this way, her -marvellous quickness in observing a certain order of signs generally -preparing her to expect such outward events as she had an interest in. -Not that she now imagined Mr. Casaubon to be already an accepted lover: -she had only begun to feel disgust at the possibility that anything in -Dorotheas mind could tend towards such an issue. Here was something -really to vex her about Dodo: it was all very well not to accept Sir -James Chettam, but the idea of marrying Mr. Casaubon! Celia felt a sort -of shame mingled with a sense of the ludicrous. But perhaps Dodo, if -she were really bordering on such an extravagance, might be turned away -from it: experience had often shown that her impressibility might be -calculated on. The day was damp, and they were not going to walk out, -so they both went up to their sitting-room; and there Celia observed -that Dorothea, instead of settling down with her usual diligent -interest to some occupation, simply leaned her elbow on an open book -and looked out of the window at the great cedar silvered with the damp. -She herself had taken up the making of a toy for the curates children, -and was not going to enter on any subject too precipitately. - -Dorothea was in fact thinking that it was desirable for Celia to know -of the momentous change in Mr. Casaubons position since he had last -been in the house: it did not seem fair to leave her in ignorance of -what would necessarily affect her attitude towards him; but it was -impossible not to shrink from telling her. Dorothea accused herself of -some meanness in this timidity: it was always odious to her to have any -small fears or contrivances about her actions, but at this moment she -was seeking the highest aid possible that she might not dread the -corrosiveness of Celias pretty carnally minded prose. Her reverie was -broken, and the difficulty of decision banished, by Celias small and -rather guttural voice speaking in its usual tone, of a remark aside or -a by the bye. - -Is any one else coming to dine besides Mr. Casaubon? - -Not that I know of. - -I hope there is some one else. Then I shall not hear him eat his soup -so. - -What is there remarkable about his soup-eating? - -Really, Dodo, cant you hear how he scrapes his spoon? And he always -blinks before he speaks. I dont know whether Locke blinked, but Im -sure I am sorry for those who sat opposite to him if he did. - -Celia, said Dorothea, with emphatic gravity, pray dont make any -more observations of that kind. - -Why not? They are quite true, returned Celia, who had her reasons for -persevering, though she was beginning to be a little afraid. - -Many things are true which only the commonest minds observe. - -Then I think the commonest minds must be rather useful. I think it is -a pity Mr. Casaubons mother had not a commoner mind: she might have -taught him better. Celia was inwardly frightened, and ready to run -away, now she had hurled this light javelin. - -Dorotheas feelings had gathered to an avalanche, and there could be no -further preparation. - -It is right to tell you, Celia, that I am engaged to marry Mr. -Casaubon. - -Perhaps Celia had never turned so pale before. The paper man she was -making would have had his leg injured, but for her habitual care of -whatever she held in her hands. She laid the fragile figure down at -once, and sat perfectly still for a few moments. When she spoke there -was a tear gathering. - -Oh, Dodo, I hope you will be happy. Her sisterly tenderness could not -but surmount other feelings at this moment, and her fears were the -fears of affection. - -Dorothea was still hurt and agitated. - -It is quite decided, then? said Celia, in an awed under tone. And -uncle knows? - -I have accepted Mr. Casaubons offer. My uncle brought me the letter -that contained it; he knew about it beforehand. - -I beg your pardon, if I have said anything to hurt you, Dodo, said -Celia, with a slight sob. She never could have thought that she should -feel as she did. There was something funereal in the whole affair, and -Mr. Casaubon seemed to be the officiating clergyman, about whom it -would be indecent to make remarks. - -Never mind, Kitty, do not grieve. We should never admire the same -people. I often offend in something of the same way; I am apt to speak -too strongly of those who dont please me. - -In spite of this magnanimity Dorothea was still smarting: perhaps as -much from Celias subdued astonishment as from her small criticisms. Of -course all the world round Tipton would be out of sympathy with this -marriage. Dorothea knew of no one who thought as she did about life and -its best objects. - -Nevertheless before the evening was at an end she was very happy. In an -hours _tte--tte_ with Mr. Casaubon she talked to him with more -freedom than she had ever felt before, even pouring out her joy at the -thought of devoting herself to him, and of learning how she might best -share and further all his great ends. Mr. Casaubon was touched with an -unknown delight (what man would not have been?) at this childlike -unrestrained ardor: he was not surprised (what lover would have been?) -that he should be the object of it. - -My dear young ladyMiss BrookeDorothea! he said, pressing her hand -between his hands, this is a happiness greater than I had ever -imagined to be in reserve for me. That I should ever meet with a mind -and person so rich in the mingled graces which could render marriage -desirable, was far indeed from my conception. You have allnay, more -than allthose qualities which I have ever regarded as the -characteristic excellences of womanhood. The great charm of your sex is -its capability of an ardent self-sacrificing affection, and herein we -see its fitness to round and complete the existence of our own. -Hitherto I have known few pleasures save of the severer kind: my -satisfactions have been those of the solitary student. I have been -little disposed to gather flowers that would wither in my hand, but now -I shall pluck them with eagerness, to place them in your bosom. - -No speech could have been more thoroughly honest in its intention: the -frigid rhetoric at the end was as sincere as the bark of a dog, or the -cawing of an amorous rook. Would it not be rash to conclude that there -was no passion behind those sonnets to Delia which strike us as the -thin music of a mandolin? - -Dorotheas faith supplied all that Mr. Casaubons words seemed to leave -unsaid: what believer sees a disturbing omission or infelicity? The -text, whether of prophet or of poet, expands for whatever we can put -into it, and even his bad grammar is sublime. - -I am very ignorantyou will quite wonder at my ignorance, said -Dorothea. I have so many thoughts that may be quite mistaken; and now -I shall be able to tell them all to you, and ask you about them. But, -she added, with rapid imagination of Mr. Casaubons probable feeling, -I will not trouble you too much; only when you are inclined to listen -to me. You must often be weary with the pursuit of subjects in your own -track. I shall gain enough if you will take me with you there. - -How should I be able now to persevere in any path without your -companionship? said Mr. Casaubon, kissing her candid brow, and feeling -that heaven had vouchsafed him a blessing in every way suited to his -peculiar wants. He was being unconsciously wrought upon by the charms -of a nature which was entirely without hidden calculations either for -immediate effects or for remoter ends. It was this which made Dorothea -so childlike, and, according to some judges, so stupid, with all her -reputed cleverness; as, for example, in the present case of throwing -herself, metaphorically speaking, at Mr. Casaubons feet, and kissing -his unfashionable shoe-ties as if he were a Protestant Pope. She was -not in the least teaching Mr. Casaubon to ask if he were good enough -for her, but merely asking herself anxiously how she could be good -enough for Mr. Casaubon. Before he left the next day it had been -decided that the marriage should take place within six weeks. Why not? -Mr. Casaubons house was ready. It was not a parsonage, but a -considerable mansion, with much land attached to it. The parsonage was -inhabited by the curate, who did all the duty except preaching the -morning sermon. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -My ladys tongue is like the meadow blades, -That cut you stroking them with idle hand. -Nice cutting is her function: she divides -With spiritual edge the millet-seed, -And makes intangible savings. - - -As Mr. Casaubons carriage was passing out of the gateway, it arrested -the entrance of a pony phaeton driven by a lady with a servant seated -behind. It was doubtful whether the recognition had been mutual, for -Mr. Casaubon was looking absently before him; but the lady was -quick-eyed, and threw a nod and a How do you do? in the nick of time. -In spite of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, it was plain -that the lodge-keeper regarded her as an important personage, from the -low curtsy which was dropped on the entrance of the small phaeton. - -Well, Mrs. Fitchett, how are your fowls laying now? said the -high-colored, dark-eyed lady, with the clearest chiselled utterance. - -Pretty well for laying, madam, but theyve taen to eating their eggs: -Ive no peace o mind with em at all. - -Oh, the cannibals! Better sell them cheap at once. What will you sell -them a couple? One cant eat fowls of a bad character at a high price. - -Well, madam, half-a-crown: I couldnt let em go, not under. - -Half-a-crown, these times! Come nowfor the Rectors chicken-broth on -a Sunday. He has consumed all ours that I can spare. You are half paid -with the sermon, Mrs. Fitchett, remember that. Take a pair of -tumbler-pigeons for themlittle beauties. You must come and see them. -You have no tumblers among your pigeons. - -Well, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and see em after work. Hes -very hot on new sorts; to oblige you. - -Oblige me! It will be the best bargain he ever made. A pair of church -pigeons for a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own eggs! -Dont you and Fitchett boast too much, that is all! - -The phaeton was driven onwards with the last words, leaving Mrs. -Fitchett laughing and shaking her head slowly, with an interjectional -Sure_ly_, sure_ly_!from which it might be inferred that she would -have found the country-side somewhat duller if the Rectors lady had -been less free-spoken and less of a skinflint. Indeed, both the farmers -and laborers in the parishes of Freshitt and Tipton would have felt a -sad lack of conversation but for the stories about what Mrs. -Cadwallader said and did: a lady of immeasurably high birth, descended, -as it were, from unknown earls, dim as the crowd of heroic shadeswho -pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and cut jokes in the most -companionable manner, though with a turn of tongue that let you know -who she was. Such a lady gave a neighborliness to both rank and -religion, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe. A much more -exemplary character with an infusion of sour dignity would not have -furthered their comprehension of the Thirty-nine Articles, and would -have been less socially uniting. - -Mr. Brooke, seeing Mrs. Cadwalladers merits from a different point of -view, winced a little when her name was announced in the library, where -he was sitting alone. - -I see you have had our Lowick Cicero here, she said, seating herself -comfortably, throwing back her wraps, and showing a thin but well-built -figure. I suspect you and he are brewing some bad polities, else you -would not be seeing so much of the lively man. I shall inform against -you: remember you are both suspicious characters since you took Peels -side about the Catholic Bill. I shall tell everybody that you are going -to put up for Middlemarch on the Whig side when old Pinkerton resigns, -and that Casaubon is going to help you in an underhand manner: going to -bribe the voters with pamphlets, and throw open the public-houses to -distribute them. Come, confess! - -Nothing of the sort, said Mr. Brooke, smiling and rubbing his -eye-glasses, but really blushing a little at the impeachment. Casaubon -and I dont talk politics much. He doesnt care much about the -philanthropic side of things; punishments, and that kind of thing. He -only cares about Church questions. That is not my line of action, you -know. - -Ra-a-ther too much, my friend. I have heard of your doings. Who was it -that sold his bit of land to the Papists at Middlemarch? I believe you -bought it on purpose. You are a perfect Guy Faux. See if you are not -burnt in effigy this 5th of November coming. Humphrey would not come to -quarrel with you about it, so I am come. - -Very good. I was prepared to be persecuted for not persecutingnot -persecuting, you know. - -There you go! That is a piece of clap-trap you have got ready for the -hustings. Now, _do not_ let them lure you to the hustings, my dear Mr. -Brooke. A man always makes a fool of himself, speechifying: theres no -excuse but being on the right side, so that you can ask a blessing on -your humming and hawing. You will lose yourself, I forewarn you. You -will make a Saturday pie of all parties opinions, and be pelted by -everybody. - -That is what I expect, you know, said Mr. Brooke, not wishing to -betray how little he enjoyed this prophetic sketchwhat I expect as an -independent man. As to the Whigs, a man who goes with the thinkers is -not likely to be hooked on by any party. He may go with them up to a -certain pointup to a certain point, you know. But that is what you -ladies never understand. - -Where your certain point is? No. I should like to be told how a man -can have any certain point when he belongs to no partyleading a roving -life, and never letting his friends know his address. Nobody knows -where Brooke will betheres no counting on Brookethat is what people -say of you, to be quite frank. Now, do turn respectable. How will you -like going to Sessions with everybody looking shy on you, and you with -a bad conscience and an empty pocket? - -I dont pretend to argue with a lady on politics, said Mr. Brooke, -with an air of smiling indifference, but feeling rather unpleasantly -conscious that this attack of Mrs. Cadwalladers had opened the -defensive campaign to which certain rash steps had exposed him. Your -sex are not thinkers, you know_varium et mutabile semper_that kind of -thing. You dont know Virgil. I knewMr. Brooke reflected in time that -he had not had the personal acquaintance of the Augustan poetI was -going to say, poor Stoddart, you know. That was what _he_ said. You -ladies are always against an independent attitudea mans caring for -nothing but truth, and that sort of thing. And there is no part of the -county where opinion is narrower than it is hereI dont mean to throw -stones, you know, but somebody is wanted to take the independent line; -and if I dont take it, who will? - -Who? Why, any upstart who has got neither blood nor position. People -of standing should consume their independent nonsense at home, not hawk -it about. And you! who are going to marry your niece, as good as your -daughter, to one of our best men. Sir James would be cruelly annoyed: -it will be too hard on him if you turn round now and make yourself a -Whig sign-board. - -Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for Dorotheas engagement had no -sooner been decided, than he had thought of Mrs. Cadwalladers -prospective taunts. It might have been easy for ignorant observers to -say, Quarrel with Mrs. Cadwallader; but where is a country gentleman -to go who quarrels with his oldest neighbors? Who could taste the fine -flavor in the name of Brooke if it were delivered casually, like wine -without a seal? Certainly a man can only be cosmopolitan up to a -certain point. - -I hope Chettam and I shall always be good friends; but I am sorry to -say there is no prospect of his marrying my niece, said Mr. Brooke, -much relieved to see through the window that Celia was coming in. - -Why not? said Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharp note of surprise. It is -hardly a fortnight since you and I were talking about it. - -My niece has chosen another suitorhas chosen him, you know. I have -had nothing to do with it. I should have preferred Chettam; and I -should have said Chettam was the man any girl would have chosen. But -there is no accounting for these things. Your sex is capricious, you -know. - -Why, whom do you mean to say that you are going to let her marry? -Mrs. Cadwalladers mind was rapidly surveying the possibilities of -choice for Dorothea. - -But here Celia entered, blooming from a walk in the garden, and the -greeting with her delivered Mr. Brooke from the necessity of answering -immediately. He got up hastily, and saying, By the way, I must speak -to Wright about the horses, shuffled quickly out of the room. - -My dear child, what is this?this about your sisters engagement? -said Mrs. Cadwallader. - -She is engaged to marry Mr. Casaubon, said Celia, resorting, as -usual, to the simplest statement of fact, and enjoying this opportunity -of speaking to the Rectors wife alone. - -This is frightful. How long has it been going on? - -I only knew of it yesterday. They are to be married in six weeks. - -Well, my dear, I wish you joy of your brother-in-law. - -I am so sorry for Dorothea. - -Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose. - -Yes; she says Mr. Casaubon has a great soul. - -With all my heart. - -Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader, I dont think it can be nice to marry a man with -a great soul. - -Well, my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now; when the -next comes and wants to marry you, dont you accept him. - -Im sure I never should. - -No; one such in a family is enough. So your sister never cared about -Sir James Chettam? What would you have said to _him_ for a -brother-in-law? - -I should have liked that very much. I am sure he would have been a -good husband. Only, Celia added, with a slight blush (she sometimes -seemed to blush as she breathed), I dont think he would have suited -Dorothea. - -Not high-flown enough? - -Dodo is very strict. She thinks so much about everything, and is so -particular about what one says. Sir James never seemed to please her. - -She must have encouraged him, I am sure. That is not very creditable. - -Please dont be angry with Dodo; she does not see things. She thought -so much about the cottages, and she was rude to Sir James sometimes; -but he is so kind, he never noticed it. - -Well, said Mrs. Cadwallader, putting on her shawl, and rising, as if -in haste, I must go straight to Sir James and break this to him. He -will have brought his mother back by this time, and I must call. Your -uncle will never tell him. We are all disappointed, my dear. Young -people should think of their families in marrying. I set a bad -examplemarried a poor clergyman, and made myself a pitiable object -among the De Bracysobliged to get my coals by stratagem, and pray to -heaven for my salad oil. However, Casaubon has money enough; I must do -him that justice. As to his blood, I suppose the family quarterings are -three cuttle-fish sable, and a commentator rampant. By the bye, before -I go, my dear, I must speak to your Mrs. Carter about pastry. I want to -send my young cook to learn of her. Poor people with four children, -like us, you know, cant afford to keep a good cook. I have no doubt -Mrs. Carter will oblige me. Sir Jamess cook is a perfect dragon. - -In less than an hour, Mrs. Cadwallader had circumvented Mrs. Carter and -driven to Freshitt Hall, which was not far from her own parsonage, her -husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curate in Tipton. - -Sir James Chettam had returned from the short journey which had kept -him absent for a couple of days, and had changed his dress, intending -to ride over to Tipton Grange. His horse was standing at the door when -Mrs. Cadwallader drove up, and he immediately appeared there himself, -whip in hand. Lady Chettam had not yet returned, but Mrs. Cadwalladers -errand could not be despatched in the presence of grooms, so she asked -to be taken into the conservatory close by, to look at the new plants; -and on coming to a contemplative stand, she said - -I have a great shock for you; I hope you are not so far gone in love -as you pretended to be. - -It was of no use protesting against Mrs. Cadwalladers way of putting -things. But Sir Jamess countenance changed a little. He felt a vague -alarm. - -I do believe Brooke is going to expose himself after all. I accused -him of meaning to stand for Middlemarch on the Liberal side, and he -looked silly and never denied ittalked about the independent line, and -the usual nonsense. - -Is that all? said Sir James, much relieved. - -Why, rejoined Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharper note, you dont mean -to say that you would like him to turn public man in that waymaking a -sort of political Cheap Jack of himself? - -He might be dissuaded, I should think. He would not like the expense. - -That is what I told him. He is vulnerable to reason therealways a few -grains of common-sense in an ounce of miserliness. Miserliness is a -capital quality to run in families; its the safe side for madness to -dip on. And there must be a little crack in the Brooke family, else we -should not see what we are to see. - -What? Brooke standing for Middlemarch? - -Worse than that. I really feel a little responsible. I always told you -Miss Brooke would be such a fine match. I knew there was a great deal -of nonsense in hera flighty sort of Methodistical stuff. But these -things wear out of girls. However, I am taken by surprise for once. - -What do you mean, Mrs. Cadwallader? said Sir James. His fear lest -Miss Brooke should have run away to join the Moravian Brethren, or some -preposterous sect unknown to good society, was a little allayed by the -knowledge that Mrs. Cadwallader always made the worst of things. What -has happened to Miss Brooke? Pray speak out. - -Very well. She is engaged to be married. Mrs. Cadwallader paused a -few moments, observing the deeply hurt expression in her friends face, -which he was trying to conceal by a nervous smile, while he whipped his -boot; but she soon added, Engaged to Casaubon. - -Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it up. Perhaps his face -had never before gathered so much concentrated disgust as when he -turned to Mrs. Cadwallader and repeated, Casaubon? - -Even so. You know my errand now. - -Good God! It is horrible! He is no better than a mummy! (The point of -view has to be allowed for, as that of a blooming and disappointed -rival.) - -She says, he is a great soul.A great bladder for dried peas to rattle -in! said Mrs. Cadwallader. - -What business has an old bachelor like that to marry? said Sir James. -He has one foot in the grave. - -He means to draw it out again, I suppose. - -Brooke ought not to allow it: he should insist on its being put off -till she is of age. She would think better of it then. What is a -guardian for? - -As if you could ever squeeze a resolution out of Brooke! - -Cadwallader might talk to him. - -Not he! Humphrey finds everybody charming. I never can get him to -abuse Casaubon. He will even speak well of the bishop, though I tell -him it is unnatural in a beneficed clergyman; what can one do with a -husband who attends so little to the decencies? I hide it as well as I -can by abusing everybody myself. Come, come, cheer up! you are well rid -of Miss Brooke, a girl who would have been requiring you to see the -stars by daylight. Between ourselves, little Celia is worth two of her, -and likely after all to be the better match. For this marriage to -Casaubon is as good as going to a nunnery. - -Oh, on my own accountit is for Miss Brookes sake I think her friends -should try to use their influence. - -Well, Humphrey doesnt know yet. But when I tell him, you may depend -on it he will say, Why not? Casaubon is a good fellowand youngyoung -enough. These charitable people never know vinegar from wine till they -have swallowed it and got the colic. However, if I were a man I should -prefer Celia, especially when Dorothea was gone. The truth is, you have -been courting one and have won the other. I can see that she admires -you almost as much as a man expects to be admired. If it were any one -but me who said so, you might think it exaggeration. Good-by! - -Sir James handed Mrs. Cadwallader to the phaeton, and then jumped on -his horse. He was not going to renounce his ride because of his -friends unpleasant newsonly to ride the faster in some other -direction than that of Tipton Grange. - -Now, why on earth should Mrs. Cadwallader have been at all busy about -Miss Brookes marriage; and why, when one match that she liked to think -she had a hand in was frustrated, should she have straightway contrived -the preliminaries of another? Was there any ingenious plot, any -hide-and-seek course of action, which might be detected by a careful -telescopic watch? Not at all: a telescope might have swept the parishes -of Tipton and Freshitt, the whole area visited by Mrs. Cadwallader in -her phaeton, without witnessing any interview that could excite -suspicion, or any scene from which she did not return with the same -unperturbed keenness of eye and the same high natural color. In fact, -if that convenient vehicle had existed in the days of the Seven Sages, -one of them would doubtless have remarked, that you can know little of -women by following them about in their pony-phaetons. Even with a -microscope directed on a water-drop we find ourselves making -interpretations which turn out to be rather coarse; for whereas under a -weak lens you may seem to see a creature exhibiting an active voracity -into which other smaller creatures actively play as if they were so -many animated tax-pennies, a stronger lens reveals to you certain -tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these victims while the -swallower waits passively at his receipt of custom. In this way, -metaphorically speaking, a strong lens applied to Mrs. Cadwalladers -match-making will show a play of minute causes producing what may be -called thought and speech vortices to bring her the sort of food she -needed. Her life was rurally simple, quite free from secrets either -foul, dangerous, or otherwise important, and not consciously affected -by the great affairs of the world. All the more did the affairs of the -great world interest her, when communicated in the letters of high-born -relations: the way in which fascinating younger sons had gone to the -dogs by marrying their mistresses; the fine old-blooded idiocy of young -Lord Tapir, and the furious gouty humors of old Lord Megatherium; the -exact crossing of genealogies which had brought a coronet into a new -branch and widened the relations of scandal,these were topics of which -she retained details with the utmost accuracy, and reproduced them in -an excellent pickle of epigrams, which she herself enjoyed the more -because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-birth as she did -in game and vermin. She would never have disowned any one on the ground -of poverty: a De Bracy reduced to take his dinner in a basin would have -seemed to her an example of pathos worth exaggerating, and I fear his -aristocratic vices would not have horrified her. But her feeling -towards the vulgar rich was a sort of religious hatred: they had -probably made all their money out of high retail prices, and Mrs. -Cadwallader detested high prices for everything that was not paid in -kind at the Rectory: such people were no part of Gods design in making -the world; and their accent was an affliction to the ears. A town where -such monsters abounded was hardly more than a sort of low comedy, which -could not be taken account of in a well-bred scheme of the universe. -Let any lady who is inclined to be hard on Mrs. Cadwallader inquire -into the comprehensiveness of her own beautiful views, and be quite -sure that they afford accommodation for all the lives which have the -honor to coexist with hers. - -With such a mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came -near into the form that suited it, how could Mrs. Cadwallader feel that -the Miss Brookes and their matrimonial prospects were alien to her? -especially as it had been the habit of years for her to scold Mr. -Brooke with the friendliest frankness, and let him know in confidence -that she thought him a poor creature. From the first arrival of the -young ladies in Tipton she had prearranged Dorotheas marriage with Sir -James, and if it had taken place would have been quite sure that it was -her doing: that it should not take place after she had preconceived it, -caused her an irritation which every thinker will sympathize with. She -was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, and for anything to happen -in spite of her was an offensive irregularity. As to freaks like this -of Miss Brookes, Mrs. Cadwallader had no patience with them, and now -saw that her opinion of this girl had been infected with some of her -husbands weak charitableness: those Methodistical whims, that air of -being more religious than the rector and curate together, came from a -deeper and more constitutional disease than she had been willing to -believe. - -However, said Mrs. Cadwallader, first to herself and afterwards to -her husband, I throw her over: there was a chance, if she had married -Sir James, of her becoming a sane, sensible woman. He would never have -contradicted her, and when a woman is not contradicted, she has no -motive for obstinacy in her absurdities. But now I wish her joy of her -hair shirt. - -It followed that Mrs. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir -James, and having made up her mind that it was to be the younger Miss -Brooke, there could not have been a more skilful move towards the -success of her plan than her hint to the baronet that he had made an -impression on Celias heart. For he was not one of those gentlemen who -languish after the unattainable Sapphos apple that laughs from the -topmost boughthe charms which - -Smile like the knot of cowslips on the cliff, -Not to be come at by the willing hand. - - -He had no sonnets to write, and it could not strike him agreeably that -he was not an object of preference to the woman whom he had preferred. -Already the knowledge that Dorothea had chosen Mr. Casaubon had bruised -his attachment and relaxed its hold. Although Sir James was a -sportsman, he had some other feelings towards women than towards grouse -and foxes, and did not regard his future wife in the light of prey, -valuable chiefly for the excitements of the chase. Neither was he so -well acquainted with the habits of primitive races as to feel that an -ideal combat for her, tomahawk in hand, so to speak, was necessary to -the historical continuity of the marriage-tie. On the contrary, having -the amiable vanity which knits us to those who are fond of us, and -disinclines us to those who are indifferent, and also a good grateful -nature, the mere idea that a woman had a kindness towards him spun -little threads of tenderness from out his heart towards hers. - -Thus it happened, that after Sir James had ridden rather fast for half -an hour in a direction away from Tipton Grange, he slackened his pace, -and at last turned into a road which would lead him back by a shorter -cut. Various feelings wrought in him the determination after all to go -to the Grange to-day as if nothing new had happened. He could not help -rejoicing that he had never made the offer and been rejected; mere -friendly politeness required that he should call to see Dorothea about -the cottages, and now happily Mrs. Cadwallader had prepared him to -offer his congratulations, if necessary, without showing too much -awkwardness. He really did not like it: giving up Dorothea was very -painful to him; but there was something in the resolve to make this -visit forthwith and conquer all show of feeling, which was a sort of -file-biting and counter-irritant. And without his distinctly -recognizing the impulse, there certainly was present in him the sense -that Celia would be there, and that he should pay her more attention -than he had done before. - -We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between -breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale -about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, nothing! Pride -helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide -our own hurtsnot to hurt others. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -Piacer e popone -Vuol la sua stagione. -_Italian Proverb_. - - -Mr. Casaubon, as might be expected, spent a great deal of his time at -the Grange in these weeks, and the hindrance which courtship occasioned -to the progress of his great workthe Key to all Mythologiesnaturally -made him look forward the more eagerly to the happy termination of -courtship. But he had deliberately incurred the hindrance, having made -up his mind that it was now time for him to adorn his life with the -graces of female companionship, to irradiate the gloom which fatigue -was apt to hang over the intervals of studious labor with the play of -female fancy, and to secure in this, his culminating age, the solace of -female tendance for his declining years. Hence he determined to abandon -himself to the stream of feeling, and perhaps was surprised to find -what an exceedingly shallow rill it was. As in droughty regions baptism -by immersion could only be performed symbolically, Mr. Casaubon found -that sprinkling was the utmost approach to a plunge which his stream -would afford him; and he concluded that the poets had much exaggerated -the force of masculine passion. Nevertheless, he observed with pleasure -that Miss Brooke showed an ardent submissive affection which promised -to fulfil his most agreeable previsions of marriage. It had once or -twice crossed his mind that possibly there was some deficiency in -Dorothea to account for the moderation of his abandonment; but he was -unable to discern the deficiency, or to figure to himself a woman who -would have pleased him better; so that there was clearly no reason to -fall back upon but the exaggerations of human tradition. - -Could I not be preparing myself now to be more useful? said Dorothea -to him, one morning, early in the time of courtship; could I not learn -to read Latin and Greek aloud to you, as Miltons daughters did to -their father, without understanding what they read? - -I fear that would be wearisome to you, said Mr. Casaubon, smiling; -and, indeed, if I remember rightly, the young women you have mentioned -regarded that exercise in unknown tongues as a ground for rebellion -against the poet. - -Yes; but in the first place they were very naughty girls, else they -would have been proud to minister to such a father; and in the second -place they might have studied privately and taught themselves to -understand what they read, and then it would have been interesting. I -hope you dont expect me to be naughty and stupid? - -I expect you to be all that an exquisite young lady can be in every -possible relation of life. Certainly it might be a great advantage if -you were able to copy the Greek character, and to that end it were well -to begin with a little reading. - -Dorothea seized this as a precious permission. She would not have asked -Mr. Casaubon at once to teach her the languages, dreading of all things -to be tiresome instead of helpful; but it was not entirely out of -devotion to her future husband that she wished to know Latin and Greek. -Those provinces of masculine knowledge seemed to her a standing-ground -from which all truth could be seen more truly. As it was, she -constantly doubted her own conclusions, because she felt her own -ignorance: how could she be confident that one-roomed cottages were not -for the glory of God, when men who knew the classics appeared to -conciliate indifference to the cottages with zeal for the glory? -Perhaps even Hebrew might be necessaryat least the alphabet and a few -rootsin order to arrive at the core of things, and judge soundly on -the social duties of the Christian. And she had not reached that point -of renunciation at which she would have been satisfied with having a -wise husband: she wished, poor child, to be wise herself. Miss Brooke -was certainly very naive with all her alleged cleverness. Celia, whose -mind had never been thought too powerful, saw the emptiness of other -peoples pretensions much more readily. To have in general but little -feeling, seems to be the only security against feeling too much on any -particular occasion. - -However, Mr. Casaubon consented to listen and teach for an hour -together, like a schoolmaster of little boys, or rather like a lover, -to whom a mistresss elementary ignorance and difficulties have a -touching fitness. Few scholars would have disliked teaching the -alphabet under such circumstances. But Dorothea herself was a little -shocked and discouraged at her own stupidity, and the answers she got -to some timid questions about the value of the Greek accents gave her a -painful suspicion that here indeed there might be secrets not capable -of explanation to a womans reason. - -Mr. Brooke had no doubt on that point, and expressed himself with his -usual strength upon it one day that he came into the library while the -reading was going forward. - -Well, but now, Casaubon, such deep studies, classics, mathematics, -that kind of thing, are too taxing for a womantoo taxing, you know. - -Dorothea is learning to read the characters simply, said Mr. -Casaubon, evading the question. She had the very considerate thought -of saving my eyes. - -Ah, well, without understanding, you knowthat may not be so bad. But -there is a lightness about the feminine minda touch and gomusic, the -fine arts, that kind of thingthey should study those up to a certain -point, women should; but in a light way, you know. A woman should be -able to sit down and play you or sing you a good old English tune. That -is what I like; though I have heard most thingsbeen at the opera in -Vienna: Gluck, Mozart, everything of that sort. But Im a conservative -in musicits not like ideas, you know. I stick to the good old tunes. - -Mr. Casaubon is not fond of the piano, and I am very glad he is not, -said Dorothea, whose slight regard for domestic music and feminine fine -art must be forgiven her, considering the small tinkling and smearing -in which they chiefly consisted at that dark period. She smiled and -looked up at her betrothed with grateful eyes. If he had always been -asking her to play the Last Rose of Summer, she would have required -much resignation. He says there is only an old harpsichord at Lowick, -and it is covered with books. - -Ah, there you are behind Celia, my dear. Celia, now, plays very -prettily, and is always ready to play. However, since Casaubon does not -like it, you are all right. But its a pity you should not have little -recreations of that sort, Casaubon: the bow always strungthat kind of -thing, you knowwill not do. - -I never could look on it in the light of a recreation to have my ears -teased with measured noises, said Mr. Casaubon. A tune much iterated -has the ridiculous effect of making the words in my mind perform a sort -of minuet to keep timean effect hardly tolerable, I imagine, after -boyhood. As to the grander forms of music, worthy to accompany solemn -celebrations, and even to serve as an educating influence according to -the ancient conception, I say nothing, for with these we are not -immediately concerned. - -No; but music of that sort I should enjoy, said Dorothea. When we -were coming home from Lausanne my uncle took us to hear the great organ -at Freiberg, and it made me sob. - -That kind of thing is not healthy, my dear, said Mr. Brooke. -Casaubon, she will be in your hands now: you must teach my niece to -take things more quietly, eh, Dorothea? - -He ended with a smile, not wishing to hurt his niece, but really -thinking that it was perhaps better for her to be early married to so -sober a fellow as Casaubon, since she would not hear of Chettam. - -It is wonderful, though, he said to himself as he shuffled out of the -roomit is wonderful that she should have liked him. However, the -match is good. I should have been travelling out of my brief to have -hindered it, let Mrs. Cadwallader say what she will. He is pretty -certain to be a bishop, is Casaubon. That was a very seasonable -pamphlet of his on the Catholic Question:a deanery at least. They owe -him a deanery. - -And here I must vindicate a claim to philosophical reflectiveness, by -remarking that Mr. Brooke on this occasion little thought of the -Radical speech which, at a later period, he was led to make on the -incomes of the bishops. What elegant historian would neglect a striking -opportunity for pointing out that his heroes did not foresee the -history of the world, or even their own actions?For example, that -Henry of Navarre, when a Protestant baby, little thought of being a -Catholic monarch; or that Alfred the Great, when he measured his -laborious nights with burning candles, had no idea of future gentlemen -measuring their idle days with watches. Here is a mine of truth, which, -however vigorously it may be worked, is likely to outlast our coal. - -But of Mr. Brooke I make a further remark perhaps less warranted by -precedentnamely, that if he had foreknown his speech, it might not -have made any great difference. To think with pleasure of his nieces -husband having a large ecclesiastical income was one thingto make a -Liberal speech was another thing; and it is a narrow mind which cannot -look at a subject from various points of view. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now, -And you her father. Every gentle maid -Should have a guardian in each gentleman. - - -It was wonderful to Sir James Chettam how well he continued to like -going to the Grange after he had once encountered the difficulty of -seeing Dorothea for the first time in the light of a woman who was -engaged to another man. Of course the forked lightning seemed to pass -through him when he first approached her, and he remained conscious -throughout the interview of hiding uneasiness; but, good as he was, it -must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have been if -he had thought his rival a brilliant and desirable match. He had no -sense of being eclipsed by Mr. Casaubon; he was only shocked that -Dorothea was under a melancholy illusion, and his mortification lost -some of its bitterness by being mingled with compassion. - -Nevertheless, while Sir James said to himself that he had completely -resigned her, since with the perversity of a Desdemona she had not -affected a proposed match that was clearly suitable and according to -nature; he could not yet be quite passive under the idea of her -engagement to Mr. Casaubon. On the day when he first saw them together -in the light of his present knowledge, it seemed to him that he had not -taken the affair seriously enough. Brooke was really culpable; he ought -to have hindered it. Who could speak to him? Something might be done -perhaps even now, at least to defer the marriage. On his way home he -turned into the Rectory and asked for Mr. Cadwallader. Happily, the -Rector was at home, and his visitor was shown into the study, where all -the fishing tackle hung. But he himself was in a little room adjoining, -at work with his turning apparatus, and he called to the baronet to -join him there. The two were better friends than any other landholder -and clergyman in the countya significant fact which was in agreement -with the amiable expression of their faces. - -Mr. Cadwallader was a large man, with full lips and a sweet smile; very -plain and rough in his exterior, but with that solid imperturbable ease -and good-humor which is infectious, and like great grassy hills in the -sunshine, quiets even an irritated egoism, and makes it rather ashamed -of itself. Well, how are you? he said, showing a hand not quite fit -to be grasped. Sorry I missed you before. Is there anything -particular? You look vexed. - -Sir Jamess brow had a little crease in it, a little depression of the -eyebrow, which he seemed purposely to exaggerate as he answered. - -It is only this conduct of Brookes. I really think somebody should -speak to him. - -What? meaning to stand? said Mr. Cadwallader, going on with the -arrangement of the reels which he had just been turning. I hardly -think he means it. But wheres the harm, if he likes it? Any one who -objects to Whiggery should be glad when the Whigs dont put up the -strongest fellow. They wont overturn the Constitution with our friend -Brookes head for a battering ram. - -Oh, I dont mean that, said Sir James, who, after putting down his -hat and throwing himself into a chair, had begun to nurse his leg and -examine the sole of his boot with much bitterness. I mean this -marriage. I mean his letting that blooming young girl marry Casaubon. - -What is the matter with Casaubon? I see no harm in himif the girl -likes him. - -She is too young to know what she likes. Her guardian ought to -interfere. He ought not to allow the thing to be done in this headlong -manner. I wonder a man like you, Cadwalladera man with daughters, can -look at the affair with indifference: and with such a heart as yours! -Do think seriously about it. - -I am not joking; I am as serious as possible, said the Rector, with a -provoking little inward laugh. You are as bad as Elinor. She has been -wanting me to go and lecture Brooke; and I have reminded her that her -friends had a very poor opinion of the match she made when she married -me. - -But look at Casaubon, said Sir James, indignantly. He must be fifty, -and I dont believe he could ever have been much more than the shadow -of a man. Look at his legs! - -Confound you handsome young fellows! you think of having it all your -own way in the world. You dont understand women. They dont admire you -half so much as you admire yourselves. Elinor used to tell her sisters -that she married me for my uglinessit was so various and amusing that -it had quite conquered her prudence. - -You! it was easy enough for a woman to love you. But this is no -question of beauty. I dont _like_ Casaubon. This was Sir Jamess -strongest way of implying that he thought ill of a mans character. - -Why? what do you know against him? said the Rector laying down his -reels, and putting his thumbs into his armholes with an air of -attention. - -Sir James paused. He did not usually find it easy to give his reasons: -it seemed to him strange that people should not know them without being -told, since he only felt what was reasonable. At last he said - -Now, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? - -Well, yes. I dont mean of the melting sort, but a sound kernel, -_that_ you may be sure of. He is very good to his poor relations: -pensions several of the women, and is educating a young fellow at a -good deal of expense. Casaubon acts up to his sense of justice. His -mothers sister made a bad matcha Pole, I thinklost herselfat any -rate was disowned by her family. If it had not been for that, Casaubon -would not have had so much money by half. I believe he went himself to -find out his cousins, and see what he could do for them. Every man -would not ring so well as that, if you tried his metal. _You_ would, -Chettam; but not every man. - -I dont know, said Sir James, coloring. I am not so sure of myself. -He paused a moment, and then added, That was a right thing for -Casaubon to do. But a man may wish to do what is right, and yet be a -sort of parchment code. A woman may not be happy with him. And I think -when a girl is so young as Miss Brooke is, her friends ought to -interfere a little to hinder her from doing anything foolish. You -laugh, because you fancy I have some feeling on my own account. But -upon my honor, it is not that. I should feel just the same if I were -Miss Brookes brother or uncle. - -Well, but what should you do? - -I should say that the marriage must not be decided on until she was of -age. And depend upon it, in that case, it would never come off. I wish -you saw it as I doI wish you would talk to Brooke about it. - -Sir James rose as he was finishing his sentence, for he saw Mrs. -Cadwallader entering from the study. She held by the hand her youngest -girl, about five years old, who immediately ran to papa, and was made -comfortable on his knee. - -I hear what you are talking about, said the wife. But you will make -no impression on Humphrey. As long as the fish rise to his bait, -everybody is what he ought to be. Bless you, Casaubon has got a -trout-stream, and does not care about fishing in it himself: could -there be a better fellow? - -Well, there is something in that, said the Rector, with his quiet, -inward laugh. It is a very good quality in a man to have a -trout-stream. - -But seriously, said Sir James, whose vexation had not yet spent -itself, dont you think the Rector might do some good by speaking? - -Oh, I told you beforehand what he would say, answered Mrs. -Cadwallader, lifting up her eyebrows. I have done what I could: I wash -my hands of the marriage. - -In the first place, said the Rector, looking rather grave, it would -be nonsensical to expect that I could convince Brooke, and make him act -accordingly. Brooke is a very good fellow, but pulpy; he will run into -any mould, but he wont keep shape. - -He might keep shape long enough to defer the marriage, said Sir -James. - -But, my dear Chettam, why should I use my influence to Casaubons -disadvantage, unless I were much surer than I am that I should be -acting for the advantage of Miss Brooke? I know no harm of Casaubon. I -dont care about his Xisuthrus and Fee-fo-fum and the rest; but then he -doesnt care about my fishing-tackle. As to the line he took on the -Catholic Question, that was unexpected; but he has always been civil to -me, and I dont see why I should spoil his sport. For anything I can -tell, Miss Brooke may be happier with him than she would be with any -other man. - -Humphrey! I have no patience with you. You know you would rather dine -under the hedge than with Casaubon alone. You have nothing to say to -each other. - -What has that to do with Miss Brookes marrying him? She does not do -it for my amusement. - -He has got no good red blood in his body, said Sir James. - -No. Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was all -semicolons and parentheses, said Mrs. Cadwallader. - -Why does he not bring out his book, instead of marrying, said Sir -James, with a disgust which he held warranted by the sound feeling of -an English layman. - -Oh, he dreams footnotes, and they run away with all his brains. They -say, when he was a little boy, he made an abstract of Hop o my -Thumb, and he has been making abstracts ever since. Ugh! And that is -the man Humphrey goes on saying that a woman may be happy with. - -Well, he is what Miss Brooke likes, said the Rector. I dont profess -to understand every young ladys taste. - -But if she were your own daughter? said Sir James. - -That would be a different affair. She is _not_ my daughter, and I -dont feel called upon to interfere. Casaubon is as good as most of us. -He is a scholarly clergyman, and creditable to the cloth. Some Radical -fellow speechifying at Middlemarch said Casaubon was the learned -straw-chopping incumbent, and Freke was the brick-and-mortar incumbent, -and I was the angling incumbent. And upon my word, I dont see that one -is worse or better than the other. The Rector ended with his silent -laugh. He always saw the joke of any satire against himself. His -conscience was large and easy, like the rest of him: it did only what -it could do without any trouble. - -Clearly, there would be no interference with Miss Brookes marriage -through Mr. Cadwallader; and Sir James felt with some sadness that she -was to have perfect liberty of misjudgment. It was a sign of his good -disposition that he did not slacken at all in his intention of carrying -out Dorotheas design of the cottages. Doubtless this persistence was -the best course for his own dignity: but pride only helps us to be -generous; it never makes us so, any more than vanity makes us witty. -She was now enough aware of Sir Jamess position with regard to her, to -appreciate the rectitude of his perseverance in a landlords duty, to -which he had at first been urged by a lovers complaisance, and her -pleasure in it was great enough to count for something even in her -present happiness. Perhaps she gave to Sir James Chettams cottages all -the interest she could spare from Mr. Casaubon, or rather from the -symphony of hopeful dreams, admiring trust, and passionate self -devotion which that learned gentleman had set playing in her soul. -Hence it happened that in the good baronets succeeding visits, while -he was beginning to pay small attentions to Celia, he found himself -talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea. She was perfectly -unconstrained and without irritation towards him now, and he was -gradually discovering the delight there is in frank kindness and -companionship between a man and a woman who have no passion to hide or -confess. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -1_st Gent_. An ancient land in ancient oracles - Is called law-thirsty: all the struggle there - Was after order and a perfect rule. - Pray, where lie such lands now? . . . - -2_d Gent_. Why, where they lay of oldin human souls. - - -Mr. Casaubons behavior about settlements was highly satisfactory to -Mr. Brooke, and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, -shortening the weeks of courtship. The betrothed bride must see her -future home, and dictate any changes that she would like to have made -there. A woman dictates before marriage in order that she may have an -appetite for submission afterwards. And certainly, the mistakes that we -male and female mortals make when we have our own way might fairly -raise some wonder that we are so fond of it. - -On a gray but dry November morning Dorothea drove to Lowick in company -with her uncle and Celia. Mr. Casaubons home was the manor-house. -Close by, visible from some parts of the garden, was the little church, -with the old parsonage opposite. In the beginning of his career, Mr. -Casaubon had only held the living, but the death of his brother had put -him in possession of the manor also. It had a small park, with a fine -old oak here and there, and an avenue of limes towards the southwest -front, with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so that from -the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope -of greensward till the limes ended in a level of corn and pastures, -which often seemed to melt into a lake under the setting sun. This was -the happy side of the house, for the south and east looked rather -melancholy even under the brightest morning. The grounds here were more -confined, the flower-beds showed no very careful tendance, and large -clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had risen high, not ten yards -from the windows. The building, of greenish stone, was in the old -English style, not ugly, but small-windowed and melancholy-looking: the -sort of house that must have children, many flowers, open windows, and -little vistas of bright things, to make it seem a joyous home. In this -latter end of autumn, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling -slowly athwart the dark evergreens in a stillness without sunshine, the -house too had an air of autumnal decline, and Mr. Casaubon, when he -presented himself, had no bloom that could be thrown into relief by -that background. - -Oh dear! Celia said to herself, I am sure Freshitt Hall would have -been pleasanter than this. She thought of the white freestone, the -pillared portico, and the terrace full of flowers, Sir James smiling -above them like a prince issuing from his enchantment in a rose-bush, -with a handkerchief swiftly metamorphosed from the most delicately -odorous petalsSir James, who talked so agreeably, always about things -which had common-sense in them, and not about learning! Celia had those -light young feminine tastes which grave and weatherworn gentlemen -sometimes prefer in a wife; but happily Mr. Casaubons bias had been -different, for he would have had no chance with Celia. - -Dorothea, on the contrary, found the house and grounds all that she -could wish: the dark book-shelves in the long library, the carpets and -curtains with colors subdued by time, the curious old maps and -birds-eye views on the walls of the corridor, with here and there an -old vase below, had no oppression for her, and seemed more cheerful -than the casts and pictures at the Grange, which her uncle had long ago -brought home from his travelsthey being probably among the ideas he -had taken in at one time. To poor Dorothea these severe classical -nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully -inexplicable, staring into the midst of her Puritanic conceptions: she -had never been taught how she could bring them into any sort of -relevance with her life. But the owners of Lowick apparently had not -been travellers, and Mr. Casaubons studies of the past were not -carried on by means of such aids. - -Dorothea walked about the house with delightful emotion. Everything -seemed hallowed to her: this was to be the home of her wifehood, and -she looked up with eyes full of confidence to Mr. Casaubon when he drew -her attention specially to some actual arrangement and asked her if she -would like an alteration. All appeals to her taste she met gratefully, -but saw nothing to alter. His efforts at exact courtesy and formal -tenderness had no defect for her. She filled up all blanks with -unmanifested perfections, interpreting him as she interpreted the works -of Providence, and accounting for seeming discords by her own deafness -to the higher harmonies. And there are many blanks left in the weeks of -courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance. - -Now, my dear Dorothea, I wish you to favor me by pointing out which -room you would like to have as your boudoir, said Mr. Casaubon, -showing that his views of the womanly nature were sufficiently large to -include that requirement. - -It is very kind of you to think of that, said Dorothea, but I assure -you I would rather have all those matters decided for me. I shall be -much happier to take everything as it isjust as you have been used to -have it, or as you will yourself choose it to be. I have no motive for -wishing anything else. - -Oh, Dodo, said Celia, will you not have the bow-windowed room -up-stairs? - -Mr. Casaubon led the way thither. The bow-window looked down the avenue -of limes; the furniture was all of a faded blue, and there were -miniatures of ladies and gentlemen with powdered hair hanging in a -group. A piece of tapestry over a door also showed a blue-green world -with a pale stag in it. The chairs and tables were thin-legged and easy -to upset. It was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a -tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her embroidery. A light -bookcase contained duodecimo volumes of polite literature in calf, -completing the furniture. - -Yes, said Mr. Brooke, this would be a pretty room with some new -hangings, sofas, and that sort of thing. A little bare now. - -No, uncle, said Dorothea, eagerly. Pray do not speak of altering -anything. There are so many other things in the world that want -alteringI like to take these things as they are. And you like them as -they are, dont you? she added, looking at Mr. Casaubon. Perhaps this -was your mothers room when she was young. - -It was, he said, with his slow bend of the head. - -This is your mother, said Dorothea, who had turned to examine the -group of miniatures. It is like the tiny one you brought me; only, I -should think, a better portrait. And this one opposite, who is this? - -Her elder sister. They were, like you and your sister, the only two -children of their parents, who hang above them, you see. - -The sister is pretty, said Celia, implying that she thought less -favorably of Mr. Casaubons mother. It was a new opening to Celias -imagination, that he came of a family who had all been young in their -timethe ladies wearing necklaces. - -It is a peculiar face, said Dorothea, looking closely. Those deep -gray eyes rather near togetherand the delicate irregular nose with a -sort of ripple in itand all the powdered curls hanging backward. -Altogether it seems to me peculiar rather than pretty. There is not -even a family likeness between her and your mother. - -No. And they were not alike in their lot. - -You did not mention her to me, said Dorothea. - -My aunt made an unfortunate marriage. I never saw her. - -Dorothea wondered a little, but felt that it would be indelicate just -then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon did not proffer, and -she turned to the window to admire the view. The sun had lately pierced -the gray, and the avenue of limes cast shadows. - -Shall we not walk in the garden now? said Dorothea. - -And you would like to see the church, you know, said Mr. Brooke. It -is a droll little church. And the village. It all lies in a nut-shell. -By the way, it will suit you, Dorothea; for the cottages are like a row -of alms-houseslittle gardens, gilly-flowers, that sort of thing. - -Yes, please, said Dorothea, looking at Mr. Casaubon, I should like -to see all that. She had got nothing from him more graphic about the -Lowick cottages than that they were not bad. - -They were soon on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy -borders and clumps of trees, this being the nearest way to the church, -Mr. Casaubon said. At the little gate leading into the churchyard there -was a pause while Mr. Casaubon went to the parsonage close by to fetch -a key. Celia, who had been hanging a little in the rear, came up -presently, when she saw that Mr. Casaubon was gone away, and said in -her easy staccato, which always seemed to contradict the suspicion of -any malicious intent - -Do you know, Dorothea, I saw some one quite young coming up one of the -walks. - -Is that astonishing, Celia? - -There may be a young gardener, you knowwhy not? said Mr. Brooke. I -told Casaubon he should change his gardener. - -No, not a gardener, said Celia; a gentleman with a sketch-book. He -had light-brown curls. I only saw his back. But he was quite young. - -The curates son, perhaps, said Mr. Brooke. Ah, there is Casaubon -again, and Tucker with him. He is going to introduce Tucker. You dont -know Tucker yet. - -Mr. Tucker was the middle-aged curate, one of the inferior clergy, -who are usually not wanting in sons. But after the introduction, the -conversation did not lead to any question about his family, and the -startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but -Celia. She inwardly declined to believe that the light-brown curls and -slim figure could have any relationship to Mr. Tucker, who was just as -old and musty-looking as she would have expected Mr. Casaubons curate -to be; doubtless an excellent man who would go to heaven (for Celia -wished not to be unprincipled), but the corners of his mouth were so -unpleasant. Celia thought with some dismalness of the time she should -have to spend as bridesmaid at Lowick, while the curate had probably no -pretty little children whom she could like, irrespective of principle. - -Mr. Tucker was invaluable in their walk; and perhaps Mr. Casaubon had -not been without foresight on this head, the curate being able to -answer all Dorotheas questions about the villagers and the other -parishioners. Everybody, he assured her, was well off in Lowick: not a -cottager in those double cottages at a low rent but kept a pig, and the -strips of garden at the back were well tended. The small boys wore -excellent corduroy, the girls went out as tidy servants, or did a -little straw-plaiting at home: no looms here, no Dissent; and though -the public disposition was rather towards laying by money than towards -spirituality, there was not much vice. The speckled fowls were so -numerous that Mr. Brooke observed, Your farmers leave some barley for -the women to glean, I see. The poor folks here might have a fowl in -their pot, as the good French king used to wish for all his people. The -French eat a good many fowlsskinny fowls, you know. - -I think it was a very cheap wish of his, said Dorothea, indignantly. -Are kings such monsters that a wish like that must be reckoned a royal -virtue? - -And if he wished them a skinny fowl, said Celia, that would not be -nice. But perhaps he wished them to have fat fowls. - -Yes, but the word has dropped out of the text, or perhaps was -subauditum; that is, present in the kings mind, but not uttered, said -Mr. Casaubon, smiling and bending his head towards Celia, who -immediately dropped backward a little, because she could not bear Mr. -Casaubon to blink at her. - -Dorothea sank into silence on the way back to the house. She felt some -disappointment, of which she was yet ashamed, that there was nothing -for her to do in Lowick; and in the next few minutes her mind had -glanced over the possibility, which she would have preferred, of -finding that her home would be in a parish which had a larger share of -the worlds misery, so that she might have had more active duties in -it. Then, recurring to the future actually before her, she made a -picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Casaubons aims in which she -would await new duties. Many such might reveal themselves to the higher -knowledge gained by her in that companionship. - -Mr. Tucker soon left them, having some clerical work which would not -allow him to lunch at the Hall; and as they were re-entering the garden -through the little gate, Mr. Casaubon said - -You seem a little sad, Dorothea. I trust you are pleased with what you -have seen. - -I am feeling something which is perhaps foolish and wrong, answered -Dorothea, with her usual opennessalmost wishing that the people -wanted more to be done for them here. I have known so few ways of -making my life good for anything. Of course, my notions of usefulness -must be narrow. I must learn new ways of helping people. - -Doubtless, said Mr. Casaubon. Each position has its corresponding -duties. Yours, I trust, as the mistress of Lowick, will not leave any -yearning unfulfilled. - -Indeed, I believe that, said Dorothea, earnestly. Do not suppose -that I am sad. - -That is well. But, if you are not tired, we will take another way to -the house than that by which we came. - -Dorothea was not at all tired, and a little circuit was made towards a -fine yew-tree, the chief hereditary glory of the grounds on this side -of the house. As they approached it, a figure, conspicuous on a dark -background of evergreens, was seated on a bench, sketching the old -tree. Mr. Brooke, who was walking in front with Celia, turned his head, -and said - -Who is that youngster, Casaubon? - -They had come very near when Mr. Casaubon answered - -That is a young relative of mine, a second cousin: the grandson, in -fact, he added, looking at Dorothea, of the lady whose portrait you -have been noticing, my aunt Julia. - -The young man had laid down his sketch-book and risen. His bushy -light-brown curls, as well as his youthfulness, identified him at once -with Celias apparition. - -Dorothea, let me introduce to you my cousin, Mr. Ladislaw. Will, this -is Miss Brooke. - -The cousin was so close now, that, when he lifted his hat, Dorothea -could see a pair of gray eyes rather near together, a delicate -irregular nose with a little ripple in it, and hair falling backward; -but there was a mouth and chin of a more prominent, threatening aspect -than belonged to the type of the grandmothers miniature. Young -Ladislaw did not feel it necessary to smile, as if he were charmed with -this introduction to his future second cousin and her relatives; but -wore rather a pouting air of discontent. - -You are an artist, I see, said Mr. Brooke, taking up the sketch-book -and turning it over in his unceremonious fashion. - -No, I only sketch a little. There is nothing fit to be seen there, -said young Ladislaw, coloring, perhaps with temper rather than modesty. - -Oh, come, this is a nice bit, now. I did a little in this way myself -at one time, you know. Look here, now; this is what I call a nice -thing, done with what we used to call _brio_. Mr. Brooke held out -towards the two girls a large colored sketch of stony ground and trees, -with a pool. - -I am no judge of these things, said Dorothea, not coldly, but with an -eager deprecation of the appeal to her. You know, uncle, I never see -the beauty of those pictures which you say are so much praised. They -are a language I do not understand. I suppose there is some relation -between pictures and nature which I am too ignorant to feeljust as you -see what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to me. -Dorothea looked up at Mr. Casaubon, who bowed his head towards her, -while Mr. Brooke said, smiling nonchalantly - -Bless me, now, how different people are! But you had a bad style of -teaching, you knowelse this is just the thing for girlssketching, -fine art and so on. But you took to drawing plans; you dont understand -_morbidezza_, and that kind of thing. You will come to my house, I -hope, and I will show you what I did in this way, he continued, -turning to young Ladislaw, who had to be recalled from his -preoccupation in observing Dorothea. Ladislaw had made up his mind that -she must be an unpleasant girl, since she was going to marry Casaubon, -and what she said of her stupidity about pictures would have confirmed -that opinion even if he had believed her. As it was, he took her words -for a covert judgment, and was certain that she thought his sketch -detestable. There was too much cleverness in her apology: she was -laughing both at her uncle and himself. But what a voice! It was like -the voice of a soul that had once lived in an Aeolian harp. This must -be one of Natures inconsistencies. There could be no sort of passion -in a girl who would marry Casaubon. But he turned from her, and bowed -his thanks for Mr. Brookes invitation. - -We will turn over my Italian engravings together, continued that -good-natured man. I have no end of those things, that I have laid by -for years. One gets rusty in this part of the country, you know. Not -you, Casaubon; you stick to your studies; but my best ideas get -undermostout of use, you know. You clever young men must guard against -indolence. I was too indolent, you know: else I might have been -anywhere at one time. - -That is a seasonable admonition, said Mr. Casaubon; but now we will -pass on to the house, lest the young ladies should be tired of -standing. - -When their backs were turned, young Ladislaw sat down to go on with his -sketching, and as he did so his face broke into an expression of -amusement which increased as he went on drawing, till at last he threw -back his head and laughed aloud. Partly it was the reception of his own -artistic production that tickled him; partly the notion of his grave -cousin as the lover of that girl; and partly Mr. Brookes definition of -the place he might have held but for the impediment of indolence. Mr. -Will Ladislaws sense of the ludicrous lit up his features very -agreeably: it was the pure enjoyment of comicality, and had no mixture -of sneering and self-exaltation. - -What is your nephew going to do with himself, Casaubon? said Mr. -Brooke, as they went on. - -My cousin, you meannot my nephew. - -Yes, yes, cousin. But in the way of a career, you know. - -The answer to that question is painfully doubtful. On leaving Rugby he -declined to go to an English university, where I would gladly have -placed him, and chose what I must consider the anomalous course of -studying at Heidelberg. And now he wants to go abroad again, without -any special object, save the vague purpose of what he calls culture, -preparation for he knows not what. He declines to choose a profession. - -He has no means but what you furnish, I suppose. - -I have always given him and his friends reason to understand that I -would furnish in moderation what was necessary for providing him with a -scholarly education, and launching him respectably. I am therefore -bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Mr. Casaubon, putting -his conduct in the light of mere rectitude: a trait of delicacy which -Dorothea noticed with admiration. - -He has a thirst for travelling; perhaps he may turn out a Bruce or a -Mungo Park, said Mr. Brooke. I had a notion of that myself at one -time. - -No, he has no bent towards exploration, or the enlargement of our -geognosis: that would be a special purpose which I could recognize with -some approbation, though without felicitating him on a career which so -often ends in premature and violent death. But so far is he from having -any desire for a more accurate knowledge of the earths surface, that -he said he should prefer not to know the sources of the Nile, and that -there should be some unknown regions preserved as hunting grounds for -the poetic imagination. - -Well, there is something in that, you know, said Mr. Brooke, who had -certainly an impartial mind. - -It is, I fear, nothing more than a part of his general inaccuracy and -indisposition to thoroughness of all kinds, which would be a bad augury -for him in any profession, civil or sacred, even were he so far -submissive to ordinary rule as to choose one. - -Perhaps he has conscientious scruples founded on his own unfitness, -said Dorothea, who was interesting herself in finding a favorable -explanation. Because the law and medicine should be very serious -professions to undertake, should they not? Peoples lives and fortunes -depend on them. - -Doubtless; but I fear that my young relative Will Ladislaw is chiefly -determined in his aversion to these callings by a dislike to steady -application, and to that kind of acquirement which is needful -instrumentally, but is not charming or immediately inviting to -self-indulgent taste. I have insisted to him on what Aristotle has -stated with admirable brevity, that for the achievement of any work -regarded as an end there must be a prior exercise of many energies or -acquired facilities of a secondary order, demanding patience. I have -pointed to my own manuscript volumes, which represent the toil of years -preparatory to a work not yet accomplished. But in vain. To careful -reasoning of this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and every -form of prescribed work harness. - -Celia laughed. She was surprised to find that Mr. Casaubon could say -something quite amusing. - -Well, you know, he may turn out a Byron, a Chatterton, a -Churchillthat sort of thingtheres no telling, said Mr. Brooke. -Shall you let him go to Italy, or wherever else he wants to go? - -Yes; I have agreed to furnish him with moderate supplies for a year or -so; he asks no more. I shall let him be tried by the test of freedom. - -That is very kind of you, said Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon -with delight. It is noble. After all, people may really have in them -some vocation which is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? -They may seem idle and weak because they are growing. We should be very -patient with each other, I think. - -I suppose it is being engaged to be married that has made you think -patience good, said Celia, as soon as she and Dorothea were alone -together, taking off their wrappings. - -You mean that I am very impatient, Celia. - -Yes; when people dont do and say just what you like. Celia had -become less afraid of saying things to Dorothea since this -engagement: cleverness seemed to her more pitiable than ever. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -He had catched a great cold, had he had no other clothes to wear than -the skin of a bear not yet killed.FULLER. - - -Young Ladislaw did not pay that visit to which Mr. Brooke had invited -him, and only six days afterwards Mr. Casaubon mentioned that his young -relative had started for the Continent, seeming by this cold vagueness -to waive inquiry. Indeed, Will had declined to fix on any more precise -destination than the entire area of Europe. Genius, he held, is -necessarily intolerant of fetters: on the one hand it must have the -utmost play for its spontaneity; on the other, it may confidently await -those messages from the universe which summon it to its peculiar work, -only placing itself in an attitude of receptivity towards all sublime -chances. The attitudes of receptivity are various, and Will had -sincerely tried many of them. He was not excessively fond of wine, but -he had several times taken too much, simply as an experiment in that -form of ecstasy; he had fasted till he was faint, and then supped on -lobster; he had made himself ill with doses of opium. Nothing greatly -original had resulted from these measures; and the effects of the opium -had convinced him that there was an entire dissimilarity between his -constitution and De Quinceys. The superadded circumstance which would -evolve the genius had not yet come; the universe had not yet beckoned. -Even Caesars fortune at one time was but a grand presentiment. We know -what a masquerade all development is, and what effective shapes may be -disguised in helpless embryos. In fact, the world is full of hopeful -analogies and handsome dubious eggs called possibilities. Will saw -clearly enough the pitiable instances of long incubation producing no -chick, and but for gratitude would have laughed at Casaubon, whose -plodding application, rows of note-books, and small taper of learned -theory exploring the tossed ruins of the world, seemed to enforce a -moral entirely encouraging to Wills generous reliance on the -intentions of the universe with regard to himself. He held that -reliance to be a mark of genius; and certainly it is no mark to the -contrary; genius consisting neither in self-conceit nor in humility, -but in a power to make or do, not anything in general, but something in -particular. Let him start for the Continent, then, without our -pronouncing on his future. Among all forms of mistake, prophecy is the -most gratuitous. - -But at present this caution against a too hasty judgment interests me -more in relation to Mr. Casaubon than to his young cousin. If to -Dorothea Mr. Casaubon had been the mere occasion which had set alight -the fine inflammable material of her youthful illusions, does it follow -that he was fairly represented in the minds of those less impassioned -personages who have hitherto delivered their judgments concerning him? -I protest against any absolute conclusion, any prejudice derived from -Mrs. Cadwalladers contempt for a neighboring clergymans alleged -greatness of soul, or Sir James Chettams poor opinion of his rivals -legs,from Mr. Brookes failure to elicit a companions ideas, or from -Celias criticism of a middle-aged scholars personal appearance. I am -not sure that the greatest man of his age, if ever that solitary -superlative existed, could escape these unfavorable reflections of -himself in various small mirrors; and even Milton, looking for his -portrait in a spoon, must submit to have the facial angle of a bumpkin. -Moreover, if Mr. Casaubon, speaking for himself, has rather a chilling -rhetoric, it is not therefore certain that there is no good work or -fine feeling in him. Did not an immortal physicist and interpreter of -hieroglyphs write detestable verses? Has the theory of the solar system -been advanced by graceful manners and conversational tact? Suppose we -turn from outside estimates of a man, to wonder, with keener interest, -what is the report of his own consciousness about his doings or -capacity: with what hindrances he is carrying on his daily labors; what -fading of hopes, or what deeper fixity of self-delusion the years are -marking off within him; and with what spirit he wrestles against -universal pressure, which will one day be too heavy for him, and bring -his heart to its final pause. Doubtless his lot is important in his own -eyes; and the chief reason that we think he asks too large a place in -our consideration must be our want of room for him, since we refer him -to the Divine regard with perfect confidence; nay, it is even held -sublime for our neighbor to expect the utmost there, however little he -may have got from us. Mr. Casaubon, too, was the centre of his own -world; if he was liable to think that others were providentially made -for him, and especially to consider them in the light of their fitness -for the author of a Key to all Mythologies, this trait is not quite -alien to us, and, like the other mendicant hopes of mortals, claims -some of our pity. - -Certainly this affair of his marriage with Miss Brooke touched him more -nearly than it did any one of the persons who have hitherto shown their -disapproval of it, and in the present stage of things I feel more -tenderly towards his experience of success than towards the -disappointment of the amiable Sir James. For in truth, as the day fixed -for his marriage came nearer, Mr. Casaubon did not find his spirits -rising; nor did the contemplation of that matrimonial garden scene, -where, as all experience showed, the path was to be bordered with -flowers, prove persistently more enchanting to him than the accustomed -vaults where he walked taper in hand. He did not confess to himself, -still less could he have breathed to another, his surprise that though -he had won a lovely and noble-hearted girl he had not won -delight,which he had also regarded as an object to be found by search. -It is true that he knew all the classical passages implying the -contrary; but knowing classical passages, we find, is a mode of motion, -which explains why they leave so little extra force for their personal -application. - -Poor Mr. Casaubon had imagined that his long studious bachelorhood had -stored up for him a compound interest of enjoyment, and that large -drafts on his affections would not fail to be honored; for we all of -us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act -fatally on the strength of them. And now he was in danger of being -saddened by the very conviction that his circumstances were unusually -happy: there was nothing external by which he could account for a -certain blankness of sensibility which came over him just when his -expectant gladness should have been most lively, just when he exchanged -the accustomed dulness of his Lowick library for his visits to the -Grange. Here was a weary experience in which he was as utterly -condemned to loneliness as in the despair which sometimes threatened -him while toiling in the morass of authorship without seeming nearer to -the goal. And his was that worst loneliness which would shrink from -sympathy. He could not but wish that Dorothea should think him not less -happy than the world would expect her successful suitor to be; and in -relation to his authorship he leaned on her young trust and veneration, -he liked to draw forth her fresh interest in listening, as a means of -encouragement to himself: in talking to her he presented all his -performance and intention with the reflected confidence of the -pedagogue, and rid himself for the time of that chilling ideal audience -which crowded his laborious uncreative hours with the vaporous pressure -of Tartarean shades. - -For to Dorothea, after that toy-box history of the world adapted to -young ladies which had made the chief part of her education, Mr. -Casaubons talk about his great book was full of new vistas; and this -sense of revelation, this surprise of a nearer introduction to Stoics -and Alexandrians, as people who had ideas not totally unlike her own, -kept in abeyance for the time her usual eagerness for a binding theory -which could bring her own life and doctrine into strict connection with -that amazing past, and give the remotest sources of knowledge some -bearing on her actions. That more complete teaching would comeMr. -Casaubon would tell her all that: she was looking forward to higher -initiation in ideas, as she was looking forward to marriage, and -blending her dim conceptions of both. It would be a great mistake to -suppose that Dorothea would have cared about any share in Mr. -Casaubons learning as mere accomplishment; for though opinion in the -neighborhood of Freshitt and Tipton had pronounced her clever, that -epithet would not have described her to circles in whose more precise -vocabulary cleverness implies mere aptitude for knowing and doing, -apart from character. All her eagerness for acquirement lay within that -full current of sympathetic motive in which her ideas and impulses were -habitually swept along. She did not want to deck herself with -knowledgeto wear it loose from the nerves and blood that fed her -action; and if she had written a book she must have done it as Saint -Theresa did, under the command of an authority that constrained her -conscience. But something she yearned for by which her life might be -filled with action at once rational and ardent; and since the time was -gone by for guiding visions and spiritual directors, since prayer -heightened yearning but not instruction, what lamp was there but -knowledge? Surely learned men kept the only oil; and who more learned -than Mr. Casaubon? - -Thus in these brief weeks Dorotheas joyous grateful expectation was -unbroken, and however her lover might occasionally be conscious of -flatness, he could never refer it to any slackening of her affectionate -interest. - -The season was mild enough to encourage the project of extending the -wedding journey as far as Rome, and Mr. Casaubon was anxious for this -because he wished to inspect some manuscripts in the Vatican. - -I still regret that your sister is not to accompany us, he said one -morning, some time after it had been ascertained that Celia objected to -go, and that Dorothea did not wish for her companionship. You will -have many lonely hours, Dorothea, for I shall be constrained to make -the utmost use of my time during our stay in Rome, and I should feel -more at liberty if you had a companion. - -The words I should feel more at liberty grated on Dorothea. For the -first time in speaking to Mr. Casaubon she colored from annoyance. - -You must have misunderstood me very much, she said, if you think I -should not enter into the value of your timeif you think that I should -not willingly give up whatever interfered with your using it to the -best purpose. - -That is very amiable in you, my dear Dorothea, said Mr. Casaubon, not -in the least noticing that she was hurt; but if you had a lady as your -companion, I could put you both under the care of a cicerone, and we -could thus achieve two purposes in the same space of time. - -I beg you will not refer to this again, said Dorothea, rather -haughtily. But immediately she feared that she was wrong, and turning -towards him she laid her hand on his, adding in a different tone, Pray -do not be anxious about me. I shall have so much to think of when I am -alone. And Tantripp will be a sufficient companion, just to take care -of me. I could not bear to have Celia: she would be miserable. - -It was time to dress. There was to be a dinner-party that day, the last -of the parties which were held at the Grange as proper preliminaries to -the wedding, and Dorothea was glad of a reason for moving away at once -on the sound of the bell, as if she needed more than her usual amount -of preparation. She was ashamed of being irritated from some cause she -could not define even to herself; for though she had no intention to be -untruthful, her reply had not touched the real hurt within her. Mr. -Casaubons words had been quite reasonable, yet they had brought a -vague instantaneous sense of aloofness on his part. - -Surely I am in a strangely selfish weak state of mind, she said to -herself. How can I have a husband who is so much above me without -knowing that he needs me less than I need him? - -Having convinced herself that Mr. Casaubon was altogether right, she -recovered her equanimity, and was an agreeable image of serene dignity -when she came into the drawing-room in her silver-gray dressthe simple -lines of her dark-brown hair parted over her brow and coiled massively -behind, in keeping with the entire absence from her manner and -expression of all search after mere effect. Sometimes when Dorothea was -in company, there seemed to be as complete an air of repose about her -as if she had been a picture of Santa Barbara looking out from her -tower into the clear air; but these intervals of quietude made the -energy of her speech and emotion the more remarked when some outward -appeal had touched her. - -She was naturally the subject of many observations this evening, for -the dinner-party was large and rather more miscellaneous as to the male -portion than any which had been held at the Grange since Mr. Brookes -nieces had resided with him, so that the talking was done in duos and -trios more or less inharmonious. There was the newly elected mayor of -Middlemarch, who happened to be a manufacturer; the philanthropic -banker his brother-in-law, who predominated so much in the town that -some called him a Methodist, others a hypocrite, according to the -resources of their vocabulary; and there were various professional men. -In fact, Mrs. Cadwallader said that Brooke was beginning to treat the -Middlemarchers, and that she preferred the farmers at the tithe-dinner, -who drank her health unpretentiously, and were not ashamed of their -grandfathers furniture. For in that part of the country, before reform -had done its notable part in developing the political consciousness, -there was a clearer distinction of ranks and a dimmer distinction of -parties; so that Mr. Brookes miscellaneous invitations seemed to -belong to that general laxity which came from his inordinate travel and -habit of taking too much in the form of ideas. - -Already, as Miss Brooke passed out of the dining-room, opportunity was -found for some interjectional asides. - -A fine woman, Miss Brooke! an uncommonly fine woman, by God! said Mr. -Standish, the old lawyer, who had been so long concerned with the -landed gentry that he had become landed himself, and used that oath in -a deep-mouthed manner as a sort of armorial bearings, stamping the -speech of a man who held a good position. - -Mr. Bulstrode, the banker, seemed to be addressed, but that gentleman -disliked coarseness and profanity, and merely bowed. The remark was -taken up by Mr. Chichely, a middle-aged bachelor and coursing -celebrity, who had a complexion something like an Easter egg, a few -hairs carefully arranged, and a carriage implying the consciousness of -a distinguished appearance. - -Yes, but not my style of woman: I like a woman who lays herself out a -little more to please us. There should be a little filigree about a -womansomething of the coquette. A man likes a sort of challenge. The -more of a dead set she makes at you the better. - -Theres some truth in that, said Mr. Standish, disposed to be genial. -And, by God, its usually the way with them. I suppose it answers some -wise ends: Providence made them so, eh, Bulstrode? - -I should be disposed to refer coquetry to another source, said Mr. -Bulstrode. I should rather refer it to the devil. - -Ay, to be sure, there should be a little devil in a woman, said Mr. -Chichely, whose study of the fair sex seemed to have been detrimental -to his theology. And I like them blond, with a certain gait, and a -swan neck. Between ourselves, the mayors daughter is more to my taste -than Miss Brooke or Miss Celia either. If I were a marrying man I -should choose Miss Vincy before either of them. - -Well, make up, make up, said Mr. Standish, jocosely; you see the -middle-aged fellows carry the day. - -Mr. Chichely shook his head with much meaning: he was not going to -incur the certainty of being accepted by the woman he would choose. - -The Miss Vincy who had the honor of being Mr. Chichelys ideal was of -course not present; for Mr. Brooke, always objecting to go too far, -would not have chosen that his nieces should meet the daughter of a -Middlemarch manufacturer, unless it were on a public occasion. The -feminine part of the company included none whom Lady Chettam or Mrs. -Cadwallader could object to; for Mrs. Renfrew, the colonels widow, was -not only unexceptionable in point of breeding, but also interesting on -the ground of her complaint, which puzzled the doctors, and seemed -clearly a case wherein the fulness of professional knowledge might need -the supplement of quackery. Lady Chettam, who attributed her own -remarkable health to home-made bitters united with constant medical -attendance, entered with much exercise of the imagination into Mrs. -Renfrews account of symptoms, and into the amazing futility in her -case of all strengthening medicines. - -Where can all the strength of those medicines go, my dear? said the -mild but stately dowager, turning to Mrs. Cadwallader reflectively, -when Mrs. Renfrews attention was called away. - -It strengthens the disease, said the Rectors wife, much too -well-born not to be an amateur in medicine. Everything depends on the -constitution: some people make fat, some blood, and some bilethats my -view of the matter; and whatever they take is a sort of grist to the -mill. - -Then she ought to take medicines that would reducereduce the disease, -you know, if you are right, my dear. And I think what you say is -reasonable. - -Certainly it is reasonable. You have two sorts of potatoes, fed on the -same soil. One of them grows more and more watery - -Ah! like this poor Mrs. Renfrewthat is what I think. Dropsy! There is -no swelling yetit is inward. I should say she ought to take drying -medicines, shouldnt you?or a dry hot-air bath. Many things might be -tried, of a drying nature. - -Let her try a certain persons pamphlets, said Mrs. Cadwallader in an -undertone, seeing the gentlemen enter. He does not want drying. - -Who, my dear? said Lady Chettam, a charming woman, not so quick as to -nullify the pleasure of explanation. - -The bridegroomCasaubon. He has certainly been drying up faster since -the engagement: the flame of passion, I suppose. - -I should think he is far from having a good constitution, said Lady -Chettam, with a still deeper undertone. And then his studiesso very -dry, as you say. - -Really, by the side of Sir James, he looks like a deaths head skinned -over for the occasion. Mark my words: in a year from this time that -girl will hate him. She looks up to him as an oracle now, and by-and-by -she will be at the other extreme. All flightiness! - -How very shocking! I fear she is headstrong. But tell meyou know all -about himis there anything very bad? What is the truth? - -The truth? he is as bad as the wrong physicnasty to take, and sure to -disagree. - -There could not be anything worse than that, said Lady Chettam, with -so vivid a conception of the physic that she seemed to have learned -something exact about Mr. Casaubons disadvantages. However, James -will hear nothing against Miss Brooke. He says she is the mirror of -women still. - -That is a generous make-believe of his. Depend upon it, he likes -little Celia better, and she appreciates him. I hope you like my little -Celia? - -Certainly; she is fonder of geraniums, and seems more docile, though -not so fine a figure. But we were talking of physic. Tell me about this -new young surgeon, Mr. Lydgate. I am told he is wonderfully clever: he -certainly looks ita fine brow indeed. - -He is a gentleman. I heard him talking to Humphrey. He talks well. - -Yes. Mr. Brooke says he is one of the Lydgates of Northumberland, -really well connected. One does not expect it in a practitioner of that -kind. For my own part, I like a medical man more on a footing with the -servants; they are often all the cleverer. I assure you I found poor -Hickss judgment unfailing; I never knew him wrong. He was coarse and -butcher-like, but he knew my constitution. It was a loss to me his -going off so suddenly. Dear me, what a very animated conversation Miss -Brooke seems to be having with this Mr. Lydgate! - -She is talking cottages and hospitals with him, said Mrs. -Cadwallader, whose ears and power of interpretation were quick. I -believe he is a sort of philanthropist, so Brooke is sure to take him -up. - -James, said Lady Chettam when her son came near, bring Mr. Lydgate -and introduce him to me. I want to test him. - -The affable dowager declared herself delighted with this opportunity of -making Mr. Lydgates acquaintance, having heard of his success in -treating fever on a new plan. - -Mr. Lydgate had the medical accomplishment of looking perfectly grave -whatever nonsense was talked to him, and his dark steady eyes gave him -impressiveness as a listener. He was as little as possible like the -lamented Hicks, especially in a certain careless refinement about his -toilet and utterance. Yet Lady Chettam gathered much confidence in him. -He confirmed her view of her own constitution as being peculiar, by -admitting that all constitutions might be called peculiar, and he did -not deny that hers might be more peculiar than others. He did not -approve of a too lowering system, including reckless cupping, nor, on -the other hand, of incessant port wine and bark. He said I think so -with an air of so much deference accompanying the insight of agreement, -that she formed the most cordial opinion of his talents. - -I am quite pleased with your protege, she said to Mr. Brooke before -going away. - -My protege?dear me!who is that? said Mr. Brooke. - -This young Lydgate, the new doctor. He seems to me to understand his -profession admirably. - -Oh, Lydgate! he is not my protege, you know; only I knew an uncle of -his who sent me a letter about him. However, I think he is likely to be -first-ratehas studied in Paris, knew Broussais; has ideas, you -knowwants to raise the profession. - -Lydgate has lots of ideas, quite new, about ventilation and diet, that -sort of thing, resumed Mr. Brooke, after he had handed out Lady -Chettam, and had returned to be civil to a group of Middlemarchers. - -Hang it, do you think that is quite sound?upsetting the old -treatment, which has made Englishmen what they are? said Mr. Standish. - -Medical knowledge is at a low ebb among us, said Mr. Bulstrode, who -spoke in a subdued tone, and had rather a sickly air. I, for my part, -hail the advent of Mr. Lydgate. I hope to find good reason for -confiding the new hospital to his management. - -That is all very fine, replied Mr. Standish, who was not fond of Mr. -Bulstrode; if you like him to try experiments on your hospital -patients, and kill a few people for charity I have no objection. But I -am not going to hand money out of my purse to have experiments tried on -me. I like treatment that has been tested a little. - -Well, you know, Standish, every dose you take is an experiment-an -experiment, you know, said Mr. Brooke, nodding towards the lawyer. - -Oh, if you talk in that sense! said Mr. Standish, with as much -disgust at such non-legal quibbling as a man can well betray towards a -valuable client. - -I should be glad of any treatment that would cure me without reducing -me to a skeleton, like poor Grainger, said Mr. Vincy, the mayor, a -florid man, who would have served for a study of flesh in striking -contrast with the Franciscan tints of Mr. Bulstrode. Its an -uncommonly dangerous thing to be left without any padding against the -shafts of disease, as somebody said,and I think it a very good -expression myself. - -Mr. Lydgate, of course, was out of hearing. He had quitted the party -early, and would have thought it altogether tedious but for the novelty -of certain introductions, especially the introduction to Miss Brooke, -whose youthful bloom, with her approaching marriage to that faded -scholar, and her interest in matters socially useful, gave her the -piquancy of an unusual combination. - -She is a good creaturethat fine girlbut a little too earnest, he -thought. It is troublesome to talk to such women. They are always -wanting reasons, yet they are too ignorant to understand the merits of -any question, and usually fall back on their moral sense to settle -things after their own taste. - -Evidently Miss Brooke was not Mr. Lydgates style of woman any more -than Mr. Chichelys. Considered, indeed, in relation to the latter, -whose mind was matured, she was altogether a mistake, and calculated to -shock his trust in final causes, including the adaptation of fine young -women to purplefaced bachelors. But Lydgate was less ripe, and might -possibly have experience before him which would modify his opinion as -to the most excellent things in woman. - -Miss Brooke, however, was not again seen by either of these gentlemen -under her maiden name. Not long after that dinner-party she had become -Mrs. Casaubon, and was on her way to Rome. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -But deeds and language such as men do use, -And persons such as comedy would choose, -When she would show an image of the times, -And sport with human follies, not with crimes. -BEN JONSON. - - -Lydgate, in fact, was already conscious of being fascinated by a woman -strikingly different from Miss Brooke: he did not in the least suppose -that he had lost his balance and fallen in love, but he had said of -that particular woman, She is grace itself; she is perfectly lovely -and accomplished. That is what a woman ought to be: she ought to -produce the effect of exquisite music. Plain women he regarded as he -did the other severe facts of life, to be faced with philosophy and -investigated by science. But Rosamond Vincy seemed to have the true -melodic charm; and when a man has seen the woman whom he would have -chosen if he had intended to marry speedily, his remaining a bachelor -will usually depend on her resolution rather than on his. Lydgate -believed that he should not marry for several years: not marry until he -had trodden out a good clear path for himself away from the broad road -which was quite ready made. He had seen Miss Vincy above his horizon -almost as long as it had taken Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and -married: but this learned gentleman was possessed of a fortune; he had -assembled his voluminous notes, and had made that sort of reputation -which precedes performance,often the larger part of a mans fame. He -took a wife, as we have seen, to adorn the remaining quadrant of his -course, and be a little moon that would cause hardly a calculable -perturbation. But Lydgate was young, poor, ambitious. He had his -half-century before him instead of behind him, and he had come to -Middlemarch bent on doing many things that were not directly fitted to -make his fortune or even secure him a good income. To a man under such -circumstances, taking a wife is something more than a question of -adornment, however highly he may rate this; and Lydgate was disposed to -give it the first place among wifely functions. To his taste, guided by -a single conversation, here was the point on which Miss Brooke would be -found wanting, notwithstanding her undeniable beauty. She did not look -at things from the proper feminine angle. The society of such women was -about as relaxing as going from your work to teach the second form, -instead of reclining in a paradise with sweet laughs for bird-notes, -and blue eyes for a heaven. - -Certainly nothing at present could seem much less important to Lydgate -than the turn of Miss Brookes mind, or to Miss Brooke than the -qualities of the woman who had attracted this young surgeon. But any -one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow -preparation of effects from one life on another, which tells like a -calculated irony on the indifference or the frozen stare with which we -look at our unintroduced neighbor. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our -dramatis personae folded in her hand. - -Old provincial society had its share of this subtle movement: had not -only its striking downfalls, its brilliant young professional dandies -who ended by living up an entry with a drab and six children for their -establishment, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are -constantly shifting the boundaries of social intercourse, and begetting -new consciousness of interdependence. Some slipped a little downward, -some got higher footing: people denied aspirates, gained wealth, and -fastidious gentlemen stood for boroughs; some were caught in political -currents, some in ecclesiastical, and perhaps found themselves -surprisingly grouped in consequence; while a few personages or families -that stood with rocky firmness amid all this fluctuation, were slowly -presenting new aspects in spite of solidity, and altering with the -double change of self and beholder. Municipal town and rural parish -gradually made fresh threads of connectiongradually, as the old -stocking gave way to the savings-bank, and the worship of the solar -guinea became extinct; while squires and baronets, and even lords who -had once lived blamelessly afar from the civic mind, gathered the -faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Settlers, too, came from distant -counties, some with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an -offensive advantage in cunning. In fact, much the same sort of movement -and mixture went on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who -also, in telling what had been, thought it well to take a womans lot -for his starting-point; though Io, as a maiden apparently beguiled by -attractive merchandise, was the reverse of Miss Brooke, and in this -respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy, who had -excellent taste in costume, with that nymph-like figure and pure -blondness which give the largest range to choice in the flow and color -of drapery. But these things made only part of her charm. She was -admitted to be the flower of Mrs. Lemons school, the chief school in -the county, where the teaching included all that was demanded in the -accomplished femaleeven to extras, such as the getting in and out of a -carriage. Mrs. Lemon herself had always held up Miss Vincy as an -example: no pupil, she said, exceeded that young lady for mental -acquisition and propriety of speech, while her musical execution was -quite exceptional. We cannot help the way in which people speak of us, -and probably if Mrs. Lemon had undertaken to describe Juliet or Imogen, -these heroines would not have seemed poetical. The first vision of -Rosamond would have been enough with most judges to dispel any -prejudice excited by Mrs. Lemons praise. - -Lydgate could not be long in Middlemarch without having that agreeable -vision, or even without making the acquaintance of the Vincy family; -for though Mr. Peacock, whose practice he had paid something to enter -on, had not been their doctor (Mrs. Vincy not liking the lowering -system adopted by him), he had many patients among their connections -and acquaintances. For who of any consequence in Middlemarch was not -connected or at least acquainted with the Vincys? They were old -manufacturers, and had kept a good house for three generations, in -which there had naturally been much intermarrying with neighbors more -or less decidedly genteel. Mr. Vincys sister had made a wealthy match -in accepting Mr. Bulstrode, who, however, as a man not born in the -town, and altogether of dimly known origin, was considered to have done -well in uniting himself with a real Middlemarch family; on the other -hand, Mr. Vincy had descended a little, having taken an innkeepers -daughter. But on this side too there was a cheering sense of money; for -Mrs. Vincys sister had been second wife to rich old Mr. Featherstone, -and had died childless years ago, so that her nephews and nieces might -be supposed to touch the affections of the widower. And it happened -that Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Featherstone, two of Peacocks most -important patients, had, from different causes, given an especially -good reception to his successor, who had raised some partisanship as -well as discussion. Mr. Wrench, medical attendant to the Vincy family, -very early had grounds for thinking lightly of Lydgates professional -discretion, and there was no report about him which was not retailed at -the Vincys, where visitors were frequent. Mr. Vincy was more inclined -to general good-fellowship than to taking sides, but there was no need -for him to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Rosamond -silently wished that her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. She was tired -of the faces and figures she had always been used tothe various -irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those -Middlemarch young men whom she had known as boys. She had been at -school with girls of higher position, whose brothers, she felt sure, it -would have been possible for her to be more interested in, than in -these inevitable Middlemarch companions. But she would not have chosen -to mention her wish to her father; and he, for his part, was in no -hurry on the subject. An alderman about to be mayor must by-and-by -enlarge his dinner-parties, but at present there were plenty of guests -at his well-spread table. - -That table often remained covered with the relics of the family -breakfast long after Mr. Vincy had gone with his second son to the -warehouse, and when Miss Morgan was already far on in morning lessons -with the younger girls in the schoolroom. It awaited the family -laggard, who found any sort of inconvenience (to others) less -disagreeable than getting up when he was called. This was the case one -morning of the October in which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon -visiting the Grange; and though the room was a little overheated with -the fire, which had sent the spaniel panting to a remote corner, -Rosamond, for some reason, continued to sit at her embroidery longer -than usual, now and then giving herself a little shake, and laying her -work on her knee to contemplate it with an air of hesitating weariness. -Her mamma, who had returned from an excursion to the kitchen, sat on -the other side of the small work-table with an air of more entire -placidity, until, the clock again giving notice that it was going to -strike, she looked up from the lace-mending which was occupying her -plump fingers and rang the bell. - -Knock at Mr. Freds door again, Pritchard, and tell him it has struck -half-past ten. - -This was said without any change in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. -Vincys face, in which forty-five years had delved neither angles nor -parallels; and pushing back her pink capstrings, she let her work rest -on her lap, while she looked admiringly at her daughter. - -Mamma, said Rosamond, when Fred comes down I wish you would not let -him have red herrings. I cannot bear the smell of them all over the -house at this hour of the morning. - -Oh, my dear, you are so hard on your brothers! It is the only fault I -have to find with you. You are the sweetest temper in the world, but -you are so tetchy with your brothers. - -Not tetchy, mamma: you never hear me speak in an unladylike way. - -Well, but you want to deny them things. - -Brothers are so unpleasant. - -Oh, my dear, you must allow for young men. Be thankful if they have -good hearts. A woman must learn to put up with little things. You will -be married some day. - -Not to any one who is like Fred. - -Dont decry your own brother, my dear. Few young men have less against -them, although he couldnt take his degreeIm sure I cant understand -why, for he seems to me most clever. And you know yourself he was -thought equal to the best society at college. So particular as you are, -my dear, I wonder you are not glad to have such a gentlemanly young man -for a brother. You are always finding fault with Bob because he is not -Fred. - -Oh no, mamma, only because he is Bob. - -Well, my dear, you will not find any Middlemarch young man who has not -something against him. - -Buthere Rosamonds face broke into a smile which suddenly revealed -two dimples. She herself thought unfavorably of these dimples and -smiled little in general society. But I shall not marry any -Middlemarch young man. - -So it seems, my love, for you have as good as refused the pick of -them; and if theres better to be had, Im sure theres no girl better -deserves it. - -Excuse me, mammaI wish you would not say, the pick of them. - -Why, what else are they? - -I mean, mamma, it is rather a vulgar expression. - -Very likely, my dear; I never was a good speaker. What should I say? - -The best of them. - -Why, that seems just as plain and common. If I had had time to think, -I should have said, the most superior young men. But with your -education you must know. - -What must Rosy know, mother? said Mr. Fred, who had slid in -unobserved through the half-open door while the ladies were bending -over their work, and now going up to the fire stood with his back -towards it, warming the soles of his slippers. - -Whether its right to say superior young men, said Mrs. Vincy, -ringing the bell. - -Oh, there are so many superior teas and sugars now. Superior is -getting to be shopkeepers slang. - -Are you beginning to dislike slang, then? said Rosamond, with mild -gravity. - -Only the wrong sort. All choice of words is slang. It marks a class. - -There is correct English: that is not slang. - -I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write -history and essays. And the strongest slang of all is the slang of -poets. - -You will say anything, Fred, to gain your point. - -Well, tell me whether it is slang or poetry to call an ox a -_leg-plaiter_. - -Of course you can call it poetry if you like. - -Aha, Miss Rosy, you dont know Homer from slang. I shall invent a new -game; I shall write bits of slang and poetry on slips, and give them to -you to separate. - -Dear me, how amusing it is to hear young people talk! said Mrs. -Vincy, with cheerful admiration. - -Have you got nothing else for my breakfast, Pritchard? said Fred, to -the servant who brought in coffee and buttered toast; while he walked -round the table surveying the ham, potted beef, and other cold -remnants, with an air of silent rejection, and polite forbearance from -signs of disgust. - -Should you like eggs, sir? - -Eggs, no! Bring me a grilled bone. - -Really, Fred, said Rosamond, when the servant had left the room, if -you must have hot things for breakfast, I wish you would come down -earlier. You can get up at six oclock to go out hunting; I cannot -understand why you find it so difficult to get up on other mornings. - -That is your want of understanding, Rosy. I can get up to go hunting -because I like it. - -What would you think of me if I came down two hours after every one -else and ordered grilled bone? - -I should think you were an uncommonly fast young lady, said Fred, -eating his toast with the utmost composure. - -I cannot see why brothers are to make themselves disagreeable, any -more than sisters. - -I dont make myself disagreeable; it is you who find me so. -Disagreeable is a word that describes your feelings and not my -actions. - -I think it describes the smell of grilled bone. - -Not at all. It describes a sensation in your little nose associated -with certain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Lemons -school. Look at my mother; you dont see her objecting to everything -except what she does herself. She is my notion of a pleasant woman. - -Bless you both, my dears, and dont quarrel, said Mrs. Vincy, with -motherly cordiality. Come, Fred, tell us all about the new doctor. How -is your uncle pleased with him? - -Pretty well, I think. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then -screws up his face while he hears the answers, as if they were pinching -his toes. Thats his way. Ah, here comes my grilled bone. - -But how came you to stay out so late, my dear? You only said you were -going to your uncles. - -Oh, I dined at Plymdales. We had whist. Lydgate was there too. - -And what do you think of him? He is very gentlemanly, I suppose. They -say he is of excellent familyhis relations quite county people. - -Yes, said Fred. There was a Lydgate at Johns who spent no end of -money. I find this man is a second cousin of his. But rich men may have -very poor devils for second cousins. - -It always makes a difference, though, to be of good family, said -Rosamond, with a tone of decision which showed that she had thought on -this subject. Rosamond felt that she might have been happier if she had -not been the daughter of a Middlemarch manufacturer. She disliked -anything which reminded her that her mothers father had been an -innkeeper. Certainly any one remembering the fact might think that Mrs. -Vincy had the air of a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed -to the most capricious orders of gentlemen. - -I thought it was odd his name was Tertius, said the bright-faced -matron, but of course its a name in the family. But now, tell us -exactly what sort of man he is. - -Oh, tallish, dark, clevertalks wellrather a prig, I think. - -I never can make out what you mean by a prig, said Rosamond. - -A fellow who wants to show that he has opinions. - -Why, my dear, doctors must have opinions, said Mrs. Vincy. What are -they there for else? - -Yes, mother, the opinions they are paid for. But a prig is a fellow -who is always making you a present of his opinions. - -I suppose Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate, said Rosamond, not without -a touch of innuendo. - -Really, I cant say. said Fred, rather glumly, as he left the table, -and taking up a novel which he had brought down with him, threw himself -into an arm-chair. If you are jealous of her, go oftener to Stone -Court yourself and eclipse her. - -I wish you would not be so vulgar, Fred. If you have finished, pray -ring the bell. - -It is true, thoughwhat your brother says, Rosamond, Mrs. Vincy -began, when the servant had cleared the table. It is a thousand pities -you havent patience to go and see your uncle more, so proud of you as -he is, and wanted you to live with him. Theres no knowing what he -might have done for you as well as for Fred. God knows, Im fond of -having you at home with me, but I can part with my children for their -good. And now it stands to reason that your uncle Featherstone will do -something for Mary Garth. - -Mary Garth can bear being at Stone Court, because she likes that -better than being a governess, said Rosamond, folding up her work. I -would rather not have anything left to me if I must earn it by enduring -much of my uncles cough and his ugly relations. - -He cant be long for this world, my dear; I wouldnt hasten his end, -but what with asthma and that inward complaint, let us hope there is -something better for him in another. And I have no ill-will towards -Mary Garth, but theres justice to be thought of. And Mr. -Featherstones first wife brought him no money, as my sister did. Her -nieces and nephews cant have so much claim as my sisters. And I must -say I think Mary Garth a dreadful plain girlmore fit for a governess. - -Every one would not agree with you there, mother, said Fred, who -seemed to be able to read and listen too. - -Well, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if she _had_ -some fortune left her,a man marries his wifes relations, and the -Garths are so poor, and live in such a small way. But I shall leave you -to your studies, my dear; for I must go and do some shopping. - -Freds studies are not very deep, said Rosamond, rising with her -mamma, he is only reading a novel. - -Well, well, by-and-by hell go to his Latin and things, said Mrs. -Vincy, soothingly, stroking her sons head. Theres a fire in the -smoking-room on purpose. Its your fathers wish, you knowFred, my -dearand I always tell him you will be good, and go to college again to -take your degree. - -Fred drew his mothers hand down to his lips, but said nothing. - -I suppose you are not going out riding to-day? said Rosamond, -lingering a little after her mamma was gone. - -No; why? - -Papa says I may have the chestnut to ride now. - -You can go with me to-morrow, if you like. Only I am going to Stone -Court, remember. - -I want to ride so much, it is indifferent to me where we go. Rosamond -really wished to go to Stone Court, of all other places. - -Oh, I say, Rosy, said Fred, as she was passing out of the room, if -you are going to the piano, let me come and play some airs with you. - -Pray do not ask me this morning. - -Why not this morning? - -Really, Fred, I wish you would leave off playing the flute. A man -looks very silly playing the flute. And you play so out of tune. - -When next any one makes love to you, Miss Rosamond, I will tell him -how obliging you are. - -Why should you expect me to oblige you by hearing you play the flute, -any more than I should expect you to oblige me by not playing it? - -And why should you expect me to take you out riding? - -This question led to an adjustment, for Rosamond had set her mind on -that particular ride. - -So Fred was gratified with nearly an hours practice of Ar hyd y nos, -Ye banks and braes, and other favorite airs from his Instructor on -the Flute; a wheezy performance, into which he threw much ambition and -an irrepressible hopefulness. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -He had more tow on his distaffe -Than Gerveis knew. -CHAUCER. - - -The ride to Stone Court, which Fred and Rosamond took the next morning, -lay through a pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and -pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in bushy beauty and to -spread out coral fruit for the birds. Little details gave each field a -particular physiognomy, dear to the eyes that have looked on them from -childhood: the pool in the corner where the grasses were dank and trees -leaned whisperingly; the great oak shadowing a bare place in -mid-pasture; the high bank where the ash-trees grew; the sudden slope -of the old marl-pit making a red background for the burdock; the -huddled roofs and ricks of the homestead without a traceable way of -approach; the gray gate and fences against the depths of the bordering -wood; and the stray hovel, its old, old thatch full of mossy hills and -valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow such as we travel -far to see in later life, and see larger, but not more beautiful. These -are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred -soulsthe things they toddled among, or perhaps learned by heart -standing between their fathers knees while he drove leisurely. - -But the road, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have -seen, was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it was into -Lowick parish that Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles -riding. Another mile would bring them to Stone Court, and at the end of -the first half, the house was already visible, looking as if it had -been arrested in its growth toward a stone mansion by an unexpected -budding of farm-buildings on its left flank, which had hindered it from -becoming anything more than the substantial dwelling of a gentleman -farmer. It was not the less agreeable an object in the distance for the -cluster of pinnacled corn-ricks which balanced the fine row of walnuts -on the right. - -Presently it was possible to discern something that might be a gig on -the circular drive before the front door. - -Dear me, said Rosamond, I hope none of my uncles horrible relations -are there. - -They are, though. That is Mrs. Waules gigthe last yellow gig left, I -should think. When I see Mrs. Waule in it, I understand how yellow can -have been worn for mourning. That gig seems to me more funereal than a -hearse. But then Mrs. Waule always has black crape on. How does she -manage it, Rosy? Her friends cant always be dying. - -I dont know at all. And she is not in the least evangelical, said -Rosamond, reflectively, as if that religious point of view would have -fully accounted for perpetual crape. And, not poor, she added, after -a moments pause. - -No, by George! They are as rich as Jews, those Waules and -Featherstones; I mean, for people like them, who dont want to spend -anything. And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are -afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family. But I -believe he hates them all. - -The Mrs. Waule who was so far from being admirable in the eyes of these -distant connections, had happened to say this very morning (not at all -with a defiant air, but in a low, muffled, neutral tone, as of a voice -heard through cotton wool) that she did not wish to enjoy their good -opinion. She was seated, as she observed, on her own brothers hearth, -and had been Jane Featherstone five-and-twenty years before she had -been Jane Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brothers -name had been made free with by those who had no right to it. - -What are you driving at there? said Mr. Featherstone, holding his -stick between his knees and settling his wig, while he gave her a -momentary sharp glance, which seemed to react on him like a draught of -cold air and set him coughing. - -Mrs. Waule had to defer her answer till he was quiet again, till Mary -Garth had supplied him with fresh syrup, and he had begun to rub the -gold knob of his stick, looking bitterly at the fire. It was a bright -fire, but it made no difference to the chill-looking purplish tint of -Mrs. Waules face, which was as neutral as her voice; having mere -chinks for eyes, and lips that hardly moved in speaking. - -The doctors cant master that cough, brother. Its just like what I -have; for Im your own sister, constitution and everything. But, as I -was saying, its a pity Mrs. Vincys family cant be better conducted. - -Tchah! you said nothing o the sort. You said somebody had made free -with my name. - -And no more than can be proved, if what everybody says is true. My -brother Solomon tells me its the talk up and down in Middlemarch how -unsteady young Vincy is, and has been forever gambling at billiards -since home he came. - -Nonsense! Whats a game at billiards? Its a good gentlemanly game; -and young Vincy is not a clodhopper. If your son John took to -billiards, now, hed make a fool of himself. - -Your nephew John never took to billiards or any other game, brother, -and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, if what everybody -says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Vincy the -fathers pocket. For they say hes been losing money for years, though -nobody would think so, to see him go coursing and keeping open house as -they do. And Ive heard say Mr. Bulstrode condemns Mrs. Vincy beyond -anything for her flightiness, and spoiling her children so. - -Whats Bulstrode to me? I dont bank with him. - -Well, Mrs. Bulstrode is Mr. Vincys own sister, and they do say that -Mr. Vincy mostly trades on the Bank money; and you may see yourself, -brother, when a woman past forty has pink strings always flying, and -that light way of laughing at everything, its very unbecoming. But -indulging your children is one thing, and finding money to pay their -debts is another. And its openly said that young Vincy has raised -money on his expectations. I dont say what expectations. Miss Garth -hears me, and is welcome to tell again. I know young people hang -together. - -No, thank you, Mrs. Waule, said Mary Garth. I dislike hearing -scandal too much to wish to repeat it. - -Mr. Featherstone rubbed the knob of his stick and made a brief -convulsive show of laughter, which had much the same genuineness as an -old whist-players chuckle over a bad hand. Still looking at the fire, -he said - -And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasnt got expectations? Such a -fine, spirited fellow is like enough to have em. - -There was a slight pause before Mrs. Waule replied, and when she did -so, her voice seemed to be slightly moistened with tears, though her -face was still dry. - -Whether or no, brother, it is naturally painful to me and my brother -Solomon to hear your name made free with, and your complaint being such -as may carry you off sudden, and people who are no more Featherstones -than the Merry-Andrew at the fair, openly reckoning on your property -coming to _them_. And me your own sister, and Solomon your own brother! -And if thats to be it, what has it pleased the Almighty to make -families for? Here Mrs. Waules tears fell, but with moderation. - -Come, out with it, Jane! said Mr. Featherstone, looking at her. You -mean to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money -on what he says he knows about my will, eh? - -I never said so, brother (Mrs. Waules voice had again become dry and -unshaken). It was told me by my brother Solomon last night when he -called coming from market to give me advice about the old wheat, me -being a widow, and my son John only three-and-twenty, though steady -beyond anything. And he had it from most undeniable authority, and not -one, but many. - -Stuff and nonsense! I dont believe a word of it. Its all a got-up -story. Go to the window, missy; I thought I heard a horse. See if the -doctors coming. - -Not got up by me, brother, nor yet by Solomon, who, whatever else he -may beand I dont deny he has odditieshas made his will and parted -his property equal between such kin as hes friends with; though, for -my part, I think there are times when some should be considered more -than others. But Solomon makes it no secret what he means to do. - -The more fool he! said Mr. Featherstone, with some difficulty; -breaking into a severe fit of coughing that required Mary Garth to -stand near him, so that she did not find out whose horses they were -which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. - -Before Mr. Featherstones cough was quiet, Rosamond entered, bearing up -her riding-habit with much grace. She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. -Waule, who said stiffly, How do you do, miss? smiled and nodded -silently to Mary, and remained standing till the coughing should cease, -and allow her uncle to notice her. - -Heyday, miss! he said at last, you have a fine color. Wheres Fred? - -Seeing about the horses. He will be in presently. - -Sit down, sit down. Mrs. Waule, youd better go. - -Even those neighbors who had called Peter Featherstone an old fox, had -never accused him of being insincerely polite, and his sister was quite -used to the peculiar absence of ceremony with which he marked his sense -of blood-relationship. Indeed, she herself was accustomed to think that -entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in -the Almightys intentions about families. She rose slowly without any -sign of resentment, and said in her usual muffled monotone, Brother, I -hope the new doctor will be able to do something for you. Solomon says -theres great talk of his cleverness. Im sure its my wish you should -be spared. And theres none more ready to nurse you than your own -sister and your own nieces, if youd only say the word. Theres -Rebecca, and Joanna, and Elizabeth, you know. - -Ay, ay, I rememberyoull see Ive remembered em allall dark and -ugly. Theyd need have some money, eh? There never was any beauty in -the women of our family; but the Featherstones have always had some -money, and the Waules too. Waule had money too. A warm man was Waule. -Ay, ay; moneys a good egg; and if youve got money to leave behind -you, lay it in a warm nest. Good-by, Mrs. Waule. Here Mr. Featherstone -pulled at both sides of his wig as if he wanted to deafen himself, and -his sister went away ruminating on this oracular speech of his. -Notwithstanding her jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, there -remained as the nethermost sediment in her mental shallows a persuasion -that her brother Peter Featherstone could never leave his chief -property away from his blood-relations:else, why had the Almighty -carried off his two wives both childless, after he had gained so much -by manganese and things, turning up when nobody expected it?and why -was there a Lowick parish church, and the Waules and Powderells all -sitting in the same pew for generations, and the Featherstone pew next -to them, if, the Sunday after her brother Peters death, everybody was -to know that the property was gone out of the family? The human mind -has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result -was not strictly conceivable. But we are frightened at much that is not -strictly conceivable. - -When Fred came in the old man eyed him with a peculiar twinkle, which -the younger had often had reason to interpret as pride in the -satisfactory details of his appearance. - -You two misses go away, said Mr. Featherstone. I want to speak to -Fred. - -Come into my room, Rosamond, you will not mind the cold for a little -while, said Mary. The two girls had not only known each other in -childhood, but had been at the same provincial school together (Mary as -an articled pupil), so that they had many memories in common, and liked -very well to talk in private. Indeed, this _tte--tte_ was one of -Rosamonds objects in coming to Stone Court. - -Old Featherstone would not begin the dialogue till the door had been -closed. He continued to look at Fred with the same twinkle and with one -of his habitual grimaces, alternately screwing and widening his mouth; -and when he spoke, it was in a low tone, which might be taken for that -of an informer ready to be bought off, rather than for the tone of an -offended senior. He was not a man to feel any strong moral indignation -even on account of trespasses against himself. It was natural that -others should want to get an advantage over him, but then, he was a -little too cunning for them. - -So, sir, youve been paying ten per cent for money which youve -promised to pay off by mortgaging my land when Im dead and gone, eh? -You put my life at a twelvemonth, say. But I can alter my will yet. - -Fred blushed. He had not borrowed money in that way, for excellent -reasons. But he was conscious of having spoken with some confidence -(perhaps with more than he exactly remembered) about his prospect of -getting Featherstones land as a future means of paying present debts. - -I dont know what you refer to, sir. I have certainly never borrowed -any money on such an insecurity. Please do explain. - -No, sir, its you must explain. I can alter my will yet, let me tell -you. Im of sound mindcan reckon compound interest in my head, and -remember every fools name as well as I could twenty years ago. What -the deuce? Im under eighty. I say, you must contradict this story. - -I have contradicted it, sir, Fred answered, with a touch of -impatience, not remembering that his uncle did not verbally -discriminate contradicting from disproving, though no one was further -from confounding the two ideas than old Featherstone, who often -wondered that so many fools took his own assertions for proofs. But I -contradict it again. The story is a silly lie. - -Nonsense! you must bring dockiments. It comes from authority. - -Name the authority, and make him name the man of whom I borrowed the -money, and then I can disprove the story. - -Its pretty good authority, I thinka man who knows most of what goes -on in Middlemarch. Its that fine, religious, charitable uncle o -yours. Come now! Here Mr. Featherstone had his peculiar inward shake -which signified merriment. - -Mr. Bulstrode? - -Who else, eh? - -Then the story has grown into this lie out of some sermonizing words -he may have let fall about me. Do they pretend that he named the man -who lent me the money? - -If there is such a man, depend upon it Bulstrode knows him. But, -supposing you only tried to get the money lent, and didnt get -itBulstrode ud know that too. You bring me a writing from Bulstrode -to say he doesnt believe youve ever promised to pay your debts out o -my land. Come now! - -Mr. Featherstones face required its whole scale of grimaces as a -muscular outlet to his silent triumph in the soundness of his -faculties. - -Fred felt himself to be in a disgusting dilemma. - -You must be joking, sir. Mr. Bulstrode, like other men, believes -scores of things that are not true, and he has a prejudice against me. -I could easily get him to write that he knew no facts in proof of the -report you speak of, though it might lead to unpleasantness. But I -could hardly ask him to write down what he believes or does not believe -about me. Fred paused an instant, and then added, in politic appeal to -his uncles vanity, That is hardly a thing for a gentleman to ask. -But he was disappointed in the result. - -Ay, I know what you mean. Youd sooner offend me than Bulstrode. And -whats he?hes got no land hereabout that ever I heard tell of. A -speckilating fellow! He may come down any day, when the devil leaves -off backing him. And thats what his religion means: he wants God -Amighty to come in. Thats nonsense! Theres one thing I made out -pretty clear when I used to go to churchand its this: God Amighty -sticks to the land. He promises land, and He gives land, and He makes -chaps rich with corn and cattle. But you take the other side. You like -Bulstrode and speckilation better than Featherstone and land. - -I beg your pardon, sir, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to -the fire and beating his boot with his whip. I like neither Bulstrode -nor speculation. He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated. - -Well, well, you can do without me, thats pretty clear, said old -Featherstone, secretly disliking the possibility that Fred would show -himself at all independent. You neither want a bit of land to make a -squire of you instead of a starving parson, nor a lift of a hundred -pound by the way. Its all one to me. I can make five codicils if I -like, and I shall keep my bank-notes for a nest-egg. Its all one to -me. - -Fred colored again. Featherstone had rarely given him presents of -money, and at this moment it seemed almost harder to part with the -immediate prospect of bank-notes than with the more distant prospect of -the land. - -I am not ungrateful, sir. I never meant to show disregard for any kind -intentions you might have towards me. On the contrary. - -Very good. Then prove it. You bring me a letter from Bulstrode saying -he doesnt believe youve been cracking and promising to pay your debts -out o my land, and then, if theres any scrape youve got into, well -see if I cant back you a bit. Come now! Thats a bargain. Here, give -me your arm. Ill try and walk round the room. - -Fred, in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to be a -little sorry for the unloved, unvenerated old man, who with his -dropsical legs looked more than usually pitiable in walking. While -giving his arm, he thought that he should not himself like to be an old -fellow with his constitution breaking up; and he waited -good-temperedly, first before the window to hear the wonted remarks -about the guinea-fowls and the weather-cock, and then before the scanty -book-shelves, of which the chief glories in dark calf were Josephus, -Culpepper, Klopstocks Messiah, and several volumes of the -Gentlemans Magazine. - -Read me the names o the books. Come now! youre a college man. - -Fred gave him the titles. - -What did missy want with more books? What must you be bringing her -more books for? - -They amuse her, sir. She is very fond of reading. - -A little too fond, said Mr. Featherstone, captiously. She was for -reading when she sat with me. But I put a stop to that. Shes got the -newspaper to read out loud. Thats enough for one day, I should think. -I cant abide to see her reading to herself. You mind and not bring her -any more books, do you hear? - -Yes, sir, I hear. Fred had received this order before, and had -secretly disobeyed it. He intended to disobey it again. - -Ring the bell, said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down. - -Rosamond and Mary had been talking faster than their male friends. They -did not think of sitting down, but stood at the toilet-table near the -window while Rosamond took off her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied -little touches of her finger-tips to her hairhair of infantine -fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. Mary Garth seemed all the plainer -standing at an angle between the two nymphsthe one in the glass, and -the one out of it, who looked at each other with eyes of heavenly blue, -deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder -could put into them, and deep enough to hide the meanings of the owner -if these should happen to be less exquisite. Only a few children in -Middlemarch looked blond by the side of Rosamond, and the slim figure -displayed by her riding-habit had delicate undulations. In fact, most -men in Middlemarch, except her brothers, held that Miss Vincy was the -best girl in the world, and some called her an angel. Mary Garth, on -the contrary, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her -curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it -would not be true to declare, in satisfactory antithesis, that she had -all the virtues. Plainness has its peculiar temptations and vices quite -as much as beauty; it is apt either to feign amiability, or, not -feigning it, to show all the repulsiveness of discontent: at any rate, -to be called an ugly thing in contrast with that lovely creature your -companion, is apt to produce some effect beyond a sense of fine -veracity and fitness in the phrase. At the age of two-and-twenty Mary -had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle -which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if they -were to be obtained in quantities ready mixed, with a flavor of -resignation as required. Her shrewdness had a streak of satiric -bitterness continually renewed and never carried utterly out of sight, -except by a strong current of gratitude towards those who, instead of -telling her that she ought to be contented, did something to make her -so. Advancing womanhood had tempered her plainness, which was of a good -human sort, such as the mothers of our race have very commonly worn in -all latitudes under a more or less becoming headgear. Rembrandt would -have painted her with pleasure, and would have made her broad features -look out of the canvas with intelligent honesty. For honesty, -truth-telling fairness, was Marys reigning virtue: she neither tried -to create illusions, nor indulged in them for her own behoof, and when -she was in a good mood she had humor enough in her to laugh at herself. -When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass, she -said, laughingly - -What a brown patch I am by the side of you, Rosy! You are the most -unbecoming companion. - -Oh no! No one thinks of your appearance, you are so sensible and -useful, Mary. Beauty is of very little consequence in reality, said -Rosamond, turning her head towards Mary, but with eyes swerving towards -the new view of her neck in the glass. - -You mean _my_ beauty, said Mary, rather sardonically. - -Rosamond thought, Poor Mary, she takes the kindest things ill. Aloud -she said, What have you been doing lately? - -I? Oh, minding the housepouring out syruppretending to be amiable -and contentedlearning to have a bad opinion of everybody. - -It is a wretched life for you. - -No, said Mary, curtly, with a little toss of her head. I think my -life is pleasanter than your Miss Morgans. - -Yes; but Miss Morgan is so uninteresting, and not young. - -She is interesting to herself, I suppose; and I am not at all sure -that everything gets easier as one gets older. - -No, said Rosamond, reflectively; one wonders what such people do, -without any prospect. To be sure, there is religion as a support. But, -she added, dimpling, it is very different with you, Mary. You may have -an offer. - -Has any one told you he means to make me one? - -Of course not. I mean, there is a gentleman who may fall in love with -you, seeing you almost every day. - -A certain change in Marys face was chiefly determined by the resolve -not to show any change. - -Does that always make people fall in love? she answered, carelessly; -it seems to me quite as often a reason for detesting each other. - -Not when they are interesting and agreeable. I hear that Mr. Lydgate -is both. - -Oh, Mr. Lydgate! said Mary, with an unmistakable lapse into -indifference. You want to know something about him, she added, not -choosing to indulge Rosamonds indirectness. - -Merely, how you like him. - -There is no question of liking at present. My liking always wants some -little kindness to kindle it. I am not magnanimous enough to like -people who speak to me without seeming to see me. - -Is he so haughty? said Rosamond, with heightened satisfaction. You -know that he is of good family? - -No; he did not give that as a reason. - -Mary! you are the oddest girl. But what sort of looking man is he? -Describe him to me. - -How can one describe a man? I can give you an inventory: heavy -eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid -white handsandlet me seeoh, an exquisite cambric -pocket-handkerchief. But you will see him. You know this is about the -time of his visits. - -Rosamond blushed a little, but said, meditatively, I rather like a -haughty manner. I cannot endure a rattling young man. - -I did not tell you that Mr. Lydgate was haughty; but _il y en a pour -tous les gots_, as little Mamselle used to say, and if any girl can -choose the particular sort of conceit she would like, I should think it -is you, Rosy. - -Haughtiness is not conceit; I call Fred conceited. - -I wish no one said any worse of him. He should be more careful. Mrs. -Waule has been telling uncle that Fred is very unsteady. Mary spoke -from a girlish impulse which got the better of her judgment. There was -a vague uneasiness associated with the word unsteady which she hoped -Rosamond might say something to dissipate. But she purposely abstained -from mentioning Mrs. Waules more special insinuation. - -Oh, Fred is horrid! said Rosamond. She would not have allowed herself -so unsuitable a word to any one but Mary. - -What do you mean by horrid? - -He is so idle, and makes papa so angry, and says he will not take -orders. - -I think Fred is quite right. - -How can you say he is quite right, Mary? I thought you had more sense -of religion. - -He is not fit to be a clergyman. - -But he ought to be fit.Well, then, he is not what he ought to be. I -know some other people who are in the same case. - -But no one approves of them. I should not like to marry a clergyman; -but there must be clergymen. - -It does not follow that Fred must be one. - -But when papa has been at the expense of educating him for it! And -only suppose, if he should have no fortune left him? - -I can suppose that very well, said Mary, dryly. - -Then I wonder you can defend Fred, said Rosamond, inclined to push -this point. - -I dont defend him, said Mary, laughing; I would defend any parish -from having him for a clergyman. - -But of course if he were a clergyman, he must be different. - -Yes, he would be a great hypocrite; and he is not that yet. - -It is of no use saying anything to you, Mary. You always take Freds -part. - -Why should I not take his part? said Mary, lighting up. He would -take mine. He is the only person who takes the least trouble to oblige -me. - -You make me feel very uncomfortable, Mary, said Rosamond, with her -gravest mildness; I would not tell mamma for the world. - -What would you not tell her? said Mary, angrily. - -Pray do not go into a rage, Mary, said Rosamond, mildly as ever. - -If your mamma is afraid that Fred will make me an offer, tell her that -I would not marry him if he asked me. But he is not going to do so, -that I am aware. He certainly never has asked me. - -Mary, you are always so violent. - -And you are always so exasperating. - -I? What can you blame me for? - -Oh, blameless people are always the most exasperating. There is the -bellI think we must go down. - -I did not mean to quarrel, said Rosamond, putting on her hat. - -Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. If one is not to get into a -rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends? - -Am I to repeat what you have said? - -Just as you please. I never say what I am afraid of having repeated. -But let us go down. - -Mr. Lydgate was rather late this morning, but the visitors stayed long -enough to see him; for Mr. Featherstone asked Rosamond to sing to him, -and she herself was so kind as to propose a second favorite song of -hisFlow on, thou shining riverafter she had sung Home, sweet home -(which she detested). This hard-headed old Overreach approved of the -sentimental song, as the suitable garnish for girls, and also as -fundamentally fine, sentiment being the right thing for a song. - -Mr. Featherstone was still applauding the last performance, and -assuring missy that her voice was as clear as a blackbirds, when Mr. -Lydgates horse passed the window. - -His dull expectation of the usual disagreeable routine with an aged -patientwho can hardly believe that medicine would not set him up if -the doctor were only clever enoughadded to his general disbelief in -Middlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this vision -of Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously to -introduce as his niece, though he had never thought it worth while to -speak of Mary Garth in that light. Nothing escaped Lydgate in -Rosamonds graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the notice -which the old mans want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet -gravity, not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing -them afterwards in speaking to Mary, to whom she addressed herself with -so much good-natured interest, that Lydgate, after quickly examining -Mary more fully than he had done before, saw an adorable kindness in -Rosamonds eyes. But Mary from some cause looked rather out of temper. - -Miss Rosy has been singing me a songyouve nothing to say against -that, eh, doctor? said Mr. Featherstone. I like it better than your -physic. - -That has made me forget how the time was going, said Rosamond, rising -to reach her hat, which she had laid aside before singing, so that her -flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above her -riding-habit. Fred, we must really go. - -Very good, said Fred, who had his own reasons for not being in the -best spirits, and wanted to get away. - -Miss Vincy is a musician? said Lydgate, following her with his eyes. -(Every nerve and muscle in Rosamond was adjusted to the consciousness -that she was being looked at. She was by nature an actress of parts -that entered into her _physique:_ she even acted her own character, and -so well, that she did not know it to be precisely her own.) - -The best in Middlemarch, Ill be bound, said Mr. Featherstone, let -the next be who she will. Eh, Fred? Speak up for your sister. - -Im afraid Im out of court, sir. My evidence would be good for -nothing. - -Middlemarch has not a very high standard, uncle, said Rosamond, with -a pretty lightness, going towards her whip, which lay at a distance. - -Lydgate was quick in anticipating her. He reached the whip before she -did, and turned to present it to her. She bowed and looked at him: he -of course was looking at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar -meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden -divine clearance of haze. I think Lydgate turned a little paler than -usual, but Rosamond blushed deeply and felt a certain astonishment. -After that, she was really anxious to go, and did not know what sort of -stupidity her uncle was talking of when she went to shake hands with -him. - -Yet this result, which she took to be a mutual impression, called -falling in love, was just what Rosamond had contemplated beforehand. -Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven a -little future, of which something like this scene was the necessary -beginning. Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly -escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had a -circumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native -merit has urged itself in vain. And a stranger was absolutely necessary -to Rosamonds social romance, which had always turned on a lover and -bridegroom who was not a Middlemarcher, and who had no connections at -all like her own: of late, indeed, the construction seemed to demand -that he should somehow be related to a baronet. Now that she and the -stranger had met, reality proved much more moving than anticipation, -and Rosamond could not doubt that this was the great epoch of her life. -She judged of her own symptoms as those of awakening love, and she held -it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate should have fallen in love at -first sight of her. These things happened so often at balls, and why -not by the morning light, when the complexion showed all the better for -it? Rosamond, though no older than Mary, was rather used to being -fallen in love with; but she, for her part, had remained indifferent -and fastidiously critical towards both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. -And here was Mr. Lydgate suddenly corresponding to her ideal, being -altogether foreign to Middlemarch, carrying a certain air of -distinction congruous with good family, and possessing connections -which offered vistas of that middle-class heaven, rank; a man of -talent, also, whom it would be especially delightful to enslave: in -fact, a man who had touched her nature quite newly, and brought a vivid -interest into her life which was better than any fancied might-be -such as she was in the habit of opposing to the actual. - -Thus, in riding home, both the brother and the sister were preoccupied -and inclined to be silent. Rosamond, whose basis for her structure had -the usual airy slightness, was of remarkably detailed and realistic -imagination when the foundation had been once presupposed; and before -they had ridden a mile she was far on in the costume and introductions -of her wedded life, having determined on her house in Middlemarch, and -foreseen the visits she would pay to her husbands high-bred relatives -at a distance, whose finished manners she could appropriate as -thoroughly as she had done her school accomplishments, preparing -herself thus for vaguer elevations which might ultimately come. There -was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared -about what were considered refinements, and not about the money that -was to pay for them. - -Freds mind, on the other hand, was busy with an anxiety which even his -ready hopefulness could not immediately quell. He saw no way of eluding -Featherstones stupid demand without incurring consequences which he -liked less even than the task of fulfilling it. His father was already -out of humor with him, and would be still more so if he were the -occasion of any additional coolness between his own family and the -Bulstrodes. Then, he himself hated having to go and speak to his uncle -Bulstrode, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolish -things about Featherstones property, and these had been magnified by -report. Fred felt that he made a wretched figure as a fellow who -bragged about expectations from a queer old miser like Featherstone, -and went to beg for certificates at his bidding. Butthose -expectations! He really had them, and he saw no agreeable alternative -if he gave them up; besides, he had lately made a debt which galled him -extremely, and old Featherstone had almost bargained to pay it off. The -whole affair was miserably small: his debts were small, even his -expectations were not anything so very magnificent. Fred had known men -to whom he would have been ashamed of confessing the smallness of his -scrapes. Such ruminations naturally produced a streak of misanthropic -bitterness. To be born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and -inevitable heir to nothing in particular, while such men as Mainwaring -and Vyancertainly life was a poor business, when a spirited young -fellow, with a good appetite for the best of everything, had so poor an -outlook. - -It had not occurred to Fred that the introduction of Bulstrodes name -in the matter was a fiction of old Featherstones; nor could this have -made any difference to his position. He saw plainly enough that the old -man wanted to exercise his power by tormenting him a little, and also -probably to get some satisfaction out of seeing him on unpleasant terms -with Bulstrode. Fred fancied that he saw to the bottom of his uncle -Featherstones soul, though in reality half what he saw there was no -more than the reflex of his own inclinations. The difficult task of -knowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is -chiefly made up of their own wishes. - -Freds main point of debate with himself was, whether he should tell -his father, or try to get through the affair without his fathers -knowledge. It was probably Mrs. Waule who had been talking about him; -and if Mary Garth had repeated Mrs. Waules report to Rosamond, it -would be sure to reach his father, who would as surely question him -about it. He said to Rosamond, as they slackened their pace - -Rosy, did Mary tell you that Mrs. Waule had said anything about me? - -Yes, indeed, she did. - -What? - -That you were very unsteady. - -Was that all? - -I should think that was enough, Fred. - -You are sure she said no more? - -Mary mentioned nothing else. But really, Fred, I think you ought to be -ashamed. - -Oh, fudge! Dont lecture me. What did Mary say about it? - -I am not obliged to tell you. You care so very much what Mary says, -and you are too rude to allow me to speak. - -Of course I care what Mary says. She is the best girl I know. - -I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love with. - -How do you know what men would fall in love with? Girls never know. - -At least, Fred, let me advise _you_ not to fall in love with her, for -she says she would not marry you if you asked her. - -She might have waited till I did ask her. - -I knew it would nettle you, Fred. - -Not at all. She would not have said so if you had not provoked her. -Before reaching home, Fred concluded that he would tell the whole -affair as simply as possible to his father, who might perhaps take on -himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode. - - - - -BOOK II. -OLD AND YOUNG. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -1_st Gent_. How class your man?as better than the most, - Or, seeming better, worse beneath that cloak? - As saint or knave, pilgrim or hypocrite? - -2_d Gent_. Nay, tell me how you class your wealth of books - The drifted relics of all time. - As well sort them at once by size and livery: - Vellum, tall copies, and the common calf - Will hardly cover more diversity - Than all your labels cunningly devised - To class your unread authors. - - -In consequence of what he had heard from Fred, Mr. Vincy determined to -speak with Mr. Bulstrode in his private room at the Bank at half-past -one, when he was usually free from other callers. But a visitor had -come in at one oclock, and Mr. Bulstrode had so much to say to him, -that there was little chance of the interview being over in half an -hour. The bankers speech was fluent, but it was also copious, and he -used up an appreciable amount of time in brief meditative pauses. Do -not imagine his sickly aspect to have been of the yellow, black-haired -sort: he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, -light-gray eyes, and a large forehead. Loud men called his subdued tone -an undertone, and sometimes implied that it was inconsistent with -openness; though there seems to be no reason why a loud man should not -be given to concealment of anything except his own voice, unless it can -be shown that Holy Writ has placed the seat of candor in the lungs. Mr. -Bulstrode had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an -apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those persons who -thought themselves worth hearing infer that he was seeking the utmost -improvement from their discourse. Others, who expected to make no great -figure, disliked this kind of moral lantern turned on them. If you are -not proud of your cellar, there is no thrill of satisfaction in seeing -your guest hold up his wine-glass to the light and look judicial. Such -joys are reserved for conscious merit. Hence Mr. Bulstrodes close -attention was not agreeable to the publicans and sinners in -Middlemarch; it was attributed by some to his being a Pharisee, and by -others to his being Evangelical. Less superficial reasoners among them -wished to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that -five-and-twenty years ago nobody had ever heard of a Bulstrode in -Middlemarch. To his present visitor, Lydgate, the scrutinizing look was -a matter of indifference: he simply formed an unfavorable opinion of -the bankers constitution, and concluded that he had an eager inward -life with little enjoyment of tangible things. - -I shall be exceedingly obliged if you will look in on me here -occasionally, Mr. Lydgate, the banker observed, after a brief pause. -If, as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of finding you a valuable -coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will -be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private. As to the -new hospital, which is nearly finished, I shall consider what you have -said about the advantages of the special destination for fevers. The -decision will rest with me, for though Lord Medlicote has given the -land and timber for the building, he is not disposed to give his -personal attention to the object. - -There are few things better worth the pains in a provincial town like -this, said Lydgate. A fine fever hospital in addition to the old -infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we -get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education -than the spread of such schools over the country? A born provincial man -who has a grain of public spirit as well as a few ideas, should do what -he can to resist the rush of everything that is a little better than -common towards London. Any valid professional aims may often find a -freer, if not a richer field, in the provinces. - -One of Lydgates gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet -capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. About his -ordinary bearing there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation of -success, a confidence in his own powers and integrity much fortified by -contempt for petty obstacles or seductions of which he had had no -experience. But this proud openness was made lovable by an expression -of unaffected good-will. Mr. Bulstrode perhaps liked him the better for -the difference between them in pitch and manners; he certainly liked -him the better, as Rosamond did, for being a stranger in Middlemarch. -One can begin so many things with a new person!even begin to be a -better man. - -I shall rejoice to furnish your zeal with fuller opportunities, Mr. -Bulstrode answered; I mean, by confiding to you the superintendence of -my new hospital, should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I am -determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our two -physicians. Indeed, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this -town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to -be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much withstood. With -regard to the old infirmary, we have gained the initial pointI mean -your election. And now I hope you will not shrink from incurring a -certain amount of jealousy and dislike from your professional brethren -by presenting yourself as a reformer. - -I will not profess bravery, said Lydgate, smiling, but I acknowledge -a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and I should not care for my -profession, if I did not believe that better methods were to be found -and enforced there as well as everywhere else. - -The standard of that profession is low in Middlemarch, my dear sir, -said the banker. I mean in knowledge and skill; not in social status, -for our medical men are most of them connected with respectable -townspeople here. My own imperfect health has induced me to give some -attention to those palliative resources which the divine mercy has -placed within our reach. I have consulted eminent men in the -metropolis, and I am painfully aware of the backwardness under which -medical treatment labors in our provincial districts. - -Yes;with our present medical rules and education, one must be -satisfied now and then to meet with a fair practitioner. As to all the -higher questions which determine the starting-point of a diagnosisas -to the philosophy of medical evidenceany glimmering of these can only -come from a scientific culture of which country practitioners have -usually no more notion than the man in the moon. - -Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the form which -Lydgate had given to his agreement not quite suited to his -comprehension. Under such circumstances a judicious man changes the -topic and enters on ground where his own gifts may be more useful. - -I am aware, he said, that the peculiar bias of medical ability is -towards material means. Nevertheless, Mr. Lydgate, I hope we shall not -vary in sentiment as to a measure in which you are not likely to be -actively concerned, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be an -aid to me. You recognize, I hope; the existence of spiritual interests -in your patients? - -Certainly I do. But those words are apt to cover different meanings to -different minds. - -Precisely. And on such subjects wrong teaching is as fatal as no -teaching. Now a point which I have much at heart to secure is a new -regulation as to clerical attendance at the old infirmary. The building -stands in Mr. Farebrothers parish. You know Mr. Farebrother? - -I have seen him. He gave me his vote. I must call to thank him. He -seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. And I understand he is a -naturalist. - -Mr. Farebrother, my dear sir, is a man deeply painful to contemplate. -I suppose there is not a clergyman in this country who has greater -talents. Mr. Bulstrode paused and looked meditative. - -I have not yet been pained by finding any excessive talent in -Middlemarch, said Lydgate, bluntly. - -What I desire, Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, -is that Mr. Farebrothers attendance at the hospital should be -superseded by the appointment of a chaplainof Mr. Tyke, in factand -that no other spiritual aid should be called in. - -As a medical man I could have no opinion on such a point unless I knew -Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he -was applied. Lydgate smiled, but he was bent on being circumspect. - -Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of this measure at -present. Buthere Mr. Bulstrode began to speak with a more chiselled -emphasisthe subject is likely to be referred to the medical board of -the infirmary, and what I trust I may ask of you is, that in virtue of -the cooperation between us which I now look forward to, you will not, -so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my opponents in this -matter. - -I hope I shall have nothing to do with clerical disputes, said -Lydgate. The path I have chosen is to work well in my own profession. - -My responsibility, Mr. Lydgate, is of a broader kind. With me, indeed, -this question is one of sacred accountableness; whereas with my -opponents, I have good reason to say that it is an occasion for -gratifying a spirit of worldly opposition. But I shall not therefore -drop one iota of my convictions, or cease to identify myself with that -truth which an evil generation hates. I have devoted myself to this -object of hospital-improvement, but I will boldly confess to you, Mr. -Lydgate, that I should have no interest in hospitals if I believed that -nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. I -have another ground of action, and in the face of persecution I will -not conceal it. - -Mr. Bulstrodes voice had become a loud and agitated whisper as he said -the last words. - -There we certainly differ, said Lydgate. But he was not sorry that -the door was now opened, and Mr. Vincy was announced. That florid -sociable personage was become more interesting to him since he had seen -Rosamond. Not that, like her, he had been weaving any future in which -their lots were united; but a man naturally remembers a charming girl -with pleasure, and is willing to dine where he may see her again. -Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy had given that invitation which he had -been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that -she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor into great -favor. - -Mr. Bulstrode, alone with his brother-in-law, poured himself out a -glass of water, and opened a sandwich-box. - -I cannot persuade you to adopt my regimen, Vincy? - -No, no; Ive no opinion of that system. Life wants padding, said Mr. -Vincy, unable to omit his portable theory. However, he went on, -accenting the word, as if to dismiss all irrelevance, what I came here -to talk about was a little affair of my young scapegrace, Freds. - -That is a subject on which you and I are likely to take quite as -different views as on diet, Vincy. - -I hope not this time. (Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored.) -The fact is, its about a whim of old Featherstones. Somebody has -been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old man, to -try to set him against Fred. Hes very fond of Fred, and is likely to -do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as told Fred that -he means to leave him his land, and that makes other people jealous. - -Vincy, I must repeat, that you will not get any concurrence from me as -to the course you have pursued with your eldest son. It was entirely -from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family -of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting -money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in -giving him extravagant idle habits. You are now reaping the -consequences. - -To point out other peoples errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode rarely -shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was not equally prepared to be patient. When -a man has the immediate prospect of being mayor, and is ready, in the -interests of commerce, to take up a firm attitude on politics -generally, he has naturally a sense of his importance to the framework -of things which seems to throw questions of private conduct into the -background. And this particular reproof irritated him more than any -other. It was eminently superfluous to him to be told that he was -reaping the consequences. But he felt his neck under Bulstrodes yoke; -and though he usually enjoyed kicking, he was anxious to refrain from -that relief. - -As to that, Bulstrode, its no use going back. Im not one of your -pattern men, and I dont pretend to be. I couldnt foresee everything -in the trade; there wasnt a finer business in Middlemarch than ours, -and the lad was clever. My poor brother was in the Church, and would -have done wellhad got preferment already, but that stomach fever took -him off: else he might have been a dean by this time. I think I was -justified in what I tried to do for Fred. If you come to religion, it -seems to me a man shouldnt want to carve out his meat to an ounce -beforehand:one must trust a little to Providence and be generous. Its -a good British feeling to try and raise your family a little: in my -opinion, its a fathers duty to give his sons a fine chance. - -I dont wish to act otherwise than as your best friend, Vincy, when I -say that what you have been uttering just now is one mass of -worldliness and inconsistent folly. - -Very well, said Mr. Vincy, kicking in spite of resolutions, I never -professed to be anything but worldly; and, whats more, I dont see -anybody else who is not worldly. I suppose you dont conduct business -on what you call unworldly principles. The only difference I see is -that one worldliness is a little bit honester than another. - -This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy, said Mr. Bulstrode, -who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown himself back in his chair, and -shaded his eyes as if weary. You had some more particular business. - -Yes, yes. The long and short of it is, somebody has told old -Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has been borrowing -or trying to borrow money on the prospect of his land. Of course you -never said any such nonsense. But the old fellow will insist on it that -Fred should bring him a denial in your handwriting; that is, just a bit -of a note saying you dont believe a word of such stuff, either of his -having borrowed or tried to borrow in such a fools way. I suppose you -can have no objection to do that. - -Pardon me. I have an objection. I am by no means sure that your son, -in his recklessness and ignoranceI will use no severer wordhas not -tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that -some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a -presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other -folly in the world. - -But Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed money on the -pretence of any understanding about his uncles land. He is not a liar. -I dont want to make him better than he is. I have blown him up -wellnobody can say I wink at what he does. But he is not a liar. And I -should have thoughtbut I may be wrongthat there was no religion to -hinder a man from believing the best of a young fellow, when you dont -know worse. It seems to me it would be a poor sort of religion to put a -spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you dont believe such harm of -him as youve got no good reason to believe. - -I am not at all sure that I should be befriending your son by -smoothing his way to the future possession of Featherstones property. -I cannot regard wealth as a blessing to those who use it simply as a -harvest for this world. You do not like to hear these things, Vincy, -but on this occasion I feel called upon to tell you that I have no -motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you -refer to. I do not shrink from saying that it will not tend to your -sons eternal welfare or to the glory of God. Why then should you -expect me to pen this kind of affidavit, which has no object but to -keep up a foolish partiality and secure a foolish bequest? - -If you mean to hinder everybody from having money but saints and -evangelists, you must give up some profitable partnerships, thats all -I can say, Mr. Vincy burst out very bluntly. It may be for the glory -of God, but it is not for the glory of the Middlemarch trade, that -Plymdales house uses those blue and green dyes it gets from the -Brassing manufactory; they rot the silk, thats all I know about it. -Perhaps if other people knew so much of the profit went to the glory of -God, they might like it better. But I dont mind so much about thatI -could get up a pretty row, if I chose. - -Mr. Bulstrode paused a little before he answered. You pain me very -much by speaking in this way, Vincy. I do not expect you to understand -my grounds of actionit is not an easy thing even to thread a path for -principles in the intricacies of the worldstill less to make the -thread clear for the careless and the scoffing. You must remember, if -you please, that I stretch my tolerance towards you as my wifes -brother, and that it little becomes you to complain of me as -withholding material help towards the worldly position of your family. -I must remind you that it is not your own prudence or judgment that has -enabled you to keep your place in the trade. - -Very likely not; but you have been no loser by my trade yet, said Mr. -Vincy, thoroughly nettled (a result which was seldom much retarded by -previous resolutions). And when you married Harriet, I dont see how -you could expect that our families should not hang by the same nail. If -youve changed your mind, and want my family to come down in the world, -youd better say so. Ive never changed; Im a plain Churchman now, -just as I used to be before doctrines came up. I take the world as I -find it, in trade and everything else. Im contented to be no worse -than my neighbors. But if you want us to come down in the world, say -so. I shall know better what to do then. - -You talk unreasonably. Shall you come down in the world for want of -this letter about your son? - -Well, whether or not, I consider it very unhandsome of you to refuse -it. Such doings may be lined with religion, but outside they have a -nasty, dog-in-the-manger look. You might as well slander Fred: it comes -pretty near to it when you refuse to say you didnt set a slander -going. Its this sort of thingthis tyrannical spirit, wanting to play -bishop and banker everywhereits this sort of thing makes a mans name -stink. - -Vincy, if you insist on quarrelling with me, it will be exceedingly -painful to Harriet as well as myself, said Mr. Bulstrode, with a -trifle more eagerness and paleness than usual. - -I dont want to quarrel. Its for my interestand perhaps for yours -toothat we should be friends. I bear you no grudge; I think no worse -of you than I do of other people. A man who half starves himself, and -goes the length in family prayers, and so on, that you do, believes in -his religion whatever it may be: you could turn over your capital just -as fast with cursing and swearing:plenty of fellows do. You like to be -master, theres no denying that; you must be first chop in heaven, else -you wont like it much. But youre my sisters husband, and we ought to -stick together; and if I know Harriet, shell consider it your fault if -we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this way, and refuse to do -Fred a good turn. And I dont mean to say I shall bear it well. I -consider it unhandsome. - -Mr. Vincy rose, began to button his great-coat, and looked steadily at -his brother-in-law, meaning to imply a demand for a decisive answer. - -This was not the first time that Mr. Bulstrode had begun by admonishing -Mr. Vincy, and had ended by seeing a very unsatisfactory reflection of -himself in the coarse unflattering mirror which that manufacturers -mind presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and -perhaps his experience ought to have warned him how the scene would -end. But a full-fed fountain will be generous with its waters even in -the rain, when they are worse than useless; and a fine fount of -admonition is apt to be equally irrepressible. - -It was not in Mr. Bulstrodes nature to comply directly in consequence -of uncomfortable suggestions. Before changing his course, he always -needed to shape his motives and bring them into accordance with his -habitual standard. He said, at last - -I will reflect a little, Vincy. I will mention the subject to Harriet. -I shall probably send you a letter. - -Very well. As soon as you can, please. I hope it will all be settled -before I see you to-morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -Follows here the strict receipt -For that sauce to dainty meat, -Named Idleness, which many eat -By preference, and call it sweet: -_First watch for morsels, like a hound -Mix well with buffets, stir them round -With good thick oil of flatteries, And froth with mean self-lauding -lies. -Serve warm: the vessels you must choose -To keep it in are dead mens shoes._ - - -Mr. Bulstrodes consultation of Harriet seemed to have had the effect -desired by Mr. Vincy, for early the next morning a letter came which -Fred could carry to Mr. Featherstone as the required testimony. - -The old gentleman was staying in bed on account of the cold weather, -and as Mary Garth was not to be seen in the sitting-room, Fred went -up-stairs immediately and presented the letter to his uncle, who, -propped up comfortably on a bed-rest, was not less able than usual to -enjoy his consciousness of wisdom in distrusting and frustrating -mankind. He put on his spectacles to read the letter, pursing up his -lips and drawing down their corners. - -_Under the circumstances I will not decline to state my -conviction_tchah! what fine words the fellow puts! Hes as fine as an -auctioneer_that your son Frederic has not obtained any advance of -money on bequests promised by Mr. Featherstone_promised? who said I -had ever promised? I promise nothingI shall make codicils as long as I -like_and that considering the nature of such a proceeding, it is -unreasonable to presume that a young man of sense and character would -attempt it_ah, but the gentleman doesnt say you are a young man of -sense and character, mark you that, sir!_As to my own concern with any -report of such a nature, I distinctly affirm that I never made any -statement to the effect that your son had borrowed money on any -property that might accrue to him on Mr. Featherstones demise_bless -my heart! propertyaccruedemise! Lawyer Standish is nothing to him. -He couldnt speak finer if he wanted to borrow. Well, Mr. Featherstone -here looked over his spectacles at Fred, while he handed back the -letter to him with a contemptuous gesture, you dont suppose I believe -a thing because Bulstrode writes it out fine, eh? - -Fred colored. You wished to have the letter, sir. I should think it -very likely that Mr. Bulstrodes denial is as good as the authority -which told you what he denies. - -Every bit. I never said I believed either one or the other. And now -what d you expect? said Mr. Featherstone, curtly, keeping on his -spectacles, but withdrawing his hands under his wraps. - -I expect nothing, sir. Fred with difficulty restrained himself from -venting his irritation. I came to bring you the letter. If you like I -will bid you good morning. - -Not yet, not yet. Ring the bell; I want missy to come. - -It was a servant who came in answer to the bell. - -Tell missy to come! said Mr. Featherstone, impatiently. What -business had she to go away? He spoke in the same tone when Mary came. - -Why couldnt you sit still here till I told you to go? I want my -waistcoat now. I told you always to put it on the bed. - -Marys eyes looked rather red, as if she had been crying. It was clear -that Mr. Featherstone was in one of his most snappish humors this -morning, and though Fred had now the prospect of receiving the -much-needed present of money, he would have preferred being free to -turn round on the old tyrant and tell him that Mary Garth was too good -to be at his beck. Though Fred had risen as she entered the room, she -had barely noticed him, and looked as if her nerves were quivering with -the expectation that something would be thrown at her. But she never -had anything worse than words to dread. When she went to reach the -waistcoat from a peg, Fred went up to her and said, Allow me. - -Let it alone! You bring it, missy, and lay it down here, said Mr. -Featherstone. Now you go away again till I call you, he added, when -the waistcoat was laid down by him. It was usual with him to season his -pleasure in showing favor to one person by being especially -disagreeable to another, and Mary was always at hand to furnish the -condiment. When his own relatives came she was treated better. Slowly -he took out a bunch of keys from the waistcoat pocket, and slowly he -drew forth a tin box which was under the bed-clothes. - -You expect I am going to give you a little fortune, eh? he said, -looking above his spectacles and pausing in the act of opening the lid. - -Not at all, sir. You were good enough to speak of making me a present -the other day, else, of course, I should not have thought of the -matter. But Fred was of a hopeful disposition, and a vision had -presented itself of a sum just large enough to deliver him from a -certain anxiety. When Fred got into debt, it always seemed to him -highly probable that something or otherhe did not necessarily conceive -whatwould come to pass enabling him to pay in due time. And now that -the providential occurrence was apparently close at hand, it would have -been sheer absurdity to think that the supply would be short of the -need: as absurd as a faith that believed in half a miracle for want of -strength to believe in a whole one. - -The deep-veined hands fingered many bank-notes one after the other, -laying them down flat again, while Fred leaned back in his chair, -scorning to look eager. He held himself to be a gentleman at heart, and -did not like courting an old fellow for his money. At last, Mr. -Featherstone eyed him again over his spectacles and presented him with -a little sheaf of notes: Fred could see distinctly that there were but -five, as the less significant edges gaped towards him. But then, each -might mean fifty pounds. He took them, saying - -I am very much obliged to you, sir, and was going to roll them up -without seeming to think of their value. But this did not suit Mr. -Featherstone, who was eying him intently. - -Come, dont you think it worth your while to count em? You take money -like a lord; I suppose you lose it like one. - -I thought I was not to look a gift-horse in the mouth, sir. But I -shall be very happy to count them. - -Fred was not so happy, however, after he had counted them. For they -actually presented the absurdity of being less than his hopefulness had -decided that they must be. What can the fitness of things mean, if not -their fitness to a mans expectations? Failing this, absurdity and -atheism gape behind him. The collapse for Fred was severe when he found -that he held no more than five twenties, and his share in the higher -education of this country did not seem to help him. Nevertheless he -said, with rapid changes in his fair complexion - -It is very handsome of you, sir. - -I should think it is, said Mr. Featherstone, locking his box and -replacing it, then taking off his spectacles deliberately, and at -length, as if his inward meditation had more deeply convinced him, -repeating, I should think it handsome. - -I assure you, sir, I am very grateful, said Fred, who had had time to -recover his cheerful air. - -So you ought to be. You want to cut a figure in the world, and I -reckon Peter Featherstone is the only one youve got to trust to. Here -the old mans eyes gleamed with a curiously mingled satisfaction in the -consciousness that this smart young fellow relied upon him, and that -the smart young fellow was rather a fool for doing so. - -Yes, indeed: I was not born to very splendid chances. Few men have -been more cramped than I have been, said Fred, with some sense of -surprise at his own virtue, considering how hardly he was dealt with. -It really seems a little too bad to have to ride a broken-winded -hunter, and see men, who, are not half such good judges as yourself, -able to throw away any amount of money on buying bad bargains. - -Well, you can buy yourself a fine hunter now. Eighty pound is enough -for that, I reckonand youll have twenty pound over to get yourself -out of any little scrape, said Mr. Featherstone, chuckling slightly. - -You are very good, sir, said Fred, with a fine sense of contrast -between the words and his feeling. - -Ay, rather a better uncle than your fine uncle Bulstrode. You wont -get much out of his spekilations, I think. Hes got a pretty strong -string round your fathers leg, by what I hear, eh? - -My father never tells me anything about his affairs, sir. - -Well, he shows some sense there. But other people find em out without -his telling. _Hell_ never have much to leave you: hell most-like die -without a willhes the sort of man to do itlet em make him mayor of -Middlemarch as much as they like. But you wont get much by his dying -without a will, though you _are_ the eldest son. - -Fred thought that Mr. Featherstone had never been so disagreeable -before. True, he had never before given him quite so much money at -once. - -Shall I destroy this letter of Mr. Bulstrodes, sir? said Fred, -rising with the letter as if he would put it in the fire. - -Ay, ay, I dont want it. Its worth no money to me. - -Fred carried the letter to the fire, and thrust the poker through it -with much zest. He longed to get out of the room, but he was a little -ashamed before his inner self, as well as before his uncle, to run away -immediately after pocketing the money. Presently, the farm-bailiff came -up to give his master a report, and Fred, to his unspeakable relief, -was dismissed with the injunction to come again soon. - -He had longed not only to be set free from his uncle, but also to find -Mary Garth. She was now in her usual place by the fire, with sewing in -her hands and a book open on the little table by her side. Her eyelids -had lost some of their redness now, and she had her usual air of -self-command. - -Am I wanted up-stairs? she said, half rising as Fred entered. - -No; I am only dismissed, because Simmons is gone up. - -Mary sat down again, and resumed her work. She was certainly treating -him with more indifference than usual: she did not know how -affectionately indignant he had felt on her behalf up-stairs. - -May I stay here a little, Mary, or shall I bore you? - -Pray sit down, said Mary; you will not be so heavy a bore as Mr. -John Waule, who was here yesterday, and he sat down without asking my -leave. - -Poor fellow! I think he is in love with you. - -I am not aware of it. And to me it is one of the most odious things in -a girls life, that there must always be some supposition of falling in -love coming between her and any man who is kind to her, and to whom she -is grateful. I should have thought that I, at least, might have been -safe from all that. I have no ground for the nonsensical vanity of -fancying everybody who comes near me is in love with me. - -Mary did not mean to betray any feeling, but in spite of herself she -ended in a tremulous tone of vexation. - -Confound John Waule! I did not mean to make you angry. I didnt know -you had any reason for being grateful to me. I forgot what a great -service you think it if any one snuffs a candle for you. Fred also had -his pride, and was not going to show that he knew what had called forth -this outburst of Marys. - -Oh, I am not angry, except with the ways of the world. I do like to be -spoken to as if I had common-sense. I really often feel as if I could -understand a little more than I ever hear even from young gentlemen who -have been to college. Mary had recovered, and she spoke with a -suppressed rippling under-current of laughter pleasant to hear. - -I dont care how merry you are at my expense this morning, said Fred, -I thought you looked so sad when you came up-stairs. It is a shame you -should stay here to be bullied in that way. - -Oh, I have an easy lifeby comparison. I have tried being a teacher, -and I am not fit for that: my mind is too fond of wandering on its own -way. I think any hardship is better than pretending to do what one is -paid for, and never really doing it. Everything here I can do as well -as any one else could; perhaps better than someRosy, for example. -Though she is just the sort of beautiful creature that is imprisoned -with ogres in fairy tales. - -_Rosy!_ cried Fred, in a tone of profound brotherly scepticism. - -Come, Fred! said Mary, emphatically; you have no right to be so -critical. - -Do you mean anything particularjust now? - -No, I mean something generalalways. - -Oh, that I am idle and extravagant. Well, I am not fit to be a poor -man. I should not have made a bad fellow if I had been rich. - -You would have done your duty in that state of life to which it has -not pleased God to call you, said Mary, laughing. - -Well, I couldnt do my duty as a clergyman, any more than you could do -yours as a governess. You ought to have a little fellow-feeling there, -Mary. - -I never said you ought to be a clergyman. There are other sorts of -work. It seems to me very miserable not to resolve on some course and -act accordingly. - -So I could, if Fred broke off, and stood up, leaning against the -mantel-piece. - -If you were sure you should not have a fortune? - -I did not say that. You want to quarrel with me. It is too bad of you -to be guided by what other people say about me. - -How can I want to quarrel with you? I should be quarrelling with all -my new books, said Mary, lifting the volume on the table. However -naughty you may be to other people, you are good to me. - -Because I like you better than any one else. But I know you despise -me. - -Yes, I doa little, said Mary, nodding, with a smile. - -You would admire a stupendous fellow, who would have wise opinions -about everything. - -Yes, I should. Mary was sewing swiftly, and seemed provokingly -mistress of the situation. When a conversation has taken a wrong turn -for us, we only get farther and farther into the swamp of awkwardness. -This was what Fred Vincy felt. - -I suppose a woman is never in love with any one she has always -knownever since she can remember; as a man often is. It is always some -new fellow who strikes a girl. - -Let me see, said Mary, the corners of her mouth curling archly; I -must go back on my experience. There is Julietshe seems an example of -what you say. But then Ophelia had probably known Hamlet a long while; -and Brenda Troilshe had known Mordaunt Merton ever since they were -children; but then he seems to have been an estimable young man; and -Minna was still more deeply in love with Cleveland, who was a stranger. -Waverley was new to Flora MacIvor; but then she did not fall in love -with him. And there are Olivia and Sophia Primrose, and Corinnethey -may be said to have fallen in love with new men. Altogether, my -experience is rather mixed. - -Mary looked up with some roguishness at Fred, and that look of hers was -very dear to him, though the eyes were nothing more than clear windows -where observation sat laughingly. He was certainly an affectionate -fellow, and as he had grown from boy to man, he had grown in love with -his old playmate, notwithstanding that share in the higher education of -the country which had exalted his views of rank and income. - -When a man is not loved, it is no use for him to say that he could be -a better fellowcould do anythingI mean, if he were sure of being -loved in return. - -Not of the least use in the world for him to say he _could_ be better. -Might, could, wouldthey are contemptible auxiliaries. - -I dont see how a man is to be good for much unless he has some one -woman to love him dearly. - -I think the goodness should come before he expects that. - -You know better, Mary. Women dont love men for their goodness. - -Perhaps not. But if they love them, they never think them bad. - -It is hardly fair to say I am bad. - -I said nothing at all about you. - -I never shall be good for anything, Mary, if you will not say that you -love meif you will not promise to marry meI mean, when I am able to -marry. - -If I did love you, I would not marry you: I would certainly not -promise ever to marry you. - -I think that is quite wicked, Mary. If you love me, you ought to -promise to marry me. - -On the contrary, I think it would be wicked in me to marry you even if -I did love you. - -You mean, just as I am, without any means of maintaining a wife. Of -course: I am but three-and-twenty. - -In that last point you will alter. But I am not so sure of any other -alteration. My father says an idle man ought not to exist, much less, -be married. - -Then I am to blow my brains out? - -No; on the whole I should think you would do better to pass your -examination. I have heard Mr. Farebrother say it is disgracefully -easy. - -That is all very fine. Anything is easy to him. Not that cleverness -has anything to do with it. I am ten times cleverer than many men who -pass. - -Dear me! said Mary, unable to repress her sarcasm; that accounts for -the curates like Mr. Crowse. Divide your cleverness by ten, and the -quotientdear me!is able to take a degree. But that only shows you are -ten times more idle than the others. - -Well, if I did pass, you would not want me to go into the Church? - -That is not the questionwhat I want you to do. You have a conscience -of your own, I suppose. There! there is Mr. Lydgate. I must go and tell -my uncle. - -Mary, said Fred, seizing her hand as she rose; if you will not give -me some encouragement, I shall get worse instead of better. - -I will not give you any encouragement, said Mary, reddening. Your -friends would dislike it, and so would mine. My father would think it a -disgrace to me if I accepted a man who got into debt, and would not -work! - -Fred was stung, and released her hand. She walked to the door, but -there she turned and said: Fred, you have always been so good, so -generous to me. I am not ungrateful. But never speak to me in that way -again. - -Very well, said Fred, sulkily, taking up his hat and whip. His -complexion showed patches of pale pink and dead white. Like many a -plucked idle young gentleman, he was thoroughly in love, and with a -plain girl, who had no money! But having Mr. Featherstones land in the -background, and a persuasion that, let Mary say what she would, she -really did care for him, Fred was not utterly in despair. - -When he got home, he gave four of the twenties to his mother, asking -her to keep them for him. I dont want to spend that money, mother. I -want it to pay a debt with. So keep it safe away from my fingers. - -Bless you, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy. She doted on her eldest son and -her youngest girl (a child of six), whom others thought her two -naughtiest children. The mothers eyes are not always deceived in their -partiality: she at least can best judge who is the tender, -filial-hearted child. And Fred was certainly very fond of his mother. -Perhaps it was his fondness for another person also that made him -particularly anxious to take some security against his own liability to -spend the hundred pounds. For the creditor to whom he owed a hundred -and sixty held a firmer security in the shape of a bill signed by -Marys father. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -Black eyes you have left, you say, - Blue eyes fail to draw you; -Yet you seem more rapt to-day, - Than of old we saw you. - -Oh, I track the fairest fair - Through new haunts of pleasure; -Footprints here and echoes there - Guide me to my treasure: - -Lo! she turnsimmortal youth - Wrought to mortal stature, -Fresh as starlights aged truth - Many-namd Nature! - - -A great historian, as he insisted on calling himself, who had the -happiness to be dead a hundred and twenty years ago, and so to take his -place among the colossi whose huge legs our living pettiness is -observed to walk under, glories in his copious remarks and digressions -as the least imitable part of his work, and especially in those initial -chapters to the successive books of his history, where he seems to -bring his armchair to the proscenium and chat with us in all the lusty -ease of his fine English. But Fielding lived when the days were longer -(for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer -afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter -evenings. We belated historians must not linger after his example; and -if we did so, it is probable that our chat would be thin and eager, as -if delivered from a campstool in a parrot-house. I at least have so -much to do in unraveling certain human lots, and seeing how they were -woven and interwoven, that all the light I can command must be -concentrated on this particular web, and not dispersed over that -tempting range of relevancies called the universe. - -At present I have to make the new settler Lydgate better known to any -one interested in him than he could possibly be even to those who had -seen the most of him since his arrival in Middlemarch. For surely all -must admit that a man may be puffed and belauded, envied, ridiculed, -counted upon as a tool and fallen in love with, or at least selected as -a future husband, and yet remain virtually unknownknown merely as a -cluster of signs for his neighbors false suppositions. There was a -general impression, however, that Lydgate was not altogether a common -country doctor, and in Middlemarch at that time such an impression was -significant of great things being expected from him. For everybodys -family doctor was remarkably clever, and was understood to have -immeasurable skill in the management and training of the most skittish -or vicious diseases. The evidence of his cleverness was of the higher -intuitive order, lying in his lady-patients immovable conviction, and -was unassailable by any objection except that their intuitions were -opposed by others equally strong; each lady who saw medical truth in -Wrench and the strengthening treatment regarding Toller and the -lowering system as medical perdition. For the heroic times of copious -bleeding and blistering had not yet departed, still less the times of -thorough-going theory, when disease in general was called by some bad -name, and treated accordingly without shilly-shallyas if, for example, -it were to be called insurrection, which must not be fired on with -blank-cartridge, but have its blood drawn at once. The strengtheners -and the lowerers were all clever men in somebodys opinion, which is -really as much as can be said for any living talents. Nobodys -imagination had gone so far as to conjecture that Mr. Lydgate could -know as much as Dr. Sprague and Dr. Minchin, the two physicians, who -alone could offer any hope when danger was extreme, and when the -smallest hope was worth a guinea. Still, I repeat, there was a general -impression that Lydgate was something rather more uncommon than any -general practitioner in Middlemarch. And this was true. He was but -seven-and-twenty, an age at which many men are not quite commonat -which they are hopeful of achievement, resolute in avoidance, thinking -that Mammon shall never put a bit in their mouths and get astride their -backs, but rather that Mammon, if they have anything to do with him, -shall draw their chariot. - -He had been left an orphan when he was fresh from a public school. His -father, a military man, had made but little provision for three -children, and when the boy Tertius asked to have a medical education, -it seemed easier to his guardians to grant his request by apprenticing -him to a country practitioner than to make any objections on the score -of family dignity. He was one of the rarer lads who early get a decided -bent and make up their minds that there is something particular in life -which they would like to do for its own sake, and not because their -fathers did it. Most of us who turn to any subject with love remember -some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down -an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, -or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the -first traceable beginning of our love. Something of that sort happened -to Lydgate. He was a quick fellow, and when hot from play, would toss -himself in a corner, and in five minutes be deep in any sort of book -that he could lay his hands on: if it were Rasselas or Gulliver, so -much the better, but Baileys Dictionary would do, or the Bible with -the Apocrypha in it. Something he must read, when he was not riding the -pony, or running and hunting, or listening to the talk of men. All this -was true of him at ten years of age; he had then read through Chrysal, -or the Adventures of a Guinea, which was neither milk for babes, nor -any chalky mixture meant to pass for milk, and it had already occurred -to him that books were stuff, and that life was stupid. His school -studies had not much modified that opinion, for though he did his -classics and mathematics, he was not pre-eminent in them. It was said -of him, that Lydgate could do anything he liked, but he had certainly -not yet liked to do anything remarkable. He was a vigorous animal with -a ready understanding, but no spark had yet kindled in him an -intellectual passion; knowledge seemed to him a very superficial -affair, easily mastered: judging from the conversation of his elders, -he had apparently got already more than was necessary for mature life. -Probably this was not an exceptional result of expensive teaching at -that period of short-waisted coats, and other fashions which have not -yet recurred. But, one vacation, a wet day sent him to the small home -library to hunt once more for a book which might have some freshness -for him: in vain! unless, indeed, he took down a dusty row of volumes -with gray-paper backs and dingy labelsthe volumes of an old -Cyclopaedia which he had never disturbed. It would at least be a -novelty to disturb them. They were on the highest shelf, and he stood -on a chair to get them down. But he opened the volume which he first -took from the shelf: somehow, one is apt to read in a makeshift -attitude, just where it might seem inconvenient to do so. The page he -opened on was under the head of Anatomy, and the first passage that -drew his eyes was on the valves of the heart. He was not much -acquainted with valves of any sort, but he knew that valvae were -folding-doors, and through this crevice came a sudden light startling -him with his first vivid notion of finely adjusted mechanism in the -human frame. A liberal education had of course left him free to read -the indecent passages in the school classics, but beyond a general -sense of secrecy and obscenity in connection with his internal -structure, had left his imagination quite unbiassed, so that for -anything he knew his brains lay in small bags at his temples, and he -had no more thought of representing to himself how his blood circulated -than how paper served instead of gold. But the moment of vocation had -come, and before he got down from his chair, the world was made new to -him by a presentiment of endless processes filling the vast spaces -planked out of his sight by that wordy ignorance which he had supposed -to be knowledge. From that hour Lydgate felt the growth of an -intellectual passion. - -We are not afraid of telling over and over again how a man comes to -fall in love with a woman and be wedded to her, or else be fatally -parted from her. Is it due to excess of poetry or of stupidity that we -are never weary of describing what King James called a womans makdom -and her fairnesse, never weary of listening to the twanging of the old -Troubadour strings, and are comparatively uninterested in that other -kind of makdom and fairnesse which must be wooed with industrious -thought and patient renunciation of small desires? In the story of this -passion, too, the development varies: sometimes it is the glorious -marriage, sometimes frustration and final parting. And not seldom the -catastrophe is bound up with the other passion, sung by the -Troubadours. For in the multitude of middle-aged men who go about their -vocations in a daily course determined for them much in the same way as -the tie of their cravats, there is always a good number who once meant -to shape their own deeds and alter the world a little. The story of -their coming to be shapen after the average and fit to be packed by the -gross, is hardly ever told even in their consciousness; for perhaps -their ardor in generous unpaid toil cooled as imperceptibly as the -ardor of other youthful loves, till one day their earlier self walked -like a ghost in its old home and made the new furniture ghastly. -Nothing in the world more subtle than the process of their gradual -change! In the beginning they inhaled it unknowingly: you and I may -have sent some of our breath towards infecting them, when we uttered -our conforming falsities or drew our silly conclusions: or perhaps it -came with the vibrations from a womans glance. - -Lydgate did not mean to be one of those failures, and there was the -better hope of him because his scientific interest soon took the form -of a professional enthusiasm: he had a youthful belief in his -bread-winning work, not to be stifled by that initiation in makeshift -called his prentice days; and he carried to his studies in London, -Edinburgh, and Paris, the conviction that the medical profession as it -might be was the finest in the world; presenting the most perfect -interchange between science and art; offering the most direct alliance -between intellectual conquest and the social good. Lydgates nature -demanded this combination: he was an emotional creature, with a -flesh-and-blood sense of fellowship which withstood all the -abstractions of special study. He cared not only for cases, but for -John and Elizabeth, especially Elizabeth. - -There was another attraction in his profession: it wanted reform, and -gave a man an opportunity for some indignant resolve to reject its -venal decorations and other humbug, and to be the possessor of genuine -though undemanded qualifications. He went to study in Paris with the -determination that when he came home again he would settle in some -provincial town as a general practitioner, and resist the irrational -severance between medical and surgical knowledge in the interest of his -own scientific pursuits, as well as of the general advance: he would -keep away from the range of London intrigues, jealousies, and social -truckling, and win celebrity, however slowly, as Jenner had done, by -the independent value of his work. For it must be remembered that this -was a dark period; and in spite of venerable colleges which used great -efforts to secure purity of knowledge by making it scarce, and to -exclude error by a rigid exclusiveness in relation to fees and -appointments, it happened that very ignorant young gentlemen were -promoted in town, and many more got a legal right to practise over -large areas in the country. Also, the high standard held up to the -public mind by the College of Physicians, which gave its peculiar -sanction to the expensive and highly rarefied medical instruction -obtained by graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, did not hinder quackery -from having an excellent time of it; for since professional practice -chiefly consisted in giving a great many drugs, the public inferred -that it might be better off with more drugs still, if they could only -be got cheaply, and hence swallowed large cubic measures of physic -prescribed by unscrupulous ignorance which had taken no degrees. -Considering that statistics had not yet embraced a calculation as to -the number of ignorant or canting doctors which absolutely must exist -in the teeth of all changes, it seemed to Lydgate that a change in the -units was the most direct mode of changing the numbers. He meant to be -a unit who would make a certain amount of difference towards that -spreading change which would one day tell appreciably upon the -averages, and in the mean time have the pleasure of making an -advantageous difference to the viscera of his own patients. But he did -not simply aim at a more genuine kind of practice than was common. He -was ambitious of a wider effect: he was fired with the possibility that -he might work out the proof of an anatomical conception and make a link -in the chain of discovery. - -Does it seem incongruous to you that a Middlemarch surgeon should dream -of himself as a discoverer? Most of us, indeed, know little of the -great originators until they have been lifted up among the -constellations and already rule our fates. But that Herschel, for -example, who broke the barriers of the heavensdid he not once play a -provincial church-organ, and give music-lessons to stumbling pianists? -Each of those Shining Ones had to walk on the earth among neighbors who -perhaps thought much more of his gait and his garments than of anything -which was to give him a title to everlasting fame: each of them had his -little local personal history sprinkled with small temptations and -sordid cares, which made the retarding friction of his course towards -final companionship with the immortals. Lydgate was not blind to the -dangers of such friction, but he had plenty of confidence in his -resolution to avoid it as far as possible: being seven-and-twenty, he -felt himself experienced. And he was not going to have his vanities -provoked by contact with the showy worldly successes of the capital, -but to live among people who could hold no rivalry with that pursuit of -a great idea which was to be a twin object with the assiduous practice -of his profession. There was fascination in the hope that the two -purposes would illuminate each other: the careful observation and -inference which was his daily work, the use of the lens to further his -judgment in special cases, would further his thought as an instrument -of larger inquiry. Was not this the typical pre-eminence of his -profession? He would be a good Middlemarch doctor, and by that very -means keep himself in the track of far-reaching investigation. On one -point he may fairly claim approval at this particular stage of his -career: he did not mean to imitate those philanthropic models who make -a profit out of poisonous pickles to support themselves while they are -exposing adulteration, or hold shares in a gambling-hell that they may -have leisure to represent the cause of public morality. He intended to -begin in his own case some particular reforms which were quite -certainly within his reach, and much less of a problem than the -demonstrating of an anatomical conception. One of these reforms was to -act stoutly on the strength of a recent legal decision, and simply -prescribe, without dispensing drugs or taking percentage from -druggists. This was an innovation for one who had chosen to adopt the -style of general practitioner in a country town, and would be felt as -offensive criticism by his professional brethren. But Lydgate meant to -innovate in his treatment also, and he was wise enough to see that the -best security for his practising honestly according to his belief was -to get rid of systematic temptations to the contrary. - -Perhaps that was a more cheerful time for observers and theorizers than -the present; we are apt to think it the finest era of the world when -America was beginning to be discovered, when a bold sailor, even if he -were wrecked, might alight on a new kingdom; and about 1829 the dark -territories of Pathology were a fine America for a spirited young -adventurer. Lydgate was ambitious above all to contribute towards -enlarging the scientific, rational basis of his profession. The more he -became interested in special questions of disease, such as the nature -of fever or fevers, the more keenly he felt the need for that -fundamental knowledge of structure which just at the beginning of the -century had been illuminated by the brief and glorious career of -Bichat, who died when he was only one-and-thirty, but, like another -Alexander, left a realm large enough for many heirs. That great -Frenchman first carried out the conception that living bodies, -fundamentally considered, are not associations of organs which can be -understood by studying them first apart, and then as it were federally; -but must be regarded as consisting of certain primary webs or tissues, -out of which the various organsbrain, heart, lungs, and so onare -compacted, as the various accommodations of a house are built up in -various proportions of wood, iron, stone, brick, zinc, and the rest, -each material having its peculiar composition and proportions. No man, -one sees, can understand and estimate the entire structure or its -partswhat are its frailties and what its repairs, without knowing the -nature of the materials. And the conception wrought out by Bichat, with -his detailed study of the different tissues, acted necessarily on -medical questions as the turning of gas-light would act on a dim, -oil-lit street, showing new connections and hitherto hidden facts of -structure which must be taken into account in considering the symptoms -of maladies and the action of medicaments. But results which depend on -human conscience and intelligence work slowly, and now at the end of -1829, most medical practice was still strutting or shambling along the -old paths, and there was still scientific work to be done which might -have seemed to be a direct sequence of Bichats. This great seer did -not go beyond the consideration of the tissues as ultimate facts in the -living organism, marking the limit of anatomical analysis; but it was -open to another mind to say, have not these structures some common -basis from which they have all started, as your sarsnet, gauze, net, -satin, and velvet from the raw cocoon? Here would be another light, as -of oxy-hydrogen, showing the very grain of things, and revising all -former explanations. Of this sequence to Bichats work, already -vibrating along many currents of the European mind, Lydgate was -enamoured; he longed to demonstrate the more intimate relations of -living structure, and help to define mens thought more accurately -after the true order. The work had not yet been done, but only prepared -for those who knew how to use the preparation. What was the primitive -tissue? In that way Lydgate put the questionnot quite in the way -required by the awaiting answer; but such missing of the right word -befalls many seekers. And he counted on quiet intervals to be -watchfully seized, for taking up the threads of investigationon many -hints to be won from diligent application, not only of the scalpel, but -of the microscope, which research had begun to use again with new -enthusiasm of reliance. Such was Lydgates plan of his future: to do -good small work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world. - -He was certainly a happy fellow at this time: to be seven-and-twenty, -without any fixed vices, with a generous resolution that his action -should be beneficent, and with ideas in his brain that made life -interesting quite apart from the cultus of horseflesh and other mystic -rites of costly observance, which the eight hundred pounds left him -after buying his practice would certainly not have gone far in paying -for. He was at a starting-point which makes many a mans career a fine -subject for betting, if there were any gentlemen given to that -amusement who could appreciate the complicated probabilities of an -arduous purpose, with all the possible thwartings and furtherings of -circumstance, all the niceties of inward balance, by which a man swims -and makes his point or else is carried headlong. The risk would remain -even with close knowledge of Lydgates character; for character too is -a process and an unfolding. The man was still in the making, as much as -the Middlemarch doctor and immortal discoverer, and there were both -virtues and faults capable of shrinking or expanding. The faults will -not, I hope, be a reason for the withdrawal of your interest in him. -Among our valued friends is there not some one or other who is a little -too self-confident and disdainful; whose distinguished mind is a little -spotted with commonness; who is a little pinched here and protuberant -there with native prejudices; or whose better energies are liable to -lapse down the wrong channel under the influence of transient -solicitations? All these things might be alleged against Lydgate, but -then, they are the periphrases of a polite preacher, who talks of Adam, -and would not like to mention anything painful to the pew-renters. The -particular faults from which these delicate generalities are distilled -have distinguishable physiognomies, diction, accent, and grimaces; -filling up parts in very various dramas. Our vanities differ as our -noses do: all conceit is not the same conceit, but varies in -correspondence with the minutiae of mental make in which one of us -differs from another. Lydgates conceit was of the arrogant sort, never -simpering, never impertinent, but massive in its claims and -benevolently contemptuous. He would do a great deal for noodles, being -sorry for them, and feeling quite sure that they could have no power -over him: he had thought of joining the Saint Simonians when he was in -Paris, in order to turn them against some of their own doctrines. All -his faults were marked by kindred traits, and were those of a man who -had a fine baritone, whose clothes hung well upon him, and who even in -his ordinary gestures had an air of inbred distinction. Where then lay -the spots of commonness? says a young lady enamoured of that careless -grace. How could there be any commonness in a man so well-bred, so -ambitious of social distinction, so generous and unusual in his views -of social duty? As easily as there may be stupidity in a man of genius -if you take him unawares on the wrong subject, or as many a man who has -the best will to advance the social millennium might be ill-inspired in -imagining its lighter pleasures; unable to go beyond Offenbachs music, -or the brilliant punning in the last burlesque. Lydgates spots of -commonness lay in the complexion of his prejudices, which, in spite of -noble intention and sympathy, were half of them such as are found in -ordinary men of the world: that distinction of mind which belonged to -his intellectual ardor, did not penetrate his feeling and judgment -about furniture, or women, or the desirability of its being known -(without his telling) that he was better born than other country -surgeons. He did not mean to think of furniture at present; but -whenever he did so it was to be feared that neither biology nor schemes -of reform would lift him above the vulgarity of feeling that there -would be an incompatibility in his furniture not being of the best. - -As to women, he had once already been drawn headlong by impetuous -folly, which he meant to be final, since marriage at some distant -period would of course not be impetuous. For those who want to be -acquainted with Lydgate it will be good to know what was that case of -impetuous folly, for it may stand as an example of the fitful swerving -of passion to which he was prone, together with the chivalrous kindness -which helped to make him morally lovable. The story can be told without -many words. It happened when he was studying in Paris, and just at the -time when, over and above his other work, he was occupied with some -galvanic experiments. One evening, tired with his experimenting, and -not being able to elicit the facts he needed, he left his frogs and -rabbits to some repose under their trying and mysterious dispensation -of unexplained shocks, and went to finish his evening at the theatre of -the Porte Saint Martin, where there was a melodrama which he had -already seen several times; attracted, not by the ingenious work of the -collaborating authors, but by an actress whose part it was to stab her -lover, mistaking him for the evil-designing duke of the piece. Lydgate -was in love with this actress, as a man is in love with a woman whom he -never expects to speak to. She was a Provencale, with dark eyes, a -Greek profile, and rounded majestic form, having that sort of beauty -which carries a sweet matronliness even in youth, and her voice was a -soft cooing. She had but lately come to Paris, and bore a virtuous -reputation, her husband acting with her as the unfortunate lover. It -was her acting which was no better than it should be, but the public -was satisfied. Lydgates only relaxation now was to go and look at this -woman, just as he might have thrown himself under the breath of the -sweet south on a bank of violets for a while, without prejudice to his -galvanism, to which he would presently return. But this evening the old -drama had a new catastrophe. At the moment when the heroine was to act -the stabbing of her lover, and he was to fall gracefully, the wife -veritably stabbed her husband, who fell as death willed. A wild shriek -pierced the house, and the Provencale fell swooning: a shriek and a -swoon were demanded by the play, but the swooning too was real this -time. Lydgate leaped and climbed, he hardly knew how, on to the stage, -and was active in help, making the acquaintance of his heroine by -finding a contusion on her head and lifting her gently in his arms. -Paris rang with the story of this death:was it a murder? Some of the -actresss warmest admirers were inclined to believe in her guilt, and -liked her the better for it (such was the taste of those times); but -Lydgate was not one of these. He vehemently contended for her -innocence, and the remote impersonal passion for her beauty which he -had felt before, had passed now into personal devotion, and tender -thought of her lot. The notion of murder was absurd: no motive was -discoverable, the young couple being understood to dote on each other; -and it was not unprecedented that an accidental slip of the foot should -have brought these grave consequences. The legal investigation ended in -Madame Laures release. Lydgate by this time had had many interviews -with her, and found her more and more adorable. She talked little; but -that was an additional charm. She was melancholy, and seemed grateful; -her presence was enough, like that of the evening light. Lydgate was -madly anxious about her affection, and jealous lest any other man than -himself should win it and ask her to marry him. But instead of -reopening her engagement at the Porte Saint Martin, where she would -have been all the more popular for the fatal episode, she left Paris -without warning, forsaking her little court of admirers. Perhaps no one -carried inquiry far except Lydgate, who felt that all science had come -to a stand-still while he imagined the unhappy Laure, stricken by -ever-wandering sorrow, herself wandering, and finding no faithful -comforter. Hidden actresses, however, are not so difficult to find as -some other hidden facts, and it was not long before Lydgate gathered -indications that Laure had taken the route to Lyons. He found her at -last acting with great success at Avignon under the same name, looking -more majestic than ever as a forsaken wife carrying her child in her -arms. He spoke to her after the play, was received with the usual -quietude which seemed to him beautiful as clear depths of water, and -obtained leave to visit her the next day; when he was bent on telling -her that he adored her, and on asking her to marry him. He knew that -this was like the sudden impulse of a madmanincongruous even with his -habitual foibles. No matter! It was the one thing which he was resolved -to do. He had two selves within him apparently, and they must learn to -accommodate each other and bear reciprocal impediments. Strange, that -some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, -and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our -persistent self pauses and awaits us. - -To have approached Laure with any suit that was not reverentially -tender would have been simply a contradiction of his whole feeling -towards her. - -You have come all the way from Paris to find me? she said to him the -next day, sitting before him with folded arms, and looking at him with -eyes that seemed to wonder as an untamed ruminating animal wonders. -Are all Englishmen like that? - -I came because I could not live without trying to see you. You are -lonely; I love you; I want you to consent to be my wife; I will wait, -but I want you to promise that you will marry meno one else. - -Laure looked at him in silence with a melancholy radiance from under -her grand eyelids, until he was full of rapturous certainty, and knelt -close to her knees. - -I will tell you something, she said, in her cooing way, keeping her -arms folded. My foot really slipped. - -I know, I know, said Lydgate, deprecatingly. It was a fatal -accidenta dreadful stroke of calamity that bound me to you the more. - -Again Laure paused a little and then said, slowly, _I meant to do -it._ - -Lydgate, strong man as he was, turned pale and trembled: moments seemed -to pass before he rose and stood at a distance from her. - -There was a secret, then, he said at last, even vehemently. He was -brutal to you: you hated him. - -No! he wearied me; he was too fond: he would live in Paris, and not in -my country; that was not agreeable to me. - -Great God! said Lydgate, in a groan of horror. And you planned to -murder him? - -I did not plan: it came to me in the play_I meant to do it._ - -Lydgate stood mute, and unconsciously pressed his hat on while he -looked at her. He saw this womanthe first to whom he had given his -young adorationamid the throng of stupid criminals. - -You are a good young man, she said. But I do not like husbands. I -will never have another. - -Three days afterwards Lydgate was at his galvanism again in his Paris -chambers, believing that illusions were at an end for him. He was saved -from hardening effects by the abundant kindness of his heart and his -belief that human life might be made better. But he had more reason -than ever for trusting his judgment, now that it was so experienced; -and henceforth he would take a strictly scientific view of woman, -entertaining no expectations but such as were justified beforehand. - -No one in Middlemarch was likely to have such a notion of Lydgates -past as has here been faintly shadowed, and indeed the respectable -townsfolk there were not more given than mortals generally to any eager -attempt at exactness in the representation to themselves of what did -not come under their own senses. Not only young virgins of that town, -but gray-bearded men also, were often in haste to conjecture how a new -acquaintance might be wrought into their purposes, contented with very -vague knowledge as to the way in which life had been shaping him for -that instrumentality. Middlemarch, in fact, counted on swallowing -Lydgate and assimilating him very comfortably. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -All that in woman is adored - In thy fair self I find -For the whole sex can but afford - The handsome and the kind. -SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. - - -The question whether Mr. Tyke should be appointed as salaried chaplain -to the hospital was an exciting topic to the Middlemarchers; and -Lydgate heard it discussed in a way that threw much light on the power -exercised in the town by Mr. Bulstrode. The banker was evidently a -ruler, but there was an opposition party, and even among his supporters -there were some who allowed it to be seen that their support was a -compromise, and who frankly stated their impression that the general -scheme of things, and especially the casualties of trade, required you -to hold a candle to the devil. - -Mr. Bulstrodes power was not due simply to his being a country banker, -who knew the financial secrets of most traders in the town and could -touch the springs of their credit; it was fortified by a beneficence -that was at once ready and severeready to confer obligations, and -severe in watching the result. He had gathered, as an industrious man -always at his post, a chief share in administering the town charities, -and his private charities were both minute and abundant. He would take -a great deal of pains about apprenticing Tegg the shoemakers son, and -he would watch over Teggs church-going; he would defend Mrs. Strype -the washerwoman against Stubbss unjust exaction on the score of her -drying-ground, and he would himself scrutinize a calumny against Mrs. -Strype. His private minor loans were numerous, but he would inquire -strictly into the circumstances both before and after. In this way a -man gathers a domain in his neighbors hope and fear as well as -gratitude; and power, when once it has got into that subtle region, -propagates itself, spreading out of all proportion to its external -means. It was a principle with Mr. Bulstrode to gain as much power as -possible, that he might use it for the glory of God. He went through a -great deal of spiritual conflict and inward argument in order to adjust -his motives, and make clear to himself what Gods glory required. But, -as we have seen, his motives were not always rightly appreciated. There -were many crass minds in Middlemarch whose reflective scales could only -weigh things in the lump; and they had a strong suspicion that since -Mr. Bulstrode could not enjoy life in their fashion, eating and -drinking so little as he did, and worreting himself about everything, -he must have a sort of vampires feast in the sense of mastery. - -The subject of the chaplaincy came up at Mr. Vincys table when Lydgate -was dining there, and the family connection with Mr. Bulstrode did not, -he observed, prevent some freedom of remark even on the part of the -host himself, though his reasons against the proposed arrangement -turned entirely on his objection to Mr. Tykes sermons, which were all -doctrine, and his preference for Mr. Farebrother, whose sermons were -free from that taint. Mr. Vincy liked well enough the notion of the -chaplains having a salary, supposing it were given to Farebrother, who -was as good a little fellow as ever breathed, and the best preacher -anywhere, and companionable too. - -What line shall you take, then? said Mr. Chichely, the coroner, a -great coursing comrade of Mr. Vincys. - -Oh, Im precious glad Im not one of the Directors now. I shall vote -for referring the matter to the Directors and the Medical Board -together. I shall roll some of my responsibility on your shoulders, -Doctor, said Mr. Vincy, glancing first at Dr. Sprague, the senior -physician of the town, and then at Lydgate who sat opposite. You -medical gentlemen must consult which sort of black draught you will -prescribe, eh, Mr. Lydgate? - -I know little of either, said Lydgate; but in general, appointments -are apt to be made too much a question of personal liking. The fittest -man for a particular post is not always the best fellow or the most -agreeable. Sometimes, if you wanted to get a reform, your only way -would be to pension off the good fellows whom everybody is fond of, and -put them out of the question. - -Dr. Sprague, who was considered the physician of most weight, though -Dr. Minchin was usually said to have more penetration, divested his -large heavy face of all expression, and looked at his wine-glass while -Lydgate was speaking. Whatever was not problematical and suspected -about this young manfor example, a certain showiness as to foreign -ideas, and a disposition to unsettle what had been settled and -forgotten by his elderswas positively unwelcome to a physician whose -standing had been fixed thirty years before by a treatise on -Meningitis, of which at least one copy marked own was bound in calf. -For my part I have some fellow-feeling with Dr. Sprague: ones -self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of property which it is very -unpleasant to find deprecated. - -Lydgates remark, however, did not meet the sense of the company. Mr. -Vincy said, that if he could have _his_ way, he would not put -disagreeable fellows anywhere. - -Hang your reforms! said Mr. Chichely. Theres no greater humbug in -the world. You never hear of a reform, but it means some trick to put -in new men. I hope you are not one of the Lancets men, Mr. -Lydgatewanting to take the coronership out of the hands of the legal -profession: your words appear to point that way. - -I disapprove of Wakley, interposed Dr. Sprague, no man more: he is -an ill-intentioned fellow, who would sacrifice the respectability of -the profession, which everybody knows depends on the London Colleges, -for the sake of getting some notoriety for himself. There are men who -dont mind about being kicked blue if they can only get talked about. -But Wakley is right sometimes, the Doctor added, judicially. I could -mention one or two points in which Wakley is in the right. - -Oh, well, said Mr. Chichely, I blame no man for standing up in favor -of his own cloth; but, coming to argument, I should like to know how a -coroner is to judge of evidence if he has not had a legal training? - -In my opinion, said Lydgate, legal training only makes a man more -incompetent in questions that require knowledge of another kind. People -talk about evidence as if it could really be weighed in scales by a -blind Justice. No man can judge what is good evidence on any particular -subject, unless he knows that subject well. A lawyer is no better than -an old woman at a post-mortem examination. How is he to know the action -of a poison? You might as well say that scanning verse will teach you -to scan the potato crops. - -You are aware, I suppose, that it is not the coroners business to -conduct the _post-mortem_, but only to take the evidence of the medical -witness? said Mr. Chichely, with some scorn. - -Who is often almost as ignorant as the coroner himself, said Lydgate. -Questions of medical jurisprudence ought not to be left to the chance -of decent knowledge in a medical witness, and the coroner ought not to -be a man who will believe that strychnine will destroy the coats of the -stomach if an ignorant practitioner happens to tell him so. - -Lydgate had really lost sight of the fact that Mr. Chichely was his -Majestys coroner, and ended innocently with the question, Dont you -agree with me, Dr. Sprague? - -To a certain extentwith regard to populous districts, and in the -metropolis, said the Doctor. But I hope it will be long before this -part of the country loses the services of my friend Chichely, even -though it might get the best man in our profession to succeed him. I am -sure Vincy will agree with me. - -Yes, yes, give me a coroner who is a good coursing man, said Mr. -Vincy, jovially. And in my opinion, youre safest with a lawyer. -Nobody can know everything. Most things are visitation of God. And as -to poisoning, why, what you want to know is the law. Come, shall we -join the ladies? - -Lydgates private opinion was that Mr. Chichely might be the very -coroner without bias as to the coats of the stomach, but he had not -meant to be personal. This was one of the difficulties of moving in -good Middlemarch society: it was dangerous to insist on knowledge as a -qualification for any salaried office. Fred Vincy had called Lydgate a -prig, and now Mr. Chichely was inclined to call him prick-eared; -especially when, in the drawing-room, he seemed to be making himself -eminently agreeable to Rosamond, whom he had easily monopolized in a -_tte--tte_, since Mrs. Vincy herself sat at the tea-table. She -resigned no domestic function to her daughter; and the matrons -blooming good-natured face, with the two volatile pink strings floating -from her fine throat, and her cheery manners to husband and children, -was certainly among the great attractions of the Vincy -houseattractions which made it all the easier to fall in love with the -daughter. The tinge of unpretentious, inoffensive vulgarity in Mrs. -Vincy gave more effect to Rosamonds refinement, which was beyond what -Lydgate had expected. - -Certainly, small feet and perfectly turned shoulders aid the impression -of refined manners, and the right thing said seems quite astonishingly -right when it is accompanied with exquisite curves of lip and eyelid. -And Rosamond could say the right thing; for she was clever with that -sort of cleverness which catches every tone except the humorous. -Happily she never attempted to joke, and this perhaps was the most -decisive mark of her cleverness. - -She and Lydgate readily got into conversation. He regretted that he had -not heard her sing the other day at Stone Court. The only pleasure he -allowed himself during the latter part of his stay in Paris was to go -and hear music. - -You have studied music, probably? said Rosamond. - -No, I know the notes of many birds, and I know many melodies by ear; -but the music that I dont know at all, and have no notion about, -delights meaffects me. How stupid the world is that it does not make -more use of such a pleasure within its reach! - -Yes, and you will find Middlemarch very tuneless. There are hardly any -good musicians. I only know two gentlemen who sing at all well. - -I suppose it is the fashion to sing comic songs in a rhythmic way, -leaving you to fancy the tunevery much as if it were tapped on a -drum? - -Ah, you have heard Mr. Bowyer, said Rosamond, with one of her rare -smiles. But we are speaking very ill of our neighbors. - -Lydgate was almost forgetting that he must carry on the conversation, -in thinking how lovely this creature was, her garment seeming to be -made out of the faintest blue sky, herself so immaculately blond, as if -the petals of some gigantic flower had just opened and disclosed her; -and yet with this infantine blondness showing so much ready, -self-possessed grace. Since he had had the memory of Laure, Lydgate had -lost all taste for large-eyed silence: the divine cow no longer -attracted him, and Rosamond was her very opposite. But he recalled -himself. - -You will let me hear some music to-night, I hope. - -I will let you hear my attempts, if you like, said Rosamond. Papa is -sure to insist on my singing. But I shall tremble before you, who have -heard the best singers in Paris. I have heard very little: I have only -once been to London. But our organist at St. Peters is a good -musician, and I go on studying with him. - -Tell me what you saw in London. - -Very little. (A more naive girl would have said, Oh, everything! -But Rosamond knew better.) A few of the ordinary sights, such as raw -country girls are always taken to. - -Do you call yourself a raw country girl? said Lydgate, looking at her -with an involuntary emphasis of admiration, which made Rosamond blush -with pleasure. But she remained simply serious, turned her long neck a -little, and put up her hand to touch her wondrous hair-plaitsan -habitual gesture with her as pretty as any movements of a kittens paw. -Not that Rosamond was in the least like a kitten: she was a sylph -caught young and educated at Mrs. Lemons. - -I assure you my mind is raw, she said immediately; I pass at -Middlemarch. I am not afraid of talking to our old neighbors. But I am -really afraid of you. - -An accomplished woman almost always knows more than we men, though her -knowledge is of a different sort. I am sure you could teach me a -thousand thingsas an exquisite bird could teach a bear if there were -any common language between them. Happily, there is a common language -between women and men, and so the bears can get taught. - -Ah, there is Fred beginning to strum! I must go and hinder him from -jarring all your nerves, said Rosamond, moving to the other side of -the room, where Fred having opened the piano, at his fathers desire, -that Rosamond might give them some music, was parenthetically -performing Cherry Ripe! with one hand. Able men who have passed their -examinations will do these things sometimes, not less than the plucked -Fred. - -Fred, pray defer your practising till to-morrow; you will make Mr. -Lydgate ill, said Rosamond. He has an ear. - -Fred laughed, and went on with his tune to the end. - -Rosamond turned to Lydgate, smiling gently, and said, You perceive, -the bears will not always be taught. - -Now then, Rosy! said Fred, springing from the stool and twisting it -upward for her, with a hearty expectation of enjoyment. Some good -rousing tunes first. - -Rosamond played admirably. Her master at Mrs. Lemons school (close to -a county town with a memorable history that had its relics in church -and castle) was one of those excellent musicians here and there to be -found in our provinces, worthy to compare with many a noted -Kapellmeister in a country which offers more plentiful conditions of -musical celebrity. Rosamond, with the executants instinct, had seized -his manner of playing, and gave forth his large rendering of noble -music with the precision of an echo. It was almost startling, heard for -the first time. A hidden soul seemed to be flowing forth from -Rosamonds fingers; and so indeed it was, since souls live on in -perpetual echoes, and to all fine expression there goes somewhere an -originating activity, if it be only that of an interpreter. Lydgate was -taken possession of, and began to believe in her as something -exceptional. After all, he thought, one need not be surprised to find -the rare conjunctions of nature under circumstances apparently -unfavorable: come where they may, they always depend on conditions that -are not obvious. He sat looking at her, and did not rise to pay her any -compliments, leaving that to others, now that his admiration was -deepened. - -Her singing was less remarkable, but also well trained, and sweet to -hear as a chime perfectly in tune. It is true she sang Meet me by -moonlight, and Ive been roaming; for mortals must share the -fashions of their time, and none but the ancients can be always -classical. But Rosamond could also sing Black-eyed Susan with effect, -or Haydns canzonets, or Voi, che sapete, or Batti, battishe only -wanted to know what her audience liked. - -Her father looked round at the company, delighting in their admiration. -Her mother sat, like a Niobe before her troubles, with her youngest -little girl on her lap, softly beating the childs hand up and down in -time to the music. And Fred, notwithstanding his general scepticism -about Rosy, listened to her music with perfect allegiance, wishing he -could do the same thing on his flute. It was the pleasantest family -party that Lydgate had seen since he came to Middlemarch. The Vincys -had the readiness to enjoy, the rejection of all anxiety, and the -belief in life as a merry lot, which made a house exceptional in most -county towns at that time, when Evangelicalism had cast a certain -suspicion as of plague-infection over the few amusements which survived -in the provinces. At the Vincys there was always whist, and the -card-tables stood ready now, making some of the company secretly -impatient of the music. Before it ceased Mr. Farebrother came ina -handsome, broad-chested but otherwise small man, about forty, whose -black was very threadbare: the brilliancy was all in his quick gray -eyes. He came like a pleasant change in the light, arresting little -Louisa with fatherly nonsense as she was being led out of the room by -Miss Morgan, greeting everybody with some special word, and seeming to -condense more talk into ten minutes than had been held all through the -evening. He claimed from Lydgate the fulfilment of a promise to come -and see him. I cant let you off, you know, because I have some -beetles to show you. We collectors feel an interest in every new man -till he has seen all we have to show him. - -But soon he swerved to the whist-table, rubbing his hands and saying, -Come now, let us be serious! Mr. Lydgate? not play? Ah! you are too -young and light for this kind of thing. - -Lydgate said to himself that the clergyman whose abilities were so -painful to Mr. Bulstrode, appeared to have found an agreeable resort in -this certainly not erudite household. He could half understand it: the -good-humor, the good looks of elder and younger, and the provision for -passing the time without any labor of intelligence, might make the -house beguiling to people who had no particular use for their odd -hours. - -Everything looked blooming and joyous except Miss Morgan, who was -brown, dull, and resigned, and altogether, as Mrs. Vincy often said, -just the sort of person for a governess. Lydgate did not mean to pay -many such visits himself. They were a wretched waste of the evenings; -and now, when he had talked a little more to Rosamond, he meant to -excuse himself and go. - -You will not like us at Middlemarch, I feel sure, she said, when the -whist-players were settled. We are very stupid, and you have been used -to something quite different. - -I suppose all country towns are pretty much alike, said Lydgate. But -I have noticed that one always believes ones own town to be more -stupid than any other. I have made up my mind to take Middlemarch as it -comes, and shall be much obliged if the town will take me in the same -way. I have certainly found some charms in it which are much greater -than I had expected. - -You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick; every one is pleased -with those, said Rosamond, with simplicity. - -No, I mean something much nearer to me. - -Rosamond rose and reached her netting, and then said, Do you care -about dancing at all? I am not quite sure whether clever men ever -dance. - -I would dance with you if you would allow me. - -Oh! said Rosamond, with a slight deprecatory laugh. I was only going -to say that we sometimes have dancing, and I wanted to know whether you -would feel insulted if you were asked to come. - -Not on the condition I mentioned. - -After this chat Lydgate thought that he was going, but on moving -towards the whist-tables, he got interested in watching Mr. -Farebrothers play, which was masterly, and also his face, which was a -striking mixture of the shrewd and the mild. At ten oclock supper was -brought in (such were the customs of Middlemarch) and there was -punch-drinking; but Mr. Farebrother had only a glass of water. He was -winning, but there seemed to be no reason why the renewal of rubbers -should end, and Lydgate at last took his leave. - -But as it was not eleven oclock, he chose to walk in the brisk air -towards the tower of St. Botolphs, Mr. Farebrothers church, which -stood out dark, square, and massive against the starlight. It was the -oldest church in Middlemarch; the living, however, was but a vicarage -worth barely four hundred a-year. Lydgate had heard that, and he -wondered now whether Mr. Farebrother cared about the money he won at -cards; thinking, He seems a very pleasant fellow, but Bulstrode may -have his good reasons. Many things would be easier to Lydgate if it -should turn out that Mr. Bulstrode was generally justifiable. What is -his religious doctrine to me, if he carries some good notions along -with it? One must use such brains as are to be found. - -These were actually Lydgates first meditations as he walked away from -Mr. Vincys, and on this ground I fear that many ladies will consider -him hardly worthy of their attention. He thought of Rosamond and her -music only in the second place; and though, when her turn came, he -dwelt on the image of her for the rest of his walk, he felt no -agitation, and had no sense that any new current had set into his life. -He could not marry yet; he wished not to marry for several years; and -therefore he was not ready to entertain the notion of being in love -with a girl whom he happened to admire. He did admire Rosamond -exceedingly; but that madness which had once beset him about Laure was -not, he thought, likely to recur in relation to any other woman. -Certainly, if falling in love had been at all in question, it would -have been quite safe with a creature like this Miss Vincy, who had just -the kind of intelligence one would desire in a womanpolished, refined, -docile, lending itself to finish in all the delicacies of life, and -enshrined in a body which expressed this with a force of demonstration -that excluded the need for other evidence. Lydgate felt sure that if -ever he married, his wife would have that feminine radiance, that -distinctive womanhood which must be classed with flowers and music, -that sort of beauty which by its very nature was virtuous, being -moulded only for pure and delicate joys. - -But since he did not mean to marry for the next five yearshis more -pressing business was to look into Louis new book on Fever, which he -was specially interested in, because he had known Louis in Paris, and -had followed many anatomical demonstrations in order to ascertain the -specific differences of typhus and typhoid. He went home and read far -into the smallest hour, bringing a much more testing vision of details -and relations into this pathological study than he had ever thought it -necessary to apply to the complexities of love and marriage, these -being subjects on which he felt himself amply informed by literature, -and that traditional wisdom which is handed down in the genial -conversation of men. Whereas Fever had obscure conditions, and gave him -that delightful labor of the imagination which is not mere -arbitrariness, but the exercise of disciplined powercombining and -constructing with the clearest eye for probabilities and the fullest -obedience to knowledge; and then, in yet more energetic alliance with -impartial Nature, standing aloof to invent tests by which to try its -own work. - -Many men have been praised as vividly imaginative on the strength of -their profuseness in indifferent drawing or cheap narration:reports of -very poor talk going on in distant orbs; or portraits of Lucifer coming -down on his bad errands as a large ugly man with bats wings and spurts -of phosphorescence; or exaggerations of wantonness that seem to reflect -life in a diseased dream. But these kinds of inspiration Lydgate -regarded as rather vulgar and vinous compared with the imagination that -reveals subtle actions inaccessible by any sort of lens, but tracked in -that outer darkness through long pathways of necessary sequence by the -inward light which is the last refinement of Energy, capable of bathing -even the ethereal atoms in its ideally illuminated space. He for his -part had tossed away all cheap inventions where ignorance finds itself -able and at ease: he was enamoured of that arduous invention which is -the very eye of research, provisionally framing its object and -correcting it to more and more exactness of relation; he wanted to -pierce the obscurity of those minute processes which prepare human -misery and joy, those invisible thoroughfares which are the first -lurking-places of anguish, mania, and crime, that delicate poise and -transition which determine the growth of happy or unhappy -consciousness. - -As he threw down his book, stretched his legs towards the embers in the -grate, and clasped his hands at the back of his head, in that agreeable -afterglow of excitement when thought lapses from examination of a -specific object into a suffusive sense of its connections with all the -rest of our existenceseems, as it were, to throw itself on its back -after vigorous swimming and float with the repose of unexhausted -strengthLydgate felt a triumphant delight in his studies, and -something like pity for those less lucky men who were not of his -profession. - -If I had not taken that turn when I was a lad, he thought, I might -have got into some stupid draught-horse work or other, and lived always -in blinkers. I should never have been happy in any profession that did -not call forth the highest intellectual strain, and yet keep me in good -warm contact with my neighbors. There is nothing like the medical -profession for that: one can have the exclusive scientific life that -touches the distance and befriend the old fogies in the parish too. It -is rather harder for a clergyman: Farebrother seems to be an anomaly. - -This last thought brought back the Vincys and all the pictures of the -evening. They floated in his mind agreeably enough, and as he took up -his bed-candle his lips were curled with that incipient smile which is -apt to accompany agreeable recollections. He was an ardent fellow, but -at present his ardor was absorbed in love of his work and in the -ambition of making his life recognized as a factor in the better life -of mankindlike other heroes of science who had nothing but an obscure -country practice to begin with. - -Poor Lydgate! or shall I say, Poor Rosamond! Each lived in a world of -which the other knew nothing. It had not occurred to Lydgate that he -had been a subject of eager meditation to Rosamond, who had neither any -reason for throwing her marriage into distant perspective, nor any -pathological studies to divert her mind from that ruminating habit, -that inward repetition of looks, words, and phrases, which makes a -large part in the lives of most girls. He had not meant to look at her -or speak to her with more than the inevitable amount of admiration and -compliment which a man must give to a beautiful girl; indeed, it seemed -to him that his enjoyment of her music had remained almost silent, for -he feared falling into the rudeness of telling her his great surprise -at her possession of such accomplishment. But Rosamond had registered -every look and word, and estimated them as the opening incidents of a -preconceived romanceincidents which gather value from the foreseen -development and climax. In Rosamonds romance it was not necessary to -imagine much about the inward life of the hero, or of his serious -business in the world: of course, he had a profession and was clever, -as well as sufficiently handsome; but the piquant fact about Lydgate -was his good birth, which distinguished him from all Middlemarch -admirers, and presented marriage as a prospect of rising in rank and -getting a little nearer to that celestial condition on earth in which -she would have nothing to do with vulgar people, and perhaps at last -associate with relatives quite equal to the county people who looked -down on the Middlemarchers. It was part of Rosamonds cleverness to -discern very subtly the faintest aroma of rank, and once when she had -seen the Miss Brookes accompanying their uncle at the county assizes, -and seated among the aristocracy, she had envied them, notwithstanding -their plain dress. - -If you think it incredible that to imagine Lydgate as a man of family -could cause thrills of satisfaction which had anything to do with the -sense that she was in love with him, I will ask you to use your power -of comparison a little more effectively, and consider whether red cloth -and epaulets have never had an influence of that sort. Our passions do -not live apart in locked chambers, but, dressed in their small wardrobe -of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, -feeding out of the common store according to their appetite. - -Rosamond, in fact, was entirely occupied not exactly with Tertius -Lydgate as he was in himself, but with his relation to her; and it was -excusable in a girl who was accustomed to hear that all young men -might, could, would be, or actually were in love with her, to believe -at once that Lydgate could be no exception. His looks and words meant -more to her than other mens, because she cared more for them: she -thought of them diligently, and diligently attended to that perfection -of appearance, behavior, sentiments, and all other elegancies, which -would find in Lydgate a more adequate admirer than she had yet been -conscious of. - -For Rosamond, though she would never do anything that was disagreeable -to her, was industrious; and now more than ever she was active in -sketching her landscapes and market-carts and portraits of friends, in -practising her music, and in being from morning till night her own -standard of a perfect lady, having always an audience in her own -consciousness, with sometimes the not unwelcome addition of a more -variable external audience in the numerous visitors of the house. She -found time also to read the best novels, and even the second best, and -she knew much poetry by heart. Her favorite poem was Lalla Rookh. - -The best girl in the world! He will be a happy fellow who gets her! -was the sentiment of the elderly gentlemen who visited the Vincys; and -the rejected young men thought of trying again, as is the fashion in -country towns where the horizon is not thick with coming rivals. But -Mrs. Plymdale thought that Rosamond had been educated to a ridiculous -pitch, for what was the use of accomplishments which would be all laid -aside as soon as she was married? While her aunt Bulstrode, who had a -sisterly faithfulness towards her brothers family, had two sincere -wishes for Rosamondthat she might show a more serious turn of mind, -and that she might meet with a husband whose wealth corresponded to her -habits. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -The clerkly person smiled and said -Promise was a pretty maid, -But being poor she died unwed. - - -The Rev. Camden Farebrother, whom Lydgate went to see the next evening, -lived in an old parsonage, built of stone, venerable enough to match -the church which it looked out upon. All the furniture too in the house -was old, but with another grade of agethat of Mr. Farebrothers father -and grandfather. There were painted white chairs, with gilding and -wreaths on them, and some lingering red silk damask with slits in it. -There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and other celebrated -lawyers of the last century; and there were old pier-glasses to reflect -them, as well as the little satin-wood tables and the sofas resembling -a prolongation of uneasy chairs, all standing in relief against the -dark wainscot. This was the physiognomy of the drawing-room into which -Lydgate was shown; and there were three ladies to receive him, who were -also old-fashioned, and of a faded but genuine respectability: Mrs. -Farebrother, the Vicars white-haired mother, befrilled and kerchiefed -with dainty cleanliness, upright, quick-eyed, and still under seventy; -Miss Noble, her sister, a tiny old lady of meeker aspect, with frills -and kerchief decidedly more worn and mended; and Miss Winifred -Farebrother, the Vicars elder sister, well-looking like himself, but -nipped and subdued as single women are apt to be who spend their lives -in uninterrupted subjection to their elders. Lydgate had not expected -to see so quaint a group: knowing simply that Mr. Farebrother was a -bachelor, he had thought of being ushered into a snuggery where the -chief furniture would probably be books and collections of natural -objects. The Vicar himself seemed to wear rather a changed aspect, as -most men do when acquaintances made elsewhere see them for the first -time in their own homes; some indeed showing like an actor of genial -parts disadvantageously cast for the curmudgeon in a new piece. This -was not the case with Mr. Farebrother: he seemed a trifle milder and -more silent, the chief talker being his mother, while he only put in a -good-humored moderating remark here and there. The old lady was -evidently accustomed to tell her company what they ought to think, and -to regard no subject as quite safe without her steering. She was -afforded leisure for this function by having all her little wants -attended to by Miss Winifred. Meanwhile tiny Miss Noble carried on her -arm a small basket, into which she diverted a bit of sugar, which she -had first dropped in her saucer as if by mistake; looking round -furtively afterwards, and reverting to her teacup with a small innocent -noise as of a tiny timid quadruped. Pray think no ill of Miss Noble. -That basket held small savings from her more portable food, destined -for the children of her poor friends among whom she trotted on fine -mornings; fostering and petting all needy creatures being so -spontaneous a delight to her, that she regarded it much as if it had -been a pleasant vice that she was addicted to. Perhaps she was -conscious of being tempted to steal from those who had much that she -might give to those who had nothing, and carried in her conscience the -guilt of that repressed desire. One must be poor to know the luxury of -giving! - -Mrs. Farebrother welcomed the guest with a lively formality and -precision. She presently informed him that they were not often in want -of medical aid in that house. She had brought up her children to wear -flannel and not to over-eat themselves, which last habit she considered -the chief reason why people needed doctors. Lydgate pleaded for those -whose fathers and mothers had over-eaten themselves, but Mrs. -Farebrother held that view of things dangerous: Nature was more just -than that; it would be easy for any felon to say that his ancestors -ought to have been hanged instead of him. If those who had bad fathers -and mothers were bad themselves, they were hanged for that. There was -no need to go back on what you couldnt see. - -My mother is like old George the Third, said the Vicar, she objects -to metaphysics. - -I object to what is wrong, Camden. I say, keep hold of a few plain -truths, and make everything square with them. When I was young, Mr. -Lydgate, there never was any question about right and wrong. We knew -our catechism, and that was enough; we learned our creed and our duty. -Every respectable Church person had the same opinions. But now, if you -speak out of the Prayer-book itself, you are liable to be -contradicted. - -That makes rather a pleasant time of it for those who like to maintain -their own point, said Lydgate. - -But my mother always gives way, said the Vicar, slyly. - -No, no, Camden, you must not lead Mr. Lydgate into a mistake about -_me_. I shall never show that disrespect to my parents, to give up what -they taught me. Any one may see what comes of turning. If you change -once, why not twenty times? - -A man might see good arguments for changing once, and not see them for -changing again, said Lydgate, amused with the decisive old lady. - -Excuse me there. If you go upon arguments, they are never wanting, -when a man has no constancy of mind. My father never changed, and he -preached plain moral sermons without arguments, and was a good manfew -better. When you get me a good man made out of arguments, I will get -you a good dinner with reading you the cookery-book. Thats my opinion, -and I think anybodys stomach will bear me out. - -About the dinner certainly, mother, said Mr. Farebrother. - -It is the same thing, the dinner or the man. I am nearly seventy, Mr. -Lydgate, and I go upon experience. I am not likely to follow new -lights, though there are plenty of them here as elsewhere. I say, they -came in with the mixed stuffs that will neither wash nor wear. It was -not so in my youth: a Churchman was a Churchman, and a clergyman, you -might be pretty sure, was a gentleman, if nothing else. But now he may -be no better than a Dissenter, and want to push aside my son on -pretence of doctrine. But whoever may wish to push him aside, I am -proud to say, Mr. Lydgate, that he will compare with any preacher in -this kingdom, not to speak of this town, which is but a low standard to -go by; at least, to my thinking, for I was born and bred at Exeter. - -A mother is never partial, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. What do -you think Tykes mother says about him? - -Ah, poor creature! what indeed? said Mrs. Farebrother, her sharpness -blunted for the moment by her confidence in maternal judgments. She -says the truth to herself, depend upon it. - -And what is the truth? said Lydgate. I am curious to know. - -Oh, nothing bad at all, said Mr. Farebrother. He is a zealous -fellow: not very learned, and not very wise, I thinkbecause I dont -agree with him. - -Why, Camden! said Miss Winifred, Griffin and his wife told me only -to-day, that Mr. Tyke said they should have no more coals if they came -to hear you preach. - -Mrs. Farebrother laid down her knitting, which she had resumed after -her small allowance of tea and toast, and looked at her son as if to -say You hear that? Miss Noble said, Oh poor things! poor things! in -reference, probably, to the double loss of preaching and coal. But the -Vicar answered quietly - -That is because they are not my parishioners. And I dont think my -sermons are worth a load of coals to them. - -Mr. Lydgate, said Mrs. Farebrother, who could not let this pass, you -dont know my son: he always undervalues himself. I tell him he is -undervaluing the God who made him, and made him a most excellent -preacher. - -That must be a hint for me to take Mr. Lydgate away to my study, -mother, said the Vicar, laughing. I promised to show you my -collection, he added, turning to Lydgate; shall we go? - -All three ladies remonstrated. Mr. Lydgate ought not to be hurried away -without being allowed to accept another cup of tea: Miss Winifred had -abundance of good tea in the pot. Why was Camden in such haste to take -a visitor to his den? There was nothing but pickled vermin, and drawers -full of blue-bottles and moths, with no carpet on the floor. Mr. -Lydgate must excuse it. A game at cribbage would be far better. In -short, it was plain that a vicar might be adored by his womankind as -the king of men and preachers, and yet be held by them to stand in much -need of their direction. Lydgate, with the usual shallowness of a young -bachelor, wondered that Mr. Farebrother had not taught them better. - -My mother is not used to my having visitors who can take any interest -in my hobbies, said the Vicar, as he opened the door of his study, -which was indeed as bare of luxuries for the body as the ladies had -implied, unless a short porcelain pipe and a tobacco-box were to be -excepted. - -Men of your profession dont generally smoke, he said. Lydgate smiled -and shook his head. Nor of mine either, properly, I suppose. You will -hear that pipe alleged against me by Bulstrode and Company. They dont -know how pleased the devil would be if I gave it up. - -I understand. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative. I am -heavier, and should get idle with it. I should rush into idleness, and -stagnate there with all my might. - -And you mean to give it all to your work. I am some ten or twelve -years older than you, and have come to a compromise. I feed a weakness -or two lest they should get clamorous. See, continued the Vicar, -opening several small drawers, I fancy I have made an exhaustive study -of the entomology of this district. I am going on both with the fauna -and flora; but I have at least done my insects well. We are singularly -rich in orthoptera: I dont know whetherAh! you have got hold of that -glass jaryou are looking into that instead of my drawers. You dont -really care about these things? - -Not by the side of this lovely anencephalous monster. I have never had -time to give myself much to natural history. I was early bitten with an -interest in structure, and it is what lies most directly in my -profession. I have no hobby besides. I have the sea to swim in there. - -Ah! you are a happy fellow, said Mr. Farebrother, turning on his heel -and beginning to fill his pipe. You dont know what it is to want -spiritual tobaccobad emendations of old texts, or small items about a -variety of Aphis Brassicae, with the well-known signature of -Philomicron, for the Twaddlers Magazine; or a learned treatise on -the entomology of the Pentateuch, including all the insects not -mentioned, but probably met with by the Israelites in their passage -through the desert; with a monograph on the Ant, as treated by Solomon, -showing the harmony of the Book of Proverbs with the results of modern -research. You dont mind my fumigating you? - -Lydgate was more surprised at the openness of this talk than at its -implied meaningthat the Vicar felt himself not altogether in the right -vocation. The neat fitting-up of drawers and shelves, and the bookcase -filled with expensive illustrated books on Natural History, made him -think again of the winnings at cards and their destination. But he was -beginning to wish that the very best construction of everything that -Mr. Farebrother did should be the true one. The Vicars frankness -seemed not of the repulsive sort that comes from an uneasy -consciousness seeking to forestall the judgment of others, but simply -the relief of a desire to do with as little pretence as possible. -Apparently he was not without a sense that his freedom of speech might -seem premature, for he presently said - -I have not yet told you that I have the advantage of you, Mr. Lydgate, -and know you better than you know me. You remember Trawley who shared -your apartment at Paris for some time? I was a correspondent of his, -and he told me a good deal about you. I was not quite sure when you -first came that you were the same man. I was very glad when I found -that you were. Only I dont forget that you have not had the like -prologue about me. - -Lydgate divined some delicacy of feeling here, but did not half -understand it. By the way, he said, what has become of Trawley? I -have quite lost sight of him. He was hot on the French social systems, -and talked of going to the Backwoods to found a sort of Pythagorean -community. Is he gone? - -Not at all. He is practising at a German bath, and has married a rich -patient. - -Then my notions wear the best, so far, said Lydgate, with a short -scornful laugh. He would have it, the medical profession was an -inevitable system of humbug. I said, the fault was in the menmen who -truckle to lies and folly. Instead of preaching against humbug outside -the walls, it might be better to set up a disinfecting apparatus -within. In shortI am reporting my own conversationyou may be sure I -had all the good sense on my side. - -Your scheme is a good deal more difficult to carry out than the -Pythagorean community, though. You have not only got the old Adam in -yourself against you, but you have got all those descendants of the -original Adam who form the society around you. You see, I have paid -twelve or thirteen years more than you for my knowledge of -difficulties. ButMr. Farebrother broke off a moment, and then added, -you are eying that glass vase again. Do you want to make an exchange? -You shall not have it without a fair barter. - -I have some sea-micefine specimensin spirits. And I will throw in -Robert Browns new thingMicroscopic Observations on the Pollen of -Plantsif you dont happen to have it already. - -Why, seeing how you long for the monster, I might ask a higher price. -Suppose I ask you to look through my drawers and agree with me about -all my new species? The Vicar, while he talked in this way, -alternately moved about with his pipe in his mouth, and returned to -hang rather fondly over his drawers. That would be good discipline, -you know, for a young doctor who has to please his patients in -Middlemarch. You must learn to be bored, remember. However, you shall -have the monster on your own terms. - -Dont you think men overrate the necessity for humoring everybodys -nonsense, till they get despised by the very fools they humor? said -Lydgate, moving to Mr. Farebrothers side, and looking rather absently -at the insects ranged in fine gradation, with names subscribed in -exquisite writing. The shortest way is to make your value felt, so -that people must put up with you whether you flatter them or not. - -With all my heart. But then you must be sure of having the value, and -you must keep yourself independent. Very few men can do that. Either -you slip out of service altogether, and become good for nothing, or you -wear the harness and draw a good deal where your yoke-fellows pull you. -But do look at these delicate orthoptera! - -Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each drawer, the Vicar -laughing at himself, and yet persisting in the exhibition. - -Apropos of what you said about wearing harness, Lydgate began, after -they had sat down, I made up my mind some time ago to do with as -little of it as possible. That was why I determined not to try anything -in London, for a good many years at least. I didnt like what I saw -when I was studying thereso much empty bigwiggism, and obstructive -trickery. In the country, people have less pretension to knowledge, and -are less of companions, but for that reason they affect ones -amour-propre less: one makes less bad blood, and can follow ones own -course more quietly. - -Yeswellyou have got a good start; you are in the right profession, -the work you feel yourself most fit for. Some people miss that, and -repent too late. But you must not be too sure of keeping your -independence. - -You mean of family ties? said Lydgate, conceiving that these might -press rather tightly on Mr. Farebrother. - -Not altogether. Of course they make many things more difficult. But a -good wifea good unworldly womanmay really help a man, and keep him -more independent. Theres a parishioner of minea fine fellow, but who -would hardly have pulled through as he has done without his wife. Do -you know the Garths? I think they were not Peacocks patients. - -No; but there is a Miss Garth at old Featherstones, at Lowick. - -Their daughter: an excellent girl. - -She is very quietI have hardly noticed her. - -She has taken notice of you, though, depend upon it. - -I dont understand, said Lydgate; he could hardly say Of course. - -Oh, she gauges everybody. I prepared her for confirmationshe is a -favorite of mine. - -Mr. Farebrother puffed a few moments in silence, Lydgate not caring to -know more about the Garths. At last the Vicar laid down his pipe, -stretched out his legs, and turned his bright eyes with a smile towards -Lydgate, saying - -But we Middlemarchers are not so tame as you take us to be. We have -our intrigues and our parties. I am a party man, for example, and -Bulstrode is another. If you vote for me you will offend Bulstrode. - -What is there against Bulstrode? said Lydgate, emphatically. - -I did not say there was anything against him except that. If you vote -against him you will make him your enemy. - -I dont know that I need mind about that, said Lydgate, rather -proudly; but he seems to have good ideas about hospitals, and he -spends large sums on useful public objects. He might help me a good -deal in carrying out my ideas. As to his religious notionswhy, as -Voltaire said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if -administered with a certain quantity of arsenic. I look for the man who -will bring the arsenic, and dont mind about his incantations. - -Very good. But then you must not offend your arsenic-man. You will not -offend me, you know, said Mr. Farebrother, quite unaffectedly. I -dont translate my own convenience into other peoples duties. I am -opposed to Bulstrode in many ways. I dont like the set he belongs to: -they are a narrow ignorant set, and do more to make their neighbors -uncomfortable than to make them better. Their system is a sort of -worldly-spiritual cliqueism: they really look on the rest of mankind as -a doomed carcass which is to nourish them for heaven. But, he added, -smilingly, I dont say that Bulstrodes new hospital is a bad thing; -and as to his wanting to oust me from the old onewhy, if he thinks me -a mischievous fellow, he is only returning a compliment. And I am not a -model clergymanonly a decent makeshift. - -Lydgate was not at all sure that the Vicar maligned himself. A model -clergyman, like a model doctor, ought to think his own profession the -finest in the world, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to his -moral pathology and therapeutics. He only said, What reason does -Bulstrode give for superseding you? - -That I dont teach his opinionswhich he calls spiritual religion; and -that I have no time to spare. Both statements are true. But then I -could make time, and I should be glad of the forty pounds. That is the -plain fact of the case. But let us dismiss it. I only wanted to tell -you that if you vote for your arsenic-man, you are not to cut me in -consequence. I cant spare you. You are a sort of circumnavigator come -to settle among us, and will keep up my belief in the antipodes. Now -tell me all about them in Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -Oh, sir, the loftiest hopes on earth -Draw lots with meaner hopes: heroic breasts, -Breathing bad air, run risk of pestilence; -Or, lacking lime-juice when they cross the Line, -May languish with the scurvy. - - -Some weeks passed after this conversation before the question of the -chaplaincy gathered any practical import for Lydgate, and without -telling himself the reason, he deferred the predetermination on which -side he should give his vote. It would really have been a matter of -total indifference to himthat is to say, he would have taken the more -convenient side, and given his vote for the appointment of Tyke without -any hesitationif he had not cared personally for Mr. Farebrother. - -But his liking for the Vicar of St. Botolphs grew with growing -acquaintanceship. That, entering into Lydgates position as a new-comer -who had his own professional objects to secure, Mr. Farebrother should -have taken pains rather to warn off than to obtain his interest, showed -an unusual delicacy and generosity, which Lydgates nature was keenly -alive to. It went along with other points of conduct in Mr. Farebrother -which were exceptionally fine, and made his character resemble those -southern landscapes which seem divided between natural grandeur and -social slovenliness. Very few men could have been as filial and -chivalrous as he was to the mother, aunt, and sister, whose dependence -on him had in many ways shaped his life rather uneasily for himself; -few men who feel the pressure of small needs are so nobly resolute not -to dress up their inevitably self-interested desires in a pretext of -better motives. In these matters he was conscious that his life would -bear the closest scrutiny; and perhaps the consciousness encouraged a -little defiance towards the critical strictness of persons whose -celestial intimacies seemed not to improve their domestic manners, and -whose lofty aims were not needed to account for their actions. Then, -his preaching was ingenious and pithy, like the preaching of the -English Church in its robust age, and his sermons were delivered -without book. People outside his parish went to hear him; and, since to -fill the church was always the most difficult part of a clergymans -function, here was another ground for a careless sense of superiority. -Besides, he was a likable man: sweet-tempered, ready-witted, frank, -without grins of suppressed bitterness or other conversational flavors -which make half of us an affliction to our friends. Lydgate liked him -heartily, and wished for his friendship. - -With this feeling uppermost, he continued to waive the question of the -chaplaincy, and to persuade himself that it was not only no proper -business of his, but likely enough never to vex him with a demand for -his vote. Lydgate, at Mr. Bulstrodes request, was laying down plans -for the internal arrangements of the new hospital, and the two were -often in consultation. The banker was always presupposing that he could -count in general on Lydgate as a coadjutor, but made no special -recurrence to the coming decision between Tyke and Farebrother. When -the General Board of the Infirmary had met, however, and Lydgate had -notice that the question of the chaplaincy was thrown on a council of -the directors and medical men, to meet on the following Friday, he had -a vexed sense that he must make up his mind on this trivial Middlemarch -business. He could not help hearing within him the distinct declaration -that Bulstrode was prime minister, and that the Tyke affair was a -question of office or no office; and he could not help an equally -pronounced dislike to giving up the prospect of office. For his -observation was constantly confirming Mr. Farebrothers assurance that -the banker would not overlook opposition. Confound their petty -politics! was one of his thoughts for three mornings in the meditative -process of shaving, when he had begun to feel that he must really hold -a court of conscience on this matter. Certainly there were valid things -to be said against the election of Mr. Farebrother: he had too much on -his hands already, especially considering how much time he spent on -non-clerical occupations. Then again it was a continually repeated -shock, disturbing Lydgates esteem, that the Vicar should obviously -play for the sake of money, liking the play indeed, but evidently -liking some end which it served. Mr. Farebrother contended on theory -for the desirability of all games, and said that Englishmens wit was -stagnant for want of them; but Lydgate felt certain that he would have -played very much less but for the money. There was a billiard-room at -the Green Dragon, which some anxious mothers and wives regarded as the -chief temptation in Middlemarch. The Vicar was a first-rate -billiard-player, and though he did not frequent the Green Dragon, there -were reports that he had sometimes been there in the daytime and had -won money. And as to the chaplaincy, he did not pretend that he cared -for it, except for the sake of the forty pounds. Lydgate was no -Puritan, but he did not care for play, and winning money at it had -always seemed a meanness to him; besides, he had an ideal of life which -made this subservience of conduct to the gaining of small sums -thoroughly hateful to him. Hitherto in his own life his wants had been -supplied without any trouble to himself, and his first impulse was -always to be liberal with half-crowns as matters of no importance to a -gentleman; it had never occurred to him to devise a plan for getting -half-crowns. He had always known in a general way that he was not rich, -but he had never felt poor, and he had no power of imagining the part -which the want of money plays in determining the actions of men. Money -had never been a motive to him. Hence he was not ready to frame excuses -for this deliberate pursuit of small gains. It was altogether repulsive -to him, and he never entered into any calculation of the ratio between -the Vicars income and his more or less necessary expenditure. It was -possible that he would not have made such a calculation in his own -case. - -And now, when the question of voting had come, this repulsive fact told -more strongly against Mr. Farebrother than it had done before. One -would know much better what to do if mens characters were more -consistent, and especially if ones friends were invariably fit for any -function they desired to undertake! Lydgate was convinced that if there -had been no valid objection to Mr. Farebrother, he would have voted for -him, whatever Bulstrode might have felt on the subject: he did not -intend to be a vassal of Bulstrodes. On the other hand, there was -Tyke, a man entirely given to his clerical office, who was simply -curate at a chapel of ease in St. Peters parish, and had time for -extra duty. Nobody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that -they could not bear him, and suspected him of cant. Really, from his -point of view, Bulstrode was thoroughly justified. - -But whichever way Lydgate began to incline, there was something to make -him wince; and being a proud man, he was a little exasperated at being -obliged to wince. He did not like frustrating his own best purposes by -getting on bad terms with Bulstrode; he did not like voting against -Farebrother, and helping to deprive him of function and salary; and the -question occurred whether the additional forty pounds might not leave -the Vicar free from that ignoble care about winning at cards. Moreover, -Lydgate did not like the consciousness that in voting for Tyke he -should be voting on the side obviously convenient for himself. But -would the end really be his own convenience? Other people would say so, -and would allege that he was currying favor with Bulstrode for the sake -of making himself important and getting on in the world. What then? He -for his own part knew that if his personal prospects simply had been -concerned, he would not have cared a rotten nut for the bankers -friendship or enmity. What he really cared for was a medium for his -work, a vehicle for his ideas; and after all, was he not bound to -prefer the object of getting a good hospital, where he could -demonstrate the specific distinctions of fever and test therapeutic -results, before anything else connected with this chaplaincy? For the -first time Lydgate was feeling the hampering threadlike pressure of -small social conditions, and their frustrating complexity. At the end -of his inward debate, when he set out for the hospital, his hope was -really in the chance that discussion might somehow give a new aspect to -the question, and make the scale dip so as to exclude the necessity for -voting. I think he trusted a little also to the energy which is -begotten by circumstancessome feeling rushing warmly and making -resolve easy, while debate in cool blood had only made it more -difficult. However it was, he did not distinctly say to himself on -which side he would vote; and all the while he was inwardly resenting -the subjection which had been forced upon him. It would have seemed -beforehand like a ridiculous piece of bad logic that he, with his -unmixed resolutions of independence and his select purposes, would find -himself at the very outset in the grasp of petty alternatives, each of -which was repugnant to him. In his students chambers, he had -prearranged his social action quite differently. - -Lydgate was late in setting out, but Dr. Sprague, the two other -surgeons, and several of the directors had arrived early; Mr. -Bulstrode, treasurer and chairman, being among those who were still -absent. The conversation seemed to imply that the issue was -problematical, and that a majority for Tyke was not so certain as had -been generally supposed. The two physicians, for a wonder, turned out -to be unanimous, or rather, though of different minds, they concurred -in action. Dr. Sprague, the rugged and weighty, was, as every one had -foreseen, an adherent of Mr. Farebrother. The Doctor was more than -suspected of having no religion, but somehow Middlemarch tolerated this -deficiency in him as if he had been a Lord Chancellor; indeed it is -probable that his professional weight was the more believed in, the -world-old association of cleverness with the evil principle being still -potent in the minds even of lady-patients who had the strictest ideas -of frilling and sentiment. It was perhaps this negation in the Doctor -which made his neighbors call him hard-headed and dry-witted; -conditions of texture which were also held favorable to the storing of -judgments connected with drugs. At all events, it is certain that if -any medical man had come to Middlemarch with the reputation of having -very definite religious views, of being given to prayer, and of -otherwise showing an active piety, there would have been a general -presumption against his medical skill. - -On this ground it was (professionally speaking) fortunate for Dr. -Minchin that his religious sympathies were of a general kind, and such -as gave a distant medical sanction to all serious sentiment, whether of -Church or Dissent, rather than any adhesion to particular tenets. If -Mr. Bulstrode insisted, as he was apt to do, on the Lutheran doctrine -of justification, as that by which a Church must stand or fall, Dr. -Minchin in return was quite sure that man was not a mere machine or a -fortuitous conjunction of atoms; if Mrs. Wimple insisted on a -particular providence in relation to her stomach complaint, Dr. Minchin -for his part liked to keep the mental windows open and objected to -fixed limits; if the Unitarian brewer jested about the Athanasian -Creed, Dr. Minchin quoted Popes Essay on Man. He objected to the -rather free style of anecdote in which Dr. Sprague indulged, preferring -well-sanctioned quotations, and liking refinement of all kinds: it was -generally known that he had some kinship to a bishop, and sometimes -spent his holidays at the palace. - -Dr. Minchin was soft-handed, pale-complexioned, and of rounded outline, -not to be distinguished from a mild clergyman in appearance: whereas -Dr. Sprague was superfluously tall; his trousers got creased at the -knees, and showed an excess of boot at a time when straps seemed -necessary to any dignity of bearing; you heard him go in and out, and -up and down, as if he had come to see after the roofing. In short, he -had weight, and might be expected to grapple with a disease and throw -it; while Dr. Minchin might be better able to detect it lurking and to -circumvent it. They enjoyed about equally the mysterious privilege of -medical reputation, and concealed with much etiquette their contempt -for each others skill. Regarding themselves as Middlemarch -institutions, they were ready to combine against all innovators, and -against non-professionals given to interference. On this ground they -were both in their hearts equally averse to Mr. Bulstrode, though Dr. -Minchin had never been in open hostility with him, and never differed -from him without elaborate explanation to Mrs. Bulstrode, who had found -that Dr. Minchin alone understood her constitution. A layman who pried -into the professional conduct of medical men, and was always obtruding -his reforms,though he was less directly embarrassing to the two -physicians than to the surgeon-apothecaries who attended paupers by -contract, was nevertheless offensive to the professional nostril as -such; and Dr. Minchin shared fully in the new pique against Bulstrode, -excited by his apparent determination to patronize Lydgate. The -long-established practitioners, Mr. Wrench and Mr. Toller; were just -now standing apart and having a friendly colloquy, in which they agreed -that Lydgate was a jackanapes, just made to serve Bulstrodes purpose. -To non-medical friends they had already concurred in praising the other -young practitioner, who had come into the town on Mr. Peacocks -retirement without further recommendation than his own merits and such -argument for solid professional acquirement as might be gathered from -his having apparently wasted no time on other branches of knowledge. It -was clear that Lydgate, by not dispensing drugs, intended to cast -imputations on his equals, and also to obscure the limit between his -own rank as a general practitioner and that of the physicians, who, in -the interest of the profession, felt bound to maintain its various -grades,especially against a man who had not been to either of the -English universities and enjoyed the absence of anatomical and bedside -study there, but came with a libellous pretension to experience in -Edinburgh and Paris, where observation might be abundant indeed, but -hardly sound. - -Thus it happened that on this occasion Bulstrode became identified with -Lydgate, and Lydgate with Tyke; and owing to this variety of -interchangeable names for the chaplaincy question, diverse minds were -enabled to form the same judgment concerning it. - -Dr. Sprague said at once bluntly to the group assembled when he -entered, I go for Farebrother. A salary, with all my heart. But why -take it from the Vicar? He has none too muchhas to insure his life, -besides keeping house, and doing a vicars charities. Put forty pounds -in his pocket and youll do no harm. Hes a good fellow, is -Farebrother, with as little of the parson about him as will serve to -carry orders. - -Ho, ho! Doctor, said old Mr. Powderell, a retired iron-monger of some -standinghis interjection being something between a laugh and a -Parliamentary disapproval; we must let you have your say. But what we -have to consider is not anybodys incomeits the souls of the poor -sick peoplehere Mr. Powderells voice and face had a sincere pathos -in them. He is a real Gospel preacher, is Mr. Tyke. I should vote -against my conscience if I voted against Mr. TykeI should indeed. - -Mr. Tykes opponents have not asked any one to vote against his -conscience, I believe, said Mr. Hackbutt, a rich tanner of fluent -speech, whose glittering spectacles and erect hair were turned with -some severity towards innocent Mr. Powderell. But in my judgment it -behoves us, as Directors, to consider whether we will regard it as our -whole business to carry out propositions emanating from a single -quarter. Will any member of the committee aver that he would have -entertained the idea of displacing the gentleman who has always -discharged the function of chaplain here, if it had not been suggested -to him by parties whose disposition it is to regard every institution -of this town as a machinery for carrying out their own views? I tax no -mans motives: let them lie between himself and a higher Power; but I -do say, that there are influences at work here which are incompatible -with genuine independence, and that a crawling servility is usually -dictated by circumstances which gentlemen so conducting themselves -could not afford either morally or financially to avow. I myself am a -layman, but I have given no inconsiderable attention to the divisions -in the Church and - -Oh, damn the divisions! burst in Mr. Frank Hawley, lawyer and -town-clerk, who rarely presented himself at the board, but now looked -in hurriedly, whip in hand. We have nothing to do with them here. -Farebrother has been doing the workwhat there waswithout pay, and if -pay is to be given, it should be given to him. I call it a confounded -job to take the thing away from Farebrother. - -I think it would be as well for gentlemen not to give their remarks a -personal bearing, said Mr. Plymdale. I shall vote for the appointment -of Mr. Tyke, but I should not have known, if Mr. Hackbutt hadnt hinted -it, that I was a Servile Crawler. - -I disclaim any personalities. I expressly said, if I may be allowed to -repeat, or even to conclude what I was about to say - -Ah, heres Minchin! said Mr. Frank Hawley; at which everybody turned -away from Mr. Hackbutt, leaving him to feel the uselessness of superior -gifts in Middlemarch. Come, Doctor, I must have you on the right side, -eh? - -I hope so, said Dr. Minchin, nodding and shaking hands here and -there; at whatever cost to my feelings. - -If theres any feeling here, it should be feeling for the man who is -turned out, I think, said Mr. Frank Hawley. - -I confess I have feelings on the other side also. I have a divided -esteem, said Dr. Minchin, rubbing his hands. I consider Mr. Tyke an -exemplary mannone more soand I believe him to be proposed from -unimpeachable motives. I, for my part, wish that I could give him my -vote. But I am constrained to take a view of the case which gives the -preponderance to Mr. Farebrothers claims. He is an amiable man, an -able preacher, and has been longer among us. - -Old Mr. Powderell looked on, sad and silent. Mr. Plymdale settled his -cravat, uneasily. - -You dont set up Farebrother as a pattern of what a clergyman ought to -be, I hope, said Mr. Larcher, the eminent carrier, who had just come -in. I have no ill-will towards him, but I think we owe something to -the public, not to speak of anything higher, in these appointments. In -my opinion Farebrother is too lax for a clergyman. I dont wish to -bring up particulars against him; but he will make a little attendance -here go as far as he can. - -And a devilish deal better than too much, said Mr. Hawley, whose bad -language was notorious in that part of the county. Sick people cant -bear so much praying and preaching. And that methodistical sort of -religion is bad for the spiritsbad for the inside, eh? he added, -turning quickly round to the four medical men who were assembled. - -But any answer was dispensed with by the entrance of three gentlemen, -with whom there were greetings more or less cordial. These were the -Reverend Edward Thesiger, Rector of St. Peters, Mr. Bulstrode, and our -friend Mr. Brooke of Tipton, who had lately allowed himself to be put -on the board of directors in his turn, but had never before attended, -his attendance now being due to Mr. Bulstrodes exertions. Lydgate was -the only person still expected. - -Every one now sat down, Mr. Bulstrode presiding, pale and -self-restrained as usual. Mr. Thesiger, a moderate evangelical, wished -for the appointment of his friend Mr. Tyke, a zealous able man, who, -officiating at a chapel of ease, had not a cure of souls too extensive -to leave him ample time for the new duty. It was desirable that -chaplaincies of this kind should be entered on with a fervent -intention: they were peculiar opportunities for spiritual influence; -and while it was good that a salary should be allotted, there was the -more need for scrupulous watching lest the office should be perverted -into a mere question of salary. Mr. Thesigers manner had so much quiet -propriety that objectors could only simmer in silence. - -Mr. Brooke believed that everybody meant well in the matter. He had not -himself attended to the affairs of the Infirmary, though he had a -strong interest in whatever was for the benefit of Middlemarch, and was -most happy to meet the gentlemen present on any public questionany -public question, you know, Mr. Brooke repeated, with his nod of -perfect understanding. I am a good deal occupied as a magistrate, and -in the collection of documentary evidence, but I regard my time as -being at the disposal of the publicand, in short, my friends have -convinced me that a chaplain with a salarya salary, you knowis a very -good thing, and I am happy to be able to come here and vote for the -appointment of Mr. Tyke, who, I understand, is an unexceptionable man, -apostolic and eloquent and everything of that kindand I am the last -man to withhold my voteunder the circumstances, you know. - -It seems to me that you have been crammed with one side of the -question, Mr. Brooke, said Mr. Frank Hawley, who was afraid of nobody, -and was a Tory suspicious of electioneering intentions. You dont seem -to know that one of the worthiest men we have has been doing duty as -chaplain here for years without pay, and that Mr. Tyke is proposed to -supersede him. - -Excuse me, Mr. Hawley, said Mr. Bulstrode. Mr. Brooke has been fully -informed of Mr. Farebrothers character and position. - -By his enemies, flashed out Mr. Hawley. - -I trust there is no personal hostility concerned here, said Mr. -Thesiger. - -Ill swear there is, though, retorted Mr. Hawley. - -Gentlemen, said Mr. Bulstrode, in a subdued tone, the merits of the -question may be very briefly stated, and if any one present doubts that -every gentleman who is about to give his vote has not been fully -informed, I can now recapitulate the considerations that should weigh -on either side. - -I dont see the good of that, said Mr. Hawley. I suppose we all know -whom we mean to vote for. Any man who wants to do justice does not wait -till the last minute to hear both sides of the question. I have no time -to lose, and I propose that the matter be put to the vote at once. - -A brief but still hot discussion followed before each person wrote -Tyke or Farebrother on a piece of paper and slipped it into a glass -tumbler; and in the mean time Mr. Bulstrode saw Lydgate enter. - -I perceive that the votes are equally divided at present, said Mr. -Bulstrode, in a clear biting voice. Then, looking up at Lydgate - -There is a casting-vote still to be given. It is yours, Mr. Lydgate: -will you be good enough to write? - -The thing is settled now, said Mr. Wrench, rising. We all know how -Mr. Lydgate will vote. - -You seem to speak with some peculiar meaning, sir, said Lydgate, -rather defiantly, and keeping his pencil suspended. - -I merely mean that you are expected to vote with Mr. Bulstrode. Do you -regard that meaning as offensive? - -It may be offensive to others. But I shall not desist from voting with -him on that account. Lydgate immediately wrote down Tyke. - -So the Rev. Walter Tyke became chaplain to the Infirmary, and Lydgate -continued to work with Mr. Bulstrode. He was really uncertain whether -Tyke were not the more suitable candidate, and yet his consciousness -told him that if he had been quite free from indirect bias he should -have voted for Mr. Farebrother. The affair of the chaplaincy remained a -sore point in his memory as a case in which this petty medium of -Middlemarch had been too strong for him. How could a man be satisfied -with a decision between such alternatives and under such circumstances? -No more than he can be satisfied with his hat, which he has chosen from -among such shapes as the resources of the age offer him, wearing it at -best with a resignation which is chiefly supported by comparison. - -But Mr. Farebrother met him with the same friendliness as before. The -character of the publican and sinner is not always practically -incompatible with that of the modern Pharisee, for the majority of us -scarcely see more distinctly the faultiness of our own conduct than the -faultiness of our own arguments, or the dulness of our own jokes. But -the Vicar of St. Botolphs had certainly escaped the slightest tincture -of the Pharisee, and by dint of admitting to himself that he was too -much as other men were, he had become remarkably unlike them in -thisthat he could excuse others for thinking slightly of him, and -could judge impartially of their conduct even when it told against him. - -The world has been too strong for _me_, I know, he said one day to -Lydgate. But then I am not a mighty manI shall never be a man of -renown. The choice of Hercules is a pretty fable; but Prodicus makes it -easy work for the hero, as if the first resolves were enough. Another -story says that he came to hold the distaff, and at last wore the -Nessus shirt. I suppose one good resolve might keep a man right if -everybody elses resolve helped him. - -The Vicars talk was not always inspiriting: he had escaped being a -Pharisee, but he had not escaped that low estimate of possibilities -which we rather hastily arrive at as an inference from our own failure. -Lydgate thought that there was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. -Farebrother. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -L altra vedete chha fatto alla guancia -Della sua palma, sospirando, letto. -_Purgatorio_, vii. - - -When George the Fourth was still reigning over the privacies of -Windsor, when the Duke of Wellington was Prime Minister, and Mr. Vincy -was mayor of the old corporation in Middlemarch, Mrs. Casaubon, born -Dorothea Brooke, had taken her wedding journey to Rome. In those days -the world in general was more ignorant of good and evil by forty years -than it is at present. Travellers did not often carry full information -on Christian art either in their heads or their pockets; and even the -most brilliant English critic of the day mistook the flower-flushed -tomb of the ascended Virgin for an ornamental vase due to the painters -fancy. Romanticism, which has helped to fill some dull blanks with love -and knowledge, had not yet penetrated the times with its leaven and -entered into everybodys food; it was fermenting still as a -distinguishable vigorous enthusiasm in certain long-haired German -artists at Rome, and the youth of other nations who worked or idled -near them were sometimes caught in the spreading movement. - -One fine morning a young man whose hair was not immoderately long, but -abundant and curly, and who was otherwise English in his equipment, had -just turned his back on the Belvedere Torso in the Vatican and was -looking out on the magnificent view of the mountains from the adjoining -round vestibule. He was sufficiently absorbed not to notice the -approach of a dark-eyed, animated German who came up to him and placing -a hand on his shoulder, said with a strong accent, Come here, quick! -else she will have changed her pose. - -Quickness was ready at the call, and the two figures passed lightly -along by the Meleager, towards the hall where the reclining Ariadne, -then called the Cleopatra, lies in the marble voluptuousness of her -beauty, the drapery folding around her with a petal-like ease and -tenderness. They were just in time to see another figure standing -against a pedestal near the reclining marble: a breathing blooming -girl, whose form, not shamed by the Ariadne, was clad in Quakerish gray -drapery; her long cloak, fastened at the neck, was thrown backward from -her arms, and one beautiful ungloved hand pillowed her cheek, pushing -somewhat backward the white beaver bonnet which made a sort of halo to -her face around the simply braided dark-brown hair. She was not looking -at the sculpture, probably not thinking of it: her large eyes were -fixed dreamily on a streak of sunlight which fell across the floor. But -she became conscious of the two strangers who suddenly paused as if to -contemplate the Cleopatra, and, without looking at them, immediately -turned away to join a maid-servant and courier who were loitering along -the hall at a little distance off. - -What do you think of that for a fine bit of antithesis? said the -German, searching in his friends face for responding admiration, but -going on volubly without waiting for any other answer. There lies -antique beauty, not corpse-like even in death, but arrested in the -complete contentment of its sensuous perfection: and here stands beauty -in its breathing life, with the consciousness of Christian centuries in -its bosom. But she should be dressed as a nun; I think she looks almost -what you call a Quaker; I would dress her as a nun in my picture. -However, she is married; I saw her wedding-ring on that wonderful left -hand, otherwise I should have thought the sallow _Geistlicher_ was her -father. I saw him parting from her a good while ago, and just now I -found her in that magnificent pose. Only think! he is perhaps rich, and -would like to have her portrait taken. Ah! it is no use looking after -herthere she goes! Let us follow her home! - -No, no, said his companion, with a little frown. - -You are singular, Ladislaw. You look struck together. Do you know -her? - -I know that she is married to my cousin, said Will Ladislaw, -sauntering down the hall with a preoccupied air, while his German -friend kept at his side and watched him eagerly. - -What! the _Geistlicher_? He looks more like an unclea more useful -sort of relation. - -He is not my uncle. I tell you he is my second cousin, said Ladislaw, -with some irritation. - -Schn, schn. Dont be snappish. You are not angry with me for -thinking Mrs. Second-Cousin the most perfect young Madonna I ever saw? - -Angry? nonsense. I have only seen her once before, for a couple of -minutes, when my cousin introduced her to me, just before I left -England. They were not married then. I didnt know they were coming to -Rome. - -But you will go to see them nowyou will find out what they have for -an addresssince you know the name. Shall we go to the post? And you -could speak about the portrait. - -Confound you, Naumann! I dont know what I shall do. I am not so -brazen as you. - -Bah! that is because you are dilettantish and amateurish. If you were -an artist, you would think of Mistress Second-Cousin as antique form -animated by Christian sentimenta sort of Christian Antigonesensuous -force controlled by spiritual passion. - -Yes, and that your painting her was the chief outcome of her -existencethe divinity passing into higher completeness and all but -exhausted in the act of covering your bit of canvas. I am amateurish if -you like: I do _not_ think that all the universe is straining towards -the obscure significance of your pictures. - -But it is, my dear!so far as it is straining through me, Adolf -Naumann: that stands firm, said the good-natured painter, putting a -hand on Ladislaws shoulder, and not in the least disturbed by the -unaccountable touch of ill-humor in his tone. See now! My existence -presupposes the existence of the whole universedoes it _not?_ and my -function is to paintand as a painter I have a conception which is -altogether _genialisch_, of your great-aunt or second grandmother as a -subject for a picture; therefore, the universe is straining towards -that picture through that particular hook or claw which it puts forth -in the shape of menot true? - -But how if another claw in the shape of me is straining to thwart -it?the case is a little less simple then. - -Not at all: the result of the struggle is the same thingpicture or no -picturelogically. - -Will could not resist this imperturbable temper, and the cloud in his -face broke into sunshiny laughter. - -Come now, my friendyou will help? said Naumann, in a hopeful tone. - -No; nonsense, Naumann! English ladies are not at everybodys service -as models. And you want to express too much with your painting. You -would only have made a better or worse portrait with a background which -every connoisseur would give a different reason for or against. And -what is a portrait of a woman? Your painting and Plastik are poor stuff -after all. They perturb and dull conceptions instead of raising them. -Language is a finer medium. - -Yes, for those who cant paint, said Naumann. There you have perfect -right. I did not recommend you to paint, my friend. - -The amiable artist carried his sting, but Ladislaw did not choose to -appear stung. He went on as if he had not heard. - -Language gives a fuller image, which is all the better for being -vague. After all, the true seeing is within; and painting stares at you -with an insistent imperfection. I feel that especially about -representations of women. As if a woman were a mere colored -superficies! You must wait for movement and tone. There is a difference -in their very breathing: they change from moment to moment.This woman -whom you have just seen, for example: how would you paint her voice, -pray? But her voice is much diviner than anything you have seen of -her. - -I see, I see. You are jealous. No man must presume to think that he -can paint your ideal. This is serious, my friend! Your great-aunt! Der -Neffe als Onkel in a tragic sense_ungeheuer!_ - -You and I shall quarrel, Naumann, if you call that lady my aunt -again. - -How is she to be called then? - -Mrs. Casaubon. - -Good. Suppose I get acquainted with her in spite of you, and find that -she very much wishes to be painted? - -Yes, suppose! said Will Ladislaw, in a contemptuous undertone, -intended to dismiss the subject. He was conscious of being irritated by -ridiculously small causes, which were half of his own creation. Why was -he making any fuss about Mrs. Casaubon? And yet he felt as if something -had happened to him with regard to her. There are characters which are -continually creating collisions and nodes for themselves in dramas -which nobody is prepared to act with them. Their susceptibilities will -clash against objects that remain innocently quiet. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -A child forsaken, waking suddenly, -Whose gaze afeard on all things round doth rove, -And seeth only that it cannot see - The meeting eyes of love. - - -Two hours later, Dorothea was seated in an inner room or boudoir of a -handsome apartment in the Via Sistina. - -I am sorry to add that she was sobbing bitterly, with such abandonment -to this relief of an oppressed heart as a woman habitually controlled -by pride on her own account and thoughtfulness for others will -sometimes allow herself when she feels securely alone. And Mr. Casaubon -was certain to remain away for some time at the Vatican. - -Yet Dorothea had no distinctly shapen grievance that she could state -even to herself; and in the midst of her confused thought and passion, -the mental act that was struggling forth into clearness was a -self-accusing cry that her feeling of desolation was the fault of her -own spiritual poverty. She had married the man of her choice, and with -the advantage over most girls that she had contemplated her marriage -chiefly as the beginning of new duties: from the very first she had -thought of Mr. Casaubon as having a mind so much above her own, that he -must often be claimed by studies which she could not entirely share; -moreover, after the brief narrow experience of her girlhood she was -beholding Rome, the city of visible history, where the past of a whole -hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral -images and trophies gathered from afar. - -But this stupendous fragmentariness heightened the dreamlike -strangeness of her bridal life. Dorothea had now been five weeks in -Rome, and in the kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to go -hand in hand like a happy aged couple one of whom would presently -survive in chiller loneliness, she had driven about at first with Mr. -Casaubon, but of late chiefly with Tantripp and their experienced -courier. She had been led through the best galleries, had been taken to -the chief points of view, had been shown the grandest ruins and the -most glorious churches, and she had ended by oftenest choosing to drive -out to the Campagna where she could feel alone with the earth and sky, -away-from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in which her own life too -seemed to become a masque with enigmatical costumes. - -To those who have looked at Rome with the quickening power of a -knowledge which breathes a growing soul into all historic shapes, and -traces out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome -may still be the spiritual centre and interpreter of the world. But let -them conceive one more historical contrast: the gigantic broken -revelations of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the -notions of a girl who had been brought up in English and Swiss -Puritanism, fed on meagre Protestant histories and on art chiefly of -the hand-screen sort; a girl whose ardent nature turned all her small -allowance of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their -mould, and whose quick emotions gave the most abstract things the -quality of a pleasure or a pain; a girl who had lately become a wife, -and from the enthusiastic acceptance of untried duty found herself -plunged in tumultuous preoccupation with her personal lot. The weight -of unintelligible Rome might lie easily on bright nymphs to whom it -formed a background for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; -but Dorothea had no such defence against deep impressions. Ruins and -basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the midst of a sordid present, -where all that was living and warm-blooded seemed sunk in the deep -degeneracy of a superstition divorced from reverence; the dimmer but -yet eager Titanic life gazing and struggling on walls and ceilings; the -long vistas of white forms whose marble eyes seemed to hold the -monotonous light of an alien world: all this vast wreck of ambitious -ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the signs of -breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first jarred her as with an -electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with that ache -belonging to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion. -Forms both pale and glowing took possession of her young sense, and -fixed themselves in her memory even when she was not thinking of them, -preparing strange associations which remained through her after-years. -Our moods are apt to bring with them images which succeed each other -like the magic-lantern pictures of a doze; and in certain states of -dull forlornness Dorothea all her life continued to see the vastness of -St. Peters, the huge bronze canopy, the excited intention in the -attitudes and garments of the prophets and evangelists in the mosaics -above, and the red drapery which was being hung for Christmas spreading -itself everywhere like a disease of the retina. - -Not that this inward amazement of Dorotheas was anything very -exceptional: many souls in their young nudity are tumbled out among -incongruities and left to find their feet among them, while their -elders go about their business. Nor can I suppose that when Mrs. -Casaubon is discovered in a fit of weeping six weeks after her wedding, -the situation will be regarded as tragic. Some discouragement, some -faintness of heart at the new real future which replaces the imaginary, -is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply moved by what -is not unusual. That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of -frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of -mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had -a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like -hearing the grass grow and the squirrels heart beat, and we should die -of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the -quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity. - -However, Dorothea was crying, and if she had been required to state the -cause, she could only have done so in some such general words as I have -already used: to have been driven to be more particular would have been -like trying to give a history of the lights and shadows, for that new -real future which was replacing the imaginary drew its material from -the endless minutiae by which her view of Mr. Casaubon and her wifely -relation, now that she was married to him, was gradually changing with -the secret motion of a watch-hand from what it had been in her maiden -dream. It was too early yet for her fully to recognize or at least -admit the change, still more for her to have readjusted that -devotedness which was so necessary a part of her mental life that she -was almost sure sooner or later to recover it. Permanent rebellion, the -disorder of a life without some loving reverent resolve, was not -possible to her; but she was now in an interval when the very force of -her nature heightened its confusion. In this way, the early months of -marriage often are times of critical tumultwhether that of a -shrimp-pool or of deeper waterswhich afterwards subsides into cheerful -peace. - -But was not Mr. Casaubon just as learned as before? Had his forms of -expression changed, or his sentiments become less laudable? Oh -waywardness of womanhood! did his chronology fail him, or his ability -to state not only a theory but the names of those who held it; or his -provision for giving the heads of any subject on demand? And was not -Rome the place in all the world to give free play to such -accomplishments? Besides, had not Dorotheas enthusiasm especially -dwelt on the prospect of relieving the weight and perhaps the sadness -with which great tasks lie on him who has to achieve them? And that -such weight pressed on Mr. Casaubon was only plainer than before. - -All these are crushing questions; but whatever else remained the same, -the light had changed, and you cannot find the pearly dawn at noonday. -The fact is unalterable, that a fellow-mortal with whose nature you are -acquainted solely through the brief entrances and exits of a few -imaginative weeks called courtship, may, when seen in the continuity of -married companionship, be disclosed as something better or worse than -what you have preconceived, but will certainly not appear altogether -the same. And it would be astonishing to find how soon the change is -felt if we had no kindred changes to compare with it. To share lodgings -with a brilliant dinner-companion, or to see your favorite politician -in the Ministry, may bring about changes quite as rapid: in these cases -too we begin by knowing little and believing much, and we sometimes end -by inverting the quantities. - -Still, such comparisons might mislead, for no man was more incapable of -flashy make-believe than Mr. Casaubon: he was as genuine a character as -any ruminant animal, and he had not actively assisted in creating any -illusions about himself. How was it that in the weeks since her -marriage, Dorothea had not distinctly observed but felt with a stifling -depression, that the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had -dreamed of finding in her husbands mind were replaced by anterooms and -winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither? I suppose it was that -in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and -the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken to guarantee -delightful stores which the broad leisure of marriage will reveal. But -the door-sill of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on -the present. Having once embarked on your marital voyage, it is -impossible not to be aware that you make no way and that the sea is not -within sightthat, in fact, you are exploring an enclosed basin. - -In their conversation before marriage, Mr. Casaubon had often dwelt on -some explanation or questionable detail of which Dorothea did not see -the bearing; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to the brokenness -of their intercourse, and, supported by her faith in their future, she -had listened with fervid patience to a recitation of possible arguments -to be brought against Mr. Casaubons entirely new view of the -Philistine god Dagon and other fish-deities, thinking that hereafter -she should see this subject which touched him so nearly from the same -high ground whence doubtless it had become so important to him. Again, -the matter-of-course statement and tone of dismissal with which he -treated what to her were the most stirring thoughts, was easily -accounted for as belonging to the sense of haste and preoccupation in -which she herself shared during their engagement. But now, since they -had been in Rome, with all the depths of her emotion roused to -tumultuous activity, and with life made a new problem by new elements, -she had been becoming more and more aware, with a certain terror, that -her mind was continually sliding into inward fits of anger and -repulsion, or else into forlorn weariness. How far the judicious Hooker -or any other hero of erudition would have been the same at Mr. -Casaubons time of life, she had no means of knowing, so that he could -not have the advantage of comparison; but her husbands way of -commenting on the strangely impressive objects around them had begun to -affect her with a sort of mental shiver: he had perhaps the best -intention of acquitting himself worthily, but only of acquitting -himself. What was fresh to her mind was worn out to his; and such -capacity of thought and feeling as had ever been stimulated in him by -the general life of mankind had long shrunk to a sort of dried -preparation, a lifeless embalmment of knowledge. - -When he said, Does this interest you, Dorothea? Shall we stay a little -longer? I am ready to stay if you wish it,it seemed to her as if -going or staying were alike dreary. Or, Should you like to go to the -Farnesina, Dorothea? It contains celebrated frescos designed or painted -by Raphael, which most persons think it worth while to visit. - -But do you care about them? was always Dorotheas question. - -They are, I believe, highly esteemed. Some of them represent the fable -of Cupid and Psyche, which is probably the romantic invention of a -literary period, and cannot, I think, be reckoned as a genuine mythical -product. But if you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive -thither; and you will then, I think, have seen the chief works of -Raphael, any of which it were a pity to omit in a visit to Rome. He is -the painter who has been held to combine the most complete grace of -form with sublimity of expression. Such at least I have gathered to be -the opinion of cognoscenti. - -This kind of answer given in a measured official tone, as of a -clergyman reading according to the rubric, did not help to justify the -glories of the Eternal City, or to give her the hope that if she knew -more about them the world would be joyously illuminated for her. There -is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than -that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in -a blank absence of interest or sympathy. - -On other subjects indeed Mr. Casaubon showed a tenacity of occupation -and an eagerness which are usually regarded as the effect of -enthusiasm, and Dorothea was anxious to follow this spontaneous -direction of his thoughts, instead of being made to feel that she -dragged him away from it. But she was gradually ceasing to expect with -her former delightful confidence that she should see any wide opening -where she followed him. Poor Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small -closets and winding stairs, and in an agitated dimness about the -Cabeiri, or in an exposure of other mythologists ill-considered -parallels, easily lost sight of any purpose which had prompted him to -these labors. With his taper stuck before him he forgot the absence of -windows, and in bitter manuscript remarks on other mens notions about -the solar deities, he had become indifferent to the sunlight. - -These characteristics, fixed and unchangeable as bone in Mr. Casaubon, -might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she had been -encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feelingif he would -have held her hands between his and listened with the delight of -tenderness and understanding to all the little histories which made up -her experience, and would have given her the same sort of intimacy in -return, so that the past life of each could be included in their mutual -knowledge and affectionor if she could have fed her affection with -those childlike caresses which are the bent of every sweet woman, who -has begun by showering kisses on the hard pate of her bald doll, -creating a happy soul within that woodenness from the wealth of her own -love. That was Dorotheas bent. With all her yearning to know what was -afar from her and to be widely benignant, she had ardor enough for what -was near, to have kissed Mr. Casaubons coat-sleeve, or to have -caressed his shoe-latchet, if he would have made any other sign of -acceptance than pronouncing her, with his unfailing propriety, to be of -a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the same -time by politely reaching a chair for her that he regarded these -manifestations as rather crude and startling. Having made his clerical -toilet with due care in the morning, he was prepared only for those -amenities of life which were suited to the well-adjusted stiff cravat -of the period, and to a mind weighted with unpublished matter. - -And by a sad contradiction Dorotheas ideas and resolves seemed like -melting ice floating and lost in the warm flood of which they had been -but another form. She was humiliated to find herself a mere victim of -feeling, as if she could know nothing except through that medium: all -her strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of -despondency, and then again in visions of more complete renunciation, -transforming all hard conditions into duty. Poor Dorothea! she was -certainly troublesometo herself chiefly; but this morning for the -first time she had been troublesome to Mr. Casaubon. - -She had begun, while they were taking coffee, with a determination to -shake off what she inwardly called her selfishness, and turned a face -all cheerful attention to her husband when he said, My dear Dorothea, -we must now think of all that is yet left undone, as a preliminary to -our departure. I would fain have returned home earlier that we might -have been at Lowick for the Christmas; but my inquiries here have been -protracted beyond their anticipated period. I trust, however, that the -time here has not been passed unpleasantly to you. Among the sights of -Europe, that of Rome has ever been held one of the most striking and in -some respects edifying. I well remember that I considered it an epoch -in my life when I visited it for the first time; after the fall of -Napoleon, an event which opened the Continent to travellers. Indeed I -think it is one among several cities to which an extreme hyperbole has -been appliedSee Rome and die: but in your case I would propose an -emendation and say, See Rome as a bride, and live henceforth as a happy -wife. - -Mr. Casaubon pronounced this little speech with the most conscientious -intention, blinking a little and swaying his head up and down, and -concluding with a smile. He had not found marriage a rapturous state, -but he had no idea of being anything else than an irreproachable -husband, who would make a charming young woman as happy as she deserved -to be. - -I hope you are thoroughly satisfied with our stayI mean, with the -result so far as your studies are concerned, said Dorothea, trying to -keep her mind fixed on what most affected her husband. - -Yes, said Mr. Casaubon, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes -the word half a negative. I have been led farther than I had foreseen, -and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, -though I have no direct need of them, I could not pretermit. The task, -notwithstanding the assistance of my amanuensis, has been a somewhat -laborious one, but your society has happily prevented me from that too -continuous prosecution of thought beyond the hours of study which has -been the snare of my solitary life. - -I am very glad that my presence has made any difference to you, said -Dorothea, who had a vivid memory of evenings in which she had supposed -that Mr. Casaubons mind had gone too deep during the day to be able to -get to the surface again. I fear there was a little temper in her -reply. I hope when we get to Lowick, I shall be more useful to you, -and be able to enter a little more into what interests you. - -Doubtless, my dear, said Mr. Casaubon, with a slight bow. The notes -I have here made will want sifting, and you can, if you please, extract -them under my direction. - -And all your notes, said Dorothea, whose heart had already burned -within her on this subject, so that now she could not help speaking -with her tongue. All those rows of volumeswill you not now do what -you used to speak of?will you not make up your mind what part of them -you will use, and begin to write the book which will make your vast -knowledge useful to the world? I will write to your dictation, or I -will copy and extract what you tell me: I can be of no other use. -Dorothea, in a most unaccountable, darkly feminine manner, ended with a -slight sob and eyes full of tears. - -The excessive feeling manifested would alone have been highly -disturbing to Mr. Casaubon, but there were other reasons why Dorotheas -words were among the most cutting and irritating to him that she could -have been impelled to use. She was as blind to his inward troubles as -he to hers: she had not yet learned those hidden conflicts in her -husband which claim our pity. She had not yet listened patiently to his -heartbeats, but only felt that her own was beating violently. In Mr. -Casaubons ear, Dorotheas voice gave loud emphatic iteration to those -muffled suggestions of consciousness which it was possible to explain -as mere fancy, the illusion of exaggerated sensitiveness: always when -such suggestions are unmistakably repeated from without, they are -resisted as cruel and unjust. We are angered even by the full -acceptance of our humiliating confessionshow much more by hearing in -hard distinct syllables from the lips of a near observer, those -confused murmurs which we try to call morbid, and strive against as if -they were the oncoming of numbness! And this cruel outward accuser was -there in the shape of a wifenay, of a young bride, who, instead of -observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the -uncritical awe of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to present -herself as a spy watching everything with a malign power of inference. -Here, towards this particular point of the compass, Mr. Casaubon had a -sensitiveness to match Dorotheas, and an equal quickness to imagine -more than the fact. He had formerly observed with approbation her -capacity for worshipping the right object; he now foresaw with sudden -terror that this capacity might be replaced by presumption, this -worship by the most exasperating of all criticism,that which sees -vaguely a great many fine ends, and has not the least notion what it -costs to reach them. - -For the first time since Dorothea had known him, Mr. Casaubons face -had a quick angry flush upon it. - -My love, he said, with irritation reined in by propriety, you may -rely upon me for knowing the times and the seasons, adapted to the -different stages of a work which is not to be measured by the facile -conjectures of ignorant onlookers. It had been easy for me to gain a -temporary effect by a mirage of baseless opinion; but it is ever the -trial of the scrupulous explorer to be saluted with the impatient scorn -of chatterers who attempt only the smallest achievements, being indeed -equipped for no other. And it were well if all such could be admonished -to discriminate judgments of which the true subject-matter lies -entirely beyond their reach, from those of which the elements may be -compassed by a narrow and superficial survey. - -This speech was delivered with an energy and readiness quite unusual -with Mr. Casaubon. It was not indeed entirely an improvisation, but had -taken shape in inward colloquy, and rushed out like the round grains -from a fruit when sudden heat cracks it. Dorothea was not only his -wife: she was a personification of that shallow world which surrounds -the appreciated or desponding author. - -Dorothea was indignant in her turn. Had she not been repressing -everything in herself except the desire to enter into some fellowship -with her husbands chief interests? - -My judgment _was_ a very superficial onesuch as I am capable of -forming, she answered, with a prompt resentment, that needed no -rehearsal. You showed me the rows of notebooksyou have often spoken -of themyou have often said that they wanted digesting. But I never -heard you speak of the writing that is to be published. Those were very -simple facts, and my judgment went no farther. I only begged you to let -me be of some good to you. - -Dorothea rose to leave the table and Mr. Casaubon made no reply, taking -up a letter which lay beside him as if to reperuse it. Both were -shocked at their mutual situationthat each should have betrayed anger -towards the other. If they had been at home, settled at Lowick in -ordinary life among their neighbors, the clash would have been less -embarrassing: but on a wedding journey, the express object of which is -to isolate two people on the ground that they are all the world to each -other, the sense of disagreement is, to say the least, confounding and -stultifying. To have changed your longitude extensively and placed -yourselves in a moral solitude in order to have small explosions, to -find conversation difficult and to hand a glass of water without -looking, can hardly be regarded as satisfactory fulfilment even to the -toughest minds. To Dorotheas inexperienced sensitiveness, it seemed -like a catastrophe, changing all prospects; and to Mr. Casaubon it was -a new pain, he never having been on a wedding journey before, or found -himself in that close union which was more of a subjection than he had -been able to imagine, since this charming young bride not only obliged -him to much consideration on her behalf (which he had sedulously -given), but turned out to be capable of agitating him cruelly just -where he most needed soothing. Instead of getting a soft fence against -the cold, shadowy, unapplausive audience of his life, had he only given -it a more substantial presence? - -Neither of them felt it possible to speak again at present. To have -reversed a previous arrangement and declined to go out would have been -a show of persistent anger which Dorotheas conscience shrank from, -seeing that she already began to feel herself guilty. However just her -indignation might be, her ideal was not to claim justice, but to give -tenderness. So when the carriage came to the door, she drove with Mr. -Casaubon to the Vatican, walked with him through the stony avenue of -inscriptions, and when she parted with him at the entrance to the -Library, went on through the Museum out of mere listlessness as to what -was around her. She had not spirit to turn round and say that she would -drive anywhere. It was when Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that Naumann -had first seen her, and he had entered the long gallery of sculpture at -the same time with her; but here Naumann had to await Ladislaw with -whom he was to settle a bet of champagne about an enigmatical -mediaeval-looking figure there. After they had examined the figure, and -had walked on finishing their dispute, they had parted, Ladislaw -lingering behind while Naumann had gone into the Hall of Statues where -he again saw Dorothea, and saw her in that brooding abstraction which -made her pose remarkable. She did not really see the streak of sunlight -on the floor more than she saw the statues: she was inwardly seeing the -light of years to come in her own home and over the English fields and -elms and hedge-bordered highroads; and feeling that the way in which -they might be filled with joyful devotedness was not so clear to her as -it had been. But in Dorotheas mind there was a current into which all -thought and feeling were apt sooner or later to flowthe reaching -forward of the whole consciousness towards the fullest truth, the least -partial good. There was clearly something better than anger and -despondency. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -Hire facounde eke full womanly and plain, -No contrefeted termes had she -To semen wise. -CHAUCER. - - -It was in that way Dorothea came to be sobbing as soon as she was -securely alone. But she was presently roused by a knock at the door, -which made her hastily dry her eyes before saying, Come in. Tantripp -had brought a card, and said that there was a gentleman waiting in the -lobby. The courier had told him that only Mrs. Casaubon was at home, -but he said he was a relation of Mr. Casaubons: would she see him? - -Yes, said Dorothea, without pause; show him into the salon. Her -chief impressions about young Ladislaw were that when she had seen him -at Lowick she had been made aware of Mr. Casaubons generosity towards -him, and also that she had been interested in his own hesitation about -his career. She was alive to anything that gave her an opportunity for -active sympathy, and at this moment it seemed as if the visit had come -to shake her out of her self-absorbed discontentto remind her of her -husbands goodness, and make her feel that she had now the right to be -his helpmate in all kind deeds. She waited a minute or two, but when -she passed into the next room there were just signs enough that she had -been crying to make her open face look more youthful and appealing than -usual. She met Ladislaw with that exquisite smile of good-will which is -unmixed with vanity, and held out her hand to him. He was the elder by -several years, but at that moment he looked much the younger, for his -transparent complexion flushed suddenly, and he spoke with a shyness -extremely unlike the ready indifference of his manner with his male -companion, while Dorothea became all the calmer with a wondering desire -to put him at ease. - -I was not aware that you and Mr. Casaubon were in Rome, until this -morning, when I saw you in the Vatican Museum, he said. I knew you at -oncebutI mean, that I concluded Mr. Casaubons address would be found -at the Poste Restante, and I was anxious to pay my respects to him and -you as early as possible. - -Pray sit down. He is not here now, but he will be glad to hear of you, -I am sure, said Dorothea, seating herself unthinkingly between the -fire and the light of the tall window, and pointing to a chair -opposite, with the quietude of a benignant matron. The signs of girlish -sorrow in her face were only the more striking. Mr. Casaubon is much -engaged; but you will leave your addresswill you not?and he will -write to you. - -You are very good, said Ladislaw, beginning to lose his diffidence in -the interest with which he was observing the signs of weeping which had -altered her face. My address is on my card. But if you will allow me I -will call again to-morrow at an hour when Mr. Casaubon is likely to be -at home. - -He goes to read in the Library of the Vatican every day, and you can -hardly see him except by an appointment. Especially now. We are about -to leave Rome, and he is very busy. He is usually away almost from -breakfast till dinner. But I am sure he will wish you to dine with us. - -Will Ladislaw was struck mute for a few moments. He had never been fond -of Mr. Casaubon, and if it had not been for the sense of obligation, -would have laughed at him as a Bat of erudition. But the idea of this -dried-up pedant, this elaborator of small explanations about as -important as the surplus stock of false antiquities kept in a vendors -back chamber, having first got this adorable young creature to marry -him, and then passing his honeymoon away from her, groping after his -mouldy futilities (Will was given to hyperbole)this sudden picture -stirred him with a sort of comic disgust: he was divided between the -impulse to laugh aloud and the equally unseasonable impulse to burst -into scornful invective. - -For an instant he felt that the struggle was causing a queer contortion -of his mobile features, but with a good effort he resolved it into -nothing more offensive than a merry smile. - -Dorothea wondered; but the smile was irresistible, and shone back from -her face too. Will Ladislaws smile was delightful, unless you were -angry with him beforehand: it was a gush of inward light illuminating -the transparent skin as well as the eyes, and playing about every curve -and line as if some Ariel were touching them with a new charm, and -banishing forever the traces of moodiness. The reflection of that smile -could not but have a little merriment in it too, even under dark -eyelashes still moist, as Dorothea said inquiringly, Something amuses -you? - -Yes, said Will, quick in finding resources. I am thinking of the -sort of figure I cut the first time I saw you, when you annihilated my -poor sketch with your criticism. - -My criticism? said Dorothea, wondering still more. Surely not. I -always feel particularly ignorant about painting. - -I suspected you of knowing so much, that you knew how to say just what -was most cutting. You saidI dare say you dont remember it as I -dothat the relation of my sketch to nature was quite hidden from you. -At least, you implied that. Will could laugh now as well as smile. - -That was really my ignorance, said Dorothea, admiring Wills -good-humor. I must have said so only because I never could see any -beauty in the pictures which my uncle told me all judges thought very -fine. And I have gone about with just the same ignorance in Rome. There -are comparatively few paintings that I can really enjoy. At first when -I enter a room where the walls are covered with frescos, or with rare -pictures, I feel a kind of awelike a child present at great ceremonies -where there are grand robes and processions; I feel myself in the -presence of some higher life than my own. But when I begin to examine -the pictures one by one the life goes out of them, or else is something -violent and strange to me. It must be my own dulness. I am seeing so -much all at once, and not understanding half of it. That always makes -one feel stupid. It is painful to be told that anything is very fine -and not be able to feel that it is finesomething like being blind, -while people talk of the sky. - -Oh, there is a great deal in the feeling for art which must be -acquired, said Will. (It was impossible now to doubt the directness of -Dorotheas confession.) Art is an old language with a great many -artificial affected styles, and sometimes the chief pleasure one gets -out of knowing them is the mere sense of knowing. I enjoy the art of -all sorts here immensely; but I suppose if I could pick my enjoyment to -pieces I should find it made up of many different threads. There is -something in daubing a little ones self, and having an idea of the -process. - -You mean perhaps to be a painter? said Dorothea, with a new direction -of interest. You mean to make painting your profession? Mr. Casaubon -will like to hear that you have chosen a profession. - -No, oh no, said Will, with some coldness. I have quite made up my -mind against it. It is too one-sided a life. I have been seeing a great -deal of the German artists here: I travelled from Frankfort with one of -them. Some are fine, even brilliant fellowsbut I should not like to -get into their way of looking at the world entirely from the studio -point of view. - -That I can understand, said Dorothea, cordially. And in Rome it -seems as if there were so many things which are more wanted in the -world than pictures. But if you have a genius for painting, would it -not be right to take that as a guide? Perhaps you might do better -things than theseor different, so that there might not be so many -pictures almost all alike in the same place. - -There was no mistaking this simplicity, and Will was won by it into -frankness. A man must have a very rare genius to make changes of that -sort. I am afraid mine would not carry me even to the pitch of doing -well what has been done already, at least not so well as to make it -worth while. And I should never succeed in anything by dint of -drudgery. If things dont come easily to me I never get them. - -I have heard Mr. Casaubon say that he regrets your want of patience, -said Dorothea, gently. She was rather shocked at this mode of taking -all life as a holiday. - -Yes, I know Mr. Casaubons opinion. He and I differ. - -The slight streak of contempt in this hasty reply offended Dorothea. -She was all the more susceptible about Mr. Casaubon because of her -mornings trouble. - -Certainly you differ, she said, rather proudly. I did not think of -comparing you: such power of persevering devoted labor as Mr. -Casaubons is not common. - -Will saw that she was offended, but this only gave an additional -impulse to the new irritation of his latent dislike towards Mr. -Casaubon. It was too intolerable that Dorothea should be worshipping -this husband: such weakness in a woman is pleasant to no man but the -husband in question. Mortals are easily tempted to pinch the life out -of their neighbors buzzing glory, and think that such killing is no -murder. - -No, indeed, he answered, promptly. And therefore it is a pity that -it should be thrown away, as so much English scholarship is, for want -of knowing what is being done by the rest of the world. If Mr. Casaubon -read German he would save himself a great deal of trouble. - -I do not understand you, said Dorothea, startled and anxious. - -I merely mean, said Will, in an offhand way, that the Germans have -taken the lead in historical inquiries, and they laugh at results which -are got by groping about in woods with a pocket-compass while they have -made good roads. When I was with Mr. Casaubon I saw that he deafened -himself in that direction: it was almost against his will that he read -a Latin treatise written by a German. I was very sorry. - -Will only thought of giving a good pinch that would annihilate that -vaunted laboriousness, and was unable to imagine the mode in which -Dorothea would be wounded. Young Mr. Ladislaw was not at all deep -himself in German writers; but very little achievement is required in -order to pity another mans shortcomings. - -Poor Dorothea felt a pang at the thought that the labor of her -husbands life might be void, which left her no energy to spare for the -question whether this young relative who was so much obliged to him -ought not to have repressed his observation. She did not even speak, -but sat looking at her hands, absorbed in the piteousness of that -thought. - -Will, however, having given that annihilating pinch, was rather -ashamed, imagining from Dorotheas silence that he had offended her -still more; and having also a conscience about plucking the -tail-feathers from a benefactor. - -I regretted it especially, he resumed, taking the usual course from -detraction to insincere eulogy, because of my gratitude and respect -towards my cousin. It would not signify so much in a man whose talents -and character were less distinguished. - -Dorothea raised her eyes, brighter than usual with excited feeling, and -said in her saddest recitative, How I wish I had learned German when I -was at Lausanne! There were plenty of German teachers. But now I can be -of no use. - -There was a new light, but still a mysterious light, for Will in -Dorotheas last words. The question how she had come to accept Mr. -Casaubonwhich he had dismissed when he first saw her by saying that -she must be disagreeable in spite of appearanceswas not now to be -answered on any such short and easy method. Whatever else she might be, -she was not disagreeable. She was not coldly clever and indirectly -satirical, but adorably simple and full of feeling. She was an angel -beguiled. It would be a unique delight to wait and watch for the -melodious fragments in which her heart and soul came forth so directly -and ingenuously. The Aeolian harp again came into his mind. - -She must have made some original romance for herself in this marriage. -And if Mr. Casaubon had been a dragon who had carried her off to his -lair with his talons simply and without legal forms, it would have been -an unavoidable feat of heroism to release her and fall at her feet. But -he was something more unmanageable than a dragon: he was a benefactor -with collective society at his back, and he was at that moment entering -the room in all the unimpeachable correctness of his demeanor, while -Dorothea was looking animated with a newly roused alarm and regret, and -Will was looking animated with his admiring speculation about her -feelings. - -Mr. Casaubon felt a surprise which was quite unmixed with pleasure, but -he did not swerve from his usual politeness of greeting, when Will rose -and explained his presence. Mr. Casaubon was less happy than usual, and -this perhaps made him look all the dimmer and more faded; else, the -effect might easily have been produced by the contrast of his young -cousins appearance. The first impression on seeing Will was one of -sunny brightness, which added to the uncertainty of his changing -expression. Surely, his very features changed their form, his jaw -looked sometimes large and sometimes small; and the little ripple in -his nose was a preparation for metamorphosis. When he turned his head -quickly his hair seemed to shake out light, and some persons thought -they saw decided genius in this coruscation. Mr. Casaubon, on the -contrary, stood rayless. - -As Dorotheas eyes were turned anxiously on her husband she was perhaps -not insensible to the contrast, but it was only mingled with other -causes in making her more conscious of that new alarm on his behalf -which was the first stirring of a pitying tenderness fed by the -realities of his lot and not by her own dreams. Yet it was a source of -greater freedom to her that Will was there; his young equality was -agreeable, and also perhaps his openness to conviction. She felt an -immense need of some one to speak to, and she had never before seen any -one who seemed so quick and pliable, so likely to understand -everything. - -Mr. Casaubon gravely hoped that Will was passing his time profitably as -well as pleasantly in Romehad thought his intention was to remain in -South Germanybut begged him to come and dine to-morrow, when he could -converse more at large: at present he was somewhat weary. Ladislaw -understood, and accepting the invitation immediately took his leave. - -Dorotheas eyes followed her husband anxiously, while he sank down -wearily at the end of a sofa, and resting his elbow supported his head -and looked on the floor. A little flushed, and with bright eyes, she -seated herself beside him, and said - -Forgive me for speaking so hastily to you this morning. I was wrong. I -fear I hurt you and made the day more burdensome. - -I am glad that you feel that, my dear, said Mr. Casaubon. He spoke -quietly and bowed his head a little, but there was still an uneasy -feeling in his eyes as he looked at her. - -But you do forgive me? said Dorothea, with a quick sob. In her need -for some manifestation of feeling she was ready to exaggerate her own -fault. Would not love see returning penitence afar off, and fall on its -neck and kiss it? - -My dear Dorotheawho with repentance is not satisfied, is not of -heaven nor earth:you do not think me worthy to be banished by that -severe sentence, said Mr. Casaubon, exerting himself to make a strong -statement, and also to smile faintly. - -Dorothea was silent, but a tear which had come up with the sob would -insist on falling. - -You are excited, my dear. And I also am feeling some unpleasant -consequences of too much mental disturbance, said Mr. Casaubon. In -fact, he had it in his thought to tell her that she ought not to have -received young Ladislaw in his absence: but he abstained, partly from -the sense that it would be ungracious to bring a new complaint in the -moment of her penitent acknowledgment, partly because he wanted to -avoid further agitation of himself by speech, and partly because he was -too proud to betray that jealousy of disposition which was not so -exhausted on his scholarly compeers that there was none to spare in -other directions. There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little -fire: it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp -despondency of uneasy egoism. - -I think it is time for us to dress, he added, looking at his watch. -They both rose, and there was never any further allusion between them -to what had passed on this day. - -But Dorothea remembered it to the last with the vividness with which we -all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, -or some new motive is born. Today she had begun to see that she had -been under a wild illusion in expecting a response to her feeling from -Mr. Casaubon, and she had felt the waking of a presentiment that there -might be a sad consciousness in his life which made as great a need on -his side as on her own. - -We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder -to feed our supreme selves: Dorothea had early begun to emerge from -that stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she -would devote herself to Mr. Casaubon, and become wise and strong in his -strength and wisdom, than to conceive with that distinctness which is -no longer reflection but feelingan idea wrought back to the directness -of sense, like the solidity of objectsthat he had an equivalent centre -of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain -difference. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -Nous cusames longtemps; elle tait simple et bonne. -Ne sachant pas le mal, elle faisait le bien; -Des richesses du coeur elle me fit laumne, -Et tout en coutant comme le coeur se donne, -Sans oser y penser je lui donnai le mien; -Elle emporta ma vie, et nen sut jamais rien. -ALFRED DE MUSSET. - - -Will Ladislaw was delightfully agreeable at dinner the next day, and -gave no opportunity for Mr. Casaubon to show disapprobation. On the -contrary it seemed to Dorothea that Will had a happier way of drawing -her husband into conversation and of deferentially listening to him -than she had ever observed in any one before. To be sure, the listeners -about Tipton were not highly gifted! Will talked a good deal himself, -but what he said was thrown in with such rapidity, and with such an -unimportant air of saying something by the way, that it seemed a gay -little chime after the great bell. If Will was not always perfect, this -was certainly one of his good days. He described touches of incident -among the poor people in Rome, only to be seen by one who could move -about freely; he found himself in agreement with Mr. Casaubon as to the -unsound opinions of Middleton concerning the relations of Judaism and -Catholicism; and passed easily to a half-enthusiastic half-playful -picture of the enjoyment he got out of the very miscellaneousness of -Rome, which made the mind flexible with constant comparison, and saved -you from seeing the worlds ages as a set of box-like partitions -without vital connection. Mr. Casaubons studies, Will observed, had -always been of too broad a kind for that, and he had perhaps never felt -any such sudden effect, but for himself he confessed that Rome had -given him quite a new sense of history as a whole: the fragments -stimulated his imagination and made him constructive. Then -occasionally, but not too often, he appealed to Dorothea, and discussed -what she said, as if her sentiment were an item to be considered in the -final judgment even of the Madonna di Foligno or the Laocoon. A sense -of contributing to form the worlds opinion makes conversation -particularly cheerful; and Mr. Casaubon too was not without his pride -in his young wife, who spoke better than most women, as indeed he had -perceived in choosing her. - -Since things were going on so pleasantly, Mr. Casaubons statement that -his labors in the Library would be suspended for a couple of days, and -that after a brief renewal he should have no further reason for staying -in Rome, encouraged Will to urge that Mrs. Casaubon should not go away -without seeing a studio or two. Would not Mr. Casaubon take her? That -sort of thing ought not to be missed: it was quite special: it was a -form of life that grew like a small fresh vegetation with its -population of insects on huge fossils. Will would be happy to conduct -themnot to anything wearisome, only to a few examples. - -Mr. Casaubon, seeing Dorothea look earnestly towards him, could not but -ask her if she would be interested in such visits: he was now at her -service during the whole day; and it was agreed that Will should come -on the morrow and drive with them. - -Will could not omit Thorwaldsen, a living celebrity about whom even Mr. -Casaubon inquired, but before the day was far advanced he led the way -to the studio of his friend Adolf Naumann, whom he mentioned as one of -the chief renovators of Christian art, one of those who had not only -revived but expanded that grand conception of supreme events as -mysteries at which the successive ages were spectators, and in relation -to which the great souls of all periods became as it were -contemporaries. Will added that he had made himself Naumanns pupil for -the nonce. - -I have been making some oil-sketches under him, said Will. I hate -copying. I must put something of my own in. Naumann has been painting -the Saints drawing the Car of the Church, and I have been making a -sketch of Marlowes Tamburlaine Driving the Conquered Kings in his -Chariot. I am not so ecclesiastical as Naumann, and I sometimes twit -him with his excess of meaning. But this time I mean to outdo him in -breadth of intention. I take Tamburlaine in his chariot for the -tremendous course of the worlds physical history lashing on the -harnessed dynasties. In my opinion, that is a good mythical -interpretation. Will here looked at Mr. Casaubon, who received this -offhand treatment of symbolism very uneasily, and bowed with a neutral -air. - -The sketch must be very grand, if it conveys so much, said Dorothea. -I should need some explanation even of the meaning you give. Do you -intend Tamburlaine to represent earthquakes and volcanoes? - -Oh yes, said Will, laughing, and migrations of races and clearings -of forestsand America and the steam-engine. Everything you can -imagine! - -What a difficult kind of shorthand! said Dorothea, smiling towards -her husband. It would require all your knowledge to be able to read -it. - -Mr. Casaubon blinked furtively at Will. He had a suspicion that he was -being laughed at. But it was not possible to include Dorothea in the -suspicion. - -They found Naumann painting industriously, but no model was present; -his pictures were advantageously arranged, and his own plain vivacious -person set off by a dove-colored blouse and a maroon velvet cap, so -that everything was as fortunate as if he had expected the beautiful -young English lady exactly at that time. - -The painter in his confident English gave little dissertations on his -finished and unfinished subjects, seeming to observe Mr. Casaubon as -much as he did Dorothea. Will burst in here and there with ardent words -of praise, marking out particular merits in his friends work; and -Dorothea felt that she was getting quite new notions as to the -significance of Madonnas seated under inexplicable canopied thrones -with the simple country as a background, and of saints with -architectural models in their hands, or knives accidentally wedged in -their skulls. Some things which had seemed monstrous to her were -gathering intelligibility and even a natural meaning: but all this was -apparently a branch of knowledge in which Mr. Casaubon had not -interested himself. - -I think I would rather feel that painting is beautiful than have to -read it as an enigma; but I should learn to understand these pictures -sooner than yours with the very wide meaning, said Dorothea, speaking -to Will. - -Dont speak of my painting before Naumann, said Will. He will tell -you, it is all _pfuscherei_, which is his most opprobrious word! - -Is that true? said Dorothea, turning her sincere eyes on Naumann, who -made a slight grimace and said - -Oh, he does not mean it seriously with painting. His walk must be -_belles-lettres_. That is wi-ide. - -Naumanns pronunciation of the vowel seemed to stretch the word -satirically. Will did not half like it, but managed to laugh: and Mr. -Casaubon, while he felt some disgust at the artists German accent, -began to entertain a little respect for his judicious severity. - -The respect was not diminished when Naumann, after drawing Will aside -for a moment and looking, first at a large canvas, then at Mr. -Casaubon, came forward again and said - -My friend Ladislaw thinks you will pardon me, sir, if I say that a -sketch of your head would be invaluable to me for the St. Thomas -Aquinas in my picture there. It is too much to ask; but I so seldom see -just what I wantthe idealistic in the real. - -You astonish me greatly, sir, said Mr. Casaubon, his looks improved -with a glow of delight; but if my poor physiognomy, which I have been -accustomed to regard as of the commonest order, can be of any use to -you in furnishing some traits for the angelical doctor, I shall feel -honored. That is to say, if the operation will not be a lengthy one; -and if Mrs. Casaubon will not object to the delay. - -As for Dorothea, nothing could have pleased her more, unless it had -been a miraculous voice pronouncing Mr. Casaubon the wisest and -worthiest among the sons of men. In that case her tottering faith would -have become firm again. - -Naumanns apparatus was at hand in wonderful completeness, and the -sketch went on at once as well as the conversation. Dorothea sat down -and subsided into calm silence, feeling happier than she had done for a -long while before. Every one about her seemed good, and she said to -herself that Rome, if she had only been less ignorant, would have been -full of beauty: its sadness would have been winged with hope. No nature -could be less suspicious than hers: when she was a child she believed -in the gratitude of wasps and the honorable susceptibility of sparrows, -and was proportionately indignant when their baseness was made -manifest. - -The adroit artist was asking Mr. Casaubon questions about English -polities, which brought long answers, and, Will meanwhile had perched -himself on some steps in the background overlooking all. - -Presently Naumann saidNow if I could lay this by for half an hour and -take it up againcome and look, LadislawI think it is perfect so far. - -Will vented those adjuring interjections which imply that admiration is -too strong for syntax; and Naumann said in a tone of piteous regret - -Ahnowif I could but have had morebut you have other engagementsI -could not ask itor even to come again to-morrow. - -Oh, let us stay! said Dorothea. We have nothing to do to-day except -go about, have we? she added, looking entreatingly at Mr. Casaubon. -It would be a pity not to make the head as good as possible. - -I am at your service, sir, in the matter, said Mr. Casaubon, with -polite condescension. Having given up the interior of my head to -idleness, it is as well that the exterior should work in this way. - -You are unspeakably goodnow I am happy! said Naumann, and then went -on in German to Will, pointing here and there to the sketch as if he -were considering that. Putting it aside for a moment, he looked round -vaguely, as if seeking some occupation for his visitors, and afterwards -turning to Mr. Casaubon, said - -Perhaps the beautiful bride, the gracious lady, would not be unwilling -to let me fill up the time by trying to make a slight sketch of -hernot, of course, as you see, for that pictureonly as a single -study. - -Mr. Casaubon, bowing, doubted not that Mrs. Casaubon would oblige him, -and Dorothea said, at once, Where shall I put myself? - -Naumann was all apologies in asking her to stand, and allow him to -adjust her attitude, to which she submitted without any of the affected -airs and laughs frequently thought necessary on such occasions, when -the painter said, It is as Santa Clara that I want you to -standleaning so, with your cheek against your handsolooking at that -stool, please, so! - -Will was divided between the inclination to fall at the Saints feet -and kiss her robe, and the temptation to knock Naumann down while he -was adjusting her arm. All this was impudence and desecration, and he -repented that he had brought her. - -The artist was diligent, and Will recovering himself moved about and -occupied Mr. Casaubon as ingeniously as he could; but he did not in the -end prevent the time from seeming long to that gentleman, as was clear -from his expressing a fear that Mrs. Casaubon would be tired. Naumann -took the hint and said - -Now, sir, if you can oblige me again; I will release the lady-wife. - -So Mr. Casaubons patience held out further, and when after all it -turned out that the head of Saint Thomas Aquinas would be more perfect -if another sitting could be had, it was granted for the morrow. On the -morrow Santa Clara too was retouched more than once. The result of all -was so far from displeasing to Mr. Casaubon, that he arranged for the -purchase of the picture in which Saint Thomas Aquinas sat among the -doctors of the Church in a disputation too abstract to be represented, -but listened to with more or less attention by an audience above. The -Santa Clara, which was spoken of in the second place, Naumann declared -himself to be dissatisfied withhe could not, in conscience, engage to -make a worthy picture of it; so about the Santa Clara the arrangement -was conditional. - -I will not dwell on Naumanns jokes at the expense of Mr. Casaubon that -evening, or on his dithyrambs about Dorotheas charm, in all which Will -joined, but with a difference. No sooner did Naumann mention any detail -of Dorotheas beauty, than Will got exasperated at his presumption: -there was grossness in his choice of the most ordinary words, and what -business had he to talk of her lips? She was not a woman to be spoken -of as other women were. Will could not say just what he thought, but he -became irritable. And yet, when after some resistance he had consented -to take the Casaubons to his friends studio, he had been allured by -the gratification of his pride in being the person who could grant -Naumann such an opportunity of studying her lovelinessor rather her -divineness, for the ordinary phrases which might apply to mere bodily -prettiness were not applicable to her. (Certainly all Tipton and its -neighborhood, as well as Dorothea herself, would have been surprised at -her beauty being made so much of. In that part of the world Miss Brooke -had been only a fine young woman.) - -Oblige me by letting the subject drop, Naumann. Mrs. Casaubon is not -to be talked of as if she were a model, said Will. Naumann stared at -him. - -Schn! I will talk of my Aquinas. The head is not a bad type, after -all. I dare say the great scholastic himself would have been flattered -to have his portrait asked for. Nothing like these starchy doctors for -vanity! It was as I thought: he cared much less for her portrait than -his own. - -Hes a cursed white-blooded pedantic coxcomb, said Will, with -gnashing impetuosity. His obligations to Mr. Casaubon were not known to -his hearer, but Will himself was thinking of them, and wishing that he -could discharge them all by a check. - -Naumann gave a shrug and said, It is good they go away soon, my dear. -They are spoiling your fine temper. - -All Wills hope and contrivance were now concentrated on seeing -Dorothea when she was alone. He only wanted her to take more emphatic -notice of him; he only wanted to be something more special in her -remembrance than he could yet believe himself likely to be. He was -rather impatient under that open ardent good-will, which he saw was her -usual state of feeling. The remote worship of a woman throned out of -their reach plays a great part in mens lives, but in most cases the -worshipper longs for some queenly recognition, some approving sign by -which his souls sovereign may cheer him without descending from her -high place. That was precisely what Will wanted. But there were plenty -of contradictions in his imaginative demands. It was beautiful to see -how Dorotheas eyes turned with wifely anxiety and beseeching to Mr. -Casaubon: she would have lost some of her halo if she had been without -that duteous preoccupation; and yet at the next moment the husbands -sandy absorption of such nectar was too intolerable; and Wills longing -to say damaging things about him was perhaps not the less tormenting -because he felt the strongest reasons for restraining it. - -Will had not been invited to dine the next day. Hence he persuaded -himself that he was bound to call, and that the only eligible time was -the middle of the day, when Mr. Casaubon would not be at home. - -Dorothea, who had not been made aware that her former reception of Will -had displeased her husband, had no hesitation about seeing him, -especially as he might be come to pay a farewell visit. When he entered -she was looking at some cameos which she had been buying for Celia. She -greeted Will as if his visit were quite a matter of course, and said at -once, having a cameo bracelet in her hand - -I am so glad you are come. Perhaps you understand all about cameos, -and can tell me if these are really good. I wished to have you with us -in choosing them, but Mr. Casaubon objected: he thought there was not -time. He will finish his work to-morrow, and we shall go away in three -days. I have been uneasy about these cameos. Pray sit down and look at -them. - -I am not particularly knowing, but there can be no great mistake about -these little Homeric bits: they are exquisitely neat. And the color is -fine: it will just suit you. - -Oh, they are for my sister, who has quite a different complexion. You -saw her with me at Lowick: she is light-haired and very prettyat least -I think so. We were never so long away from each other in our lives -before. She is a great pet and never was naughty in her life. I found -out before I came away that she wanted me to buy her some cameos, and I -should be sorry for them not to be goodafter their kind. Dorothea -added the last words with a smile. - -You seem not to care about cameos, said Will, seating himself at some -distance from her, and observing her while she closed the cases. - -No, frankly, I dont think them a great object in life, said -Dorothea. - -I fear you are a heretic about art generally. How is that? I should -have expected you to be very sensitive to the beautiful everywhere. - -I suppose I am dull about many things, said Dorothea, simply. I -should like to make life beautifulI mean everybodys life. And then -all this immense expense of art, that seems somehow to lie outside life -and make it no better for the world, pains one. It spoils my enjoyment -of anything when I am made to think that most people are shut out from -it. - -I call that the fanaticism of sympathy, said Will, impetuously. You -might say the same of landscape, of poetry, of all refinement. If you -carried it out you ought to be miserable in your own goodness, and turn -evil that you might have no advantage over others. The best piety is to -enjoywhen you can. You are doing the most then to save the earths -character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates. It is of no -use to try and take care of all the world; that is being taken care of -when you feel delightin art or in anything else. Would you turn all -the youth of the world into a tragic chorus, wailing and moralizing -over misery? I suspect that you have some false belief in the virtues -of misery, and want to make your life a martyrdom. Will had gone -further than he intended, and checked himself. But Dorotheas thought -was not taking just the same direction as his own, and she answered -without any special emotion - -Indeed you mistake me. I am not a sad, melancholy creature. I am never -unhappy long together. I am angry and naughtynot like Celia: I have a -great outburst, and then all seems glorious again. I cannot help -believing in glorious things in a blind sort of way. I should be quite -willing to enjoy the art here, but there is so much that I dont know -the reason ofso much that seems to me a consecration of ugliness -rather than beauty. The painting and sculpture may be wonderful, but -the feeling is often low and brutal, and sometimes even ridiculous. -Here and there I see what takes me at once as noblesomething that I -might compare with the Alban Mountains or the sunset from the Pincian -Hill; but that makes it the greater pity that there is so little of the -best kind among all that mass of things over which men have toiled so. - -Of course there is always a great deal of poor work: the rarer things -want that soil to grow in. - -Oh dear, said Dorothea, taking up that thought into the chief current -of her anxiety; I see it must be very difficult to do anything good. I -have often felt since I have been in Rome that most of our lives would -look much uglier and more bungling than the pictures, if they could be -put on the wall. - -Dorothea parted her lips again as if she were going to say more, but -changed her mind and paused. - -You are too youngit is an anachronism for you to have such thoughts, -said Will, energetically, with a quick shake of the head habitual to -him. You talk as if you had never known any youth. It is monstrousas -if you had had a vision of Hades in your childhood, like the boy in the -legend. You have been brought up in some of those horrible notions that -choose the sweetest women to devourlike Minotaurs. And now you will go -and be shut up in that stone prison at Lowick: you will be buried -alive. It makes me savage to think of it! I would rather never have -seen you than think of you with such a prospect. - -Will again feared that he had gone too far; but the meaning we attach -to words depends on our feeling, and his tone of angry regret had so -much kindness in it for Dorotheas heart, which had always been giving -out ardor and had never been fed with much from the living beings -around her, that she felt a new sense of gratitude and answered with a -gentle smile - -It is very good of you to be anxious about me. It is because you did -not like Lowick yourself: you had set your heart on another kind of -life. But Lowick is my chosen home. - -The last sentence was spoken with an almost solemn cadence, and Will -did not know what to say, since it would not be useful for him to -embrace her slippers, and tell her that he would die for her: it was -clear that she required nothing of the sort; and they were both silent -for a moment or two, when Dorothea began again with an air of saying at -last what had been in her mind beforehand. - -I wanted to ask you again about something you said the other day. -Perhaps it was half of it your lively way of speaking: I notice that -you like to put things strongly; I myself often exaggerate when I speak -hastily. - -What was it? said Will, observing that she spoke with a timidity -quite new in her. I have a hyperbolical tongue: it catches fire as it -goes. I dare say I shall have to retract. - -I mean what you said about the necessity of knowing GermanI mean, for -the subjects that Mr. Casaubon is engaged in. I have been thinking -about it; and it seems to me that with Mr. Casaubons learning he must -have before him the same materials as German scholarshas he not? -Dorotheas timidity was due to an indistinct consciousness that she was -in the strange situation of consulting a third person about the -adequacy of Mr. Casaubons learning. - -Not exactly the same materials, said Will, thinking that he would be -duly reserved. He is not an Orientalist, you know. He does not profess -to have more than second-hand knowledge there. - -But there are very valuable books about antiquities which were written -a long while ago by scholars who knew nothing about these modern -things; and they are still used. Why should Mr. Casaubons not be -valuable, like theirs? said Dorothea, with more remonstrant energy. -She was impelled to have the argument aloud, which she had been having -in her own mind. - -That depends on the line of study taken, said Will, also getting a -tone of rejoinder. The subject Mr. Casaubon has chosen is as changing -as chemistry: new discoveries are constantly making new points of view. -Who wants a system on the basis of the four elements, or a book to -refute Paracelsus? Do you not see that it is no use now to be crawling -a little way after men of the last centurymen like Bryantand -correcting their mistakes?living in a lumber-room and furbishing up -broken-legged theories about Chus and Mizraim? - -How can you bear to speak so lightly? said Dorothea, with a look -between sorrow and anger. If it were as you say, what could be sadder -than so much ardent labor all in vain? I wonder it does not affect you -more painfully, if you really think that a man like Mr. Casaubon, of so -much goodness, power, and learning, should in any way fail in what has -been the labor of his best years. She was beginning to be shocked that -she had got to such a point of supposition, and indignant with Will for -having led her to it. - -You questioned me about the matter of fact, not of feeling, said -Will. But if you wish to punish me for the fact, I submit. I am not in -a position to express my feeling toward Mr. Casaubon: it would be at -best a pensioners eulogy. - -Pray excuse me, said Dorothea, coloring deeply. I am aware, as you -say, that I am in fault in having introduced the subject. Indeed, I am -wrong altogether. Failure after long perseverance is much grander than -never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure. - -I quite agree with you, said Will, determined to change the -situationso much so that I have made up my mind not to run that risk -of never attaining a failure. Mr. Casaubons generosity has perhaps -been dangerous to me, and I mean to renounce the liberty it has given -me. I mean to go back to England shortly and work my own waydepend on -nobody else than myself. - -That is fineI respect that feeling, said Dorothea, with returning -kindness. But Mr. Casaubon, I am sure, has never thought of anything -in the matter except what was most for your welfare. - -She has obstinacy and pride enough to serve instead of love, now she -has married him, said Will to himself. Aloud he said, rising - -I shall not see you again. - -Oh, stay till Mr. Casaubon comes, said Dorothea, earnestly. I am so -glad we met in Rome. I wanted to know you. - -And I have made you angry, said Will. I have made you think ill of -me. - -Oh no. My sister tells me I am always angry with people who do not say -just what I like. But I hope I am not given to think ill of them. In -the end I am usually obliged to think ill of myself for being so -impatient. - -Still, you dont like me; I have made myself an unpleasant thought to -you. - -Not at all, said Dorothea, with the most open kindness. I like you -very much. - -Will was not quite contented, thinking that he would apparently have -been of more importance if he had been disliked. He said nothing, but -looked dull, not to say sulky. - -And I am quite interested to see what you will do, Dorothea went on -cheerfully. I believe devoutly in a natural difference of vocation. If -it were not for that belief, I suppose I should be very narrowthere -are so many things, besides painting, that I am quite ignorant of. You -would hardly believe how little I have taken in of music and -literature, which you know so much of. I wonder what your vocation will -turn out to be: perhaps you will be a poet? - -That depends. To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern that -no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment -is but a hand playing with finely ordered variety on the chords of -emotiona soul in which knowledge passes instantaneously into feeling, -and feeling flashes back as a new organ of knowledge. One may have that -condition by fits only. - -But you leave out the poems, said Dorothea. I think they are wanted -to complete the poet. I understand what you mean about knowledge -passing into feeling, for that seems to be just what I experience. But -I am sure I could never produce a poem. - -You _are_ a poemand that is to be the best part of a poetwhat makes -up the poets consciousness in his best moods, said Will, showing such -originality as we all share with the morning and the spring-time and -other endless renewals. - -I am very glad to hear it, said Dorothea, laughing out her words in a -bird-like modulation, and looking at Will with playful gratitude in her -eyes. What very kind things you say to me! - -I wish I could ever do anything that would be what you call kindthat -I could ever be of the slightest service to you. I fear I shall never -have the opportunity. Will spoke with fervor. - -Oh yes, said Dorothea, cordially. It will come; and I shall remember -how well you wish me. I quite hoped that we should be friends when I -first saw youbecause of your relationship to Mr. Casaubon. There was -a certain liquid brightness in her eyes, and Will was conscious that -his own were obeying a law of nature and filling too. The allusion to -Mr. Casaubon would have spoiled all if anything at that moment could -have spoiled the subduing power, the sweet dignity, of her noble -unsuspicious inexperience. - -And there is one thing even now that you can do, said Dorothea, -rising and walking a little way under the strength of a recurring -impulse. Promise me that you will not again, to any one, speak of that -subjectI mean about Mr. Casaubons writingsI mean in that kind of -way. It was I who led to it. It was my fault. But promise me. - -She had returned from her brief pacing and stood opposite Will, looking -gravely at him. - -Certainly, I will promise you, said Will, reddening however. If he -never said a cutting word about Mr. Casaubon again and left off -receiving favors from him, it would clearly be permissible to hate him -the more. The poet must know how to hate, says Goethe; and Will was at -least ready with that accomplishment. He said that he must go now -without waiting for Mr. Casaubon, whom he would come to take leave of -at the last moment. Dorothea gave him her hand, and they exchanged a -simple Good-by. - -But going out of the _porte cochere_ he met Mr. Casaubon, and that -gentleman, expressing the best wishes for his cousin, politely waived -the pleasure of any further leave-taking on the morrow, which would be -sufficiently crowded with the preparations for departure. - -I have something to tell you about our cousin Mr. Ladislaw, which I -think will heighten your opinion of him, said Dorothea to her husband -in the course of the evening. She had mentioned immediately on his -entering that Will had just gone away, and would come again, but Mr. -Casaubon had said, I met him outside, and we made our final adieux, I -believe, saying this with the air and tone by which we imply that any -subject, whether private or public, does not interest us enough to wish -for a further remark upon it. So Dorothea had waited. - -What is that, my love? said Mr Casaubon (he always said my love -when his manner was the coldest). - -He has made up his mind to leave off wandering at once, and to give up -his dependence on your generosity. He means soon to go back to England, -and work his own way. I thought you would consider that a good sign, -said Dorothea, with an appealing look into her husbands neutral face. - -Did he mention the precise order of occupation to which he would -addict himself? - -No. But he said that he felt the danger which lay for him in your -generosity. Of course he will write to you about it. Do you not think -better of him for his resolve? - -I shall await his communication on the subject, said Mr. Casaubon. - -I told him I was sure that the thing you considered in all you did for -him was his own welfare. I remembered your goodness in what you said -about him when I first saw him at Lowick, said Dorothea, putting her -hand on her husbands. - -I had a duty towards him, said Mr. Casaubon, laying his other hand on -Dorotheas in conscientious acceptance of her caress, but with a glance -which he could not hinder from being uneasy. The young man, I confess, -is not otherwise an object of interest to me, nor need we, I think, -discuss his future course, which it is not ours to determine beyond the -limits which I have sufficiently indicated. Dorothea did not mention -Will again. - - - - -BOOK III. -WAITING FOR DEATH. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -Your horses of the Sun, he said, - And first-rate whip Apollo! -Whateer they be, Ill eat my head, - But I will beat them hollow. - - -Fred Vincy, we have seen, had a debt on his mind, and though no such -immaterial burthen could depress that buoyant-hearted young gentleman -for many hours together, there were circumstances connected with this -debt which made the thought of it unusually importunate. The creditor -was Mr. Bambridge, a horse-dealer of the neighborhood, whose company -was much sought in Middlemarch by young men understood to be addicted -to pleasure. During the vacations Fred had naturally required more -amusements than he had ready money for, and Mr. Bambridge had been -accommodating enough not only to trust him for the hire of horses and -the accidental expense of ruining a fine hunter, but also to make a -small advance by which he might be able to meet some losses at -billiards. The total debt was a hundred and sixty pounds. Bambridge was -in no alarm about his money, being sure that young Vincy had backers; -but he had required something to show for it, and Fred had at first -given a bill with his own signature. Three months later he had renewed -this bill with the signature of Caleb Garth. On both occasions Fred had -felt confident that he should meet the bill himself, having ample funds -at disposal in his own hopefulness. You will hardly demand that his -confidence should have a basis in external facts; such confidence, we -know, is something less coarse and materialistic: it is a comfortable -disposition leading us to expect that the wisdom of providence or the -folly of our friends, the mysteries of luck or the still greater -mystery of our high individual value in the universe, will bring about -agreeable issues, such as are consistent with our good taste in -costume, and our general preference for the best style of thing. Fred -felt sure that he should have a present from his uncle, that he should -have a run of luck, that by dint of swapping he should gradually -metamorphose a horse worth forty pounds into a horse that would fetch a -hundred at any momentjudgment being always equivalent to an -unspecified sum in hard cash. And in any case, even supposing negations -which only a morbid distrust could imagine, Fred had always (at that -time) his fathers pocket as a last resource, so that his assets of -hopefulness had a sort of gorgeous superfluity about them. Of what -might be the capacity of his fathers pocket, Fred had only a vague -notion: was not trade elastic? And would not the deficiencies of one -year be made up for by the surplus of another? The Vincys lived in an -easy profuse way, not with any new ostentation, but according to the -family habits and traditions, so that the children had no standard of -economy, and the elder ones retained some of their infantine notion -that their father might pay for anything if he would. Mr. Vincy himself -had expensive Middlemarch habitsspent money on coursing, on his -cellar, and on dinner-giving, while mamma had those running accounts -with tradespeople, which give a cheerful sense of getting everything -one wants without any question of payment. But it was in the nature of -fathers, Fred knew, to bully one about expenses: there was always a -little storm over his extravagance if he had to disclose a debt, and -Fred disliked bad weather within doors. He was too filial to be -disrespectful to his father, and he bore the thunder with the certainty -that it was transient; but in the mean time it was disagreeable to see -his mother cry, and also to be obliged to look sulky instead of having -fun; for Fred was so good-tempered that if he looked glum under -scolding, it was chiefly for proprietys sake. The easier course -plainly, was to renew the bill with a friends signature. Why not? With -the superfluous securities of hope at his command, there was no reason -why he should not have increased other peoples liabilities to any -extent, but for the fact that men whose names were good for anything -were usually pessimists, indisposed to believe that the universal order -of things would necessarily be agreeable to an agreeable young -gentleman. - -With a favor to ask we review our list of friends, do justice to their -more amiable qualities, forgive their little offenses, and concerning -each in turn, try to arrive at the conclusion that he will be eager to -oblige us, our own eagerness to be obliged being as communicable as -other warmth. Still there is always a certain number who are dismissed -as but moderately eager until the others have refused; and it happened -that Fred checked off all his friends but one, on the ground that -applying to them would be disagreeable; being implicitly convinced that -he at least (whatever might be maintained about mankind generally) had -a right to be free from anything disagreeable. That he should ever fall -into a thoroughly unpleasant positionwear trousers shrunk with -washing, eat cold mutton, have to walk for want of a horse, or to duck -under in any sort of waywas an absurdity irreconcilable with those -cheerful intuitions implanted in him by nature. And Fred winced under -the idea of being looked down upon as wanting funds for small debts. -Thus it came to pass that the friend whom he chose to apply to was at -once the poorest and the kindestnamely, Caleb Garth. - -The Garths were very fond of Fred, as he was of them; for when he and -Rosamond were little ones, and the Garths were better off, the slight -connection between the two families through Mr. Featherstones double -marriage (the first to Mr. Garths sister, and the second to Mrs. -Vincys) had led to an acquaintance which was carried on between the -children rather than the parents: the children drank tea together out -of their toy teacups, and spent whole days together in play. Mary was a -little hoyden, and Fred at six years old thought her the nicest girl in -the world, making her his wife with a brass ring which he had cut from -an umbrella. Through all the stages of his education he had kept his -affection for the Garths, and his habit of going to their house as a -second home, though any intercourse between them and the elders of his -family had long ceased. Even when Caleb Garth was prosperous, the -Vincys were on condescending terms with him and his wife, for there -were nice distinctions of rank in Middlemarch; and though old -manufacturers could not any more than dukes be connected with none but -equals, they were conscious of an inherent social superiority which was -defined with great nicety in practice, though hardly expressible -theoretically. Since then Mr. Garth had failed in the building -business, which he had unfortunately added to his other avocations of -surveyor, valuer, and agent, had conducted that business for a time -entirely for the benefit of his assignees, and had been living -narrowly, exerting himself to the utmost that he might after all pay -twenty shillings in the pound. He had now achieved this, and from all -who did not think it a bad precedent, his honorable exertions had won -him due esteem; but in no part of the world is genteel visiting founded -on esteem, in the absence of suitable furniture and complete -dinner-service. Mrs. Vincy had never been at her ease with Mrs. Garth, -and frequently spoke of her as a woman who had had to work for her -breadmeaning that Mrs. Garth had been a teacher before her marriage; -in which case an intimacy with Lindley Murray and Mangnalls Questions -was something like a drapers discrimination of calico trademarks, or a -couriers acquaintance with foreign countries: no woman who was better -off needed that sort of thing. And since Mary had been keeping Mr. -Featherstones house, Mrs. Vincys want of liking for the Garths had -been converted into something more positive, by alarm lest Fred should -engage himself to this plain girl, whose parents lived in such a small -way. Fred, being aware of this, never spoke at home of his visits to -Mrs. Garth, which had of late become more frequent, the increasing -ardor of his affection for Mary inclining him the more towards those -who belonged to her. - -Mr. Garth had a small office in the town, and to this Fred went with -his request. He obtained it without much difficulty, for a large amount -of painful experience had not sufficed to make Caleb Garth cautious -about his own affairs, or distrustful of his fellow-men when they had -not proved themselves untrustworthy; and he had the highest opinion of -Fred, was sure the lad would turn out wellan open affectionate -fellow, with a good bottom to his characteryou might trust him for -anything. Such was Calebs psychological argument. He was one of those -rare men who are rigid to themselves and indulgent to others. He had a -certain shame about his neighbors errors, and never spoke of them -willingly; hence he was not likely to divert his mind from the best -mode of hardening timber and other ingenious devices in order to -preconceive those errors. If he had to blame any one, it was necessary -for him to move all the papers within his reach, or describe various -diagrams with his stick, or make calculations with the odd money in his -pocket, before he could begin; and he would rather do other mens work -than find fault with their doing. I fear he was a bad disciplinarian. - -When Fred stated the circumstances of his debt, his wish to meet it -without troubling his father, and the certainty that the money would be -forthcoming so as to cause no one any inconvenience, Caleb pushed his -spectacles upward, listened, looked into his favorites clear young -eyes, and believed him, not distinguishing confidence about the future -from veracity about the past; but he felt that it was an occasion for a -friendly hint as to conduct, and that before giving his signature he -must give a rather strong admonition. Accordingly, he took the paper -and lowered his spectacles, measured the space at his command, reached -his pen and examined it, dipped it in the ink and examined it again, -then pushed the paper a little way from him, lifted up his spectacles -again, showed a deepened depression in the outer angle of his bushy -eyebrows, which gave his face a peculiar mildness (pardon these details -for onceyou would have learned to love them if you had known Caleb -Garth), and said in a comfortable tone, - -It was a misfortune, eh, that breaking the horses knees? And then, -these exchanges, they dont answer when you have cute jockeys to deal -with. Youll be wiser another time, my boy. - -Whereupon Caleb drew down his spectacles, and proceeded to write his -signature with the care which he always gave to that performance; for -whatever he did in the way of business he did well. He contemplated the -large well-proportioned letters and final flourish, with his head a -trifle on one side for an instant, then handed it to Fred, said -Good-by, and returned forthwith to his absorption in a plan for Sir -James Chettams new farm-buildings. - -Either because his interest in this work thrust the incident of the -signature from his memory, or for some reason of which Caleb was more -conscious, Mrs. Garth remained ignorant of the affair. - -Since it occurred, a change had come over Freds sky, which altered his -view of the distance, and was the reason why his uncle Featherstones -present of money was of importance enough to make his color come and -go, first with a too definite expectation, and afterwards with a -proportionate disappointment. His failure in passing his examination, -had made his accumulation of college debts the more unpardonable by his -father, and there had been an unprecedented storm at home. Mr. Vincy -had sworn that if he had anything more of that sort to put up with, -Fred should turn out and get his living how he could; and he had never -yet quite recovered his good-humored tone to his son, who had -especially enraged him by saying at this stage of things that he did -not want to be a clergyman, and would rather not go on with that. -Fred was conscious that he would have been yet more severely dealt with -if his family as well as himself had not secretly regarded him as Mr. -Featherstones heir; that old gentlemans pride in him, and apparent -fondness for him, serving in the stead of more exemplary conductjust -as when a youthful nobleman steals jewellery we call the act -kleptomania, speak of it with a philosophical smile, and never think of -his being sent to the house of correction as if he were a ragged boy -who had stolen turnips. In fact, tacit expectations of what would be -done for him by uncle Featherstone determined the angle at which most -people viewed Fred Vincy in Middlemarch; and in his own consciousness, -what uncle Featherstone would do for him in an emergency, or what he -would do simply as an incorporated luck, formed always an immeasurable -depth of aerial perspective. But that present of bank-notes, once made, -was measurable, and being applied to the amount of the debt, showed a -deficit which had still to be filled up either by Freds judgment or -by luck in some other shape. For that little episode of the alleged -borrowing, in which he had made his father the agent in getting the -Bulstrode certificate, was a new reason against going to his father for -money towards meeting his actual debt. Fred was keen enough to foresee -that anger would confuse distinctions, and that his denial of having -borrowed expressly on the strength of his uncles will would be taken -as a falsehood. He had gone to his father and told him one vexatious -affair, and he had left another untold: in such cases the complete -revelation always produces the impression of a previous duplicity. Now -Fred piqued himself on keeping clear of lies, and even fibs; he often -shrugged his shoulders and made a significant grimace at what he called -Rosamonds fibs (it is only brothers who can associate such ideas with -a lovely girl); and rather than incur the accusation of falsehood he -would even incur some trouble and self-restraint. It was under strong -inward pressure of this kind that Fred had taken the wise step of -depositing the eighty pounds with his mother. It was a pity that he had -not at once given them to Mr. Garth; but he meant to make the sum -complete with another sixty, and with a view to this, he had kept -twenty pounds in his own pocket as a sort of seed-corn, which, planted -by judgment, and watered by luck, might yield more than threefolda -very poor rate of multiplication when the field is a young gentlemans -infinite soul, with all the numerals at command. - -Fred was not a gambler: he had not that specific disease in which the -suspension of the whole nervous energy on a chance or risk becomes as -necessary as the dram to the drunkard; he had only the tendency to that -diffusive form of gambling which has no alcoholic intensity, but is -carried on with the healthiest chyle-fed blood, keeping up a joyous -imaginative activity which fashions events according to desire, and -having no fears about its own weather, only sees the advantage there -must be to others in going aboard with it. Hopefulness has a pleasure -in making a throw of any kind, because the prospect of success is -certain; and only a more generous pleasure in offering as many as -possible a share in the stake. Fred liked play, especially billiards, -as he liked hunting or riding a steeple-chase; and he only liked it the -better because he wanted money and hoped to win. But the twenty pounds -worth of seed-corn had been planted in vain in the seductive green -plotall of it at least which had not been dispersed by the -roadsideand Fred found himself close upon the term of payment with no -money at command beyond the eighty pounds which he had deposited with -his mother. The broken-winded horse which he rode represented a present -which had been made to him a long while ago by his uncle Featherstone: -his father always allowed him to keep a horse, Mr. Vincys own habits -making him regard this as a reasonable demand even for a son who was -rather exasperating. This horse, then, was Freds property, and in his -anxiety to meet the imminent bill he determined to sacrifice a -possession without which life would certainly be worth little. He made -the resolution with a sense of heroismheroism forced on him by the -dread of breaking his word to Mr. Garth, by his love for Mary and awe -of her opinion. He would start for Houndsley horse-fair which was to be -held the next morning, andsimply sell his horse, bringing back the -money by coach?Well, the horse would hardly fetch more than thirty -pounds, and there was no knowing what might happen; it would be folly -to balk himself of luck beforehand. It was a hundred to one that some -good chance would fall in his way; the longer he thought of it, the -less possible it seemed that he should not have a good chance, and the -less reasonable that he should not equip himself with the powder and -shot for bringing it down. He would ride to Houndsley with Bambridge -and with Horrock the vet, and without asking them anything expressly, -he should virtually get the benefit of their opinion. Before he set -out, Fred got the eighty pounds from his mother. - -Most of those who saw Fred riding out of Middlemarch in company with -Bambridge and Horrock, on his way of course to Houndsley horse-fair, -thought that young Vincy was pleasure-seeking as usual; and but for an -unwonted consciousness of grave matters on hand, he himself would have -had a sense of dissipation, and of doing what might be expected of a -gay young fellow. Considering that Fred was not at all coarse, that he -rather looked down on the manners and speech of young men who had not -been to the university, and that he had written stanzas as pastoral and -unvoluptuous as his flute-playing, his attraction towards Bambridge and -Horrock was an interesting fact which even the love of horse-flesh -would not wholly account for without that mysterious influence of -Naming which determinates so much of mortal choice. Under any other -name than pleasure the society of Messieurs Bambridge and Horrock -must certainly have been regarded as monotonous; and to arrive with -them at Houndsley on a drizzling afternoon, to get down at the Red Lion -in a street shaded with coal-dust, and dine in a room furnished with a -dirt-enamelled map of the county, a bad portrait of an anonymous horse -in a stable, His Majesty George the Fourth with legs and cravat, and -various leaden spittoons, might have seemed a hard business, but for -the sustaining power of nomenclature which determined that the pursuit -of these things was gay. - -In Mr. Horrock there was certainly an apparent unfathomableness which -offered play to the imagination. Costume, at a glance, gave him a -thrilling association with horses (enough to specify the hat-brim which -took the slightest upward angle just to escape the suspicion of bending -downwards), and nature had given him a face which by dint of Mongolian -eyes, and a nose, mouth, and chin seeming to follow his hat-brim in a -moderate inclination upwards, gave the effect of a subdued unchangeable -sceptical smile, of all expressions the most tyrannous over a -susceptible mind, and, when accompanied by adequate silence, likely to -create the reputation of an invincible understanding, an infinite fund -of humortoo dry to flow, and probably in a state of immovable -crust,and a critical judgment which, if you could ever be fortunate -enough to know it, would be _the_ thing and no other. It is a -physiognomy seen in all vocations, but perhaps it has never been more -powerful over the youth of England than in a judge of horses. - -Mr. Horrock, at a question from Fred about his horses fetlock, turned -sideways in his saddle, and watched the horses action for the space of -three minutes, then turned forward, twitched his own bridle, and -remained silent with a profile neither more nor less sceptical than it -had been. - -The part thus played in dialogue by Mr. Horrock was terribly effective. -A mixture of passions was excited in Freda mad desire to thrash -Horrocks opinion into utterance, restrained by anxiety to retain the -advantage of his friendship. There was always the chance that Horrock -might say something quite invaluable at the right moment. - -Mr. Bambridge had more open manners, and appeared to give forth his -ideas without economy. He was loud, robust, and was sometimes spoken of -as being given to indulgencechiefly in swearing, drinking, and -beating his wife. Some people who had lost by him called him a vicious -man; but he regarded horse-dealing as the finest of the arts, and might -have argued plausibly that it had nothing to do with morality. He was -undeniably a prosperous man, bore his drinking better than others bore -their moderation, and, on the whole, flourished like the green -bay-tree. But his range of conversation was limited, and like the fine -old tune, Drops of brandy, gave you after a while a sense of -returning upon itself in a way that might make weak heads dizzy. But a -slight infusion of Mr. Bambridge was felt to give tone and character to -several circles in Middlemarch; and he was a distinguished figure in -the bar and billiard-room at the Green Dragon. He knew some anecdotes -about the heroes of the turf, and various clever tricks of Marquesses -and Viscounts which seemed to prove that blood asserted its -pre-eminence even among black-legs; but the minute retentiveness of his -memory was chiefly shown about the horses he had himself bought and -sold; the number of miles they would trot you in no time without -turning a hair being, after the lapse of years, still a subject of -passionate asseveration, in which he would assist the imagination of -his hearers by solemnly swearing that they never saw anything like it. -In short, Mr. Bambridge was a man of pleasure and a gay companion. - -Fred was subtle, and did not tell his friends that he was going to -Houndsley bent on selling his horse: he wished to get indirectly at -their genuine opinion of its value, not being aware that a genuine -opinion was the last thing likely to be extracted from such eminent -critics. It was not Mr. Bambridges weakness to be a gratuitous -flatterer. He had never before been so much struck with the fact that -this unfortunate bay was a roarer to a degree which required the -roundest word for perdition to give you any idea of it. - -You made a bad hand at swapping when you went to anybody but me, -Vincy! Why, you never threw your leg across a finer horse than that -chestnut, and you gave him for this brute. If you set him cantering, he -goes on like twenty sawyers. I never heard but one worse roarer in my -life, and that was a roan: it belonged to Pegwell, the corn-factor; he -used to drive him in his gig seven years ago, and he wanted me to take -him, but I said, Thank you, Peg, I dont deal in wind-instruments. -That was what I said. It went the round of the country, that joke did. -But, what the hell! the horse was a penny trumpet to that roarer of -yours. - -Why, you said just now his was worse than mine, said Fred, more -irritable than usual. - -I said a lie, then, said Mr. Bambridge, emphatically. There wasnt a -penny to choose between em. - -Fred spurred his horse, and they trotted on a little way. When they -slackened again, Mr. Bambridge said - -Not but what the roan was a better trotter than yours. - -Im quite satisfied with his paces, I know, said Fred, who required -all the consciousness of being in gay company to support him; I say -his trot is an uncommonly clean one, eh, Horrock? - -Mr. Horrock looked before him with as complete a neutrality as if he -had been a portrait by a great master. - -Fred gave up the fallacious hope of getting a genuine opinion; but on -reflection he saw that Bambridges depreciation and Horrocks silence -were both virtually encouraging, and indicated that they thought better -of the horse than they chose to say. - -That very evening, indeed, before the fair had set in, Fred thought he -saw a favorable opening for disposing advantageously of his horse, but -an opening which made him congratulate himself on his foresight in -bringing with him his eighty pounds. A young farmer, acquainted with -Mr. Bambridge, came into the Red Lion, and entered into conversation -about parting with a hunter, which he introduced at once as Diamond, -implying that it was a public character. For himself he only wanted a -useful hack, which would draw upon occasion; being about to marry and -to give up hunting. The hunter was in a friends stable at some little -distance; there was still time for gentlemen to see it before dark. The -friends stable had to be reached through a back street where you might -as easily have been poisoned without expense of drugs as in any grim -street of that unsanitary period. Fred was not fortified against -disgust by brandy, as his companions were, but the hope of having at -last seen the horse that would enable him to make money was -exhilarating enough to lead him over the same ground again the first -thing in the morning. He felt sure that if he did not come to a bargain -with the farmer, Bambridge would; for the stress of circumstances, Fred -felt, was sharpening his acuteness and endowing him with all the -constructive power of suspicion. Bambridge had run down Diamond in a -way that he never would have done (the horse being a friends) if he -had not thought of buying it; every one who looked at the animaleven -Horrockwas evidently impressed with its merit. To get all the -advantage of being with men of this sort, you must know how to draw -your inferences, and not be a spoon who takes things literally. The -color of the horse was a dappled gray, and Fred happened to know that -Lord Medlicotes man was on the look-out for just such a horse. After -all his running down, Bambridge let it out in the course of the -evening, when the farmer was absent, that he had seen worse horses go -for eighty pounds. Of course he contradicted himself twenty times over, -but when you know what is likely to be true you can test a mans -admissions. And Fred could not but reckon his own judgment of a horse -as worth something. The farmer had paused over Freds respectable -though broken-winded steed long enough to show that he thought it worth -consideration, and it seemed probable that he would take it, with -five-and-twenty pounds in addition, as the equivalent of Diamond. In -that case Fred, when he had parted with his new horse for at least -eighty pounds, would be fifty-five pounds in pocket by the transaction, -and would have a hundred and thirty-five pounds towards meeting the -bill; so that the deficit temporarily thrown on Mr. Garth would at the -utmost be twenty-five pounds. By the time he was hurrying on his -clothes in the morning, he saw so clearly the importance of not losing -this rare chance, that if Bambridge and Horrock had both dissuaded him, -he would not have been deluded into a direct interpretation of their -purpose: he would have been aware that those deep hands held something -else than a young fellows interest. With regard to horses, distrust -was your only clew. But scepticism, as we know, can never be thoroughly -applied, else life would come to a standstill: something we must -believe in and do, and whatever that something may be called, it is -virtually our own judgment, even when it seems like the most slavish -reliance on another. Fred believed in the excellence of his bargain, -and even before the fair had well set in, had got possession of the -dappled gray, at the price of his old horse and thirty pounds in -additiononly five pounds more than he had expected to give. - -But he felt a little worried and wearied, perhaps with mental debate, -and without waiting for the further gayeties of the horse-fair, he set -out alone on his fourteen miles journey, meaning to take it very -quietly and keep his horse fresh. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -The offenders sorrow brings but small relief -To him who wears the strong offences cross. -SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. - - -I am sorry to say that only the third day after the propitious events -at Houndsley Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he had known -in his life before. Not that he had been disappointed as to the -possible market for his horse, but that before the bargain could be -concluded with Lord Medlicotes man, this Diamond, in which hope to the -amount of eighty pounds had been invested, had without the slightest -warning exhibited in the stable a most vicious energy in kicking, had -just missed killing the groom, and had ended in laming himself severely -by catching his leg in a rope that overhung the stable-board. There was -no more redress for this than for the discovery of bad temper after -marriagewhich of course old companions were aware of before the -ceremony. For some reason or other, Fred had none of his usual -elasticity under this stroke of ill-fortune: he was simply aware that -he had only fifty pounds, that there was no chance of his getting any -more at present, and that the bill for a hundred and sixty would be -presented in five days. Even if he had applied to his father on the -plea that Mr. Garth should be saved from loss, Fred felt smartingly -that his father would angrily refuse to rescue Mr. Garth from the -consequence of what he would call encouraging extravagance and deceit. -He was so utterly downcast that he could frame no other project than to -go straight to Mr. Garth and tell him the sad truth, carrying with him -the fifty pounds, and getting that sum at least safely out of his own -hands. His father, being at the warehouse, did not yet know of the -accident: when he did, he would storm about the vicious brute being -brought into his stable; and before meeting that lesser annoyance Fred -wanted to get away with all his courage to face the greater. He took -his fathers nag, for he had made up his mind that when he had told Mr. -Garth, he would ride to Stone Court and confess all to Mary. In fact, -it is probable that but for Marys existence and Freds love for her, -his conscience would have been much less active both in previously -urging the debt on his thought and impelling him not to spare himself -after his usual fashion by deferring an unpleasant task, but to act as -directly and simply as he could. Even much stronger mortals than Fred -Vincy hold half their rectitude in the mind of the being they love -best. The theatre of all my actions is fallen, said an antique -personage when his chief friend was dead; and they are fortunate who -get a theatre where the audience demands their best. Certainly it would -have made a considerable difference to Fred at that time if Mary Garth -had had no decided notions as to what was admirable in character. - -Mr. Garth was not at the office, and Fred rode on to his house, which -was a little way outside the towna homely place with an orchard in -front of it, a rambling, old-fashioned, half-timbered building, which -before the town had spread had been a farm-house, but was now -surrounded with the private gardens of the townsmen. We get the fonder -of our houses if they have a physiognomy of their own, as our friends -have. The Garth family, which was rather a large one, for Mary had four -brothers and one sister, were very fond of their old house, from which -all the best furniture had long been sold. Fred liked it too, knowing -it by heart even to the attic which smelt deliciously of apples and -quinces, and until to-day he had never come to it without pleasant -expectations; but his heart beat uneasily now with the sense that he -should probably have to make his confession before Mrs. Garth, of whom -he was rather more in awe than of her husband. Not that she was -inclined to sarcasm and to impulsive sallies, as Mary was. In her -present matronly age at least, Mrs. Garth never committed herself by -over-hasty speech; having, as she said, borne the yoke in her youth, -and learned self-control. She had that rare sense which discerns what -is unalterable, and submits to it without murmuring. Adoring her -husbands virtues, she had very early made up her mind to his -incapacity of minding his own interests, and had met the consequences -cheerfully. She had been magnanimous enough to renounce all pride in -teapots or childrens frilling, and had never poured any pathetic -confidences into the ears of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. -Garths want of prudence and the sums he might have had if he had been -like other men. Hence these fair neighbors thought her either proud or -eccentric, and sometimes spoke of her to their husbands as your fine -Mrs. Garth. She was not without her criticism of them in return, being -more accurately instructed than most matrons in Middlemarch, andwhere -is the blameless woman?apt to be a little severe towards her own sex, -which in her opinion was framed to be entirely subordinate. On the -other hand, she was disproportionately indulgent towards the failings -of men, and was often heard to say that these were natural. Also, it -must be admitted that Mrs. Garth was a trifle too emphatic in her -resistance to what she held to be follies: the passage from governess -into housewife had wrought itself a little too strongly into her -consciousness, and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent -were above the town standard, she wore a plain cap, cooked the family -dinner, and darned all the stockings. She had sometimes taken pupils in -a peripatetic fashion, making them follow her about in the kitchen with -their book or slate. She thought it good for them to see that she could -make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without -looking,that a woman with her sleeves tucked up above her elbows -might know all about the Subjunctive Mood or the Torrid Zonethat, in -short, she might possess education and other good things ending in -tion, and worthy to be pronounced emphatically, without being a -useless doll. When she made remarks to this edifying effect, she had a -firm little frown on her brow, which yet did not hinder her face from -looking benevolent, and her words which came forth like a procession -were uttered in a fervid agreeable contralto. Certainly, the exemplary -Mrs. Garth had her droll aspects, but her character sustained her -oddities, as a very fine wine sustains a flavor of skin. - -Towards Fred Vincy she had a motherly feeling, and had always been -disposed to excuse his errors, though she would probably not have -excused Mary for engaging herself to him, her daughter being included -in that more rigorous judgment which she applied to her own sex. But -this very fact of her exceptional indulgence towards him made it the -harder to Fred that he must now inevitably sink in her opinion. And the -circumstances of his visit turned out to be still more unpleasant than -he had expected; for Caleb Garth had gone out early to look at some -repairs not far off. Mrs. Garth at certain hours was always in the -kitchen, and this morning she was carrying on several occupations at -once theremaking her pies at the well-scoured deal table on one side -of that airy room, observing Sallys movements at the oven and -dough-tub through an open door, and giving lessons to her youngest boy -and girl, who were standing opposite to her at the table with their -books and slates before them. A tub and a clothes-horse at the other -end of the kitchen indicated an intermittent wash of small things also -going on. - -Mrs. Garth, with her sleeves turned above her elbows, deftly handling -her pastryapplying her rolling-pin and giving ornamental pinches, -while she expounded with grammatical fervor what were the right views -about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or -signifying many, was a sight agreeably amusing. She was of the same -curly-haired, square-faced type as Mary, but handsomer, with more -delicacy of feature, a pale skin, a solid matronly figure, and a -remarkable firmness of glance. In her snowy-frilled cap she reminded -one of that delightful Frenchwoman whom we have all seen marketing, -basket on arm. Looking at the mother, you might hope that the daughter -would become like her, which is a prospective advantage equal to a -dowrythe mother too often standing behind the daughter like a -malignant prophecySuch as I am, she will shortly be. - -Now let us go through that once more, said Mrs. Garth, pinching an -apple-puff which seemed to distract Ben, an energetic young male with a -heavy brow, from due attention to the lesson. Not without regard to -the import of the word as conveying unity or plurality of ideatell me -again what that means, Ben. - -(Mrs. Garth, like more celebrated educators, had her favorite ancient -paths, and in a general wreck of society would have tried to hold her -Lindley Murray above the waves.) - -Ohit meansyou must think what you mean, said Ben, rather peevishly. -I hate grammar. Whats the use of it? - -To teach you to speak and write correctly, so that you can be -understood, said Mrs. Garth, with severe precision. Should you like -to speak as old Job does? - -Yes, said Ben, stoutly; its funnier. He says, Yo goothats just -as good as You go. - -But he says, A ships in the garden, instead of a sheep, said -Letty, with an air of superiority. You might think he meant a ship off -the sea. - -No, you mightnt, if you werent silly, said Ben. How could a ship -off the sea come there? - -These things belong only to pronunciation, which is the least part of -grammar, said Mrs. Garth. That apple-peel is to be eaten by the pigs, -Ben; if you eat it, I must give them your piece of pasty. Job has only -to speak about very plain things. How do you think you would write or -speak about anything more difficult, if you knew no more of grammar -than he does? You would use wrong words, and put words in the wrong -places, and instead of making people understand you, they would turn -away from you as a tiresome person. What would you do then? - -I shouldnt care, I should leave off, said Ben, with a sense that -this was an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned. - -I see you are getting tired and stupid, Ben, said Mrs. Garth, -accustomed to these obstructive arguments from her male offspring. -Having finished her pies, she moved towards the clothes-horse, and -said, Come here and tell me the story I told you on Wednesday, about -Cincinnatus. - -I know! he was a farmer, said Ben. - -Now, Ben, he was a Romanlet _me_ tell, said Letty, using her elbow -contentiously. - -You silly thing, he was a Roman farmer, and he was ploughing. - -Yes, but before thatthat didnt come firstpeople wanted him, said -Letty. - -Well, but you must say what sort of a man he was first, insisted Ben. -He was a wise man, like my father, and that made the people want his -advice. And he was a brave man, and could fight. And so could my -fathercouldnt he, mother? - -Now, Ben, let me tell the story straight on, as mother told it us, -said Letty, frowning. Please, mother, tell Ben not to speak. - -Letty, I am ashamed of you, said her mother, wringing out the caps -from the tub. When your brother began, you ought to have waited to see -if he could not tell the story. How rude you look, pushing and -frowning, as if you wanted to conquer with your elbows! Cincinnatus, I -am sure, would have been sorry to see his daughter behave so. (Mrs. -Garth delivered this awful sentence with much majesty of enunciation, -and Letty felt that between repressed volubility and general disesteem, -that of the Romans inclusive, life was already a painful affair.) Now, -Ben. - -Wellohwellwhy, there was a great deal of fighting, and they were -all blockheads, andI cant tell it just how you told itbut they -wanted a man to be captain and king and everything - -Dictator, now, said Letty, with injured looks, and not without a wish -to make her mother repent. - -Very well, dictator! said Ben, contemptuously. But that isnt a good -word: he didnt tell them to write on slates. - -Come, come, Ben, you are not so ignorant as that, said Mrs. Garth, -carefully serious. Hark, there is a knock at the door! Run, Letty, and -open it. - -The knock was Freds; and when Letty said that her father was not in -yet, but that her mother was in the kitchen, Fred had no alternative. -He could not depart from his usual practice of going to see Mrs. Garth -in the kitchen if she happened to be at work there. He put his arm -round Lettys neck silently, and led her into the kitchen without his -usual jokes and caresses. - -Mrs. Garth was surprised to see Fred at this hour, but surprise was not -a feeling that she was given to express, and she only said, quietly -continuing her work - -You, Fred, so early in the day? You look quite pale. Has anything -happened? - -I want to speak to Mr. Garth, said Fred, not yet ready to say -moreand to you also, he added, after a little pause, for he had no -doubt that Mrs. Garth knew everything about the bill, and he must in -the end speak of it before her, if not to her solely. - -Caleb will be in again in a few minutes, said Mrs. Garth, who -imagined some trouble between Fred and his father. He is sure not to -be long, because he has some work at his desk that must be done this -morning. Do you mind staying with me, while I finish my matters here? - -But we neednt go on about Cincinnatus, need we? said Ben, who had -taken Freds whip out of his hand, and was trying its efficiency on the -cat. - -No, go out now. But put that whip down. How very mean of you to whip -poor old Tortoise! Pray take the whip from him, Fred. - -Come, old boy, give it me, said Fred, putting out his hand. - -Will you let me ride on your horse to-day? said Ben, rendering up the -whip, with an air of not being obliged to do it. - -Not to-dayanother time. I am not riding my own horse. - -Shall you see Mary to-day? - -Yes, I think so, said Fred, with an unpleasant twinge. - -Tell her to come home soon, and play at forfeits, and make fun. - -Enough, enough, Ben! run away, said Mrs. Garth, seeing that Fred was -teased. - -Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, Mrs. Garth? said Fred, when -the children were gone and it was needful to say something that would -pass the time. He was not yet sure whether he should wait for Mr. -Garth, or use any good opportunity in conversation to confess to Mrs. -Garth herself, give her the money and ride away. - -Oneonly one. Fanny Hackbutt comes at half past eleven. I am not -getting a great income now, said Mrs. Garth, smiling. I am at a low -ebb with pupils. But I have saved my little purse for Alfreds premium: -I have ninety-two pounds. He can go to Mr. Hanmers now; he is just at -the right age. - -This did not lead well towards the news that Mr. Garth was on the brink -of losing ninety-two pounds and more. Fred was silent. Young gentlemen -who go to college are rather more costly than that, Mrs. Garth -innocently continued, pulling out the edging on a cap-border. And -Caleb thinks that Alfred will turn out a distinguished engineer: he -wants to give the boy a good chance. There he is! I hear him coming in. -We will go to him in the parlor, shall we? - -When they entered the parlor Caleb had thrown down his hat and was -seated at his desk. - -What! Fred, my boy! he said, in a tone of mild surprise, holding his -pen still undipped; you are here betimes. But missing the usual -expression of cheerful greeting in Freds face, he immediately added, -Is there anything up at home?anything the matter? - -Yes, Mr. Garth, I am come to tell something that I am afraid will give -you a bad opinion of me. I am come to tell you and Mrs. Garth that I -cant keep my word. I cant find the money to meet the bill after all. -I have been unfortunate; I have only got these fifty pounds towards the -hundred and sixty. - -While Fred was speaking, he had taken out the notes and laid them on -the desk before Mr. Garth. He had burst forth at once with the plain -fact, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources. Mrs. -Garth was mutely astonished, and looked at her husband for an -explanation. Caleb blushed, and after a little pause said - -Oh, I didnt tell you, Susan: I put my name to a bill for Fred; it was -for a hundred and sixty pounds. He made sure he could meet it himself. - -There was an evident change in Mrs. Garths face, but it was like a -change below the surface of water which remains smooth. She fixed her -eyes on Fred, saying - -I suppose you have asked your father for the rest of the money and he -has refused you. - -No, said Fred, biting his lip, and speaking with more difficulty; -but I know it will be of no use to ask him; and unless it were of use, -I should not like to mention Mr. Garths name in the matter. - -It has come at an unfortunate time, said Caleb, in his hesitating -way, looking down at the notes and nervously fingering the paper, -Christmas upon usIm rather hard up just now. You see, I have to cut -out everything like a tailor with short measure. What can we do, Susan? -I shall want every farthing we have in the bank. Its a hundred and ten -pounds, the deuce take it! - -I must give you the ninety-two pounds that I have put by for Alfreds -premium, said Mrs. Garth, gravely and decisively, though a nice ear -might have discerned a slight tremor in some of the words. And I have -no doubt that Mary has twenty pounds saved from her salary by this -time. She will advance it. - -Mrs. Garth had not again looked at Fred, and was not in the least -calculating what words she should use to cut him the most effectively. -Like the eccentric woman she was, she was at present absorbed in -considering what was to be done, and did not fancy that the end could -be better achieved by bitter remarks or explosions. But she had made -Fred feel for the first time something like the tooth of remorse. -Curiously enough, his pain in the affair beforehand had consisted -almost entirely in the sense that he must seem dishonorable, and sink -in the opinion of the Garths: he had not occupied himself with the -inconvenience and possible injury that his breach might occasion them, -for this exercise of the imagination on other peoples needs is not -common with hopeful young gentlemen. Indeed we are most of us brought -up in the notion that the highest motive for not doing a wrong is -something irrespective of the beings who would suffer the wrong. But at -this moment he suddenly saw himself as a pitiful rascal who was robbing -two women of their savings. - -I shall certainly pay it all, Mrs. Garthultimately, he stammered -out. - -Yes, ultimately, said Mrs. Garth, who having a special dislike to -fine words on ugly occasions, could not now repress an epigram. But -boys cannot well be apprenticed ultimately: they should be apprenticed -at fifteen. She had never been so little inclined to make excuses for -Fred. - -I was the most in the wrong, Susan, said Caleb. Fred made sure of -finding the money. But Id no business to be fingering bills. I suppose -you have looked all round and tried all honest means? he added, fixing -his merciful gray eyes on Fred. Caleb was too delicate to specify Mr. -Featherstone. - -Yes, I have tried everythingI really have. I should have had a -hundred and thirty pounds ready but for a misfortune with a horse which -I was about to sell. My uncle had given me eighty pounds, and I paid -away thirty with my old horse in order to get another which I was going -to sell for eighty or moreI meant to go without a horsebut now it has -turned out vicious and lamed itself. I wish I and the horses too had -been at the devil, before I had brought this on you. Theres no one -else I care so much for: you and Mrs. Garth have always been so kind to -me. However, its no use saying that. You will always think me a rascal -now. - -Fred turned round and hurried out of the room, conscious that he was -getting rather womanish, and feeling confusedly that his being sorry -was not of much use to the Garths. They could see him mount, and -quickly pass through the gate. - -I am disappointed in Fred Vincy, said Mrs. Garth. I would not have -believed beforehand that he would have drawn you into his debts. I knew -he was extravagant, but I did not think that he would be so mean as to -hang his risks on his oldest friend, who could the least afford to -lose. - -I was a fool, Susan. - -That you were, said the wife, nodding and smiling. But I should not -have gone to publish it in the market-place. Why should you keep such -things from me? It is just so with your buttons: you let them burst off -without telling me, and go out with your wristband hanging. If I had -only known I might have been ready with some better plan. - -You are sadly cut up, I know, Susan, said Caleb, looking feelingly at -her. I cant abide your losing the money youve scraped together for -Alfred. - -It is very well that I _had_ scraped it together; and it is you who -will have to suffer, for you must teach the boy yourself. You must give -up your bad habits. Some men take to drinking, and you have taken to -working without pay. You must indulge yourself a little less in that. -And you must ride over to Mary, and ask the child what money she has. - -Caleb had pushed his chair back, and was leaning forward, shaking his -head slowly, and fitting his finger-tips together with much nicety. - -Poor Mary! he said. Susan, he went on in a lowered tone, Im -afraid she may be fond of Fred. - -Oh no! She always laughs at him; and he is not likely to think of her -in any other than a brotherly way. - -Caleb made no rejoinder, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up -his chair to the desk, and said, Deuce take the billI wish it was at -Hanover! These things are a sad interruption to business! - -The first part of this speech comprised his whole store of maledictory -expression, and was uttered with a slight snarl easy to imagine. But it -would be difficult to convey to those who never heard him utter the -word business, the peculiar tone of fervid veneration, of religious -regard, in which he wrapped it, as a consecrated symbol is wrapped in -its gold-fringed linen. - -Caleb Garth often shook his head in meditation on the value, the -indispensable might of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by which -the social body is fed, clothed, and housed. It had laid hold of his -imagination in boyhood. The echoes of the great hammer where roof or -keel were a-making, the signal-shouts of the workmen, the roar of the -furnace, the thunder and plash of the engine, were a sublime music to -him; the felling and lading of timber, and the huge trunk vibrating -star-like in the distance along the highway, the crane at work on the -wharf, the piled-up produce in warehouses, the precision and variety of -muscular effort wherever exact work had to be turned out,all these -sights of his youth had acted on him as poetry without the aid of the -poets, had made a philosophy for him without the aid of philosophers, a -religion without the aid of theology. His early ambition had been to -have as effective a share as possible in this sublime labor, which was -peculiarly dignified by him with the name of business; and though he -had only been a short time under a surveyor, and had been chiefly his -own teacher, he knew more of land, building, and mining than most of -the special men in the county. - -His classification of human employments was rather crude, and, like the -categories of more celebrated men, would not be acceptable in these -advanced times. He divided them into business, politics, preaching, -learning, and amusement. He had nothing to say against the last four; -but he regarded them as a reverential pagan regarded other gods than -his own. In the same way, he thought very well of all ranks, but he -would not himself have liked to be of any rank in which he had not such -close contact with business as to get often honorably decorated with -marks of dust and mortar, the damp of the engine, or the sweet soil of -the woods and fields. Though he had never regarded himself as other -than an orthodox Christian, and would argue on prevenient grace if the -subject were proposed to him, I think his virtual divinities were good -practical schemes, accurate work, and the faithful completion of -undertakings: his prince of darkness was a slack workman. But there was -no spirit of denial in Caleb, and the world seemed so wondrous to him -that he was ready to accept any number of systems, like any number of -firmaments, if they did not obviously interfere with the best -land-drainage, solid building, correct measuring, and judicious boring -(for coal). In fact, he had a reverential soul with a strong practical -intelligence. But he could not manage finance: he knew values well, but -he had no keenness of imagination for monetary results in the shape of -profit and loss: and having ascertained this to his cost, he determined -to give up all forms of his beloved business which required that -talent. He gave himself up entirely to the many kinds of work which he -could do without handling capital, and was one of those precious men -within his own district whom everybody would choose to work for them, -because he did his work well, charged very little, and often declined -to charge at all. It is no wonder, then, that the Garths were poor, and -lived in a small way. However, they did not mind it. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -Love seeketh not itself to please, - Nor for itself hath any care -But for another gives its ease - And builds a heaven in hells despair. -. . . . . . . -Love seeketh only self to please, - To bind another to its delight, -Joys in anothers loss of ease, - And builds a hell in heavens despite. -W. BLAKE: _Songs of Experience_. - - -Fred Vincy wanted to arrive at Stone Court when Mary could not expect -him, and when his uncle was not downstairs: in that case she might be -sitting alone in the wainscoted parlor. He left his horse in the yard -to avoid making a noise on the gravel in front, and entered the parlor -without other notice than the noise of the door-handle. Mary was in her -usual corner, laughing over Mrs. Piozzis recollections of Johnson, and -looked up with the fun still in her face. It gradually faded as she saw -Fred approach her without speaking, and stand before her with his elbow -on the mantel-piece, looking ill. She too was silent, only raising her -eyes to him inquiringly. - -Mary, he began, I am a good-for-nothing blackguard. - -I should think one of those epithets would do at a time, said Mary, -trying to smile, but feeling alarmed. - -I know you will never think well of me any more. You will think me a -liar. You will think me dishonest. You will think I didnt care for -you, or your father and mother. You always do make the worst of me, I -know. - -I cannot deny that I shall think all that of you, Fred, if you give me -good reasons. But please to tell me at once what you have done. I would -rather know the painful truth than imagine it. - -I owed moneya hundred and sixty pounds. I asked your father to put -his name to a bill. I thought it would not signify to him. I made sure -of paying the money myself, and I have tried as hard as I could. And -now, I have been so unluckya horse has turned out badlyI can only pay -fifty pounds. And I cant ask my father for the money: he would not -give me a farthing. And my uncle gave me a hundred a little while ago. -So what can I do? And now your father has no ready money to spare, and -your mother will have to pay away her ninety-two pounds that she has -saved, and she says your savings must go too. You see what a - -Oh, poor mother, poor father! said Mary, her eyes filling with tears, -and a little sob rising which she tried to repress. She looked straight -before her and took no notice of Fred, all the consequences at home -becoming present to her. He too remained silent for some moments, -feeling more miserable than ever. I wouldnt have hurt you for the -world, Mary, he said at last. You can never forgive me. - -What does it matter whether I forgive you? said Mary, passionately. -Would that make it any better for my mother to lose the money she has -been earning by lessons for four years, that she might send Alfred to -Mr. Hanmers? Should you think all that pleasant enough if I forgave -you? - -Say what you like, Mary. I deserve it all. - -I dont want to say anything, said Mary, more quietly, and my anger -is of no use. She dried her eyes, threw aside her book, rose and -fetched her sewing. - -Fred followed her with his eyes, hoping that they would meet hers, and -in that way find access for his imploring penitence. But no! Mary could -easily avoid looking upward. - -I do care about your mothers money going, he said, when she was -seated again and sewing quickly. I wanted to ask you, Marydont you -think that Mr. Featherstoneif you were to tell himtell him, I mean, -about apprenticing Alfredwould advance the money? - -My family is not fond of begging, Fred. We would rather work for our -money. Besides, you say that Mr. Featherstone has lately given you a -hundred pounds. He rarely makes presents; he has never made presents to -us. I am sure my father will not ask him for anything; and even if I -chose to beg of him, it would be of no use. - -I am so miserable, Maryif you knew how miserable I am, you would be -sorry for me. - -There are other things to be more sorry for than that. But selfish -people always think their own discomfort of more importance than -anything else in the world. I see enough of that every day. - -It is hardly fair to call me selfish. If you knew what things other -young men do, you would think me a good way off the worst. - -I know that people who spend a great deal of money on themselves -without knowing how they shall pay, must be selfish. They are always -thinking of what they can get for themselves, and not of what other -people may lose. - -Any man may be unfortunate, Mary, and find himself unable to pay when -he meant it. There is not a better man in the world than your father, -and yet he got into trouble. - -How dare you make any comparison between my father and you, Fred? -said Mary, in a deep tone of indignation. He never got into trouble by -thinking of his own idle pleasures, but because he was always thinking -of the work he was doing for other people. And he has fared hard, and -worked hard to make good everybodys loss. - -And you think that I shall never try to make good anything, Mary. It -is not generous to believe the worst of a man. When you have got any -power over him, I think you might try and use it to make him better; -but that is what you never do. However, Im going, Fred ended, -languidly. I shall never speak to you about anything again. Im very -sorry for all the trouble Ive causedthats all. - -Mary had dropped her work out of her hand and looked up. There is often -something maternal even in a girlish love, and Marys hard experience -had wrought her nature to an impressibility very different from that -hard slight thing which we call girlishness. At Freds last words she -felt an instantaneous pang, something like what a mother feels at the -imagined sobs or cries of her naughty truant child, which may lose -itself and get harm. And when, looking up, her eyes met his dull -despairing glance, her pity for him surmounted her anger and all her -other anxieties. - -Oh, Fred, how ill you look! Sit down a moment. Dont go yet. Let me -tell uncle that you are here. He has been wondering that he has not -seen you for a whole week. Mary spoke hurriedly, saying the words that -came first without knowing very well what they were, but saying them in -a half-soothing half-beseeching tone, and rising as if to go away to -Mr. Featherstone. Of course Fred felt as if the clouds had parted and a -gleam had come: he moved and stood in her way. - -Say one word, Mary, and I will do anything. Say you will not think the -worst of mewill not give me up altogether. - -As if it were any pleasure to me to think ill of you, said Mary, in a -mournful tone. As if it were not very painful to me to see you an idle -frivolous creature. How can you bear to be so contemptible, when others -are working and striving, and there are so many things to be donehow -can you bear to be fit for nothing in the world that is useful? And -with so much good in your disposition, Fred,you might be worth a great -deal. - -I will try to be anything you like, Mary, if you will say that you -love me. - -I should be ashamed to say that I loved a man who must always be -hanging on others, and reckoning on what they would do for him. What -will you be when you are forty? Like Mr. Bowyer, I supposejust as -idle, living in Mrs. Becks front parlorfat and shabby, hoping -somebody will invite you to dinnerspending your morning in learning a -comic songoh no! learning a tune on the flute. - -Marys lips had begun to curl with a smile as soon as she had asked -that question about Freds future (young souls are mobile), and before -she ended, her face had its full illumination of fun. To him it was -like the cessation of an ache that Mary could laugh at him, and with a -passive sort of smile he tried to reach her hand; but she slipped away -quickly towards the door and said, I shall tell uncle. You _must_ see -him for a moment or two. - -Fred secretly felt that his future was guaranteed against the -fulfilment of Marys sarcastic prophecies, apart from that anything -which he was ready to do if she would define it. He never dared in -Marys presence to approach the subject of his expectations from Mr. -Featherstone, and she always ignored them, as if everything depended on -himself. But if ever he actually came into the property, she must -recognize the change in his position. All this passed through his mind -somewhat languidly, before he went up to see his uncle. He stayed but a -little while, excusing himself on the ground that he had a cold; and -Mary did not reappear before he left the house. But as he rode home, he -began to be more conscious of being ill, than of being melancholy. - -When Caleb Garth arrived at Stone Court soon after dusk, Mary was not -surprised, although he seldom had leisure for paying her a visit, and -was not at all fond of having to talk with Mr. Featherstone. The old -man, on the other hand, felt himself ill at ease with a brother-in-law -whom he could not annoy, who did not mind about being considered poor, -had nothing to ask of him, and understood all kinds of farming and -mining business better than he did. But Mary had felt sure that her -parents would want to see her, and if her father had not come, she -would have obtained leave to go home for an hour or two the next day. -After discussing prices during tea with Mr. Featherstone, Caleb rose to -bid him good-by, and said, I want to speak to you, Mary. - -She took a candle into another large parlor, where there was no fire, -and setting down the feeble light on the dark mahogany table, turned -round to her father, and putting her arms round his neck kissed him -with childish kisses which he delighted in,the expression of his large -brows softening as the expression of a great beautiful dog softens when -it is caressed. Mary was his favorite child, and whatever Susan might -say, and right as she was on all other subjects, Caleb thought it -natural that Fred or any one else should think Mary more lovable than -other girls. - -Ive got something to tell you, my dear, said Caleb in his hesitating -way. No very good news; but then it might be worse. - -About money, father? I think I know what it is. - -Ay? how can that be? You see, Ive been a bit of a fool again, and put -my name to a bill, and now it comes to paying; and your mother has got -to part with her savings, thats the worst of it, and even they wont -quite make things even. We wanted a hundred and ten pounds: your mother -has ninety-two, and I have none to spare in the bank; and she thinks -that you have some savings. - -Oh yes; I have more than four-and-twenty pounds. I thought you would -come, father, so I put it in my bag. See! beautiful white notes and -gold. - -Mary took out the folded money from her reticule and put it into her -fathers hand. - -Well, but howwe only want eighteenhere, put the rest back, -child,but how did you know about it? said Caleb, who, in his -unconquerable indifference to money, was beginning to be chiefly -concerned about the relation the affair might have to Marys -affections. - -Fred told me this morning. - -Ah! Did he come on purpose? - -Yes, I think so. He was a good deal distressed. - -Im afraid Fred is not to be trusted, Mary, said the father, with -hesitating tenderness. He means better than he acts, perhaps. But I -should think it a pity for any bodys happiness to be wrapped up in -him, and so would your mother. - -And so should I, father, said Mary, not looking up, but putting the -back of her fathers hand against her cheek. - -I dont want to pry, my dear. But I was afraid there might be -something between you and Fred, and I wanted to caution you. You see, -Maryhere Calebs voice became more tender; he had been pushing his -hat about on the table and looking at it, but finally he turned his -eyes on his daughtera woman, let her be as good as she may, has got -to put up with the life her husband makes for her. Your mother has had -to put up with a good deal because of me. - -Mary turned the back of her fathers hand to her lips and smiled at -him. - -Well, well, nobodys perfect, buthere Mr. Garth shook his head to -help out the inadequacy of wordswhat I am thinking of iswhat it must -be for a wife when shes never sure of her husband, when he hasnt got -a principle in him to make him more afraid of doing the wrong thing by -others than of getting his own toes pinched. Thats the long and the -short of it, Mary. Young folks may get fond of each other before they -know what life is, and they may think it all holiday if they can only -get together; but it soon turns into working day, my dear. However, you -have more sense than most, and you havent been kept in cotton-wool: -there may be no occasion for me to say this, but a father trembles for -his daughter, and you are all by yourself here. - -Dont fear for me, father, said Mary, gravely meeting her fathers -eyes; Fred has always been very good to me; he is kind-hearted and -affectionate, and not false, I think, with all his self-indulgence. But -I will never engage myself to one who has no manly independence, and -who goes on loitering away his time on the chance that others will -provide for him. You and my mother have taught me too much pride for -that. - -Thats rightthats right. Then I am easy, said Mr. Garth, taking up -his hat. But its hard to run away with your earnings, eh child. - -Father! said Mary, in her deepest tone of remonstrance. Take -pocketfuls of love besides to them all at home, was her last word -before he closed the outer door on himself. - -I suppose your father wanted your earnings, said old Mr. -Featherstone, with his usual power of unpleasant surmise, when Mary -returned to him. He makes but a tight fit, I reckon. Youre of age -now; you ought to be saving for yourself. - -I consider my father and mother the best part of myself, sir, said -Mary, coldly. - -Mr. Featherstone grunted: he could not deny that an ordinary sort of -girl like her might be expected to be useful, so he thought of another -rejoinder, disagreeable enough to be always apropos. If Fred Vincy -comes to-morrow, now, dont you keep him chattering: let him come up to -me. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -He beats me and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were -otherwisethat I could beat him while he railed at me._Troilus and -Cressida_. - - -But Fred did not go to Stone Court the next day, for reasons that were -quite peremptory. From those visits to unsanitary Houndsley streets in -search of Diamond, he had brought back not only a bad bargain in -horse-flesh, but the further misfortune of some ailment which for a day -or two had deemed mere depression and headache, but which got so much -worse when he returned from his visit to Stone Court that, going into -the dining-room, he threw himself on the sofa, and in answer to his -mothers anxious question, said, I feel very ill: I think you must -send for Wrench. - -Wrench came, but did not apprehend anything serious, spoke of a slight -derangement, and did not speak of coming again on the morrow. He had a -due value for the Vincys house, but the wariest men are apt to be -dulled by routine, and on worried mornings will sometimes go through -their business with the zest of the daily bell-ringer. Mr. Wrench was a -small, neat, bilious man, with a well-dressed wig: he had a laborious -practice, an irascible temper, a lymphatic wife and seven children; and -he was already rather late before setting out on a four-miles drive to -meet Dr. Minchin on the other side of Tipton, the decease of Hicks, a -rural practitioner, having increased Middlemarch practice in that -direction. Great statesmen err, and why not small medical men? Mr. -Wrench did not neglect sending the usual white parcels, which this time -had black and drastic contents. Their effect was not alleviating to -poor Fred, who, however, unwilling as he said to believe that he was -in for an illness, rose at his usual easy hour the next morning and -went down-stairs meaning to breakfast, but succeeded in nothing but in -sitting and shivering by the fire. Mr. Wrench was again sent for, but -was gone on his rounds, and Mrs. Vincy seeing her darlings changed -looks and general misery, began to cry and said she would send for Dr. -Sprague. - -Oh, nonsense, mother! Its nothing, said Fred, putting out his hot -dry hand to her, I shall soon be all right. I must have taken cold in -that nasty damp ride. - -Mamma! said Rosamond, who was seated near the window (the dining-room -windows looked on that highly respectable street called Lowick Gate), -there is Mr. Lydgate, stopping to speak to some one. If I were you I -would call him in. He has cured Ellen Bulstrode. They say he cures -every one. - -Mrs. Vincy sprang to the window and opened it in an instant, thinking -only of Fred and not of medical etiquette. Lydgate was only two yards -off on the other side of some iron palisading, and turned round at the -sudden sound of the sash, before she called to him. In two minutes he -was in the room, and Rosamond went out, after waiting just long enough -to show a pretty anxiety conflicting with her sense of what was -becoming. - -Lydgate had to hear a narrative in which Mrs. Vincys mind insisted -with remarkable instinct on every point of minor importance, especially -on what Mr. Wrench had said and had not said about coming again. That -there might be an awkward affair with Wrench, Lydgate saw at once; but -the case was serious enough to make him dismiss that consideration: he -was convinced that Fred was in the pink-skinned stage of typhoid fever, -and that he had taken just the wrong medicines. He must go to bed -immediately, must have a regular nurse, and various appliances and -precautions must be used, about which Lydgate was particular. Poor Mrs. -Vincys terror at these indications of danger found vent in such words -as came most easily. She thought it very ill usage on the part of Mr. -Wrench, who had attended their house so many years in preference to Mr. -Peacock, though Mr. Peacock was equally a friend. Why Mr. Wrench should -neglect her children more than others, she could not for the life of -her understand. He had not neglected Mrs. Larchers when they had the -measles, nor indeed would Mrs. Vincy have wished that he should. And if -anything should happen - -Here poor Mrs. Vincys spirit quite broke down, and her Niobe throat -and good-humored face were sadly convulsed. This was in the hall out of -Freds hearing, but Rosamond had opened the drawing-room door, and now -came forward anxiously. Lydgate apologized for Mr. Wrench, said that -the symptoms yesterday might have been disguising, and that this form -of fever was very equivocal in its beginnings: he would go immediately -to the druggists and have a prescription made up in order to lose no -time, but he would write to Mr. Wrench and tell him what had been done. - -But you must come againyou must go on attending Fred. I cant have my -boy left to anybody who may come or not. I bear nobody ill-will, thank -God, and Mr. Wrench saved me in the pleurisy, but hed better have let -me dieifif - -I will meet Mr. Wrench here, then, shall I? said Lydgate, really -believing that Wrench was not well prepared to deal wisely with a case -of this kind. - -Pray make that arrangement, Mr. Lydgate, said Rosamond, coming to her -mothers aid, and supporting her arm to lead her away. - -When Mr. Vincy came home he was very angry with Wrench, and did not -care if he never came into his house again. Lydgate should go on now, -whether Wrench liked it or not. It was no joke to have fever in the -house. Everybody must be sent to now, not to come to dinner on -Thursday. And Pritchard neednt get up any wine: brandy was the best -thing against infection. I shall drink brandy, added Mr. Vincy, -emphaticallyas much as to say, this was not an occasion for firing -with blank-cartridges. Hes an uncommonly unfortunate lad, is Fred. -Hed need have some luck by and by to make up for all thiselse I dont -know whod have an eldest son. - -Dont say so, Vincy, said the mother, with a quivering lip, if you -dont want him to be taken from me. - -It will worret you to death, Lucy; _that_ I can see, said Mr. Vincy, -more mildly. However, Wrench shall know what I think of the matter. -(What Mr. Vincy thought confusedly was, that the fever might somehow -have been hindered if Wrench had shown the proper solicitude about -histhe Mayorsfamily.) Im the last man to give in to the cry about -new doctors, or new parsons eitherwhether theyre Bulstrodes men or -not. But Wrench shall know what I think, take it as he will. - -Wrench did not take it at all well. Lydgate was as polite as he could -be in his offhand way, but politeness in a man who has placed you at a -disadvantage is only an additional exasperation, especially if he -happens to have been an object of dislike beforehand. Country -practitioners used to be an irritable species, susceptible on the point -of honor; and Mr. Wrench was one of the most irritable among them. He -did not refuse to meet Lydgate in the evening, but his temper was -somewhat tried on the occasion. He had to hear Mrs. Vincy say - -Oh, Mr. Wrench, what have I ever done that you should use me so? To -go away, and never to come again! And my boy might have been stretched -a corpse! - -Mr. Vincy, who had been keeping up a sharp fire on the enemy Infection, -and was a good deal heated in consequence, started up when he heard -Wrench come in, and went into the hall to let him know what he thought. - -Ill tell you what, Wrench, this is beyond a joke, said the Mayor, -who of late had had to rebuke offenders with an official air, and now -broadened himself by putting his thumbs in his armholes. To let fever -get unawares into a house like this. There are some things that ought -to be actionable, and are not so thats my opinion. - -But irrational reproaches were easier to bear than the sense of being -instructed, or rather the sense that a younger man, like Lydgate, -inwardly considered him in need of instruction, for in point of fact, -Mr. Wrench afterwards said, Lydgate paraded flighty, foreign notions, -which would not wear. He swallowed his ire for the moment, but he -afterwards wrote to decline further attendance in the case. The house -might be a good one, but Mr. Wrench was not going to truckle to anybody -on a professional matter. He reflected, with much probability on his -side, that Lydgate would by-and-by be caught tripping too, and that his -ungentlemanly attempts to discredit the sale of drugs by his -professional brethren, would by-and-by recoil on himself. He threw out -biting remarks on Lydgates tricks, worthy only of a quack, to get -himself a factitious reputation with credulous people. That cant about -cures was never got up by sound practitioners. - -This was a point on which Lydgate smarted as much as Wrench could -desire. To be puffed by ignorance was not only humiliating, but -perilous, and not more enviable than the reputation of the -weather-prophet. He was impatient of the foolish expectations amidst -which all work must be carried on, and likely enough to damage himself -as much as Mr. Wrench could wish, by an unprofessional openness. - -However, Lydgate was installed as medical attendant on the Vincys, and -the event was a subject of general conversation in Middlemarch. Some -said, that the Vincys had behaved scandalously, that Mr. Vincy had -threatened Wrench, and that Mrs. Vincy had accused him of poisoning her -son. Others were of opinion that Mr. Lydgates passing by was -providential, that he was wonderfully clever in fevers, and that -Bulstrode was in the right to bring him forward. Many people believed -that Lydgates coming to the town at all was really due to Bulstrode; -and Mrs. Taft, who was always counting stitches and gathered her -information in misleading fragments caught between the rows of her -knitting, had got it into her head that Mr. Lydgate was a natural son -of Bulstrodes, a fact which seemed to justify her suspicions of -evangelical laymen. - -She one day communicated this piece of knowledge to Mrs. Farebrother, -who did not fail to tell her son of it, observing - -I should not be surprised at anything in Bulstrode, but I should be -sorry to think it of Mr. Lydgate. - -Why, mother, said Mr. Farebrother, after an explosive laugh, you -know very well that Lydgate is of a good family in the North. He never -heard of Bulstrode before he came here. - -That is satisfactory so far as Mr. Lydgate is concerned, Camden, said -the old lady, with an air of precision.But as to Bulstrodethe report -may be true of some other son. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -Let the high Muse chant loves Olympian: -We are but mortals, and must sing of man. - - -An eminent philosopher among my friends, who can dignify even your ugly -furniture by lifting it into the serene light of science, has shown me -this pregnant little fact. Your pier-glass or extensive surface of -polished steel made to be rubbed by a housemaid, will be minutely and -multitudinously scratched in all directions; but place now against it a -lighted candle as a centre of illumination, and lo! the scratches will -seem to arrange themselves in a fine series of concentric circles round -that little sun. It is demonstrable that the scratches are going -everywhere impartially and it is only your candle which produces the -flattering illusion of a concentric arrangement, its light falling with -an exclusive optical selection. These things are a parable. The -scratches are events, and the candle is the egoism of any person now -absentof Miss Vincy, for example. Rosamond had a Providence of her own -who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, and who seemed -to have arranged Freds illness and Mr. Wrenchs mistake in order to -bring her and Lydgate within effective proximity. It would have been to -contravene these arrangements if Rosamond had consented to go away to -Stone Court or elsewhere, as her parents wished her to do, especially -since Mr. Lydgate thought the precaution needless. Therefore, while -Miss Morgan and the children were sent away to a farmhouse the morning -after Freds illness had declared itself, Rosamond refused to leave -papa and mamma. - -Poor mamma indeed was an object to touch any creature born of woman; -and Mr. Vincy, who doted on his wife, was more alarmed on her account -than on Freds. But for his insistence she would have taken no rest: -her brightness was all bedimmed; unconscious of her costume which had -always been so fresh and gay, she was like a sick bird with languid eye -and plumage ruffled, her senses dulled to the sights and sounds that -used most to interest her. Freds delirium, in which he seemed to be -wandering out of her reach, tore her heart. After her first outburst -against Mr. Wrench she went about very quietly: her one low cry was to -Lydgate. She would follow him out of the room and put her hand on his -arm moaning out, Save my boy. Once she pleaded, He has always been -good to me, Mr. Lydgate: he never had a hard word for his mother,as -if poor Freds suffering were an accusation against him. All the -deepest fibres of the mothers memory were stirred, and the young man -whose voice took a gentler tone when he spoke to her, was one with the -babe whom she had loved, with a love new to her, before he was born. - -I have good hope, Mrs. Vincy, Lydgate would say. Come down with me -and let us talk about the food. In that way he led her to the parlor -where Rosamond was, and made a change for her, surprising her into -taking some tea or broth which had been prepared for her. There was a -constant understanding between him and Rosamond on these matters. He -almost always saw her before going to the sickroom, and she appealed to -him as to what she could do for mamma. Her presence of mind and -adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and it is not -wonderful that the idea of seeing Rosamond began to mingle itself with -his interest in the case. Especially when the critical stage was -passed, and he began to feel confident of Freds recovery. In the more -doubtful time, he had advised calling in Dr. Sprague (who, if he could, -would rather have remained neutral on Wrenchs account); but after two -consultations, the conduct of the case was left to Lydgate, and there -was every reason to make him assiduous. Morning and evening he was at -Mr. Vincys, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became -simply feeble, and lay not only in need of the utmost petting but -conscious of it, so that Mrs. Vincy felt as if, after all, the illness -had made a festival for her tenderness. - -Both father and mother held it an added reason for good spirits, when -old Mr. Featherstone sent messages by Lydgate, saying that Fred must -make haste and get well, as he, Peter Featherstone, could not do -without him, and missed his visits sadly. The old man himself was -getting bedridden. Mrs. Vincy told these messages to Fred when he could -listen, and he turned towards her his delicate, pinched face, from -which all the thick blond hair had been cut away, and in which the eyes -seemed to have got larger, yearning for some word about Marywondering -what she felt about his illness. No word passed his lips; but to hear -with eyes belongs to loves rare wit, and the mother in the fulness of -her heart not only divined Freds longing, but felt ready for any -sacrifice in order to satisfy him. - -If I can only see my boy strong again, she said, in her loving folly; -and who knows?perhaps master of Stone Court! and he can marry anybody -he likes then. - -Not if they wont have me, mother, said Fred. The illness had made -him childish, and tears came as he spoke. - -Oh, take a bit of jelly, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, secretly -incredulous of any such refusal. - -She never left Freds side when her husband was not in the house, and -thus Rosamond was in the unusual position of being much alone. Lydgate, -naturally, never thought of staying long with her, yet it seemed that -the brief impersonal conversations they had together were creating that -peculiar intimacy which consists in shyness. They were obliged to look -at each other in speaking, and somehow the looking could not be carried -through as the matter of course which it really was. Lydgate began to -feel this sort of consciousness unpleasant and one day looked down, or -anywhere, like an ill-worked puppet. But this turned out badly: the -next day, Rosamond looked down, and the consequence was that when their -eyes met again, both were more conscious than before. There was no help -for this in science, and as Lydgate did not want to flirt, there seemed -to be no help for it in folly. It was therefore a relief when neighbors -no longer considered the house in quarantine, and when the chances of -seeing Rosamond alone were very much reduced. - -But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the -other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to -be done away with. Talk about the weather and other well-bred topics is -apt to seem a hollow device, and behavior can hardly become easy unless -it frankly recognizes a mutual fascinationwhich of course need not -mean anything deep or serious. This was the way in which Rosamond and -Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and made their intercourse lively -again. Visitors came and went as usual, there was once more music in -the drawing-room, and all the extra hospitality of Mr. Vincys -mayoralty returned. Lydgate, whenever he could, took his seat by -Rosamonds side, and lingered to hear her music, calling himself her -captivemeaning, all the while, not to be her captive. The -preposterousness of the notion that he could at once set up a -satisfactory establishment as a married man was a sufficient guarantee -against danger. This play at being a little in love was agreeable, and -did not interfere with graver pursuits. Flirtation, after all, was not -necessarily a singeing process. Rosamond, for her part, had never -enjoyed the days so much in her life before: she was sure of being -admired by some one worth captivating, and she did not distinguish -flirtation from love, either in herself or in another. She seemed to be -sailing with a fair wind just whither she would go, and her thoughts -were much occupied with a handsome house in Lowick Gate which she hoped -would by-and-by be vacant. She was quite determined, when she was -married, to rid herself adroitly of all the visitors who were not -agreeable to her at her fathers; and she imagined the drawing-room in -her favorite house with various styles of furniture. - -Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate himself; he -seemed to her almost perfect: if he had known his notes so that his -enchantment under her music had been less like an emotional elephants, -and if he had been able to discriminate better the refinements of her -taste in dress, she could hardly have mentioned a deficiency in him. -How different he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Those -young men had not a notion of French, and could speak on no subject -with striking knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, -which of course they were ashamed to mention; they were Middlemarch -gentry, elated with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, but -embarrassed in their manners, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above -them, having at least the accent and manner of a university man. -Whereas Lydgate was always listened to, bore himself with the careless -politeness of conscious superiority, and seemed to have the right -clothes on by a certain natural affinity, without ever having to think -about them. Rosamond was proud when he entered the room, and when he -approached her with a distinguishing smile, she had a delicious sense -that she was the object of enviable homage. If Lydgate had been aware -of all the pride he excited in that delicate bosom, he might have been -just as well pleased as any other man, even the most densely ignorant -of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he held it one of the prettiest -attitudes of the feminine mind to adore a mans pre-eminence without -too precise a knowledge of what it consisted in. But Rosamond was not -one of those helpless girls who betray themselves unawares, and whose -behavior is awkwardly driven by their impulses, instead of being -steered by wary grace and propriety. Do you imagine that her rapid -forecast and rumination concerning house-furniture and society were -ever discernible in her conversation, even with her mamma? On the -contrary, she would have expressed the prettiest surprise and -disapprobation if she had heard that another young lady had been -detected in that immodest prematurenessindeed, would probably have -disbelieved in its possibility. For Rosamond never showed any -unbecoming knowledge, and was always that combination of correct -sentiments, music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private -album for extracted verse, and perfect blond loveliness, which made the -irresistible woman for the doomed man of that date. Think no unfair -evil of her, pray: she had no wicked plots, nothing sordid or -mercenary; in fact, she never thought of money except as something -necessary which other people would always provide. She was not in the -habit of devising falsehoods, and if her statements were no direct clew -to fact, why, they were not intended in that lightthey were among her -elegant accomplishments, intended to please. Nature had inspired many -arts in finishing Mrs. Lemons favorite pupil, who by general consent -(Freds excepted) was a rare compound of beauty, cleverness, and -amiability. - -Lydgate found it more and more agreeable to be with her, and there was -no constraint now, there was a delightful interchange of influence in -their eyes, and what they said had that superfluity of meaning for -them, which is observable with some sense of flatness by a third -person; still they had no interviews or asides from which a third -person need have been excluded. In fact, they flirted; and Lydgate was -secure in the belief that they did nothing else. If a man could not -love and be wise, surely he could flirt and be wise at the same time? -Really, the men in Middlemarch, except Mr. Farebrother, were great -bores, and Lydgate did not care about commercial politics or cards: -what was he to do for relaxation? He was often invited to the -Bulstrodes; but the girls there were hardly out of the schoolroom; and -Mrs. Bulstrodes _naive_ way of conciliating piety and worldliness, the -nothingness of this life and the desirability of cut glass, the -consciousness at once of filthy rags and the best damask, was not a -sufficient relief from the weight of her husbands invariable -seriousness. The Vincys house, with all its faults, was the pleasanter -by contrast; besides, it nourished Rosamondsweet to look at as a -half-opened blush-rose, and adorned with accomplishments for the -refined amusement of man. - -But he made some enemies, other than medical, by his success with Miss -Vincy. One evening he came into the drawing-room rather late, when -several other visitors were there. The card-table had drawn off the -elders, and Mr. Ned Plymdale (one of the good matches in Middlemarch, -though not one of its leading minds) was in _tte--tte_ with -Rosamond. He had brought the last Keepsake, the gorgeous watered-silk -publication which marked modern progress at that time; and he -considered himself very fortunate that he could be the first to look -over it with her, dwelling on the ladies and gentlemen with shiny -copper-plate cheeks and copper-plate smiles, and pointing to comic -verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting. Rosamond was -gracious, and Mr. Ned was satisfied that he had the very best thing in -art and literature as a medium for paying addressesthe very thing to -please a nice girl. He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, -for being satisfied with his own appearance. To superficial observers -his chin had too vanishing an aspect, looking as if it were being -gradually reabsorbed. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about -the fit of his satin stocks, for which chins were at that time useful. - -I think the Honorable Mrs. S. is something like you, said Mr. Ned. He -kept the book open at the bewitching portrait, and looked at it rather -languishingly. - -Her back is very large; she seems to have sat for that, said -Rosamond, not meaning any satire, but thinking how red young Plymdales -hands were, and wondering why Lydgate did not come. She went on with -her tatting all the while. - -I did not say she was as beautiful as you are, said Mr. Ned, -venturing to look from the portrait to its rival. - -I suspect you of being an adroit flatterer, said Rosamond, feeling -sure that she should have to reject this young gentleman a second time. - -But now Lydgate came in; the book was closed before he reached -Rosamonds corner, and as he took his seat with easy confidence on the -other side of her, young Plymdales jaw fell like a barometer towards -the cheerless side of change. Rosamond enjoyed not only Lydgates -presence but its effect: she liked to excite jealousy. - -What a late comer you are! she said, as they shook hands. Mamma had -given you up a little while ago. How do you find Fred? - -As usual; going on well, but slowly. I want him to go awayto Stone -Court, for example. But your mamma seems to have some objection. - -Poor fellow! said Rosamond, prettily. You will see Fred so changed, -she added, turning to the other suitor; we have looked to Mr. Lydgate -as our guardian angel during this illness. - -Mr. Ned smiled nervously, while Lydgate, drawing the Keepsake towards -him and opening it, gave a short scornful laugh and tossed up his chin, -as if in wonderment at human folly. - -What are you laughing at so profanely? said Rosamond, with bland -neutrality. - -I wonder which would turn out to be the silliestthe engravings or the -writing here, said Lydgate, in his most convinced tone, while he -turned over the pages quickly, seeming to see all through the book in -no time, and showing his large white hands to much advantage, as -Rosamond thought. Do look at this bridegroom coming out of church: did -you ever see such a sugared inventionas the Elizabethans used to -say? Did any haberdasher ever look so smirking? Yet I will answer for -it the story makes him one of the first gentlemen in the land. - -You are so severe, I am frightened at you, said Rosamond, keeping her -amusement duly moderate. Poor young Plymdale had lingered with -admiration over this very engraving, and his spirit was stirred. - -There are a great many celebrated people writing in the Keepsake, at -all events, he said, in a tone at once piqued and timid. This is the -first time I have heard it called silly. - -I think I shall turn round on you and accuse you of being a Goth, -said Rosamond, looking at Lydgate with a smile. I suspect you know -nothing about Lady Blessington and L. E. L. Rosamond herself was not -without relish for these writers, but she did not readily commit -herself by admiration, and was alive to the slightest hint that -anything was not, according to Lydgate, in the very highest taste. - -But Sir Walter ScottI suppose Mr. Lydgate knows him, said young -Plymdale, a little cheered by this advantage. - -Oh, I read no literature now, said Lydgate, shutting the book, and -pushing it away. I read so much when I was a lad, that I suppose it -will last me all my life. I used to know Scotts poems by heart. - -I should like to know when you left off, said Rosamond, because then -I might be sure that I knew something which you did not know. - -Mr. Lydgate would say that was not worth knowing, said Mr. Ned, -purposely caustic. - -On the contrary, said Lydgate, showing no smart; but smiling with -exasperating confidence at Rosamond. It would be worth knowing by the -fact that Miss Vincy could tell it me. - -Young Plymdale soon went to look at the whist-playing, thinking that -Lydgate was one of the most conceited, unpleasant fellows it had ever -been his ill-fortune to meet. - -How rash you are! said Rosamond, inwardly delighted. Do you see that -you have given offence? - -What! is it Mr. Plymdales book? I am sorry. I didnt think about it. - -I shall begin to admit what you said of yourself when you first came -herethat you are a bear, and want teaching by the birds. - -Well, there is a bird who can teach me what she will. Dont I listen -to her willingly? - -To Rosamond it seemed as if she and Lydgate were as good as engaged. -That they were some time to be engaged had long been an idea in her -mind; and ideas, we know, tend to a more solid kind of existence, the -necessary materials being at hand. It is true, Lydgate had the -counter-idea of remaining unengaged; but this was a mere negative, a -shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of -shrinking. Circumstance was almost sure to be on the side of Rosamonds -idea, which had a shaping activity and looked through watchful blue -eyes, whereas Lydgates lay blind and unconcerned as a jelly-fish which -gets melted without knowing it. - -That evening when he went home, he looked at his phials to see how a -process of maceration was going on, with undisturbed interest; and he -wrote out his daily notes with as much precision as usual. The reveries -from which it was difficult for him to detach himself were ideal -constructions of something else than Rosamonds virtues, and the -primitive tissue was still his fair unknown. Moreover, he was beginning -to feel some zest for the growing though half-suppressed feud between -him and the other medical men, which was likely to become more -manifest, now that Bulstrodes method of managing the new hospital was -about to be declared; and there were various inspiriting signs that his -non-acceptance by some of Peacocks patients might be counterbalanced -by the impression he had produced in other quarters. Only a few days -later, when he had happened to overtake Rosamond on the Lowick road and -had got down from his horse to walk by her side until he had quite -protected her from a passing drove, he had been stopped by a servant on -horseback with a message calling him in to a house of some importance -where Peacock had never attended; and it was the second instance of -this kind. The servant was Sir James Chettams, and the house was -Lowick Manor. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -1_st Gent_. All times are good to seek your wedded home - Bringing a mutual delight. - -2_d Gent_. Why, true. - The calendar hath not an evil day - For souls made one by love, and even death - Were sweetness, if it came like rolling waves - While they two clasped each other, and foresaw - No life apart. - - -Mr. and Mrs. Casaubon, returning from their wedding journey, arrived at -Lowick Manor in the middle of January. A light snow was falling as they -descended at the door, and in the morning, when Dorothea passed from -her dressing-room into the blue-green boudoir that we know of, she saw -the long avenue of limes lifting their trunks from a white earth, and -spreading white branches against the dun and motionless sky. The -distant flat shrank in uniform whiteness and low-hanging uniformity of -cloud. The very furniture in the room seemed to have shrunk since she -saw it before: the stag in the tapestry looked more like a ghost in his -ghostly blue-green world; the volumes of polite literature in the -bookcase looked more like immovable imitations of books. The bright -fire of dry oak-boughs burning on the logs seemed an incongruous -renewal of life and glowlike the figure of Dorothea herself as she -entered carrying the red-leather cases containing the cameos for Celia. - -She was glowing from her morning toilet as only healthful youth can -glow: there was gem-like brightness on her coiled hair and in her hazel -eyes; there was warm red life in her lips; her throat had a breathing -whiteness above the differing white of the fur which itself seemed to -wind about her neck and cling down her blue-gray pelisse with a -tenderness gathered from her own, a sentient commingled innocence which -kept its loveliness against the crystalline purity of the outdoor snow. -As she laid the cameo-cases on the table in the bow-window, she -unconsciously kept her hands on them, immediately absorbed in looking -out on the still, white enclosure which made her visible world. - -Mr. Casaubon, who had risen early complaining of palpitation, was in -the library giving audience to his curate Mr. Tucker. By-and-by Celia -would come in her quality of bridesmaid as well as sister, and through -the next weeks there would be wedding visits received and given; all in -continuance of that transitional life understood to correspond with the -excitement of bridal felicity, and keeping up the sense of busy -ineffectiveness, as of a dream which the dreamer begins to suspect. The -duties of her married life, contemplated as so great beforehand, seemed -to be shrinking with the furniture and the white vapor-walled -landscape. The clear heights where she expected to walk in full -communion had become difficult to see even in her imagination; the -delicious repose of the soul on a complete superior had been shaken -into uneasy effort and alarmed with dim presentiment. When would the -days begin of that active wifely devotion which was to strengthen her -husbands life and exalt her own? Never perhaps, as she had -preconceived them; but somehowstill somehow. In this solemnly pledged -union of her life, duty would present itself in some new form of -inspiration and give a new meaning to wifely love. - -Meanwhile there was the snow and the low arch of dun vaporthere was -the stifling oppression of that gentlewomans world, where everything -was done for her and none asked for her aidwhere the sense of -connection with a manifold pregnant existence had to be kept up -painfully as an inward vision, instead of coming from without in claims -that would have shaped her energies. What shall I do? Whatever you -please, my dear: that had been her brief history since she had left -off learning morning lessons and practising silly rhythms on the hated -piano. Marriage, which was to bring guidance into worthy and imperative -occupation, had not yet freed her from the gentlewomans oppressive -liberty: it had not even filled her leisure with the ruminant joy of -unchecked tenderness. Her blooming full-pulsed youth stood there in a -moral imprisonment which made itself one with the chill, colorless, -narrowed landscape, with the shrunken furniture, the never-read books, -and the ghostly stag in a pale fantastic world that seemed to be -vanishing from the daylight. - -In the first minutes when Dorothea looked out she felt nothing but the -dreary oppression; then came a keen remembrance, and turning away from -the window she walked round the room. The ideas and hopes which were -living in her mind when she first saw this room nearly three months -before were present now only as memories: she judged them as we judge -transient and departed things. All existence seemed to beat with a -lower pulse than her own, and her religious faith was a solitary cry, -the struggle out of a nightmare in which every object was withering and -shrinking away from her. Each remembered thing in the room was -disenchanted, was deadened as an unlit transparency, till her wandering -gaze came to the group of miniatures, and there at last she saw -something which had gathered new breath and meaning: it was the -miniature of Mr. Casaubons aunt Julia, who had made the unfortunate -marriageof Will Ladislaws grandmother. Dorothea could fancy that it -was alive nowthe delicate womans face which yet had a headstrong -look, a peculiarity difficult to interpret. Was it only her friends who -thought her marriage unfortunate? or did she herself find it out to be -a mistake, and taste the salt bitterness of her tears in the merciful -silence of the night? What breadths of experience Dorothea seemed to -have passed over since she first looked at this miniature! She felt a -new companionship with it, as if it had an ear for her and could see -how she was looking at it. Here was a woman who had known some -difficulty about marriage. Nay, the colors deepened, the lips and chin -seemed to get larger, the hair and eyes seemed to be sending out light, -the face was masculine and beamed on her with that full gaze which -tells her on whom it falls that she is too interesting for the -slightest movement of her eyelid to pass unnoticed and uninterpreted. -The vivid presentation came like a pleasant glow to Dorothea: she felt -herself smiling, and turning from the miniature sat down and looked up -as if she were again talking to a figure in front of her. But the smile -disappeared as she went on meditating, and at last she said aloud - -Oh, it was cruel to speak so! How sadhow dreadful! - -She rose quickly and went out of the room, hurrying along the corridor, -with the irresistible impulse to go and see her husband and inquire if -she could do anything for him. Perhaps Mr. Tucker was gone and Mr. -Casaubon was alone in the library. She felt as if all her mornings -gloom would vanish if she could see her husband glad because of her -presence. - -But when she reached the head of the dark oak there was Celia coming -up, and below there was Mr. Brooke, exchanging welcomes and -congratulations with Mr. Casaubon. - -Dodo! said Celia, in her quiet staccato; then kissed her sister, -whose arms encircled her, and said no more. I think they both cried a -little in a furtive manner, while Dorothea ran down-stairs to greet her -uncle. - -I need not ask how you are, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, after kissing -her forehead. Rome has agreed with you, I seehappiness, frescos, the -antiquethat sort of thing. Well, its very pleasant to have you back -again, and you understand all about art now, eh? But Casaubon is a -little pale, I tell hima little pale, you know. Studying hard in his -holidays is carrying it rather too far. I overdid it at one timeMr. -Brooke still held Dorotheas hand, but had turned his face to Mr. -Casaubonabout topography, ruins, templesI thought I had a clew, but -I saw it would carry me too far, and nothing might come of it. You may -go any length in that sort of thing, and nothing may come of it, you -know. - -Dorotheas eyes also were turned up to her husbands face with some -anxiety at the idea that those who saw him afresh after absence might -be aware of signs which she had not noticed. - -Nothing to alarm you, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, observing her -expression. A little English beef and mutton will soon make a -difference. It was all very well to look pale, sitting for the portrait -of Aquinas, you knowwe got your letter just in time. But Aquinas, -nowhe was a little too subtle, wasnt he? Does anybody read Aquinas? - -He is not indeed an author adapted to superficial minds, said Mr. -Casaubon, meeting these timely questions with dignified patience. - -You would like coffee in your own room, uncle? said Dorothea, coming -to the rescue. - -Yes; and you must go to Celia: she has great news to tell you, you -know. I leave it all to her. - -The blue-green boudoir looked much more cheerful when Celia was seated -there in a pelisse exactly like her sisters, surveying the cameos with -a placid satisfaction, while the conversation passed on to other -topics. - -Do you think it nice to go to Rome on a wedding journey? said Celia, -with her ready delicate blush which Dorothea was used to on the -smallest occasions. - -It would not suit allnot you, dear, for example, said Dorothea, -quietly. No one would ever know what she thought of a wedding journey -to Rome. - -Mrs. Cadwallader says it is nonsense, people going a long journey when -they are married. She says they get tired to death of each other, and -cant quarrel comfortably, as they would at home. And Lady Chettam says -she went to Bath. Celias color changed again and againseemed - -To come and go with tidings from the heart, -As it a running messenger had been. - - -It must mean more than Celias blushing usually did. - -Celia! has something happened? said Dorothea, in a tone full of -sisterly feeling. Have you really any great news to tell me? - -It was because you went away, Dodo. Then there was nobody but me for -Sir James to talk to, said Celia, with a certain roguishness in her -eyes. - -I understand. It is as I used to hope and believe, said Dorothea, -taking her sisters face between her hands, and looking at her half -anxiously. Celias marriage seemed more serious than it used to do. - -It was only three days ago, said Celia. And Lady Chettam is very -kind. - -And you are very happy? - -Yes. We are not going to be married yet. Because every thing is to be -got ready. And I dont want to be married so very soon, because I think -it is nice to be engaged. And we shall be married all our lives after. - -I do believe you could not marry better, Kitty. Sir James is a good, -honorable man, said Dorothea, warmly. - -He has gone on with the cottages, Dodo. He will tell you about them -when he comes. Shall you be glad to see him? - -Of course I shall. How can you ask me? - -Only I was afraid you would be getting so learned, said Celia, -regarding Mr. Casaubons learning as a kind of damp which might in due -time saturate a neighboring body. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -I found that no genius in another could please me. My unfortunate -paradoxes had entirely dried up that source of comfort.GOLDSMITH. - - -One morning, some weeks after her arrival at Lowick, Dorotheabut why -always Dorothea? Was her point of view the only possible one with -regard to this marriage? I protest against all our interest, all our -effort at understanding being given to the young skins that look -blooming in spite of trouble; for these too will get faded, and will -know the older and more eating griefs which we are helping to neglect. -In spite of the blinking eyes and white moles objectionable to Celia, -and the want of muscular curve which was morally painful to Sir James, -Mr. Casaubon had an intense consciousness within him, and was -spiritually a-hungered like the rest of us. He had done nothing -exceptional in marryingnothing but what society sanctions, and -considers an occasion for wreaths and bouquets. It had occurred to him -that he must not any longer defer his intention of matrimony, and he -had reflected that in taking a wife, a man of good position should -expect and carefully choose a blooming young ladythe younger the -better, because more educable and submissiveof a rank equal to his -own, of religious principles, virtuous disposition, and good -understanding. On such a young lady he would make handsome settlements, -and he would neglect no arrangement for her happiness: in return, he -should receive family pleasures and leave behind him that copy of -himself which seemed so urgently required of a manto the sonneteers of -the sixteenth century. Times had altered since then, and no sonneteer -had insisted on Mr. Casaubons leaving a copy of himself; moreover, he -had not yet succeeded in issuing copies of his mythological key; but he -had always intended to acquit himself by marriage, and the sense that -he was fast leaving the years behind him, that the world was getting -dimmer and that he felt lonely, was a reason to him for losing no more -time in overtaking domestic delights before they too were left behind -by the years. - -And when he had seen Dorothea he believed that he had found even more -than he demanded: she might really be such a helpmate to him as would -enable him to dispense with a hired secretary, an aid which Mr. -Casaubon had never yet employed and had a suspicious dread of. (Mr. -Casaubon was nervously conscious that he was expected to manifest a -powerful mind.) Providence, in its kindness, had supplied him with the -wife he needed. A wife, a modest young lady, with the purely -appreciative, unambitious abilities of her sex, is sure to think her -husbands mind powerful. Whether Providence had taken equal care of -Miss Brooke in presenting her with Mr. Casaubon was an idea which could -hardly occur to him. Society never made the preposterous demand that a -man should think as much about his own qualifications for making a -charming girl happy as he thinks of hers for making himself happy. As -if a man could choose not only his wife but his wifes husband! Or as -if he were bound to provide charms for his posterity in his own -person! When Dorothea accepted him with effusion, that was only -natural; and Mr. Casaubon believed that his happiness was going to -begin. - -He had not had much foretaste of happiness in his previous life. To -know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an -enthusiastic soul. Mr. Casaubon had never had a strong bodily frame, -and his soul was sensitive without being enthusiastic: it was too -languid to thrill out of self-consciousness into passionate delight; it -went on fluttering in the swampy ground where it was hatched, thinking -of its wings and never flying. His experience was of that pitiable kind -which shrinks from pity, and fears most of all that it should be known: -it was that proud narrow sensitiveness which has not mass enough to -spare for transformation into sympathy, and quivers thread-like in -small currents of self-preoccupation or at best of an egoistic -scrupulosity. And Mr. Casaubon had many scruples: he was capable of a -severe self-restraint; he was resolute in being a man of honor -according to the code; he would be unimpeachable by any recognized -opinion. In conduct these ends had been attained; but the difficulty of -making his Key to all Mythologies unimpeachable weighed like lead upon -his mind; and the pamphletsor Parerga as he called themby which he -tested his public and deposited small monumental records of his march, -were far from having been seen in all their significance. He suspected -the Archdeacon of not having read them; he was in painful doubt as to -what was really thought of them by the leading minds of Brasenose, and -bitterly convinced that his old acquaintance Carp had been the writer -of that depreciatory recension which was kept locked in a small drawer -of Mr. Casaubons desk, and also in a dark closet of his verbal memory. -These were heavy impressions to struggle against, and brought that -melancholy embitterment which is the consequence of all excessive -claim: even his religious faith wavered with his wavering trust in his -own authorship, and the consolations of the Christian hope in -immortality seemed to lean on the immortality of the still unwritten -Key to all Mythologies. For my part I am very sorry for him. It is an -uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to -enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be -liberated from a small hungry shivering selfnever to be fully -possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness -rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardor of a -passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and -uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted. Becoming a -dean or even a bishop would make little difference, I fear, to Mr. -Casaubons uneasiness. Doubtless some ancient Greek has observed that -behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our -poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous lips more or less -under anxious control. - -To this mental estate mapped out a quarter of a century before, to -sensibilities thus fenced in, Mr. Casaubon had thought of annexing -happiness with a lovely young bride; but even before marriage, as we -have seen, he found himself under a new depression in the consciousness -that the new bliss was not blissful to him. Inclination yearned back to -its old, easier custom. And the deeper he went in domesticity the more -did the sense of acquitting himself and acting with propriety -predominate over any other satisfaction. Marriage, like religion and -erudition, nay, like authorship itself, was fated to become an outward -requirement, and Edward Casaubon was bent on fulfilling unimpeachably -all requirements. Even drawing Dorothea into use in his study, -according to his own intention before marriage, was an effort which he -was always tempted to defer, and but for her pleading insistence it -might never have begun. But she had succeeded in making it a matter of -course that she should take her place at an early hour in the library -and have work either of reading aloud or copying assigned her. The work -had been easier to define because Mr. Casaubon had adopted an immediate -intention: there was to be a new Parergon, a small monograph on some -lately traced indications concerning the Egyptian mysteries whereby -certain assertions of Warburtons could be corrected. References were -extensive even here, but not altogether shoreless; and sentences were -actually to be written in the shape wherein they would be scanned by -Brasenose and a less formidable posterity. These minor monumental -productions were always exciting to Mr. Casaubon; digestion was made -difficult by the interference of citations, or by the rivalry of -dialectical phrases ringing against each other in his brain. And from -the first there was to be a Latin dedication about which everything was -uncertain except that it was not to be addressed to Carp: it was a -poisonous regret to Mr. Casaubon that he had once addressed a -dedication to Carp in which he had numbered that member of the animal -kingdom among the _viros nullo vo perituros_, a mistake which would -infallibly lay the dedicator open to ridicule in the next age, and -might even be chuckled over by Pike and Tench in the present. - -Thus Mr. Casaubon was in one of his busiest epochs, and as I began to -say a little while ago, Dorothea joined him early in the library where -he had breakfasted alone. Celia at this time was on a second visit to -Lowick, probably the last before her marriage, and was in the -drawing-room expecting Sir James. - -Dorothea had learned to read the signs of her husbands mood, and she -saw that the morning had become more foggy there during the last hour. -She was going silently to her desk when he said, in that distant tone -which implied that he was discharging a disagreeable duty - -Dorothea, here is a letter for you, which was enclosed in one -addressed to me. - -It was a letter of two pages, and she immediately looked at the -signature. - -Mr. Ladislaw! What can he have to say to me? she exclaimed, in a tone -of pleased surprise. But, she added, looking at Mr. Casaubon, I can -imagine what he has written to you about. - -You can, if you please, read the letter, said Mr. Casaubon, severely -pointing to it with his pen, and not looking at her. But I may as well -say beforehand, that I must decline the proposal it contains to pay a -visit here. I trust I may be excused for desiring an interval of -complete freedom from such distractions as have been hitherto -inevitable, and especially from guests whose desultory vivacity makes -their presence a fatigue. - -There had been no clashing of temper between Dorothea and her husband -since that little explosion in Rome, which had left such strong traces -in her mind that it had been easier ever since to quell emotion than to -incur the consequence of venting it. But this ill-tempered anticipation -that she could desire visits which might be disagreeable to her -husband, this gratuitous defence of himself against selfish complaint -on her part, was too sharp a sting to be meditated on until after it -had been resented. Dorothea had thought that she could have been -patient with John Milton, but she had never imagined him behaving in -this way; and for a moment Mr. Casaubon seemed to be stupidly -undiscerning and odiously unjust. Pity, that new-born babe which was -by-and-by to rule many a storm within her, did not stride the blast -on this occasion. With her first words, uttered in a tone that shook -him, she startled Mr. Casaubon into looking at her, and meeting the -flash of her eyes. - -Why do you attribute to me a wish for anything that would annoy you? -You speak to me as if I were something you had to contend against. Wait -at least till I appear to consult my own pleasure apart from yours. - -Dorothea, you are hasty, answered Mr. Casaubon, nervously. - -Decidedly, this woman was too young to be on the formidable level of -wifehoodunless she had been pale and featureless and taken everything -for granted. - -I think it was you who were first hasty in your false suppositions -about my feeling, said Dorothea, in the same tone. The fire was not -dissipated yet, and she thought it was ignoble in her husband not to -apologize to her. - -We will, if you please, say no more on this subject, Dorothea. I have -neither leisure nor energy for this kind of debate. - -Here Mr. Casaubon dipped his pen and made as if he would return to his -writing, though his hand trembled so much that the words seemed to be -written in an unknown character. There are answers which, in turning -away wrath, only send it to the other end of the room, and to have a -discussion coolly waived when you feel that justice is all on your own -side is even more exasperating in marriage than in philosophy. - -Dorothea left Ladislaws two letters unread on her husbands -writing-table and went to her own place, the scorn and indignation -within her rejecting the reading of these letters, just as we hurl away -any trash towards which we seem to have been suspected of mean -cupidity. She did not in the least divine the subtle sources of her -husbands bad temper about these letters: she only knew that they had -caused him to offend her. She began to work at once, and her hand did -not tremble; on the contrary, in writing out the quotations which had -been given to her the day before, she felt that she was forming her -letters beautifully, and it seemed to her that she saw the construction -of the Latin she was copying, and which she was beginning to -understand, more clearly than usual. In her indignation there was a -sense of superiority, but it went out for the present in firmness of -stroke, and did not compress itself into an inward articulate voice -pronouncing the once affable archangel a poor creature. - -There had been this apparent quiet for half an hour, and Dorothea had -not looked away from her own table, when she heard the loud bang of a -book on the floor, and turning quickly saw Mr. Casaubon on the library -steps clinging forward as if he were in some bodily distress. She -started up and bounded towards him in an instant: he was evidently in -great straits for breath. Jumping on a stool she got close to his elbow -and said with her whole soul melted into tender alarm - -Can you lean on me, dear? - -He was still for two or three minutes, which seemed endless to her, -unable to speak or move, gasping for breath. When at last he descended -the three steps and fell backward in the large chair which Dorothea had -drawn close to the foot of the ladder, he no longer gasped but seemed -helpless and about to faint. Dorothea rang the bell violently, and -presently Mr. Casaubon was helped to the couch: he did not faint, and -was gradually reviving, when Sir James Chettam came in, having been met -in the hall with the news that Mr. Casaubon had had a fit in the -library. - -Good God! this is just what might have been expected, was his -immediate thought. If his prophetic soul had been urged to -particularize, it seemed to him that fits would have been the -definite expression alighted upon. He asked his informant, the butler, -whether the doctor had been sent for. The butler never knew his master -to want the doctor before; but would it not be right to send for a -physician? - -When Sir James entered the library, however, Mr. Casaubon could make -some signs of his usual politeness, and Dorothea, who in the reaction -from her first terror had been kneeling and sobbing by his side now -rose and herself proposed that some one should ride off for a medical -man. - -I recommend you to send for Lydgate, said Sir James. My mother has -called him in, and she has found him uncommonly clever. She has had a -poor opinion of the physicians since my fathers death. - -Dorothea appealed to her husband, and he made a silent sign of -approval. So Mr. Lydgate was sent for and he came wonderfully soon, for -the messenger, who was Sir James Chettams man and knew Mr. Lydgate, -met him leading his horse along the Lowick road and giving his arm to -Miss Vincy. - -Celia, in the drawing-room, had known nothing of the trouble till Sir -James told her of it. After Dorotheas account, he no longer considered -the illness a fit, but still something of that nature. - -Poor dear Dodohow dreadful! said Celia, feeling as much grieved as -her own perfect happiness would allow. Her little hands were clasped, -and enclosed by Sir Jamess as a bud is enfolded by a liberal calyx. -It is very shocking that Mr. Casaubon should be ill; but I never did -like him. And I think he is not half fond enough of Dorothea; and he -ought to be, for I am sure no one else would have had himdo you think -they would? - -I always thought it a horrible sacrifice of your sister, said Sir -James. - -Yes. But poor Dodo never did do what other people do, and I think she -never will. - -She is a noble creature, said the loyal-hearted Sir James. He had -just had a fresh impression of this kind, as he had seen Dorothea -stretching her tender arm under her husbands neck and looking at him -with unspeakable sorrow. He did not know how much penitence there was -in the sorrow. - -Yes, said Celia, thinking it was very well for Sir James to say so, -but _he_ would not have been comfortable with Dodo. Shall I go to her? -Could I help her, do you think? - -I think it would be well for you just to go and see her before Lydgate -comes, said Sir James, magnanimously. Only dont stay long. - -While Celia was gone he walked up and down remembering what he had -originally felt about Dorotheas engagement, and feeling a revival of -his disgust at Mr. Brookes indifference. If Cadwalladerif every one -else had regarded the affair as he, Sir James, had done, the marriage -might have been hindered. It was wicked to let a young girl blindly -decide her fate in that way, without any effort to save her. Sir James -had long ceased to have any regrets on his own account: his heart was -satisfied with his engagement to Celia. But he had a chivalrous nature -(was not the disinterested service of woman among the ideal glories of -old chivalry?): his disregarded love had not turned to bitterness; its -death had made sweet odorsfloating memories that clung with a -consecrating effect to Dorothea. He could remain her brotherly friend, -interpreting her actions with generous trustfulness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -Qui veut dlasser hors de propos, lasse.PASCAL. - - -Mr. Casaubon had no second attack of equal severity with the first, and -in a few days began to recover his usual condition. But Lydgate seemed -to think the case worth a great deal of attention. He not only used his -stethoscope (which had not become a matter of course in practice at -that time), but sat quietly by his patient and watched him. To Mr. -Casaubons questions about himself, he replied that the source of the -illness was the common error of intellectual mena too eager and -monotonous application: the remedy was, to be satisfied with moderate -work, and to seek variety of relaxation. Mr. Brooke, who sat by on one -occasion, suggested that Mr. Casaubon should go fishing, as Cadwallader -did, and have a turning-room, make toys, table-legs, and that kind of -thing. - -In short, you recommend me to anticipate the arrival of my second -childhood, said poor Mr. Casaubon, with some bitterness. These -things, he added, looking at Lydgate, would be to me such relaxation -as tow-picking is to prisoners in a house of correction. - -I confess, said Lydgate, smiling, amusement is rather an -unsatisfactory prescription. It is something like telling people to -keep up their spirits. Perhaps I had better say, that you must submit -to be mildly bored rather than to go on working. - -Yes, yes, said Mr. Brooke. Get Dorothea to play backgammon with you -in the evenings. And shuttlecock, nowI dont know a finer game than -shuttlecock for the daytime. I remember it all the fashion. To be sure, -your eyes might not stand that, Casaubon. But you must unbend, you -know. Why, you might take to some light study: conchology, now: I -always think that must be a light study. Or get Dorothea to read you -light things, SmollettRoderick Random, Humphrey Clinker: they are -a little broad, but she may read anything now shes married, you know. -I remember they made me laugh uncommonlytheres a droll bit about a -postilions breeches. We have no such humor now. I have gone through -all these things, but they might be rather new to you. - -As new as eating thistles, would have been an answer to represent Mr. -Casaubons feelings. But he only bowed resignedly, with due respect to -his wifes uncle, and observed that doubtless the works he mentioned -had served as a resource to a certain order of minds. - -You see, said the able magistrate to Lydgate, when they were outside -the door, Casaubon has been a little narrow: it leaves him rather at a -loss when you forbid him his particular work, which I believe is -something very deep indeedin the line of research, you know. I would -never give way to that; I was always versatile. But a clergyman is tied -a little tight. If they would make him a bishop, now!he did a very -good pamphlet for Peel. He would have more movement then, more show; he -might get a little flesh. But I recommend you to talk to Mrs. Casaubon. -She is clever enough for anything, is my niece. Tell her, her husband -wants liveliness, diversion: put her on amusing tactics. - -Without Mr. Brookes advice, Lydgate had determined on speaking to -Dorothea. She had not been present while her uncle was throwing out his -pleasant suggestions as to the mode in which life at Lowick might be -enlivened, but she was usually by her husbands side, and the -unaffected signs of intense anxiety in her face and voice about -whatever touched his mind or health, made a drama which Lydgate was -inclined to watch. He said to himself that he was only doing right in -telling her the truth about her husbands probable future, but he -certainly thought also that it would be interesting to talk -confidentially with her. A medical man likes to make psychological -observations, and sometimes in the pursuit of such studies is too -easily tempted into momentous prophecy which life and death easily set -at nought. Lydgate had often been satirical on this gratuitous -prediction, and he meant now to be guarded. - -He asked for Mrs. Casaubon, but being told that she was out walking, he -was going away, when Dorothea and Celia appeared, both glowing from -their struggle with the March wind. When Lydgate begged to speak with -her alone, Dorothea opened the library door which happened to be the -nearest, thinking of nothing at the moment but what he might have to -say about Mr. Casaubon. It was the first time she had entered this room -since her husband had been taken ill, and the servant had chosen not to -open the shutters. But there was light enough to read by from the -narrow upper panes of the windows. - -You will not mind this sombre light, said Dorothea, standing in the -middle of the room. Since you forbade books, the library has been out -of the question. But Mr. Casaubon will soon be here again, I hope. Is -he not making progress? - -Yes, much more rapid progress than I at first expected. Indeed, he is -already nearly in his usual state of health. - -You do not fear that the illness will return? said Dorothea, whose -quick ear had detected some significance in Lydgates tone. - -Such cases are peculiarly difficult to pronounce upon, said Lydgate. -The only point on which I can be confident is that it will be -desirable to be very watchful on Mr. Casaubons account, lest he should -in any way strain his nervous power. - -I beseech you to speak quite plainly, said Dorothea, in an imploring -tone. I cannot bear to think that there might be something which I did -not know, and which, if I had known it, would have made me act -differently. The words came out like a cry: it was evident that they -were the voice of some mental experience which lay not very far off. - -Sit down, she added, placing herself on the nearest chair, and -throwing off her bonnet and gloves, with an instinctive discarding of -formality where a great question of destiny was concerned. - -What you say now justifies my own view, said Lydgate. I think it is -ones function as a medical man to hinder regrets of that sort as far -as possible. But I beg you to observe that Mr. Casaubons case is -precisely of the kind in which the issue is most difficult to pronounce -upon. He may possibly live for fifteen years or more, without much -worse health than he has had hitherto. - -Dorothea had turned very pale, and when Lydgate paused she said in a -low voice, You mean if we are very careful. - -Yescareful against mental agitation of all kinds, and against -excessive application. - -He would be miserable, if he had to give up his work, said Dorothea, -with a quick prevision of that wretchedness. - -I am aware of that. The only course is to try by all means, direct and -indirect, to moderate and vary his occupations. With a happy -concurrence of circumstances, there is, as I said, no immediate danger -from that affection of the heart, which I believe to have been the -cause of his late attack. On the other hand, it is possible that the -disease may develop itself more rapidly: it is one of those cases in -which death is sometimes sudden. Nothing should be neglected which -might be affected by such an issue. - -There was silence for a few moments, while Dorothea sat as if she had -been turned to marble, though the life within her was so intense that -her mind had never before swept in brief time over an equal range of -scenes and motives. - -Help me, pray, she said, at last, in the same low voice as before. -Tell me what I can do. - -What do you think of foreign travel? You have been lately in Rome, I -think. - -The memories which made this resource utterly hopeless were a new -current that shook Dorothea out of her pallid immobility. - -Oh, that would not dothat would be worse than anything, she said -with a more childlike despondency, while the tears rolled down. -Nothing will be of any use that he does not enjoy. - -I wish that I could have spared you this pain, said Lydgate, deeply -touched, yet wondering about her marriage. Women just like Dorothea had -not entered into his traditions. - -It was right of you to tell me. I thank you for telling me the truth. - -I wish you to understand that I shall not say anything to enlighten -Mr. Casaubon himself. I think it desirable for him to know nothing more -than that he must not overwork himself, and must observe certain rules. -Anxiety of any kind would be precisely the most unfavorable condition -for him. - -Lydgate rose, and Dorothea mechanically rose at the same time, -unclasping her cloak and throwing it off as if it stifled her. He was -bowing and quitting her, when an impulse which if she had been alone -would have turned into a prayer, made her say with a sob in her voice - -Oh, you are a wise man, are you not? You know all about life and -death. Advise me. Think what I can do. He has been laboring all his -life and looking forward. He minds about nothing else. And I mind -about nothing else - -For years after Lydgate remembered the impression produced in him by -this involuntary appealthis cry from soul to soul, without other -consciousness than their moving with kindred natures in the same -embroiled medium, the same troublous fitfully illuminated life. But -what could he say now except that he should see Mr. Casaubon again -to-morrow? - -When he was gone, Dorotheas tears gushed forth, and relieved her -stifling oppression. Then she dried her eyes, reminded that her -distress must not be betrayed to her husband; and looked round the room -thinking that she must order the servant to attend to it as usual, -since Mr. Casaubon might now at any moment wish to enter. On his -writing-table there were letters which had lain untouched since the -morning when he was taken ill, and among them, as Dorothea well -remembered, there were young Ladislaws letters, the one addressed to -her still unopened. The associations of these letters had been made the -more painful by that sudden attack of illness which she felt that the -agitation caused by her anger might have helped to bring on: it would -be time enough to read them when they were again thrust upon her, and -she had had no inclination to fetch them from the library. But now it -occurred to her that they should be put out of her husbands sight: -whatever might have been the sources of his annoyance about them, he -must, if possible, not be annoyed again; and she ran her eyes first -over the letter addressed to him to assure herself whether or not it -would be necessary to write in order to hinder the offensive visit. - -Will wrote from Rome, and began by saying that his obligations to Mr. -Casaubon were too deep for all thanks not to seem impertinent. It was -plain that if he were not grateful, he must be the poorest-spirited -rascal who had ever found a generous friend. To expand in wordy thanks -would be like saying, I am honest. But Will had come to perceive that -his defectsdefects which Mr. Casaubon had himself often pointed -toneeded for their correction that more strenuous position which his -relatives generosity had hitherto prevented from being inevitable. He -trusted that he should make the best return, if return were possible, -by showing the effectiveness of the education for which he was -indebted, and by ceasing in future to need any diversion towards -himself of funds on which others might have a better claim. He was -coming to England, to try his fortune, as many other young men were -obliged to do whose only capital was in their brains. His friend -Naumann had desired him to take charge of the Disputethe picture -painted for Mr. Casaubon, with whose permission, and Mrs. Casaubons, -Will would convey it to Lowick in person. A letter addressed to the -Poste Restante in Paris within the fortnight would hinder him, if -necessary, from arriving at an inconvenient moment. He enclosed a -letter to Mrs. Casaubon in which he continued a discussion about art, -begun with her in Rome. - -Opening her own letter Dorothea saw that it was a lively continuation -of his remonstrance with her fanatical sympathy and her want of sturdy -neutral delight in things as they werean outpouring of his young -vivacity which it was impossible to read just now. She had immediately -to consider what was to be done about the other letter: there was still -time perhaps to prevent Will from coming to Lowick. Dorothea ended by -giving the letter to her uncle, who was still in the house, and begging -him to let Will know that Mr. Casaubon had been ill, and that his -health would not allow the reception of any visitors. - -No one more ready than Mr. Brooke to write a letter: his only -difficulty was to write a short one, and his ideas in this case -expanded over the three large pages and the inward foldings. He had -simply said to Dorothea - -To be sure, I will write, my dear. Hes a very clever young -fellowthis young LadislawI dare say will be a rising young man. Its -a good lettermarks his sense of things, you know. However, I will tell -him about Casaubon. - -But the end of Mr. Brookes pen was a thinking organ, evolving -sentences, especially of a benevolent kind, before the rest of his mind -could well overtake them. It expressed regrets and proposed remedies, -which, when Mr. Brooke read them, seemed felicitously -wordedsurprisingly the right thing, and determined a sequel which he -had never before thought of. In this case, his pen found it such a pity -young Ladislaw should not have come into the neighborhood just at that -time, in order that Mr. Brooke might make his acquaintance more fully, -and that they might go over the long-neglected Italian drawings -togetherit also felt such an interest in a young man who was starting -in life with a stock of ideasthat by the end of the second page it had -persuaded Mr. Brooke to invite young Ladislaw, since he could not be -received at Lowick, to come to Tipton Grange. Why not? They could find -a great many things to do together, and this was a period of peculiar -growththe political horizon was expanding, andin short, Mr. Brookes -pen went off into a little speech which it had lately reported for that -imperfectly edited organ the Middlemarch Pioneer. While Mr. Brooke -was sealing this letter, he felt elated with an influx of dim -projects:a young man capable of putting ideas into form, the Pioneer -purchased to clear the pathway for a new candidate, documents -utilizedwho knew what might come of it all? Since Celia was going to -marry immediately, it would be very pleasant to have a young fellow at -table with him, at least for a time. - -But he went away without telling Dorothea what he had put into the -letter, for she was engaged with her husband, andin fact, these things -were of no importance to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -How will you know the pitch of that great bell -Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute -Play neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close -Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill: -Then shall the huge bell tremblethen the mass -With myriad waves concurrent shall respond -In low soft unison. - - -Lydgate that evening spoke to Miss Vincy of Mrs. Casaubon, and laid -some emphasis on the strong feeling she appeared to have for that -formal studious man thirty years older than herself. - -Of course she is devoted to her husband, said Rosamond, implying a -notion of necessary sequence which the scientific man regarded as the -prettiest possible for a woman; but she was thinking at the same time -that it was not so very melancholy to be mistress of Lowick Manor with -a husband likely to die soon. Do you think her very handsome? - -She certainly is handsome, but I have not thought about it, said -Lydgate. - -I suppose it would be unprofessional, said Rosamond, dimpling. But -how your practice is spreading! You were called in before to the -Chettams, I think; and now, the Casaubons. - -Yes, said Lydgate, in a tone of compulsory admission. But I dont -really like attending such people so well as the poor. The cases are -more monotonous, and one has to go through more fuss and listen more -deferentially to nonsense. - -Not more than in Middlemarch, said Rosamond. And at least you go -through wide corridors and have the scent of rose-leaves everywhere. - -That is true, Mademoiselle de Montmorenci, said Lydgate, just bending -his head to the table and lifting with his fourth finger her delicate -handkerchief which lay at the mouth of her reticule, as if to enjoy its -scent, while he looked at her with a smile. - -But this agreeable holiday freedom with which Lydgate hovered about the -flower of Middlemarch, could not continue indefinitely. It was not more -possible to find social isolation in that town than elsewhere, and two -people persistently flirting could by no means escape from the various -entanglements, weights, blows, clashings, motions, by which things -severally go on. Whatever Miss Vincy did must be remarked, and she was -perhaps the more conspicuous to admirers and critics because just now -Mrs. Vincy, after some struggle, had gone with Fred to stay a little -while at Stone Court, there being no other way of at once gratifying -old Featherstone and keeping watch against Mary Garth, who appeared a -less tolerable daughter-in-law in proportion as Freds illness -disappeared. - -Aunt Bulstrode, for example, came a little oftener into Lowick Gate to -see Rosamond, now she was alone. For Mrs. Bulstrode had a true sisterly -feeling for her brother; always thinking that he might have married -better, but wishing well to the children. Now Mrs. Bulstrode had a -long-standing intimacy with Mrs. Plymdale. They had nearly the same -preferences in silks, patterns for underclothing, china-ware, and -clergymen; they confided their little troubles of health and household -management to each other, and various little points of superiority on -Mrs. Bulstrodes side, namely, more decided seriousness, more -admiration for mind, and a house outside the town, sometimes served to -give color to their conversation without dividing themwell-meaning -women both, knowing very little of their own motives. - -Mrs. Bulstrode, paying a morning visit to Mrs. Plymdale, happened to -say that she could not stay longer, because she was going to see poor -Rosamond. - -Why do you say poor Rosamond? said Mrs. Plymdale, a round-eyed -sharp little woman, like a tamed falcon. - -She is so pretty, and has been brought up in such thoughtlessness. The -mother, you know, had always that levity about her, which makes me -anxious for the children. - -Well, Harriet, if I am to speak my mind, said Mrs. Plymdale, with -emphasis, I must say, anybody would suppose you and Mr. Bulstrode -would be delighted with what has happened, for you have done everything -to put Mr. Lydgate forward. - -Selina, what do you mean? said Mrs. Bulstrode, in genuine surprise. - -Not but what I am truly thankful for Neds sake, said Mrs. Plymdale. -He could certainly better afford to keep such a wife than some people -can; but I should wish him to look elsewhere. Still a mother has -anxieties, and some young men would take to a bad life in consequence. -Besides, if I was obliged to speak, I should say I was not fond of -strangers coming into a town. - -I dont know, Selina, said Mrs. Bulstrode, with a little emphasis in -her turn. Mr. Bulstrode was a stranger here at one time. Abraham and -Moses were strangers in the land, and we are told to entertain -strangers. And especially, she added, after a slight pause, when they -are unexceptionable. - -I was not speaking in a religious sense, Harriet. I spoke as a -mother. - -Selina, I am sure you have never heard me say anything against a niece -of mine marrying your son. - -Oh, it is pride in Miss VincyI am sure it is nothing else, said Mrs. -Plymdale, who had never before given all her confidence to Harriet on -this subject. No young man in Middlemarch was good enough for her: I -have heard her mother say as much. That is not a Christian spirit, I -think. But now, from all I hear, she has found a man as proud as -herself. - -You dont mean that there is anything between Rosamond and Mr. -Lydgate? said Mrs. Bulstrode, rather mortified at finding out her own -ignorance. - -Is it possible you dont know, Harriet? - -Oh, I go about so little; and I am not fond of gossip; I really never -hear any. You see so many people that I dont see. Your circle is -rather different from ours. - -Well, but your own niece and Mr. Bulstrodes great favoriteand yours -too, I am sure, Harriet! I thought, at one time, you meant him for -Kate, when she is a little older. - -I dont believe there can be anything serious at present, said Mrs. -Bulstrode. My brother would certainly have told me. - -Well, people have different ways, but I understand that nobody can see -Miss Vincy and Mr. Lydgate together without taking them to be engaged. -However, it is not my business. Shall I put up the pattern of mittens? - -After this Mrs. Bulstrode drove to her niece with a mind newly -weighted. She was herself handsomely dressed, but she noticed with a -little more regret than usual that Rosamond, who was just come in and -met her in walking-dress, was almost as expensively equipped. Mrs. -Bulstrode was a feminine smaller edition of her brother, and had none -of her husbands low-toned pallor. She had a good honest glance and -used no circumlocution. - -You are alone, I see, my dear, she said, as they entered the -drawing-room together, looking round gravely. Rosamond felt sure that -her aunt had something particular to say, and they sat down near each -other. Nevertheless, the quilling inside Rosamonds bonnet was so -charming that it was impossible not to desire the same kind of thing -for Kate, and Mrs. Bulstrodes eyes, which were rather fine, rolled -round that ample quilled circuit, while she spoke. - -I have just heard something about you that has surprised me very much, -Rosamond. - -What is that, aunt? Rosamonds eyes also were roaming over her aunts -large embroidered collar. - -I can hardly believe itthat you should be engaged without my knowing -itwithout your fathers telling me. Here Mrs. Bulstrodes eyes -finally rested on Rosamonds, who blushed deeply, and said - -I am not engaged, aunt. - -How is it that every one says so, thenthat it is the towns talk? - -The towns talk is of very little consequence, I think, said -Rosamond, inwardly gratified. - -Oh, my dear, be more thoughtful; dont despise your neighbors so. -Remember you are turned twenty-two now, and you will have no fortune: -your father, I am sure, will not be able to spare you anything. Mr. -Lydgate is very intellectual and clever; I know there is an attraction -in that. I like talking to such men myself; and your uncle finds him -very useful. But the profession is a poor one here. To be sure, this -life is not everything; but it is seldom a medical man has true -religious viewsthere is too much pride of intellect. And you are not -fit to marry a poor man. - -Mr. Lydgate is not a poor man, aunt. He has very high connections. - -He told me himself he was poor. - -That is because he is used to people who have a high style of living. - -My dear Rosamond, _you_ must not think of living in high style. - -Rosamond looked down and played with her reticule. She was not a fiery -young lady and had no sharp answers, but she meant to live as she -pleased. - -Then it is really true? said Mrs. Bulstrode, looking very earnestly -at her niece. You are thinking of Mr. Lydgatethere is some -understanding between you, though your father doesnt know. Be open, my -dear Rosamond: Mr. Lydgate has really made you an offer? - -Poor Rosamonds feelings were very unpleasant. She had been quite easy -as to Lydgates feeling and intention, but now when her aunt put this -question she did not like being unable to say Yes. Her pride was hurt, -but her habitual control of manner helped her. - -Pray excuse me, aunt. I would rather not speak on the subject. - -You would not give your heart to a man without a decided prospect, I -trust, my dear. And think of the two excellent offers I know of that -you have refused!and one still within your reach, if you will not -throw it away. I knew a very great beauty who married badly at last, by -doing so. Mr. Ned Plymdale is a nice young mansome might think -good-looking; and an only son; and a large business of that kind is -better than a profession. Not that marrying is everything. I would have -you seek first the kingdom of God. But a girl should keep her heart -within her own power. - -I should never give it to Mr. Ned Plymdale, if it were. I have already -refused him. If I loved, I should love at once and without change, -said Rosamond, with a great sense of being a romantic heroine, and -playing the part prettily. - -I see how it is, my dear, said Mrs. Bulstrode, in a melancholy voice, -rising to go. You have allowed your affections to be engaged without -return. - -No, indeed, aunt, said Rosamond, with emphasis. - -Then you are quite confident that Mr. Lydgate has a serious attachment -to you? - -Rosamonds cheeks by this time were persistently burning, and she felt -much mortification. She chose to be silent, and her aunt went away all -the more convinced. - -Mr. Bulstrode in things worldly and indifferent was disposed to do what -his wife bade him, and she now, without telling her reasons, desired -him on the next opportunity to find out in conversation with Mr. -Lydgate whether he had any intention of marrying soon. The result was a -decided negative. Mr. Bulstrode, on being cross-questioned, showed that -Lydgate had spoken as no man would who had any attachment that could -issue in matrimony. Mrs. Bulstrode now felt that she had a serious duty -before her, and she soon managed to arrange a _tte--tte_ with -Lydgate, in which she passed from inquiries about Fred Vincys health, -and expressions of her sincere anxiety for her brothers large family, -to general remarks on the dangers which lay before young people with -regard to their settlement in life. Young men were often wild and -disappointing, making little return for the money spent on them, and a -girl was exposed to many circumstances which might interfere with her -prospects. - -Especially when she has great attractions, and her parents see much -company, said Mrs. Bulstrode. Gentlemen pay her attention, and -engross her all to themselves, for the mere pleasure of the moment, and -that drives off others. I think it is a heavy responsibility, Mr. -Lydgate, to interfere with the prospects of any girl. Here Mrs. -Bulstrode fixed her eyes on him, with an unmistakable purpose of -warning, if not of rebuke. - -Clearly, said Lydgate, looking at herperhaps even staring a little -in return. On the other hand, a man must be a great coxcomb to go -about with a notion that he must not pay attention to a young lady lest -she should fall in love with him, or lest others should think she -must. - -Oh, Mr. Lydgate, you know well what your advantages are. You know that -our young men here cannot cope with you. Where you frequent a house it -may militate very much against a girls making a desirable settlement -in life, and prevent her from accepting offers even if they are made. - -Lydgate was less flattered by his advantage over the Middlemarch -Orlandos than he was annoyed by the perception of Mrs. Bulstrodes -meaning. She felt that she had spoken as impressively as it was -necessary to do, and that in using the superior word militate she had -thrown a noble drapery over a mass of particulars which were still -evident enough. - -Lydgate was fuming a little, pushed his hair back with one hand, felt -curiously in his waistcoat-pocket with the other, and then stooped to -beckon the tiny black spaniel, which had the insight to decline his -hollow caresses. It would not have been decent to go away, because he -had been dining with other guests, and had just taken tea. But Mrs. -Bulstrode, having no doubt that she had been understood, turned the -conversation. - -Solomons Proverbs, I think, have omitted to say, that as the sore -palate findeth grit, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes. The -next day Mr. Farebrother, parting from Lydgate in the street, supposed -that they should meet at Vincys in the evening. Lydgate answered -curtly, nohe had work to dohe must give up going out in the evening. - -What! you are going to get lashed to the mast, eh, and are stopping -your ears? said the Vicar. Well, if you dont mean to be won by the -sirens, you are right to take precautions in time. - -A few days before, Lydgate would have taken no notice of these words as -anything more than the Vicars usual way of putting things. They seemed -now to convey an innuendo which confirmed the impression that he had -been making a fool of himself and behaving so as to be misunderstood: -not, he believed, by Rosamond herself; she, he felt sure, took -everything as lightly as he intended it. She had an exquisite tact and -insight in relation to all points of manners; but the people she lived -among were blunderers and busybodies. However, the mistake should go no -farther. He resolvedand kept his resolutionthat he would not go to -Mr. Vincys except on business. - -Rosamond became very unhappy. The uneasiness first stirred by her -aunts questions grew and grew till at the end of ten days that she had -not seen Lydgate, it grew into terror at the blank that might possibly -comeinto foreboding of that ready, fatal sponge which so cheaply wipes -out the hopes of mortals. The world would have a new dreariness for -her, as a wilderness that a magicians spells had turned for a little -while into a garden. She felt that she was beginning to know the pang -of disappointed love, and that no other man could be the occasion of -such delightful aerial building as she had been enjoying for the last -six months. Poor Rosamond lost her appetite and felt as forlorn as -Ariadneas a charming stage Ariadne left behind with all her boxes full -of costumes and no hope of a coach. - -There are many wonderful mixtures in the world which are all alike -called love, and claim the privileges of a sublime rage which is an -apology for everything (in literature and the drama). Happily Rosamond -did not think of committing any desperate act: she plaited her fair -hair as beautifully as usual, and kept herself proudly calm. Her most -cheerful supposition was that her aunt Bulstrode had interfered in some -way to hinder Lydgates visits: everything was better than a -spontaneous indifference in him. Any one who imagines ten days too -short a timenot for falling into leanness, lightness, or other -measurable effects of passion, butfor the whole spiritual circuit of -alarmed conjecture and disappointment, is ignorant of what can go on in -the elegant leisure of a young ladys mind. - -On the eleventh day, however, Lydgate when leaving Stone Court was -requested by Mrs. Vincy to let her husband know that there was a marked -change in Mr. Featherstones health, and that she wished him to come to -Stone Court on that day. Now Lydgate might have called at the -warehouse, or might have written a message on a leaf of his pocket-book -and left it at the door. Yet these simple devices apparently did not -occur to him, from which we may conclude that he had no strong -objection to calling at the house at an hour when Mr. Vincy was not at -home, and leaving the message with Miss Vincy. A man may, from various -motives, decline to give his company, but perhaps not even a sage would -be gratified that nobody missed him. It would be a graceful, easy way -of piecing on the new habits to the old, to have a few playful words -with Rosamond about his resistance to dissipation, and his firm resolve -to take long fasts even from sweet sounds. It must be confessed, also, -that momentary speculations as to all the possible grounds for Mrs. -Bulstrodes hints had managed to get woven like slight clinging hairs -into the more substantial web of his thoughts. - -Miss Vincy was alone, and blushed so deeply when Lydgate came in that -he felt a corresponding embarrassment, and instead of any playfulness, -he began at once to speak of his reason for calling, and to beg her, -almost formally, to deliver the message to her father. Rosamond, who at -the first moment felt as if her happiness were returning, was keenly -hurt by Lydgates manner; her blush had departed, and she assented -coldly, without adding an unnecessary word, some trivial chain-work -which she had in her hands enabling her to avoid looking at Lydgate -higher than his chin. In all failures, the beginning is certainly the -half of the whole. After sitting two long moments while he moved his -whip and could say nothing, Lydgate rose to go, and Rosamond, made -nervous by her struggle between mortification and the wish not to -betray it, dropped her chain as if startled, and rose too, -mechanically. Lydgate instantaneously stooped to pick up the chain. -When he rose he was very near to a lovely little face set on a fair -long neck which he had been used to see turning about under the most -perfect management of self-contented grace. But as he raised his eyes -now he saw a certain helpless quivering which touched him quite newly, -and made him look at Rosamond with a questioning flash. At this moment -she was as natural as she had ever been when she was five years old: -she felt that her tears had risen, and it was no use to try to do -anything else than let them stay like water on a blue flower or let -them fall over her cheeks, even as they would. - -That moment of naturalness was the crystallizing feather-touch: it -shook flirtation into love. Remember that the ambitious man who was -looking at those Forget-me-nots under the water was very warm-hearted -and rash. He did not know where the chain went; an idea had thrilled -through the recesses within him which had a miraculous effect in -raising the power of passionate love lying buried there in no sealed -sepulchre, but under the lightest, easily pierced mould. His words were -quite abrupt and awkward; but the tone made them sound like an ardent, -appealing avowal. - -What is the matter? you are distressed. Tell me, pray. - -Rosamond had never been spoken to in such tones before. I am not sure -that she knew what the words were: but she looked at Lydgate and the -tears fell over her cheeks. There could have been no more complete -answer than that silence, and Lydgate, forgetting everything else, -completely mastered by the outrush of tenderness at the sudden belief -that this sweet young creature depended on him for her joy, actually -put his arms round her, folding her gently and protectinglyhe was used -to being gentle with the weak and sufferingand kissed each of the two -large tears. This was a strange way of arriving at an understanding, -but it was a short way. Rosamond was not angry, but she moved backward -a little in timid happiness, and Lydgate could now sit near her and -speak less incompletely. Rosamond had to make her little confession, -and he poured out words of gratitude and tenderness with impulsive -lavishment. In half an hour he left the house an engaged man, whose -soul was not his own, but the womans to whom he had bound himself. - -He came again in the evening to speak with Mr. Vincy, who, just -returned from Stone Court, was feeling sure that it would not be long -before he heard of Mr. Featherstones demise. The felicitous word -demise, which had seasonably occurred to him, had raised his spirits -even above their usual evening pitch. The right word is always a power, -and communicates its definiteness to our action. Considered as a -demise, old Featherstones death assumed a merely legal aspect, so that -Mr. Vincy could tap his snuff-box over it and be jovial, without even -an intermittent affectation of solemnity; and Mr. Vincy hated both -solemnity and affectation. Who was ever awe struck about a testator, or -sang a hymn on the title to real property? Mr. Vincy was inclined to -take a jovial view of all things that evening: he even observed to -Lydgate that Fred had got the family constitution after all, and would -soon be as fine a fellow as ever again; and when his approbation of -Rosamonds engagement was asked for, he gave it with astonishing -facility, passing at once to general remarks on the desirableness of -matrimony for young men and maidens, and apparently deducing from the -whole the appropriateness of a little more punch. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -Theyll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. -SHAKESPEARE: _Tempest_. - - -The triumphant confidence of the Mayor founded on Mr. Featherstones -insistent demand that Fred and his mother should not leave him, was a -feeble emotion compared with all that was agitating the breasts of the -old mans blood-relations, who naturally manifested more their sense of -the family tie and were more visibly numerous now that he had become -bedridden. Naturally: for when poor Peter had occupied his arm-chair -in the wainscoted parlor, no assiduous beetles for whom the cook -prepares boiling water could have been less welcome on a hearth which -they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone -blood was ill-nourished, not from penuriousness on their part, but from -poverty. Brother Solomon and Sister Jane were rich, and the family -candor and total abstinence from false politeness with which they were -always received seemed to them no argument that their brother in the -solemn act of making his will would overlook the superior claims of -wealth. Themselves at least he had never been unnatural enough to -banish from his house, and it seemed hardly eccentric that he should -have kept away Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and the rest, who had no -shadow of such claims. They knew Peters maxim, that money was a good -egg, and should be laid in a warm nest. - -But Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and all the needy exiles, held a -different point of view. Probabilities are as various as the faces to -be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form is there, -from Jupiter to Judy, if you only look with creative inclination. To -the poorer and least favored it seemed likely that since Peter had done -nothing for them in his life, he would remember them at the last. Jonah -argued that men liked to make a surprise of their wills, while Martha -said that nobody need be surprised if he left the best part of his -money to those who least expected it. Also it was not to be thought but -that an own brother lying there with dropsy in his legs must come to -feel that blood was thicker than water, and if he didnt alter his -will, he might have money by him. At any rate some blood-relations -should be on the premises and on the watch against those who were -hardly relations at all. Such things had been known as forged wills and -disputed wills, which seemed to have the golden-hazy advantage of -somehow enabling non-legatees to live out of them. Again, those who -were no blood-relations might be caught making away with thingsand -poor Peter lying there helpless! Somebody should be on the watch. But -in this conclusion they were at one with Solomon and Jane; also, some -nephews, nieces, and cousins, arguing with still greater subtilty as to -what might be done by a man able to will away his property and give -himself large treats of oddity, felt in a handsome sort of way that -there was a family interest to be attended to, and thought of Stone -Court as a place which it would be nothing but right for them to visit. -Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Cranch, living with some wheeziness in -the Chalky Flats, could not undertake the journey; but her son, as -being poor Peters own nephew, could represent her advantageously, and -watch lest his uncle Jonah should make an unfair use of the improbable -things which seemed likely to happen. In fact there was a general sense -running in the Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody -else, and that it would be well for everybody else to reflect that the -Almighty was watching him. - -Thus Stone Court continually saw one or other blood-relation alighting -or departing, and Mary Garth had the unpleasant task of carrying their -messages to Mr. Featherstone, who would see none of them, and sent her -down with the still more unpleasant task of telling them so. As manager -of the household she felt bound to ask them in good provincial fashion -to stay and eat; but she chose to consult Mrs. Vincy on the point of -extra down-stairs consumption now that Mr. Featherstone was laid up. - -Oh, my dear, you must do things handsomely where theres last illness -and a property. God knows, I dont grudge them every ham in the -houseonly, save the best for the funeral. Have some stuffed veal -always, and a fine cheese in cut. You must expect to keep open house in -these last illnesses, said liberal Mrs. Vincy, once more of cheerful -note and bright plumage. - -But some of the visitors alighted and did not depart after the handsome -treating to veal and ham. Brother Jonah, for example (there are such -unpleasant people in most families; perhaps even in the highest -aristocracy there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and -bloated at greater expense)Brother Jonah, I say, having come down in -the world, was mainly supported by a calling which he was modest enough -not to boast of, though it was much better than swindling either on -exchange or turf, but which did not require his presence at Brassing so -long as he had a good corner to sit in and a supply of food. He chose -the kitchen-corner, partly because he liked it best, and partly because -he did not want to sit with Solomon, concerning whom he had a strong -brotherly opinion. Seated in a famous arm-chair and in his best suit, -constantly within sight of good cheer, he had a comfortable -consciousness of being on the premises, mingled with fleeting -suggestions of Sunday and the bar at the Green Man; and he informed -Mary Garth that he should not go out of reach of his brother Peter -while that poor fellow was above ground. The troublesome ones in a -family are usually either the wits or the idiots. Jonah was the wit -among the Featherstones, and joked with the maid-servants when they -came about the hearth, but seemed to consider Miss Garth a suspicious -character, and followed her with cold eyes. - -Mary would have borne this one pair of eyes with comparative ease, but -unfortunately there was young Cranch, who, having come all the way from -the Chalky Flats to represent his mother and watch his uncle Jonah, -also felt it his duty to stay and to sit chiefly in the kitchen to give -his uncle company. Young Cranch was not exactly the balancing point -between the wit and the idiot,verging slightly towards the latter -type, and squinting so as to leave everything in doubt about his -sentiments except that they were not of a forcible character. When Mary -Garth entered the kitchen and Mr. Jonah Featherstone began to follow -her with his cold detective eyes, young Cranch turning his head in the -same direction seemed to insist on it that she should remark how he was -squinting, as if he did it with design, like the gypsies when Borrow -read the New Testament to them. This was rather too much for poor Mary; -sometimes it made her bilious, sometimes it upset her gravity. One day -that she had an opportunity she could not resist describing the kitchen -scene to Fred, who would not be hindered from immediately going to see -it, affecting simply to pass through. But no sooner did he face the -four eyes than he had to rush through the nearest door which happened -to lead to the dairy, and there under the high roof and among the pans -he gave way to laughter which made a hollow resonance perfectly audible -in the kitchen. He fled by another doorway, but Mr. Jonah, who had not -before seen Freds white complexion, long legs, and pinched delicacy of -face, prepared many sarcasms in which these points of appearance were -wittily combined with the lowest moral attributes. - -Why, Tom, _you_ dont wear such gentlemanly trousersyou havent got -half such fine long legs, said Jonah to his nephew, winking at the -same time, to imply that there was something more in these statements -than their undeniableness. Tom looked at his legs, but left it -uncertain whether he preferred his moral advantages to a more vicious -length of limb and reprehensible gentility of trouser. - -In the large wainscoted parlor too there were constantly pairs of eyes -on the watch, and own relatives eager to be sitters-up. Many came, -lunched, and departed, but Brother Solomon and the lady who had been -Jane Featherstone for twenty-five years before she was Mrs. Waule found -it good to be there every day for hours, without other calculable -occupation than that of observing the cunning Mary Garth (who was so -deep that she could be found out in nothing) and giving occasional dry -wrinkly indications of cryingas if capable of torrents in a wetter -seasonat the thought that they were not allowed to go into Mr. -Featherstones room. For the old mans dislike of his own family seemed -to get stronger as he got less able to amuse himself by saying biting -things to them. Too languid to sting, he had the more venom refluent in -his blood. - -Not fully believing the message sent through Mary Garth, they had -presented themselves together within the door of the bedroom, both in -blackMrs. Waule having a white handkerchief partially unfolded in her -handand both with faces in a sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs. -Vincy with her pink cheeks and pink ribbons flying was actually -administering a cordial to their own brother, and the -light-complexioned Fred, his short hair curling as might be expected in -a gamblers, was lolling at his ease in a large chair. - -Old Featherstone no sooner caught sight of these funereal figures -appearing in spite of his orders than rage came to strengthen him more -successfully than the cordial. He was propped up on a bed-rest, and -always had his gold-headed stick lying by him. He seized it now and -swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he could, -apparently to ban these ugly spectres, crying in a hoarse sort of -screech - -Back, back, Mrs. Waule! Back, Solomon! - -Oh, Brother. Peter, Mrs. Waule beganbut Solomon put his hand before -her repressingly. He was a large-cheeked man, nearly seventy, with -small furtive eyes, and was not only of much blander temper but thought -himself much deeper than his brother Peter; indeed not likely to be -deceived in any of his fellow-men, inasmuch as they could not well be -more greedy and deceitful than he suspected them of being. Even the -invisible powers, he thought, were likely to be soothed by a bland -parenthesis here and therecoming from a man of property, who might -have been as impious as others. - -Brother Peter, he said, in a wheedling yet gravely official tone, -Its nothing but right I should speak to you about the Three Crofts -and the Manganese. The Almighty knows what Ive got on my mind - -Then he knows more than I want to know, said Peter, laying down his -stick with a show of truce which had a threat in it too, for he -reversed the stick so as to make the gold handle a club in case of -closer fighting, and looked hard at Solomons bald head. - -Theres things you might repent of, Brother, for want of speaking to -me, said Solomon, not advancing, however. I could sit up with you -to-night, and Jane with me, willingly, and you might take your own time -to speak, or let me speak. - -Yes, I shall take my own timeyou neednt offer me yours, said Peter. - -But you cant take your own time to die in, Brother, began Mrs. -Waule, with her usual woolly tone. And when you lie speechless you may -be tired of having strangers about you, and you may think of me and my -childrenbut here her voice broke under the touching thought which she -was attributing to her speechless brother; the mention of ourselves -being naturally affecting. - -No, I shant, said old Featherstone, contradictiously. I shant -think of any of you. Ive made my will, I tell you, Ive made my will. -Here he turned his head towards Mrs. Vincy, and swallowed some more of -his cordial. - -Some people would be ashamed to fill up a place belonging by rights to -others, said Mrs. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the same -direction. - -Oh, sister, said Solomon, with ironical softness, you and me are not -fine, and handsome, and clever enough: we must be humble and let smart -people push themselves before us. - -Freds spirit could not bear this: rising and looking at Mr. -Featherstone, he said, Shall my mother and I leave the room, sir, that -you may be alone with your friends? - -Sit down, I tell you, said old Featherstone, snappishly. Stop where -you are. Good-by, Solomon, he added, trying to wield his stick again, -but failing now that he had reversed the handle. Good-by, Mrs. Waule. -Dont you come again. - -I shall be down-stairs, Brother, whether or no, said Solomon. I -shall do my duty, and it remains to be seen what the Almighty will -allow. - -Yes, in property going out of families, said Mrs. Waule, in -continuation,and where theres steady young men to carry on. But I -pity them who are not such, and I pity their mothers. Good-by, Brother -Peter. - -Remember, Im the eldest after you, Brother, and prospered from the -first, just as you did, and have got land already by the name of -Featherstone, said Solomon, relying much on that reflection, as one -which might be suggested in the watches of the night. But I bid you -good-by for the present. - -Their exit was hastened by their seeing old Mr. Featherstone pull his -wig on each side and shut his eyes with his mouth-widening grimace, as -if he were determined to be deaf and blind. - -None the less they came to Stone Court daily and sat below at the post -of duty, sometimes carrying on a slow dialogue in an undertone in which -the observation and response were so far apart, that any one hearing -them might have imagined himself listening to speaking automata, in -some doubt whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, or wind -itself up for a long time in order to stick and be silent. Solomon and -Jane would have been sorry to be quick: what that led to might be seen -on the other side of the wall in the person of Brother Jonah. - -But their watch in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the -presence of other guests from far or near. Now that Peter Featherstone -was up-stairs, his property could be discussed with all that local -enlightenment to be found on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch -neighbors expressed much agreement with the family and sympathy with -their interest against the Vincys, and feminine visitors were even -moved to tears, in conversation with Mrs. Waule, when they recalled the -fact that they themselves had been disappointed in times past by -codicils and marriages for spite on the part of ungrateful elderly -gentlemen, who, it might have been supposed, had been spared for -something better. Such conversation paused suddenly, like an organ when -the bellows are let drop, if Mary Garth came into the room; and all -eyes were turned on her as a possible legatee, or one who might get -access to iron chests. - -But the younger men who were relatives or connections of the family, -were disposed to admire her in this problematic light, as a girl who -showed much conduct, and who among all the chances that were flying -might turn out to be at least a moderate prize. Hence she had her share -of compliments and polite attentions. - -Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, a distinguished bachelor and -auctioneer of those parts, much concerned in the sale of land and -cattle: a public character, indeed, whose name was seen on widely -distributed placards, and who might reasonably be sorry for those who -did not know of him. He was second cousin to Peter Featherstone, and -had been treated by him with more amenity than any other relative, -being useful in matters of business; and in that programme of his -funeral which the old man had himself dictated, he had been named as a -Bearer. There was no odious cupidity in Mr. Borthrop Trumbullnothing -more than a sincere sense of his own merit, which, he was aware, in -case of rivalry might tell against competitors; so that if Peter -Featherstone, who so far as he, Trumbull, was concerned, had behaved -like as good a soul as ever breathed, should have done anything -handsome by him, all he could say was, that he had never fished and -fawned, but had advised him to the best of his experience, which now -extended over twenty years from the time of his apprenticeship at -fifteen, and was likely to yield a knowledge of no surreptitious kind. -His admiration was far from being confined to himself, but was -accustomed professionally as well as privately to delight in estimating -things at a high rate. He was an amateur of superior phrases, and never -used poor language without immediately correcting himselfwhich was -fortunate, as he was rather loud, and given to predominate, standing or -walking about frequently, pulling down his waistcoat with the air of a -man who is very much of his own opinion, trimming himself rapidly with -his fore-finger, and marking each new series in these movements by a -busy play with his large seals. There was occasionally a little -fierceness in his demeanor, but it was directed chiefly against false -opinion, of which there is so much to correct in the world that a man -of some reading and experience necessarily has his patience tried. He -felt that the Featherstone family generally was of limited -understanding, but being a man of the world and a public character, -took everything as a matter of course, and even went to converse with -Mr. Jonah and young Cranch in the kitchen, not doubting that he had -impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the -Chalky Flats. If anybody had observed that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, being -an auctioneer, was bound to know the nature of everything, he would -have smiled and trimmed himself silently with the sense that he came -pretty near that. On the whole, in an auctioneering way, he was an -honorable man, not ashamed of his business, and feeling that the -celebrated Peel, now Sir Robert, if introduced to him, would not fail -to recognize his importance. - -I dont mind if I have a slice of that ham, and a glass of that ale, -Miss Garth, if you will allow me, he said, coming into the parlor at -half-past eleven, after having had the exceptional privilege of seeing -old Featherstone, and standing with his back to the fire between Mrs. -Waule and Solomon. - -Its not necessary for you to go out;let me ring the bell. - -Thank you, said Mary, I have an errand. - -Well, Mr. Trumbull, youre highly favored, said Mrs. Waule. - -What! seeing the old man? said the auctioneer, playing with his seals -dispassionately. Ah, you see he has relied on me considerably. Here -he pressed his lips together, and frowned meditatively. - -Might anybody ask what their brother has been saying? said Solomon, -in a soft tone of humility, in which he had a sense of luxurious -cunning, he being a rich man and not in need of it. - -Oh yes, anybody may ask, said Mr. Trumbull, with loud and -good-humored though cutting sarcasm. Anybody may interrogate. Any one -may give their remarks an interrogative turn, he continued, his -sonorousness rising with his style. This is constantly done by good -speakers, even when they anticipate no answer. It is what we call a -figure of speechspeech at a high figure, as one may say. The eloquent -auctioneer smiled at his own ingenuity. - -I shouldnt be sorry to hear hed remembered you, Mr. Trumbull, said -Solomon. I never was against the deserving. Its the undeserving Im -against. - -Ah, there it is, you see, there it is, said Mr. Trumbull, -significantly. It cant be denied that undeserving people have been -legatees, and even residuary legatees. It is so, with testamentary -dispositions. Again he pursed up his lips and frowned a little. - -Do you mean to say for certain, Mr. Trumbull, that my brother has left -his land away from our family? said Mrs. Waule, on whom, as an -unhopeful woman, those long words had a depressing effect. - -A man might as well turn his land into charity land at once as leave -it to some people, observed Solomon, his sisters question having -drawn no answer. - -What, Blue-Coat land? said Mrs. Waule, again. Oh, Mr. Trumbull, you -never can mean to say that. It would be flying in the face of the -Almighty thats prospered him. - -While Mrs. Waule was speaking, Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from -the fireplace towards the window, patrolling with his fore-finger round -the inside of his stock, then along his whiskers and the curves of his -hair. He now walked to Miss Garths work-table, opened a book which lay -there and read the title aloud with pompous emphasis as if he were -offering it for sale: - -Anne of Geierstein (pronounced Jeersteen) or the Maiden of the -Mist, by the author of Waverley. Then turning the page, he began -sonorouslyThe course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since -the series of events which are related in the following chapters took -place on the Continent. He pronounced the last truly admirable word -with the accent on the last syllable, not as unaware of vulgar usage, -but feeling that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which -his reading had given to the whole. - -And now the servant came in with the tray, so that the moments for -answering Mrs. Waules question had gone by safely, while she and -Solomon, watching Mr. Trumbulls movements, were thinking that high -learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Mr. Borthrop Trumbull -really knew nothing about old Featherstones will; but he could hardly -have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been arrested -for misprision of treason. - -I shall take a mere mouthful of ham and a glass of ale, he said, -reassuringly. As a man with public business, I take a snack when I -can. I will back this ham, he added, after swallowing some morsels -with alarming haste, against any ham in the three kingdoms. In my -opinion it is better than the hams at Freshitt Halland I think I am a -tolerable judge. - -Some dont like so much sugar in their hams, said Mrs. Waule. But my -poor brother would always have sugar. - -If any person demands better, he is at liberty to do so; but, God -bless me, what an aroma! I should be glad to buy in that quality, I -know. There is some gratification to a gentlemanhere Mr. Trumbulls -voice conveyed an emotional remonstrancein having this kind of ham -set on his table. - -He pushed aside his plate, poured out his glass of ale and drew his -chair a little forward, profiting by the occasion to look at the inner -side of his legs, which he stroked approvinglyMr. Trumbull having all -those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the -predominant races of the north. - -You have an interesting work there, I see, Miss Garth, he observed, -when Mary re-entered. It is by the author of Waverley: that is Sir -Walter Scott. I have bought one of his works myselfa very nice thing, -a very superior publication, entitled Ivanhoe. You will not get any -writer to beat him in a hurry, I thinkhe will not, in my opinion, be -speedily surpassed. I have just been reading a portion at the -commencement of Anne of Jeersteen. It commences well. (Things never -began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they always commenced, both in -private life and on his handbills.) You are a reader, I see. Do you -subscribe to our Middlemarch library? - -No, said Mary. Mr. Fred Vincy brought this book. - -I am a great bookman myself, returned Mr. Trumbull. I have no less -than two hundred volumes in calf, and I flatter myself they are well -selected. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, -and others. I shall be happy to lend you any work you like to mention, -Miss Garth. - -I am much obliged, said Mary, hastening away again, but I have -little time for reading. - -I should say my brother has done something for _her_ in his will, -said Mr. Solomon, in a very low undertone, when she had shut the door -behind her, pointing with his head towards the absent Mary. - -His first wife was a poor match for him, though, said Mrs. Waule. -She brought him nothing: and this young woman is only her niece,and -very proud. And my brother has always paid her wage. - -A sensible girl though, in my opinion, said Mr. Trumbull, finishing -his ale and starting up with an emphatic adjustment of his waistcoat. -I have observed her when she has been mixing medicine in drops. She -minds what she is doing, sir. That is a great point in a woman, and a -great point for our friend up-stairs, poor dear old soul. A man whose -life is of any value should think of his wife as a nurse: that is what -I should do, if I married; and I believe I have lived single long -enough not to make a mistake in that line. Some men must marry to -elevate themselves a little, but when I am in need of that, I hope some -one will tell me soI hope some individual will apprise me of the fact. -I wish you good morning, Mrs. Waule. Good morning, Mr. Solomon. I trust -we shall meet under less melancholy auspices. - -When Mr. Trumbull had departed with a fine bow, Solomon, leaning -forward, observed to his sister, You may depend, Jane, my brother has -left that girl a lumping sum. - -Anybody would think so, from the way Mr. Trumbull talks, said Jane. -Then, after a pause, He talks as if my daughters wasnt to be trusted -to give drops. - -Auctioneers talk wild, said Solomon. Not but what Trumbull has made -money. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close; -And let us all to meditation. -2 _Henry VI_. - - -That night after twelve oclock Mary Garth relieved the watch in Mr. -Featherstones room, and sat there alone through the small hours. She -often chose this task, in which she found some pleasure, -notwithstanding the old mans testiness whenever he demanded her -attentions. There were intervals in which she could sit perfectly -still, enjoying the outer stillness and the subdued light. The red fire -with its gently audible movement seemed like a solemn existence calmly -independent of the petty passions, the imbecile desires, the straining -after worthless uncertainties, which were daily moving her contempt. -Mary was fond of her own thoughts, and could amuse herself well sitting -in twilight with her hands in her lap; for, having early had strong -reason to believe that things were not likely to be arranged for her -peculiar satisfaction, she wasted no time in astonishment and annoyance -at that fact. And she had already come to take life very much as a -comedy in which she had a proud, nay, a generous resolution not to act -the mean or treacherous part. Mary might have become cynical if she had -not had parents whom she honored, and a well of affectionate gratitude -within her, which was all the fuller because she had learned to make no -unreasonable claims. - -She sat to-night revolving, as she was wont, the scenes of the day, her -lips often curling with amusement at the oddities to which her fancy -added fresh drollery: people were so ridiculous with their illusions, -carrying their fools caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque -while everybody elses were transparent, making themselves exceptions -to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they -alone were rosy. Yet there were some illusions under Marys eyes which -were not quite comic to her. She was secretly convinced, though she had -no other grounds than her close observation of old Featherstones -nature, that in spite of his fondness for having the Vincys about him, -they were as likely to be disappointed as any of the relations whom he -kept at a distance. She had a good deal of disdain for Mrs. Vincys -evident alarm lest she and Fred should be alone together, but it did -not hinder her from thinking anxiously of the way in which Fred would -be affected, if it should turn out that his uncle had left him as poor -as ever. She could make a butt of Fred when he was present, but she did -not enjoy his follies when he was absent. - -Yet she liked her thoughts: a vigorous young mind not overbalanced by -passion, finds a good in making acquaintance with life, and watches its -own powers with interest. Mary had plenty of merriment within. - -Her thought was not veined by any solemnity or pathos about the old man -on the bed: such sentiments are easier to affect than to feel about an -aged creature whose life is not visibly anything but a remnant of -vices. She had always seen the most disagreeable side of Mr. -Featherstone: he was not proud of her, and she was only useful to him. -To be anxious about a soul that is always snapping at you must be left -to the saints of the earth; and Mary was not one of them. She had never -returned him a harsh word, and had waited on him faithfully: that was -her utmost. Old Featherstone himself was not in the least anxious about -his soul, and had declined to see Mr. Tucker on the subject. - -To-night he had not snapped, and for the first hour or two he lay -remarkably still, until at last Mary heard him rattling his bunch of -keys against the tin box which he always kept in the bed beside him. -About three oclock he said, with remarkable distinctness, Missy, come -here! - -Mary obeyed, and found that he had already drawn the tin box from under -the clothes, though he usually asked to have this done for him; and he -had selected the key. He now unlocked the box, and, drawing from it -another key, looked straight at her with eyes that seemed to have -recovered all their sharpness and said, How many of em are in the -house? - -You mean of your own relations, sir, said Mary, well used to the old -mans way of speech. He nodded slightly and she went on. - -Mr. Jonah Featherstone and young Cranch are sleeping here. - -Oh ay, they stick, do they? and the restthey come every day, Ill -warrantSolomon and Jane, and all the young uns? They come peeping, and -counting and casting up? - -Not all of them every day. Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Waule are here every -day, and the others come often. - -The old man listened with a grimace while she spoke, and then said, -relaxing his face, The more fools they. You hearken, missy. Its three -oclock in the morning, and Ive got all my faculties as well as ever I -had in my life. I know all my property, and where the moneys put out, -and everything. And Ive made everything ready to change my mind, and -do as I like at the last. Do you hear, missy? Ive got my faculties. - -Well, sir? said Mary, quietly. - -He now lowered his tone with an air of deeper cunning. Ive made two -wills, and Im going to burn one. Now you do as I tell you. This is the -key of my iron chest, in the closet there. You push well at the side of -the brass plate at the top, till it goes like a bolt: then you can put -the key in the front lock and turn it. See and do that; and take out -the topmost paperLast Will and Testamentbig printed. - -No, sir, said Mary, in a firm voice, I cannot do that. - -Not do it? I tell you, you must, said the old man, his voice -beginning to shake under the shock of this resistance. - -I cannot touch your iron chest or your will. I must refuse to do -anything that might lay me open to suspicion. - -I tell you, Im in my right mind. Shant I do as I like at the last? I -made two wills on purpose. Take the key, I say. - -No, sir, I will not, said Mary, more resolutely still. Her repulsion -was getting stronger. - -I tell you, theres no time to lose. - -I cannot help that, sir. I will not let the close of your life soil -the beginning of mine. I will not touch your iron chest or your will. -She moved to a little distance from the bedside. - -The old man paused with a blank stare for a little while, holding the -one key erect on the ring; then with an agitated jerk he began to work -with his bony left hand at emptying the tin box before him. - -Missy, he began to say, hurriedly, look here! take the moneythe -notes and goldlook heretake ityou shall have it alldo as I tell -you. - -He made an effort to stretch out the key towards her as far as -possible, and Mary again retreated. - -I will not touch your key or your money, sir. Pray dont ask me to do -it again. If you do, I must go and call your brother. - -He let his hand fall, and for the first time in her life Mary saw old -Peter Featherstone begin to cry childishly. She said, in as gentle a -tone as she could command, Pray put up your money, sir; and then went -away to her seat by the fire, hoping this would help to convince him -that it was useless to say more. Presently he rallied and said eagerly - -Look here, then. Call the young chap. Call Fred Vincy. - -Marys heart began to beat more quickly. Various ideas rushed through -her mind as to what the burning of a second will might imply. She had -to make a difficult decision in a hurry. - -I will call him, if you will let me call Mr. Jonah and others with -him. - -Nobody else, I say. The young chap. I shall do as I like. - -Wait till broad daylight, sir, when every one is stirring. Or let me -call Simmons now, to go and fetch the lawyer? He can be here in less -than two hours. - -Lawyer? What do I want with the lawyer? Nobody shall knowI say, -nobody shall know. I shall do as I like. - -Let me call some one else, sir, said Mary, persuasively. She did not -like her positionalone with the old man, who seemed to show a strange -flaring of nervous energy which enabled him to speak again and again -without falling into his usual cough; yet she desired not to push -unnecessarily the contradiction which agitated him. Let me, pray, call -some one else. - -You let me alone, I say. Look here, missy. Take the money. Youll -never have the chance again. Its pretty nigh two hundredtheres more -in the box, and nobody knows how much there was. Take it and do as I -tell you. - -Mary, standing by the fire, saw its red light falling on the old man, -propped up on his pillows and bed-rest, with his bony hand holding out -the key, and the money lying on the quilt before him. She never forgot -that vision of a man wanting to do as he liked at the last. But the way -in which he had put the offer of the money urged her to speak with -harder resolution than ever. - -It is of no use, sir. I will not do it. Put up your money. I will not -touch your money. I will do anything else I can to comfort you; but I -will not touch your keys or your money. - -Anything elseanything else! said old Featherstone, with hoarse rage, -which, as if in a nightmare, tried to be loud, and yet was only just -audible. I want nothing else. You come hereyou come here. - -Mary approached him cautiously, knowing him too well. She saw him -dropping his keys and trying to grasp his stick, while he looked at her -like an aged hyena, the muscles of his face getting distorted with the -effort of his hand. She paused at a safe distance. - -Let me give you some cordial, she said, quietly, and try to compose -yourself. You will perhaps go to sleep. And to-morrow by daylight you -can do as you like. - -He lifted the stick, in spite of her being beyond his reach, and threw -it with a hard effort which was but impotence. It fell, slipping over -the foot of the bed. Mary let it lie, and retreated to her chair by the -fire. By-and-by she would go to him with the cordial. Fatigue would -make him passive. It was getting towards the chillest moment of the -morning, the fire had got low, and she could see through the chink -between the moreen window-curtains the light whitened by the blind. -Having put some wood on the fire and thrown a shawl over her, she sat -down, hoping that Mr. Featherstone might now fall asleep. If she went -near him the irritation might be kept up. He had said nothing after -throwing the stick, but she had seen him taking his keys again and -laying his right hand on the money. He did not put it up, however, and -she thought that he was dropping off to sleep. - -But Mary herself began to be more agitated by the remembrance of what -she had gone through, than she had been by the realityquestioning -those acts of hers which had come imperatively and excluded all -question in the critical moment. - -Presently the dry wood sent out a flame which illuminated every -crevice, and Mary saw that the old man was lying quietly with his head -turned a little on one side. She went towards him with inaudible steps, -and thought that his face looked strangely motionless; but the next -moment the movement of the flame communicating itself to all objects -made her uncertain. The violent beating of her heart rendered her -perceptions so doubtful that even when she touched him and listened for -his breathing, she could not trust her conclusions. She went to the -window and gently propped aside the curtain and blind, so that the -still light of the sky fell on the bed. - -The next moment she ran to the bell and rang it energetically. In a -very little while there was no longer any doubt that Peter Featherstone -was dead, with his right hand clasping the keys, and his left hand -lying on the heap of notes and gold. - - - - -BOOK IV. -THREE LOVE PROBLEMS. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -1_st Gent_. Such men as this are feathers, chips, and straws, - Carry no weight, no force. - -2_d Gent_. But levity - Is causal too, and makes the sum of weight. - For power finds its place in lack of power; - Advance is cession, and the driven ship - May run aground because the helmsmans thought - Lacked force to balance opposites. - - -It was on a morning of May that Peter Featherstone was buried. In the -prosaic neighborhood of Middlemarch, May was not always warm and sunny, -and on this particular morning a chill wind was blowing the blossoms -from the surrounding gardens on to the green mounds of Lowick -churchyard. Swiftly moving clouds only now and then allowed a gleam to -light up any object, whether ugly or beautiful, that happened to stand -within its golden shower. In the churchyard the objects were remarkably -various, for there was a little country crowd waiting to see the -funeral. The news had spread that it was to be a big burying; the old -gentleman had left written directions about everything and meant to -have a funeral beyond his betters. This was true; for old -Featherstone had not been a Harpagon whose passions had all been -devoured by the ever-lean and ever-hungry passion of saving, and who -would drive a bargain with his undertaker beforehand. He loved money, -but he also loved to spend it in gratifying his peculiar tastes, and -perhaps he loved it best of all as a means of making others feel his -power more or less uncomfortably. If any one will here contend that -there must have been traits of goodness in old Featherstone, I will not -presume to deny this; but I must observe that goodness is of a modest -nature, easily discouraged, and when much privacy, elbowed in early -life by unabashed vices, is apt to retire into extreme privacy, so that -it is more easily believed in by those who construct a selfish old -gentleman theoretically, than by those who form the narrower judgments -based on his personal acquaintance. In any case, he had been bent on -having a handsome funeral, and on having persons bid to it who would -rather have stayed at home. He had even desired that female relatives -should follow him to the grave, and poor sister Martha had taken a -difficult journey for this purpose from the Chalky Flats. She and Jane -would have been altogether cheered (in a tearful manner) by this sign -that a brother who disliked seeing them while he was living had been -prospectively fond of their presence when he should have become a -testator, if the sign had not been made equivocal by being extended to -Mrs. Vincy, whose expense in handsome crape seemed to imply the most -presumptuous hopes, aggravated by a bloom of complexion which told -pretty plainly that she was not a blood-relation, but of that generally -objectionable class called wifes kin. - -We are all of us imaginative in some form or other, for images are the -brood of desire; and poor old Featherstone, who laughed much at the way -in which others cajoled themselves, did not escape the fellowship of -illusion. In writing the programme for his burial he certainly did not -make clear to himself that his pleasure in the little drama of which it -formed a part was confined to anticipation. In chuckling over the -vexations he could inflict by the rigid clutch of his dead hand, he -inevitably mingled his consciousness with that livid stagnant presence, -and so far as he was preoccupied with a future life, it was with one of -gratification inside his coffin. Thus old Featherstone was imaginative, -after his fashion. - -However, the three mourning-coaches were filled according to the -written orders of the deceased. There were pall-bearers on horseback, -with the richest scarfs and hatbands, and even the under-bearers had -trappings of woe which were of a good well-priced quality. The black -procession, when dismounted, looked the larger for the smallness of the -churchyard; the heavy human faces and the black draperies shivering in -the wind seemed to tell of a world strangely incongruous with the -lightly dropping blossoms and the gleams of sunshine on the daisies. -The clergyman who met the procession was Mr. Cadwalladeralso according -to the request of Peter Featherstone, prompted as usual by peculiar -reasons. Having a contempt for curates, whom he always called -understrappers, he was resolved to be buried by a beneficed clergyman. -Mr. Casaubon was out of the question, not merely because he declined -duty of this sort, but because Featherstone had an especial dislike to -him as the rector of his own parish, who had a lien on the land in the -shape of tithe, also as the deliverer of morning sermons, which the old -man, being in his pew and not at all sleepy, had been obliged to sit -through with an inward snarl. He had an objection to a parson stuck up -above his head preaching to him. But his relations with Mr. Cadwallader -had been of a different kind: the trout-stream which ran through Mr. -Casaubons land took its course through Featherstones also, so that -Mr. Cadwallader was a parson who had had to ask a favor instead of -preaching. Moreover, he was one of the high gentry living four miles -away from Lowick, and was thus exalted to an equal sky with the sheriff -of the county and other dignities vaguely regarded as necessary to the -system of things. There would be a satisfaction in being buried by Mr. -Cadwallader, whose very name offered a fine opportunity for pronouncing -wrongly if you liked. - -This distinction conferred on the Rector of Tipton and Freshitt was the -reason why Mrs. Cadwallader made one of the group that watched old -Featherstones funeral from an upper window of the manor. She was not -fond of visiting that house, but she liked, as she said, to see -collections of strange animals such as there would be at this funeral; -and she had persuaded Sir James and the young Lady Chettam to drive the -Rector and herself to Lowick in order that the visit might be -altogether pleasant. - -I will go anywhere with you, Mrs. Cadwallader, Celia had said; but I -dont like funerals. - -Oh, my dear, when you have a clergyman in your family you must -accommodate your tastes: I did that very early. When I married Humphrey -I made up my mind to like sermons, and I set out by liking the end very -much. That soon spread to the middle and the beginning, because I -couldnt have the end without them. - -No, to be sure not, said the Dowager Lady Chettam, with stately -emphasis. - -The upper window from which the funeral could be well seen was in the -room occupied by Mr. Casaubon when he had been forbidden to work; but -he had resumed nearly his habitual style of life now in spite of -warnings and prescriptions, and after politely welcoming Mrs. -Cadwallader had slipped again into the library to chew a cud of erudite -mistake about Cush and Mizraim. - -But for her visitors Dorothea too might have been shut up in the -library, and would not have witnessed this scene of old Featherstones -funeral, which, aloof as it seemed to be from the tenor of her life, -always afterwards came back to her at the touch of certain sensitive -points in memory, just as the vision of St. Peters at Rome was inwoven -with moods of despondency. Scenes which make vital changes in our -neighbors lot are but the background of our own, yet, like a -particular aspect of the fields and trees, they become associated for -us with the epochs of our own history, and make a part of that unity -which lies in the selection of our keenest consciousness. - -The dream-like association of something alien and ill-understood with -the deepest secrets of her experience seemed to mirror that sense of -loneliness which was due to the very ardor of Dorotheas nature. The -country gentry of old time lived in a rarefied social air: dotted apart -on their stations up the mountain they looked down with imperfect -discrimination on the belts of thicker life below. And Dorothea was not -at ease in the perspective and chilliness of that height. - -I shall not look any more, said Celia, after the train had entered -the church, placing herself a little behind her husbands elbow so that -she could slyly touch his coat with her cheek. I dare say Dodo likes -it: she is fond of melancholy things and ugly people. - -I am fond of knowing something about the people I live among, said -Dorothea, who had been watching everything with the interest of a monk -on his holiday tour. It seems to me we know nothing of our neighbors, -unless they are cottagers. One is constantly wondering what sort of -lives other people lead, and how they take things. I am quite obliged -to Mrs. Cadwallader for coming and calling me out of the library. - -Quite right to feel obliged to me, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Your rich -Lowick farmers are as curious as any buffaloes or bisons, and I dare -say you dont half see them at church. They are quite different from -your uncles tenants or Sir Jamessmonstersfarmers without -landlordsone cant tell how to class them. - -Most of these followers are not Lowick people, said Sir James; I -suppose they are legatees from a distance, or from Middlemarch. -Lovegood tells me the old fellow has left a good deal of money as well -as land. - -Think of that now! when so many younger sons cant dine at their own -expense, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Ah, turning round at the sound of -the opening door, here is Mr. Brooke. I felt that we were incomplete -before, and here is the explanation. You are come to see this odd -funeral, of course? - -No, I came to look after Casaubonto see how he goes on, you know. And -to bring a little newsa little news, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, -nodding at Dorothea as she came towards him. I looked into the -library, and I saw Casaubon over his books. I told him it wouldnt do: -I said, This will never do, you know: think of your wife, Casaubon. -And he promised me to come up. I didnt tell him my news: I said, he -must come up. - -Ah, now they are coming out of church, Mrs. Cadwallader exclaimed. -Dear me, what a wonderfully mixed set! Mr. Lydgate as doctor, I -suppose. But that is really a good looking woman, and the fair young -man must be her son. Who are they, Sir James, do you know? - -I see Vincy, the Mayor of Middlemarch; they are probably his wife and -son, said Sir James, looking interrogatively at Mr. Brooke, who nodded -and said - -Yes, a very decent familya very good fellow is Vincy; a credit to the -manufacturing interest. You have seen him at my house, you know. - -Ah, yes: one of your secret committee, said Mrs. Cadwallader, -provokingly. - -A coursing fellow, though, said Sir James, with a fox-hunters -disgust. - -And one of those who suck the life out of the wretched handloom -weavers in Tipton and Freshitt. That is how his family look so fair and -sleek, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Those dark, purple-faced people are an -excellent foil. Dear me, they are like a set of jugs! Do look at -Humphrey: one might fancy him an ugly archangel towering above them in -his white surplice. - -Its a solemn thing, though, a funeral, said Mr. Brooke, if you take -it in that light, you know. - -But I am not taking it in that light. I cant wear my solemnity too -often, else it will go to rags. It was time the old man died, and none -of these people are sorry. - -How piteous! said Dorothea. This funeral seems to me the most dismal -thing I ever saw. It is a blot on the morning. I cannot bear to think -that any one should die and leave no love behind. - -She was going to say more, but she saw her husband enter and seat -himself a little in the background. The difference his presence made to -her was not always a happy one: she felt that he often inwardly -objected to her speech. - -Positively, exclaimed Mrs. Cadwallader, there is a new face come out -from behind that broad man queerer than any of them: a little round -head with bulging eyesa sort of frog-facedo look. He must be of -another blood, I think. - -Let me see! said Celia, with awakened curiosity, standing behind Mrs. -Cadwallader and leaning forward over her head. Oh, what an odd face! -Then with a quick change to another sort of surprised expression, she -added, Why, Dodo, you never told me that Mr. Ladislaw was come again! - -Dorothea felt a shock of alarm: every one noticed her sudden paleness -as she looked up immediately at her uncle, while Mr. Casaubon looked at -her. - -He came with me, you know; he is my guestputs up with me at the -Grange, said Mr. Brooke, in his easiest tone, nodding at Dorothea, as -if the announcement were just what she might have expected. And we -have brought the picture at the top of the carriage. I knew you would -be pleased with the surprise, Casaubon. There you are to the very -lifeas Aquinas, you know. Quite the right sort of thing. And you will -hear young Ladislaw talk about it. He talks uncommonly wellpoints out -this, that, and the otherknows art and everything of that -kindcompanionable, you knowis up with you in any trackwhat Ive been -wanting a long while. - -Mr. Casaubon bowed with cold politeness, mastering his irritation, but -only so far as to be silent. He remembered Wills letter quite as well -as Dorothea did; he had noticed that it was not among the letters which -had been reserved for him on his recovery, and secretly concluding that -Dorothea had sent word to Will not to come to Lowick, he had shrunk -with proud sensitiveness from ever recurring to the subject. He now -inferred that she had asked her uncle to invite Will to the Grange; and -she felt it impossible at that moment to enter into any explanation. - -Mrs. Cadwalladers eyes, diverted from the churchyard, saw a good deal -of dumb show which was not so intelligible to her as she could have -desired, and could not repress the question, Who is Mr. Ladislaw? - -A young relative of Mr. Casaubons, said Sir James, promptly. His -good-nature often made him quick and clear-seeing in personal matters, -and he had divined from Dorotheas glance at her husband that there was -some alarm in her mind. - -A very nice young fellowCasaubon has done everything for him, -explained Mr. Brooke. He repays your expense in him, Casaubon, he -went on, nodding encouragingly. I hope he will stay with me a long -while and we shall make something of my documents. I have plenty of -ideas and facts, you know, and I can see he is just the man to put them -into shaperemembers what the right quotations are, _omne tulit -punctum_, and that sort of thinggives subjects a kind of turn. I -invited him some time ago when you were ill, Casaubon; Dorothea said -you couldnt have anybody in the house, you know, and she asked me to -write. - -Poor Dorothea felt that every word of her uncles was about as pleasant -as a grain of sand in the eye to Mr. Casaubon. It would be altogether -unfitting now to explain that she had not wished her uncle to invite -Will Ladislaw. She could not in the least make clear to herself the -reasons for her husbands dislike to his presencea dislike painfully -impressed on her by the scene in the library; but she felt the -unbecomingness of saying anything that might convey a notion of it to -others. Mr. Casaubon, indeed, had not thoroughly represented those -mixed reasons to himself; irritated feeling with him, as with all of -us, seeking rather for justification than for self-knowledge. But he -wished to repress outward signs, and only Dorothea could discern the -changes in her husbands face before he observed with more of dignified -bending and sing-song than usual - -You are exceedingly hospitable, my dear sir; and I owe you -acknowledgments for exercising your hospitality towards a relative of -mine. - -The funeral was ended now, and the churchyard was being cleared. - -Now you can see him, Mrs. Cadwallader, said Celia. He is just like a -miniature of Mr. Casaubons aunt that hangs in Dorotheas boudoirquite -nice-looking. - -A very pretty sprig, said Mrs. Cadwallader, dryly. What is your -nephew to be, Mr. Casaubon? - -Pardon me, he is not my nephew. He is my cousin. - -Well, you know, interposed Mr. Brooke, he is trying his wings. He is -just the sort of young fellow to rise. I should be glad to give him an -opportunity. He would make a good secretary, now, like Hobbes, Milton, -Swiftthat sort of man. - -I understand, said Mrs. Cadwallader. One who can write speeches. - -Ill fetch him in now, eh, Casaubon? said Mr. Brooke. He wouldnt -come in till I had announced him, you know. And well go down and look -at the picture. There you are to the life: a deep subtle sort of -thinker with his fore-finger on the page, while Saint Bonaventure or -somebody else, rather fat and florid, is looking up at the Trinity. -Everything is symbolical, you knowthe higher style of art: I like that -up to a certain point, but not too farits rather straining to keep up -with, you know. But you are at home in that, Casaubon. And your -painters flesh is goodsolidity, transparency, everything of that -sort. I went into that a great deal at one time. However, Ill go and -fetch Ladislaw. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -Non, je ne comprends pas de plus charmant plaisir -Que de voir dhritiers une troupe afflige -Le maintien interdit, et la mine allonge, -Lire un long testament o pales, tonns -On leur laisse un bonsoir avec un pied de nez. -Pour voir au naturel leur tristesse profonde -Je reviendrais, je crois, exprs de lautre monde. -REGNARD: _Le Lgataire Universel_. - - -When the animals entered the Ark in pairs, one may imagine that allied -species made much private remark on each other, and were tempted to -think that so many forms feeding on the same store of fodder were -eminently superfluous, as tending to diminish the rations. (I fear the -part played by the vultures on that occasion would be too painful for -art to represent, those birds being disadvantageously naked about the -gullet, and apparently without rites and ceremonies.) - -The same sort of temptation befell the Christian Carnivora who formed -Peter Featherstones funeral procession; most of them having their -minds bent on a limited store which each would have liked to get the -most of. The long-recognized blood-relations and connections by -marriage made already a goodly number, which, multiplied by -possibilities, presented a fine range for jealous conjecture and -pathetic hopefulness. Jealousy of the Vincys had created a fellowship -in hostility among all persons of the Featherstone blood, so that in -the absence of any decided indication that one of themselves was to -have more than the rest, the dread lest that long-legged Fred Vincy -should have the land was necessarily dominant, though it left abundant -feeling and leisure for vaguer jealousies, such as were entertained -towards Mary Garth. Solomon found time to reflect that Jonah was -undeserving, and Jonah to abuse Solomon as greedy; Jane, the elder -sister, held that Marthas children ought not to expect so much as the -young Waules; and Martha, more lax on the subject of primogeniture, was -sorry to think that Jane was so having. These nearest of kin were -naturally impressed with the unreasonableness of expectations in -cousins and second cousins, and used their arithmetic in reckoning the -large sums that small legacies might mount to, if there were too many -of them. Two cousins were present to hear the will, and a second cousin -besides Mr. Trumbull. This second cousin was a Middlemarch mercer of -polite manners and superfluous aspirates. The two cousins were elderly -men from Brassing, one of them conscious of claims on the score of -inconvenient expense sustained by him in presents of oysters and other -eatables to his rich cousin Peter; the other entirely saturnine, -leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims based on -no narrow performance but on merit generally: both blameless citizens -of Brassing, who wished that Jonah Featherstone did not live there. The -wit of a family is usually best received among strangers. - -Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred_that_ you may -depend,I shouldnt wonder if my brother promised him, said Solomon, -musing aloud with his sisters, the evening before the funeral. - -Dear, dear! said poor sister Martha, whose imagination of hundreds -had been habitually narrowed to the amount of her unpaid rent. - -But in the morning all the ordinary currents of conjecture were -disturbed by the presence of a strange mourner who had plashed among -them as if from the moon. This was the stranger described by Mrs. -Cadwallader as frog-faced: a man perhaps about two or three and thirty, -whose prominent eyes, thin-lipped, downward-curved mouth, and hair -sleekly brushed away from a forehead that sank suddenly above the ridge -of the eyebrows, certainly gave his face a batrachian unchangeableness -of expression. Here, clearly, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden -as a mourner? Here were new possibilities, raising a new uncertainty, -which almost checked remark in the mourning-coaches. We are all -humiliated by the sudden discovery of a fact which has existed very -comfortably and perhaps been staring at us in private while we have -been making up our world entirely without it. No one had seen this -questionable stranger before except Mary Garth, and she knew nothing -more of him than that he had twice been to Stone Court when Mr. -Featherstone was down-stairs, and had sat alone with him for several -hours. She had found an opportunity of mentioning this to her father, -and perhaps Calebs were the only eyes, except the lawyers, which -examined the stranger with more of inquiry than of disgust or -suspicion. Caleb Garth, having little expectation and less cupidity, -was interested in the verification of his own guesses, and the calmness -with which he half smilingly rubbed his chin and shot intelligent -glances much as if he were valuing a tree, made a fine contrast with -the alarm or scorn visible in other faces when the unknown mourner, -whose name was understood to be Rigg, entered the wainscoted parlor and -took his seat near the door to make part of the audience when the will -should be read. Just then Mr. Solomon and Mr. Jonah were gone up-stairs -with the lawyer to search for the will; and Mrs. Waule, seeing two -vacant seats between herself and Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, had the spirit -to move next to that great authority, who was handling his watch-seals -and trimming his outlines with a determination not to show anything so -compromising to a man of ability as wonder or surprise. - -I suppose you know everything about what my poor brothers done, Mr. -Trumbull, said Mrs. Waule, in the lowest of her woolly tones, while -she turned her crape-shadowed bonnet towards Mr. Trumbulls ear. - -My good lady, whatever was told me was told in confidence, said the -auctioneer, putting his hand up to screen that secret. - -Them whove made sure of their good-luck may be disappointed yet, -Mrs. Waule continued, finding some relief in this communication. - -Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Trumbull, still in confidence. - -Ah! said Mrs. Waule, looking across at the Vincys, and then moving -back to the side of her sister Martha. - -Its wonderful how close poor Peter was, she said, in the same -undertones. We none of us know what he might have had on his mind. I -only hope and trust he wasnt a worse liver than we think of, Martha. - -Poor Mrs. Cranch was bulky, and, breathing asthmatically, had the -additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving -them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to -sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ. - -I never _was_ covetous, Jane, she replied; but I have six children -and have buried three, and I didnt marry into money. The eldest, that -sits there, is but nineteenso I leave you to guess. And stock always -short, and land most awkward. But if ever Ive begged and prayed; its -been to God above; though where theres one brother a bachelor and the -other childless after twice marryinganybody might think! - -Meanwhile, Mr. Vincy had glanced at the passive face of Mr. Rigg, and -had taken out his snuff-box and tapped it, but had put it again -unopened as an indulgence which, however clarifying to the judgment, -was unsuited to the occasion. I shouldnt wonder if Featherstone had -better feelings than any of us gave him credit for, he observed, in -the ear of his wife. This funeral shows a thought about everybody: it -looks well when a man wants to be followed by his friends, and if they -are humble, not to be ashamed of them. I should be all the better -pleased if hed left lots of small legacies. They may be uncommonly -useful to fellows in a small way. - -Everything is as handsome as could be, crape and silk and everything, -said Mrs. Vincy, contentedly. - -But I am sorry to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing -a laugh, which would have been more unsuitable than his fathers -snuff-box. Fred had overheard Mr. Jonah suggesting something about a -love-child, and with this thought in his mind, the strangers face, -which happened to be opposite him, affected him too ludicrously. Mary -Garth, discerning his distress in the twitchings of his mouth, and his -recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to -change seats with her, so that he got into a shadowy corner. Fred was -feeling as good-naturedly as possible towards everybody, including -Rigg; and having some relenting towards all these people who were less -lucky than he was aware of being himself, he would not for the world -have behaved amiss; still, it was particularly easy to laugh. - -But the entrance of the lawyer and the two brothers drew every ones -attention. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, and he had come to Stone Court -this morning believing that he knew thoroughly well who would be -pleased and who disappointed before the day was over. The will he -expected to read was the last of three which he had drawn up for Mr. -Featherstone. Mr. Standish was not a man who varied his manners: he -behaved with the same deep-voiced, off-hand civility to everybody, as -if he saw no difference in them, and talked chiefly of the hay-crop, -which would be very fine, by God! of the last bulletins concerning -the King, and of the Duke of Clarence, who was a sailor every inch of -him, and just the man to rule over an island like Britain. - -Old Featherstone had often reflected as he sat looking at the fire that -Standish would be surprised some day: it is true that if he had done as -he liked at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by another lawyer, he -would not have secured that minor end; still he had had his pleasure in -ruminating on it. And certainly Mr. Standish was surprised, but not at -all sorry; on the contrary, he rather enjoyed the zest of a little -curiosity in his own mind, which the discovery of a second will added -to the prospective amazement on the part of the Featherstone family. - -As to the sentiments of Solomon and Jonah, they were held in utter -suspense: it seemed to them that the old will would have a certain -validity, and that there might be such an interlacement of poor Peters -former and latter intentions as to create endless lawing before -anybody came by their ownan inconvenience which would have at least -the advantage of going all round. Hence the brothers showed a -thoroughly neutral gravity as they re-entered with Mr. Standish; but -Solomon took out his white handkerchief again with a sense that in any -case there would be affecting passages, and crying at funerals, however -dry, was customarily served up in lawn. - -Perhaps the person who felt the most throbbing excitement at this -moment was Mary Garth, in the consciousness that it was she who had -virtually determined the production of this second will, which might -have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present. No soul -except herself knew what had passed on that final night. - -The will I hold in my hand, said Mr. Standish, who, seated at the -table in the middle of the room, took his time about everything, -including the coughs with which he showed a disposition to clear his -voice, was drawn up by myself and executed by our deceased friend on -the 9th of August, 1825. But I find that there is a subsequent -instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, -hardly a year later than the previous one. And there is farther, I -seeMr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his -spectaclesa codicil to this latter will, bearing date March 1, 1828. - -Dear, dear! said sister Martha, not meaning to be audible, but driven -to some articulation under this pressure of dates. - -I shall begin by reading the earlier will, continued Mr. Standish, -since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was -the intention of the deceased. - -The preamble was felt to be rather long, and several besides Solomon -shook their heads pathetically, looking on the ground: all eyes avoided -meeting other eyes, and were chiefly fixed either on the spots in the -table-cloth or on Mr. Standishs bald head; excepting Mary Garths. -When all the rest were trying to look nowhere in particular, it was -safe for her to look at them. And at the sound of the first give and -bequeath she could see all complexions changing subtly, as if some -faint vibration were passing through them, save that of Mr. Rigg. He -sat in unaltered calm, and, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more -important problems, and with the complication of listening to bequests -which might or might not be revoked, had ceased to think of him. Fred -blushed, and Mr. Vincy found it impossible to do without his snuff-box -in his hand, though he kept it closed. - -The small bequests came first, and even the recollection that there was -another will and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, could -not quell the rising disgust and indignation. One likes to be done well -by in every tense, past, present, and future. And here was Peter -capable five years ago of leaving only two hundred apiece to his own -brothers and sisters, and only a hundred apiece to his own nephews and -nieces: the Garths were not mentioned, but Mrs. Vincy and Rosamond were -each to have a hundred. Mr. Trumbull was to have the gold-headed cane -and fifty pounds; the other second cousins and the cousins present were -each to have the like handsome sum, which, as the saturnine cousin -observed, was a sort of legacy that left a man nowhere; and there was -much more of such offensive dribbling in favor of persons not -presentproblematical, and, it was to be feared, low connections. -Altogether, reckoning hastily, here were about three thousand disposed -of. Where then had Peter meant the rest of the money to goand where -the land? and what was revoked and what not revokedand was the -revocation for better or for worse? All emotion must be conditional, -and might turn out to be the wrong thing. The men were strong enough to -bear up and keep quiet under this confused suspense; some letting their -lower lip fall, others pursing it up, according to the habit of their -muscles. But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and -began to cry; poor Mrs. Cranch being half moved with the consolation of -getting any hundreds at all without working for them, and half aware -that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs. Waules mind was entirely -flooded with the sense of being an own sister and getting little, while -somebody else was to have much. The general expectation now was that -the much would fall to Fred Vincy, but the Vincys themselves were -surprised when ten thousand pounds in specified investments were -declared to be bequeathed to him:was the land coming too? Fred bit his -lips: it was difficult to help smiling, and Mrs. Vincy felt herself the -happiest of womenpossible revocation shrinking out of sight in this -dazzling vision. - -There was still a residue of personal property as well as the land, but -the whole was left to one person, and that person wasO possibilities! -O expectations founded on the favor of close old gentlemen! O endless -vocatives that would still leave expression slipping helpless from the -measurement of mortal folly!that residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, -who was also sole executor, and who was to take thenceforth the name of -Featherstone. - -There was a rustling which seemed like a shudder running round the -room. Every one stared afresh at Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced -no surprise. - -A most singular testamentary disposition! exclaimed Mr. Trumbull, -preferring for once that he should be considered ignorant in the past. -But there is a second willthere is a further document. We have not -yet heard the final wishes of the deceased. - -Mary Garth was feeling that what they had yet to hear were not the -final wishes. The second will revoked everything except the legacies to -the low persons before mentioned (some alterations in these being the -occasion of the codicil), and the bequest of all the land lying in -Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua -Rigg. The residue of the property was to be devoted to the erection and -endowment of almshouses for old men, to be called Featherstones -Alms-Houses, and to be built on a piece of land near Middlemarch -already bought for the purpose by the testator, he wishingso the -document declaredto please God Almighty. Nobody present had a -farthing; but Mr. Trumbull had the gold-headed cane. It took some time -for the company to recover the power of expression. Mary dared not look -at Fred. - -Mr. Vincy was the first to speakafter using his snuff-box -energeticallyand he spoke with loud indignation. The most -unaccountable will I ever heard! I should say he was not in his right -mind when he made it. I should say this last will was void, added Mr. -Vincy, feeling that this expression put the thing in the true light. -Eh Standish? - -Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think, said Mr. -Standish. Everything is quite regular. Here is a letter from Clemmens -of Brassing tied with the will. He drew it up. A very respectable -solicitor. - -I never noticed any alienation of mindany aberration of intellect in -the late Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, but I call this -will eccentric. I was always willingly of service to the old soul; and -he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show -itself in his will. The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an -acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations. - -Theres nothing very surprising in the matter that I can see, said -Caleb Garth. Anybody might have had more reason for wondering if the -will had been what you might expect from an open-minded straightforward -man. For my part, I wish there was no such thing as a will. - -Thats a strange sentiment to come from a Christian man, by God! said -the lawyer. I should like to know how you will back that up, Garth! - -Oh, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with -nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. It always seemed to him -that words were the hardest part of business. - -But here Mr. Jonah Featherstone made himself heard. Well, he always -was a fine hypocrite, was my brother Peter. But this will cuts out -everything. If Id known, a wagon and six horses shouldnt have drawn -me from Brassing. Ill put a white hat and drab coat on to-morrow. - -Dear, dear, wept Mrs. Cranch, and weve been at the expense of -travelling, and that poor lad sitting idle here so long! Its the first -time I ever heard my brother Peter was so wishful to please God -Almighty; but if I was to be struck helpless I must say its hardI can -think no other. - -Itll do him no good where hes gone, thats my belief, said Solomon, -with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could -not help being sly. Peter was a bad liver, and almshouses wont cover -it, when hes had the impudence to show it at the last. - -And all the while had got his own lawful familybrothers and sisters -and nephews and niecesand has sat in church with em whenever he -thought well to come, said Mrs. Waule. And might have left his -property so respectable, to them thats never been used to extravagance -or unsteadiness in no manner of wayand not so poor but what they could -have saved every penny and made more of it. And methe trouble Ive -been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterlyand him with -things on his mind all the while that might make anybodys flesh creep. -But if the Almightys allowed it, he means to punish him for it. -Brother Solomon, I shall be going, if youll drive me. - -Ive no desire to put my foot on the premises again, said Solomon. -Ive got land of my own and property of my own to will away. - -Its a poor tale how luck goes in the world, said Jonah. It never -answers to have a bit of spirit in you. Youd better be a dog in the -manger. But those above ground might learn a lesson. One fools will is -enough in a family. - -Theres more ways than one of being a fool, said Solomon. I shant -leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I shant leave it to -foundlings from Africay. I like Featherstones that were brewed such, -and not turned Featherstones with sticking the name on em. - -Solomon addressed these remarks in a loud aside to Mrs. Waule as he -rose to accompany her. Brother Jonah felt himself capable of much more -stinging wit than this, but he reflected that there was no use in -offending the new proprietor of Stone Court, until you were certain -that he was quite without intentions of hospitality towards witty men -whose name he was about to bear. - -Mr. Joshua Rigg, in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any -innuendoes, but showed a notable change of manner, walking coolly up to -Mr. Standish and putting business questions with much coolness. He had -a high chirping voice and a vile accent. Fred, whom he no longer moved -to laughter, thought him the lowest monster he had ever seen. But Fred -was feeling rather sick. The Middlemarch mercer waited for an -opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no knowing -how many pairs of legs the new proprietor might require hose for, and -profits were more to be relied on than legacies. Also, the mercer, as a -second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity. - -Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained proudly silent, though -too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of moving, till -he observed that his wife had gone to Freds side and was crying -silently while she held her darlings hand. He rose immediately, and -turning his back on the company while he said to her in an -undertone,Dont give way, Lucy; dont make a fool of yourself, my -dear, before these people, he added in his usual loud voiceGo and -order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste. - -Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her -father. She met Fred in the hall, and now for the first time had the -courage to look at him. He had that withered sort of paleness which -will sometimes come on young faces, and his hand was very cold when she -shook it. Mary too was agitated; she was conscious that fatally, -without will of her own, she had perhaps made a great difference to -Freds lot. - -Good-by, she said, with affectionate sadness. Be brave, Fred. I do -believe you are better without the money. What was the good of it to -Mr. Featherstone? - -Thats all very fine, said Fred, pettishly. What is a fellow to do? -I must go into the Church now. (He knew that this would vex Mary: very -well; then she must tell him what else he could do.) And I thought I -should be able to pay your father at once and make everything right. -And you have not even a hundred pounds left you. What shall you do now, -Mary? - -Take another situation, of course, as soon as I can get one. My father -has enough to do to keep the rest, without me. Good-by. - -In a very short time Stone Court was cleared of well-brewed -Featherstones and other long-accustomed visitors. Another stranger had -been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in the -case of Mr. Rigg Featherstone there was more discontent with immediate -visible consequences than speculation as to the effect which his -presence might have in the future. No soul was prophetic enough to have -any foreboding as to what might appear on the trial of Joshua Rigg. - -And here I am naturally led to reflect on the means of elevating a low -subject. Historical parallels are remarkably efficient in this way. The -chief objection to them is, that the diligent narrator may lack space, -or (what is often the same thing) may not be able to think of them with -any degree of particularity, though he may have a philosophical -confidence that if known they would be illustrative. It seems an easier -and shorter way to dignity, to observe thatsince there never was a -true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a -monkey for a margrave, and vice versawhatever has been or is to be -narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a -parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought -into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more -than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company -with persons of some style. Thus while I tell the truth about loobies, -my readers imagination need not be entirely excluded from an -occupation with lords; and the petty sums which any bankrupt of high -standing would be sorry to retire upon, may be lifted to the level of -high commercial transactions by the inexpensive addition of -proportional ciphers. - -As to any provincial history in which the agents are all of high moral -rank, that must be of a date long posterior to the first Reform Bill, -and Peter Featherstone, you perceive, was dead and buried some months -before Lord Grey came into office. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -T is strange to see the humors of these men, -These great aspiring spirits, that should be wise: -. . . . . . . . -For being the nature of great spirits to love -To be where they may be most eminent; -They, rating of themselves so farre above -Us in conceit, with whom they do frequent, -Imagine how we wonder and esteeme -All that they do or say; which makes them strive -To make our admiration more extreme, -Which they suppose they cannot, less they give -Notice of their extreme and highest thoughts. -DANIEL: _Tragedy of Philotas_. - - -Mr. Vincy went home from the reading of the will with his point of view -considerably changed in relation to many subjects. He was an -open-minded man, but given to indirect modes of expressing himself: -when he was disappointed in a market for his silk braids, he swore at -the groom; when his brother-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, he made -cutting remarks on Methodism; and it was now apparent that he regarded -Freds idleness with a sudden increase of severity, by his throwing an -embroidered cap out of the smoking-room on to the hall-floor. - -Well, sir, he observed, when that young gentleman was moving off to -bed, I hope youve made up your mind now to go up next term and pass -your examination. Ive taken my resolution, so I advise you to lose no -time in taking yours. - -Fred made no answer: he was too utterly depressed. Twenty-four hours -ago he had thought that instead of needing to know what he should do, -he should by this time know that he needed to do nothing: that he -should hunt in pink, have a first-rate hunter, ride to cover on a fine -hack, and be generally respected for doing so; moreover, that he should -be able at once to pay Mr. Garth, and that Mary could no longer have -any reason for not marrying him. And all this was to have come without -study or other inconvenience, purely by the favor of providence in the -shape of an old gentlemans caprice. But now, at the end of the -twenty-four hours, all those firm expectations were upset. It was -rather hard lines that while he was smarting under this -disappointment he should be treated as if he could have helped it. But -he went away silently and his mother pleaded for him. - -Dont be hard on the poor boy, Vincy. Hell turn out well yet, though -that wicked man has deceived him. I feel as sure as I sit here, Fred -will turn out wellelse why was he brought back from the brink of the -grave? And I call it a robbery: it was like giving him the land, to -promise it; and what is promising, if making everybody believe is not -promising? And you see he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and then -took it away again. - -Took it away again! said Mr. Vincy, pettishly. I tell you the lads -an unlucky lad, Lucy. And youve always spoiled him. - -Well, Vincy, he was my first, and you made a fine fuss with him when -he came. You were as proud as proud, said Mrs. Vincy, easily -recovering her cheerful smile. - -Who knows what babies will turn to? I was fool enough, I dare say, -said the husbandmore mildly, however. - -But who has handsomer, better children than ours? Fred is far beyond -other peoples sons: you may hear it in his speech, that he has kept -college company. And Rosamondwhere is there a girl like her? She might -stand beside any lady in the land, and only look the better for it. You -seeMr. Lydgate has kept the highest company and been everywhere, and -he fell in love with her at once. Not but what I could have wished -Rosamond had not engaged herself. She might have met somebody on a -visit who would have been a far better match; I mean at her -schoolfellow Miss Willoughbys. There are relations in that family -quite as high as Mr. Lydgates. - -Damn relations! said Mr. Vincy; Ive had enough of them. I dont -want a son-in-law who has got nothing but his relations to recommend -him. - -Why, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, you seemed as pleased as could be -about it. Its true, I wasnt at home; but Rosamond told me you hadnt -a word to say against the engagement. And she has begun to buy in the -best linen and cambric for her underclothing. - -Not by my will, said Mr. Vincy. I shall have enough to do this year, -with an idle scamp of a son, without paying for wedding-clothes. The -times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and I dont -believe Lydgate has got a farthing. I shant give my consent to their -marrying. Let em wait, as their elders have done before em. - -Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bear -to cross her. - -Yes, I could. The sooner the engagements off, the better. I dont -believe hell ever make an income, the way he goes on. He makes -enemies; thats all I hear of his making. - -But he stands very high with Mr. Bulstrode, my dear. The marriage -would please _him_, I should think. - -Please the deuce! said Mr. Vincy. Bulstrode wont pay for their -keep. And if Lydgate thinks Im going to give money for them to set up -housekeeping, hes mistaken, thats all. I expect I shall have to put -down my horses soon. Youd better tell Rosy what I say. - -This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincyto be rash in jovial -assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been rash, -to employ others in making the offensive retractation. However, Mrs. -Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time the next -morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said. Rosamond, examining -some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave a certain -turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience could teach -you that it meant perfect obstinacy. - -What do you say, my dear? said her mother, with affectionate -deference. - -Papa does not mean anything of the kind, said Rosamond, quite calmly. -He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved. And I -shall marry Mr. Lydgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his -consent. And I hope we shall have Mrs. Brettons house. - -Well, my dear, I shall leave you to manage your papa. You always do -manage everybody. But if we ever do go and get damask, Sadlers is the -placefar better than Hopkinss. Mrs. Brettons is very large, though: -I should love you to have such a house; but it will take a great deal -of furniturecarpeting and everything, besides plate and glass. And you -hear, your papa says he will give no money. Do you think Mr. Lydgate -expects it? - -You cannot imagine that I should ask him, mamma. Of course he -understands his own affairs. - -But he may have been looking for money, my dear, and we all thought of -your having a pretty legacy as well as Fred;and now everything is so -dreadfultheres no pleasure in thinking of anything, with that poor -boy disappointed as he is. - -That has nothing to do with my marriage, mamma. Fred must leave off -being idle. I am going up-stairs to take this work to Miss Morgan: she -does the open hemming very well. Mary Garth might do some work for me -now, I should think. Her sewing is exquisite; it is the nicest thing I -know about Mary. I should so like to have all my cambric frilling -double-hemmed. And it takes a long time. - -Mrs. Vincys belief that Rosamond could manage her papa was well -founded. Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Vincy, blustering -as he was, had as little of his own way as if he had been a prime -minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much for him, as it -is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the circumstance called -Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that mild persistence -which, as we know, enables a white soft living substance to make its -way in spite of opposing rock. Papa was not a rock: he had no other -fixity than that fixity of alternating impulses sometimes called habit, -and this was altogether unfavorable to his taking the only decisive -line of conduct in relation to his daughters engagementnamely, to -inquire thoroughly into Lydgates circumstances, declare his own -inability to furnish money, and forbid alike either a speedy marriage -or an engagement which must be too lengthy. That seems very simple and -easy in the statement; but a disagreeable resolve formed in the chill -hours of the morning had as many conditions against it as the early -frost, and rarely persisted under the warming influences of the day. -The indirect though emphatic expression of opinion to which Mr. Vincy -was prone suffered much restraint in this case: Lydgate was a proud man -towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and throwing his hat on -the floor was out of the question. Mr. Vincy was a little in awe of -him, a little vain that he wanted to marry Rosamond, a little -indisposed to raise a question of money in which his own position was -not advantageous, a little afraid of being worsted in dialogue with a -man better educated and more highly bred than himself, and a little -afraid of doing what his daughter would not like. The part Mr. Vincy -preferred playing was that of the generous host whom nobody criticises. -In the earlier half of the day there was business to hinder any formal -communication of an adverse resolve; in the later there was dinner, -wine, whist, and general satisfaction. And in the mean while the hours -were each leaving their little deposit and gradually forming the final -reason for inaction, namely, that action was too late. The accepted -lover spent most of his evenings in Lowick Gate, and a love-making not -at all dependent on money-advances from fathers-in-law, or prospective -income from a profession, went on flourishingly under Mr. Vincys own -eyes. Young love-makingthat gossamer web! Even the points it clings -tothe things whence its subtle interlacings are swungare scarcely -perceptible: momentary touches of fingertips, meetings of rays from -blue and dark orbs, unfinished phrases, lightest changes of cheek and -lip, faintest tremors. The web itself is made of spontaneous beliefs -and indefinable joys, yearnings of one life towards another, visions of -completeness, indefinite trust. And Lydgate fell to spinning that web -from his inward self with wonderful rapidity, in spite of experience -supposed to be finished off with the drama of Laurein spite too of -medicine and biology; for the inspection of macerated muscle or of eyes -presented in a dish (like Santa Lucias), and other incidents of -scientific inquiry, are observed to be less incompatible with poetic -love than a native dulness or a lively addiction to the lowest prose. -As for Rosamond, she was in the water-lilys expanding wonderment at -its own fuller life, and she too was spinning industriously at the -mutual web. All this went on in the corner of the drawing-room where -the piano stood, and subtle as it was, the light made it a sort of -rainbow visible to many observers besides Mr. Farebrother. The -certainty that Miss Vincy and Mr. Lydgate were engaged became general -in Middlemarch without the aid of formal announcement. - -Aunt Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but this time she -addressed herself to her brother, going to the warehouse expressly to -avoid Mrs. Vincys volatility. His replies were not satisfactory. - -Walter, you never mean to tell me that you have allowed all this to go -on without inquiry into Mr. Lydgates prospects? said Mrs. Bulstrode, -opening her eyes with wider gravity at her brother, who was in his -peevish warehouse humor. Think of this girl brought up in luxuryin -too worldly a way, I am sorry to saywhat will she do on a small -income? - -Oh, confound it, Harriet! What can I do when men come into the town -without any asking of mine? Did you shut your house up against Lydgate? -Bulstrode has pushed him forward more than anybody. I never made any -fuss about the young fellow. You should go and talk to your husband -about it, not me. - -Well, really, Walter, how can Mr. Bulstrode be to blame? I am sure he -did not wish for the engagement. - -Oh, if Bulstrode had not taken him by the hand, I should never have -invited him. - -But you called him in to attend on Fred, and I am sure that was a -mercy, said Mrs. Bulstrode, losing her clew in the intricacies of the -subject. - -I dont know about mercy, said Mr. Vincy, testily. I know I am -worried more than I like with my family. I was a good brother to you, -Harriet, before you married Bulstrode, and I must say he doesnt always -show that friendly spirit towards your family that might have been -expected of him. Mr. Vincy was very little like a Jesuit, but no -accomplished Jesuit could have turned a question more adroitly. Harriet -had to defend her husband instead of blaming her brother, and the -conversation ended at a point as far from the beginning as some recent -sparring between the brothers-in-law at a vestry meeting. - -Mrs. Bulstrode did not repeat her brothers complaints to her husband, -but in the evening she spoke to him of Lydgate and Rosamond. He did not -share her warm interest, however; and only spoke with resignation of -the risks attendant on the beginning of medical practice and the -desirability of prudence. - -I am sure we are bound to pray for that thoughtless girlbrought up as -she has been, said Mrs. Bulstrode, wishing to rouse her husbands -feelings. - -Truly, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, assentingly. Those who are not -of this world can do little else to arrest the errors of the -obstinately worldly. That is what we must accustom ourselves to -recognize with regard to your brothers family. I could have wished -that Mr. Lydgate had not entered into such a union; but my relations -with him are limited to that use of his gifts for Gods purposes which -is taught us by the divine government under each dispensation. - -Mrs. Bulstrode said no more, attributing some dissatisfaction which she -felt to her own want of spirituality. She believed that her husband was -one of those men whose memoirs should be written when they died. - -As to Lydgate himself, having been accepted, he was prepared to accept -all the consequences which he believed himself to foresee with perfect -clearness. Of course he must be married in a yearperhaps even in half -a year. This was not what he had intended; but other schemes would not -be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew. Marriage, of -course, must be prepared for in the usual way. A house must be taken -instead of the rooms he at present occupied; and Lydgate, having heard -Rosamond speak with admiration of old Mrs. Brettons house (situated in -Lowick Gate), took notice when it fell vacant after the old ladys -death, and immediately entered into treaty for it. - -He did this in an episodic way, very much as he gave orders to his -tailor for every requisite of perfect dress, without any notion of -being extravagant. On the contrary, he would have despised any -ostentation of expense; his profession had familiarized him with all -grades of poverty, and he cared much for those who suffered hardships. -He would have behaved perfectly at a table where the sauce was served -in a jug with the handle off, and he would have remembered nothing -about a grand dinner except that a man was there who talked well. But -it had never occurred to him that he should live in any other than what -he would have called an ordinary way, with green glasses for hock, and -excellent waiting at table. In warming himself at French social -theories he had brought away no smell of scorching. We may handle even -extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-giving, -and preference for armorial bearings in our own case, link us -indissolubly with the established order. And Lydgates tendency was not -towards extreme opinions: he would have liked no barefooted doctrines, -being particular about his boots: he was no radical in relation to -anything but medical reform and the prosecution of discovery. In the -rest of practical life he walked by hereditary habit; half from that -personal pride and unreflecting egoism which I have already called -commonness, and half from that naivete which belonged to preoccupation -with favorite ideas. - -Any inward debate Lydgate had as to the consequences of this engagement -which had stolen upon him, turned on the paucity of time rather than of -money. Certainly, being in love and being expected continually by some -one who always turned out to be prettier than memory could represent -her to be, did interfere with the diligent use of spare hours which -might serve some plodding fellow of a German to make the great, -imminent discovery. This was really an argument for not deferring the -marriage too long, as he implied to Mr. Farebrother, one day that the -Vicar came to his room with some pond-products which he wanted to -examine under a better microscope than his own, and, finding Lydgates -tableful of apparatus and specimens in confusion, said sarcastically - -Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and -now he brings back chaos. - -Yes, at some stages, said Lydgate, lifting his brows and smiling, -while he began to arrange his microscope. But a better order will -begin after. - -Soon? said the Vicar. - -I hope so, really. This unsettled state of affairs uses up the time, -and when one has notions in science, every moment is an opportunity. I -feel sure that marriage must be the best thing for a man who wants to -work steadily. He has everything at home thenno teasing with personal -speculationshe can get calmness and freedom. - -You are an enviable dog, said the Vicar, to have such a -prospectRosamond, calmness and freedom, all to your share. Here am I -with nothing but my pipe and pond-animalcules. Now, are you ready? - -Lydgate did not mention to the Vicar another reason he had for wishing -to shorten the period of courtship. It was rather irritating to him, -even with the wine of love in his veins, to be obliged to mingle so -often with the family party at the Vincys, and to enter so much into -Middlemarch gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing, and general -futility. He had to be deferential when Mr. Vincy decided questions -with trenchant ignorance, especially as to those liquors which were the -best inward pickle, preserving you from the effects of bad air. Mrs. -Vincys openness and simplicity were quite unstreaked with suspicion as -to the subtle offence she might give to the taste of her intended -son-in-law; and altogether Lydgate had to confess to himself that he -was descending a little in relation to Rosamonds family. But that -exquisite creature herself suffered in the same sort of way:it was at -least one delightful thought that in marrying her, he could give her a -much-needed transplantation. - -Dear! he said to her one evening, in his gentlest tone, as he sat -down by her and looked closely at her face - -But I must first say that he had found her alone in the drawing-room, -where the great old-fashioned window, almost as large as the side of -the room, was opened to the summer scents of the garden at the back of -the house. Her father and mother were gone to a party, and the rest -were all out with the butterflies. - -Dear! your eyelids are red. - -Are they? said Rosamond. I wonder why. It was not in her nature to -pour forth wishes or grievances. They only came forth gracefully on -solicitation. - -As if you could hide it from me! said Lydgate, laying his hand -tenderly on both of hers. Dont I see a tiny drop on one of the -lashes? Things trouble you, and you dont tell me. That is unloving. - -Why should I tell you what you cannot alter? They are every-day -things:perhaps they have been a little worse lately. - -Family annoyances. Dont fear speaking. I guess them. - -Papa has been more irritable lately. Fred makes him angry, and this -morning there was a fresh quarrel because Fred threatens to throw his -whole education away, and do something quite beneath him. And besides - -Rosamond hesitated, and her cheeks were gathering a slight flush. -Lydgate had never seen her in trouble since the morning of their -engagement, and he had never felt so passionately towards her as at -this moment. He kissed the hesitating lips gently, as if to encourage -them. - -I feel that papa is not quite pleased about our engagement, Rosamond -continued, almost in a whisper; and he said last night that he should -certainly speak to you and say it must be given up. - -Will you give it up? said Lydgate, with quick energyalmost angrily. - -I never give up anything that I choose to do, said Rosamond, -recovering her calmness at the touching of this chord. - -God bless you! said Lydgate, kissing her again. This constancy of -purpose in the right place was adorable. He went on: - -It is too late now for your father to say that our engagement must be -given up. You are of age, and I claim you as mine. If anything is done -to make you unhappy,that is a reason for hastening our marriage. - -An unmistakable delight shone forth from the blue eyes that met his, -and the radiance seemed to light up all his future with mild sunshine. -Ideal happiness (of the kind known in the Arabian Nights, in which you -are invited to step from the labor and discord of the street into a -paradise where everything is given to you and nothing claimed) seemed -to be an affair of a few weeks waiting, more or less. - -Why should we defer it? he said, with ardent insistence. I have -taken the house now: everything else can soon be got readycan it not? -You will not mind about new clothes. Those can be bought afterwards. - -What original notions you clever men have! said Rosamond, dimpling -with more thorough laughter than usual at this humorous incongruity. -This is the first time I ever heard of wedding-clothes being bought -after marriage. - -But you dont mean to say you would insist on my waiting months for -the sake of clothes? said Lydgate, half thinking that Rosamond was -tormenting him prettily, and half fearing that she really shrank from -speedy marriage. Remember, we are looking forward to a better sort of -happiness even than thisbeing continually together, independent of -others, and ordering our lives as we will. Come, dear, tell me how soon -you can be altogether mine. - -There was a serious pleading in Lydgates tone, as if he felt that she -would be injuring him by any fantastic delays. Rosamond became serious -too, and slightly meditative; in fact, she was going through many -intricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in order -to give an answer that would at least be approximative. - -Six weeks would be amplesay so, Rosamond, insisted Lydgate, -releasing her hands to put his arm gently round her. - -One little hand immediately went to pat her hair, while she gave her -neck a meditative turn, and then said seriously - -There would be the house-linen and the furniture to be prepared. -Still, mamma could see to those while we were away. - -Yes, to be sure. We must be away a week or so. - -Oh, more than that! said Rosamond, earnestly. She was thinking of her -evening dresses for the visit to Sir Godwin Lydgates, which she had -long been secretly hoping for as a delightful employment of at least -one quarter of the honeymoon, even if she deferred her introduction to -the uncle who was a doctor of divinity (also a pleasing though sober -kind of rank, when sustained by blood). She looked at her lover with -some wondering remonstrance as she spoke, and he readily understood -that she might wish to lengthen the sweet time of double solitude. - -Whatever you wish, my darling, when the day is fixed. But let us take -a decided course, and put an end to any discomfort you may be -suffering. Six weeks!I am sure they would be ample. - -I could certainly hasten the work, said Rosamond. Will you, then, -mention it to papa?I think it would be better to write to him. She -blushed and looked at him as the garden flowers look at us when we walk -forth happily among them in the transcendent evening light: is there -not a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half child, in those delicate -petals which glow and breathe about the centres of deep color? - -He touched her ear and a little bit of neck under it with his lips, and -they sat quite still for many minutes which flowed by them like a small -gurgling brook with the kisses of the sun upon it. Rosamond thought -that no one could be more in love than she was; and Lydgate thought -that after all his wild mistakes and absurd credulity, he had found -perfect womanhoodfelt as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded -affection such as would be bestowed by an accomplished creature who -venerated his high musings and momentous labors and would never -interfere with them; who would create order in the home and accounts -with still magic, yet keep her fingers ready to touch the lute and -transform life into romance at any moment; who was instructed to the -true womanly limit and not a hairs-breadth beyonddocile, therefore, -and ready to carry out behests which came from that limit. It was -plainer now than ever that his notion of remaining much longer a -bachelor had been a mistake: marriage would not be an obstruction but a -furtherance. And happening the next day to accompany a patient to -Brassing, he saw a dinner-service there which struck him as so exactly -the right thing that he bought it at once. It saved time to do these -things just when you thought of them, and Lydgate hated ugly crockery. -The dinner-service in question was expensive, but that might be in the -nature of dinner-services. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; but -then it had to be done only once. - -It must be lovely, said Mrs. Vincy, when Lydgate mentioned his -purchase with some descriptive touches. Just what Rosy ought to have. -I trust in heaven it wont be broken! - -One must hire servants who will not break things, said Lydgate. -(Certainly, this was reasoning with an imperfect vision of sequences. -But at that period there was no sort of reasoning which was not more or -less sanctioned by men of science.) - -Of course it was unnecessary to defer the mention of anything to mamma, -who did not readily take views that were not cheerful, and being a -happy wife herself, had hardly any feeling but pride in her daughters -marriage. But Rosamond had good reasons for suggesting to Lydgate that -papa should be appealed to in writing. She prepared for the arrival of -the letter by walking with her papa to the warehouse the next morning, -and telling him on the way that Mr. Lydgate wished to be married soon. - -Nonsense, my dear! said Mr. Vincy. What has he got to marry on? -Youd much better give up the engagement. Ive told you so pretty -plainly before this. What have you had such an education for, if you -are to go and marry a poor man? Its a cruel thing for a father to -see. - -Mr. Lydgate is not poor, papa. He bought Mr. Peacocks practice, -which, they say, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year. - -Stuff and nonsense! Whats buying a practice? He might as well buy -next years swallows. Itll all slip through his fingers. - -On the contrary, papa, he will increase the practice. See how he has -been called in by the Chettams and Casaubons. - -I hope he knows I shant give anythingwith this disappointment about -Fred, and Parliament going to be dissolved, and machine-breaking -everywhere, and an election coming on - -Dear papa! what can that have to do with my marriage? - -A pretty deal to do with it! We may all be ruined for what I knowthe -countrys in that state! Some say its the end of the world, and be -hanged if I dont think it looks like it! Anyhow, its not a time for -me to be drawing money out of my business, and I should wish Lydgate to -know that. - -I am sure he expects nothing, papa. And he has such very high -connections: he is sure to rise in one way or another. He is engaged in -making scientific discoveries. - -Mr. Vincy was silent. - -I cannot give up my only prospect of happiness, papa. Mr. Lydgate is a -gentleman. I could never love any one who was not a perfect gentleman. -You would not like me to go into a consumption, as Arabella Hawley did. -And you know that I never change my mind. - -Again papa was silent. - -Promise me, papa, that you will consent to what we wish. We shall -never give each other up; and you know that you have always objected to -long courtships and late marriages. - -There was a little more urgency of this kind, till Mr. Vincy said, -Well, well, child, he must write to me first before I can answer -him,and Rosamond was certain that she had gained her point. - -Mr. Vincys answer consisted chiefly in a demand that Lydgate should -insure his lifea demand immediately conceded. This was a delightfully -reassuring idea supposing that Lydgate died, but in the mean time not a -self-supporting idea. However, it seemed to make everything comfortable -about Rosamonds marriage; and the necessary purchases went on with -much spirit. Not without prudential considerations, however. A bride -(who is going to visit at a baronets) must have a few first-rate -pocket-handkerchiefs; but beyond the absolutely necessary half-dozen, -Rosamond contented herself without the very highest style of embroidery -and Valenciennes. Lydgate also, finding that his sum of eight hundred -pounds had been considerably reduced since he had come to Middlemarch, -restrained his inclination for some plate of an old pattern which was -shown to him when he went into Kibbles establishment at Brassing to -buy forks and spoons. He was too proud to act as if he presupposed that -Mr. Vincy would advance money to provide furniture; and though, since -it would not be necessary to pay for everything at once, some bills -would be left standing over, he did not waste time in conjecturing how -much his father-in-law would give in the form of dowry, to make payment -easy. He was not going to do anything extravagant, but the requisite -things must be bought, and it would be bad economy to buy them of a -poor quality. All these matters were by the bye. Lydgate foresaw that -science and his profession were the objects he should alone pursue -enthusiastically; but he could not imagine himself pursuing them in -such a home as Wrench hadthe doors all open, the oil-cloth worn, the -children in soiled pinafores, and lunch lingering in the form of bones, -black-handled knives, and willow-pattern. But Wrench had a wretched -lymphatic wife who made a mummy of herself indoors in a large shawl; -and he must have altogether begun with an ill-chosen domestic -apparatus. - -Rosamond, however, was on her side much occupied with conjectures, -though her quick imitative perception warned her against betraying them -too crudely. - -I shall like so much to know your family, she said one day, when the -wedding journey was being discussed. We might perhaps take a direction -that would allow us to see them as we returned. Which of your uncles do -you like best? - -Oh,my uncle Godwin, I think. He is a good-natured old fellow. - -You were constantly at his house at Quallingham, when you were a boy, -were you not? I should so like to see the old spot and everything you -were used to. Does he know you are going to be married? - -No, said Lydgate, carelessly, turning in his chair and rubbing his -hair up. - -Do send him word of it, you naughty undutiful nephew. He will perhaps -ask you to take me to Quallingham; and then you could show me about the -grounds, and I could imagine you there when you were a boy. Remember, -you see me in my home, just as it has been since I was a child. It is -not fair that I should be so ignorant of yours. But perhaps you would -be a little ashamed of me. I forgot that. - -Lydgate smiled at her tenderly, and really accepted the suggestion that -the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some -trouble. And now he came to think of it, he would like to see the old -spots with Rosamond. - -I will write to him, then. But my cousins are bores. - -It seemed magnificent to Rosamond to be able to speak so slightingly of -a baronets family, and she felt much contentment in the prospect of -being able to estimate them contemptuously on her own account. - -But mamma was near spoiling all, a day or two later, by saying - -I hope your uncle Sir Godwin will not look down on Rosy, Mr. Lydgate. -I should think he would do something handsome. A thousand or two can be -nothing to a baronet. - -Mamma! said Rosamond, blushing deeply; and Lydgate pitied her so much -that he remained silent and went to the other end of the room to -examine a print curiously, as if he had been absent-minded. Mamma had a -little filial lecture afterwards, and was docile as usual. But Rosamond -reflected that if any of those high-bred cousins who were bores, should -be induced to visit Middlemarch, they would see many things in her own -family which might shock them. Hence it seemed desirable that Lydgate -should by-and-by get some first-rate position elsewhere than in -Middlemarch; and this could hardly be difficult in the case of a man -who had a titled uncle and could make discoveries. Lydgate, you -perceive, had talked fervidly to Rosamond of his hopes as to the -highest uses of his life, and had found it delightful to be listened to -by a creature who would bring him the sweet furtherance of satisfying -affectionbeautyreposesuch help as our thoughts get from the summer -sky and the flower-fringed meadows. - -Lydgate relied much on the psychological difference between what for -the sake of variety I will call goose and gander: especially on the -innate submissiveness of the goose as beautifully corresponding to the -strength of the gander. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - -Thrice happy she that is so well assured -Unto herself and settled so in heart -That neither will for better be allured -Ne fears to worse with any chance to start, -But like a steddy ship doth strongly part -The raging waves and keeps her course aright; -Ne aught for tempest doth from it depart, -Ne aught for fairer weathers false delight. -Such self-assurance need not fear the spight -Of grudging foes; ne favour seek of friends; -But in the stay of her own stedfast might -Neither to one herself nor other bends. - Most happy she that most assured doth rest, - But he most happy who such one loves best. -SPENSER. - - -The doubt hinted by Mr. Vincy whether it were only the general election -or the end of the world that was coming on, now that George the Fourth -was dead, Parliament dissolved, Wellington and Peel generally -depreciated and the new King apologetic, was a feeble type of the -uncertainties in provincial opinion at that time. With the glow-worm -lights of country places, how could men see which were their own -thoughts in the confusion of a Tory Ministry passing Liberal measures, -of Tory nobles and electors being anxious to return Liberals rather -than friends of the recreant Ministers, and of outcries for remedies -which seemed to have a mysteriously remote bearing on private interest, -and were made suspicious by the advocacy of disagreeable neighbors? -Buyers of the Middlemarch newspapers found themselves in an anomalous -position: during the agitation on the Catholic Question many had given -up the Pioneerwhich had a motto from Charles James Fox and was in -the van of progressbecause it had taken Peels side about the Papists, -and had thus blotted its Liberalism with a toleration of Jesuitry and -Baal; but they were ill-satisfied with the Trumpet, whichsince its -blasts against Rome, and in the general flaccidity of the public mind -(nobody knowing who would support whom)had become feeble in its -blowing. - -It was a time, according to a noticeable article in the Pioneer, when -the crying needs of the country might well counteract a reluctance to -public action on the part of men whose minds had from long experience -acquired breadth as well as concentration, decision of judgment as well -as tolerance, dispassionateness as well as energyin fact, all those -qualities which in the melancholy experience of mankind have been the -least disposed to share lodgings. - -Mr. Hackbutt, whose fluent speech was at that time floating more widely -than usual, and leaving much uncertainty as to its ultimate channel, -was heard to say in Mr. Hawleys office that the article in question -emanated from Brooke of Tipton, and that Brooke had secretly bought -the Pioneer some months ago. - -That means mischief, eh? said Mr. Hawley. Hes got the freak of -being a popular man now, after dangling about like a stray tortoise. So -much the worse for him. Ive had my eye on him for some time. He shall -be prettily pumped upon. Hes a damned bad landlord. What business has -an old county man to come currying favor with a low set of dark-blue -freemen? As to his paper, I only hope he may do the writing himself. It -would be worth our paying for. - -I understand he has got a very brilliant young fellow to edit it, who -can write the highest style of leading article, quite equal to anything -in the London papers. And he means to take very high ground on Reform. - -Let Brooke reform his rent-roll. Hes a cursed old screw, and the -buildings all over his estate are going to rack. I suppose this young -fellow is some loose fish from London. - -His name is Ladislaw. He is said to be of foreign extraction. - -I know the sort, said Mr. Hawley; some emissary. Hell begin with -flourishing about the Rights of Man and end with murdering a wench. -Thats the style. - -You must concede that there are abuses, Hawley, said Mr. Hackbutt, -foreseeing some political disagreement with his family lawyer. I -myself should never favor immoderate viewsin fact I take my stand with -Huskissonbut I cannot blind myself to the consideration that the -non-representation of large towns - -Large towns be damned! said Mr. Hawley, impatient of exposition. I -know a little too much about Middlemarch elections. Let em quash every -pocket borough to-morrow, and bring in every mushroom town in the -kingdomtheyll only increase the expense of getting into Parliament. I -go upon facts. - -Mr. Hawleys disgust at the notion of the Pioneer being edited by an -emissary, and of Brooke becoming actively politicalas if a tortoise of -desultory pursuits should protrude its small head ambitiously and -become rampantwas hardly equal to the annoyance felt by some members -of Mr. Brookes own family. The result had oozed forth gradually, like -the discovery that your neighbor has set up an unpleasant kind of -manufacture which will be permanently under your nostrils without legal -remedy. The Pioneer had been secretly bought even before Will -Ladislaws arrival, the expected opportunity having offered itself in -the readiness of the proprietor to part with a valuable property which -did not pay; and in the interval since Mr. Brooke had written his -invitation, those germinal ideas of making his mind tell upon the world -at large which had been present in him from his younger years, but had -hitherto lain in some obstruction, had been sprouting under cover. - -The development was much furthered by a delight in his guest which -proved greater even than he had anticipated. For it seemed that Will -was not only at home in all those artistic and literary subjects which -Mr. Brooke had gone into at one time, but that he was strikingly ready -at seizing the points of the political situation, and dealing with them -in that large spirit which, aided by adequate memory, lends itself to -quotation and general effectiveness of treatment. - -He seems to me a kind of Shelley, you know, Mr. Brooke took an -opportunity of saying, for the gratification of Mr. Casaubon. I dont -mean as to anything objectionablelaxities or atheism, or anything of -that kind, you knowLadislaws sentiments in every way I am sure are -goodindeed, we were talking a great deal together last night. But he -has the same sort of enthusiasm for liberty, freedom, emancipationa -fine thing under guidanceunder guidance, you know. I think I shall be -able to put him on the right tack; and I am the more pleased because he -is a relation of yours, Casaubon. - -If the right tack implied anything more precise than the rest of Mr. -Brookes speech, Mr. Casaubon silently hoped that it referred to some -occupation at a great distance from Lowick. He had disliked Will while -he helped him, but he had begun to dislike him still more now that Will -had declined his help. That is the way with us when we have any uneasy -jealousy in our disposition: if our talents are chiefly of the -burrowing kind, our honey-sipping cousin (whom we have grave reasons -for objecting to) is likely to have a secret contempt for us, and any -one who admires him passes an oblique criticism on ourselves. Having -the scruples of rectitude in our souls, we are above the meanness of -injuring himrather we meet all his claims on us by active benefits; -and the drawing of cheques for him, being a superiority which he must -recognize, gives our bitterness a milder infusion. Now Mr. Casaubon had -been deprived of that superiority (as anything more than a remembrance) -in a sudden, capricious manner. His antipathy to Will did not spring -from the common jealousy of a winter-worn husband: it was something -deeper, bred by his lifelong claims and discontents; but Dorothea, now -that she was presentDorothea, as a young wife who herself had shown an -offensive capability of criticism, necessarily gave concentration to -the uneasiness which had before been vague. - -Will Ladislaw on his side felt that his dislike was flourishing at the -expense of his gratitude, and spent much inward discourse in justifying -the dislike. Casaubon hated himhe knew that very well; on his first -entrance he could discern a bitterness in the mouth and a venom in the -glance which would almost justify declaring war in spite of past -benefits. He was much obliged to Casaubon in the past, but really the -act of marrying this wife was a set-off against the obligation. It was -a question whether gratitude which refers to what is done for ones -self ought not to give way to indignation at what is done against -another. And Casaubon had done a wrong to Dorothea in marrying her. A -man was bound to know himself better than that, and if he chose to grow -gray crunching bones in a cavern, he had no business to be luring a -girl into his companionship. It is the most horrible of -virgin-sacrifices, said Will; and he painted to himself what were -Dorotheas inward sorrows as if he had been writing a choric wail. But -he would never lose sight of her: he would watch over herif he gave up -everything else in life he would watch over her, and she should know -that she had one slave in the world. Will hadto use Sir Thomas -Brownes phrasea passionate prodigality of statement both to himself -and others. The simple truth was that nothing then invited him so -strongly as the presence of Dorothea. - -Invitations of the formal kind had been wanting, however, for Will had -never been asked to go to Lowick. Mr. Brooke, indeed, confident of -doing everything agreeable which Casaubon, poor fellow, was too much -absorbed to think of, had arranged to bring Ladislaw to Lowick several -times (not neglecting meanwhile to introduce him elsewhere on every -opportunity as a young relative of Casaubons). And though Will had -not seen Dorothea alone, their interviews had been enough to restore -her former sense of young companionship with one who was cleverer than -herself, yet seemed ready to be swayed by her. Poor Dorothea before her -marriage had never found much room in other minds for what she cared -most to say; and she had not, as we know, enjoyed her husbands -superior instruction so much as she had expected. If she spoke with any -keenness of interest to Mr. Casaubon, he heard her with an air of -patience as if she had given a quotation from the Delectus familiar to -him from his tender years, and sometimes mentioned curtly what ancient -sects or personages had held similar ideas, as if there were too much -of that sort in stock already; at other times he would inform her that -she was mistaken, and reassert what her remark had questioned. - -But Will Ladislaw always seemed to see more in what she said than she -herself saw. Dorothea had little vanity, but she had the ardent womans -need to rule beneficently by making the joy of another soul. Hence the -mere chance of seeing Will occasionally was like a lunette opened in -the wall of her prison, giving her a glimpse of the sunny air; and this -pleasure began to nullify her original alarm at what her husband might -think about the introduction of Will as her uncles guest. On this -subject Mr. Casaubon had remained dumb. - -But Will wanted to talk with Dorothea alone, and was impatient of slow -circumstance. However slight the terrestrial intercourse between Dante -and Beatrice or Petrarch and Laura, time changes the proportion of -things, and in later days it is preferable to have fewer sonnets and -more conversation. Necessity excused stratagem, but stratagem was -limited by the dread of offending Dorothea. He found out at last that -he wanted to take a particular sketch at Lowick; and one morning when -Mr. Brooke had to drive along the Lowick road on his way to the county -town, Will asked to be set down with his sketch-book and camp-stool at -Lowick, and without announcing himself at the Manor settled himself to -sketch in a position where he must see Dorothea if she came out to -walkand he knew that she usually walked an hour in the morning. - -But the stratagem was defeated by the weather. Clouds gathered with -treacherous quickness, the rain came down, and Will was obliged to take -shelter in the house. He intended, on the strength of relationship, to -go into the drawing-room and wait there without being announced; and -seeing his old acquaintance the butler in the hall, he said, Dont -mention that I am here, Pratt; I will wait till luncheon; I know Mr. -Casaubon does not like to be disturbed when he is in the library. - -Master is out, sir; theres only Mrs. Casaubon in the library. Id -better tell her youre here, sir, said Pratt, a red-cheeked man given -to lively converse with Tantripp, and often agreeing with her that it -must be dull for Madam. - -Oh, very well; this confounded rain has hindered me from sketching, -said Will, feeling so happy that he affected indifference with -delightful ease. - -In another minute he was in the library, and Dorothea was meeting him -with her sweet unconstrained smile. - -Mr. Casaubon has gone to the Archdeacons, she said, at once. I -dont know whether he will be at home again long before dinner. He was -uncertain how long he should be. Did you want to say anything -particular to him? - -No; I came to sketch, but the rain drove me in. Else I would not have -disturbed you yet. I supposed that Mr. Casaubon was here, and I know he -dislikes interruption at this hour. - -I am indebted to the rain, then. I am so glad to see you. Dorothea -uttered these common words with the simple sincerity of an unhappy -child, visited at school. - -I really came for the chance of seeing you alone, said Will, -mysteriously forced to be just as simple as she was. He could not stay -to ask himself, why not? I wanted to talk about things, as we did in -Rome. It always makes a difference when other people are present. - -Yes, said Dorothea, in her clear full tone of assent. Sit down. She -seated herself on a dark ottoman with the brown books behind her, -looking in her plain dress of some thin woollen-white material, without -a single ornament on her besides her wedding-ring, as if she were under -a vow to be different from all other women; and Will sat down opposite -her at two yards distance, the light falling on his bright curls and -delicate but rather petulant profile, with its defiant curves of lip -and chin. Each looked at the other as if they had been two flowers -which had opened then and there. Dorothea for the moment forgot her -husbands mysterious irritation against Will: it seemed fresh water at -her thirsty lips to speak without fear to the one person whom she had -found receptive; for in looking backward through sadness she -exaggerated a past solace. - -I have often thought that I should like to talk to you again, she -said, immediately. It seems strange to me how many things I said to -you. - -I remember them all, said Will, with the unspeakable content in his -soul of feeling that he was in the presence of a creature worthy to be -perfectly loved. I think his own feelings at that moment were perfect, -for we mortals have our divine moments, when love is satisfied in the -completeness of the beloved object. - -I have tried to learn a great deal since we were in Rome, said -Dorothea. I can read Latin a little, and I am beginning to understand -just a little Greek. I can help Mr. Casaubon better now. I can find out -references for him and save his eyes in many ways. But it is very -difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way -to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too -tired. - -If a man has a capacity for great thoughts, he is likely to overtake -them before he is decrepit, said Will, with irrepressible quickness. -But through certain sensibilities Dorothea was as quick as he, and -seeing her face change, he added, immediately, But it is quite true -that the best minds have been sometimes overstrained in working out -their ideas. - -You correct me, said Dorothea. I expressed myself ill. I should have -said that those who have great thoughts get too much worn in working -them out. I used to feel about that, even when I was a little girl; and -it always seemed to me that the use I should like to make of my life -would be to help some one who did great works, so that his burthen -might be lighter. - -Dorothea was led on to this bit of autobiography without any sense of -making a revelation. But she had never before said anything to Will -which threw so strong a light on her marriage. He did not shrug his -shoulders; and for want of that muscular outlet he thought the more -irritably of beautiful lips kissing holy skulls and other emptinesses -ecclesiastically enshrined. Also he had to take care that his speech -should not betray that thought. - -But you may easily carry the help too far, he said, and get -over-wrought yourself. Are you not too much shut up? You already look -paler. It would be better for Mr. Casaubon to have a secretary; he -could easily get a man who would do half his work for him. It would -save him more effectually, and you need only help him in lighter ways. - -How can you think of that? said Dorothea, in a tone of earnest -remonstrance. I should have no happiness if I did not help him in his -work. What could I do? There is no good to be done in Lowick. The only -thing I desire is to help him more. And he objects to a secretary: -please not to mention that again. - -Certainly not, now I know your feeling. But I have heard both Mr. -Brooke and Sir James Chettam express the same wish. - -Yes, said Dorothea, but they dont understandthey want me to be a -great deal on horseback, and have the garden altered and new -conservatories, to fill up my days. I thought you could understand that -ones mind has other wants, she added, rather impatientlybesides, -Mr. Casaubon cannot bear to hear of a secretary. - -My mistake is excusable, said Will. In old days I used to hear Mr. -Casaubon speak as if he looked forward to having a secretary. Indeed he -held out the prospect of that office to me. But I turned out to benot -good enough for it. - -Dorothea was trying to extract out of this an excuse for her husbands -evident repulsion, as she said, with a playful smile, You were not a -steady worker enough. - -No, said Will, shaking his head backward somewhat after the manner of -a spirited horse. And then, the old irritable demon prompting him to -give another good pinch at the moth-wings of poor Mr. Casaubons glory, -he went on, And I have seen since that Mr. Casaubon does not like any -one to overlook his work and know thoroughly what he is doing. He is -too doubtfultoo uncertain of himself. I may not be good for much, but -he dislikes me because I disagree with him. - -Will was not without his intentions to be always generous, but our -tongues are little triggers which have usually been pulled before -general intentions can be brought to bear. And it was too intolerable -that Casaubons dislike of him should not be fairly accounted for to -Dorothea. Yet when he had spoken he was rather uneasy as to the effect -on her. - -But Dorothea was strangely quietnot immediately indignant, as she had -been on a like occasion in Rome. And the cause lay deep. She was no -longer struggling against the perception of facts, but adjusting -herself to their clearest perception; and now when she looked steadily -at her husbands failure, still more at his possible consciousness of -failure, she seemed to be looking along the one track where duty became -tenderness. Wills want of reticence might have been met with more -severity, if he had not already been recommended to her mercy by her -husbands dislike, which must seem hard to her till she saw better -reason for it. - -She did not answer at once, but after looking down ruminatingly she -said, with some earnestness, Mr. Casaubon must have overcome his -dislike of you so far as his actions were concerned: and that is -admirable. - -Yes; he has shown a sense of justice in family matters. It was an -abominable thing that my grandmother should have been disinherited -because she made what they called a _mesalliance_, though there was -nothing to be said against her husband except that he was a Polish -refugee who gave lessons for his bread. - -I wish I knew all about her! said Dorothea. I wonder how she bore -the change from wealth to poverty: I wonder whether she was happy with -her husband! Do you know much about them? - -No; only that my grandfather was a patriota bright fellowcould speak -many languagesmusicalgot his bread by teaching all sorts of things. -They both died rather early. And I never knew much of my father, beyond -what my mother told me; but he inherited the musical talents. I -remember his slow walk and his long thin hands; and one day remains -with me when he was lying ill, and I was very hungry, and had only a -little bit of bread. - -Ah, what a different life from mine! said Dorothea, with keen -interest, clasping her hands on her lap. I have always had too much of -everything. But tell me how it wasMr. Casaubon could not have known -about you then. - -No; but my father had made himself known to Mr. Casaubon, and that was -my last hungry day. My father died soon after, and my mother and I were -well taken care of. Mr. Casaubon always expressly recognized it as his -duty to take care of us because of the harsh injustice which had been -shown to his mothers sister. But now I am telling you what is not new -to you. - -In his inmost soul Will was conscious of wishing to tell Dorothea what -was rather new even in his own construction of thingsnamely, that Mr. -Casaubon had never done more than pay a debt towards him. Will was much -too good a fellow to be easy under the sense of being ungrateful. And -when gratitude has become a matter of reasoning there are many ways of -escaping from its bonds. - -No, answered Dorothea; Mr. Casaubon has always avoided dwelling on -his own honorable actions. She did not feel that her husbands conduct -was depreciated; but this notion of what justice had required in his -relations with Will Ladislaw took strong hold on her mind. After a -moments pause, she added, He had never told me that he supported your -mother. Is she still living? - -No; she died by an accidenta fallfour years ago. It is curious that -my mother, too, ran away from her family, but not for the sake of her -husband. She never would tell me anything about her family, except that -she forsook them to get her own livingwent on the stage, in fact. She -was a dark-eyed creature, with crisp ringlets, and never seemed to be -getting old. You see I come of rebellious blood on both sides, Will -ended, smiling brightly at Dorothea, while she was still looking with -serious intentness before her, like a child seeing a drama for the -first time. - -But her face, too, broke into a smile as she said, That is your -apology, I suppose, for having yourself been rather rebellious; I mean, -to Mr. Casaubons wishes. You must remember that you have not done what -he thought best for you. And if he dislikes youyou were speaking of -dislike a little while agobut I should rather say, if he has shown any -painful feelings towards you, you must consider how sensitive he has -become from the wearing effect of study. Perhaps, she continued, -getting into a pleading tone, my uncle has not told you how serious -Mr. Casaubons illness was. It would be very petty of us who are well -and can bear things, to think much of small offences from those who -carry a weight of trial. - -You teach me better, said Will. I will never grumble on that subject -again. There was a gentleness in his tone which came from the -unutterable contentment of perceivingwhat Dorothea was hardly -conscious ofthat she was travelling into the remoteness of pure pity -and loyalty towards her husband. Will was ready to adore her pity and -loyalty, if she would associate himself with her in manifesting them. -I have really sometimes been a perverse fellow, he went on, but I -will never again, if I can help it, do or say what you would -disapprove. - -That is very good of you, said Dorothea, with another open smile. I -shall have a little kingdom then, where I shall give laws. But you will -soon go away, out of my rule, I imagine. You will soon be tired of -staying at the Grange. - -That is a point I wanted to mention to youone of the reasons why I -wished to speak to you alone. Mr. Brooke proposes that I should stay in -this neighborhood. He has bought one of the Middlemarch newspapers, and -he wishes me to conduct that, and also to help him in other ways. - -Would not that be a sacrifice of higher prospects for you? said -Dorothea. - -Perhaps; but I have always been blamed for thinking of prospects, and -not settling to anything. And here is something offered to me. If you -would not like me to accept it, I will give it up. Otherwise I would -rather stay in this part of the country than go away. I belong to -nobody anywhere else. - -I should like you to stay very much, said Dorothea, at once, as -simply and readily as she had spoken at Rome. There was not the shadow -of a reason in her mind at the moment why she should not say so. - -Then I _will_ stay, said Ladislaw, shaking his head backward, rising -and going towards the window, as if to see whether the rain had ceased. - -But the next moment, Dorothea, according to a habit which was getting -continually stronger, began to reflect that her husband felt -differently from herself, and she colored deeply under the double -embarrassment of having expressed what might be in opposition to her -husbands feeling, and of having to suggest this opposition to Will. -His face was not turned towards her, and this made it easier to say - -But my opinion is of little consequence on such a subject. I think you -should be guided by Mr. Casaubon. I spoke without thinking of anything -else than my own feeling, which has nothing to do with the real -question. But it now occurs to meperhaps Mr. Casaubon might see that -the proposal was not wise. Can you not wait now and mention it to him? - -I cant wait to-day, said Will, inwardly seared by the possibility -that Mr. Casaubon would enter. The rain is quite over now. I told Mr. -Brooke not to call for me: I would rather walk the five miles. I shall -strike across Halsell Common, and see the gleams on the wet grass. I -like that. - -He approached her to shake hands quite hurriedly, longing but not -daring to say, Dont mention the subject to Mr. Casaubon. No, he -dared not, could not say it. To ask her to be less simple and direct -would be like breathing on the crystal that you want to see the light -through. And there was always the other great dreadof himself becoming -dimmed and forever ray-shorn in her eyes. - -I wish you could have stayed, said Dorothea, with a touch of -mournfulness, as she rose and put out her hand. She also had her -thought which she did not like to express:Will certainly ought to lose -no time in consulting Mr. Casaubons wishes, but for her to urge this -might seem an undue dictation. - -So they only said Good-by, and Will quitted the house, striking -across the fields so as not to run any risk of encountering Mr. -Casaubons carriage, which, however, did not appear at the gate until -four oclock. That was an unpropitious hour for coming home: it was too -early to gain the moral support under ennui of dressing his person for -dinner, and too late to undress his mind of the days frivolous -ceremony and affairs, so as to be prepared for a good plunge into the -serious business of study. On such occasions he usually threw into an -easy-chair in the library, and allowed Dorothea to read the London -papers to him, closing his eyes the while. To-day, however, he declined -that relief, observing that he had already had too many public details -urged upon him; but he spoke more cheerfully than usual, when Dorothea -asked about his fatigue, and added with that air of formal effort which -never forsook him even when he spoke without his waistcoat and cravat - -I have had the gratification of meeting my former acquaintance, Dr. -Spanning, to-day, and of being praised by one who is himself a worthy -recipient of praise. He spoke very handsomely of my late tractate on -the Egyptian Mysteries,using, in fact, terms which it would not become -me to repeat. In uttering the last clause, Mr. Casaubon leaned over -the elbow of his chair, and swayed his head up and down, apparently as -a muscular outlet instead of that recapitulation which would not have -been becoming. - -I am very glad you have had that pleasure, said Dorothea, delighted -to see her husband less weary than usual at this hour. Before you came -I had been regretting that you happened to be out to-day. - -Why so, my dear? said Mr. Casaubon, throwing himself backward again. - -Because Mr. Ladislaw has been here; and he has mentioned a proposal of -my uncles which I should like to know your opinion of. Her husband -she felt was really concerned in this question. Even with her ignorance -of the world she had a vague impression that the position offered to -Will was out of keeping with his family connections, and certainly Mr. -Casaubon had a claim to be consulted. He did not speak, but merely -bowed. - -Dear uncle, you know, has many projects. It appears that he has bought -one of the Middlemarch newspapers, and he has asked Mr. Ladislaw to -stay in this neighborhood and conduct the paper for him, besides -helping him in other ways. - -Dorothea looked at her husband while she spoke, but he had at first -blinked and finally closed his eyes, as if to save them; while his lips -became more tense. What is your opinion? she added, rather timidly, -after a slight pause. - -Did Mr. Ladislaw come on purpose to ask my opinion? said Mr. -Casaubon, opening his eyes narrowly with a knife-edged look at -Dorothea. She was really uncomfortable on the point he inquired about, -but she only became a little more serious, and her eyes did not swerve. - -No, she answered immediately, he did not say that he came to ask -your opinion. But when he mentioned the proposal, he of course expected -me to tell you of it. - -Mr. Casaubon was silent. - -I feared that you might feel some objection. But certainly a young man -with so much talent might be very useful to my unclemight help him to -do good in a better way. And Mr. Ladislaw wishes to have some fixed -occupation. He has been blamed, he says, for not seeking something of -that kind, and he would like to stay in this neighborhood because no -one cares for him elsewhere. - -Dorothea felt that this was a consideration to soften her husband. -However, he did not speak, and she presently recurred to Dr. Spanning -and the Archdeacons breakfast. But there was no longer sunshine on -these subjects. - -The next morning, without Dorotheas knowledge, Mr. Casaubon despatched -the following letter, beginning Dear Mr. Ladislaw (he had always -before addressed him as Will): - -Mrs. Casaubon informs me that a proposal has been made to you, and -(according to an inference by no means stretched) has on your part been -in some degree entertained, which involves your residence in this -neighborhood in a capacity which I am justified in saying touches my -own position in such a way as renders it not only natural and -warrantable in me when that effect is viewed under the influence of -legitimate feeling, but incumbent on me when the same effect is -considered in the light of my responsibilities, to state at once that -your acceptance of the proposal above indicated would be highly -offensive to me. That I have some claim to the exercise of a veto here, -would not, I believe, be denied by any reasonable person cognizant of -the relations between us: relations which, though thrown into the past -by your recent procedure, are not thereby annulled in their character -of determining antecedents. I will not here make reflections on any -persons judgment. It is enough for me to point out to yourself that -there are certain social fitnesses and proprieties which should hinder -a somewhat near relative of mine from becoming any wise conspicuous in -this vicinity in a status not only much beneath my own, but associated -at best with the sciolism of literary or political adventurers. At any -rate, the contrary issue must exclude you from further reception at my -house. - - -Yours faithfully, -EDWARD CASAUBON. - - -Meanwhile Dorotheas mind was innocently at work towards the further -embitterment of her husband; dwelling, with a sympathy that grew to -agitation, on what Will had told her about his parents and -grandparents. Any private hours in her day were usually spent in her -blue-green boudoir, and she had come to be very fond of its pallid -quaintness. Nothing had been outwardly altered there; but while the -summer had gradually advanced over the western fields beyond the avenue -of elms, the bare room had gathered within it those memories of an -inward life which fill the air as with a cloud of good or bad angels, -the invisible yet active forms of our spiritual triumphs or our -spiritual falls. She had been so used to struggle for and to find -resolve in looking along the avenue towards the arch of western light -that the vision itself had gained a communicating power. Even the pale -stag seemed to have reminding glances and to mean mutely, Yes, we -know. And the group of delicately touched miniatures had made an -audience as of beings no longer disturbed about their own earthly lot, -but still humanly interested. Especially the mysterious Aunt Julia -about whom Dorothea had never found it easy to question her husband. - -And now, since her conversation with Will, many fresh images had -gathered round that Aunt Julia who was Wills grandmother; the presence -of that delicate miniature, so like a living face that she knew, -helping to concentrate her feelings. What a wrong, to cut off the girl -from the family protection and inheritance only because she had chosen -a man who was poor! Dorothea, early troubling her elders with questions -about the facts around her, had wrought herself into some independent -clearness as to the historical, political reasons why eldest sons had -superior rights, and why land should be entailed: those reasons, -impressing her with a certain awe, might be weightier than she knew, -but here was a question of ties which left them uninfringed. Here was a -daughter whose childeven according to the ordinary aping of -aristocratic institutions by people who are no more aristocratic than -retired grocers, and who have no more land to keep together than a -lawn and a paddockwould have a prior claim. Was inheritance a question -of liking or of responsibility? All the energy of Dorotheas nature -went on the side of responsibilitythe fulfilment of claims founded on -our own deeds, such as marriage and parentage. - -It was true, she said to herself, that Mr. Casaubon had a debt to the -Ladislawsthat he had to pay back what the Ladislaws had been wronged -of. And now she began to think of her husbands will, which had been -made at the time of their marriage, leaving the bulk of his property to -her, with proviso in case of her having children. That ought to be -altered; and no time ought to be lost. This very question which had -just arisen about Will Ladislaws occupation, was the occasion for -placing things on a new, right footing. Her husband, she felt sure, -according to all his previous conduct, would be ready to take the just -view, if she proposed itshe, in whose interest an unfair concentration -of the property had been urged. His sense of right had surmounted and -would continue to surmount anything that might be called antipathy. She -suspected that her uncles scheme was disapproved by Mr. Casaubon, and -this made it seem all the more opportune that a fresh understanding -should be begun, so that instead of Wills starting penniless and -accepting the first function that offered itself, he should find -himself in possession of a rightful income which should be paid by her -husband during his life, and, by an immediate alteration of the will, -should be secured at his death. The vision of all this as what ought to -be done seemed to Dorothea like a sudden letting in of daylight, waking -her from her previous stupidity and incurious self-absorbed ignorance -about her husbands relation to others. Will Ladislaw had refused Mr. -Casaubons future aid on a ground that no longer appeared right to her; -and Mr. Casaubon had never himself seen fully what was the claim upon -him. But he will! said Dorothea. The great strength of his character -lies here. And what are we doing with our money? We make no use of half -of our income. My own money buys me nothing but an uneasy conscience. - -There was a peculiar fascination for Dorothea in this division of -property intended for herself, and always regarded by her as excessive. -She was blind, you see, to many things obvious to otherslikely to -tread in the wrong places, as Celia had warned her; yet her blindness -to whatever did not lie in her own pure purpose carried her safely by -the side of precipices where vision would have been perilous with fear. - -The thoughts which had gathered vividness in the solitude of her -boudoir occupied her incessantly through the day on which Mr. Casaubon -had sent his letter to Will. Everything seemed hindrance to her till -she could find an opportunity of opening her heart to her husband. To -his preoccupied mind all subjects were to be approached gently, and she -had never since his illness lost from her consciousness the dread of -agitating him. But when young ardor is set brooding over the conception -of a prompt deed, the deed itself seems to start forth with independent -life, mastering ideal obstacles. The day passed in a sombre fashion, -not unusual, though Mr. Casaubon was perhaps unusually silent; but -there were hours of the night which might be counted on as -opportunities of conversation; for Dorothea, when aware of her -husbands sleeplessness, had established a habit of rising, lighting a -candle, and reading him to sleep again. And this night she was from the -beginning sleepless, excited by resolves. He slept as usual for a few -hours, but she had risen softly and had sat in the darkness for nearly -an hour before he said - -Dorothea, since you are up, will you light a candle? - -Do you feel ill, dear? was her first question, as she obeyed him. - -No, not at all; but I shall be obliged, since you are up, if you will -read me a few pages of Lowth. - -May I talk to you a little instead? said Dorothea. - -Certainly. - -I have been thinking about money all daythat I have always had too -much, and especially the prospect of too much. - -These, my dear Dorothea, are providential arrangements. - -But if one has too much in consequence of others being wronged, it -seems to me that the divine voice which tells us to set that wrong -right must be obeyed. - -What, my love, is the bearing of your remark? - -That you have been too liberal in arrangements for meI mean, with -regard to property; and that makes me unhappy. - -How so? I have none but comparatively distant connections. - -I have been led to think about your aunt Julia, and how she was left -in poverty only because she married a poor man, an act which was not -disgraceful, since he was not unworthy. It was on that ground, I know, -that you educated Mr. Ladislaw and provided for his mother. - -Dorothea waited a few moments for some answer that would help her -onward. None came, and her next words seemed the more forcible to her, -falling clear upon the dark silence. - -But surely we should regard his claim as a much greater one, even to -the half of that property which I know that you have destined for me. -And I think he ought at once to be provided for on that understanding. -It is not right that he should be in the dependence of poverty while we -are rich. And if there is any objection to the proposal he mentioned, -the giving him his true place and his true share would set aside any -motive for his accepting it. - -Mr. Ladislaw has probably been speaking to you on this subject? said -Mr. Casaubon, with a certain biting quickness not habitual to him. - -Indeed, no! said Dorothea, earnestly. How can you imagine it, since -he has so lately declined everything from you? I fear you think too -hardly of him, dear. He only told me a little about his parents and -grandparents, and almost all in answer to my questions. You are so -good, so justyou have done everything you thought to be right. But it -seems to me clear that more than that is right; and I must speak about -it, since I am the person who would get what is called benefit by that -more not being done. - -There was a perceptible pause before Mr. Casaubon replied, not quickly -as before, but with a still more biting emphasis. - -Dorothea, my love, this is not the first occasion, but it were well -that it should be the last, on which you have assumed a judgment on -subjects beyond your scope. Into the question how far conduct, -especially in the matter of alliances, constitutes a forfeiture of -family claims, I do not now enter. Suffice it, that you are not here -qualified to discriminate. What I now wish you to understand is, that I -accept no revision, still less dictation within that range of affairs -which I have deliberated upon as distinctly and properly mine. It is -not for you to interfere between me and Mr. Ladislaw, and still less to -encourage communications from him to you which constitute a criticism -on my procedure. - -Poor Dorothea, shrouded in the darkness, was in a tumult of conflicting -emotions. Alarm at the possible effect on himself of her husbands -strongly manifested anger, would have checked any expression of her own -resentment, even if she had been quite free from doubt and compunction -under the consciousness that there might be some justice in his last -insinuation. Hearing him breathe quickly after he had spoken, she sat -listening, frightened, wretchedwith a dumb inward cry for help to bear -this nightmare of a life in which every energy was arrested by dread. -But nothing else happened, except that they both remained a long while -sleepless, without speaking again. - -The next day, Mr. Casaubon received the following answer from Will -Ladislaw: - -DEAR MR. CASAUBON,I have given all due consideration to your letter -of yesterday, but I am unable to take precisely your view of our mutual -position. With the fullest acknowledgment of your generous conduct to -me in the past, I must still maintain that an obligation of this kind -cannot fairly fetter me as you appear to expect that it should. Granted -that a benefactors wishes may constitute a claim; there must always be -a reservation as to the quality of those wishes. They may possibly -clash with more imperative considerations. Or a benefactors veto might -impose such a negation on a mans life that the consequent blank might -be more cruel than the benefaction was generous. I am merely using -strong illustrations. In the present case I am unable to take your view -of the bearing which my acceptance of occupationnot enriching -certainly, but not dishonorablewill have on your own position which -seems to me too substantial to be affected in that shadowy manner. And -though I do not believe that any change in our relations will occur -(certainly none has yet occurred) which can nullify the obligations -imposed on me by the past, pardon me for not seeing that those -obligations should restrain me from using the ordinary freedom of -living where I choose, and maintaining myself by any lawful occupation -I may choose. Regretting that there exists this difference between us -as to a relation in which the conferring of benefits has been entirely -on your side - - -I remain, yours with persistent obligation, -WILL LADISLAW. - - -Poor Mr. Casaubon felt (and must not we, being impartial, feel with him -a little?) that no man had juster cause for disgust and suspicion than -he. Young Ladislaw, he was sure, meant to defy and annoy him, meant to -win Dorotheas confidence and sow her mind with disrespect, and perhaps -aversion, towards her husband. Some motive beneath the surface had been -needed to account for Wills sudden change of course in rejecting Mr. -Casaubons aid and quitting his travels; and this defiant determination -to fix himself in the neighborhood by taking up something so much at -variance with his former choice as Mr. Brookes Middlemarch projects, -revealed clearly enough that the undeclared motive had relation to -Dorothea. Not for one moment did Mr. Casaubon suspect Dorothea of any -doubleness: he had no suspicions of her, but he had (what was little -less uncomfortable) the positive knowledge that her tendency to form -opinions about her husbands conduct was accompanied with a disposition -to regard Will Ladislaw favorably and be influenced by what he said. -His own proud reticence had prevented him from ever being undeceived in -the supposition that Dorothea had originally asked her uncle to invite -Will to his house. - -And now, on receiving Wills letter, Mr. Casaubon had to consider his -duty. He would never have been easy to call his action anything else -than duty; but in this case, contending motives thrust him back into -negations. - -Should he apply directly to Mr. Brooke, and demand of that troublesome -gentleman to revoke his proposal? Or should he consult Sir James -Chettam, and get him to concur in remonstrance against a step which -touched the whole family? In either case Mr. Casaubon was aware that -failure was just as probable as success. It was impossible for him to -mention Dorotheas name in the matter, and without some alarming -urgency Mr. Brooke was as likely as not, after meeting all -representations with apparent assent, to wind up by saying, Never -fear, Casaubon! Depend upon it, young Ladislaw will do you credit. -Depend upon it, I have put my finger on the right thing. And Mr. -Casaubon shrank nervously from communicating on the subject with Sir -James Chettam, between whom and himself there had never been any -cordiality, and who would immediately think of Dorothea without any -mention of her. - -Poor Mr. Casaubon was distrustful of everybodys feeling towards him, -especially as a husband. To let any one suppose that he was jealous -would be to admit their (suspected) view of his disadvantages: to let -them know that he did not find marriage particularly blissful would -imply his conversion to their (probably) earlier disapproval. It would -be as bad as letting Carp, and Brasenose generally, know how backward -he was in organizing the matter for his Key to all Mythologies. All -through his life Mr. Casaubon had been trying not to admit even to -himself the inward sores of self-doubt and jealousy. And on the most -delicate of all personal subjects, the habit of proud suspicious -reticence told doubly. - -Thus Mr. Casaubon remained proudly, bitterly silent. But he had -forbidden Will to come to Lowick Manor, and he was mentally preparing -other measures of frustration. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - -Cest beaucoup que le jugement des hommes sur les actions humaines; -tt ou tard il devient efficace.GUIZOT. - - -Sir James Chettam could not look with any satisfaction on Mr. Brookes -new courses; but it was easier to object than to hinder. Sir James -accounted for his having come in alone one day to lunch with the -Cadwalladers by saying - -I cant talk to you as I want, before Celia: it might hurt her. -Indeed, it would not be right. - -I know what you meanthe Pioneer at the Grange! darted in Mrs. -Cadwallader, almost before the last word was off her friends tongue. -It is frightfulthis taking to buying whistles and blowing them in -everybodys hearing. Lying in bed all day and playing at dominoes, like -poor Lord Plessy, would be more private and bearable. - -I see they are beginning to attack our friend Brooke in the -Trumpet, said the Rector, lounging back and smiling easily, as he -would have done if he had been attacked himself. There are tremendous -sarcasms against a landlord not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who -receives his own rents, and makes no returns. - -I do wish Brooke would leave that off, said Sir James, with his -little frown of annoyance. - -Is he really going to be put in nomination, though? said Mr. -Cadwallader. I saw Farebrother yesterdayhes Whiggish himself, hoists -Brougham and Useful Knowledge; thats the worst I know of him;and he -says that Brooke is getting up a pretty strong party. Bulstrode, the -banker, is his foremost man. But he thinks Brooke would come off badly -at a nomination. - -Exactly, said Sir James, with earnestness. I have been inquiring -into the thing, for Ive never known anything about Middlemarch -politics beforethe county being my business. What Brooke trusts to, is -that they are going to turn out Oliver because he is a Peelite. But -Hawley tells me that if they send up a Whig at all it is sure to be -Bagster, one of those candidates who come from heaven knows where, but -dead against Ministers, and an experienced Parliamentary man. Hawleys -rather rough: he forgot that he was speaking to me. He said if Brooke -wanted a pelting, he could get it cheaper than by going to the -hustings. - -I warned you all of it, said Mrs. Cadwallader, waving her hands -outward. I said to Humphrey long ago, Mr. Brooke is going to make a -splash in the mud. And now he has done it. - -Well, he might have taken it into his head to marry, said the Rector. -That would have been a graver mess than a little flirtation with -politics. - -He may do that afterwards, said Mrs. Cadwalladerwhen he has come -out on the other side of the mud with an ague. - -What I care for most is his own dignity, said Sir James. Of course I -care the more because of the family. But hes getting on in life now, -and I dont like to think of his exposing himself. They will be raking -up everything against him. - -I suppose its no use trying any persuasion, said the Rector. -Theres such an odd mixture of obstinacy and changeableness in Brooke. -Have you tried him on the subject? - -Well, no, said Sir James; I feel a delicacy in appearing to dictate. -But I have been talking to this young Ladislaw that Brooke is making a -factotum of. Ladislaw seems clever enough for anything. I thought it as -well to hear what he had to say; and he is against Brookes standing -this time. I think hell turn him round: I think the nomination may be -staved off. - -I know, said Mrs. Cadwallader, nodding. The independent member -hasnt got his speeches well enough by heart. - -But this Ladislawthere again is a vexatious business, said Sir -James. We have had him two or three times to dine at the Hall (you -have met him, by the bye) as Brookes guest and a relation of -Casaubons, thinking he was only on a flying visit. And now I find hes -in everybodys mouth in Middlemarch as the editor of the Pioneer. -There are stories going about him as a quill-driving alien, a foreign -emissary, and what not. - -Casaubon wont like that, said the Rector. - -There _is_ some foreign blood in Ladislaw, returned Sir James. I -hope he wont go into extreme opinions and carry Brooke on. - -Oh, hes a dangerous young sprig, that Mr. Ladislaw, said Mrs. -Cadwallader, with his opera songs and his ready tongue. A sort of -Byronic heroan amorous conspirator, it strikes me. And Thomas Aquinas -is not fond of him. I could see that, the day the picture was brought. - -I dont like to begin on the subject with Casaubon, said Sir James. -He has more right to interfere than I. But its a disagreeable affair -all round. What a character for anybody with decent connections to show -himself in!one of those newspaper fellows! You have only to look at -Keck, who manages the Trumpet. I saw him the other day with Hawley. -His writing is sound enough, I believe, but hes such a low fellow, -that I wished he had been on the wrong side. - -What can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers? said the -Rector. I dont suppose you could get a high style of man anywhere to -be writing up interests he doesnt really care about, and for pay that -hardly keeps him in at elbows. - -Exactly: that makes it so annoying that Brooke should have put a man -who has a sort of connection with the family in a position of that -kind. For my part, I think Ladislaw is rather a fool for accepting. - -It is Aquinass fault, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Why didnt he use his -interest to get Ladislaw made an _attache_ or sent to India? That is -how families get rid of troublesome sprigs. - -There is no knowing to what lengths the mischief may go, said Sir -James, anxiously. But if Casaubon says nothing, what can I do? - -Oh my dear Sir James, said the Rector, dont let us make too much of -all this. It is likely enough to end in mere smoke. After a month or -two Brooke and this Master Ladislaw will get tired of each other; -Ladislaw will take wing; Brooke will sell the Pioneer, and everything -will settle down again as usual. - -There is one good chancethat he will not like to feel his money -oozing away, said Mrs. Cadwallader. If I knew the items of election -expenses I could scare him. Its no use plying him with wide words like -Expenditure: I wouldnt talk of phlebotomy, I would empty a pot of -leeches upon him. What we good stingy people dont like, is having our -sixpences sucked away from us. - -And he will not like having things raked up against him, said Sir -James. There is the management of his estate. They have begun upon -that already. And it really is painful for me to see. It is a nuisance -under ones very nose. I do think one is bound to do the best for ones -land and tenants, especially in these hard times. - -Perhaps the Trumpet may rouse him to make a change, and some good -may come of it all, said the Rector. I know I should be glad. I -should hear less grumbling when my tithe is paid. I dont know what I -should do if there were not a modus in Tipton. - -I want him to have a proper man to look after thingsI want him to -take on Garth again, said Sir James. He got rid of Garth twelve years -ago, and everything has been going wrong since. I think of getting -Garth to manage for mehe has made such a capital plan for my -buildings; and Lovegood is hardly up to the mark. But Garth would not -undertake the Tipton estate again unless Brooke left it entirely to -him. - -In the right of it too, said the Rector. Garth is an independent -fellow: an original, simple-minded fellow. One day, when he was doing -some valuation for me, he told me point-blank that clergymen seldom -understood anything about business, and did mischief when they meddled; -but he said it as quietly and respectfully as if he had been talking to -me about sailors. He would make a different parish of Tipton, if Brooke -would let him manage. I wish, by the help of the Trumpet, you could -bring that round. - -If Dorothea had kept near her uncle, there would have been some -chance, said Sir James. She might have got some power over him in -time, and she was always uneasy about the estate. She had wonderfully -good notions about such things. But now Casaubon takes her up entirely. -Celia complains a good deal. We can hardly get her to dine with us, -since he had that fit. Sir James ended with a look of pitying disgust, -and Mrs. Cadwallader shrugged her shoulders as much as to say that -_she_ was not likely to see anything new in that direction. - -Poor Casaubon! the Rector said. That was a nasty attack. I thought -he looked shattered the other day at the Archdeacons. - -In point of fact, resumed Sir James, not choosing to dwell on fits, -Brooke doesnt mean badly by his tenants or any one else, but he has -got that way of paring and clipping at expenses. - -Come, thats a blessing, said Mrs. Cadwallader. That helps him to -find himself in a morning. He may not know his own opinions, but he -does know his own pocket. - -I dont believe a man is in pocket by stinginess on his land, said -Sir James. - -Oh, stinginess may be abused like other virtues: it will not do to -keep ones own pigs lean, said Mrs. Cadwallader, who had risen to look -out of the window. But talk of an independent politician and he will -appear. - -What! Brooke? said her husband. - -Yes. Now, you ply him with the Trumpet, Humphrey; and I will put the -leeches on him. What will you do, Sir James? - -The fact is, I dont like to begin about it with Brooke, in our mutual -position; the whole thing is so unpleasant. I do wish people would -behave like gentlemen, said the good baronet, feeling that this was a -simple and comprehensive programme for social well-being. - -Here you all are, eh? said Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and shaking -hands. I was going up to the Hall by-and-by, Chettam. But its -pleasant to find everybody, you know. Well, what do you think of -things?going on a little fast! It was true enough, what Lafitte -saidSince yesterday, a century has passed away:theyre in the next -century, you know, on the other side of the water. Going on faster than -we are. - -Why, yes, said the Rector, taking up the newspaper. Here is the -Trumpet accusing you of lagging behinddid you see? - -Eh? no, said Mr. Brooke, dropping his gloves into his hat and hastily -adjusting his eye-glass. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the paper in his -hand, saying, with a smile in his eyes - -Look here! all this is about a landlord not a hundred miles from -Middlemarch, who receives his own rents. They say he is the most -retrogressive man in the county. I think you must have taught them that -word in the Pioneer. - -Oh, that is Keckan illiterate fellow, you know. Retrogressive, now! -Come, thats capital. He thinks it means destructive: they want to make -me out a destructive, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with that -cheerfulness which is usually sustained by an adversarys ignorance. - -I think he knows the meaning of the word. Here is a sharp stroke or -two. _If we had to describe a man who is retrogressive in the most evil -sense of the wordwe should say, he is one who would dub himself a -reformer of our constitution, while every interest for which he is -immediately responsible is going to decay: a philanthropist who cannot -bear one rogue to be hanged, but does not mind five honest tenants -being half-starved: a man who shrieks at corruption, and keeps his -farms at rack-rent: who roars himself red at rotten boroughs, and does -not mind if every field on his farms has a rotten gate: a man very -open-hearted to Leeds and Manchester, no doubt; he would give any -number of representatives who will pay for their seats out of their own -pockets: what he objects to giving, is a little return on rent-days to -help a tenant to buy stock, or an outlay on repairs to keep the weather -out at a tenants barn-door or make his house look a little less like -an Irish cottiers. But we all know the wags definition of a -philanthropist: a man whose charity increases directly as the square of -the distance._ And so on. All the rest is to show what sort of -legislator a philanthropist is likely to make, ended the Rector, -throwing down the paper, and clasping his hands at the back of his -head, while he looked at Mr. Brooke with an air of amused neutrality. - -Come, thats rather good, you know, said Mr. Brooke, taking up the -paper and trying to bear the attack as easily as his neighbor did, but -coloring and smiling rather nervously; that about roaring himself red -at rotten boroughsI never made a speech about rotten boroughs in my -life. And as to roaring myself red and that kind of thingthese men -never understand what is good satire. Satire, you know, should be true -up to a certain point. I recollect they said that in The Edinburgh -somewhereit must be true up to a certain point. - -Well, that is really a hit about the gates, said Sir James, anxious -to tread carefully. Dagley complained to me the other day that he -hadnt got a decent gate on his farm. Garth has invented a new pattern -of gateI wish you would try it. One ought to use some of ones timber -in that way. - -You go in for fancy farming, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke, -appearing to glance over the columns of the Trumpet. Thats your -hobby, and you dont mind the expense. - -I thought the most expensive hobby in the world was standing for -Parliament, said Mrs. Cadwallader. They said the last unsuccessful -candidate at MiddlemarchGiles, wasnt his name?spent ten thousand -pounds and failed because he did not bribe enough. What a bitter -reflection for a man! - -Somebody was saying, said the Rector, laughingly, that East Retford -was nothing to Middlemarch, for bribery. - -Nothing of the kind, said Mr. Brooke. The Tories bribe, you know: -Hawley and his set bribe with treating, hot codlings, and that sort of -thing; and they bring the voters drunk to the poll. But they are not -going to have it their own way in futurenot in future, you know. -Middlemarch is a little backward, I admitthe freemen are a little -backward. But we shall educate themwe shall bring them on, you know. -The best people there are on our side. - -Hawley says you have men on your side who will do you harm, remarked -Sir James. He says Bulstrode the banker will do you harm. - -And that if you got pelted, interposed Mrs. Cadwallader, half the -rotten eggs would mean hatred of your committee-man. Good heavens! -Think what it must be to be pelted for wrong opinions. And I seem to -remember a story of a man they pretended to chair and let him fall into -a dust-heap on purpose! - -Pelting is nothing to their finding holes in ones coat, said the -Rector. I confess thats what I should be afraid of, if we parsons had -to stand at the hustings for preferment. I should be afraid of their -reckoning up all my fishing days. Upon my word, I think the truth is -the hardest missile one can be pelted with. - -The fact is, said Sir James, if a man goes into public life he must -be prepared for the consequences. He must make himself proof against -calumny. - -My dear Chettam, that is all very fine, you know, said Mr. Brooke. -But how will you make yourself proof against calumny? You should read -historylook at ostracism, persecution, martyrdom, and that kind of -thing. They always happen to the best men, you know. But what is that -in Horace?_fiat justitia, ruat_ something or other. - -Exactly, said Sir James, with a little more heat than usual. What I -mean by being proof against calumny is being able to point to the fact -as a contradiction. - -And it is not martyrdom to pay bills that one has run into ones -self, said Mrs. Cadwallader. - -But it was Sir Jamess evident annoyance that most stirred Mr. Brooke. -Well, you know, Chettam, he said, rising, taking up his hat and -leaning on his stick, you and I have a different system. You are all -for outlay with your farms. I dont want to make out that my system is -good under all circumstancesunder all circumstances, you know. - -There ought to be a new valuation made from time to time, said Sir -James. Returns are very well occasionally, but I like a fair -valuation. What do you say, Cadwallader? - -I agree with you. If I were Brooke, I would choke the Trumpet at -once by getting Garth to make a new valuation of the farms, and giving -him _carte blanche_ about gates and repairs: thats my view of the -political situation, said the Rector, broadening himself by sticking -his thumbs in his armholes, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke. - -Thats a showy sort of thing to do, you know, said Mr. Brooke. But I -should like you to tell me of another landlord who has distressed his -tenants for arrears as little as I have. I let the old tenants stay on. -Im uncommonly easy, let me tell you, uncommonly easy. I have my own -ideas, and I take my stand on them, you know. A man who does that is -always charged with eccentricity, inconsistency, and that kind of -thing. When I change my line of action, I shall follow my own ideas. - -After that, Mr. Brooke remembered that there was a packet which he had -omitted to send off from the Grange, and he bade everybody hurriedly -good-by. - -I didnt want to take a liberty with Brooke, said Sir James; I see -he is nettled. But as to what he says about old tenants, in point of -fact no new tenant would take the farms on the present terms. - -I have a notion that he will be brought round in time, said the -Rector. But you were pulling one way, Elinor, and we were pulling -another. You wanted to frighten him away from expense, and we want to -frighten him into it. Better let him try to be popular and see that his -character as a landlord stands in his way. I dont think it signifies -two straws about the Pioneer, or Ladislaw, or Brookes speechifying -to the Middlemarchers. But it does signify about the parishioners in -Tipton being comfortable. - -Excuse me, it is you two who are on the wrong tack, said Mrs. -Cadwallader. You should have proved to him that he loses money by bad -management, and then we should all have pulled together. If you put him -a-horseback on politics, I warn you of the consequences. It was all -very well to ride on sticks at home and call them ideas. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - -If, as I have, you also doe, - Vertue attired in woman see, -And dare love that, and say so too, - And forget the He and She; - -And if this love, though placed so, - From prophane men you hide, -Which will no faith on this bestow, - Or, if they doe, deride: - -Then you have done a braver thing - Than all the Worthies did, -And a braver thence will spring, - Which is, to keep that hid. -DR. DONNE. - - -Sir James Chettams mind was not fruitful in devices, but his growing -anxiety to act on Brooke, once brought close to his constant belief -in Dorotheas capacity for influence, became formative, and issued in a -little plan; namely, to plead Celias indisposition as a reason for -fetching Dorothea by herself to the Hall, and to leave her at the -Grange with the carriage on the way, after making her fully aware of -the situation concerning the management of the estate. - -In this way it happened that one day near four oclock, when Mr. Brooke -and Ladislaw were seated in the library, the door opened and Mrs. -Casaubon was announced. - -Will, the moment before, had been low in the depths of boredom, and, -obliged to help Mr. Brooke in arranging documents about hanging -sheep-stealers, was exemplifying the power our minds have of riding -several horses at once by inwardly arranging measures towards getting a -lodging for himself in Middlemarch and cutting short his constant -residence at the Grange; while there flitted through all these steadier -images a tickling vision of a sheep-stealing epic written with Homeric -particularity. When Mrs. Casaubon was announced he started up as from -an electric shock, and felt a tingling at his finger-ends. Any one -observing him would have seen a change in his complexion, in the -adjustment of his facial muscles, in the vividness of his glance, which -might have made them imagine that every molecule in his body had passed -the message of a magic touch. And so it had. For effective magic is -transcendent nature; and who shall measure the subtlety of those -touches which convey the quality of soul as well as body, and make a -mans passion for one woman differ from his passion for another as joy -in the morning light over valley and river and white mountain-top -differs from joy among Chinese lanterns and glass panels? Will, too, -was made of very impressible stuff. The bow of a violin drawn near him -cleverly, would at one stroke change the aspect of the world for him, -and his point of view shifted as easily as his mood. Dorotheas -entrance was the freshness of morning. - -Well, my dear, this is pleasant, now, said Mr. Brooke, meeting and -kissing her. You have left Casaubon with his books, I suppose. Thats -right. We must not have you getting too learned for a woman, you know. - -There is no fear of that, uncle, said Dorothea, turning to Will and -shaking hands with open cheerfulness, while she made no other form of -greeting, but went on answering her uncle. I am very slow. When I want -to be busy with books, I am often playing truant among my thoughts. I -find it is not so easy to be learned as to plan cottages. - -She seated herself beside her uncle opposite to Will, and was evidently -preoccupied with something that made her almost unmindful of him. He -was ridiculously disappointed, as if he had imagined that her coming -had anything to do with him. - -Why, yes, my dear, it was quite your hobby to draw plans. But it was -good to break that off a little. Hobbies are apt to run away with us, -you know; it doesnt do to be run away with. We must keep the reins. I -have never let myself be run away with; I always pulled up. That is -what I tell Ladislaw. He and I are alike, you know: he likes to go into -everything. We are working at capital punishment. We shall do a great -deal together, Ladislaw and I. - -Yes, said Dorothea, with characteristic directness, Sir James has -been telling me that he is in hope of seeing a great change made soon -in your management of the estatethat you are thinking of having the -farms valued, and repairs made, and the cottages improved, so that -Tipton may look quite another place. Oh, how happy!she went on, -clasping her hands, with a return to that more childlike impetuous -manner, which had been subdued since her marriage. If I were at home -still, I should take to riding again, that I might go about with you -and see all that! And you are going to engage Mr. Garth, who praised my -cottages, Sir James says. - -Chettam is a little hasty, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, coloring -slightly; a little hasty, you know. I never said I should do anything -of the kind. I never said I should _not_ do it, you know. - -He only feels confident that you will do it, said Dorothea, in a -voice as clear and unhesitating as that of a young chorister chanting a -credo, because you mean to enter Parliament as a member who cares for -the improvement of the people, and one of the first things to be made -better is the state of the land and the laborers. Think of Kit Downes, -uncle, who lives with his wife and seven children in a house with one -sitting room and one bedroom hardly larger than this table!and those -poor Dagleys, in their tumble-down farmhouse, where they live in the -back kitchen and leave the other rooms to the rats! That is one reason -why I did not like the pictures here, dear unclewhich you think me -stupid about. I used to come from the village with all that dirt and -coarse ugliness like a pain within me, and the simpering pictures in -the drawing-room seemed to me like a wicked attempt to find delight in -what is false, while we dont mind how hard the truth is for the -neighbors outside our walls. I think we have no right to come forward -and urge wider changes for good, until we have tried to alter the evils -which lie under our own hands. - -Dorothea had gathered emotion as she went on, and had forgotten -everything except the relief of pouring forth her feelings, unchecked: -an experience once habitual with her, but hardly ever present since her -marriage, which had been a perpetual struggle of energy with fear. For -the moment, Wills admiration was accompanied with a chilling sense of -remoteness. A man is seldom ashamed of feeling that he cannot love a -woman so well when he sees a certain greatness in her: nature having -intended greatness for men. But nature has sometimes made sad -oversights in carrying out her intention; as in the case of good Mr. -Brooke, whose masculine consciousness was at this moment in rather a -stammering condition under the eloquence of his niece. He could not -immediately find any other mode of expressing himself than that of -rising, fixing his eye-glass, and fingering the papers before him. At -last he said - -There is something in what you say, my dear, something in what you -saybut not everythingeh, Ladislaw? You and I dont like our pictures -and statues being found fault with. Young ladies are a little ardent, -you knowa little one-sided, my dear. Fine art, poetry, that kind of -thing, elevates a nation_emollit mores_you understand a little Latin -now. Buteh? what? - -These interrogatives were addressed to the footman who had come in to -say that the keeper had found one of Dagleys boys with a leveret in -his hand just killed. - -Ill come, Ill come. I shall let him off easily, you know, said Mr. -Brooke aside to Dorothea, shuffling away very cheerfully. - -I hope you feel how right this change is that Ithat Sir James wishes -for, said Dorothea to Will, as soon as her uncle was gone. - -I do, now I have heard you speak about it. I shall not forget what you -have said. But can you think of something else at this moment? I may -not have another opportunity of speaking to you about what has -occurred, said Will, rising with a movement of impatience, and holding -the back of his chair with both hands. - -Pray tell me what it is, said Dorothea, anxiously, also rising and -going to the open window, where Monk was looking in, panting and -wagging his tail. She leaned her back against the window-frame, and -laid her hand on the dogs head; for though, as we know, she was not -fond of pets that must be held in the hands or trodden on, she was -always attentive to the feelings of dogs, and very polite if she had to -decline their advances. - -Will followed her only with his eyes and said, I presume you know that -Mr. Casaubon has forbidden me to go to his house. - -No, I did not, said Dorothea, after a moments pause. She was -evidently much moved. I am very, very sorry, she added, mournfully. -She was thinking of what Will had no knowledge ofthe conversation -between her and her husband in the darkness; and she was anew smitten -with hopelessness that she could influence Mr. Casaubons action. But -the marked expression of her sorrow convinced Will that it was not all -given to him personally, and that Dorothea had not been visited by the -idea that Mr. Casaubons dislike and jealousy of him turned upon -herself. He felt an odd mixture of delight and vexation: of delight -that he could dwell and be cherished in her thought as in a pure home, -without suspicion and without stintof vexation because he was of too -little account with her, was not formidable enough, was treated with an -unhesitating benevolence which did not flatter him. But his dread of -any change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent, and he began -to speak again in a tone of mere explanation. - -Mr. Casaubons reason is, his displeasure at my taking a position here -which he considers unsuited to my rank as his cousin. I have told him -that I cannot give way on this point. It is a little too hard on me to -expect that my course in life is to be hampered by prejudices which I -think ridiculous. Obligation may be stretched till it is no better than -a brand of slavery stamped on us when we were too young to know its -meaning. I would not have accepted the position if I had not meant to -make it useful and honorable. I am not bound to regard family dignity -in any other light. - -Dorothea felt wretched. She thought her husband altogether in the -wrong, on more grounds than Will had mentioned. - -It is better for us not to speak on the subject, she said, with a -tremulousness not common in her voice, since you and Mr. Casaubon -disagree. You intend to remain? She was looking out on the lawn, with -melancholy meditation. - -Yes; but I shall hardly ever see you now, said Will, in a tone of -almost boyish complaint. - -No, said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, hardly ever. But -I shall hear of you. I shall know what you are doing for my uncle. - -I shall know hardly anything about you, said Will. No one will tell -me anything. - -Oh, my life is very simple, said Dorothea, her lips curling with an -exquisite smile, which irradiated her melancholy. I am always at -Lowick. - -That is a dreadful imprisonment, said Will, impetuously. - -No, dont think that, said Dorothea. I have no longings. - -He did not speak, but she replied to some change in his expression. I -mean, for myself. Except that I should like not to have so much more -than my share without doing anything for others. But I have a belief of -my own, and it comforts me. - -What is that? said Will, rather jealous of the belief. - -That by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we dont quite know -what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power -against evilwidening the skirts of light and making the struggle with -darkness narrower. - -That is a beautiful mysticismit is a - -Please not to call it by any name, said Dorothea, putting out her -hands entreatingly. You will say it is Persian, or something else -geographical. It is my life. I have found it out, and cannot part with -it. I have always been finding out my religion since I was a little -girl. I used to pray so muchnow I hardly ever pray. I try not to have -desires merely for myself, because they may not be good for others, and -I have too much already. I only told you, that you might know quite -well how my days go at Lowick. - -God bless you for telling me! said Will, ardently, and rather -wondering at himself. They were looking at each other like two fond -children who were talking confidentially of birds. - -What is _your_ religion? said Dorothea. I meannot what you know -about religion, but the belief that helps you most? - -To love what is good and beautiful when I see it, said Will. But I -am a rebel: I dont feel bound, as you do, to submit to what I dont -like. - -But if you like what is good, that comes to the same thing, said -Dorothea, smiling. - -Now you are subtle, said Will. - -Yes; Mr. Casaubon often says I am too subtle. I dont feel as if I -were subtle, said Dorothea, playfully. But how long my uncle is! I -must go and look for him. I must really go on to the Hall. Celia is -expecting me. - -Will offered to tell Mr. Brooke, who presently came and said that he -would step into the carriage and go with Dorothea as far as Dagleys, -to speak about the small delinquent who had been caught with the -leveret. Dorothea renewed the subject of the estate as they drove -along, but Mr. Brooke, not being taken unawares, got the talk under his -own control. - -Chettam, now, he replied; he finds fault with me, my dear; but I -should not preserve my game if it were not for Chettam, and he cant -say that that expense is for the sake of the tenants, you know. Its a -little against my feeling:poaching, now, if you come to look into itI -have often thought of getting up the subject. Not long ago, Flavell, -the Methodist preacher, was brought up for knocking down a hare that -came across his path when he and his wife were walking out together. He -was pretty quick, and knocked it on the neck. - -That was very brutal, I think, said Dorothea. - -Well, now, it seemed rather black to me, I confess, in a Methodist -preacher, you know. And Johnson said, You may judge what a hypo_crite_ -he is. And upon my word, I thought Flavell looked very little like -the highest style of manas somebody calls the ChristianYoung, the -poet Young, I thinkyou know Young? Well, now, Flavell in his shabby -black gaiters, pleading that he thought the Lord had sent him and his -wife a good dinner, and he had a right to knock it down, though not a -mighty hunter before the Lord, as Nimrod wasI assure you it was rather -comic: Fielding would have made something of itor Scott, nowScott -might have worked it up. But really, when I came to think of it, I -couldnt help liking that the fellow should have a bit of hare to say -grace over. Its all a matter of prejudiceprejudice with the law on -its side, you knowabout the stick and the gaiters, and so on. However, -it doesnt do to reason about things; and law is law. But I got Johnson -to be quiet, and I hushed the matter up. I doubt whether Chettam would -not have been more severe, and yet he comes down on me as if I were the -hardest man in the county. But here we are at Dagleys. - -Mr. Brooke got down at a farmyard-gate, and Dorothea drove on. It is -wonderful how much uglier things will look when we only suspect that we -are blamed for them. Even our own persons in the glass are apt to -change their aspect for us after we have heard some frank remark on -their less admirable points; and on the other hand it is astonishing -how pleasantly conscience takes our encroachments on those who never -complain or have nobody to complain for them. Dagleys homestead never -before looked so dismal to Mr. Brooke as it did today, with his mind -thus sore about the fault-finding of the Trumpet, echoed by Sir -James. - -It is true that an observer, under that softening influence of the fine -arts which makes other peoples hardships picturesque, might have been -delighted with this homestead called Freemans End: the old house had -dormer-windows in the dark red roof, two of the chimneys were choked -with ivy, the large porch was blocked up with bundles of sticks, and -half the windows were closed with gray worm-eaten shutters about which -the jasmine-boughs grew in wild luxuriance; the mouldering garden wall -with hollyhocks peeping over it was a perfect study of highly mingled -subdued color, and there was an aged goat (kept doubtless on -interesting superstitious grounds) lying against the open back-kitchen -door. The mossy thatch of the cow-shed, the broken gray barn-doors, the -pauper laborers in ragged breeches who had nearly finished unloading a -wagon of corn into the barn ready for early thrashing; the scanty dairy -of cows being tethered for milking and leaving one half of the shed in -brown emptiness; the very pigs and white ducks seeming to wander about -the uneven neglected yard as if in low spirits from feeding on a too -meagre quality of rinsings,all these objects under the quiet light of -a sky marbled with high clouds would have made a sort of picture which -we have all paused over as a charming bit, touching other -sensibilities than those which are stirred by the depression of the -agricultural interest, with the sad lack of farming capital, as seen -constantly in the newspapers of that time. But these troublesome -associations were just now strongly present to Mr. Brooke, and spoiled -the scene for him. Mr. Dagley himself made a figure in the landscape, -carrying a pitchfork and wearing his milking-hata very old beaver -flattened in front. His coat and breeches were the best he had, and he -would not have been wearing them on this weekday occasion if he had not -been to market and returned later than usual, having given himself the -rare treat of dining at the public table of the Blue Bull. How he came -to fall into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to -himself on the morrow; but before dinner something in the state of the -country, a slight pause in the harvest before the Far Dips were cut, -the stories about the new King and the numerous handbills on the walls, -had seemed to warrant a little recklessness. It was a maxim about -Middlemarch, and regarded as self-evident, that good meat should have -good drink, which last Dagley interpreted as plenty of table ale well -followed up by rum-and-water. These liquors have so far truth in them -that they were not false enough to make poor Dagley seem merry: they -only made his discontent less tongue-tied than usual. He had also taken -too much in the shape of muddy political talk, a stimulant dangerously -disturbing to his farming conservatism, which consisted in holding that -whatever is, is bad, and any change is likely to be worse. He was -flushed, and his eyes had a decidedly quarrelsome stare as he stood -still grasping his pitchfork, while the landlord approached with his -easy shuffling walk, one hand in his trouser-pocket and the other -swinging round a thin walking-stick. - -Dagley, my good fellow, began Mr. Brooke, conscious that he was going -to be very friendly about the boy. - -Oh, ay, Im a good feller, am I? Thank ye, sir, thank ye, said -Dagley, with a loud snarling irony which made Fag the sheep-dog stir -from his seat and prick his ears; but seeing Monk enter the yard after -some outside loitering, Fag seated himself again in an attitude of -observation. Im glad to hear Im a good feller. - -Mr. Brooke reflected that it was market-day, and that his worthy tenant -had probably been dining, but saw no reason why he should not go on, -since he could take the precaution of repeating what he had to say to -Mrs. Dagley. - -Your little lad Jacob has been caught killing a leveret, Dagley: I -have told Johnson to lock him up in the empty stable an hour or two, -just to frighten him, you know. But he will be brought home by-and-by, -before night: and youll just look after him, will you, and give him a -reprimand, you know? - -No, I woont: Ill be deed if Ill leather my boy to please you or -anybody else, not if you was twenty landlords istid o one, and that a -bad un. - -Dagleys words were loud enough to summon his wife to the back-kitchen -doorthe only entrance ever used, and one always open except in bad -weatherand Mr. Brooke, saying soothingly, Well, well, Ill speak to -your wifeI didnt mean beating, you know, turned to walk to the -house. But Dagley, only the more inclined to have his say with a -gentleman who walked away from him, followed at once, with Fag -slouching at his heels and sullenly evading some small and probably -charitable advances on the part of Monk. - -How do you do, Mrs. Dagley? said Mr. Brooke, making some haste. I -came to tell you about your boy: I dont want you to give him the -stick, you know. He was careful to speak quite plainly this time. - -Overworked Mrs. Dagleya thin, worn woman, from whose life pleasure had -so entirely vanished that she had not even any Sunday clothes which -could give her satisfaction in preparing for churchhad already had a -misunderstanding with her husband since he had come home, and was in -low spirits, expecting the worst. But her husband was beforehand in -answering. - -No, nor he woont hev the stick, whether you want it or no, pursued -Dagley, throwing out his voice, as if he wanted it to hit hard. Youve -got no call to come an talk about sticks o these primises, as you -woont give a stick towrt mending. Go to Middlemarch to ax for _your_ -charrickter. - -Youd far better hold your tongue, Dagley, said the wife, and not -kick your own trough over. When a man as is father of a family has been -an spent money at market and made himself the worse for liquor, hes -done enough mischief for one day. But I should like to know what my -boys done, sir. - -Niver do you mind what hes done, said Dagley, more fiercely, its -my business to speak, an not yourn. An I wull speak, too. Ill hev my -saysupper or no. An what I say is, as Ive lived upo your ground -from my father and grandfather afore me, an hev dropped our money -intot, an me an my children might lie an rot on the ground for -top-dressin as we cant find the money to buy, if the King wasnt to -put a stop. - -My good fellow, youre drunk, you know, said Mr. Brooke, -confidentially but not judiciously. Another day, another day, he -added, turning as if to go. - -But Dagley immediately fronted him, and Fag at his heels growled low, -as his masters voice grew louder and more insulting, while Monk also -drew close in silent dignified watch. The laborers on the wagon were -pausing to listen, and it seemed wiser to be quite passive than to -attempt a ridiculous flight pursued by a bawling man. - -Im no more drunk nor you are, nor so much, said Dagley. I can carry -my liquor, an I know what I meean. An I meean as the King ull put a -stop to t, for them say it as knows it, as theres to be a Rinform, -and them landlords as never done the right thing by their tenants ull -be treated i that way as theyll hev to scuttle off. An theres them -i Middlemarch knows what the Rinform isan as knows wholl hev to -scuttle. Says they, I know who _your_ landlord is. An says I, I -hope youre the better for knowin him, I arnt. Says they, Hes a -close-fisted un. Ay ay, says I. Hes a man for the Rinform, says -they. Thats what they says. An I made out what the Rinform werean -it were to send you an your likes a-scuttlin an wi pretty -strong-smellin things too. An you may do as you like now, for Im -none afeard on you. An youd better let my boy aloan, an look to -yoursen, afore the Rinform has got upo your back. Thats what In got -to say, concluded Mr. Dagley, striking his fork into the ground with a -firmness which proved inconvenient as he tried to draw it up again. - -At this last action Monk began to bark loudly, and it was a moment for -Mr. Brooke to escape. He walked out of the yard as quickly as he could, -in some amazement at the novelty of his situation. He had never been -insulted on his own land before, and had been inclined to regard -himself as a general favorite (we are all apt to do so, when we think -of our own amiability more than of what other people are likely to want -of us). When he had quarrelled with Caleb Garth twelve years before he -had thought that the tenants would be pleased at the landlords taking -everything into his own hands. - -Some who follow the narrative of his experience may wonder at the -midnight darkness of Mr. Dagley; but nothing was easier in those times -than for an hereditary farmer of his grade to be ignorant, in spite -somehow of having a rector in the twin parish who was a gentleman to -the backbone, a curate nearer at hand who preached more learnedly than -the rector, a landlord who had gone into everything, especially fine -art and social improvement, and all the lights of Middlemarch only -three miles off. As to the facility with which mortals escape -knowledge, try an average acquaintance in the intellectual blaze of -London, and consider what that eligible person for a dinner-party would -have been if he had learned scant skill in summing from the -parish-clerk of Tipton, and read a chapter in the Bible with immense -difficulty, because such names as Isaiah or Apollos remained -unmanageable after twice spelling. Poor Dagley read a few verses -sometimes on a Sunday evening, and the world was at least not darker to -him than it had been before. Some things he knew thoroughly, namely, -the slovenly habits of farming, and the awkwardness of weather, stock -and crops, at Freemans Endso called apparently by way of sarcasm, to -imply that a man was free to quit it if he chose, but that there was no -earthly beyond open to him. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - -Wise in his daily work was he: - To fruits of diligence, -And not to faiths or polity, - He plied his utmost sense. -These perfect in their little parts, - Whose work is all their prize -Without them how could laws, or arts, - Or towered cities rise? - - -In watching effects, if only of an electric battery, it is often -necessary to change our place and examine a particular mixture or group -at some distance from the point where the movement we are interested in -was set up. The group I am moving towards is at Caleb Garths -breakfast-table in the large parlor where the maps and desk were: -father, mother, and five of the children. Mary was just now at home -waiting for a situation, while Christy, the boy next to her, was -getting cheap learning and cheap fare in Scotland, having to his -fathers disappointment taken to books instead of that sacred calling -business. - -The letters had comenine costly letters, for which the postman had -been paid three and twopence, and Mr. Garth was forgetting his tea and -toast while he read his letters and laid them open one above the other, -sometimes swaying his head slowly, sometimes screwing up his mouth in -inward debate, but not forgetting to cut off a large red seal unbroken, -which Letty snatched up like an eager terrier. - -The talk among the rest went on unrestrainedly, for nothing disturbed -Calebs absorption except shaking the table when he was writing. - -Two letters of the nine had been for Mary. After reading them, she had -passed them to her mother, and sat playing with her tea-spoon absently, -till with a sudden recollection she returned to her sewing, which she -had kept on her lap during breakfast. - -Oh, dont sew, Mary! said Ben, pulling her arm down. Make me a -peacock with this bread-crumb. He had been kneading a small mass for -the purpose. - -No, no, Mischief! said Mary, good-humoredly, while she pricked his -hand lightly with her needle. Try and mould it yourself: you have seen -me do it often enough. I must get this sewing done. It is for Rosamond -Vincy: she is to be married next week, and she cant be married without -this handkerchief. Mary ended merrily, amused with the last notion. - -Why cant she, Mary? said Letty, seriously interested in this -mystery, and pushing her head so close to her sister that Mary now -turned the threatening needle towards Lettys nose. - -Because this is one of a dozen, and without it there would only be -eleven, said Mary, with a grave air of explanation, so that Letty sank -back with a sense of knowledge. - -Have you made up your mind, my dear? said Mrs. Garth, laying the -letters down. - -I shall go to the school at York, said Mary. I am less unfit to -teach in a school than in a family. I like to teach classes best. And, -you see, I must teach: there is nothing else to be done. - -Teaching seems to me the most delightful work in the world, said Mrs. -Garth, with a touch of rebuke in her tone. I could understand your -objection to it if you had not knowledge enough, Mary, or if you -disliked children. - -I suppose we never quite understand why another dislikes what we like, -mother, said Mary, rather curtly. I am not fond of a schoolroom: I -like the outside world better. It is a very inconvenient fault of -mine. - -It must be very stupid to be always in a girls school, said Alfred. -Such a set of nincompoops, like Mrs. Ballards pupils walking two and -two. - -And they have no games worth playing at, said Jim. They can neither -throw nor leap. I dont wonder at Marys not liking it. - -What is that Mary doesnt like, eh? said the father, looking over his -spectacles and pausing before he opened his next letter. - -Being among a lot of nincompoop girls, said Alfred. - -Is it the situation you had heard of, Mary? said Caleb, gently, -looking at his daughter. - -Yes, father: the school at York. I have determined to take it. It is -quite the best. Thirty-five pounds a-year, and extra pay for teaching -the smallest strummers at the piano. - -Poor child! I wish she could stay at home with us, Susan, said Caleb, -looking plaintively at his wife. - -Mary would not be happy without doing her duty, said Mrs. Garth, -magisterially, conscious of having done her own. - -It wouldnt make me happy to do such a nasty duty as that, said -Alfredat which Mary and her father laughed silently, but Mrs. Garth -said, gravely - -Do find a fitter word than nasty, my dear Alfred, for everything that -you think disagreeable. And suppose that Mary could help you to go to -Mr. Hanmers with the money she gets? - -That seems to me a great shame. But shes an old brick, said Alfred, -rising from his chair, and pulling Marys head backward to kiss her. - -Mary colored and laughed, but could not conceal that the tears were -coming. Caleb, looking on over his spectacles, with the angles of his -eyebrows falling, had an expression of mingled delight and sorrow as he -returned to the opening of his letter; and even Mrs. Garth, her lips -curling with a calm contentment, allowed that inappropriate language to -pass without correction, although Ben immediately took it up, and sang, -Shes an old brick, old brick, old brick! to a cantering measure, -which he beat out with his fist on Marys arm. - -But Mrs. Garths eyes were now drawn towards her husband, who was -already deep in the letter he was reading. His face had an expression -of grave surprise, which alarmed her a little, but he did not like to -be questioned while he was reading, and she remained anxiously watching -till she saw him suddenly shaken by a little joyous laugh as he turned -back to the beginning of the letter, and looking at her above his -spectacles, said, in a low tone, What do you think, Susan? - -She went and stood behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder, while -they read the letter together. It was from Sir James Chettam, offering -to Mr. Garth the management of the family estates at Freshitt and -elsewhere, and adding that Sir James had been requested by Mr. Brooke -of Tipton to ascertain whether Mr. Garth would be disposed at the same -time to resume the agency of the Tipton property. The Baronet added in -very obliging words that he himself was particularly desirous of seeing -the Freshitt and Tipton estates under the same management, and he hoped -to be able to show that the double agency might be held on terms -agreeable to Mr. Garth, whom he would be glad to see at the Hall at -twelve oclock on the following day. - -He writes handsomely, doesnt he, Susan? said Caleb, turning his eyes -upward to his wife, who raised her hand from his shoulder to his ear, -while she rested her chin on his head. Brooke didnt like to ask me -himself, I can see, he continued, laughing silently. - -Here is an honor to your father, children, said Mrs. Garth, looking -round at the five pair of eyes, all fixed on the parents. He is asked -to take a post again by those who dismissed him long ago. That shows -that he did his work well, so that they feel the want of him. - -Like Cincinnatushooray! said Ben, riding on his chair, with a -pleasant confidence that discipline was relaxed. - -Will they come to fetch him, mother? said Letty, thinking of the -Mayor and Corporation in their robes. - -Mrs. Garth patted Lettys head and smiled, but seeing that her husband -was gathering up his letters and likely soon to be out of reach in that -sanctuary business, she pressed his shoulder and said emphatically - -Now, mind you ask fair pay, Caleb. - -Oh yes, said Caleb, in a deep voice of assent, as if it would be -unreasonable to suppose anything else of him. Itll come to between -four and five hundred, the two together. Then with a little start of -remembrance he said, Mary, write and give up that school. Stay and -help your mother. Im as pleased as Punch, now Ive thought of that. - -No manner could have been less like that of Punch triumphant than -Calebs, but his talents did not lie in finding phrases, though he was -very particular about his letter-writing, and regarded his wife as a -treasury of correct language. - -There was almost an uproar among the children now, and Mary held up the -cambric embroidery towards her mother entreatingly, that it might be -put out of reach while the boys dragged her into a dance. Mrs. Garth, -in placid joy, began to put the cups and plates together, while Caleb -pushing his chair from the table, as if he were going to move to the -desk, still sat holding his letters in his hand and looking on the -ground meditatively, stretching out the fingers of his left hand, -according to a mute language of his own. At last he said - -Its a thousand pities Christy didnt take to business, Susan. I shall -want help by-and-by. And Alfred must go off to the engineeringIve -made up my mind to that. He fell into meditation and finger-rhetoric -again for a little while, and then continued: I shall make Brooke have -new agreements with the tenants, and I shall draw up a rotation of -crops. And Ill lay a wager we can get fine bricks out of the clay at -Botts corner. I must look into that: it would cheapen the repairs. -Its a fine bit of work, Susan! A man without a family would be glad to -do it for nothing. - -Mind you dont, though, said his wife, lifting up her finger. - -No, no; but its a fine thing to come to a man when hes seen into the -nature of business: to have the chance of getting a bit of the country -into good fettle, as they say, and putting men into the right way with -their farming, and getting a bit of good contriving and solid building -donethat those who are living and those who come after will be the -better for. Id sooner have it than a fortune. I hold it the most -honorable work that is. Here Caleb laid down his letters, thrust his -fingers between the buttons of his waistcoat, and sat upright, but -presently proceeded with some awe in his voice and moving his head -slowly asideIts a great gift of God, Susan. - -That it is, Caleb, said his wife, with answering fervor. And it will -be a blessing to your children to have had a father who did such work: -a father whose good work remains though his name may be forgotten. She -could not say any more to him then about the pay. - -In the evening, when Caleb, rather tired with his days work, was -seated in silence with his pocket-book open on his knee, while Mrs. -Garth and Mary were at their sewing, and Letty in a corner was -whispering a dialogue with her doll, Mr. Farebrother came up the -orchard walk, dividing the bright August lights and shadows with the -tufted grass and the apple-tree boughs. We know that he was fond of his -parishioners the Garths, and had thought Mary worth mentioning to -Lydgate. He used to the full the clergymans privilege of disregarding -the Middlemarch discrimination of ranks, and always told his mother -that Mrs. Garth was more of a lady than any matron in the town. Still, -you see, he spent his evenings at the Vincys, where the matron, though -less of a lady, presided over a well-lit drawing-room and whist. In -those days human intercourse was not determined solely by respect. But -the Vicar did heartily respect the Garths, and a visit from him was no -surprise to that family. Nevertheless he accounted for it even while he -was shaking hands, by saying, I come as an envoy, Mrs. Garth: I have -something to say to you and Garth on behalf of Fred Vincy. The fact is, -poor fellow, he continued, as he seated himself and looked round with -his bright glance at the three who were listening to him, he has taken -me into his confidence. - -Marys heart beat rather quickly: she wondered how far Freds -confidence had gone. - -We havent seen the lad for months, said Caleb. I couldnt think -what was become of him. - -He has been away on a visit, said the Vicar, because home was a -little too hot for him, and Lydgate told his mother that the poor -fellow must not begin to study yet. But yesterday he came and poured -himself out to me. I am very glad he did, because I have seen him grow -up from a youngster of fourteen, and I am so much at home in the house -that the children are like nephews and nieces to me. But it is a -difficult case to advise upon. However, he has asked me to come and -tell you that he is going away, and that he is so miserable about his -debt to you, and his inability to pay, that he cant bear to come -himself even to bid you good by. - -Tell him it doesnt signify a farthing, said Caleb, waving his hand. -Weve had the pinch and have got over it. And now Im going to be as -rich as a Jew. - -Which means, said Mrs. Garth, smiling at the Vicar, that we are -going to have enough to bring up the boys well and to keep Mary at -home. - -What is the treasure-trove? said Mr. Farebrother. - -Im going to be agent for two estates, Freshitt and Tipton; and -perhaps for a pretty little bit of land in Lowick besides: its all the -same family connection, and employment spreads like water if its once -set going. It makes me very happy, Mr. Farebrotherhere Caleb threw -back his head a little, and spread his arms on the elbows of his -chairthat Ive got an opportunity again with the letting of the land, -and carrying out a notion or two with improvements. Its a most -uncommonly cramping thing, as Ive often told Susan, to sit on -horseback and look over the hedges at the wrong thing, and not be able -to put your hand to it to make it right. What people do who go into -politics I cant think: it drives me almost mad to see mismanagement -over only a few hundred acres. - -It was seldom that Caleb volunteered so long a speech, but his -happiness had the effect of mountain air: his eyes were bright, and the -words came without effort. - -I congratulate you heartily, Garth, said the Vicar. This is the best -sort of news I could have had to carry to Fred Vincy, for he dwelt a -good deal on the injury he had done you in causing you to part with -moneyrobbing you of it, he saidwhich you wanted for other purposes. I -wish Fred were not such an idle dog; he has some very good points, and -his father is a little hard upon him. - -Where is he going? said Mrs. Garth, rather coldly. - -He means to try again for his degree, and he is going up to study -before term. I have advised him to do that. I dont urge him to enter -the Churchon the contrary. But if he will go and work so as to pass, -that will be some guarantee that he has energy and a will; and he is -quite at sea; he doesnt know what else to do. So far he will please -his father, and I have promised in the mean time to try and reconcile -Vincy to his sons adopting some other line of life. Fred says frankly -he is not fit for a clergyman, and I would do anything I could to -hinder a man from the fatal step of choosing the wrong profession. He -quoted to me what you said, Miss Garthdo you remember it? (Mr. -Farebrother used to say Mary instead of Miss Garth, but it was part -of his delicacy to treat her with the more deference because, according -to Mrs. Vincys phrase, she worked for her bread.) - -Mary felt uncomfortable, but, determined to take the matter lightly, -answered at once, I have said so many impertinent things to Fredwe -are such old playfellows. - -You said, according to him, that he would be one of those ridiculous -clergymen who help to make the whole clergy ridiculous. Really, that -was so cutting that I felt a little cut myself. - -Caleb laughed. She gets her tongue from you, Susan, he said, with -some enjoyment. - -Not its flippancy, father, said Mary, quickly, fearing that her -mother would be displeased. It is rather too bad of Fred to repeat my -flippant speeches to Mr. Farebrother. - -It was certainly a hasty speech, my dear, said Mrs. Garth, with whom -speaking evil of dignities was a high misdemeanor. We should not value -our Vicar the less because there was a ridiculous curate in the next -parish. - -Theres something in what she says, though, said Caleb, not disposed -to have Marys sharpness undervalued. A bad workman of any sort makes -his fellows mistrusted. Things hang together, he added, looking on the -floor and moving his feet uneasily with a sense that words were -scantier than thoughts. - -Clearly, said the Vicar, amused. By being contemptible we set mens -minds to the tune of contempt. I certainly agree with Miss Garths view -of the matter, whether I am condemned by it or not. But as to Fred -Vincy, it is only fair he should be excused a little: old -Featherstones delusive behavior did help to spoil him. There was -something quite diabolical in not leaving him a farthing after all. But -Fred has the good taste not to dwell on that. And what he cares most -about is having offended you, Mrs. Garth; he supposes you will never -think well of him again. - -I have been disappointed in Fred, said Mrs. Garth, with decision. -But I shall be ready to think well of him again when he gives me good -reason to do so. - -At this point Mary went out of the room, taking Letty with her. - -Oh, we must forgive young people when theyre sorry, said Caleb, -watching Mary close the door. And as you say, Mr. Farebrother, there -was the very devil in that old man. Now Marys gone out, I must tell -you a thingits only known to Susan and me, and youll not tell it -again. The old scoundrel wanted Mary to burn one of the wills the very -night he died, when she was sitting up with him by herself, and he -offered her a sum of money that he had in the box by him if she would -do it. But Mary, you understand, could do no such thingwould not be -handling his iron chest, and so on. Now, you see, the will he wanted -burnt was this last, so that if Mary had done what he wanted, Fred -Vincy would have had ten thousand pounds. The old man did turn to him -at the last. That touches poor Mary close; she couldnt help itshe was -in the right to do what she did, but she feels, as she says, much as if -she had knocked down somebodys property and broken it against her -will, when she was rightfully defending herself. I feel with her, -somehow, and if I could make any amends to the poor lad, instead of -bearing him a grudge for the harm he did us, I should be glad to do it. -Now, what is your opinion, sir? Susan doesnt agree with me; she -saystell what you say, Susan. - -Mary could not have acted otherwise, even if she had known what would -be the effect on Fred, said Mrs. Garth, pausing from her work, and -looking at Mr. Farebrother. - -And she was quite ignorant of it. It seems to me, a loss which falls -on another because we have done right is not to lie upon our -conscience. - -The Vicar did not answer immediately, and Caleb said, Its the -feeling. The child feels in that way, and I feel with her. You dont -mean your horse to tread on a dog when youre backing out of the way; -but it goes through you, when its done. - -I am sure Mrs. Garth would agree with you there, said Mr. -Farebrother, who for some reason seemed more inclined to ruminate than -to speak. One could hardly say that the feeling you mention about Fred -is wrongor rather, mistakenthough no man ought to make a claim on -such feeling. - -Well, well, said Caleb, its a secret. You will not tell Fred. - -Certainly not. But I shall carry the other good newsthat you can -afford the loss he caused you. - -Mr. Farebrother left the house soon after, and seeing Mary in the -orchard with Letty, went to say good-by to her. They made a pretty -picture in the western light which brought out the brightness of the -apples on the old scant-leaved boughsMary in her lavender gingham and -black ribbons holding a basket, while Letty in her well-worn nankin -picked up the fallen apples. If you want to know more particularly how -Mary looked, ten to one you will see a face like hers in the crowded -street to-morrow, if you are there on the watch: she will not be among -those daughters of Zion who are haughty, and walk with stretched-out -necks and wanton eyes, mincing as they go: let all those pass, and fix -your eyes on some small plump brownish person of firm but quiet -carriage, who looks about her, but does not suppose that anybody is -looking at her. If she has a broad face and square brow, well-marked -eyebrows and curly dark hair, a certain expression of amusement in her -glance which her mouth keeps the secret of, and for the rest features -entirely insignificanttake that ordinary but not disagreeable person -for a portrait of Mary Garth. If you made her smile, she would show you -perfect little teeth; if you made her angry, she would not raise her -voice, but would probably say one of the bitterest things you have ever -tasted the flavor of; if you did her a kindness, she would never forget -it. Mary admired the keen-faced handsome little Vicar in his -well-brushed threadbare clothes more than any man she had had the -opportunity of knowing. She had never heard him say a foolish thing, -though she knew that he did unwise ones; and perhaps foolish sayings -were more objectionable to her than any of Mr. Farebrothers unwise -doings. At least, it was remarkable that the actual imperfections of -the Vicars clerical character never seemed to call forth the same -scorn and dislike which she showed beforehand for the predicted -imperfections of the clerical character sustained by Fred Vincy. These -irregularities of judgment, I imagine, are found even in riper minds -than Mary Garths: our impartiality is kept for abstract merit and -demerit, which none of us ever saw. Will any one guess towards which of -those widely different men Mary had the peculiar womans -tenderness?the one she was most inclined to be severe on, or the -contrary? - -Have you any message for your old playfellow, Miss Garth? said the -Vicar, as he took a fragrant apple from the basket which she held -towards him, and put it in his pocket. Something to soften down that -harsh judgment? I am going straight to see him. - -No, said Mary, shaking her head, and smiling. If I were to say that -he would not be ridiculous as a clergyman, I must say that he would be -something worse than ridiculous. But I am very glad to hear that he is -going away to work. - -On the other hand, I am very glad to hear that _you_ are not going -away to work. My mother, I am sure, will be all the happier if you will -come to see her at the vicarage: you know she is fond of having young -people to talk to, and she has a great deal to tell about old times. -You will really be doing a kindness. - -I should like it very much, if I may, said Mary. Everything seems -too happy for me all at once. I thought it would always be part of my -life to long for home, and losing that grievance makes me feel rather -empty: I suppose it served instead of sense to fill up my mind? - -May I go with you, Mary? whispered Lettya most inconvenient child, -who listened to everything. But she was made exultant by having her -chin pinched and her cheek kissed by Mr. Farebrotheran incident which -she narrated to her mother and father. - -As the Vicar walked to Lowick, any one watching him closely might have -seen him twice shrug his shoulders. I think that the rare Englishmen -who have this gesture are never of the heavy typefor fear of any -lumbering instance to the contrary, I will say, hardly ever; they have -usually a fine temperament and much tolerance towards the smaller -errors of men (themselves inclusive). The Vicar was holding an inward -dialogue in which he told himself that there was probably something -more between Fred and Mary Garth than the regard of old playfellows, -and replied with a question whether that bit of womanhood were not a -great deal too choice for that crude young gentleman. The rejoinder to -this was the first shrug. Then he laughed at himself for being likely -to have felt jealous, as if he had been a man able to marry, which, -added he, it is as clear as any balance-sheet that I am not. Whereupon -followed the second shrug. - -What could two men, so different from each other, see in this brown -patch, as Mary called herself? It was certainly not her plainness that -attracted them (and let all plain young ladies be warned against the -dangerous encouragement given them by Society to confide in their want -of beauty). A human being in this aged nation of ours is a very -wonderful whole, the slow creation of long interchanging influences: -and charm is a result of two such wholes, the one loving and the one -loved. - -When Mr. and Mrs. Garth were sitting alone, Caleb said, Susan, guess -what Im thinking of. - -The rotation of crops, said Mrs. Garth, smiling at him, above her -knitting, or else the back-doors of the Tipton cottages. - -No, said Caleb, gravely; I am thinking that I could do a great turn -for Fred Vincy. Christys gone, Alfred will be gone soon, and it will -be five years before Jim is ready to take to business. I shall want -help, and Fred might come in and learn the nature of things and act -under me, and it might be the making of him into a useful man, if he -gives up being a parson. What do you think? - -I think, there is hardly anything honest that his family would object -to more, said Mrs. Garth, decidedly. - -What care I about their objecting? said Caleb, with a sturdiness -which he was apt to show when he had an opinion. The lad is of age and -must get his bread. He has sense enough and quickness enough; he likes -being on the land, and its my belief that he could learn business well -if he gave his mind to it. - -But would he? His father and mother wanted him to be a fine gentleman, -and I think he has the same sort of feeling himself. They all think us -beneath them. And if the proposal came from you, I am sure Mrs. Vincy -would say that we wanted Fred for Mary. - -Life is a poor tale, if it is to be settled by nonsense of that sort, -said Caleb, with disgust. - -Yes, but there is a certain pride which is proper, Caleb. - -I call it improper pride to let fools notions hinder you from doing a -good action. Theres no sort of work, said Caleb, with fervor, putting -out his hand and moving it up and down to mark his emphasis, that -could ever be done well, if you minded what fools say. You must have it -inside you that your plan is right, and that plan you must follow. - -I will not oppose any plan you have set your mind on, Caleb, said -Mrs. Garth, who was a firm woman, but knew that there were some points -on which her mild husband was yet firmer. Still, it seems to be fixed -that Fred is to go back to college: will it not be better to wait and -see what he will choose to do after that? It is not easy to keep people -against their will. And you are not yet quite sure enough of your own -position, or what you will want. - -Well, it may be better to wait a bit. But as to my getting plenty of -work for two, Im pretty sure of that. Ive always had my hands full -with scattered things, and theres always something fresh turning up. -Why, only yesterdaybless me, I dont think I told you!it was rather -odd that two men should have been at me on different sides to do the -same bit of valuing. And who do you think they were? said Caleb, -taking a pinch of snuff and holding it up between his fingers, as if it -were a part of his exposition. He was fond of a pinch when it occurred -to him, but he usually forgot that this indulgence was at his command. - -His wife held down her knitting and looked attentive. - -Why, that Rigg, or Rigg Featherstone, was one. But Bulstrode was -before him, so Im going to do it for Bulstrode. Whether its mortgage -or purchase theyre going for, I cant tell yet. - -Can that man be going to sell the land just left himwhich he has -taken the name for? said Mrs. Garth. - -Deuce knows, said Caleb, who never referred the knowledge of -discreditable doings to any higher power than the deuce. But Bulstrode -has long been wanting to get a handsome bit of land under his -fingersthat I know. And its a difficult matter to get, in this part -of the country. - -Caleb scattered his snuff carefully instead of taking it, and then -added, The ins and outs of things are curious. Here is the land -theyve been all along expecting for Fred, which it seems the old man -never meant to leave him a foot of, but left it to this side-slip of a -son that he kept in the dark, and thought of his sticking there and -vexing everybody as well as he could have vexed em himself if he could -have kept alive. I say, it would be curious if it got into Bulstrodes -hands after all. The old man hated him, and never would bank with him. - -What reason could the miserable creature have for hating a man whom he -had nothing to do with? said Mrs. Garth. - -Pooh! wheres the use of asking for such fellows reasons? The soul of -man, said Caleb, with the deep tone and grave shake of the head which -always came when he used this phraseThe soul of man, when it gets -fairly rotten, will bear you all sorts of poisonous toad-stools, and no -eye can see whence came the seed thereof. - -It was one of Calebs quaintnesses, that in his difficulty of finding -speech for his thought, he caught, as it were, snatches of diction -which he associated with various points of view or states of mind; and -whenever he had a feeling of awe, he was haunted by a sense of Biblical -phraseology, though he could hardly have given a strict quotation. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - -By swaggering could I never thrive, -For the rain it raineth every day. -_Twelfth Night_. - - -The transactions referred to by Caleb Garth as having gone forward -between Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Joshua Rigg Featherstone concerning the -land attached to Stone Court, had occasioned the interchange of a -letter or two between these personages. - -Who shall tell what may be the effect of writing? If it happens to have -been cut in stone, though it lie face down-most for ages on a forsaken -beach, or rest quietly under the drums and tramplings of many -conquests, it may end by letting us into the secret of usurpations and -other scandals gossiped about long empires ago:this world being -apparently a huge whispering-gallery. Such conditions are often -minutely represented in our petty lifetimes. As the stone which has -been kicked by generations of clowns may come by curious little links -of effect under the eyes of a scholar, through whose labors it may at -last fix the date of invasions and unlock religions, so a bit of ink -and paper which has long been an innocent wrapping or stop-gap may at -last be laid open under the one pair of eyes which have knowledge -enough to turn it into the opening of a catastrophe. To Uriel watching -the progress of planetary history from the sun, the one result would be -just as much of a coincidence as the other. - -Having made this rather lofty comparison I am less uneasy in calling -attention to the existence of low people by whose interference, however -little we may like it, the course of the world is very much determined. -It would be well, certainly, if we could help to reduce their number, -and something might perhaps be done by not lightly giving occasion to -their existence. Socially speaking, Joshua Rigg would have been -generally pronounced a superfluity. But those who like Peter -Featherstone never had a copy of themselves demanded, are the very last -to wait for such a request either in prose or verse. The copy in this -case bore more of outside resemblance to the mother, in whose sex -frog-features, accompanied with fresh-colored cheeks and a well-rounded -figure, are compatible with much charm for a certain order of admirers. -The result is sometimes a frog-faced male, desirable, surely, to no -order of intelligent beings. Especially when he is suddenly brought -into evidence to frustrate other peoples expectationsthe very lowest -aspect in which a social superfluity can present himself. - -But Mr. Rigg Featherstones low characteristics were all of the sober, -water-drinking kind. From the earliest to the latest hour of the day he -was always as sleek, neat, and cool as the frog he resembled, and old -Peter had secretly chuckled over an offshoot almost more calculating, -and far more imperturbable, than himself. I will add that his -finger-nails were scrupulously attended to, and that he meant to marry -a well-educated young lady (as yet unspecified) whose person was good, -and whose connections, in a solid middle-class way, were undeniable. -Thus his nails and modesty were comparable to those of most gentlemen; -though his ambition had been educated only by the opportunities of a -clerk and accountant in the smaller commercial houses of a seaport. He -thought the rural Featherstones very simple absurd people, and they in -their turn regarded his bringing up in a seaport town as an -exaggeration of the monstrosity that their brother Peter, and still -more Peters property, should have had such belongings. - -The garden and gravel approach, as seen from the two windows of the -wainscoted parlor at Stone Court, were never in better trim than now, -when Mr. Rigg Featherstone stood, with his hands behind him, looking -out on these grounds as their master. But it seemed doubtful whether he -looked out for the sake of contemplation or of turning his back to a -person who stood in the middle of the room, with his legs considerably -apart and his hands in his trouser-pockets: a person in all respects a -contrast to the sleek and cool Rigg. He was a man obviously on the way -towards sixty, very florid and hairy, with much gray in his bushy -whiskers and thick curly hair, a stoutish body which showed to -disadvantage the somewhat worn joinings of his clothes, and the air of -a swaggerer, who would aim at being noticeable even at a show of -fireworks, regarding his own remarks on any other persons performance -as likely to be more interesting than the performance itself. - -His name was John Raffles, and he sometimes wrote jocosely W.A.G. after -his signature, observing when he did so, that he was once taught by -Leonard Lamb of Finsbury who wrote B.A. after his name, and that he, -Raffles, originated the witticism of calling that celebrated principal -Ba-Lamb. Such were the appearance and mental flavor of Mr. Raffles, -both of which seemed to have a stale odor of travellers rooms in the -commercial hotels of that period. - -Come, now, Josh, he was saying, in a full rumbling tone, look at it -in this light: here is your poor mother going into the vale of years, -and you could afford something handsome now to make her comfortable. - -Not while you live. Nothing would make her comfortable while you -live, returned Rigg, in his cool high voice. What I give her, youll -take. - -You bear me a grudge, Josh, that I know. But come, nowas between man -and manwithout humbuga little capital might enable me to make a -first-rate thing of the shop. The tobacco trade is growing. I should -cut my own nose off in not doing the best I could at it. I should stick -to it like a flea to a fleece for my own sake. I should always be on -the spot. And nothing would make your poor mother so happy. Ive pretty -well done with my wild oatsturned fifty-five. I want to settle down in -my chimney-corner. And if I once buckled to the tobacco trade, I could -bring an amount of brains and experience to bear on it that would not -be found elsewhere in a hurry. I dont want to be bothering you one -time after another, but to get things once for all into the right -channel. Consider that, Joshas between man and manand with your poor -mother to be made easy for her life. I was always fond of the old -woman, by Jove! - -Have you done? said Mr. Rigg, quietly, without looking away from the -window. - -Yes, _I_ve done, said Raffles, taking hold of his hat which stood -before him on the table, and giving it a sort of oratorical push. - -Then just listen to me. The more you say anything, the less I shall -believe it. The more you want me to do a thing, the more reason I shall -have for never doing it. Do you think I mean to forget your kicking me -when I was a lad, and eating all the best victual away from me and my -mother? Do you think I forget your always coming home to sell and -pocket everything, and going off again leaving us in the lurch? I -should be glad to see you whipped at the cart-tail. My mother was a -fool to you: shed no right to give me a father-in-law, and shes been -punished for it. She shall have her weekly allowance paid and no more: -and that shall be stopped if you dare to come on to these premises -again, or to come into this country after me again. The next time you -show yourself inside the gates here, you shall be driven off with the -dogs and the wagoners whip. - -As Rigg pronounced the last words he turned round and looked at Raffles -with his prominent frozen eyes. The contrast was as striking as it -could have been eighteen years before, when Rigg was a most unengaging -kickable boy, and Raffles was the rather thick-set Adonis of bar-rooms -and back-parlors. But the advantage now was on the side of Rigg, and -auditors of this conversation might probably have expected that Raffles -would retire with the air of a defeated dog. Not at all. He made a -grimace which was habitual with him whenever he was out in a game; -then subsided into a laugh, and drew a brandy-flask from his pocket. - -Come, Josh, he said, in a cajoling tone, give us a spoonful of -brandy, and a sovereign to pay the way back, and Ill go. Honor bright! -Ill go like a bullet, _by_ Jove! - -Mind, said Rigg, drawing out a bunch of keys, if I ever see you -again, I shant speak to you. I dont own you any more than if I saw a -crow; and if you want to own me youll get nothing by it but a -character for being what you area spiteful, brassy, bullying rogue. - -Thats a pity, now, Josh, said Raffles, affecting to scratch his head -and wrinkle his brows upward as if he were nonplussed. Im very fond -of you; _by_ Jove, I am! Theres nothing I like better than plaguing -youyoure so like your mother, and I must do without it. But the -brandy and the sovereigns a bargain. - -He jerked forward the flask and Rigg went to a fine old oaken bureau -with his keys. But Raffles had reminded himself by his movement with -the flask that it had become dangerously loose from its leather -covering, and catching sight of a folded paper which had fallen within -the fender, he took it up and shoved it under the leather so as to make -the glass firm. - -By that time Rigg came forward with a brandy-bottle, filled the flask, -and handed Raffles a sovereign, neither looking at him nor speaking to -him. After locking up the bureau again, he walked to the window and -gazed out as impassibly as he had done at the beginning of the -interview, while Raffles took a small allowance from the flask, screwed -it up, and deposited it in his side-pocket, with provoking slowness, -making a grimace at his stepsons back. - -Farewell, Joshand if forever! said Raffles, turning back his head as -he opened the door. - -Rigg saw him leave the grounds and enter the lane. The gray day had -turned to a light drizzling rain, which freshened the hedgerows and the -grassy borders of the by-roads, and hastened the laborers who were -loading the last shocks of corn. Raffles, walking with the uneasy gait -of a town loiterer obliged to do a bit of country journeying on foot, -looked as incongruous amid this moist rural quiet and industry as if he -had been a baboon escaped from a menagerie. But there were none to -stare at him except the long-weaned calves, and none to show dislike of -his appearance except the little water-rats which rustled away at his -approach. - -He was fortunate enough when he got on to the highroad to be overtaken -by the stage-coach, which carried him to Brassing; and there he took -the new-made railway, observing to his fellow-passengers that he -considered it pretty well seasoned now it had done for Huskisson. Mr. -Raffles on most occasions kept up the sense of having been educated at -an academy, and being able, if he chose, to pass well everywhere; -indeed, there was not one of his fellow-men whom he did not feel -himself in a position to ridicule and torment, confident of the -entertainment which he thus gave to all the rest of the company. - -He played this part now with as much spirit as if his journey had been -entirely successful, resorting at frequent intervals to his flask. The -paper with which he had wedged it was a letter signed _Nicholas -Bulstrode_, but Raffles was not likely to disturb it from its present -useful position. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - -How much, methinks, I could despise this man -Were I not bound in charity against it! -SHAKESPEARE: _Henry VIII_. - - -One of the professional calls made by Lydgate soon after his return -from his wedding-journey was to Lowick Manor, in consequence of a -letter which had requested him to fix a time for his visit. - -Mr. Casaubon had never put any question concerning the nature of his -illness to Lydgate, nor had he even to Dorothea betrayed any anxiety as -to how far it might be likely to cut short his labors or his life. On -this point, as on all others, he shrank from pity; and if the suspicion -of being pitied for anything in his lot surmised or known in spite of -himself was embittering, the idea of calling forth a show of compassion -by frankly admitting an alarm or a sorrow was necessarily intolerable -to him. Every proud mind knows something of this experience, and -perhaps it is only to be overcome by a sense of fellowship deep enough -to make all efforts at isolation seem mean and petty instead of -exalting. - -But Mr. Casaubon was now brooding over something through which the -question of his health and life haunted his silence with a more -harassing importunity even than through the autumnal unripeness of his -authorship. It is true that this last might be called his central -ambition; but there are some kinds of authorship in which by far the -largest result is the uneasy susceptibility accumulated in the -consciousness of the authorone knows of the river by a few streaks -amid a long-gathered deposit of uncomfortable mud. That was the way -with Mr. Casaubons hard intellectual labors. Their most characteristic -result was not the Key to all Mythologies, but a morbid consciousness -that others did not give him the place which he had not demonstrably -meriteda perpetual suspicious conjecture that the views entertained of -him were not to his advantagea melancholy absence of passion in his -efforts at achievement, and a passionate resistance to the confession -that he had achieved nothing. - -Thus his intellectual ambition which seemed to others to have absorbed -and dried him, was really no security against wounds, least of all -against those which came from Dorothea. And he had begun now to frame -possibilities for the future which were somehow more embittering to him -than anything his mind had dwelt on before. - -Against certain facts he was helpless: against Will Ladislaws -existence, his defiant stay in the neighborhood of Lowick, and his -flippant state of mind with regard to the possessors of authentic, -well-stamped erudition: against Dorotheas nature, always taking on -some new shape of ardent activity, and even in submission and silence -covering fervid reasons which it was an irritation to think of: against -certain notions and likings which had taken possession of her mind in -relation to subjects that he could not possibly discuss with her. There -was no denying that Dorothea was as virtuous and lovely a young lady as -he could have obtained for a wife; but a young lady turned out to be -something more troublesome than he had conceived. She nursed him, she -read to him, she anticipated his wants, and was solicitous about his -feelings; but there had entered into the husbands mind the certainty -that she judged him, and that her wifely devotedness was like a -penitential expiation of unbelieving thoughtswas accompanied with a -power of comparison by which himself and his doings were seen too -luminously as a part of things in general. His discontent passed -vapor-like through all her gentle loving manifestations, and clung to -that inappreciative world which she had only brought nearer to him. - -Poor Mr. Casaubon! This suffering was the harder to bear because it -seemed like a betrayal: the young creature who had worshipped him with -perfect trust had quickly turned into the critical wife; and early -instances of criticism and resentment had made an impression which no -tenderness and submission afterwards could remove. To his suspicious -interpretation Dorotheas silence now was a suppressed rebellion; a -remark from her which he had not in any way anticipated was an -assertion of conscious superiority; her gentle answers had an -irritating cautiousness in them; and when she acquiesced it was a -self-approved effort of forbearance. The tenacity with which he strove -to hide this inward drama made it the more vivid for him; as we hear -with the more keenness what we wish others not to hear. - -Instead of wondering at this result of misery in Mr. Casaubon, I think -it quite ordinary. Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot -out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the -blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self. And who, if Mr. Casaubon -had chosen to expound his discontentshis suspicions that he was not -any longer adored without criticismcould have denied that they were -founded on good reasons? On the contrary, there was a strong reason to -be added, which he had not himself taken explicitly into -accountnamely, that he was not unmixedly adorable. He suspected this, -however, as he suspected other things, without confessing it, and like -the rest of us, felt how soothing it would have been to have a -companion who would never find it out. - -This sore susceptibility in relation to Dorothea was thoroughly -prepared before Will Ladislaw had returned to Lowick, and what had -occurred since then had brought Mr. Casaubons power of suspicious -construction into exasperated activity. To all the facts which he knew, -he added imaginary facts both present and future which became more real -to him than those because they called up a stronger dislike, a more -predominating bitterness. Suspicion and jealousy of Will Ladislaws -intentions, suspicion and jealousy of Dorotheas impressions, were -constantly at their weaving work. It would be quite unjust to him to -suppose that he could have entered into any coarse misinterpretation of -Dorothea: his own habits of mind and conduct, quite as much as the open -elevation of her nature, saved him from any such mistake. What he was -jealous of was her opinion, the sway that might be given to her ardent -mind in its judgments, and the future possibilities to which these -might lead her. As to Will, though until his last defiant letter he had -nothing definite which he would choose formally to allege against him, -he felt himself warranted in believing that he was capable of any -design which could fascinate a rebellious temper and an undisciplined -impulsiveness. He was quite sure that Dorothea was the cause of Wills -return from Rome, and his determination to settle in the neighborhood; -and he was penetrating enough to imagine that Dorothea had innocently -encouraged this course. It was as clear as possible that she was ready -to be attached to Will and to be pliant to his suggestions: they had -never had a _tte--tte_ without her bringing away from it some new -troublesome impression, and the last interview that Mr. Casaubon was -aware of (Dorothea, on returning from Freshitt Hall, had for the first -time been silent about having seen Will) had led to a scene which -roused an angrier feeling against them both than he had ever known -before. Dorotheas outpouring of her notions about money, in the -darkness of the night, had done nothing but bring a mixture of more -odious foreboding into her husbands mind. - -And there was the shock lately given to his health always sadly present -with him. He was certainly much revived; he had recovered all his usual -power of work: the illness might have been mere fatigue, and there -might still be twenty years of achievement before him, which would -justify the thirty years of preparation. That prospect was made the -sweeter by a flavor of vengeance against the hasty sneers of Carp & -Company; for even when Mr. Casaubon was carrying his taper among the -tombs of the past, those modern figures came athwart the dim light, and -interrupted his diligent exploration. To convince Carp of his mistake, -so that he would have to eat his own words with a good deal of -indigestion, would be an agreeable accident of triumphant authorship, -which the prospect of living to future ages on earth and to all -eternity in heaven could not exclude from contemplation. Since, thus, -the prevision of his own unending bliss could not nullify the bitter -savors of irritated jealousy and vindictiveness, it is the less -surprising that the probability of a transient earthly bliss for other -persons, when he himself should have entered into glory, had not a -potently sweetening effect. If the truth should be that some -undermining disease was at work within him, there might be large -opportunity for some people to be the happier when he was gone; and if -one of those people should be Will Ladislaw, Mr. Casaubon objected so -strongly that it seemed as if the annoyance would make part of his -disembodied existence. - -This is a very bare and therefore a very incomplete way of putting the -case. The human soul moves in many channels, and Mr. Casaubon, we know, -had a sense of rectitude and an honorable pride in satisfying the -requirements of honor, which compelled him to find other reasons for -his conduct than those of jealousy and vindictiveness. The way in which -Mr. Casaubon put the case was this:In marrying Dorothea Brooke I had -to care for her well-being in case of my death. But well-being is not -to be secured by ample, independent possession of property; on the -contrary, occasions might arise in which such possession might expose -her to the more danger. She is ready prey to any man who knows how to -play adroitly either on her affectionate ardor or her Quixotic -enthusiasm; and a man stands by with that very intention in his minda -man with no other principle than transient caprice, and who has a -personal animosity towards meI am sure of itan animosity which is fed -by the consciousness of his ingratitude, and which he has constantly -vented in ridicule of which I am as well assured as if I had heard it. -Even if I live I shall not be without uneasiness as to what he may -attempt through indirect influence. This man has gained Dorotheas ear: -he has fascinated her attention; he has evidently tried to impress her -mind with the notion that he has claims beyond anything I have done for -him. If I dieand he is waiting here on the watch for thathe will -persuade her to marry him. That would be calamity for her and success -for him. _She_ would not think it calamity: he would make her believe -anything; she has a tendency to immoderate attachment which she -inwardly reproaches me for not responding to, and already her mind is -occupied with his fortunes. He thinks of an easy conquest and of -entering into my nest. That I will hinder! Such a marriage would be -fatal to Dorothea. Has he ever persisted in anything except from -contradiction? In knowledge he has always tried to be showy at small -cost. In religion he could be, as long as it suited him, the facile -echo of Dorotheas vagaries. When was sciolism ever dissociated from -laxity? I utterly distrust his morals, and it is my duty to hinder to -the utmost the fulfilment of his designs. - -The arrangements made by Mr. Casaubon on his marriage left strong -measures open to him, but in ruminating on them his mind inevitably -dwelt so much on the probabilities of his own life that the longing to -get the nearest possible calculation had at last overcome his proud -reticence, and had determined him to ask Lydgates opinion as to the -nature of his illness. - -He had mentioned to Dorothea that Lydgate was coming by appointment at -half-past three, and in answer to her anxious question, whether he had -felt ill, replied,No, I merely wish to have his opinion concerning -some habitual symptoms. You need not see him, my dear. I shall give -orders that he may be sent to me in the Yew-tree Walk, where I shall be -taking my usual exercise. - -When Lydgate entered the Yew-tree Walk he saw Mr. Casaubon slowly -receding with his hands behind him according to his habit, and his head -bent forward. It was a lovely afternoon; the leaves from the lofty -limes were falling silently across the sombre evergreens, while the -lights and shadows slept side by side: there was no sound but the -cawing of the rooks, which to the accustomed ear is a lullaby, or that -last solemn lullaby, a dirge. Lydgate, conscious of an energetic frame -in its prime, felt some compassion when the figure which he was likely -soon to overtake turned round, and in advancing towards him showed more -markedly than ever the signs of premature agethe students bent -shoulders, the emaciated limbs, and the melancholy lines of the mouth. -Poor fellow, he thought, some men with his years are like lions; one -can tell nothing of their age except that they are full grown. - -Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. Casaubon, with his invariably polite air, I am -exceedingly obliged to you for your punctuality. We will, if you -please, carry on our conversation in walking to and fro. - -I hope your wish to see me is not due to the return of unpleasant -symptoms, said Lydgate, filling up a pause. - -Not immediatelyno. In order to account for that wish I must -mentionwhat it were otherwise needless to refer tothat my life, on -all collateral accounts insignificant, derives a possible importance -from the incompleteness of labors which have extended through all its -best years. In short, I have long had on hand a work which I would fain -leave behind me in such a state, at least, that it might be committed -to the press byothers. Were I assured that this is the utmost I can -reasonably expect, that assurance would be a useful circumscription of -my attempts, and a guide in both the positive and negative -determination of my course. - -Here Mr. Casaubon paused, removed one hand from his back and thrust it -between the buttons of his single-breasted coat. To a mind largely -instructed in the human destiny hardly anything could be more -interesting than the inward conflict implied in his formal measured -address, delivered with the usual sing-song and motion of the head. -Nay, are there many situations more sublimely tragic than the struggle -of the soul with the demand to renounce a work which has been all the -significance of its lifea significance which is to vanish as the -waters which come and go where no man has need of them? But there was -nothing to strike others as sublime about Mr. Casaubon, and Lydgate, -who had some contempt at hand for futile scholarship, felt a little -amusement mingling with his pity. He was at present too ill acquainted -with disaster to enter into the pathos of a lot where everything is -below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the -sufferer. - -You refer to the possible hindrances from want of health? he said, -wishing to help forward Mr. Casaubons purpose, which seemed to be -clogged by some hesitation. - -I do. You have not implied to me that the symptoms whichI am bound to -testifyyou watched with scrupulous care, were those of a fatal -disease. But were it so, Mr. Lydgate, I should desire to know the truth -without reservation, and I appeal to you for an exact statement of your -conclusions: I request it as a friendly service. If you can tell me -that my life is not threatened by anything else than ordinary -casualties, I shall rejoice, on grounds which I have already indicated. -If not, knowledge of the truth is even more important to me. - -Then I can no longer hesitate as to my course, said Lydgate; but the -first thing I must impress on you is that my conclusions are doubly -uncertainuncertain not only because of my fallibility, but because -diseases of the heart are eminently difficult to found predictions on. -In any case, one can hardly increase appreciably the tremendous -uncertainty of life. - -Mr. Casaubon winced perceptibly, but bowed. - -I believe that you are suffering from what is called fatty -degeneration of the heart, a disease which was first divined and -explored by Laennec, the man who gave us the stethoscope, not so very -many years ago. A good deal of experiencea more lengthened -observationis wanting on the subject. But after what you have said, it -is my duty to tell you that death from this disease is often sudden. At -the same time, no such result can be predicted. Your condition may be -consistent with a tolerably comfortable life for another fifteen years, -or even more. I could add no information to this beyond anatomical or -medical details, which would leave expectation at precisely the same -point. Lydgates instinct was fine enough to tell him that plain -speech, quite free from ostentatious caution, would be felt by Mr. -Casaubon as a tribute of respect. - -I thank you, Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. Casaubon, after a moments pause. -One thing more I have still to ask: did you communicate what you have -now told me to Mrs. Casaubon? - -PartlyI mean, as to the possible issues. Lydgate was going to -explain why he had told Dorothea, but Mr. Casaubon, with an -unmistakable desire to end the conversation, waved his hand slightly, -and said again, I thank you, proceeding to remark on the rare beauty -of the day. - -Lydgate, certain that his patient wished to be alone, soon left him; -and the black figure with hands behind and head bent forward continued -to pace the walk where the dark yew-trees gave him a mute companionship -in melancholy, and the little shadows of bird or leaf that fleeted -across the isles of sunlight, stole along in silence as in the presence -of a sorrow. Here was a man who now for the first time found himself -looking into the eyes of deathwho was passing through one of those -rare moments of experience when we feel the truth of a commonplace, -which is as different from what we call knowing it, as the vision of -waters upon the earth is different from the delirious vision of the -water which cannot be had to cool the burning tongue. When the -commonplace We must all die transforms itself suddenly into the acute -consciousness I must dieand soon, then death grapples us, and his -fingers are cruel; afterwards, he may come to fold us in his arms as -our mother did, and our last moment of dim earthly discerning may be -like the first. To Mr. Casaubon now, it was as if he suddenly found -himself on the dark river-brink and heard the plash of the oncoming -oar, not discerning the forms, but expecting the summons. In such an -hour the mind does not change its lifelong bias, but carries it onward -in imagination to the other side of death, gazing backwardperhaps with -the divine calm of beneficence, perhaps with the petty anxieties of -self-assertion. What was Mr. Casaubons bias his acts will give us a -clew to. He held himself to be, with some private scholarly -reservations, a believing Christian, as to estimates of the present and -hopes of the future. But what we strive to gratify, though we may call -it a distant hope, is an immediate desire: the future estate for which -men drudge up city alleys exists already in their imagination and love. -And Mr. Casaubons immediate desire was not for divine communion and -light divested of earthly conditions; his passionate longings, poor -man, clung low and mist-like in very shady places. - -Dorothea had been aware when Lydgate had ridden away, and she had -stepped into the garden, with the impulse to go at once to her husband. -But she hesitated, fearing to offend him by obtruding herself; for her -ardor, continually repulsed, served, with her intense memory, to -heighten her dread, as thwarted energy subsides into a shudder; and she -wandered slowly round the nearer clumps of trees until she saw him -advancing. Then she went towards him, and might have represented a -heaven-sent angel coming with a promise that the short hours remaining -should yet be filled with that faithful love which clings the closer to -a comprehended grief. His glance in reply to hers was so chill that she -felt her timidity increased; yet she turned and passed her hand through -his arm. - -Mr. Casaubon kept his hands behind him and allowed her pliant arm to -cling with difficulty against his rigid arm. - -There was something horrible to Dorothea in the sensation which this -unresponsive hardness inflicted on her. That is a strong word, but not -too strong: it is in these acts called trivialities that the seeds of -joy are forever wasted, until men and women look round with haggard -faces at the devastation their own waste has made, and say, the earth -bears no harvest of sweetnesscalling their denial knowledge. You may -ask why, in the name of manliness, Mr. Casaubon should have behaved in -that way. Consider that his was a mind which shrank from pity: have you -ever watched in such a mind the effect of a suspicion that what is -pressing it as a grief may be really a source of contentment, either -actual or future, to the being who already offends by pitying? Besides, -he knew little of Dorotheas sensations, and had not reflected that on -such an occasion as the present they were comparable in strength to his -own sensibilities about Carps criticisms. - -Dorothea did not withdraw her arm, but she could not venture to speak. -Mr. Casaubon did not say, I wish to be alone, but he directed his -steps in silence towards the house, and as they entered by the glass -door on this eastern side, Dorothea withdrew her arm and lingered on -the matting, that she might leave her husband quite free. He entered -the library and shut himself in, alone with his sorrow. - -She went up to her boudoir. The open bow-window let in the serene glory -of the afternoon lying in the avenue, where the lime-trees cast long -shadows. But Dorothea knew nothing of the scene. She threw herself on a -chair, not heeding that she was in the dazzling sun-rays: if there were -discomfort in that, how could she tell that it was not part of her -inward misery? - -She was in the reaction of a rebellious anger stronger than any she had -felt since her marriage. Instead of tears there came words: - -What have I donewhat am Ithat he should treat me so? He never knows -what is in my mindhe never cares. What is the use of anything I do? He -wishes he had never married me. - -She began to hear herself, and was checked into stillness. Like one who -has lost his way and is weary, she sat and saw as in one glance all the -paths of her young hope which she should never find again. And just as -clearly in the miserable light she saw her own and her husbands -solitudehow they walked apart so that she was obliged to survey him. -If he had drawn her towards him, she would never have surveyed -himnever have said, Is he worth living for? but would have felt him -simply a part of her own life. Now she said bitterly, It is his fault, -not mine. In the jar of her whole being, Pity was overthrown. Was it -her fault that she had believed in himhad believed in his -worthiness?And what, exactly, was he? She was able enough to estimate -himshe who waited on his glances with trembling, and shut her best -soul in prison, paying it only hidden visits, that she might be petty -enough to please him. In such a crisis as this, some women begin to -hate. - -The sun was low when Dorothea was thinking that she would not go down -again, but would send a message to her husband saying that she was not -well and preferred remaining up-stairs. She had never deliberately -allowed her resentment to govern her in this way before, but she -believed now that she could not see him again without telling him the -truth about her feeling, and she must wait till she could do it without -interruption. He might wonder and be hurt at her message. It was good -that he should wonder and be hurt. Her anger said, as anger is apt to -say, that God was with herthat all heaven, though it were crowded with -spirits watching them, must be on her side. She had determined to ring -her bell, when there came a rap at the door. - -Mr. Casaubon had sent to say that he would have his dinner in the -library. He wished to be quite alone this evening, being much occupied. - -I shall not dine, then, Tantripp. - -Oh, madam, let me bring you a little something? - -No; I am not well. Get everything ready in my dressing room, but pray -do not disturb me again. - -Dorothea sat almost motionless in her meditative struggle, while the -evening slowly deepened into night. But the struggle changed -continually, as that of a man who begins with a movement towards -striking and ends with conquering his desire to strike. The energy that -would animate a crime is not more than is wanted to inspire a resolved -submission, when the noble habit of the soul reasserts itself. That -thought with which Dorothea had gone out to meet her husbandher -conviction that he had been asking about the possible arrest of all his -work, and that the answer must have wrung his heart, could not be long -without rising beside the image of him, like a shadowy monitor looking -at her anger with sad remonstrance. It cost her a litany of pictured -sorrows and of silent cries that she might be the mercy for those -sorrowsbut the resolved submission did come; and when the house was -still, and she knew that it was near the time when Mr. Casaubon -habitually went to rest, she opened her door gently and stood outside -in the darkness waiting for his coming up-stairs with a light in his -hand. If he did not come soon she thought that she would go down and -even risk incurring another pang. She would never again expect anything -else. But she did hear the library door open, and slowly the light -advanced up the staircase without noise from the footsteps on the -carpet. When her husband stood opposite to her, she saw that his face -was more haggard. He started slightly on seeing her, and she looked up -at him beseechingly, without speaking. - -Dorothea! he said, with a gentle surprise in his tone. Were you -waiting for me? - -Yes, I did not like to disturb you. - -Come, my dear, come. You are young, and need not to extend your life -by watching. - -When the kind quiet melancholy of that speech fell on Dorotheas ears, -she felt something like the thankfulness that might well up in us if we -had narrowly escaped hurting a lamed creature. She put her hand into -her husbands, and they went along the broad corridor together. - - - - -BOOK V. -THE DEAD HAND. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - -This figure hath high price: t was wrought with love -Ages ago in finest ivory; -Nought modish in it, pure and noble lines -Of generous womanhood that fits all time -That too is costly ware; majolica -Of deft design, to please a lordly eye: -The smile, you see, is perfectwonderful -As mere Faience! a table ornament -To suit the richest mounting. - - -Dorothea seldom left home without her husband, but she did occasionally -drive into Middlemarch alone, on little errands of shopping or charity -such as occur to every lady of any wealth when she lives within three -miles of a town. Two days after that scene in the Yew-tree Walk, she -determined to use such an opportunity in order if possible to see -Lydgate, and learn from him whether her husband had really felt any -depressing change of symptoms which he was concealing from her, and -whether he had insisted on knowing the utmost about himself. She felt -almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but the -dread of being without itthe dread of that ignorance which would make -her unjust or hardovercame every scruple. That there had been some -crisis in her husbands mind she was certain: he had the very next day -begun a new method of arranging his notes, and had associated her quite -newly in carrying out his plan. Poor Dorothea needed to lay up stores -of patience. - -It was about four oclock when she drove to Lydgates house in Lowick -Gate, wishing, in her immediate doubt of finding him at home, that she -had written beforehand. And he was not at home. - -Is Mrs. Lydgate at home? said Dorothea, who had never, that she knew -of, seen Rosamond, but now remembered the fact of the marriage. Yes, -Mrs. Lydgate was at home. - -I will go in and speak to her, if she will allow me. Will you ask her -if she can see mesee Mrs. Casaubon, for a few minutes? - -When the servant had gone to deliver that message, Dorothea could hear -sounds of music through an open windowa few notes from a mans voice -and then a piano bursting into roulades. But the roulades broke off -suddenly, and then the servant came back saying that Mrs. Lydgate would -be happy to see Mrs. Casaubon. - -When the drawing-room door opened and Dorothea entered, there was a -sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the habits of the -different ranks were less blent than now. Let those who know, tell us -exactly what stuff it was that Dorothea wore in those days of mild -autumnthat thin white woollen stuff soft to the touch and soft to the -eye. It always seemed to have been lately washed, and to smell of the -sweet hedgeswas always in the shape of a pelisse with sleeves hanging -all out of the fashion. Yet if she had entered before a still audience -as Imogene or Catos daughter, the dress might have seemed right -enough: the grace and dignity were in her limbs and neck; and about her -simply parted hair and candid eyes the large round poke which was then -in the fate of women, seemed no more odd as a head-dress than the gold -trencher we call a halo. By the present audience of two persons, no -dramatic heroine could have been expected with more interest than Mrs. -Casaubon. To Rosamond she was one of those county divinities not mixing -with Middlemarch mortality, whose slightest marks of manner or -appearance were worthy of her study; moreover, Rosamond was not without -satisfaction that Mrs. Casaubon should have an opportunity of studying -_her_. What is the use of being exquisite if you are not seen by the -best judges? and since Rosamond had received the highest compliments at -Sir Godwin Lydgates, she felt quite confident of the impression she -must make on people of good birth. Dorothea put out her hand with her -usual simple kindness, and looked admiringly at Lydgates lovely -brideaware that there was a gentleman standing at a distance, but -seeing him merely as a coated figure at a wide angle. The gentleman was -too much occupied with the presence of the one woman to reflect on the -contrast between the twoa contrast that would certainly have been -striking to a calm observer. They were both tall, and their eyes were -on a level; but imagine Rosamonds infantine blondness and wondrous -crown of hair-plaits, with her pale-blue dress of a fit and fashion so -perfect that no dressmaker could look at it without emotion, a large -embroidered collar which it was to be hoped all beholders would know -the price of, her small hands duly set off with rings, and that -controlled self-consciousness of manner which is the expensive -substitute for simplicity. - -Thank you very much for allowing me to interrupt you, said Dorothea, -immediately. I am anxious to see Mr. Lydgate, if possible, before I go -home, and I hoped that you might possibly tell me where I could find -him, or even allow me to wait for him, if you expect him soon. - -He is at the New Hospital, said Rosamond; I am not sure how soon he -will come home. But I can send for him. - -Will you let me go and fetch him? said Will Ladislaw, coming forward. -He had already taken up his hat before Dorothea entered. She colored -with surprise, but put out her hand with a smile of unmistakable -pleasure, saying - -I did not know it was you: I had no thought of seeing you here. - -May I go to the Hospital and tell Mr. Lydgate that you wish to see -him? said Will. - -It would be quicker to send the carriage for him, said Dorothea, if -you will be kind enough to give the message to the coachman. - -Will was moving to the door when Dorothea, whose mind had flashed in an -instant over many connected memories, turned quickly and said, I will -go myself, thank you. I wish to lose no time before getting home again. -I will drive to the Hospital and see Mr. Lydgate there. Pray excuse me, -Mrs. Lydgate. I am very much obliged to you. - -Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, and she left -the room hardly conscious of what was immediately around herhardly -conscious that Will opened the door for her and offered her his arm to -lead her to the carriage. She took the arm but said nothing. Will was -feeling rather vexed and miserable, and found nothing to say on his -side. He handed her into the carriage in silence, they said good-by, -and Dorothea drove away. - -In the five minutes drive to the Hospital she had time for some -reflections that were quite new to her. Her decision to go, and her -preoccupation in leaving the room, had come from the sudden sense that -there would be a sort of deception in her voluntarily allowing any -further intercourse between herself and Will which she was unable to -mention to her husband, and already her errand in seeking Lydgate was a -matter of concealment. That was all that had been explicitly in her -mind; but she had been urged also by a vague discomfort. Now that she -was alone in her drive, she heard the notes of the mans voice and the -accompanying piano, which she had not noted much at the time, returning -on her inward sense; and she found herself thinking with some wonder -that Will Ladislaw was passing his time with Mrs. Lydgate in her -husbands absence. And then she could not help remembering that he had -passed some time with her under like circumstances, so why should there -be any unfitness in the fact? But Will was Mr. Casaubons relative, and -one towards whom she was bound to show kindness. Still there had been -signs which perhaps she ought to have understood as implying that Mr. -Casaubon did not like his cousins visits during his own absence. -Perhaps I have been mistaken in many things, said poor Dorothea to -herself, while the tears came rolling and she had to dry them quickly. -She felt confusedly unhappy, and the image of Will which had been so -clear to her before was mysteriously spoiled. But the carriage stopped -at the gate of the Hospital. She was soon walking round the grass plots -with Lydgate, and her feelings recovered the strong bent which had made -her seek for this interview. - -Will Ladislaw, meanwhile, was mortified, and knew the reason of it -clearly enough. His chances of meeting Dorothea were rare; and here for -the first time there had come a chance which had set him at a -disadvantage. It was not only, as it had been hitherto, that she was -not supremely occupied with him, but that she had seen him under -circumstances in which he might appear not to be supremely occupied -with her. He felt thrust to a new distance from her, amongst the -circles of Middlemarchers who made no part of her life. But that was -not his fault: of course, since he had taken his lodgings in the town, -he had been making as many acquaintances as he could, his position -requiring that he should know everybody and everything. Lydgate was -really better worth knowing than any one else in the neighborhood, and -he happened to have a wife who was musical and altogether worth calling -upon. Here was the whole history of the situation in which Diana had -descended too unexpectedly on her worshipper. It was mortifying. Will -was conscious that he should not have been at Middlemarch but for -Dorothea; and yet his position there was threatening to divide him from -her with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are more fatal to -the persistence of mutual interest than all the distance between Rome -and Britain. Prejudices about rank and status were easy enough to defy -in the form of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Casaubon; but prejudices, -like odorous bodies, have a double existence both solid and -subtlesolid as the pyramids, subtle as the twentieth echo of an echo, -or as the memory of hyacinths which once scented the darkness. And Will -was of a temperament to feel keenly the presence of subtleties: a man -of clumsier perceptions would not have felt, as he did, that for the -first time some sense of unfitness in perfect freedom with him had -sprung up in Dorotheas mind, and that their silence, as he conducted -her to the carriage, had had a chill in it. Perhaps Casaubon, in his -hatred and jealousy, had been insisting to Dorothea that Will had slid -below her socially. Confound Casaubon! - -Will re-entered the drawing-room, took up his hat, and looking -irritated as he advanced towards Mrs. Lydgate, who had seated herself -at her work-table, said - -It is always fatal to have music or poetry interrupted. May I come -another day and just finish about the rendering of Lungi dal caro -bene? - -I shall be happy to be taught, said Rosamond. But I am sure you -admit that the interruption was a very beautiful one. I quite envy your -acquaintance with Mrs. Casaubon. Is she very clever? She looks as if -she were. - -Really, I never thought about it, said Will, sulkily. - -That is just the answer Tertius gave me, when I first asked him if she -were handsome. What is it that you gentlemen are thinking of when you -are with Mrs. Casaubon? - -Herself, said Will, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. -Lydgate. When one sees a perfect woman, one never thinks of her -attributesone is conscious of her presence. - -I shall be jealous when Tertius goes to Lowick, said Rosamond, -dimpling, and speaking with aery lightness. He will come back and -think nothing of me. - -That does not seem to have been the effect on Lydgate hitherto. Mrs. -Casaubon is too unlike other women for them to be compared with her. - -You are a devout worshipper, I perceive. You often see her, I -suppose. - -No, said Will, almost pettishly. Worship is usually a matter of -theory rather than of practice. But I am practising it to excess just -at this momentI must really tear myself away. - -Pray come again some evening: Mr. Lydgate will like to hear the music, -and I cannot enjoy it so well without him. - -When her husband was at home again, Rosamond said, standing in front of -him and holding his coat-collar with both her hands, Mr. Ladislaw was -here singing with me when Mrs. Casaubon came in. He seemed vexed. Do -you think he disliked her seeing him at our house? Surely your position -is more than equal to hiswhatever may be his relation to the -Casaubons. - -No, no; it must be something else if he were really vexed. Ladislaw is -a sort of gypsy; he thinks nothing of leather and prunella. - -Music apart, he is not always very agreeable. Do you like him? - -Yes: I think he is a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and -bric-a-brac, but likable. - -Do you know, I think he adores Mrs. Casaubon. - -Poor devil! said Lydgate, smiling and pinching his wifes ears. - -Rosamond felt herself beginning to know a great deal of the world, -especially in discovering what when she was in her unmarried girlhood -had been inconceivable to her except as a dim tragedy in by-gone -costumesthat women, even after marriage, might make conquests and -enslave men. At that time young ladies in the country, even when -educated at Mrs. Lemons, read little French literature later than -Racine, and public prints had not cast their present magnificent -illumination over the scandals of life. Still, vanity, with a womans -whole mind and day to work in, can construct abundantly on slight -hints, especially on such a hint as the possibility of indefinite -conquests. How delightful to make captives from the throne of marriage -with a husband as crown-prince by your sidehimself in fact a -subjectwhile the captives look up forever hopeless, losing their rest -probably, and if their appetite too, so much the better! But Rosamonds -romance turned at present chiefly on her crown-prince, and it was -enough to enjoy his assured subjection. When he said, Poor devil! she -asked, with playful curiosity - -Why so? - -Why, what can a man do when he takes to adoring one of you mermaids? -He only neglects his work and runs up bills. - -I am sure you do not neglect your work. You are always at the -Hospital, or seeing poor patients, or thinking about some doctors -quarrel; and then at home you always want to pore over your microscope -and phials. Confess you like those things better than me. - -Havent you ambition enough to wish that your husband should be -something better than a Middlemarch doctor? said Lydgate, letting his -hands fall on to his wifes shoulders, and looking at her with -affectionate gravity. I shall make you learn my favorite bit from an -old poet - -Why should our pride make such a stir to be -And be forgot? What good is like to this, -To do worthy the writing, and to write -Worthy the reading and the worlds delight? - - -What I want, Rosy, is to do worthy the writing,and to write out myself -what I have done. A man must work, to do that, my pet. - -Of course, I wish you to make discoveries: no one could more wish you -to attain a high position in some better place than Middlemarch. You -cannot say that I have ever tried to hinder you from working. But we -cannot live like hermits. You are not discontented with me, Tertius? - -No, dear, no. I am too entirely contented. - -But what did Mrs. Casaubon want to say to you? - -Merely to ask about her husbands health. But I think she is going to -be splendid to our New Hospital: I think she will give us two hundred -a-year. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - -I would not creep along the coast but steer -Out in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars. - - -When Dorothea, walking round the laurel-planted plots of the New -Hospital with Lydgate, had learned from him that there were no signs of -change in Mr. Casaubons bodily condition beyond the mental sign of -anxiety to know the truth about his illness, she was silent for a few -moments, wondering whether she had said or done anything to rouse this -new anxiety. Lydgate, not willing to let slip an opportunity of -furthering a favorite purpose, ventured to say - -I dont know whether your or Mr. Casaubons attention has been drawn -to the needs of our New Hospital. Circumstances have made it seem -rather egotistic in me to urge the subject; but that is not my fault: -it is because there is a fight being made against it by the other -medical men. I think you are generally interested in such things, for I -remember that when I first had the pleasure of seeing you at Tipton -Grange before your marriage, you were asking me some questions about -the way in which the health of the poor was affected by their miserable -housing. - -Yes, indeed, said Dorothea, brightening. I shall be quite grateful -to you if you will tell me how I can help to make things a little -better. Everything of that sort has slipped away from me since I have -been married. I mean, she said, after a moments hesitation, that the -people in our village are tolerably comfortable, and my mind has been -too much taken up for me to inquire further. But herein such a place -as Middlemarchthere must be a great deal to be done. - -There is everything to be done, said Lydgate, with abrupt energy. -And this Hospital is a capital piece of work, due entirely to Mr. -Bulstrodes exertions, and in a great degree to his money. But one man -cant do everything in a scheme of this sort. Of course he looked -forward to help. And now theres a mean, petty feud set up against the -thing in the town, by certain persons who want to make it a failure. - -What can be their reasons? said Dorothea, with naive surprise. - -Chiefly Mr. Bulstrodes unpopularity, to begin with. Half the town -would almost take trouble for the sake of thwarting him. In this stupid -world most people never consider that a thing is good to be done unless -it is done by their own set. I had no connection with Bulstrode before -I came here. I look at him quite impartially, and I see that he has -some notionsthat he has set things on footwhich I can turn to good -public purpose. If a fair number of the better educated men went to -work with the belief that their observations might contribute to the -reform of medical doctrine and practice, we should soon see a change -for the better. Thats my point of view. I hold that by refusing to -work with Mr. Bulstrode I should be turning my back on an opportunity -of making my profession more generally serviceable. - -I quite agree with you, said Dorothea, at once fascinated by the -situation sketched in Lydgates words. But what is there against Mr. -Bulstrode? I know that my uncle is friendly with him. - -People dont like his religious tone, said Lydgate, breaking off -there. - -That is all the stronger reason for despising such an opposition, -said Dorothea, looking at the affairs of Middlemarch by the light of -the great persecutions. - -To put the matter quite fairly, they have other objections to him:he -is masterful and rather unsociable, and he is concerned with trade, -which has complaints of its own that I know nothing about. But what has -that to do with the question whether it would not be a fine thing to -establish here a more valuable hospital than any they have in the -county? The immediate motive to the opposition, however, is the fact -that Bulstrode has put the medical direction into my hands. Of course I -am glad of that. It gives me an opportunity of doing some good -work,and I am aware that I have to justify his choice of me. But the -consequence is, that the whole profession in Middlemarch have set -themselves tooth and nail against the Hospital, and not only refuse to -cooperate themselves, but try to blacken the whole affair and hinder -subscriptions. - -How very petty! exclaimed Dorothea, indignantly. - -I suppose one must expect to fight ones way: there is hardly anything -to be done without it. And the ignorance of people about here is -stupendous. I dont lay claim to anything else than having used some -opportunities which have not come within everybodys reach; but there -is no stifling the offence of being young, and a new-comer, and -happening to know something more than the old inhabitants. Still, if I -believe that I can set going a better method of treatmentif I believe -that I can pursue certain observations and inquiries which may be a -lasting benefit to medical practice, I should be a base truckler if I -allowed any consideration of personal comfort to hinder me. And the -course is all the clearer from there being no salary in question to put -my persistence in an equivocal light. - -I am glad you have told me this, Mr. Lydgate, said Dorothea, -cordially. I feel sure I can help a little. I have some money, and -dont know what to do with itthat is often an uncomfortable thought to -me. I am sure I can spare two hundred a-year for a grand purpose like -this. How happy you must be, to know things that you feel sure will do -great good! I wish I could awake with that knowledge every morning. -There seems to be so much trouble taken that one can hardly see the -good of! - -There was a melancholy cadence in Dorotheas voice as she spoke these -last words. But she presently added, more cheerfully, Pray come to -Lowick and tell us more of this. I will mention the subject to Mr. -Casaubon. I must hasten home now. - -She did mention it that evening, and said that she should like to -subscribe two hundred a-yearshe had seven hundred a-year as the -equivalent of her own fortune, settled on her at her marriage. Mr. -Casaubon made no objection beyond a passing remark that the sum might -be disproportionate in relation to other good objects, but when -Dorothea in her ignorance resisted that suggestion, he acquiesced. He -did not care himself about spending money, and was not reluctant to -give it. If he ever felt keenly any question of money it was through -the medium of another passion than the love of material property. - -Dorothea told him that she had seen Lydgate, and recited the gist of -her conversation with him about the Hospital. Mr. Casaubon did not -question her further, but he felt sure that she had wished to know what -had passed between Lydgate and himself. She knows that I know, said -the ever-restless voice within; but that increase of tacit knowledge -only thrust further off any confidence between them. He distrusted her -affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust? - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - -It is the humor of many heads to extol the days of their forefathers, -and declaim against the wickedness of times present. Which -notwithstanding they cannot handsomely do, without the borrowed help -and satire of times past; condemning the vices of their own times, by -the expressions of vices in times which they commend, which cannot but -argue the community of vice in both. Horace, therefore, Juvenal, and -Persius, were no prophets, although their lines did seem to indigitate -and point at our times.SIR THOMAS BROWNE: _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_. - - -That opposition to the New Fever Hospital which Lydgate had sketched to -Dorothea was, like other oppositions, to be viewed in many different -lights. He regarded it as a mixture of jealousy and dunderheaded -prejudice. Mr. Bulstrode saw in it not only medical jealousy but a -determination to thwart himself, prompted mainly by a hatred of that -vital religion of which he had striven to be an effectual lay -representativea hatred which certainly found pretexts apart from -religion such as were only too easy to find in the entanglements of -human action. These might be called the ministerial views. But -oppositions have the illimitable range of objections at command, which -need never stop short at the boundary of knowledge, but can draw -forever on the vasts of ignorance. What the opposition in Middlemarch -said about the New Hospital and its administration had certainly a -great deal of echo in it, for heaven has taken care that everybody -shall not be an originator; but there were differences which -represented every social shade between the polished moderation of Dr. -Minchin and the trenchant assertion of Mrs. Dollop, the landlady of the -Tankard in Slaughter Lane. - -Mrs. Dollop became more and more convinced by her own asseveration, -that Dr. Lydgate meant to let the people die in the Hospital, if not to -poison them, for the sake of cutting them up without saying by your -leave or with your leave; for it was a known fac that he had wanted -to cut up Mrs. Goby, as respectable a woman as any in Parley Street, -who had money in trust before her marriagea poor tale for a doctor, -who if he was good for anything should know what was the matter with -you before you died, and not want to pry into your inside after you -were gone. If that was not reason, Mrs. Dollop wished to know what was; -but there was a prevalent feeling in her audience that her opinion was -a bulwark, and that if it were overthrown there would be no limits to -the cutting-up of bodies, as had been well seen in Burke and Hare with -their pitch-plaisterssuch a hanging business as that was not wanted in -Middlemarch! - -And let it not be supposed that opinion at the Tankard in Slaughter -Lane was unimportant to the medical profession: that old authentic -public-housethe original Tankard, known by the name of Dollopswas -the resort of a great Benefit Club, which had some months before put to -the vote whether its long-standing medical man, Doctor Gambit, should -not be cashiered in favor of this Doctor Lydgate, who was capable of -performing the most astonishing cures, and rescuing people altogether -given up by other practitioners. But the balance had been turned -against Lydgate by two members, who for some private reasons held that -this power of resuscitating persons as good as dead was an equivocal -recommendation, and might interfere with providential favors. In the -course of the year, however, there had been a change in the public -sentiment, of which the unanimity at Dollops was an index. - -A good deal more than a year ago, before anything was known of -Lydgates skill, the judgments on it had naturally been divided, -depending on a sense of likelihood, situated perhaps in the pit of the -stomach or in the pineal gland, and differing in its verdicts, but not -the less valuable as a guide in the total deficit of evidence. Patients -who had chronic diseases or whose lives had long been worn threadbare, -like old Featherstones, had been at once inclined to try him; also, -many who did not like paying their doctors bills, thought agreeably of -opening an account with a new doctor and sending for him without stint -if the childrens temper wanted a dose, occasions when the old -practitioners were often crusty; and all persons thus inclined to -employ Lydgate held it likely that he was clever. Some considered that -he might do more than others where there was liver;at least there -would be no harm in getting a few bottles of stuff from him, since if -these proved useless it would still be possible to return to the -Purifying Pills, which kept you alive if they did not remove the -yellowness. But these were people of minor importance. Good Middlemarch -families were of course not going to change their doctor without reason -shown; and everybody who had employed Mr. Peacock did not feel obliged -to accept a new man merely in the character of his successor, objecting -that he was not likely to be equal to Peacock. - -But Lydgate had not been long in the town before there were particulars -enough reported of him to breed much more specific expectations and to -intensify differences into partisanship; some of the particulars being -of that impressive order of which the significance is entirely hidden, -like a statistical amount without a standard of comparison, but with a -note of exclamation at the end. The cubic feet of oxygen yearly -swallowed by a full-grown manwhat a shudder they might have created in -some Middlemarch circles! Oxygen! nobody knows what that may beis it -any wonder the cholera has got to Dantzic? And yet there are people who -say quarantine is no good! - -One of the facts quickly rumored was that Lydgate did not dispense -drugs. This was offensive both to the physicians whose exclusive -distinction seemed infringed on, and to the surgeon-apothecaries with -whom he ranged himself; and only a little while before, they might have -counted on having the law on their side against a man who without -calling himself a London-made M.D. dared to ask for pay except as a -charge on drugs. But Lydgate had not been experienced enough to foresee -that his new course would be even more offensive to the laity; and to -Mr. Mawmsey, an important grocer in the Top Market, who, though not one -of his patients, questioned him in an affable manner on the subject, he -was injudicious enough to give a hasty popular explanation of his -reasons, pointing out to Mr. Mawmsey that it must lower the character -of practitioners, and be a constant injury to the public, if their only -mode of getting paid for their work was by their making out long bills -for draughts, boluses, and mixtures. - -It is in that way that hard-working medical men may come to be almost -as mischievous as quacks, said Lydgate, rather thoughtlessly. To get -their own bread they must overdose the kings lieges; and thats a bad -sort of treason, Mr. Mawmseyundermines the constitution in a fatal -way. - -Mr. Mawmsey was not only an overseer (it was about a question of -outdoor pay that he was having an interview with Lydgate), he was also -asthmatic and had an increasing family: thus, from a medical point of -view, as well as from his own, he was an important man; indeed, an -exceptional grocer, whose hair was arranged in a flame-like pyramid, -and whose retail deference was of the cordial, encouraging -kindjocosely complimentary, and with a certain considerate abstinence -from letting out the full force of his mind. It was Mr. Mawmseys -friendly jocoseness in questioning him which had set the tone of -Lydgates reply. But let the wise be warned against too great readiness -at explanation: it multiplies the sources of mistake, lengthening the -sum for reckoners sure to go wrong. - -Lydgate smiled as he ended his speech, putting his foot into the -stirrup, and Mr. Mawmsey laughed more than he would have done if he had -known who the kings lieges were, giving his Good morning, sir, -good-morning, sir, with the air of one who saw everything clearly -enough. But in truth his views were perturbed. For years he had been -paying bills with strictly made items, so that for every half-crown and -eighteen-pence he was certain something measurable had been delivered. -He had done this with satisfaction, including it among his -responsibilities as a husband and father, and regarding a longer bill -than usual as a dignity worth mentioning. Moreover, in addition to the -massive benefit of the drugs to self and family, he had enjoyed the -pleasure of forming an acute judgment as to their immediate effects, so -as to give an intelligent statement for the guidance of Mr. Gambita -practitioner just a little lower in status than Wrench or Toller, and -especially esteemed as an accoucheur, of whose ability Mr. Mawmsey had -the poorest opinion on all other points, but in doctoring, he was wont -to say in an undertone, he placed Gambit above any of them. - -Here were deeper reasons than the superficial talk of a new man, which -appeared still flimsier in the drawing-room over the shop, when they -were recited to Mrs. Mawmsey, a woman accustomed to be made much of as -a fertile mother,generally under attendance more or less frequent from -Mr. Gambit, and occasionally having attacks which required Dr. Minchin. - -Does this Mr. Lydgate mean to say there is no use in taking medicine? -said Mrs. Mawmsey, who was slightly given to drawling. I should like -him to tell me how I could bear up at Fair time, if I didnt take -strengthening medicine for a month beforehand. Think of what I have to -provide for calling customers, my dear!here Mrs. Mawmsey turned to an -intimate female friend who sat bya large veal piea stuffed filleta -round of beefham, tongue, et cetera, et cetera! But what keeps me up -best is the pink mixture, not the brown. I wonder, Mr. Mawmsey, with -_your_ experience, you could have patience to listen. I should have -told him at once that I knew a little better than that. - -No, no, no, said Mr. Mawmsey; I was not going to tell him my -opinion. Hear everything and judge for yourself is my motto. But he -didnt know who he was talking to. I was not to be turned on _his_ -finger. People often pretend to tell me things, when they might as well -say, Mawmsey, youre a fool. But I smile at it: I humor everybodys -weak place. If physic had done harm to self and family, I should have -found it out by this time. - -The next day Mr. Gambit was told that Lydgate went about saying physic -was of no use. - -Indeed! said he, lifting his eyebrows with cautious surprise. (He was -a stout husky man with a large ring on his fourth finger.) How will he -cure his patients, then? - -That is what I say, returned Mrs. Mawmsey, who habitually gave weight -to her speech by loading her pronouns. Does _he_ suppose that people -will pay him only to come and sit with them and go away again? - -Mrs. Mawmsey had had a great deal of sitting from Mr. Gambit, including -very full accounts of his own habits of body and other affairs; but of -course he knew there was no innuendo in her remark, since his spare -time and personal narrative had never been charged for. So he replied, -humorously - -Well, Lydgate is a good-looking young fellow, you know. - -Not one that _I_ would employ, said Mrs. Mawmsey. _Others_ may do as -they please. - -Hence Mr. Gambit could go away from the chief grocers without fear of -rivalry, but not without a sense that Lydgate was one of those -hypocrites who try to discredit others by advertising their own -honesty, and that it might be worth some peoples while to show him up. -Mr. Gambit, however, had a satisfactory practice, much pervaded by the -smells of retail trading which suggested the reduction of cash payments -to a balance. And he did not think it worth his while to show Lydgate -up until he knew how. He had not indeed great resources of education, -and had had to work his own way against a good deal of professional -contempt; but he made none the worse accoucheur for calling the -breathing apparatus longs. - -Other medical men felt themselves more capable. Mr. Toller shared the -highest practice in the town and belonged to an old Middlemarch family: -there were Tollers in the law and everything else above the line of -retail trade. Unlike our irascible friend Wrench, he had the easiest -way in the world of taking things which might be supposed to annoy him, -being a well-bred, quietly facetious man, who kept a good house, was -very fond of a little sporting when he could get it, very friendly with -Mr. Hawley, and hostile to Mr. Bulstrode. It may seem odd that with -such pleasant habits he should have been given to the heroic treatment, -bleeding and blistering and starving his patients, with a dispassionate -disregard to his personal example; but the incongruity favored the -opinion of his ability among his patients, who commonly observed that -Mr. Toller had lazy manners, but his treatment was as active as you -could desire: no man, said they, carried more seriousness into his -profession: he was a little slow in coming, but when he came, he _did_ -something. He was a great favorite in his own circle, and whatever he -implied to any ones disadvantage told doubly from his careless -ironical tone. - -He naturally got tired of smiling and saying, Ah! when he was told -that Mr. Peacocks successor did not mean to dispense medicines; and -Mr. Hackbutt one day mentioning it over the wine at a dinner-party, Mr. -Toller said, laughingly, Dibbitts will get rid of his stale drugs, -then. Im fond of little DibbittsIm glad hes in luck. - -I see your meaning, Toller, said Mr. Hackbutt, and I am entirely of -your opinion. I shall take an opportunity of expressing myself to that -effect. A medical man should be responsible for the quality of the -drugs consumed by his patients. That is the rationale of the system of -charging which has hitherto obtained; and nothing is more offensive -than this ostentation of reform, where there is no real amelioration. - -Ostentation, Hackbutt? said Mr. Toller, ironically. I dont see -that. A man cant very well be ostentatious of what nobody believes in. -Theres no reform in the matter: the question is, whether the profit on -the drugs is paid to the medical man by the druggist or by the patient, -and whether there shall be extra pay under the name of attendance. - -Ah, to be sure; one of your damned new versions of old humbug, said -Mr. Hawley, passing the decanter to Mr. Wrench. - -Mr. Wrench, generally abstemious, often drank wine rather freely at a -party, getting the more irritable in consequence. - -As to humbug, Hawley, he said, thats a word easy to fling about. -But what I contend against is the way medical men are fouling their own -nest, and setting up a cry about the country as if a general -practitioner who dispenses drugs couldnt be a gentleman. I throw back -the imputation with scorn. I say, the most ungentlemanly trick a man -can be guilty of is to come among the members of his profession with -innovations which are a libel on their time-honored procedure. That is -my opinion, and I am ready to maintain it against any one who -contradicts me. Mr. Wrenchs voice had become exceedingly sharp. - -I cant oblige you there, Wrench, said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his -hands into his trouser-pockets. - -My dear fellow, said Mr. Toller, striking in pacifically, and looking -at Mr. Wrench, the physicians have their toes trodden on more than we -have. If you come to dignity it is a question for Minchin and Sprague. - -Does medical jurisprudence provide nothing against these -infringements? said Mr. Hackbutt, with a disinterested desire to offer -his lights. How does the law stand, eh, Hawley? - -Nothing to be done there, said Mr. Hawley. I looked into it for -Sprague. Youd only break your nose against a damned judges decision. - -Pooh! no need of law, said Mr. Toller. So far as practice is -concerned the attempt is an absurdity. No patient will like -itcertainly not Peacocks, who have been used to depletion. Pass the -wine. - -Mr. Tollers prediction was partly verified. If Mr. and Mrs. Mawmsey, -who had no idea of employing Lydgate, were made uneasy by his supposed -declaration against drugs, it was inevitable that those who called him -in should watch a little anxiously to see whether he did use all the -means he might use in the case. Even good Mr. Powderell, who in his -constant charity of interpretation was inclined to esteem Lydgate the -more for what seemed a conscientious pursuit of a better plan, had his -mind disturbed with doubts during his wifes attack of erysipelas, and -could not abstain from mentioning to Lydgate that Mr. Peacock on a -similar occasion had administered a series of boluses which were not -otherwise definable than by their remarkable effect in bringing Mrs. -Powderell round before Michaelmas from an illness which had begun in a -remarkably hot August. At last, indeed, in the conflict between his -desire not to hurt Lydgate and his anxiety that no means should be -lacking, he induced his wife privately to take Widgeons Purifying -Pills, an esteemed Middlemarch medicine, which arrested every disease -at the fountain by setting to work at once upon the blood. This -co-operative measure was not to be mentioned to Lydgate, and Mr. -Powderell himself had no certain reliance on it, only hoping that it -might be attended with a blessing. - -But in this doubtful stage of Lydgates introduction he was helped by -what we mortals rashly call good fortune. I suppose no doctor ever came -newly to a place without making cures that surprised somebodycures -which may be called fortunes testimonials, and deserve as much credit -as the written or printed kind. Various patients got well while Lydgate -was attending them, some even of dangerous illnesses; and it was -remarked that the new doctor with his new ways had at least the merit -of bringing people back from the brink of death. The trash talked on -such occasions was the more vexatious to Lydgate, because it gave -precisely the sort of prestige which an incompetent and unscrupulous -man would desire, and was sure to be imputed to him by the simmering -dislike of the other medical men as an encouragement on his own part of -ignorant puffing. But even his proud outspokenness was checked by the -discernment that it was as useless to fight against the interpretations -of ignorance as to whip the fog; and good fortune insisted on using -those interpretations. - -Mrs. Larcher having just become charitably concerned about alarming -symptoms in her charwoman, when Dr. Minchin called, asked him to see -her then and there, and to give her a certificate for the Infirmary; -whereupon after examination he wrote a statement of the case as one of -tumor, and recommended the bearer Nancy Nash as an out-patient. Nancy, -calling at home on her way to the Infirmary, allowed the stay maker and -his wife, in whose attic she lodged, to read Dr. Minchins paper, and -by this means became a subject of compassionate conversation in the -neighboring shops of Churchyard Lane as being afflicted with a tumor at -first declared to be as large and hard as a ducks egg, but later in -the day to be about the size of your fist. Most hearers agreed that -it would have to be cut out, but one had known of oil and another of -squitchineal as adequate to soften and reduce any lump in the body -when taken enough of into the insidethe oil by gradually soopling, -the squitchineal by eating away. - -Meanwhile when Nancy presented herself at the Infirmary, it happened to -be one of Lydgates days there. After questioning and examining her, -Lydgate said to the house-surgeon in an undertone, Its not tumor: -its cramp. He ordered her a blister and some steel mixture, and told -her to go home and rest, giving her at the same time a note to Mrs. -Larcher, who, she said, was her best employer, to testify that she was -in need of good food. - -But by-and-by Nancy, in her attic, became portentously worse, the -supposed tumor having indeed given way to the blister, but only -wandered to another region with angrier pain. The staymakers wife went -to fetch Lydgate, and he continued for a fortnight to attend Nancy in -her own home, until under his treatment she got quite well and went to -work again. But the case continued to be described as one of tumor in -Churchyard Lane and other streetsnay, by Mrs. Larcher also; for when -Lydgates remarkable cure was mentioned to Dr. Minchin, he naturally -did not like to say, The case was not one of tumor, and I was mistaken -in describing it as such, but answered, Indeed! ah! I saw it was a -surgical case, not of a fatal kind. He had been inwardly annoyed, -however, when he had asked at the Infirmary about the woman he had -recommended two days before, to hear from the house-surgeon, a -youngster who was not sorry to vex Minchin with impunity, exactly what -had occurred: he privately pronounced that it was indecent in a general -practitioner to contradict a physicians diagnosis in that open manner, -and afterwards agreed with Wrench that Lydgate was disagreeably -inattentive to etiquette. Lydgate did not make the affair a ground for -valuing himself or (very particularly) despising Minchin, such -rectification of misjudgments often happening among men of equal -qualifications. But report took up this amazing case of tumor, not -clearly distinguished from cancer, and considered the more awful for -being of the wandering sort; till much prejudice against Lydgates -method as to drugs was overcome by the proof of his marvellous skill in -the speedy restoration of Nancy Nash after she had been rolling and -rolling in agonies from the presence of a tumor both hard and -obstinate, but nevertheless compelled to yield. - -How could Lydgate help himself? It is offensive to tell a lady when she -is expressing her amazement at your skill, that she is altogether -mistaken and rather foolish in her amazement. And to have entered into -the nature of diseases would only have added to his breaches of medical -propriety. Thus he had to wince under a promise of success given by -that ignorant praise which misses every valid quality. - -In the case of a more conspicuous patient, Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, -Lydgate was conscious of having shown himself something better than an -every-day doctor, though here too it was an equivocal advantage that he -won. The eloquent auctioneer was seized with pneumonia, and having been -a patient of Mr. Peacocks, sent for Lydgate, whom he had expressed his -intention to patronize. Mr Trumbull was a robust man, a good subject -for trying the expectant theory uponwatching the course of an -interesting disease when left as much as possible to itself, so that -the stages might be noted for future guidance; and from the air with -which he described his sensations Lydgate surmised that he would like -to be taken into his medical mans confidence, and be represented as a -partner in his own cure. The auctioneer heard, without much surprise, -that his was a constitution which (always with due watching) might be -left to itself, so as to offer a beautiful example of a disease with -all its phases seen in clear delineation, and that he probably had the -rare strength of mind voluntarily to become the test of a rational -procedure, and thus make the disorder of his pulmonary functions a -general benefit to society. - -Mr. Trumbull acquiesced at once, and entered strongly into the view -that an illness of his was no ordinary occasion for medical science. - -Never fear, sir; you are not speaking to one who is altogether -ignorant of the _vis medicatrix_, said he, with his usual superiority -of expression, made rather pathetic by difficulty of breathing. And he -went without shrinking through his abstinence from drugs, much -sustained by application of the thermometer which implied the -importance of his temperature, by the sense that he furnished objects -for the microscope, and by learning many new words which seemed suited -to the dignity of his secretions. For Lydgate was acute enough to -indulge him with a little technical talk. - -It may be imagined that Mr. Trumbull rose from his couch with a -disposition to speak of an illness in which he had manifested the -strength of his mind as well as constitution; and he was not backward -in awarding credit to the medical man who had discerned the quality of -patient he had to deal with. The auctioneer was not an ungenerous man, -and liked to give others their due, feeling that he could afford it. He -had caught the words expectant method, and rang chimes on this and -other learned phrases to accompany the assurance that Lydgate knew a -thing or two more than the rest of the doctorswas far better versed in -the secrets of his profession than the majority of his compeers. - -This had happened before the affair of Fred Vincys illness had given -to Mr. Wrenchs enmity towards Lydgate more definite personal ground. -The new-comer already threatened to be a nuisance in the shape of -rivalry, and was certainly a nuisance in the shape of practical -criticism or reflections on his hard-driven elders, who had had -something else to do than to busy themselves with untried notions. His -practice had spread in one or two quarters, and from the first the -report of his high family had led to his being pretty generally -invited, so that the other medical men had to meet him at dinner in the -best houses; and having to meet a man whom you dislike is not observed -always to end in a mutual attachment. There was hardly ever so much -unanimity among them as in the opinion that Lydgate was an arrogant -young fellow, and yet ready for the sake of ultimately predominating to -show a crawling subservience to Bulstrode. That Mr. Farebrother, whose -name was a chief flag of the anti-Bulstrode party, always defended -Lydgate and made a friend of him, was referred to Farebrothers -unaccountable way of fighting on both sides. - -Here was plenty of preparation for the outburst of professional disgust -at the announcement of the laws Mr. Bulstrode was laying down for the -direction of the New Hospital, which were the more exasperating because -there was no present possibility of interfering with his will and -pleasure, everybody except Lord Medlicote having refused help towards -the building, on the ground that they preferred giving to the Old -Infirmary. Mr. Bulstrode met all the expenses, and had ceased to be -sorry that he was purchasing the right to carry out his notions of -improvement without hindrance from prejudiced coadjutors; but he had -had to spend large sums, and the building had lingered. Caleb Garth had -undertaken it, had failed during its progress, and before the interior -fittings were begun had retired from the management of the business; -and when referring to the Hospital he often said that however Bulstrode -might ring if you tried him, he liked good solid carpentry and masonry, -and had a notion both of drains and chimneys. In fact, the Hospital had -become an object of intense interest to Bulstrode, and he would -willingly have continued to spare a large yearly sum that he might rule -it dictatorially without any Board; but he had another favorite object -which also required money for its accomplishment: he wished to buy some -land in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, and therefore he wished to get -considerable contributions towards maintaining the Hospital. Meanwhile -he framed his plan of management. The Hospital was to be reserved for -fever in all its forms; Lydgate was to be chief medical superintendent, -that he might have free authority to pursue all comparative -investigations which his studies, particularly in Paris, had shown him -the importance of, the other medical visitors having a consultative -influence, but no power to contravene Lydgates ultimate decisions; and -the general management was to be lodged exclusively in the hands of -five directors associated with Mr. Bulstrode, who were to have votes in -the ratio of their contributions, the Board itself filling up any -vacancy in its numbers, and no mob of small contributors being admitted -to a share of government. - -There was an immediate refusal on the part of every medical man in the -town to become a visitor at the Fever Hospital. - -Very well, said Lydgate to Mr. Bulstrode, we have a capital -house-surgeon and dispenser, a clear-headed, neat-handed fellow; well -get Webbe from Crabsley, as good a country practitioner as any of them, -to come over twice a-week, and in case of any exceptional operation, -Protheroe will come from Brassing. I must work the harder, thats all, -and I have given up my post at the Infirmary. The plan will flourish in -spite of them, and then theyll be glad to come in. Things cant last -as they are: there must be all sorts of reform soon, and then young -fellows may be glad to come and study here. Lydgate was in high -spirits. - -I shall not flinch, you may depend upon it, Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. -Bulstrode. While I see you carrying out high intentions with vigor, -you shall have my unfailing support. And I have humble confidence that -the blessing which has hitherto attended my efforts against the spirit -of evil in this town will not be withdrawn. Suitable directors to -assist me I have no doubt of securing. Mr. Brooke of Tipton has already -given me his concurrence, and a pledge to contribute yearly: he has not -specified the sumprobably not a great one. But he will be a useful -member of the board. - -A useful member was perhaps to be defined as one who would originate -nothing, and always vote with Mr. Bulstrode. - -The medical aversion to Lydgate was hardly disguised now. Neither Dr. -Sprague nor Dr. Minchin said that he disliked Lydgates knowledge, or -his disposition to improve treatment: what they disliked was his -arrogance, which nobody felt to be altogether deniable. They implied -that he was insolent, pretentious, and given to that reckless -innovation for the sake of noise and show which was the essence of the -charlatan. - -The word charlatan once thrown on the air could not be let drop. In -those days the world was agitated about the wondrous doings of Mr. St. -John Long, noblemen and gentlemen attesting his extraction of a fluid -like mercury from the temples of a patient. - -Mr. Toller remarked one day, smilingly, to Mrs. Taft, that Bulstrode -had found a man to suit him in Lydgate; a charlatan in religion is sure -to like other sorts of charlatans. - -Yes, indeed, I can imagine, said Mrs. Taft, keeping the number of -thirty stitches carefully in her mind all the while; there are so many -of that sort. I remember Mr. Cheshire, with his irons, trying to make -people straight when the Almighty had made them crooked. - -No, no, said Mr. Toller, Cheshire was all rightall fair and above -board. But theres St. John Longthats the kind of fellow we call a -charlatan, advertising cures in ways nobody knows anything about: a -fellow who wants to make a noise by pretending to go deeper than other -people. The other day he was pretending to tap a mans brain and get -quicksilver out of it. - -Good gracious! what dreadful trifling with peoples constitutions! -said Mrs. Taft. - -After this, it came to be held in various quarters that Lydgate played -even with respectable constitutions for his own purposes, and how much -more likely that in his flighty experimenting he should make sixes and -sevens of hospital patients. Especially it was to be expected, as the -landlady of the Tankard had said, that he would recklessly cut up their -dead bodies. For Lydgate having attended Mrs. Goby, who died apparently -of a heart-disease not very clearly expressed in the symptoms, too -daringly asked leave of her relatives to open the body, and thus gave -an offence quickly spreading beyond Parley Street, where that lady had -long resided on an income such as made this association of her body -with the victims of Burke and Hare a flagrant insult to her memory. - -Affairs were in this stage when Lydgate opened the subject of the -Hospital to Dorothea. We see that he was bearing enmity and silly -misconception with much spirit, aware that they were partly created by -his good share of success. - -They will not drive me away, he said, talking confidentially in Mr. -Farebrothers study. I have got a good opportunity here, for the ends -I care most about; and I am pretty sure to get income enough for our -wants. By-and-by I shall go on as quietly as possible: I have no -seductions now away from home and work. And I am more and more -convinced that it will be possible to demonstrate the homogeneous -origin of all the tissues. Raspail and others are on the same track, -and I have been losing time. - -I have no power of prophecy there, said Mr. Farebrother, who had been -puffing at his pipe thoughtfully while Lydgate talked; but as to the -hostility in the town, youll weather it if you are prudent. - -How am I to be prudent? said Lydgate, I just do what comes before me -to do. I cant help peoples ignorance and spite, any more than -Vesalius could. It isnt possible to square ones conduct to silly -conclusions which nobody can foresee. - -Quite true; I didnt mean that. I meant only two things. One is, keep -yourself as separable from Bulstrode as you can: of course, you can go -on doing good work of your own by his help; but dont get tied. Perhaps -it seems like personal feeling in me to say soand theres a good deal -of that, I ownbut personal feeling is not always in the wrong if you -boil it down to the impressions which make it simply an opinion. - -Bulstrode is nothing to me, said Lydgate, carelessly, except on -public grounds. As to getting very closely united to him, I am not fond -enough of him for that. But what was the other thing you meant? said -Lydgate, who was nursing his leg as comfortably as possible, and -feeling in no great need of advice. - -Why, this. Take care_experto crede_take care not to get hampered -about money matters. I know, by a word you let fall one day, that you -dont like my playing at cards so much for money. You are right enough -there. But try and keep clear of wanting small sums that you havent -got. I am perhaps talking rather superfluously; but a man likes to -assume superiority over himself, by holding up his bad example and -sermonizing on it. - -Lydgate took Mr. Farebrothers hints very cordially, though he would -hardly have borne them from another man. He could not help remembering -that he had lately made some debts, but these had seemed inevitable, -and he had no intention now to do more than keep house in a simple way. -The furniture for which he owed would not want renewing; nor even the -stock of wine for a long while. - -Many thoughts cheered him at that timeand justly. A man conscious of -enthusiasm for worthy aims is sustained under petty hostilities by the -memory of great workers who had to fight their way not without wounds, -and who hover in his mind as patron saints, invisibly helping. At home, -that same evening when he had been chatting with Mr. Farebrother, he -had his long legs stretched on the sofa, his head thrown back, and his -hands clasped behind it according to his favorite ruminating attitude, -while Rosamond sat at the piano, and played one tune after another, of -which her husband only knew (like the emotional elephant he was!) that -they fell in with his mood as if they had been melodious sea-breezes. - -There was something very fine in Lydgates look just then, and any one -might have been encouraged to bet on his achievement. In his dark eyes -and on his mouth and brow there was that placidity which comes from the -fulness of contemplative thoughtthe mind not searching, but beholding, -and the glance seeming to be filled with what is behind it. - -Presently Rosamond left the piano and seated herself on a chair close -to the sofa and opposite her husbands face. - -Is that enough music for you, my lord? she said, folding her hands -before her and putting on a little air of meekness. - -Yes, dear, if you are tired, said Lydgate, gently, turning his eyes -and resting them on her, but not otherwise moving. Rosamonds presence -at that moment was perhaps no more than a spoonful brought to the lake, -and her womans instinct in this matter was not dull. - -What is absorbing you? she said, leaning forward and bringing her -face nearer to his. - -He moved his hands and placed them gently behind her shoulders. - -I am thinking of a great fellow, who was about as old as I am three -hundred years ago, and had already begun a new era in anatomy. - -I cant guess, said Rosamond, shaking her head. We used to play at -guessing historical characters at Mrs. Lemons, but not anatomists. - -Ill tell you. His name was Vesalius. And the only way he could get to -know anatomy as he did, was by going to snatch bodies at night, from -graveyards and places of execution. - -Oh! said Rosamond, with a look of disgust on her pretty face, I am -very glad you are not Vesalius. I should have thought he might find -some less horrible way than that. - -No, he couldnt, said Lydgate, going on too earnestly to take much -notice of her answer. He could only get a complete skeleton by -snatching the whitened bones of a criminal from the gallows, and -burying them, and fetching them away by bits secretly, in the dead of -night. - -I hope he is not one of your great heroes, said Rosamond, half -playfully, half anxiously, else I shall have you getting up in the -night to go to St. Peters churchyard. You know how angry you told me -the people were about Mrs. Goby. You have enemies enough already. - -So had Vesalius, Rosy. No wonder the medical fogies in Middlemarch are -jealous, when some of the greatest doctors living were fierce upon -Vesalius because they had believed in Galen, and he showed that Galen -was wrong. They called him a liar and a poisonous monster. But the -facts of the human frame were on his side; and so he got the better of -them. - -And what happened to him afterwards? said Rosamond, with some -interest. - -Oh, he had a good deal of fighting to the last. And they did -exasperate him enough at one time to make him burn a good deal of his -work. Then he got shipwrecked just as he was coming from Jerusalem to -take a great chair at Padua. He died rather miserably. - -There was a moments pause before Rosamond said, Do you know, Tertius, -I often wish you had not been a medical man. - -Nay, Rosy, dont say that, said Lydgate, drawing her closer to him. -That is like saying you wish you had married another man. - -Not at all; you are clever enough for anything: you might easily have -been something else. And your cousins at Quallingham all think that you -have sunk below them in your choice of a profession. - -The cousins at Quallingham may go to the devil! said Lydgate, with -scorn. It was like their impudence if they said anything of the sort -to you. - -Still, said Rosamond, I do _not_ think it is a nice profession, -dear. We know that she had much quiet perseverance in her opinion. - -It is the grandest profession in the world, Rosamond, said Lydgate, -gravely. And to say that you love me without loving the medical man in -me, is the same sort of thing as to say that you like eating a peach -but dont like its flavor. Dont say that again, dear, it pains me. - -Very well, Doctor Grave-face, said Rosy, dimpling, I will declare in -future that I dote on skeletons, and body-snatchers, and bits of things -in phials, and quarrels with everybody, that end in your dying -miserably. - -No, no, not so bad as that, said Lydgate, giving up remonstrance and -petting her resignedly. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - -Pues no podemos haber aquello que queremos, queramos aquello que -podremos. - -Since we cannot get what we like, let us like what we can get._Spanish -Proverb_. - - -While Lydgate, safely married and with the Hospital under his command, -felt himself struggling for Medical Reform against Middlemarch, -Middlemarch was becoming more and more conscious of the national -struggle for another kind of Reform. - -By the time that Lord John Russells measure was being debated in the -House of Commons, there was a new political animation in Middlemarch, -and a new definition of parties which might show a decided change of -balance if a new election came. And there were some who already -predicted this event, declaring that a Reform Bill would never be -carried by the actual Parliament. This was what Will Ladislaw dwelt on -to Mr. Brooke as a reason for congratulation that he had not yet tried -his strength at the hustings. - -Things will grow and ripen as if it were a comet year, said Will. -The public temper will soon get to a cometary heat, now the question -of Reform has set in. There is likely to be another election before -long, and by that time Middlemarch will have got more ideas into its -head. What we have to work at now is the Pioneer and political -meetings. - -Quite right, Ladislaw; we shall make a new thing of opinion here, -said Mr. Brooke. Only I want to keep myself independent about Reform, -you know; I dont want to go too far. I want to take up Wilberforces -and Romillys line, you know, and work at Negro Emancipation, Criminal -Lawthat kind of thing. But of course I should support Grey. - -If you go in for the principle of Reform, you must be prepared to take -what the situation offers, said Will. If everybody pulled for his own -bit against everybody else, the whole question would go to tatters. - -Yes, yes, I agree with youI quite take that point of view. I should -put it in that light. I should support Grey, you know. But I dont want -to change the balance of the constitution, and I dont think Grey -would. - -But that is what the country wants, said Will. Else there would be -no meaning in political unions or any other movement that knows what -its about. It wants to have a House of Commons which is not weighted -with nominees of the landed class, but with representatives of the -other interests. And as to contending for a reform short of that, it is -like asking for a bit of an avalanche which has already begun to -thunder. - -That is fine, Ladislaw: that is the way to put it. Write that down, -now. We must begin to get documents about the feeling of the country, -as well as the machine-breaking and general distress. - -As to documents, said Will, a two-inch card will hold plenty. A few -rows of figures are enough to deduce misery from, and a few more will -show the rate at which the political determination of the people is -growing. - -Good: draw that out a little more at length, Ladislaw. That is an -idea, now: write it out in the Pioneer. Put the figures and deduce -the misery, you know; and put the other figures and deduceand so on. -You have a way of putting things. Burke, now:when I think of Burke, I -cant help wishing somebody had a pocket-borough to give you, Ladislaw. -Youd never get elected, you know. And we shall always want talent in -the House: reform as we will, we shall always want talent. That -avalanche and the thunder, now, was really a little like Burke. I want -that sort of thingnot ideas, you know, but a way of putting them. - -Pocket-boroughs would be a fine thing, said Ladislaw, if they were -always in the right pocket, and there were always a Burke at hand. - -Will was not displeased with that complimentary comparison, even from -Mr. Brooke; for it is a little too trying to human flesh to be -conscious of expressing ones self better than others and never to have -it noticed, and in the general dearth of admiration for the right -thing, even a chance bray of applause falling exactly in time is rather -fortifying. Will felt that his literary refinements were usually beyond -the limits of Middlemarch perception; nevertheless, he was beginning -thoroughly to like the work of which when he began he had said to -himself rather languidly, Why not?and he studied the political -situation with as ardent an interest as he had ever given to poetic -metres or mediaevalism. It is undeniable that but for the desire to be -where Dorothea was, and perhaps the want of knowing what else to do, -Will would not at this time have been meditating on the needs of the -English people or criticising English statesmanship: he would probably -have been rambling in Italy sketching plans for several dramas, trying -prose and finding it too jejune, trying verse and finding it too -artificial, beginning to copy bits from old pictures, leaving off -because they were no good, and observing that, after all, -self-culture was the principal point; while in politics he would have -been sympathizing warmly with liberty and progress in general. Our -sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place -of dilettanteism and make us feel that the quality of our action is not -a matter of indifference. - -Ladislaw had now accepted his bit of work, though it was not that -indeterminate loftiest thing which he had once dreamed of as alone -worthy of continuous effort. His nature warmed easily in the presence -of subjects which were visibly mixed with life and action, and the -easily stirred rebellion in him helped the glow of public spirit. In -spite of Mr. Casaubon and the banishment from Lowick, he was rather -happy; getting a great deal of fresh knowledge in a vivid way and for -practical purposes, and making the Pioneer celebrated as far as -Brassing (never mind the smallness of the area; the writing was not -worse than much that reaches the four corners of the earth). - -Mr. Brooke was occasionally irritating; but Wills impatience was -relieved by the division of his time between visits to the Grange and -retreats to his Middlemarch lodgings, which gave variety to his life. - -Shift the pegs a little, he said to himself, and Mr. Brooke might be -in the Cabinet, while I was Under-Secretary. That is the common order -of things: the little waves make the large ones and are of the same -pattern. I am better here than in the sort of life Mr. Casaubon would -have trained me for, where the doing would be all laid down by a -precedent too rigid for me to react upon. I dont care for prestige or -high pay. - -As Lydgate had said of him, he was a sort of gypsy, rather enjoying the -sense of belonging to no class; he had a feeling of romance in his -position, and a pleasant consciousness of creating a little surprise -wherever he went. That sort of enjoyment had been disturbed when he had -felt some new distance between himself and Dorothea in their accidental -meeting at Lydgates, and his irritation had gone out towards Mr. -Casaubon, who had declared beforehand that Will would lose caste. I -never had any caste, he would have said, if that prophecy had been -uttered to him, and the quick blood would have come and gone like -breath in his transparent skin. But it is one thing to like defiance, -and another thing to like its consequences. - -Meanwhile, the town opinion about the new editor of the Pioneer was -tending to confirm Mr. Casaubons view. Wills relationship in that -distinguished quarter did not, like Lydgates high connections, serve -as an advantageous introduction: if it was rumored that young Ladislaw -was Mr. Casaubons nephew or cousin, it was also rumored that Mr. -Casaubon would have nothing to do with him. - -Brooke has taken him up, said Mr. Hawley, because that is what no -man in his senses could have expected. Casaubon has devilish good -reasons, you may be sure, for turning the cold shoulder on a young -fellow whose bringing-up he paid for. Just like Brookeone of those -fellows who would praise a cat to sell a horse. - -And some oddities of Wills, more or less poetical, appeared to support -Mr. Keck, the editor of the Trumpet, in asserting that Ladislaw, if -the truth were known, was not only a Polish emissary but crack-brained, -which accounted for the preternatural quickness and glibness of his -speech when he got on to a platformas he did whenever he had an -opportunity, speaking with a facility which cast reflections on solid -Englishmen generally. It was disgusting to Keck to see a strip of a -fellow, with light curls round his head, get up and speechify by the -hour against institutions which had existed when he was in his -cradle. And in a leading article of the Trumpet, Keck characterized -Ladislaws speech at a Reform meeting as the violence of an -energumena miserable effort to shroud in the brilliancy of fireworks -the daring of irresponsible statements and the poverty of a knowledge -which was of the cheapest and most recent description. - -That was a rattling article yesterday, Keck, said Dr. Sprague, with -sarcastic intentions. But what is an energumen? - -Oh, a term that came up in the French Revolution, said Keck. - -This dangerous aspect of Ladislaw was strangely contrasted with other -habits which became matter of remark. He had a fondness, half artistic, -half affectionate, for little childrenthe smaller they were on -tolerably active legs, and the funnier their clothing, the better Will -liked to surprise and please them. We know that in Rome he was given to -ramble about among the poor people, and the taste did not quit him in -Middlemarch. - -He had somehow picked up a troop of droll children, little hatless boys -with their galligaskins much worn and scant shirting to hang out, -little girls who tossed their hair out of their eyes to look at him, -and guardian brothers at the mature age of seven. This troop he had led -out on gypsy excursions to Halsell Wood at nutting-time, and since the -cold weather had set in he had taken them on a clear day to gather -sticks for a bonfire in the hollow of a hillside, where he drew out a -small feast of gingerbread for them, and improvised a Punch-and-Judy -drama with some private home-made puppets. Here was one oddity. Another -was, that in houses where he got friendly, he was given to stretch -himself at full length on the rug while he talked, and was apt to be -discovered in this attitude by occasional callers for whom such an -irregularity was likely to confirm the notions of his dangerously mixed -blood and general laxity. - -But Wills articles and speeches naturally recommended him in families -which the new strictness of party division had marked off on the side -of Reform. He was invited to Mr. Bulstrodes; but here he could not lie -down on the rug, and Mrs. Bulstrode felt that his mode of talking about -Catholic countries, as if there were any truce with Antichrist, -illustrated the usual tendency to unsoundness in intellectual men. - -At Mr. Farebrothers, however, whom the irony of events had brought on -the same side with Bulstrode in the national movement, Will became a -favorite with the ladies; especially with little Miss Noble, whom it -was one of his oddities to escort when he met her in the street with -her little basket, giving her his arm in the eyes of the town, and -insisting on going with her to pay some call where she distributed her -small filchings from her own share of sweet things. - -But the house where he visited oftenest and lay most on the rug was -Lydgates. The two men were not at all alike, but they agreed none the -worse. Lydgate was abrupt but not irritable, taking little notice of -megrims in healthy people; and Ladislaw did not usually throw away his -susceptibilities on those who took no notice of them. With Rosamond, on -the other hand, he pouted and was waywardnay, often uncomplimentary, -much to her inward surprise; nevertheless he was gradually becoming -necessary to her entertainment by his companionship in her music, his -varied talk, and his freedom from the grave preoccupation which, with -all her husbands tenderness and indulgence, often made his manners -unsatisfactory to her, and confirmed her dislike of the medical -profession. - -Lydgate, inclined to be sarcastic on the superstitious faith of the -people in the efficacy of the bill, while nobody cared about the low -state of pathology, sometimes assailed Will with troublesome questions. -One evening in March, Rosamond in her cherry-colored dress with -swansdown trimming about the throat sat at the tea-table; Lydgate, -lately come in tired from his outdoor work, was seated sideways on an -easy-chair by the fire with one leg over the elbow, his brow looking a -little troubled as his eyes rambled over the columns of the Pioneer, -while Rosamond, having noticed that he was perturbed, avoided looking -at him, and inwardly thanked heaven that she herself had not a moody -disposition. Will Ladislaw was stretched on the rug contemplating the -curtain-pole abstractedly, and humming very low the notes of When -first I saw thy face; while the house spaniel, also stretched out with -small choice of room, looked from between his paws at the usurper of -the rug with silent but strong objection. - -Rosamond bringing Lydgate his cup of tea, he threw down the paper, and -said to Will, who had started up and gone to the table - -Its no use your puffing Brooke as a reforming landlord, Ladislaw: -they only pick the more holes in his coat in the Trumpet. - -No matter; those who read the Pioneer dont read the Trumpet, -said Will, swallowing his tea and walking about. Do you suppose the -public reads with a view to its own conversion? We should have a -witches brewing with a vengeance thenMingle, mingle, mingle, mingle, -You that mingle mayand nobody would know which side he was going to -take. - -Farebrother says, he doesnt believe Brooke would get elected if the -opportunity came: the very men who profess to be for him would bring -another member out of the bag at the right moment. - -Theres no harm in trying. Its good to have resident members. - -Why? said Lydgate, who was much given to use that inconvenient word -in a curt tone. - -They represent the local stupidity better, said Will, laughing, and -shaking his curls; and they are kept on their best behavior in the -neighborhood. Brooke is not a bad fellow, but he has done some good -things on his estate that he never would have done but for this -Parliamentary bite. - -Hes not fitted to be a public man, said Lydgate, with contemptuous -decision. He would disappoint everybody who counted on him: I can see -that at the Hospital. Only, there Bulstrode holds the reins and drives -him. - -That depends on how you fix your standard of public men, said Will. -Hes good enough for the occasion: when the people have made up their -mind as they are making it up now, they dont want a manthey only want -a vote. - -That is the way with you political writers, Ladislawcrying up a -measure as if it were a universal cure, and crying up men who are a -part of the very disease that wants curing. - -Why not? Men may help to cure themselves off the face of the land -without knowing it, said Will, who could find reasons impromptu, when -he had not thought of a question beforehand. - -That is no excuse for encouraging the superstitious exaggeration of -hopes about this particular measure, helping the cry to swallow it -whole and to send up voting popinjays who are good for nothing but to -carry it. You go against rottenness, and there is nothing more -thoroughly rotten than making people believe that society can be cured -by a political hocus-pocus. - -Thats very fine, my dear fellow. But your cure must begin somewhere, -and put it that a thousand things which debase a population can never -be reformed without this particular reform to begin with. Look what -Stanley said the other daythat the House had been tinkering long -enough at small questions of bribery, inquiring whether this or that -voter has had a guinea when everybody knows that the seats have been -sold wholesale. Wait for wisdom and conscience in public -agentsfiddlestick! The only conscience we can trust to is the massive -sense of wrong in a class, and the best wisdom that will work is the -wisdom of balancing claims. Thats my textwhich side is injured? I -support the man who supports their claims; not the virtuous upholder of -the wrong. - -That general talk about a particular case is mere question begging, -Ladislaw. When I say, I go in for the dose that cures, it doesnt -follow that I go in for opium in a given case of gout. - -I am not begging the question we are uponwhether we are to try for -nothing till we find immaculate men to work with. Should you go on that -plan? If there were one man who would carry you a medical reform and -another who would oppose it, should you inquire which had the better -motives or even the better brains? - -Oh, of course, said Lydgate, seeing himself checkmated by a move -which he had often used himself, if one did not work with such men as -are at hand, things must come to a dead-lock. Suppose the worst opinion -in the town about Bulstrode were a true one, that would not make it -less true that he has the sense and the resolution to do what I think -ought to be done in the matters I know and care most about; but that is -the only ground on which I go with him, Lydgate added rather proudly, -bearing in mind Mr. Farebrothers remarks. He is nothing to me -otherwise; I would not cry him up on any personal groundI would keep -clear of that. - -Do you mean that I cry up Brooke on any personal ground? said Will -Ladislaw, nettled, and turning sharp round. For the first time he felt -offended with Lydgate; not the less so, perhaps, because he would have -declined any close inquiry into the growth of his relation to Mr. -Brooke. - -Not at all, said Lydgate, I was simply explaining my own action. I -meant that a man may work for a special end with others whose motives -and general course are equivocal, if he is quite sure of his personal -independence, and that he is not working for his private -interesteither place or money. - -Then, why dont you extend your liberality to others? said Will, -still nettled. My personal independence is as important to me as yours -is to you. You have no more reason to imagine that I have personal -expectations from Brooke, than I have to imagine that you have personal -expectations from Bulstrode. Motives are points of honor, I -supposenobody can prove them. But as to money and place in the world, -Will ended, tossing back his head, I think it is pretty clear that I -am not determined by considerations of that sort. - -You quite mistake me, Ladislaw, said Lydgate, surprised. He had been -preoccupied with his own vindication, and had been blind to what -Ladislaw might infer on his own account. I beg your pardon for -unintentionally annoying you. In fact, I should rather attribute to you -a romantic disregard of your own worldly interests. On the political -question, I referred simply to intellectual bias. - -How very unpleasant you both are this evening! said Rosamond. I -cannot conceive why money should have been referred to. Politics and -Medicine are sufficiently disagreeable to quarrel upon. You can both of -you go on quarrelling with all the world and with each other on those -two topics. - -Rosamond looked mildly neutral as she said this, rising to ring the -bell, and then crossing to her work-table. - -Poor Rosy! said Lydgate, putting out his hand to her as she was -passing him. Disputation is not amusing to cherubs. Have some music. -Ask Ladislaw to sing with you. - -When Will was gone Rosamond said to her husband, What put you out of -temper this evening, Tertius? - -Me? It was Ladislaw who was out of temper. He is like a bit of -tinder. - -But I mean, before that. Something had vexed you before you came in, -you looked cross. And that made you begin to dispute with Mr. Ladislaw. -You hurt me very much when you look so, Tertius. - -Do I? Then I am a brute, said Lydgate, caressing her penitently. - -What vexed you? - -Oh, outdoor thingsbusiness. It was really a letter insisting on the -payment of a bill for furniture. But Rosamond was expecting to have a -baby, and Lydgate wished to save her from any perturbation. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - -Was never true love loved in vain, -For truest love is highest gain. -No art can make it: it must spring -Where elements are fostering. -So in heavens spot and hour -Springs the little native flower, -Downward root and upward eye, -Shapen by the earth and sky. - - -It happened to be on a Saturday evening that Will Ladislaw had that -little discussion with Lydgate. Its effect when he went to his own -rooms was to make him sit up half the night, thinking over again, under -a new irritation, all that he had before thought of his having settled -in Middlemarch and harnessed himself with Mr. Brooke. Hesitations -before he had taken the step had since turned into susceptibility to -every hint that he would have been wiser not to take it; and hence came -his heat towards Lydgatea heat which still kept him restless. Was he -not making a fool of himself?and at a time when he was more than ever -conscious of being something better than a fool? And for what end? - -Well, for no definite end. True, he had dreamy visions of -possibilities: there is no human being who having both passions and -thoughts does not think in consequence of his passionsdoes not find -images rising in his mind which soothe the passion with hope or sting -it with dread. But this, which happens to us all, happens to some with -a wide difference; and Will was not one of those whose wit keeps the -roadway: he had his bypaths where there were little joys of his own -choosing, such as gentlemen cantering on the highroad might have -thought rather idiotic. The way in which he made a sort of happiness -for himself out of his feeling for Dorothea was an example of this. It -may seem strange, but it is the fact, that the ordinary vulgar vision -of which Mr. Casaubon suspected himnamely, that Dorothea might become -a widow, and that the interest he had established in her mind might -turn into acceptance of him as a husbandhad no tempting, arresting -power over him; he did not live in the scenery of such an event, and -follow it out, as we all do with that imagined otherwise which is our -practical heaven. It was not only that he was unwilling to entertain -thoughts which could be accused of baseness, and was already uneasy in -the sense that he had to justify himself from the charge of -ingratitudethe latent consciousness of many other barriers between -himself and Dorothea besides the existence of her husband, had helped -to turn away his imagination from speculating on what might befall Mr. -Casaubon. And there were yet other reasons. Will, we know, could not -bear the thought of any flaw appearing in his crystal: he was at once -exasperated and delighted by the calm freedom with which Dorothea -looked at him and spoke to him, and there was something so exquisite in -thinking of her just as she was, that he could not long for a change -which must somehow change her. Do we not shun the street version of a -fine melody?or shrink from the news that the raritysome bit of -chiselling or engraving perhapswhich we have dwelt on even with -exultation in the trouble it has cost us to snatch glimpses of it, is -really not an uncommon thing, and may be obtained as an every-day -possession? Our good depends on the quality and breadth of our emotion; -and to Will, a creature who cared little for what are called the solid -things of life and greatly for its subtler influences, to have within -him such a feeling as he had towards Dorothea, was like the inheritance -of a fortune. What others might have called the futility of his -passion, made an additional delight for his imagination: he was -conscious of a generous movement, and of verifying in his own -experience that higher love-poetry which had charmed his fancy. -Dorothea, he said to himself, was forever enthroned in his soul: no -other woman could sit higher than her footstool; and if he could have -written out in immortal syllables the effect she wrought within him, he -might have boasted after the example of old Drayton, that, - -Queens hereafter might be glad to live -Upon the alms of her superfluous praise. - - -But this result was questionable. And what else could he do for -Dorothea? What was his devotion worth to her? It was impossible to -tell. He would not go out of her reach. He saw no creature among her -friends to whom he could believe that she spoke with the same simple -confidence as to him. She had once said that she would like him to -stay; and stay he would, whatever fire-breathing dragons might hiss -around her. - -This had always been the conclusion of Wills hesitations. But he was -not without contradictoriness and rebellion even towards his own -resolve. He had often got irritated, as he was on this particular -night, by some outside demonstration that his public exertions with Mr. -Brooke as a chief could not seem as heroic as he would like them to be, -and this was always associated with the other ground of irritationthat -notwithstanding his sacrifice of dignity for Dorotheas sake, he could -hardly ever see her. Whereupon, not being able to contradict these -unpleasant facts, he contradicted his own strongest bias and said, I -am a fool. - -Nevertheless, since the inward debate necessarily turned on Dorothea, -he ended, as he had done before, only by getting a livelier sense of -what her presence would be to him; and suddenly reflecting that the -morrow would be Sunday, he determined to go to Lowick Church and see -her. He slept upon that idea, but when he was dressing in the rational -morning light, Objection said - -That will be a virtual defiance of Mr. Casaubons prohibition to visit -Lowick, and Dorothea will be displeased. - -Nonsense! argued Inclination, it would be too monstrous for him to -hinder me from going out to a pretty country church on a spring -morning. And Dorothea will be glad. - -It will be clear to Mr. Casaubon that you have come either to annoy -him or to see Dorothea. - -It is not true that I go to annoy him, and why should I not go to see -Dorothea? Is he to have everything to himself and be always -comfortable? Let him smart a little, as other people are obliged to do. -I have always liked the quaintness of the church and congregation; -besides, I know the Tuckers: I shall go into their pew. - -Having silenced Objection by force of unreason, Will walked to Lowick -as if he had been on the way to Paradise, crossing Halsell Common and -skirting the wood, where the sunlight fell broadly under the budding -boughs, bringing out the beauties of moss and lichen, and fresh green -growths piercing the brown. Everything seemed to know that it was -Sunday, and to approve of his going to Lowick Church. Will easily felt -happy when nothing crossed his humor, and by this time the thought of -vexing Mr. Casaubon had become rather amusing to him, making his face -break into its merry smile, pleasant to see as the breaking of sunshine -on the waterthough the occasion was not exemplary. But most of us are -apt to settle within ourselves that the man who blocks our way is -odious, and not to mind causing him a little of the disgust which his -personality excites in ourselves. Will went along with a small book -under his arm and a hand in each side-pocket, never reading, but -chanting a little, as he made scenes of what would happen in church and -coming out. He was experimenting in tunes to suit some words of his -own, sometimes trying a ready-made melody, sometimes improvising. The -words were not exactly a hymn, but they certainly fitted his Sunday -experience: - -O me, O me, what frugal cheer - My love doth feed upon! -A touch, a ray, that is not here, - A shadow that is gone: - -A dream of breath that might be near, - An inly-echoed tone, -The thought that one may think me dear, - The place where one was known, - -The tremor of a banished fear, - An ill that was not done -O me, O me, what frugal cheer - My love doth feed upon! - - -Sometimes, when he took off his hat, shaking his head backward, and -showing his delicate throat as he sang, he looked like an incarnation -of the spring whose spirit filled the aira bright creature, abundant -in uncertain promises. - -The bells were still ringing when he got to Lowick, and he went into -the curates pew before any one else arrived there. But he was still -left alone in it when the congregation had assembled. The curates pew -was opposite the rectors at the entrance of the small chancel, and -Will had time to fear that Dorothea might not come while he looked -round at the group of rural faces which made the congregation from year -to year within the white-washed walls and dark old pews, hardly with -more change than we see in the boughs of a tree which breaks here and -there with age, but yet has young shoots. Mr. Riggs frog-face was -something alien and unaccountable, but notwithstanding this shock to -the order of things, there were still the Waules and the rural stock of -the Powderells in their pews side by side; brother Samuels cheek had -the same purple round as ever, and the three generations of decent -cottagers came as of old with a sense of duty to their betters -generallythe smaller children regarding Mr. Casaubon, who wore the -black gown and mounted to the highest box, as probably the chief of all -betters, and the one most awful if offended. Even in 1831 Lowick was at -peace, not more agitated by Reform than by the solemn tenor of the -Sunday sermon. The congregation had been used to seeing Will at church -in former days, and no one took much note of him except the choir, who -expected him to make a figure in the singing. - -Dorothea did at last appear on this quaint background, walking up the -short aisle in her white beaver bonnet and gray cloakthe same she had -worn in the Vatican. Her face being, from her entrance, towards the -chancel, even her shortsighted eyes soon discerned Will, but there was -no outward show of her feeling except a slight paleness and a grave bow -as she passed him. To his own surprise Will felt suddenly -uncomfortable, and dared not look at her after they had bowed to each -other. Two minutes later, when Mr. Casaubon came out of the vestry, -and, entering the pew, seated himself in face of Dorothea, Will felt -his paralysis more complete. He could look nowhere except at the choir -in the little gallery over the vestry-door: Dorothea was perhaps -pained, and he had made a wretched blunder. It was no longer amusing to -vex Mr. Casaubon, who had the advantage probably of watching him and -seeing that he dared not turn his head. Why had he not imagined this -beforehand?but he could not expect that he should sit in that square -pew alone, unrelieved by any Tuckers, who had apparently departed from -Lowick altogether, for a new clergyman was in the desk. Still he called -himself stupid now for not foreseeing that it would be impossible for -him to look towards Dorotheanay, that she might feel his coming an -impertinence. There was no delivering himself from his cage, however; -and Will found his places and looked at his book as if he had been a -school-mistress, feeling that the morning service had never been so -immeasurably long before, that he was utterly ridiculous, out of -temper, and miserable. This was what a man got by worshipping the sight -of a woman! The clerk observed with surprise that Mr. Ladislaw did not -join in the tune of Hanover, and reflected that he might have a cold. - -Mr. Casaubon did not preach that morning, and there was no change in -Wills situation until the blessing had been pronounced and every one -rose. It was the fashion at Lowick for the betters to go out first. -With a sudden determination to break the spell that was upon him, Will -looked straight at Mr. Casaubon. But that gentlemans eyes were on the -button of the pew-door, which he opened, allowing Dorothea to pass, and -following her immediately without raising his eyelids. Wills glance -had caught Dorotheas as she turned out of the pew, and again she -bowed, but this time with a look of agitation, as if she were -repressing tears. Will walked out after them, but they went on towards -the little gate leading out of the churchyard into the shrubbery, never -looking round. - -It was impossible for him to follow them, and he could only walk back -sadly at mid-day along the same road which he had trodden hopefully in -the morning. The lights were all changed for him both without and -within. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - -Surely the golden hours are turning gray -And dance no more, and vainly strive to run: -I see their white locks streaming in the wind -Each face is haggard as it looks at me, -Slow turning in the constant clasping round -Storm-driven. - - -Dorotheas distress when she was leaving the church came chiefly from -the perception that Mr. Casaubon was determined not to speak to his -cousin, and that Wills presence at church had served to mark more -strongly the alienation between them. Wills coming seemed to her quite -excusable, nay, she thought it an amiable movement in him towards a -reconciliation which she herself had been constantly wishing for. He -had probably imagined, as she had, that if Mr. Casaubon and he could -meet easily, they would shake hands and friendly intercourse might -return. But now Dorothea felt quite robbed of that hope. Will was -banished further than ever, for Mr. Casaubon must have been newly -embittered by this thrusting upon him of a presence which he refused to -recognize. - -He had not been very well that morning, suffering from some difficulty -in breathing, and had not preached in consequence; she was not -surprised, therefore, that he was nearly silent at luncheon, still less -that he made no allusion to Will Ladislaw. For her own part she felt -that she could never again introduce that subject. They usually spent -apart the hours between luncheon and dinner on a Sunday; Mr. Casaubon -in the library dozing chiefly, and Dorothea in her boudoir, where she -was wont to occupy herself with some of her favorite books. There was a -little heap of them on the table in the bow-windowof various sorts, -from Herodotus, which she was learning to read with Mr. Casaubon, to -her old companion Pascal, and Kebles Christian Year. But to-day she -opened one after another, and could read none of them. Everything -seemed dreary: the portents before the birth of CyrusJewish -antiquitiesoh dear!devout epigramsthe sacred chime of favorite -hymnsall alike were as flat as tunes beaten on wood: even the spring -flowers and the grass had a dull shiver in them under the afternoon -clouds that hid the sun fitfully; even the sustaining thoughts which -had become habits seemed to have in them the weariness of long future -days in which she would still live with them for her sole companions. -It was another or rather a fuller sort of companionship that poor -Dorothea was hungering for, and the hunger had grown from the perpetual -effort demanded by her married life. She was always trying to be what -her husband wished, and never able to repose on his delight in what she -was. The thing that she liked, that she spontaneously cared to have, -seemed to be always excluded from her life; for if it was only granted -and not shared by her husband it might as well have been denied. About -Will Ladislaw there had been a difference between them from the first, -and it had ended, since Mr. Casaubon had so severely repulsed -Dorotheas strong feeling about his claims on the family property, by -her being convinced that she was in the right and her husband in the -wrong, but that she was helpless. This afternoon the helplessness was -more wretchedly benumbing than ever: she longed for objects who could -be dear to her, and to whom she could be dear. She longed for work -which would be directly beneficent like the sunshine and the rain, and -now it appeared that she was to live more and more in a virtual tomb, -where there was the apparatus of a ghastly labor producing what would -never see the light. Today she had stood at the door of the tomb and -seen Will Ladislaw receding into the distant world of warm activity and -fellowshipturning his face towards her as he went. - -Books were of no use. Thinking was of no use. It was Sunday, and she -could not have the carriage to go to Celia, who had lately had a baby. -There was no refuge now from spiritual emptiness and discontent, and -Dorothea had to bear her bad mood, as she would have borne a headache. - -After dinner, at the hour when she usually began to read aloud, Mr. -Casaubon proposed that they should go into the library, where, he said, -he had ordered a fire and lights. He seemed to have revived, and to be -thinking intently. - -In the library Dorothea observed that he had newly arranged a row of -his note-books on a table, and now he took up and put into her hand a -well-known volume, which was a table of contents to all the others. - -You will oblige me, my dear, he said, seating himself, if instead of -other reading this evening, you will go through this aloud, pencil in -hand, and at each point where I say mark, will make a cross with your -pencil. This is the first step in a sifting process which I have long -had in view, and as we go on I shall be able to indicate to you certain -principles of selection whereby you will, I trust, have an intelligent -participation in my purpose. - -This proposal was only one more sign added to many since his memorable -interview with Lydgate, that Mr. Casaubons original reluctance to let -Dorothea work with him had given place to the contrary disposition, -namely, to demand much interest and labor from her. - -After she had read and marked for two hours, he said, We will take the -volume up-stairsand the pencil, if you pleaseand in case of reading -in the night, we can pursue this task. It is not wearisome to you, I -trust, Dorothea? - -I prefer always reading what you like best to hear, said Dorothea, -who told the simple truth; for what she dreaded was to exert herself in -reading or anything else which left him as joyless as ever. - -It was a proof of the force with which certain characteristics in -Dorothea impressed those around her, that her husband, with all his -jealousy and suspicion, had gathered implicit trust in the integrity of -her promises, and her power of devoting herself to her idea of the -right and best. Of late he had begun to feel that these qualities were -a peculiar possession for himself, and he wanted to engross them. - -The reading in the night did come. Dorothea in her young weariness had -slept soon and fast: she was awakened by a sense of light, which seemed -to her at first like a sudden vision of sunset after she had climbed a -steep hill: she opened her eyes and saw her husband wrapped in his warm -gown seating himself in the arm-chair near the fire-place where the -embers were still glowing. He had lit two candles, expecting that -Dorothea would awake, but not liking to rouse her by more direct means. - -Are you ill, Edward? she said, rising immediately. - -I felt some uneasiness in a reclining posture. I will sit here for a -time. She threw wood on the fire, wrapped herself up, and said, You -would like me to read to you? - -You would oblige me greatly by doing so, Dorothea, said Mr. Casaubon, -with a shade more meekness than usual in his polite manner. I am -wakeful: my mind is remarkably lucid. - -I fear that the excitement may be too great for you, said Dorothea, -remembering Lydgates cautions. - -No, I am not conscious of undue excitement. Thought is easy. Dorothea -dared not insist, and she read for an hour or more on the same plan as -she had done in the evening, but getting over the pages with more -quickness. Mr. Casaubons mind was more alert, and he seemed to -anticipate what was coming after a very slight verbal indication, -saying, That will domark thator Pass on to the next headI omit -the second excursus on Crete. Dorothea was amazed to think of the -bird-like speed with which his mind was surveying the ground where it -had been creeping for years. At last he said - -Close the book now, my dear. We will resume our work to-morrow. I have -deferred it too long, and would gladly see it completed. But you -observe that the principle on which my selection is made, is to give -adequate, and not disproportionate illustration to each of the theses -enumerated in my introduction, as at present sketched. You have -perceived that distinctly, Dorothea? - -Yes, said Dorothea, rather tremulously. She felt sick at heart. - -And now I think that I can take some repose, said Mr. Casaubon. He -laid down again and begged her to put out the lights. When she had lain -down too, and there was a darkness only broken by a dull glow on the -hearth, he said - -Before I sleep, I have a request to make, Dorothea. - -What is it? said Dorothea, with dread in her mind. - -It is that you will let me know, deliberately, whether, in case of my -death, you will carry out my wishes: whether you will avoid doing what -I should deprecate, and apply yourself to do what I should desire. - -Dorothea was not taken by surprise: many incidents had been leading her -to the conjecture of some intention on her husbands part which might -make a new yoke for her. She did not answer immediately. - -You refuse? said Mr. Casaubon, with more edge in his tone. - -No, I do not yet refuse, said Dorothea, in a clear voice, the need of -freedom asserting itself within her; but it is too solemnI think it -is not rightto make a promise when I am ignorant what it will bind me -to. Whatever affection prompted I would do without promising. - -But you would use your own judgment: I ask you to obey mine; you -refuse. - -No, dear, no! said Dorothea, beseechingly, crushed by opposing fears. -But may I wait and reflect a little while? I desire with my whole soul -to do what will comfort you; but I cannot give any pledge -suddenlystill less a pledge to do I know not what. - -You cannot then confide in the nature of my wishes? - -Grant me till to-morrow, said Dorothea, beseechingly. - -Till to-morrow then, said Mr. Casaubon. - -Soon she could hear that he was sleeping, but there was no more sleep -for her. While she constrained herself to lie still lest she should -disturb him, her mind was carrying on a conflict in which imagination -ranged its forces first on one side and then on the other. She had no -presentiment that the power which her husband wished to establish over -her future action had relation to anything else than his work. But it -was clear enough to her that he would expect her to devote herself to -sifting those mixed heaps of material, which were to be the doubtful -illustration of principles still more doubtful. The poor child had -become altogether unbelieving as to the trustworthiness of that Key -which had made the ambition and the labor of her husbands life. It was -not wonderful that, in spite of her small instruction, her judgment in -this matter was truer than his: for she looked with unbiassed -comparison and healthy sense at probabilities on which he had risked -all his egoism. And now she pictured to herself the days, and months, -and years which she must spend in sorting what might be called -shattered mummies, and fragments of a tradition which was itself a -mosaic wrought from crushed ruinssorting them as food for a theory -which was already withered in the birth like an elfin child. Doubtless -a vigorous error vigorously pursued has kept the embryos of truth -a-breathing: the quest of gold being at the same time a questioning of -substances, the body of chemistry is prepared for its soul, and -Lavoisier is born. But Mr. Casaubons theory of the elements which made -the seed of all tradition was not likely to bruise itself unawares -against discoveries: it floated among flexible conjectures no more -solid than those etymologies which seemed strong because of likeness in -sound until it was shown that likeness in sound made them impossible: -it was a method of interpretation which was not tested by the necessity -of forming anything which had sharper collisions than an elaborate -notion of Gog and Magog: it was as free from interruption as a plan for -threading the stars together. And Dorothea had so often had to check -her weariness and impatience over this questionable riddle-guessing, as -it revealed itself to her instead of the fellowship in high knowledge -which was to make life worthier! She could understand well enough now -why her husband had come to cling to her, as possibly the only hope -left that his labors would ever take a shape in which they could be -given to the world. At first it had seemed that he wished to keep even -her aloof from any close knowledge of what he was doing; but gradually -the terrible stringency of human needthe prospect of a too speedy -death - -And here Dorotheas pity turned from her own future to her husbands -pastnay, to his present hard struggle with a lot which had grown out -of that past: the lonely labor, the ambition breathing hardly under the -pressure of self-distrust; the goal receding, and the heavier limbs; -and now at last the sword visibly trembling above him! And had she not -wished to marry him that she might help him in his lifes labor?But -she had thought the work was to be something greater, which she could -serve in devoutly for its own sake. Was it right, even to soothe his -griefwould it be possible, even if she promisedto work as in a -treadmill fruitlessly? - -And yet, could she deny him? Could she say, I refuse to content this -pining hunger? It would be refusing to do for him dead, what she was -almost sure to do for him living. If he lived as Lydgate had said he -might, for fifteen years or more, her life would certainly be spent in -helping him and obeying him. - -Still, there was a deep difference between that devotion to the living -and that indefinite promise of devotion to the dead. While he lived, he -could claim nothing that she would not still be free to remonstrate -against, and even to refuse. Butthe thought passed through her mind -more than once, though she could not believe in itmight he not mean to -demand something more from her than she had been able to imagine, since -he wanted her pledge to carry out his wishes without telling her -exactly what they were? No; his heart was bound up in his work only: -that was the end for which his failing life was to be eked out by hers. - -And now, if she were to say, No! if you die, I will put no finger to -your workit seemed as if she would be crushing that bruised heart. - -For four hours Dorothea lay in this conflict, till she felt ill and -bewildered, unable to resolve, praying mutely. Helpless as a child -which has sobbed and sought too long, she fell into a late morning -sleep, and when she waked Mr. Casaubon was already up. Tantripp told -her that he had read prayers, breakfasted, and was in the library. - -I never saw you look so pale, madam, said Tantripp, a solid-figured -woman who had been with the sisters at Lausanne. - -Was I ever high-colored, Tantripp? said Dorothea, smiling faintly. - -Well, not to say high-colored, but with a bloom like a Chiny rose. But -always smelling those leather books, what can be expected? Do rest a -little this morning, madam. Let me say you are ill and not able to go -into that close library. - -Oh no, no! let me make haste, said Dorothea. Mr. Casaubon wants me -particularly. - -When she went down she felt sure that she should promise to fulfil his -wishes; but that would be later in the daynot yet. - -As Dorothea entered the library, Mr. Casaubon turned round from the -table where he had been placing some books, and said - -I was waiting for your appearance, my dear. I had hoped to set to work -at once this morning, but I find myself under some indisposition, -probably from too much excitement yesterday. I am going now to take a -turn in the shrubbery, since the air is milder. - -I am glad to hear that, said Dorothea. Your mind, I feared, was too -active last night. - -I would fain have it set at rest on the point I last spoke of, -Dorothea. You can now, I hope, give me an answer. - -May I come out to you in the garden presently? said Dorothea, winning -a little breathing space in that way. - -I shall be in the Yew-tree Walk for the next half-hour, said Mr. -Casaubon, and then he left her. - -Dorothea, feeling very weary, rang and asked Tantripp to bring her some -wraps. She had been sitting still for a few minutes, but not in any -renewal of the former conflict: she simply felt that she was going to -say Yes to her own doom: she was too weak, too full of dread at the -thought of inflicting a keen-edged blow on her husband, to do anything -but submit completely. She sat still and let Tantripp put on her bonnet -and shawl, a passivity which was unusual with her, for she liked to -wait on herself. - -God bless you, madam! said Tantripp, with an irrepressible movement -of love towards the beautiful, gentle creature for whom she felt unable -to do anything more, now that she had finished tying the bonnet. - -This was too much for Dorotheas highly-strung feeling, and she burst -into tears, sobbing against Tantripps arm. But soon she checked -herself, dried her eyes, and went out at the glass door into the -shrubbery. - -I wish every book in that library was built into a caticom for your -master, said Tantripp to Pratt, the butler, finding him in the -breakfast-room. She had been at Rome, and visited the antiquities, as -we know; and she always declined to call Mr. Casaubon anything but -your master, when speaking to the other servants. - -Pratt laughed. He liked his master very well, but he liked Tantripp -better. - -When Dorothea was out on the gravel walks, she lingered among the -nearer clumps of trees, hesitating, as she had done once before, though -from a different cause. Then she had feared lest her effort at -fellowship should be unwelcome; now she dreaded going to the spot where -she foresaw that she must bind herself to a fellowship from which she -shrank. Neither law nor the worlds opinion compelled her to thisonly -her husbands nature and her own compassion, only the ideal and not the -real yoke of marriage. She saw clearly enough the whole situation, yet -she was fettered: she could not smite the stricken soul that entreated -hers. If that were weakness, Dorothea was weak. But the half-hour was -passing, and she must not delay longer. When she entered the Yew-tree -Walk she could not see her husband; but the walk had bends, and she -went, expecting to catch sight of his figure wrapped in a blue cloak, -which, with a warm velvet cap, was his outer garment on chill days for -the garden. It occurred to her that he might be resting in the -summer-house, towards which the path diverged a little. Turning the -angle, she could see him seated on the bench, close to a stone table. -His arms were resting on the table, and his brow was bowed down on -them, the blue cloak being dragged forward and screening his face on -each side. - -He exhausted himself last night, Dorothea said to herself, thinking -at first that he was asleep, and that the summer-house was too damp a -place to rest in. But then she remembered that of late she had seen him -take that attitude when she was reading to him, as if he found it -easier than any other; and that he would sometimes speak, as well as -listen, with his face down in that way. She went into the summerhouse -and said, I am come, Edward; I am ready. - -He took no notice, and she thought that he must be fast asleep. She -laid her hand on his shoulder, and repeated, I am ready! Still he was -motionless; and with a sudden confused fear, she leaned down to him, -took off his velvet cap, and leaned her cheek close to his head, crying -in a distressed tone - -Wake, dear, wake! Listen to me. I am come to answer. But Dorothea -never gave her answer. - -Later in the day, Lydgate was seated by her bedside, and she was -talking deliriously, thinking aloud, and recalling what had gone -through her mind the night before. She knew him, and called him by his -name, but appeared to think it right that she should explain everything -to him; and again, and again, begged him to explain everything to her -husband. - -Tell him I shall go to him soon: I am ready to promise. Only, thinking -about it was so dreadfulit has made me ill. Not very ill. I shall soon -be better. Go and tell him. - -But the silence in her husbands ear was never more to be broken. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - -A task too strong for wizard spells -This squire had brought about; -T is easy dropping stones in wells, -But who shall get them out? - - -I wish to God we could hinder Dorothea from knowing this, said Sir -James Chettam, with a little frown on his brow, and an expression of -intense disgust about his mouth. - -He was standing on the hearth-rug in the library at Lowick Grange, and -speaking to Mr. Brooke. It was the day after Mr. Casaubon had been -buried, and Dorothea was not yet able to leave her room. - -That would be difficult, you know, Chettam, as she is an executrix, -and she likes to go into these thingsproperty, land, that kind of -thing. She has her notions, you know, said Mr. Brooke, sticking his -eye-glasses on nervously, and exploring the edges of a folded paper -which he held in his hand; and she would like to actdepend upon it, -as an executrix Dorothea would want to act. And she was twenty-one last -December, you know. I can hinder nothing. - -Sir James looked at the carpet for a minute in silence, and then -lifting his eyes suddenly fixed them on Mr. Brooke, saying, I will -tell you what we can do. Until Dorothea is well, all business must be -kept from her, and as soon as she is able to be moved she must come to -us. Being with Celia and the baby will be the best thing in the world -for her, and will pass away the time. And meanwhile you must get rid of -Ladislaw: you must send him out of the country. Here Sir Jamess look -of disgust returned in all its intensity. - -Mr. Brooke put his hands behind him, walked to the window and -straightened his back with a little shake before he replied. - -That is easily said, Chettam, easily said, you know. - -My dear sir, persisted Sir James, restraining his indignation within -respectful forms, it was you who brought him here, and you who keep -him hereI mean by the occupation you give him. - -Yes, but I cant dismiss him in an instant without assigning reasons, -my dear Chettam. Ladislaw has been invaluable, most satisfactory. I -consider that I have done this part of the country a service by -bringing himby bringing him, you know. Mr. Brooke ended with a nod, -turning round to give it. - -Its a pity this part of the country didnt do without him, thats all -I have to say about it. At any rate, as Dorotheas brother-in-law, I -feel warranted in objecting strongly to his being kept here by any -action on the part of her friends. You admit, I hope, that I have a -right to speak about what concerns the dignity of my wifes sister? - -Sir James was getting warm. - -Of course, my dear Chettam, of course. But you and I have different -ideasdifferent - -Not about this action of Casaubons, I should hope, interrupted Sir -James. I say that he has most unfairly compromised Dorothea. I say -that there never was a meaner, more ungentlemanly action than thisa -codicil of this sort to a will which he made at the time of his -marriage with the knowledge and reliance of her familya positive -insult to Dorothea! - -Well, you know, Casaubon was a little twisted about Ladislaw. Ladislaw -has told me the reasondislike of the bent he took, you knowLadislaw -didnt think much of Casaubons notions, Thoth and Dagonthat sort of -thing: and I fancy that Casaubon didnt like the independent position -Ladislaw had taken up. I saw the letters between them, you know. Poor -Casaubon was a little buried in bookshe didnt know the world. - -Its all very well for Ladislaw to put that color on it, said Sir -James. But I believe Casaubon was only jealous of him on Dorotheas -account, and the world will suppose that she gave him some reason; and -that is what makes it so abominablecoupling her name with this young -fellows. - -My dear Chettam, it wont lead to anything, you know, said Mr. -Brooke, seating himself and sticking on his eye-glass again. Its all -of a piece with Casaubons oddity. This paper, now, Synoptical -Tabulation and so on, for the use of Mrs. Casaubon, it was locked up -in the desk with the will. I suppose he meant Dorothea to publish his -researches, eh? and shell do it, you know; she has gone into his -studies uncommonly. - -My dear sir, said Sir James, impatiently, that is neither here nor -there. The question is, whether you dont see with me the propriety of -sending young Ladislaw away? - -Well, no, not the urgency of the thing. By-and-by, perhaps, it may -come round. As to gossip, you know, sending him away wont hinder -gossip. People say what they like to say, not what they have chapter -and verse for, said Mr Brooke, becoming acute about the truths that -lay on the side of his own wishes. I might get rid of Ladislaw up to a -certain pointtake away the Pioneer from him, and that sort of thing; -but I couldnt send him out of the country if he didnt choose to -godidnt choose, you know. - -Mr. Brooke, persisting as quietly as if he were only discussing the -nature of last years weather, and nodding at the end with his usual -amenity, was an exasperating form of obstinacy. - -Good God! said Sir James, with as much passion as he ever showed, -let us get him a post; let us spend money on him. If he could go in -the suite of some Colonial Governor! Grampus might take himand I could -write to Fulke about it. - -But Ladislaw wont be shipped off like a head of cattle, my dear -fellow; Ladislaw has his ideas. Its my opinion that if he were to part -from me to-morrow, youd only hear the more of him in the country. With -his talent for speaking and drawing up documents, there are few men who -could come up to him as an agitatoran agitator, you know. - -Agitator! said Sir James, with bitter emphasis, feeling that the -syllables of this word properly repeated were a sufficient exposure of -its hatefulness. - -But be reasonable, Chettam. Dorothea, now. As you say, she had better -go to Celia as soon as possible. She can stay under your roof, and in -the mean time things may come round quietly. Dont let us be firing off -our guns in a hurry, you know. Standish will keep our counsel, and the -news will be old before its known. Twenty things may happen to carry -off Ladislawwithout my doing anything, you know. - -Then I am to conclude that you decline to do anything? - -Decline, Chettam?noI didnt say decline. But I really dont see what -I could do. Ladislaw is a gentleman. - -I am glad to hear it! said Sir James, his irritation making him -forget himself a little. I am sure Casaubon was not. - -Well, it would have been worse if he had made the codicil to hinder -her from marrying again at all, you know. - -I dont know that, said Sir James. It would have been less -indelicate. - -One of poor Casaubons freaks! That attack upset his brain a little. -It all goes for nothing. She doesnt _want_ to marry Ladislaw. - -But this codicil is framed so as to make everybody believe that she -did. I dont believe anything of the sort about Dorothea, said Sir -Jamesthen frowningly, but I suspect Ladislaw. I tell you frankly, I -suspect Ladislaw. - -I couldnt take any immediate action on that ground, Chettam. In fact, -if it were possible to pack him offsend him to Norfolk Islandthat -sort of thingit would look all the worse for Dorothea to those who -knew about it. It would seem as if we distrusted herdistrusted her, -you know. - -That Mr. Brooke had hit on an undeniable argument, did not tend to -soothe Sir James. He put out his hand to reach his hat, implying that -he did not mean to contend further, and said, still with some heat - -Well, I can only say that I think Dorothea was sacrificed once, -because her friends were too careless. I shall do what I can, as her -brother, to protect her now. - -You cant do better than get her to Freshitt as soon as possible, -Chettam. I approve that plan altogether, said Mr. Brooke, well pleased -that he had won the argument. It would have been highly inconvenient to -him to part with Ladislaw at that time, when a dissolution might happen -any day, and electors were to be convinced of the course by which the -interests of the country would be best served. Mr. Brooke sincerely -believed that this end could be secured by his own return to -Parliament: he offered the forces of his mind honestly to the nation. - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -This Loller here wol precilen us somewhat. -Nay by my fathers soule! that schal he nat, -Sayde the Schipman, here schal he not preche, -We schal no gospel glosen here ne teche. -We leven all in the gret God, quod he. -He wolden sowen some diffcultee._Canterbury Tales_. - - -Dorothea had been safe at Freshitt Hall nearly a week before she had -asked any dangerous questions. Every morning now she sat with Celia in -the prettiest of up-stairs sitting-rooms, opening into a small -conservatoryCelia all in white and lavender like a bunch of mixed -violets, watching the remarkable acts of the baby, which were so -dubious to her inexperienced mind that all conversation was interrupted -by appeals for their interpretation made to the oracular nurse. -Dorothea sat by in her widows dress, with an expression which rather -provoked Celia, as being much too sad; for not only was baby quite -well, but really when a husband had been so dull and troublesome while -he lived, and besides that hadwell, well! Sir James, of course, had -told Celia everything, with a strong representation how important it -was that Dorothea should not know it sooner than was inevitable. - -But Mr. Brooke had been right in predicting that Dorothea would not -long remain passive where action had been assigned to her; she knew the -purport of her husbands will made at the time of their marriage, and -her mind, as soon as she was clearly conscious of her position, was -silently occupied with what she ought to do as the owner of Lowick -Manor with the patronage of the living attached to it. - -One morning when her uncle paid his usual visit, though with an unusual -alacrity in his manner which he accounted for by saying that it was now -pretty certain Parliament would be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea said - -Uncle, it is right now that I should consider who is to have the -living at Lowick. After Mr. Tucker had been provided for, I never heard -my husband say that he had any clergyman in his mind as a successor to -himself. I think I ought to have the keys now and go to Lowick to -examine all my husbands papers. There may be something that would -throw light on his wishes. - -No hurry, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, quietly. By-and-by, you know, -you can go, if you like. But I cast my eyes over things in the desks -and drawersthere was nothingnothing but deep subjects, you -knowbesides the will. Everything can be done by-and-by. As to the -living, I have had an application for interest alreadyI should say -rather good. Mr. Tyke has been strongly recommended to meI had -something to do with getting him an appointment before. An apostolic -man, I believethe sort of thing that would suit you, my dear. - -I should like to have fuller knowledge about him, uncle, and judge for -myself, if Mr. Casaubon has not left any expression of his wishes. He -has perhaps made some addition to his willthere may be some -instructions for me, said Dorothea, who had all the while had this -conjecture in her mind with relation to her husbands work. - -Nothing about the rectory, my dearnothing, said Mr. Brooke, rising -to go away, and putting out his hand to his nieces: nor about his -researches, you know. Nothing in the will. - -Dorotheas lip quivered. - -Come, you must not think of these things yet, my dear. By-and-by, you -know. - -I am quite well now, uncle; I wish to exert myself. - -Well, well, we shall see. But I must run away nowI have no end of -work nowits a crisisa political crisis, you know. And here is Celia -and her little manyou are an aunt, you know, now, and I am a sort of -grandfather, said Mr. Brooke, with placid hurry, anxious to get away -and tell Chettam that it would not be his (Mr. Brookes) fault if -Dorothea insisted on looking into everything. - -Dorothea sank back in her chair when her uncle had left the room, and -cast her eyes down meditatively on her crossed hands. - -Look, Dodo! look at him! Did you ever see anything like that? said -Celia, in her comfortable staccato. - -What, Kitty? said Dorothea, lifting her eyes rather absently. - -What? why, his upper lip; see how he is drawing it down, as if he -meant to make a face. Isnt it wonderful! He may have his little -thoughts. I wish nurse were here. Do look at him. - -A large tear which had been for some time gathering, rolled down -Dorotheas cheek as she looked up and tried to smile. - -Dont be sad, Dodo; kiss baby. What are you brooding over so? I am -sure you did everything, and a great deal too much. You should be happy -now. - -I wonder if Sir James would drive me to Lowick. I want to look over -everythingto see if there were any words written for me. - -You are not to go till Mr. Lydgate says you may go. And he has not -said so yet (here you are, nurse; take baby and walk up and down the -gallery). Besides, you have got a wrong notion in your head as usual, -DodoI can see that: it vexes me. - -Where am I wrong, Kitty? said Dorothea, quite meekly. She was almost -ready now to think Celia wiser than herself, and was really wondering -with some fear what her wrong notion was. Celia felt her advantage, and -was determined to use it. None of them knew Dodo as well as she did, or -knew how to manage her. Since Celias baby was born, she had had a new -sense of her mental solidity and calm wisdom. It seemed clear that -where there was a baby, things were right enough, and that error, in -general, was a mere lack of that central poising force. - -I can see what you are thinking of as well as can be, Dodo, said -Celia. You are wanting to find out if there is anything uncomfortable -for you to do now, only because Mr. Casaubon wished it. As if you had -not been uncomfortable enough before. And he doesnt deserve it, and -you will find that out. He has behaved very badly. James is as angry -with him as can be. And I had better tell you, to prepare you. - -Celia, said Dorothea, entreatingly, you distress me. Tell me at once -what you mean. It glanced through her mind that Mr. Casaubon had left -the property away from herwhich would not be so very distressing. - -Why, he has made a codicil to his will, to say the property was all to -go away from you if you marriedI mean - -That is of no consequence, said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously. - -But if you married Mr. Ladislaw, not anybody else, Celia went on with -persevering quietude. Of course that is of no consequence in one -wayyou never _would_ marry Mr. Ladislaw; but that only makes it worse -of Mr. Casaubon. - -The blood rushed to Dorotheas face and neck painfully. But Celia was -administering what she thought a sobering dose of fact. It was taking -up notions that had done Dodos health so much harm. So she went on in -her neutral tone, as if she had been remarking on babys robes. - -James says so. He says it is abominable, and not like a gentleman. And -there never was a better judge than James. It is as if Mr. Casaubon -wanted to make people believe that you would wish to marry Mr. -Ladislawwhich is ridiculous. Only James says it was to hinder Mr. -Ladislaw from wanting to marry you for your moneyjust as if he ever -would think of making you an offer. Mrs. Cadwallader said you might as -well marry an Italian with white mice! But I must just go and look at -baby, Celia added, without the least change of tone, throwing a light -shawl over her, and tripping away. - -Dorothea by this time had turned cold again, and now threw herself back -helplessly in her chair. She might have compared her experience at that -moment to the vague, alarmed consciousness that her life was taking on -a new form, that she was undergoing a metamorphosis in which memory -would not adjust itself to the stirring of new organs. Everything was -changing its aspect: her husbands conduct, her own duteous feeling -towards him, every struggle between themand yet more, her whole -relation to Will Ladislaw. Her world was in a state of convulsive -change; the only thing she could say distinctly to herself was, that -she must wait and think anew. One change terrified her as if it had -been a sin; it was a violent shock of repulsion from her departed -husband, who had had hidden thoughts, perhaps perverting everything she -said and did. Then again she was conscious of another change which also -made her tremulous; it was a sudden strange yearning of heart towards -Will Ladislaw. It had never before entered her mind that he could, -under any circumstances, be her lover: conceive the effect of the -sudden revelation that another had thought of him in that lightthat -perhaps he himself had been conscious of such a possibility,and this -with the hurrying, crowding vision of unfitting conditions, and -questions not soon to be solved. - -It seemed a long whileshe did not know how longbefore she heard Celia -saying, That will do, nurse; he will be quiet on my lap now. You can -go to lunch, and let Garratt stay in the next room. What I think, -Dodo, Celia went on, observing nothing more than that Dorothea was -leaning back in her chair, and likely to be passive, is that Mr. -Casaubon was spiteful. I never did like him, and James never did. I -think the corners of his mouth were dreadfully spiteful. And now he has -behaved in this way, I am sure religion does not require you to make -yourself uncomfortable about him. If he has been taken away, that is a -mercy, and you ought to be grateful. We should not grieve, should we, -baby? said Celia confidentially to that unconscious centre and poise -of the world, who had the most remarkable fists all complete even to -the nails, and hair enough, really, when you took his cap off, to -makeyou didnt know what:in short, he was Bouddha in a Western form. - -At this crisis Lydgate was announced, and one of the first things he -said was, I fear you are not so well as you were, Mrs. Casaubon; have -you been agitated? allow me to feel your pulse. Dorotheas hand was of -a marble coldness. - -She wants to go to Lowick, to look over papers, said Celia. She -ought not, ought she? - -Lydgate did not speak for a few moments. Then he said, looking at -Dorothea. I hardly know. In my opinion Mrs. Casaubon should do what -would give her the most repose of mind. That repose will not always -come from being forbidden to act. - -Thank you, said Dorothea, exerting herself, I am sure that is wise. -There are so many things which I ought to attend to. Why should I sit -here idle? Then, with an effort to recall subjects not connected with -her agitation, she added, abruptly, You know every one in Middlemarch, -I think, Mr. Lydgate. I shall ask you to tell me a great deal. I have -serious things to do now. I have a living to give away. You know Mr. -Tyke and all the But Dorotheas effort was too much for her; she -broke off and burst into sobs. - -Lydgate made her drink a dose of sal volatile. - -Let Mrs. Casaubon do as she likes, he said to Sir James, whom he -asked to see before quitting the house. She wants perfect freedom, I -think, more than any other prescription. - -His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had enabled him -to form some true conclusions concerning the trials of her life. He -felt sure that she had been suffering from the strain and conflict of -self-repression; and that she was likely now to feel herself only in -another sort of pinfold than that from which she had been released. - -Lydgates advice was all the easier for Sir James to follow when he -found that Celia had already told Dorothea the unpleasant fact about -the will. There was no help for it nowno reason for any further delay -in the execution of necessary business. And the next day Sir James -complied at once with her request that he would drive her to Lowick. - -I have no wish to stay there at present, said Dorothea; I could -hardly bear it. I am much happier at Freshitt with Celia. I shall be -able to think better about what should be done at Lowick by looking at -it from a distance. And I should like to be at the Grange a little -while with my uncle, and go about in all the old walks and among the -people in the village. - -Not yet, I think. Your uncle is having political company, and you are -better out of the way of such doings, said Sir James, who at that -moment thought of the Grange chiefly as a haunt of young Ladislaws. -But no word passed between him and Dorothea about the objectionable -part of the will; indeed, both of them felt that the mention of it -between them would be impossible. Sir James was shy, even with men, -about disagreeable subjects; and the one thing that Dorothea would have -chosen to say, if she had spoken on the matter at all, was forbidden to -her at present because it seemed to be a further exposure of her -husbands injustice. Yet she did wish that Sir James could know what -had passed between her and her husband about Will Ladislaws moral -claim on the property: it would then, she thought, be apparent to him -as it was to her, that her husbands strange indelicate proviso had -been chiefly urged by his bitter resistance to that idea of claim, and -not merely by personal feelings more difficult to talk about. Also, it -must be admitted, Dorothea wished that this could be known for Wills -sake, since her friends seemed to think of him as simply an object of -Mr. Casaubons charity. Why should he be compared with an Italian -carrying white mice? That word quoted from Mrs. Cadwallader seemed like -a mocking travesty wrought in the dark by an impish finger. - -At Lowick Dorothea searched desk and drawersearched all her husbands -places of deposit for private writing, but found no paper addressed -especially to her, except that Synoptical Tabulation, which was -probably only the beginning of many intended directions for her -guidance. In carrying out this bequest of labor to Dorothea, as in all -else, Mr. Casaubon had been slow and hesitating, oppressed in the plan -of transmitting his work, as he had been in executing it, by the sense -of moving heavily in a dim and clogging medium: distrust of Dorotheas -competence to arrange what he had prepared was subdued only by distrust -of any other redactor. But he had come at last to create a trust for -himself out of Dorotheas nature: she could do what she resolved to do: -and he willingly imagined her toiling under the fetters of a promise to -erect a tomb with his name upon it. (Not that Mr. Casaubon called the -future volumes a tomb; he called them the Key to all Mythologies.) But -the months gained on him and left his plans belated: he had only had -time to ask for that promise by which he sought to keep his cold grasp -on Dorotheas life. - -The grasp had slipped away. Bound by a pledge given from the depths of -her pity, she would have been capable of undertaking a toil which her -judgment whispered was vain for all uses except that consecration of -faithfulness which is a supreme use. But now her judgment, instead of -being controlled by duteous devotion, was made active by the -imbittering discovery that in her past union there had lurked the -hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion. The living, suffering man -was no longer before her to awaken her pity: there remained only the -retrospect of painful subjection to a husband whose thoughts had been -lower than she had believed, whose exorbitant claims for himself had -even blinded his scrupulous care for his own character, and made him -defeat his own pride by shocking men of ordinary honor. As for the -property which was the sign of that broken tie, she would have been -glad to be free from it and have nothing more than her original fortune -which had been settled on her, if there had not been duties attached to -ownership, which she ought not to flinch from. About this property many -troublous questions insisted on rising: had she not been right in -thinking that the half of it ought to go to Will Ladislaw?but was it -not impossible now for her to do that act of justice? Mr. Casaubon had -taken a cruelly effective means of hindering her: even with indignation -against him in her heart, any act that seemed a triumphant eluding of -his purpose revolted her. - -After collecting papers of business which she wished to examine, she -locked up again the desks and drawersall empty of personal words for -herempty of any sign that in her husbands lonely brooding his heart -had gone out to her in excuse or explanation; and she went back to -Freshitt with the sense that around his last hard demand and his last -injurious assertion of his power, the silence was unbroken. - -Dorothea tried now to turn her thoughts towards immediate duties, and -one of these was of a kind which others were determined to remind her -of. Lydgates ear had caught eagerly her mention of the living, and as -soon as he could, he reopened the subject, seeing here a possibility of -making amends for the casting-vote he had once given with an -ill-satisfied conscience. Instead of telling you anything about Mr. -Tyke, he said, I should like to speak of another manMr. Farebrother, -the Vicar of St. Botolphs. His living is a poor one, and gives him a -stinted provision for himself and his family. His mother, aunt, and -sister all live with him, and depend upon him. I believe he has never -married because of them. I never heard such good preaching as hissuch -plain, easy eloquence. He would have done to preach at St. Pauls Cross -after old Latimer. His talk is just as good about all subjects: -original, simple, clear. I think him a remarkable fellow: he ought to -have done more than he has done. - -Why has he not done more? said Dorothea, interested now in all who -had slipped below their own intention. - -Thats a hard question, said Lydgate. I find myself that its -uncommonly difficult to make the right thing work: there are so many -strings pulling at once. Farebrother often hints that he has got into -the wrong profession; he wants a wider range than that of a poor -clergyman, and I suppose he has no interest to help him on. He is very -fond of Natural History and various scientific matters, and he is -hampered in reconciling these tastes with his position. He has no money -to sparehardly enough to use; and that has led him into -card-playingMiddlemarch is a great place for whist. He does play for -money, and he wins a good deal. Of course that takes him into company a -little beneath him, and makes him slack about some things; and yet, -with all that, looking at him as a whole, I think he is one of the most -blameless men I ever knew. He has neither venom nor doubleness in him, -and those often go with a more correct outside. - -I wonder whether he suffers in his conscience because of that habit, -said Dorothea; I wonder whether he wishes he could leave it off. - -I have no doubt he would leave it off, if he were transplanted into -plenty: he would be glad of the time for other things. - -My uncle says that Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man, said -Dorothea, meditatively. She was wishing it were possible to restore the -times of primitive zeal, and yet thinking of Mr. Farebrother with a -strong desire to rescue him from his chance-gotten money. - -I dont pretend to say that Farebrother is apostolic, said Lydgate. -His position is not quite like that of the Apostles: he is only a -parson among parishioners whose lives he has to try and make better. -Practically I find that what is called being apostolic now, is an -impatience of everything in which the parson doesnt cut the principal -figure. I see something of that in Mr. Tyke at the Hospital: a good -deal of his doctrine is a sort of pinching hard to make people -uncomfortably aware of him. Besides, an apostolic man at Lowick!he -ought to think, as St. Francis did, that it is needful to preach to the -birds. - -True, said Dorothea. It is hard to imagine what sort of notions our -farmers and laborers get from their teaching. I have been looking into -a volume of sermons by Mr. Tyke: such sermons would be of no use at -LowickI mean, about imputed righteousness and the prophecies in the -Apocalypse. I have always been thinking of the different ways in which -Christianity is taught, and whenever I find one way that makes it a -wider blessing than any other, I cling to that as the truestI mean -that which takes in the most good of all kinds, and brings in the most -people as sharers in it. It is surely better to pardon too much, than -to condemn too much. But I should like to see Mr. Farebrother and hear -him preach. - -Do, said Lydgate; I trust to the effect of that. He is very much -beloved, but he has his enemies too: there are always people who cant -forgive an able man for differing from them. And that money-winning -business is really a blot. You dont, of course, see many Middlemarch -people: but Mr. Ladislaw, who is constantly seeing Mr. Brooke, is a -great friend of Mr. Farebrothers old ladies, and would be glad to sing -the Vicars praises. One of the old ladiesMiss Noble, the auntis a -wonderfully quaint picture of self-forgetful goodness, and Ladislaw -gallants her about sometimes. I met them one day in a back street: you -know Ladislaws looka sort of Daphnis in coat and waistcoat; and this -little old maid reaching up to his armthey looked like a couple -dropped out of a romantic comedy. But the best evidence about -Farebrother is to see him and hear him. - -Happily Dorothea was in her private sitting-room when this conversation -occurred, and there was no one present to make Lydgates innocent -introduction of Ladislaw painful to her. As was usual with him in -matters of personal gossip, Lydgate had quite forgotten Rosamonds -remark that she thought Will adored Mrs. Casaubon. At that moment he -was only caring for what would recommend the Farebrother family; and he -had purposely given emphasis to the worst that could be said about the -Vicar, in order to forestall objections. In the weeks since Mr. -Casaubons death he had hardly seen Ladislaw, and he had heard no rumor -to warn him that Mr. Brookes confidential secretary was a dangerous -subject with Mrs. Casaubon. When he was gone, his picture of Ladislaw -lingered in her mind and disputed the ground with that question of the -Lowick living. What was Will Ladislaw thinking about her? Would he hear -of that fact which made her cheeks burn as they never used to do? And -how would he feel when he heard it?But she could see as well as -possible how he smiled down at the little old maid. An Italian with -white mice!on the contrary, he was a creature who entered into every -ones feelings, and could take the pressure of their thought instead of -urging his own with iron resistance. - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - -Party is Nature too, and you shall see -By force of Logic how they both agree: -The Many in the One, the One in Many; -All is not Some, nor Some the same as Any: -Genus holds species, both are great or small; -One genus highest, one not high at all; -Each species has its differentia too, -This is not That, and He was never You, -Though this and that are AYES, and you and he -Are like as one to one, or three to three. - - -No gossip about Mr. Casaubons will had yet reached Ladislaw: the air -seemed to be filled with the dissolution of Parliament and the coming -election, as the old wakes and fairs were filled with the rival clatter -of itinerant shows; and more private noises were taken little notice -of. The famous dry election was at hand, in which the depths of -public feeling might be measured by the low flood-mark of drink. Will -Ladislaw was one of the busiest at this time; and though Dorotheas -widowhood was continually in his thought, he was so far from wishing to -be spoken to on the subject, that when Lydgate sought him out to tell -him what had passed about the Lowick living, he answered rather -waspishly - -Why should you bring me into the matter? I never see Mrs. Casaubon, -and am not likely to see her, since she is at Freshitt. I never go -there. It is Tory ground, where I and the Pioneer are no more welcome -than a poacher and his gun. - -The fact was that Will had been made the more susceptible by observing -that Mr. Brooke, instead of wishing him, as before, to come to the -Grange oftener than was quite agreeable to himself, seemed now to -contrive that he should go there as little as possible. This was a -shuffling concession of Mr. Brookes to Sir James Chettams indignant -remonstrance; and Will, awake to the slightest hint in this direction, -concluded that he was to be kept away from the Grange on Dorotheas -account. Her friends, then, regarded him with some suspicion? Their -fears were quite superfluous: they were very much mistaken if they -imagined that he would put himself forward as a needy adventurer trying -to win the favor of a rich woman. - -Until now Will had never fully seen the chasm between himself and -Dorotheauntil now that he was come to the brink of it, and saw her on -the other side. He began, not without some inward rage, to think of -going away from the neighborhood: it would be impossible for him to -show any further interest in Dorothea without subjecting himself to -disagreeable imputationsperhaps even in her mind, which others might -try to poison. - -We are forever divided, said Will. I might as well be at Rome; she -would be no farther from me. But what we call our despair is often -only the painful eagerness of unfed hope. There were plenty of reasons -why he should not gopublic reasons why he should not quit his post at -this crisis, leaving Mr. Brooke in the lurch when he needed coaching -for the election, and when there was so much canvassing, direct and -indirect, to be carried on. Will could not like to leave his own -chessmen in the heat of a game; and any candidate on the right side, -even if his brain and marrow had been as soft as was consistent with a -gentlemanly bearing, might help to turn a majority. To coach Mr. Brooke -and keep him steadily to the idea that he must pledge himself to vote -for the actual Reform Bill, instead of insisting on his independence -and power of pulling up in time, was not an easy task. Mr. -Farebrothers prophecy of a fourth candidate in the bag had not yet -been fulfilled, neither the Parliamentary Candidate Society nor any -other power on the watch to secure a reforming majority seeing a worthy -nodus for interference while there was a second reforming candidate -like Mr. Brooke, who might be returned at his own expense; and the -fight lay entirely between Pinkerton the old Tory member, Bagster the -new Whig member returned at the last election, and Brooke the future -independent member, who was to fetter himself for this occasion only. -Mr. Hawley and his party would bend all their forces to the return of -Pinkerton, and Mr. Brookes success must depend either on plumpers -which would leave Bagster in the rear, or on the new minting of Tory -votes into reforming votes. The latter means, of course, would be -preferable. - -This prospect of converting votes was a dangerous distraction to Mr. -Brooke: his impression that waverers were likely to be allured by -wavering statements, and also the liability of his mind to stick afresh -at opposing arguments as they turned up in his memory, gave Will -Ladislaw much trouble. - -You know there are tactics in these things, said Mr. Brooke; meeting -people half-waytempering your ideassaying, Well now, theres -something in that, and so on. I agree with you that this is a peculiar -occasionthe country with a will of its ownpolitical unionsthat sort -of thingbut we sometimes cut with rather too sharp a knife, Ladislaw. -These ten-pound householders, now: why ten? Draw the line -somewhereyes: but why just at ten? Thats a difficult question, now, -if you go into it. - -Of course it is, said Will, impatiently. But if you are to wait till -we get a logical Bill, you must put yourself forward as a -revolutionist, and then Middlemarch would not elect you, I fancy. As -for trimming, this is not a time for trimming. - -Mr. Brooke always ended by agreeing with Ladislaw, who still appeared -to him a sort of Burke with a leaven of Shelley; but after an interval -the wisdom of his own methods reasserted itself, and he was again drawn -into using them with much hopefulness. At this stage of affairs he was -in excellent spirits, which even supported him under large advances of -money; for his powers of convincing and persuading had not yet been -tested by anything more difficult than a chairmans speech introducing -other orators, or a dialogue with a Middlemarch voter, from which he -came away with a sense that he was a tactician by nature, and that it -was a pity he had not gone earlier into this kind of thing. He was a -little conscious of defeat, however, with Mr. Mawmsey, a chief -representative in Middlemarch of that great social power, the retail -trader, and naturally one of the most doubtful voters in the -boroughwilling for his own part to supply an equal quality of teas and -sugars to reformer and anti-reformer, as well as to agree impartially -with both, and feeling like the burgesses of old that this necessity of -electing members was a great burthen to a town; for even if there were -no danger in holding out hopes to all parties beforehand, there would -be the painful necessity at last of disappointing respectable people -whose names were on his books. He was accustomed to receive large -orders from Mr. Brooke of Tipton; but then, there were many of -Pinkertons committee whose opinions had a great weight of grocery on -their side. Mr. Mawmsey thinking that Mr. Brooke, as not too clever in -his intellects, was the more likely to forgive a grocer who gave a -hostile vote under pressure, had become confidential in his back -parlor. - -As to Reform, sir, put it in a family light, he said, rattling the -small silver in his pocket, and smiling affably. Will it support Mrs. -Mawmsey, and enable her to bring up six children when I am no more? I -put the question _fictiously_, knowing what must be the answer. Very -well, sir. I ask you what, as a husband and a father, I am to do when -gentlemen come to me and say, Do as you like, Mawmsey; but if you vote -against us, I shall get my groceries elsewhere: when I sugar my liquor -I like to feel that I am benefiting the country by maintaining -tradesmen of the right color. Those very words have been spoken to me, -sir, in the very chair where you are now sitting. I dont mean by your -honorable self, Mr. Brooke. - -No, no, nothats narrow, you know. Until my butler complains to me of -your goods, Mr. Mawmsey, said Mr. Brooke, soothingly, until I hear -that you send bad sugars, spicesthat sort of thingI shall never order -him to go elsewhere. - -Sir, I am your humble servant, and greatly obliged, said Mr. Mawmsey, -feeling that politics were clearing up a little. There would be some -pleasure in voting for a gentleman who speaks in that honorable -manner. - -Well, you know, Mr. Mawmsey, you would find it the right thing to put -yourself on our side. This Reform will touch everybody by-and-bya -thoroughly popular measurea sort of A, B, C, you know, that must come -first before the rest can follow. I quite agree with you that youve -got to look at the thing in a family light: but public spirit, now. -Were all one family, you knowits all one cupboard. Such a thing as a -vote, now: why, it may help to make mens fortunes at the Capetheres -no knowing what may be the effect of a vote, Mr. Brooke ended, with a -sense of being a little out at sea, though finding it still enjoyable. -But Mr. Mawmsey answered in a tone of decisive check. - -I beg your pardon, sir, but I cant afford that. When I give a vote I -must know what I am doing; I must look to what will be the effects on -my till and ledger, speaking respectfully. Prices, Ill admit, are what -nobody can know the merits of; and the sudden falls after youve bought -in currants, which are a goods that will not keepIve never; myself -seen into the ins and outs there; which is a rebuke to human pride. But -as to one family, theres debtor and creditor, I hope; theyre not -going to reform that away; else I should vote for things staying as -they are. Few men have less need to cry for change than I have, -personally speakingthat is, for self and family. I am not one of those -who have nothing to lose: I mean as to respectability both in parish -and private business, and noways in respect of your honorable self and -custom, which you was good enough to say you would not withdraw from -me, vote or no vote, while the article sent in was satisfactory. - -After this conversation Mr. Mawmsey went up and boasted to his wife -that he had been rather too many for Brooke of Tipton, and that he -didnt mind so much now about going to the poll. - -Mr. Brooke on this occasion abstained from boasting of his tactics to -Ladislaw, who for his part was glad enough to persuade himself that he -had no concern with any canvassing except the purely argumentative -sort, and that he worked no meaner engine than knowledge. Mr. Brooke, -necessarily, had his agents, who understood the nature of the -Middlemarch voter and the means of enlisting his ignorance on the side -of the Billwhich were remarkably similar to the means of enlisting it -on the side against the Bill. Will stopped his ears. Occasionally -Parliament, like the rest of our lives, even to our eating and apparel, -could hardly go on if our imaginations were too active about processes. -There were plenty of dirty-handed men in the world to do dirty -business; and Will protested to himself that his share in bringing Mr. -Brooke through would be quite innocent. - -But whether he should succeed in that mode of contributing to the -majority on the right side was very doubtful to him. He had written out -various speeches and memoranda for speeches, but he had begun to -perceive that Mr. Brookes mind, if it had the burthen of remembering -any train of thought, would let it drop, run away in search of it, and -not easily come back again. To collect documents is one mode of serving -your country, and to remember the contents of a document is another. -No! the only way in which Mr. Brooke could be coerced into thinking of -the right arguments at the right time was to be well plied with them -till they took up all the room in his brain. But here there was the -difficulty of finding room, so many things having been taken in -beforehand. Mr. Brooke himself observed that his ideas stood rather in -his way when he was speaking. - -However, Ladislaws coaching was forthwith to be put to the test, for -before the day of nomination Mr. Brooke was to explain himself to the -worthy electors of Middlemarch from the balcony of the White Hart, -which looked out advantageously at an angle of the market-place, -commanding a large area in front and two converging streets. It was a -fine May morning, and everything seemed hopeful: there was some -prospect of an understanding between Bagsters committee and Brookes, -to which Mr. Bulstrode, Mr. Standish as a Liberal lawyer, and such -manufacturers as Mr. Plymdale and Mr. Vincy, gave a solidity which -almost counterbalanced Mr. Hawley and his associates who sat for -Pinkerton at the Green Dragon. Mr. Brooke, conscious of having weakened -the blasts of the Trumpet against him, by his reforms as a landlord -in the last half year, and hearing himself cheered a little as he drove -into the town, felt his heart tolerably light under his buff-colored -waistcoat. But with regard to critical occasions, it often happens that -all moments seem comfortably remote until the last. - -This looks well, eh? said Mr. Brooke as the crowd gathered. I shall -have a good audience, at any rate. I like this, nowthis kind of public -made up of ones own neighbors, you know. - -The weavers and tanners of Middlemarch, unlike Mr. Mawmsey, had never -thought of Mr. Brooke as a neighbor, and were not more attached to him -than if he had been sent in a box from London. But they listened -without much disturbance to the speakers who introduced the candidate, -one of thema political personage from Brassing, who came to tell -Middlemarch its dutyspoke so fully, that it was alarming to think what -the candidate could find to say after him. Meanwhile the crowd became -denser, and as the political personage neared the end of his speech, -Mr. Brooke felt a remarkable change in his sensations while he still -handled his eye-glass, trifled with documents before him, and exchanged -remarks with his committee, as a man to whom the moment of summons was -indifferent. - -Ill take another glass of sherry, Ladislaw, he said, with an easy -air, to Will, who was close behind him, and presently handed him the -supposed fortifier. It was ill-chosen; for Mr. Brooke was an abstemious -man, and to drink a second glass of sherry quickly at no great interval -from the first was a surprise to his system which tended to scatter his -energies instead of collecting them. Pray pity him: so many English -gentlemen make themselves miserable by speechifying on entirely private -grounds! whereas Mr. Brooke wished to serve his country by standing for -Parliamentwhich, indeed, may also be done on private grounds, but -being once undertaken does absolutely demand some speechifying. - -It was not about the beginning of his speech that Mr. Brooke was at all -anxious; this, he felt sure, would be all right; he should have it -quite pat, cut out as neatly as a set of couplets from Pope. Embarking -would be easy, but the vision of open sea that might come after was -alarming. And questions, now, hinted the demon just waking up in his -stomach, somebody may put questions about the schedules.Ladislaw, he -continued, aloud, just hand me the memorandum of the schedules. - -When Mr. Brooke presented himself on the balcony, the cheers were quite -loud enough to counterbalance the yells, groans, brayings, and other -expressions of adverse theory, which were so moderate that Mr. Standish -(decidedly an old bird) observed in the ear next to him, This looks -dangerous, by God! Hawley has got some deeper plan than this. Still, -the cheers were exhilarating, and no candidate could look more amiable -than Mr. Brooke, with the memorandum in his breast-pocket, his left -hand on the rail of the balcony, and his right trifling with his -eye-glass. The striking points in his appearance were his buff -waistcoat, short-clipped blond hair, and neutral physiognomy. He began -with some confidence. - -GentlemenElectors of Middlemarch! - -This was so much the right thing that a little pause after it seemed -natural. - -Im uncommonly glad to be hereI was never so proud and happy in my -lifenever so happy, you know. - -This was a bold figure of speech, but not exactly the right thing; for, -unhappily, the pat opening had slipped awayeven couplets from Pope may -be but fallings from us, vanishings, when fear clutches us, and a -glass of sherry is hurrying like smoke among our ideas. Ladislaw, who -stood at the window behind the speaker, thought, its all up now. The -only chance is that, since the best thing wont always do, floundering -may answer for once. Mr. Brooke, meanwhile, having lost other clews, -fell back on himself and his qualificationsalways an appropriate -graceful subject for a candidate. - -I am a close neighbor of yours, my good friendsyouve known me on the -bench a good whileIve always gone a good deal into public -questionsmachinery, now, and machine-breakingyoure many of you -concerned with machinery, and Ive been going into that lately. It -wont do, you know, breaking machines: everything must go ontrade, -manufactures, commerce, interchange of staplesthat kind of thingsince -Adam Smith, that must go on. We must look all over the -globe:Observation with extensive view, must look everywhere, from -China to Peru, as somebody saysJohnson, I think, The Rambler, you -know. That is what I have done up to a certain pointnot as far as -Peru; but Ive not always stayed at homeI saw it wouldnt do. Ive -been in the Levant, where some of your Middlemarch goods goand then, -again, in the Baltic. The Baltic, now. - -Plying among his recollections in this way, Mr. Brooke might have got -along, easily to himself, and would have come back from the remotest -seas without trouble; but a diabolical procedure had been set up by the -enemy. At one and the same moment there had risen above the shoulders -of the crowd, nearly opposite Mr. Brooke, and within ten yards of him, -the effigy of himself: buff-colored waistcoat, eye-glass, and neutral -physiognomy, painted on rag; and there had arisen, apparently in the -air, like the note of the cuckoo, a parrot-like, Punch-voiced echo of -his words. Everybody looked up at the open windows in the houses at the -opposite angles of the converging streets; but they were either blank, -or filled by laughing listeners. The most innocent echo has an impish -mockery in it when it follows a gravely persistent speaker, and this -echo was not at all innocent; if it did not follow with the precision -of a natural echo, it had a wicked choice of the words it overtook. By -the time it said, The Baltic, now, the laugh which had been running -through the audience became a general shout, and but for the sobering -effects of party and that great public cause which the entanglement of -things had identified with Brooke of Tipton, the laugh might have -caught his committee. Mr. Bulstrode asked, reprehensively, what the new -police was doing; but a voice could not well be collared, and an attack -on the effigy of the candidate would have been too equivocal, since -Hawley probably meant it to be pelted. - -Mr. Brooke himself was not in a position to be quickly conscious of -anything except a general slipping away of ideas within himself: he had -even a little singing in the ears, and he was the only person who had -not yet taken distinct account of the echo or discerned the image of -himself. Few things hold the perceptions more thoroughly captive than -anxiety about what we have got to say. Mr. Brooke heard the laughter; -but he had expected some Tory efforts at disturbance, and he was at -this moment additionally excited by the tickling, stinging sense that -his lost exordium was coming back to fetch him from the Baltic. - -That reminds me, he went on, thrusting a hand into his side-pocket, -with an easy air, if I wanted a precedent, you knowbut we never want -a precedent for the right thingbut there is Chatham, now; I cant say -I should have supported Chatham, or Pitt, the younger Pitthe was not a -man of ideas, and we want ideas, you know. - -Blast your ideas! we want the Bill, said a loud rough voice from the -crowd below. - -Immediately the invisible Punch, who had hitherto followed Mr. Brooke, -repeated, Blast your ideas! we want the Bill. The laugh was louder -than ever, and for the first time Mr. Brooke being himself silent, -heard distinctly the mocking echo. But it seemed to ridicule his -interrupter, and in that light was encouraging; so he replied with -amenity - -There is something in what you say, my good friend, and what do we -meet for but to speak our mindsfreedom of opinion, freedom of the -press, libertythat kind of thing? The Bill, nowyou shall have the -Billhere Mr. Brooke paused a moment to fix on his eye-glass and take -the paper from his breast-pocket, with a sense of being practical and -coming to particulars. The invisible Punch followed: - -You shall have the Bill, Mr. Brooke, per electioneering contest, and a -seat outside Parliament as delivered, five thousand pounds, seven -shillings, and fourpence. - -Mr. Brooke, amid the roars of laughter, turned red, let his eye-glass -fall, and looking about him confusedly, saw the image of himself, which -had come nearer. The next moment he saw it dolorously bespattered with -eggs. His spirit rose a little, and his voice too. - -Buffoonery, tricks, ridicule the test of truthall that is very -wellhere an unpleasant egg broke on Mr. Brookes shoulder, as the -echo said, All that is very well; then came a hail of eggs, chiefly -aimed at the image, but occasionally hitting the original, as if by -chance. There was a stream of new men pushing among the crowd; -whistles, yells, bellowings, and fifes made all the greater hubbub -because there was shouting and struggling to put them down. No voice -would have had wing enough to rise above the uproar, and Mr. Brooke, -disagreeably anointed, stood his ground no longer. The frustration -would have been less exasperating if it had been less gamesome and -boyish: a serious assault of which the newspaper reporter can aver -that it endangered the learned gentlemans ribs, or can respectfully -bear witness to the soles of that gentlemans boots having been -visible above the railing, has perhaps more consolations attached to -it. - -Mr. Brooke re-entered the committee-room, saying, as carelessly as he -could, This is a little too bad, you know. I should have got the ear -of the people by-and-bybut they didnt give me time. I should have -gone into the Bill by-and-by, you know, he added, glancing at -Ladislaw. However, things will come all right at the nomination. - -But it was not resolved unanimously that things would come right; on -the contrary, the committee looked rather grim, and the political -personage from Brassing was writing busily, as if he were brewing new -devices. - -It was Bowyer who did it, said Mr. Standish, evasively. I know it as -well as if he had been advertised. Hes uncommonly good at -ventriloquism, and he did it uncommonly well, by God! Hawley has been -having him to dinner lately: theres a fund of talent in Bowyer. - -Well, you know, you never mentioned him to me, Standish, else I would -have invited him to dine, said poor Mr. Brooke, who had gone through a -great deal of inviting for the good of his country. - -Theres not a more paltry fellow in Middlemarch than Bowyer, said -Ladislaw, indignantly, but it seems as if the paltry fellows were -always to turn the scale. - -Will was thoroughly out of temper with himself as well as with his -principal, and he went to shut himself in his rooms with a -half-formed resolve to throw up the Pioneer and Mr. Brooke together. -Why should he stay? If the impassable gulf between himself and Dorothea -were ever to be filled up, it must rather be by his going away and -getting into a thoroughly different position than by staying here and -slipping into deserved contempt as an understrapper of Brookes. Then -came the young dream of wonders that he might doin five years, for -example: political writing, political speaking, would get a higher -value now public life was going to be wider and more national, and they -might give him such distinction that he would not seem to be asking -Dorothea to step down to him. Five years:if he could only be sure that -she cared for him more than for others; if he could only make her aware -that he stood aloof until he could tell his love without lowering -himselfthen he could go away easily, and begin a career which at -five-and-twenty seemed probable enough in the inward order of things, -where talent brings fame, and fame everything else which is delightful. -He could speak and he could write; he could master any subject if he -chose, and he meant always to take the side of reason and justice, on -which he would carry all his ardor. Why should he not one day be lifted -above the shoulders of the crowd, and feel that he had won that -eminence well? Without doubt he would leave Middlemarch, go to town, -and make himself fit for celebrity by eating his dinners. - -But not immediately: not until some kind of sign had passed between him -and Dorothea. He could not be satisfied until she knew why, even if he -were the man she would choose to marry, he would not marry her. Hence -he must keep his post and bear with Mr. Brooke a little longer. - -But he soon had reason to suspect that Mr. Brooke had anticipated him -in the wish to break up their connection. Deputations without and -voices within had concurred in inducing that philanthropist to take a -stronger measure than usual for the good of mankind; namely, to -withdraw in favor of another candidate, to whom he left the advantages -of his canvassing machinery. He himself called this a strong measure, -but observed that his health was less capable of sustaining excitement -than he had imagined. - -I have felt uneasy about the chestit wont do to carry that too far, -he said to Ladislaw in explaining the affair. I must pull up. Poor -Casaubon was a warning, you know. Ive made some heavy advances, but -Ive dug a channel. Its rather coarse workthis electioneering, eh, -Ladislaw? dare say you are tired of it. However, we have dug a channel -with the Pioneerput things in a track, and so on. A more ordinary -man than you might carry it on nowmore ordinary, you know. - -Do you wish me to give it up? said Will, the quick color coming in -his face, as he rose from the writing-table, and took a turn of three -steps with his hands in his pockets. I am ready to do so whenever you -wish it. - -As to wishing, my dear Ladislaw, I have the highest opinion of your -powers, you know. But about the Pioneer, I have been consulting a -little with some of the men on our side, and they are inclined to take -it into their handsindemnify me to a certain extentcarry it on, in -fact. And under the circumstances, you might like to give upmight find -a better field. These people might not take that high view of you which -I have always taken, as an alter ego, a right handthough I always -looked forward to your doing something else. I think of having a run -into France. But Ill write you any letters, you knowto Althorpe and -people of that kind. Ive met Althorpe. - -I am exceedingly obliged to you, said Ladislaw, proudly. Since you -are going to part with the Pioneer, I need not trouble you about the -steps I shall take. I may choose to continue here for the present. - -After Mr. Brooke had left him Will said to himself, The rest of the -family have been urging him to get rid of me, and he doesnt care now -about my going. I shall stay as long as I like. I shall go of my own -movements and not because they are afraid of me. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - -His heart -The lowliest duties on itself did lay. -WORDSWORTH. - - -On that June evening when Mr. Farebrother knew that he was to have the -Lowick living, there was joy in the old fashioned parlor, and even the -portraits of the great lawyers seemed to look on with satisfaction. His -mother left her tea and toast untouched, but sat with her usual pretty -primness, only showing her emotion by that flush in the cheeks and -brightness in the eyes which give an old woman a touching momentary -identity with her far-off youthful self, and saying decisively - -The greatest comfort, Camden, is that you have deserved it. - -When a man gets a good berth, mother, half the deserving must come -after, said the son, brimful of pleasure, and not trying to conceal -it. The gladness in his face was of that active kind which seems to -have energy enough not only to flash outwardly, but to light up busy -vision within: one seemed to see thoughts, as well as delight, in his -glances. - -Now, aunt, he went on, rubbing his hands and looking at Miss Noble, -who was making tender little beaver-like noises, There shall be -sugar-candy always on the table for you to steal and give to the -children, and you shall have a great many new stockings to make -presents of, and you shall darn your own more than ever! - -Miss Noble nodded at her nephew with a subdued half-frightened laugh, -conscious of having already dropped an additional lump of sugar into -her basket on the strength of the new preferment. - -As for you, Winnythe Vicar went onI shall make no difficulty about -your marrying any Lowick bachelorMr. Solomon Featherstone, for -example, as soon as I find you are in love with him. - -Miss Winifred, who had been looking at her brother all the while and -crying heartily, which was her way of rejoicing, smiled through her -tears and said, You must set me the example, Cam: _you_ must marry -now. - -With all my heart. But who is in love with me? I am a seedy old -fellow, said the Vicar, rising, pushing his chair away and looking -down at himself. What do you say, mother? - -You are a handsome man, Camden: though not so fine a figure of a man -as your father, said the old lady. - -I wish you would marry Miss Garth, brother, said Miss Winifred. She -would make us so lively at Lowick. - -Very fine! You talk as if young women were tied up to be chosen, like -poultry at market; as if I had only to ask and everybody would have -me, said the Vicar, not caring to specify. - -We dont want everybody, said Miss Winifred. But _you_ would like -Miss Garth, mother, shouldnt you? - -My sons choice shall be mine, said Mrs. Farebrother, with majestic -discretion, and a wife would be most welcome, Camden. You will want -your whist at home when we go to Lowick, and Henrietta Noble never was -a whist-player. (Mrs. Farebrother always called her tiny old sister by -that magnificent name.) - -I shall do without whist now, mother. - -Why so, Camden? In my time whist was thought an undeniable amusement -for a good churchman, said Mrs. Farebrother, innocent of the meaning -that whist had for her son, and speaking rather sharply, as at some -dangerous countenancing of new doctrine. - -I shall be too busy for whist; I shall have two parishes, said the -Vicar, preferring not to discuss the virtues of that game. - -He had already said to Dorothea, I dont feel bound to give up St. -Botolphs. It is protest enough against the pluralism they want to -reform if I give somebody else most of the money. The stronger thing is -not to give up power, but to use it well. - -I have thought of that, said Dorothea. So far as self is concerned, -I think it would be easier to give up power and money than to keep -them. It seems very unfitting that I should have this patronage, yet I -felt that I ought not to let it be used by some one else instead of -me. - -It is I who am bound to act so that you will not regret your power, -said Mr. Farebrother. - -His was one of the natures in which conscience gets the more active -when the yoke of life ceases to gall them. He made no display of -humility on the subject, but in his heart he felt rather ashamed that -his conduct had shown laches which others who did not get benefices -were free from. - -I used often to wish I had been something else than a clergyman, he -said to Lydgate, but perhaps it will be better to try and make as good -a clergyman out of myself as I can. That is the well-beneficed point of -view, you perceive, from which difficulties are much simplified, he -ended, smiling. - -The Vicar did feel then as if his share of duties would be easy. But -Duty has a trick of behaving unexpectedlysomething like a heavy friend -whom we have amiably asked to visit us, and who breaks his leg within -our gates. - -Hardly a week later, Duty presented itself in his study under the -disguise of Fred Vincy, now returned from Omnibus College with his -bachelors degree. - -I am ashamed to trouble you, Mr. Farebrother, said Fred, whose fair -open face was propitiating, but you are the only friend I can consult. -I told you everything once before, and you were so good that I cant -help coming to you again. - -Sit down, Fred, Im ready to hear and do anything I can, said the -Vicar, who was busy packing some small objects for removal, and went on -with his work. - -I wanted to tell you Fred hesitated an instant and then went on -plungingly, I might go into the Church now; and really, look where I -may, I cant see anything else to do. I dont like it, but I know its -uncommonly hard on my father to say so, after he has spent a good deal -of money in educating me for it. Fred paused again an instant, and -then repeated, and I cant see anything else to do. - -I did talk to your father about it, Fred, but I made little way with -him. He said it was too late. But you have got over one bridge now: -what are your other difficulties? - -Merely that I dont like it. I dont like divinity, and preaching, and -feeling obliged to look serious. I like riding across country, and -doing as other men do. I dont mean that I want to be a bad fellow in -any way; but Ive no taste for the sort of thing people expect of a -clergyman. And yet what else am I to do? My father cant spare me any -capital, else I might go into farming. And he has no room for me in his -trade. And of course I cant begin to study for law or physic now, when -my father wants me to earn something. Its all very well to say Im -wrong to go into the Church; but those who say so might as well tell me -to go into the backwoods. - -Freds voice had taken a tone of grumbling remonstrance, and Mr. -Farebrother might have been inclined to smile if his mind had not been -too busy in imagining more than Fred told him. - -Have you any difficulties about doctrinesabout the Articles? he -said, trying hard to think of the question simply for Freds sake. - -No; I suppose the Articles are right. I am not prepared with any -arguments to disprove them, and much better, cleverer fellows than I am -go in for them entirely. I think it would be rather ridiculous in me to -urge scruples of that sort, as if I were a judge, said Fred, quite -simply. - -I suppose, then, it has occurred to you that you might be a fair -parish priest without being much of a divine? - -Of course, if I am obliged to be a clergyman, I shall try and do my -duty, though I maynt like it. Do you think any body ought to blame -me? - -For going into the Church under the circumstances? That depends on -your conscience, Fredhow far you have counted the cost, and seen what -your position will require of you. I can only tell you about myself, -that I have always been too lax, and have been uneasy in consequence. - -But there is another hindrance, said Fred, coloring. I did not tell -you before, though perhaps I may have said things that made you guess -it. There is somebody I am very fond of: I have loved her ever since we -were children. - -Miss Garth, I suppose? said the Vicar, examining some labels very -closely. - -Yes. I shouldnt mind anything if she would have me. And I know I -could be a good fellow then. - -And you think she returns the feeling? - -She never will say so; and a good while ago she made me promise not to -speak to her about it again. And she has set her mind especially -against my being a clergyman; I know that. But I cant give her up. I -do think she cares about me. I saw Mrs. Garth last night, and she said -that Mary was staying at Lowick Rectory with Miss Farebrother. - -Yes, she is very kindly helping my sister. Do you wish to go there? - -No, I want to ask a great favor of you. I am ashamed to bother you in -this way; but Mary might listen to what you said, if you mentioned the -subject to herI mean about my going into the Church. - -That is rather a delicate task, my dear Fred. I shall have to -presuppose your attachment to her; and to enter on the subject as you -wish me to do, will be asking her to tell me whether she returns it. - -That is what I want her to tell you, said Fred, bluntly. I dont -know what to do, unless I can get at her feeling. - -You mean that you would be guided by that as to your going into the -Church? - -If Mary said she would never have me I might as well go wrong in one -way as another. - -That is nonsense, Fred. Men outlive their love, but they dont outlive -the consequences of their recklessness. - -Not my sort of love: I have never been without loving Mary. If I had -to give her up, it would be like beginning to live on wooden legs. - -Will she not be hurt at my intrusion? - -No, I feel sure she will not. She respects you more than any one, and -she would not put you off with fun as she does me. Of course I could -not have told any one else, or asked any one else to speak to her, but -you. There is no one else who could be such a friend to both of us. -Fred paused a moment, and then said, rather complainingly, And she -ought to acknowledge that I have worked in order to pass. She ought to -believe that I would exert myself for her sake. - -There was a moments silence before Mr. Farebrother laid down his work, -and putting out his hand to Fred said - -Very well, my boy. I will do what you wish. - -That very day Mr. Farebrother went to Lowick parsonage on the nag which -he had just set up. Decidedly I am an old stalk, he thought, the -young growths are pushing me aside. - -He found Mary in the garden gathering roses and sprinkling the petals -on a sheet. The sun was low, and tall trees sent their shadows across -the grassy walks where Mary was moving without bonnet or parasol. She -did not observe Mr. Farebrothers approach along the grass, and had -just stooped down to lecture a small black-and-tan terrier, which would -persist in walking on the sheet and smelling at the rose-leaves as Mary -sprinkled them. She took his fore-paws in one hand, and lifted up the -forefinger of the other, while the dog wrinkled his brows and looked -embarrassed. Fly, Fly, I am ashamed of you, Mary was saying in a -grave contralto. This is not becoming in a sensible dog; anybody would -think you were a silly young gentleman. - -You are unmerciful to young gentlemen, Miss Garth, said the Vicar, -within two yards of her. - -Mary started up and blushed. It always answers to reason with Fly, -she said, laughingly. - -But not with young gentlemen? - -Oh, with some, I suppose; since some of them turn into excellent men. - -I am glad of that admission, because I want at this very moment to -interest you in a young gentleman. - -Not a silly one, I hope, said Mary, beginning to pluck the roses -again, and feeling her heart beat uncomfortably. - -No; though perhaps wisdom is not his strong point, but rather -affection and sincerity. However, wisdom lies more in those two -qualities than people are apt to imagine. I hope you know by those -marks what young gentleman I mean. - -Yes, I think I do, said Mary, bravely, her face getting more serious, -and her hands cold; it must be Fred Vincy. - -He has asked me to consult you about his going into the Church. I hope -you will not think that I consented to take a liberty in promising to -do so. - -On the contrary, Mr. Farebrother, said Mary, giving up the roses, and -folding her arms, but unable to look up, whenever you have anything to -say to me I feel honored. - -But before I enter on that question, let me just touch a point on -which your father took me into confidence; by the way, it was that very -evening on which I once before fulfilled a mission from Fred, just -after he had gone to college. Mr. Garth told me what happened on the -night of Featherstones deathhow you refused to burn the will; and he -said that you had some heart-prickings on that subject, because you had -been the innocent means of hindering Fred from getting his ten thousand -pounds. I have kept that in mind, and I have heard something that may -relieve you on that scoremay show you that no sin-offering is demanded -from you there. - -Mr. Farebrother paused a moment and looked at Mary. He meant to give -Fred his full advantage, but it would be well, he thought, to clear her -mind of any superstitions, such as women sometimes follow when they do -a man the wrong of marrying him as an act of atonement. Marys cheeks -had begun to burn a little, and she was mute. - -I mean, that your action made no real difference to Freds lot. I find -that the first will would not have been legally good after the burning -of the last; it would not have stood if it had been disputed, and you -may be sure it would have been disputed. So, on that score, you may -feel your mind free. - -Thank you, Mr. Farebrother, said Mary, earnestly. I am grateful to -you for remembering my feelings. - -Well, now I may go on. Fred, you know, has taken his degree. He has -worked his way so far, and now the question is, what is he to do? That -question is so difficult that he is inclined to follow his fathers -wishes and enter the Church, though you know better than I do that he -was quite set against that formerly. I have questioned him on the -subject, and I confess I see no insuperable objection to his being a -clergyman, as things go. He says that he could turn his mind to doing -his best in that vocation, on one condition. If that condition were -fulfilled I would do my utmost in helping Fred on. After a timenot, of -course, at firsthe might be with me as my curate, and he would have so -much to do that his stipend would be nearly what I used to get as -vicar. But I repeat that there is a condition without which all this -good cannot come to pass. He has opened his heart to me, Miss Garth, -and asked me to plead for him. The condition lies entirely in your -feeling. - -Mary looked so much moved, that he said after a moment, Let us walk a -little; and when they were walking he added, To speak quite plainly, -Fred will not take any course which would lessen the chance that you -would consent to be his wife; but with that prospect, he will try his -best at anything you approve. - -I cannot possibly say that I will ever be his wife, Mr. Farebrother: -but I certainly never will be his wife if he becomes a clergyman. What -you say is most generous and kind; I dont mean for a moment to correct -your judgment. It is only that I have my girlish, mocking way of -looking at things, said Mary, with a returning sparkle of playfulness -in her answer which only made its modesty more charming. - -He wishes me to report exactly what you think, said Mr. Farebrother. - -I could not love a man who is ridiculous, said Mary, not choosing to -go deeper. Fred has sense and knowledge enough to make him -respectable, if he likes, in some good worldly business, but I can -never imagine him preaching and exhorting, and pronouncing blessings, -and praying by the sick, without feeling as if I were looking at a -caricature. His being a clergyman would be only for gentilitys sake, -and I think there is nothing more contemptible than such imbecile -gentility. I used to think that of Mr. Crowse, with his empty face and -neat umbrella, and mincing little speeches. What right have such men to -represent Christianityas if it were an institution for getting up -idiots genteellyas if Mary checked herself. She had been carried -along as if she had been speaking to Fred instead of Mr. Farebrother. - -Young women are severe: they dont feel the stress of action as men -do, though perhaps I ought to make you an exception there. But you -dont put Fred Vincy on so low a level as that? - -No, indeed, he has plenty of sense, but I think he would not show it -as a clergyman. He would be a piece of professional affectation. - -Then the answer is quite decided. As a clergyman he could have no -hope? - -Mary shook her head. - -But if he braved all the difficulties of getting his bread in some -other waywill you give him the support of hope? May he count on -winning you? - -I think Fred ought not to need telling again what I have already said -to him, Mary answered, with a slight resentment in her manner. I mean -that he ought not to put such questions until he has done something -worthy, instead of saying that he could do it. - -Mr. Farebrother was silent for a minute or more, and then, as they -turned and paused under the shadow of a maple at the end of a grassy -walk, said, I understand that you resist any attempt to fetter you, -but either your feeling for Fred Vincy excludes your entertaining -another attachment, or it does not: either he may count on your -remaining single until he shall have earned your hand, or he may in any -case be disappointed. Pardon me, Maryyou know I used to catechise you -under that namebut when the state of a womans affections touches the -happiness of another lifeof more lives than oneI think it would be -the nobler course for her to be perfectly direct and open. - -Mary in her turn was silent, wondering not at Mr. Farebrothers manner -but at his tone, which had a grave restrained emotion in it. When the -strange idea flashed across her that his words had reference to -himself, she was incredulous, and ashamed of entertaining it. She had -never thought that any man could love her except Fred, who had espoused -her with the umbrella ring, when she wore socks and little strapped -shoes; still less that she could be of any importance to Mr. -Farebrother, the cleverest man in her narrow circle. She had only time -to feel that all this was hazy and perhaps illusory; but one thing was -clear and determinedher answer. - -Since you think it my duty, Mr. Farebrother, I will tell you that I -have too strong a feeling for Fred to give him up for any one else. I -should never be quite happy if I thought he was unhappy for the loss of -me. It has taken such deep root in memy gratitude to him for always -loving me best, and minding so much if I hurt myself, from the time -when we were very little. I cannot imagine any new feeling coming to -make that weaker. I should like better than anything to see him worthy -of every ones respect. But please tell him I will not promise to marry -him till then: I should shame and grieve my father and mother. He is -free to choose some one else. - -Then I have fulfilled my commission thoroughly, said Mr. Farebrother, -putting out his hand to Mary, and I shall ride back to Middlemarch -forthwith. With this prospect before him, we shall get Fred into the -right niche somehow, and I hope I shall live to join your hands. God -bless you! - -Oh, please stay, and let me give you some tea, said Mary. Her eyes -filled with tears, for something indefinable, something like the -resolute suppression of a pain in Mr. Farebrothers manner, made her -feel suddenly miserable, as she had once felt when she saw her fathers -hands trembling in a moment of trouble. - -No, my dear, no. I must get back. - -In three minutes the Vicar was on horseback again, having gone -magnanimously through a duty much harder than the renunciation of -whist, or even than the writing of penitential meditations. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. - -It is but a shallow haste which concludeth insincerity from what -outsiders call inconsistencyputting a dead mechanism of ifs and -therefores for the living myriad of hidden suckers whereby the belief -and the conduct are wrought into mutual sustainment. - - -Mr. Bulstrode, when he was hoping to acquire a new interest in Lowick, -had naturally had an especial wish that the new clergyman should be one -whom he thoroughly approved; and he believed it to be a chastisement -and admonition directed to his own shortcomings and those of the nation -at large, that just about the time when he came in possession of the -deeds which made him the proprietor of Stone Court, Mr. Farebrother -read himself into the quaint little church and preached his first -sermon to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and village artisans. -It was not that Mr. Bulstrode intended to frequent Lowick Church or to -reside at Stone Court for a good while to come: he had bought the -excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a retreat which he might -gradually enlarge as to the land and beautify as to the dwelling, until -it should be conducive to the divine glory that he should enter on it -as a residence, partially withdrawing from his present exertions in the -administration of business, and throwing more conspicuously on the side -of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which -Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. A strong -leading in this direction seemed to have been given in the surprising -facility of getting Stone Court, when every one had expected that Mr. -Rigg Featherstone would have clung to it as the Garden of Eden. That -was what poor old Peter himself had expected; having often, in -imagination, looked up through the sods above him, and, unobstructed by -perspective, seen his frog-faced legatee enjoying the fine old place to -the perpetual surprise and disappointment of other survivors. - -But how little we know what would make paradise for our neighbors! We -judge from our own desires, and our neighbors themselves are not always -open enough even to throw out a hint of theirs. The cool and judicious -Joshua Rigg had not allowed his parent to perceive that Stone Court was -anything less than the chief good in his estimation, and he had -certainly wished to call it his own. But as Warren Hastings looked at -gold and thought of buying Daylesford, so Joshua Rigg looked at Stone -Court and thought of buying gold. He had a very distinct and intense -vision of his chief good, the vigorous greed which he had inherited -having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and his chief good -was to be a moneychanger. From his earliest employment as an errand-boy -in a seaport, he had looked through the windows of the moneychangers as -other boys look through the windows of the pastry-cooks; the -fascination had wrought itself gradually into a deep special passion; -he meant, when he had property, to do many things, one of them being to -marry a genteel young person; but these were all accidents and joys -that imagination could dispense with. The one joy after which his soul -thirsted was to have a money-changers shop on a much-frequented quay, -to have locks all round him of which he held the keys, and to look -sublimely cool as he handled the breeding coins of all nations, while -helpless Cupidity looked at him enviously from the other side of an -iron lattice. The strength of that passion had been a power enabling -him to master all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. And when -others were thinking that he had settled at Stone Court for life, -Joshua himself was thinking that the moment now was not far off when he -should settle on the North Quay with the best appointments in safes and -locks. - -Enough. We are concerned with looking at Joshua Riggs sale of his land -from Mr. Bulstrodes point of view, and he interpreted it as a cheering -dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a purpose which he had for -some time entertained without external encouragement; he interpreted it -thus, but not too confidently, offering up his thanksgiving in guarded -phraseology. His doubts did not arise from the possible relations of -the event to Joshua Riggs destiny, which belonged to the unmapped -regions not taken under the providential government, except perhaps in -an imperfect colonial way; but they arose from reflecting that this -dispensation too might be a chastisement for himself, as Mr. -Farebrothers induction to the living clearly was. - -This was not what Mr. Bulstrode said to any man for the sake of -deceiving him: it was what he said to himselfit was as genuinely his -mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be, if you happen -to disagree with him. For the egoism which enters into our theories -does not affect their sincerity; rather, the more our egoism is -satisfied, the more robust is our belief. - -However, whether for sanction or for chastisement, Mr. Bulstrode, -hardly fifteen months after the death of Peter Featherstone, had become -the proprietor of Stone Court, and what Peter would say if he were -worthy to know, had become an inexhaustible and consolatory subject of -conversation to his disappointed relatives. The tables were now turned -on that dear brother departed, and to contemplate the frustration of -his cunning by the superior cunning of things in general was a cud of -delight to Solomon. Mrs. Waule had a melancholy triumph in the proof -that it did not answer to make false Featherstones and cut off the -genuine; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the Chalky Flats said, -Dear, dear! then the Almighty could have been none so pleased with the -almshouses after all. - -Affectionate Mrs. Bulstrode was particularly glad of the advantage -which her husbands health was likely to get from the purchase of Stone -Court. Few days passed without his riding thither and looking over some -part of the farm with the bailiff, and the evenings were delicious in -that quiet spot, when the new hay-ricks lately set up were sending -forth odors to mingle with the breath of the rich old garden. One -evening, while the sun was still above the horizon and burning in -golden lamps among the great walnut boughs, Mr. Bulstrode was pausing -on horseback outside the front gate waiting for Caleb Garth, who had -met him by appointment to give an opinion on a question of stable -drainage, and was now advising the bailiff in the rick-yard. - -Mr. Bulstrode was conscious of being in a good spiritual frame and more -than usually serene, under the influence of his innocent recreation. He -was doctrinally convinced that there was a total absence of merit in -himself; but that doctrinal conviction may be held without pain when -the sense of demerit does not take a distinct shape in memory and -revive the tingling of shame or the pang of remorse. Nay, it may be -held with intense satisfaction when the depth of our sinning is but a -measure for the depth of forgiveness, and a clenching proof that we are -peculiar instruments of the divine intention. The memory has as many -moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama. At this -moment Mr. Bulstrode felt as if the sunshine were all one with that of -far-off evenings when he was a very young man and used to go out -preaching beyond Highbury. And he would willingly have had that service -of exhortation in prospect now. The texts were there still, and so was -his own facility in expounding them. His brief reverie was interrupted -by the return of Caleb Garth, who also was on horseback, and was just -shaking his bridle before starting, when he exclaimed - -Bless my heart! whats this fellow in black coming along the lane? -Hes like one of those men one sees about after the races. - -Mr. Bulstrode turned his horse and looked along the lane, but made no -reply. The comer was our slight acquaintance Mr. Raffles, whose -appearance presented no other change than such as was due to a suit of -black and a crape hat-band. He was within three yards of the horseman -now, and they could see the flash of recognition in his face as he -whirled his stick upward, looking all the while at Mr. Bulstrode, and -at last exclaiming: - -By Jove, Nick, its you! I couldnt be mistaken, though the -five-and-twenty years have played old Boguy with us both! How are you, -eh? you didnt expect to see _me_ here. Come, shake us by the hand. To -say that Mr. Raffles manner was rather excited would be only one mode -of saying that it was evening. Caleb Garth could see that there was a -moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode, but it ended in his -putting out his hand coldly to Raffles and saying - -I did not indeed expect to see you in this remote country place. - -Well, it belongs to a stepson of mine, said Raffles, adjusting -himself in a swaggering attitude. I came to see him here before. Im -not so surprised at seeing you, old fellow, because I picked up a -letterwhat you may call a providential thing. Its uncommonly -fortunate I met you, though; for I dont care about seeing my stepson: -hes not affectionate, and his poor mothers gone now. To tell the -truth, I came out of love to you, Nick: I came to get your address, -forlook here! Raffles drew a crumpled paper from his pocket. - -Almost any other man than Caleb Garth might have been tempted to linger -on the spot for the sake of hearing all he could about a man whose -acquaintance with Bulstrode seemed to imply passages in the bankers -life so unlike anything that was known of him in Middlemarch that they -must have the nature of a secret to pique curiosity. But Caleb was -peculiar: certain human tendencies which are commonly strong were -almost absent from his mind; and one of these was curiosity about -personal affairs. Especially if there was anything discreditable to be -found out concerning another man, Caleb preferred not to know it; and -if he had to tell anybody under him that his evil doings were -discovered, he was more embarrassed than the culprit. He now spurred -his horse, and saying, I wish you good evening, Mr. Bulstrode; I must -be getting home, set off at a trot. - -You didnt put your full address to this letter, Raffles continued. -That was not like the first-rate man of business you used to be. The -Shrubs,they may be anywhere: you live near at hand, eh?have cut the -London concern altogetherperhaps turned country squirehave a rural -mansion to invite me to. Lord, how many years it is ago! The old lady -must have been dead a pretty long whilegone to glory without the pain -of knowing how poor her daughter was, eh? But, by Jove! youre very -pale and pasty, Nick. Come, if youre going home, Ill walk by your -side. - -Mr. Bulstrodes usual paleness had in fact taken an almost deathly hue. -Five minutes before, the expanse of his life had been submerged in its -evening sunshine which shone backward to its remembered morning: sin -seemed to be a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation -an exercise of the closet, the bearing of his deeds a matter of private -vision adjusted solely by spiritual relations and conceptions of the -divine purposes. And now, as if by some hideous magic, this loud red -figure had risen before him in unmanageable solidityan incorporate -past which had not entered into his imagination of chastisements. But -Mr. Bulstrodes thought was busy, and he was not a man to act or speak -rashly. - -I was going home, he said, but I can defer my ride a little. And you -can, if you please, rest here. - -Thank you, said Raffles, making a grimace. I dont care now about -seeing my stepson. Id rather go home with you. - -Your stepson, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he, is here no longer. I am -master here now. - -Raffles opened wide eyes, and gave a long whistle of surprise, before -he said, Well then, Ive no objection. Ive had enough walking from -the coach-road. I never was much of a walker, or rider either. What I -like is a smart vehicle and a spirited cob. I was always a little heavy -in the saddle. What a pleasant surprise it must be to you to see me, -old fellow! he continued, as they turned towards the house. You dont -say so; but you never took your luck heartilyyou were always thinking -of improving the occasionyoud such a gift for improving your luck. - -Mr. Raffles seemed greatly to enjoy his own wit, and swung his leg in a -swaggering manner which was rather too much for his companions -judicious patience. - -If I remember rightly, Mr. Bulstrode observed, with chill anger, our -acquaintance many years ago had not the sort of intimacy which you are -now assuming, Mr. Raffles. Any services you desire of me will be the -more readily rendered if you will avoid a tone of familiarity which did -not lie in our former intercourse, and can hardly be warranted by more -than twenty years of separation. - -You dont like being called Nick? Why, I always called you Nick in my -heart, and though lost to sight, to memory dear. By Jove! my feelings -have ripened for you like fine old cognac. I hope youve got some in -the house now. Josh filled my flask well the last time. - -Mr. Bulstrode had not yet fully learned that even the desire for cognac -was not stronger in Raffles than the desire to torment, and that a hint -of annoyance always served him as a fresh cue. But it was at least -clear that further objection was useless, and Mr. Bulstrode, in giving -orders to the housekeeper for the accommodation of the guest, had a -resolute air of quietude. - -There was the comfort of thinking that this housekeeper had been in the -service of Rigg also, and might accept the idea that Mr. Bulstrode -entertained Raffles merely as a friend of her former master. - -When there was food and drink spread before his visitor in the -wainscoted parlor, and no witness in the room, Mr. Bulstrode said - -Your habits and mine are so different, Mr. Raffles, that we can hardly -enjoy each others society. The wisest plan for both of us will -therefore be to part as soon as possible. Since you say that you wished -to meet me, you probably considered that you had some business to -transact with me. But under the circumstances I will invite you to -remain here for the night, and I will myself ride over here early -to-morrow morningbefore breakfast, in factwhen I can receive any -communication you have to make to me. - -With all my heart, said Raffles; this is a comfortable placea -little dull for a continuance; but I can put up with it for a night, -with this good liquor and the prospect of seeing you again in the -morning. Youre a much better host than my stepson was; but Josh owed -me a bit of a grudge for marrying his mother; and between you and me -there was never anything but kindness. - -Mr. Bulstrode, hoping that the peculiar mixture of joviality and -sneering in Raffles manner was a good deal the effect of drink, had -determined to wait till he was quite sober before he spent more words -upon him. But he rode home with a terribly lucid vision of the -difficulty there would be in arranging any result that could be -permanently counted on with this man. It was inevitable that he should -wish to get rid of John Raffles, though his reappearance could not be -regarded as lying outside the divine plan. The spirit of evil might -have sent him to threaten Mr. Bulstrodes subversion as an instrument -of good; but the threat must have been permitted, and was a -chastisement of a new kind. It was an hour of anguish for him very -different from the hours in which his struggle had been securely -private, and which had ended with a sense that his secret misdeeds were -pardoned and his services accepted. Those misdeeds even when -committedhad they not been half sanctified by the singleness of his -desire to devote himself and all he possessed to the furtherance of the -divine scheme? And was he after all to become a mere stone of stumbling -and a rock of offence? For who would understand the work within him? -Who would not, when there was the pretext of casting disgrace upon him, -confound his whole life and the truths he had espoused, in one heap of -obloquy? - -In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Bulstrodes mind -clad his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to superhuman -ends. But even while we are talking and meditating about the earths -orbit and the solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is -the stable earth and the changing day. And now within all the automatic -succession of theoretic phrasesdistinct and inmost as the shiver and -the ache of oncoming fever when we are discussing abstract pain, was -the forecast of disgrace in the presence of his neighbors and of his -own wife. For the pain, as well as the public estimate of disgrace, -depends on the amount of previous profession. To men who only aim at -escaping felony, nothing short of the prisoners dock is disgrace. But -Mr. Bulstrode had aimed at being an eminent Christian. - -It was not more than half-past seven in the morning when he again -reached Stone Court. The fine old place never looked more like a -delightful home than at that moment; the great white lilies were in -flower, the nasturtiums, their pretty leaves all silvered with dew, -were running away over the low stone wall; the very noises all around -had a heart of peace within them. But everything was spoiled for the -owner as he walked on the gravel in front and awaited the descent of -Mr. Raffles, with whom he was condemned to breakfast. - -It was not long before they were seated together in the wainscoted -parlor over their tea and toast, which was as much as Raffles cared to -take at that early hour. The difference between his morning and evening -self was not so great as his companion had imagined that it might be; -the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the stronger because his -spirits were rather less highly pitched. Certainly his manners seemed -more disagreeable by the morning light. - -As I have little time to spare, Mr. Raffles, said the banker, who -could hardly do more than sip his tea and break his toast without -eating it, I shall be obliged if you will mention at once the ground -on which you wished to meet with me. I presume that you have a home -elsewhere and will be glad to return to it. - -Why, if a man has got any heart, doesnt he want to see an old friend, -Nick?I must call you Nickwe always did call you young Nick when we -knew you meant to marry the old widow. Some said you had a handsome -family likeness to old Nick, but that was your mothers fault, calling -you Nicholas. Arent you glad to see me again? I expected an invite to -stay with you at some pretty place. My own establishment is broken up -now my wifes dead. Ive no particular attachment to any spot; I would -as soon settle hereabout as anywhere. - -May I ask why you returned from America? I considered that the strong -wish you expressed to go there, when an adequate sum was furnished, was -tantamount to an engagement that you would remain there for life. - -Never knew that a wish to go to a place was the same thing as a wish -to stay. But I did stay a matter of ten years; it didnt suit me to -stay any longer. And Im not going again, Nick. Here Mr. Raffles -winked slowly as he looked at Mr. Bulstrode. - -Do you wish to be settled in any business? What is your calling now? - -Thank you, my calling is to enjoy myself as much as I can. I dont -care about working any more. If I did anything it would be a little -travelling in the tobacco lineor something of that sort, which takes a -man into agreeable company. But not without an independence to fall -back upon. Thats what I want: Im not so strong as I was, Nick, though -Ive got more color than you. I want an independence. - -That could be supplied to you, if you would engage to keep at a -distance, said Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a little too much eagerness -in his undertone. - -That must be as it suits my convenience, said Raffles coolly. I see -no reason why I shouldnt make a few acquaintances hereabout. Im not -ashamed of myself as company for anybody. I dropped my portmanteau at -the turnpike when I got downchange of linengenuinehonor brightmore -than fronts and wristbands; and with this suit of mourning, straps and -everything, I should do you credit among the nobs here. Mr. Raffles -had pushed away his chair and looked down at himself, particularly at -his straps. His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode, but he really -thought that his appearance now would produce a good effect, and that -he was not only handsome and witty, but clad in a mourning style which -implied solid connections. - -If you intend to rely on me in any way, Mr. Raffles, said Bulstrode, -after a moments pause, you will expect to meet my wishes. - -Ah, to be sure, said Raffles, with a mocking cordiality. Didnt I -always do it? Lord, you made a pretty thing out of me, and I got but -little. Ive often thought since, I might have done better by telling -the old woman that Id found her daughter and her grandchild: it would -have suited my feelings better; Ive got a soft place in my heart. But -youve buried the old lady by this time, I supposeits all one to her -now. And youve got your fortune out of that profitable business which -had such a blessing on it. Youve taken to being a nob, buying land, -being a country bashaw. Still in the Dissenting line, eh? Still godly? -Or taken to the Church as more genteel? - -This time Mr. Raffles slow wink and slight protrusion of his tongue -was worse than a nightmare, because it held the certitude that it was -not a nightmare, but a waking misery. Mr. Bulstrode felt a shuddering -nausea, and did not speak, but was considering diligently whether he -should not leave Raffles to do as he would, and simply defy him as a -slanderer. The man would soon show himself disreputable enough to make -people disbelieve him. But not when he tells any ugly-looking truth -about _you_, said discerning consciousness. And again: it seemed no -wrong to keep Raffles at a distance, but Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the -direct falsehood of denying true statements. It was one thing to look -back on forgiven sins, nay, to explain questionable conformity to lax -customs, and another to enter deliberately on the necessity of -falsehood. - -But since Bulstrode did not speak, Raffles ran on, by way of using time -to the utmost. - -Ive not had such fine luck as you, by Jove! Things went confoundedly -with me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and a man of -gentlemanly feelings has no chance with them. I married when I came -backa nice woman in the tobacco tradevery fond of mebut the trade -was restricted, as we say. She had been settled there a good many years -by a friend; but there was a son too much in the case. Josh and I never -hit it off. However, I made the most of the position, and Ive always -taken my glass in good company. Its been all on the square with me; -Im as open as the day. You wont take it ill of me that I didnt look -you up before. Ive got a complaint that makes me a little dilatory. I -thought you were trading and praying away in London still, and didnt -find you there. But you see I was sent to you, Nickperhaps for a -blessing to both of us. - -Mr. Raffles ended with a jocose snuffle: no man felt his intellect more -superior to religious cant. And if the cunning which calculates on the -meanest feelings in men could be called intellect, he had his share, -for under the blurting rallying tone with which he spoke to Bulstrode, -there was an evident selection of statements, as if they had been so -many moves at chess. Meanwhile Bulstrode had determined on his move, -and he said, with gathered resolution - -You will do well to reflect, Mr. Raffles, that it is possible for a -man to overreach himself in the effort to secure undue advantage. -Although I am not in any way bound to you, I am willing to supply you -with a regular annuityin quarterly paymentsso long as you fulfil a -promise to remain at a distance from this neighborhood. It is in your -power to choose. If you insist on remaining here, even for a short -time, you will get nothing from me. I shall decline to know you. - -Ha, ha! said Raffles, with an affected explosion, that reminds me of -a droll dog of a thief who declined to know the constable. - -Your allusions are lost on me sir, said Bulstrode, with white heat; -the law has no hold on me either through your agency or any other. - -You cant understand a joke, my good fellow. I only meant that I -should never decline to know you. But let us be serious. Your quarterly -payment wont quite suit me. I like my freedom. - -Here Raffles rose and stalked once or twice up and down the room, -swinging his leg, and assuming an air of masterly meditation. At last -he stopped opposite Bulstrode, and said, Ill tell you what! Give us a -couple of hundredscome, thats modestand Ill go awayhonor -bright!pick up my portmanteau and go away. But I shall not give up my -liberty for a dirty annuity. I shall come and go where I like. Perhaps -it may suit me to stay away, and correspond with a friend; perhaps not. -Have you the money with you? - -No, I have one hundred, said Bulstrode, feeling the immediate -riddance too great a relief to be rejected on the ground of future -uncertainties. I will forward you the other if you will mention an -address. - -No, Ill wait here till you bring it, said Raffles. Ill take a -stroll and have a snack, and youll be back by that time. - -Mr. Bulstrodes sickly body, shattered by the agitations he had gone -through since the last evening, made him feel abjectly in the power of -this loud invulnerable man. At that moment he snatched at a temporary -repose to be won on any terms. He was rising to do what Raffles -suggested, when the latter said, lifting up his finger as if with a -sudden recollection - -I did have another look after Sarah again, though I didnt tell you; -Id a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. I didnt find -her, but I found out her husbands name, and I made a note of it. But -hang it, I lost my pocketbook. However, if I heard it, I should know it -again. Ive got my faculties as if I was in my prime, but names wear -out, by Jove! Sometimes Im no better than a confounded tax-paper -before the names are filled in. However, if I hear of her and her -family, you shall know, Nick. Youd like to do something for her, now -shes your step-daughter. - -Doubtless, said Mr. Bulstrode, with the usual steady look of his -light-gray eyes; though that might reduce my power of assisting you. - -As he walked out of the room, Raffles winked slowly at his back, and -then turned towards the window to watch the banker riding -awayvirtually at his command. His lips first curled with a smile and -then opened with a short triumphant laugh. - -But what the deuce was the name? he presently said, half aloud, -scratching his head, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. He had not -really cared or thought about this point of forgetfulness until it -occurred to him in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. - -It began with L; it was almost all ls I fancy, he went on, with a -sense that he was getting hold of the slippery name. But the hold was -too slight, and he soon got tired of this mental chase; for few men -were more impatient of private occupation or more in need of making -themselves continually heard than Mr. Raffles. He preferred using his -time in pleasant conversation with the bailiff and the housekeeper, -from whom he gathered as much as he wanted to know about Mr. -Bulstrodes position in Middlemarch. - -After all, however, there was a dull space of time which needed -relieving with bread and cheese and ale, and when he was seated alone -with these resources in the wainscoted parlor, he suddenly slapped his -knee, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! That action of memory which he had -tried to set going, and had abandoned in despair, had suddenly -completed itself without conscious efforta common experience, -agreeable as a completed sneeze, even if the name remembered is of no -value. Raffles immediately took out his pocket-book, and wrote down the -name, not because he expected to use it, but merely for the sake of not -being at a loss if he ever did happen to want it. He was not going to -tell Bulstrode: there was no actual good in telling, and to a mind like -that of Mr. Raffles there is always probable good in a secret. - -He was satisfied with his present success, and by three oclock that -day he had taken up his portmanteau at the turnpike and mounted the -coach, relieving Mr. Bulstrodes eyes of an ugly black spot on the -landscape at Stone Court, but not relieving him of the dread that the -black spot might reappear and become inseparable even from the vision -of his hearth. - - - - -BOOK VI. -THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - -Negli occhi porta la mia donna Amore; -Per che si fa gentil ci chella mira: -Ovella passa, ogni uom ver lei si gira, -E cui saluta fa tremar lo core. - -Sicch, bassando il viso, tutto smore, -E dogni suo difetto allor sospira: -Fuggon dinanzi a lei Superbia ed Ira: -Aiutatemi, donne, a farle onore. - -Ogni dolcezza, ogni pensiero umile -Nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente; -Ond beato chi prima la vide. -Quel chella par quand un poco sorride, -Non si pu dicer, n tener a mente, -Si nuovo miracolo gentile. -DANTE: _La Vita Nuova_. - - -By that delightful morning when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were -scenting the air quite impartially, as if Mr. Raffles had been a guest -worthy of finest incense, Dorothea had again taken up her abode at -Lowick Manor. After three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: -to sit like a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celias -baby would not do for many hours in the day, and to remain in that -momentous babes presence with persistent disregard was a course that -could not have been tolerated in a childless sister. Dorothea would -have been capable of carrying baby joyfully for a mile if there had -been need, and of loving it the more tenderly for that labor; but to an -aunt who does not recognize her infant nephew as Bouddha, and has -nothing to do for him but to admire, his behavior is apt to appear -monotonous, and the interest of watching him exhaustible. This -possibility was quite hidden from Celia, who felt that Dorotheas -childless widowhood fell in quite prettily with the birth of little -Arthur (baby was named after Mr. Brooke). - -Dodo is just the creature not to mind about having anything of her -ownchildren or anything! said Celia to her husband. And if she had -had a baby, it never could have been such a dear as Arthur. Could it, -James? - -Not if it had been like Casaubon, said Sir James, conscious of some -indirectness in his answer, and of holding a strictly private opinion -as to the perfections of his first-born. - -No! just imagine! Really it was a mercy, said Celia; and I think it -is very nice for Dodo to be a widow. She can be just as fond of our -baby as if it were her own, and she can have as many notions of her own -as she likes. - -It is a pity she was not a queen, said the devout Sir James. - -But what should we have been then? We must have been something else, -said Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination. I like -her better as she is. - -Hence, when she found that Dorothea was making arrangements for her -final departure to Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with -disappointment, and in her quiet unemphatic way shot a needle-arrow of -sarcasm. - -What will you do at Lowick, Dodo? You say yourself there is nothing to -be done there: everybody is so clean and well off, it makes you quite -melancholy. And here you have been so happy going all about Tipton with -Mr. Garth into the worst backyards. And now uncle is abroad, you and -Mr. Garth can have it all your own way; and I am sure James does -everything you tell him. - -I shall often come here, and I shall see how baby grows all the -better, said Dorothea. - -But you will never see him washed, said Celia; and that is quite the -best part of the day. She was almost pouting: it did seem to her very -hard in Dodo to go away from the baby when she might stay. - -Dear Kitty, I will come and stay all night on purpose, said Dorothea; -but I want to be alone now, and in my own home. I wish to know the -Farebrothers better, and to talk to Mr. Farebrother about what there is -to be done in Middlemarch. - -Dorotheas native strength of will was no longer all converted into -resolute submission. She had a great yearning to be at Lowick, and was -simply determined to go, not feeling bound to tell all her reasons. But -every one around her disapproved. Sir James was much pained, and -offered that they should all migrate to Cheltenham for a few months -with the sacred ark, otherwise called a cradle: at that period a man -could hardly know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected. - -The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from a visit to her daughter in -town, wished, at least, that Mrs. Vigo should be written to, and -invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs. Casaubon: it was not -credible that Dorothea as a young widow would think of living alone in -the house at Lowick. Mrs. Vigo had been reader and secretary to royal -personages, and in point of knowledge and sentiments even Dorothea -could have nothing to object to her. - -Mrs. Cadwallader said, privately, You will certainly go mad in that -house alone, my dear. You will see visions. We have all got to exert -ourselves a little to keep sane, and call things by the same names as -other people call them by. To be sure, for younger sons and women who -have no money, it is a sort of provision to go mad: they are taken care -of then. But you must not run into that. I dare say you are a little -bored here with our good dowager; but think what a bore you might -become yourself to your fellow-creatures if you were always playing -tragedy queen and taking things sublimely. Sitting alone in that -library at Lowick you may fancy yourself ruling the weather; you must -get a few people round you who wouldnt believe you if you told them. -That is a good lowering medicine. - -I never called everything by the same name that all the people about -me did, said Dorothea, stoutly. - -But I suppose you have found out your mistake, my dear, said Mrs. -Cadwallader, and that is a proof of sanity. - -Dorothea was aware of the sting, but it did not hurt her. No, she -said, I still think that the greater part of the world is mistaken -about many things. Surely one may be sane and yet think so, since the -greater part of the world has often had to come round from its -opinion. - -Mrs. Cadwallader said no more on that point to Dorothea, but to her -husband she remarked, It will be well for her to marry again as soon -as it is proper, if one could get her among the right people. Of course -the Chettams would not wish it. But I see clearly a husband is the best -thing to keep her in order. If we were not so poor I would invite Lord -Triton. He will be marquis some day, and there is no denying that she -would make a good marchioness: she looks handsomer than ever in her -mourning. - -My dear Elinor, do let the poor woman alone. Such contrivances are of -no use, said the easy Rector. - -No use? How are matches made, except by bringing men and women -together? And it is a shame that her uncle should have run away and -shut up the Grange just now. There ought to be plenty of eligible -matches invited to Freshitt and the Grange. Lord Triton is precisely -the man: full of plans for making the people happy in a soft-headed -sort of way. That would just suit Mrs. Casaubon. - -Let Mrs. Casaubon choose for herself, Elinor. - -That is the nonsense you wise men talk! How can she choose if she has -no variety to choose from? A womans choice usually means taking the -only man she can get. Mark my words, Humphrey. If her friends dont -exert themselves, there will be a worse business than the Casaubon -business yet. - -For heavens sake dont touch on that topic, Elinor! It is a very sore -point with Sir James. He would be deeply offended if you entered on it -to him unnecessarily. - -I have never entered on it, said Mrs Cadwallader, opening her hands. -Celia told me all about the will at the beginning, without any asking -of mine. - -Yes, yes; but they want the thing hushed up, and I understand that the -young fellow is going out of the neighborhood. - -Mrs. Cadwallader said nothing, but gave her husband three significant -nods, with a very sarcastic expression in her dark eyes. - -Dorothea quietly persisted in spite of remonstrance and persuasion. So -by the end of June the shutters were all opened at Lowick Manor, and -the morning gazed calmly into the library, shining on the rows of -note-books as it shines on the weary waste planted with huge stones, -the mute memorial of a forgotten faith; and the evening laden with -roses entered silently into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose -oftenest to sit. At first she walked into every room, questioning the -eighteen months of her married life, and carrying on her thoughts as if -they were a speech to be heard by her husband. Then, she lingered in -the library and could not be at rest till she had carefully ranged all -the note-books as she imagined that he would wish to see them, in -orderly sequence. The pity which had been the restraining compelling -motive in her life with him still clung about his image, even while she -remonstrated with him in indignant thought and told him that he was -unjust. One little act of hers may perhaps be smiled at as -superstitious. The Synoptical Tabulation for the use of Mrs. Casaubon, -she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within the envelope, I -could not use it. Do you not see now that I could not submit my soul to -yours, by working hopelessly at what I have no belief inDorothea? -Then she deposited the paper in her own desk. - -That silent colloquy was perhaps only the more earnest because -underneath and through it all there was always the deep longing which -had really determined her to come to Lowick. The longing was to see -Will Ladislaw. She did not know any good that could come of their -meeting: she was helpless; her hands had been tied from making up to -him for any unfairness in his lot. But her soul thirsted to see him. -How could it be otherwise? If a princess in the days of enchantment had -seen a four-footed creature from among those which live in herds come -to her once and again with a human gaze which rested upon her with -choice and beseeching, what would she think of in her journeying, what -would she look for when the herds passed her? Surely for the gaze which -had found her, and which she would know again. Life would be no better -than candle-light tinsel and daylight rubbish if our spirits were not -touched by what has been, to issues of longing and constancy. It was -true that Dorothea wanted to know the Farebrothers better, and -especially to talk to the new rector, but also true that remembering -what Lydgate had told her about Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, -she counted on Wills coming to Lowick to see the Farebrother family. -The very first Sunday, _before_ she entered the church, she saw him as -she had seen him the last time she was there, alone in the clergymans -pew; but _when_ she entered his figure was gone. - -In the week-days when she went to see the ladies at the Rectory, she -listened in vain for some word that they might let fall about Will; but -it seemed to her that Mrs. Farebrother talked of every one else in the -neighborhood and out of it. - -Probably some of Mr. Farebrothers Middlemarch hearers may follow him -to Lowick sometimes. Do you not think so? said Dorothea, rather -despising herself for having a secret motive in asking the question. - -If they are wise they will, Mrs. Casaubon, said the old lady. I see -that you set a right value on my sons preaching. His grandfather on my -side was an excellent clergyman, but his father was in the law:most -exemplary and honest nevertheless, which is a reason for our never -being rich. They say Fortune is a woman and capricious. But sometimes -she is a good woman and gives to those who merit, which has been the -case with you, Mrs. Casaubon, who have given a living to my son. - -Mrs. Farebrother recurred to her knitting with a dignified satisfaction -in her neat little effort at oratory, but this was not what Dorothea -wanted to hear. Poor thing! she did not even know whether Will Ladislaw -was still at Middlemarch, and there was no one whom she dared to ask, -unless it were Lydgate. But just now she could not see Lydgate without -sending for him or going to seek him. Perhaps Will Ladislaw, having -heard of that strange ban against him left by Mr. Casaubon, had felt it -better that he and she should not meet again, and perhaps she was wrong -to wish for a meeting that others might find many good reasons against. -Still I do wish it came at the end of those wise reflections as -naturally as a sob after holding the breath. And the meeting did -happen, but in a formal way quite unexpected by her. - -One morning, about eleven, Dorothea was seated in her boudoir with a -map of the land attached to the manor and other papers before her, -which were to help her in making an exact statement for herself of her -income and affairs. She had not yet applied herself to her work, but -was seated with her hands folded on her lap, looking out along the -avenue of limes to the distant fields. Every leaf was at rest in the -sunshine, the familiar scene was changeless, and seemed to represent -the prospect of her life, full of motiveless easemotiveless, if her -own energy could not seek out reasons for ardent action. The widows -cap of those times made an oval frame for the face, and had a crown -standing up; the dress was an experiment in the utmost laying on of -crape; but this heavy solemnity of clothing made her face look all the -younger, with its recovered bloom, and the sweet, inquiring candor of -her eyes. - -Her reverie was broken by Tantripp, who came to say that Mr. Ladislaw -was below, and begged permission to see Madam if it were not too early. - -I will see him, said Dorothea, rising immediately. Let him be shown -into the drawing-room. - -The drawing-room was the most neutral room in the house to herthe one -least associated with the trials of her married life: the damask -matched the wood-work, which was all white and gold; there were two -tall mirrors and tables with nothing on themin brief, it was a room -where you had no reason for sitting in one place rather than in -another. It was below the boudoir, and had also a bow-window looking -out on the avenue. But when Pratt showed Will Ladislaw into it the -window was open; and a winged visitor, buzzing in and out now and then -without minding the furniture, made the room look less formal and -uninhabited. - -Glad to see you here again, sir, said Pratt, lingering to adjust a -blind. - -I am only come to say good-by, Pratt, said Will, who wished even the -butler to know that he was too proud to hang about Mrs. Casaubon now -she was a rich widow. - -Very sorry to hear it, sir, said Pratt, retiring. Of course, as a -servant who was to be told nothing, he knew the fact of which Ladislaw -was still ignorant, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, had not -differed from his betrothed Tantripp when she said, Your master was as -jealous as a fiendand no reason. Madam would look higher than Mr. -Ladislaw, else I dont know her. Mrs. Cadwalladers maid says theres a -lord coming who is to marry her when the mournings over. - -There were not many moments for Will to walk about with his hat in his -hand before Dorothea entered. The meeting was very different from that -first meeting in Rome when Will had been embarrassed and Dorothea calm. -This time he felt miserable but determined, while she was in a state of -agitation which could not be hidden. Just outside the door she had felt -that this longed-for meeting was after all too difficult, and when she -saw Will advancing towards her, the deep blush which was rare in her -came with painful suddenness. Neither of them knew how it was, but -neither of them spoke. She gave her hand for a moment, and then they -went to sit down near the window, she on one settee and he on another -opposite. Will was peculiarly uneasy: it seemed to him not like -Dorothea that the mere fact of her being a widow should cause such a -change in her manner of receiving him; and he knew of no other -condition which could have affected their previous relation to each -otherexcept that, as his imagination at once told him, her friends -might have been poisoning her mind with their suspicions of him. - -I hope I have not presumed too much in calling, said Will; I could -not bear to leave the neighborhood and begin a new life without seeing -you to say good-by. - -Presumed? Surely not. I should have thought it unkind if you had not -wished to see me, said Dorothea, her habit of speaking with perfect -genuineness asserting itself through all her uncertainty and agitation. -Are you going away immediately? - -Very soon, I think. I intend to go to town and eat my dinners as a -barrister, since, they say, that is the preparation for all public -business. There will be a great deal of political work to be done -by-and-by, and I mean to try and do some of it. Other men have managed -to win an honorable position for themselves without family or money. - -And that will make it all the more honorable, said Dorothea, -ardently. Besides, you have so many talents. I have heard from my -uncle how well you speak in public, so that every one is sorry when you -leave off, and how clearly you can explain things. And you care that -justice should be done to every one. I am so glad. When we were in -Rome, I thought you only cared for poetry and art, and the things that -adorn life for us who are well off. But now I know you think about the -rest of the world. - -While she was speaking Dorothea had lost her personal embarrassment, -and had become like her former self. She looked at Will with a direct -glance, full of delighted confidence. - -You approve of my going away for years, then, and never coming here -again till I have made myself of some mark in the world? said Will, -trying hard to reconcile the utmost pride with the utmost effort to get -an expression of strong feeling from Dorothea. - -She was not aware how long it was before she answered. She had turned -her head and was looking out of the window on the rose-bushes, which -seemed to have in them the summers of all the years when Will would be -away. This was not judicious behavior. But Dorothea never thought of -studying her manners: she thought only of bowing to a sad necessity -which divided her from Will. Those first words of his about his -intentions had seemed to make everything clear to her: he knew, she -supposed, all about Mr. Casaubons final conduct in relation to him, -and it had come to him with the same sort of shock as to herself. He -had never felt more than friendship for herhad never had anything in -his mind to justify what she felt to be her husbands outrage on the -feelings of both: and that friendship he still felt. Something which -may be called an inward silent sob had gone on in Dorothea before she -said with a pure voice, just trembling in the last words as if only -from its liquid flexibility - -Yes, it must be right for you to do as you say. I shall be very happy -when I hear that you have made your value felt. But you must have -patience. It will perhaps be a long while. - -Will never quite knew how it was that he saved himself from falling -down at her feet, when the long while came forth with its gentle -tremor. He used to say that the horrible hue and surface of her crape -dress was most likely the sufficient controlling force. He sat still, -however, and only said - -I shall never hear from you. And you will forget all about me. - -No, said Dorothea, I shall never forget you. I have never forgotten -any one whom I once knew. My life has never been crowded, and seems not -likely to be so. And I have a great deal of space for memory at Lowick, -havent I? She smiled. - -Good God! Will burst out passionately, rising, with his hat still in -his hand, and walking away to a marble table, where he suddenly turned -and leaned his back against it. The blood had mounted to his face and -neck, and he looked almost angry. It had seemed to him as if they were -like two creatures slowly turning to marble in each others presence, -while their hearts were conscious and their eyes were yearning. But -there was no help for it. It should never be true of him that in this -meeting to which he had come with bitter resolution he had ended by a -confession which might be interpreted into asking for her fortune. -Moreover, it was actually true that he was fearful of the effect which -such confessions might have on Dorothea herself. - -She looked at him from that distance in some trouble, imagining that -there might have been an offence in her words. But all the while there -was a current of thought in her about his probable want of money, and -the impossibility of her helping him. If her uncle had been at home, -something might have been done through him! It was this preoccupation -with the hardship of Wills wanting money, while she had what ought to -have been his share, which led her to say, seeing that he remained -silent and looked away from her - -I wonder whether you would like to have that miniature which hangs -up-stairsI mean that beautiful miniature of your grandmother. I think -it is not right for me to keep it, if you would wish to have it. It is -wonderfully like you. - -You are very good, said Will, irritably. No; I dont mind about it. -It is not very consoling to have ones own likeness. It would be more -consoling if others wanted to have it. - -I thought you would like to cherish her memoryI thought Dorothea -broke off an instant, her imagination suddenly warning her away from -Aunt Julias historyyou would surely like to have the miniature as a -family memorial. - -Why should I have that, when I have nothing else! A man with only a -portmanteau for his stowage must keep his memorials in his head. - -Will spoke at random: he was merely venting his petulance; it was a -little too exasperating to have his grandmothers portrait offered him -at that moment. But to Dorotheas feeling his words had a peculiar -sting. She rose and said with a touch of indignation as well as -hauteur - -You are much the happier of us two, Mr. Ladislaw, to have nothing. - -Will was startled. Whatever the words might be, the tone seemed like a -dismissal; and quitting his leaning posture, he walked a little way -towards her. Their eyes met, but with a strange questioning gravity. -Something was keeping their minds aloof, and each was left to -conjecture what was in the other. Will had really never thought of -himself as having a claim of inheritance on the property which was held -by Dorothea, and would have required a narrative to make him understand -her present feeling. - -I never felt it a misfortune to have nothing till now, he said. But -poverty may be as bad as leprosy, if it divides us from what we most -care for. - -The words cut Dorothea to the heart, and made her relent. She answered -in a tone of sad fellowship. - -Sorrow comes in so many ways. Two years ago I had no notion of thatI -mean of the unexpected way in which trouble comes, and ties our hands, -and makes us silent when we long to speak. I used to despise women a -little for not shaping their lives more, and doing better things. I was -very fond of doing as I liked, but I have almost given it up, she -ended, smiling playfully. - -I have not given up doing as I like, but I can very seldom do it, -said Will. He was standing two yards from her with his mind full of -contradictory desires and resolvesdesiring some unmistakable proof -that she loved him, and yet dreading the position into which such a -proof might bring him. The thing one most longs for may be surrounded -with conditions that would be intolerable. - -At this moment Pratt entered and said, Sir James Chettam is in the -library, madam. - -Ask Sir James to come in here, said Dorothea, immediately. It was as -if the same electric shock had passed through her and Will. Each of -them felt proudly resistant, and neither looked at the other, while -they awaited Sir Jamess entrance. - -After shaking hands with Dorothea, he bowed as slightly as possible to -Ladislaw, who repaid the slightness exactly, and then going towards -Dorothea, said - -I must say good-by, Mrs. Casaubon; and probably for a long while. - -Dorothea put out her hand and said her good-by cordially. The sense -that Sir James was depreciating Will, and behaving rudely to him, -roused her resolution and dignity: there was no touch of confusion in -her manner. And when Will had left the room, she looked with such calm -self-possession at Sir James, saying, How is Celia? that he was -obliged to behave as if nothing had annoyed him. And what would be the -use of behaving otherwise? Indeed, Sir James shrank with so much -dislike from the association even in thought of Dorothea with Ladislaw -as her possible lover, that he would himself have wished to avoid an -outward show of displeasure which would have recognized the -disagreeable possibility. If any one had asked him why he shrank in -that way, I am not sure that he would at first have said anything -fuller or more precise than _That_ Ladislaw!though on reflection he -might have urged that Mr. Casaubons codicil, barring Dorotheas -marriage with Will, except under a penalty, was enough to cast -unfitness over any relation at all between them. His aversion was all -the stronger because he felt himself unable to interfere. - -But Sir James was a power in a way unguessed by himself. Entering at -that moment, he was an incorporation of the strongest reasons through -which Wills pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from -Dorothea. - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - -Hath she her faults? I would you had them too. -They are the fruity must of soundest wine; -Or say, they are regenerating fire -Such as hath turned the dense black element -Into a crystal pathway for the sun. - - -If youth is the season of hope, it is often so only in the sense that -our elders are hopeful about us; for no age is so apt as youth to think -its emotions, partings, and resolves are the last of their kind. Each -crisis seems final, simply because it is new. We are told that the -oldest inhabitants in Peru do not cease to be agitated by the -earthquakes, but they probably see beyond each shock, and reflect that -there are plenty more to come. - -To Dorothea, still in that time of youth when the eyes with their long -full lashes look out after their rain of tears unsoiled and unwearied -as a freshly opened passion-flower, that mornings parting with Will -Ladislaw seemed to be the close of their personal relations. He was -going away into the distance of unknown years, and if ever he came back -he would be another man. The actual state of his mindhis proud resolve -to give the lie beforehand to any suspicion that he would play the -needy adventurer seeking a rich womanlay quite out of her imagination, -and she had interpreted all his behavior easily enough by her -supposition that Mr. Casaubons codicil seemed to him, as it did to -her, a gross and cruel interdict on any active friendship between them. -Their young delight in speaking to each other, and saying what no one -else would care to hear, was forever ended, and become a treasure of -the past. For this very reason she dwelt on it without inward check. -That unique happiness too was dead, and in its shadowed silent chamber -she might vent the passionate grief which she herself wondered at. For -the first time she took down the miniature from the wall and kept it -before her, liking to blend the woman who had been too hardly judged -with the grandson whom her own heart and judgment defended. Can any one -who has rejoiced in womans tenderness think it a reproach to her that -she took the little oval picture in her palm and made a bed for it -there, and leaned her cheek upon it, as if that would soothe the -creatures who had suffered unjust condemnation? She did not know then -that it was Love who had come to her briefly, as in a dream before -awaking, with the hues of morning on his wingsthat it was Love to whom -she was sobbing her farewell as his image was banished by the blameless -rigor of irresistible day. She only felt that there was something -irrevocably amiss and lost in her lot, and her thoughts about the -future were the more readily shapen into resolve. Ardent souls, ready -to construct their coming lives, are apt to commit themselves to the -fulfilment of their own visions. - -One day that she went to Freshitt to fulfil her promise of staying all -night and seeing baby washed, Mrs. Cadwallader came to dine, the Rector -being gone on a fishing excursion. It was a warm evening, and even in -the delightful drawing-room, where the fine old turf sloped from the -open window towards a lilied pool and well-planted mounds, the heat was -enough to make Celia in her white muslin and light curls reflect with -pity on what Dodo must feel in her black dress and close cap. But this -was not until some episodes with baby were over, and had left her mind -at leisure. She had seated herself and taken up a fan for some time -before she said, in her quiet guttural - -Dear Dodo, do throw off that cap. I am sure your dress must make you -feel ill. - -I am so used to the capit has become a sort of shell, said Dorothea, -smiling. I feel rather bare and exposed when it is off. - -I must see you without it; it makes us all warm, said Celia, throwing -down her fan, and going to Dorothea. It was a pretty picture to see -this little lady in white muslin unfastening the widows cap from her -more majestic sister, and tossing it on to a chair. Just as the coils -and braids of dark-brown hair had been set free, Sir James entered the -room. He looked at the released head, and said, Ah! in a tone of -satisfaction. - -It was I who did it, James, said Celia. Dodo need not make such a -slavery of her mourning; she need not wear that cap any more among her -friends. - -My dear Celia, said Lady Chettam, a widow must wear her mourning at -least a year. - -Not if she marries again before the end of it, said Mrs. Cadwallader, -who had some pleasure in startling her good friend the Dowager. Sir -James was annoyed, and leaned forward to play with Celias Maltese dog. - -That is very rare, I hope, said Lady Chettam, in a tone intended to -guard against such events. No friend of ours ever committed herself in -that way except Mrs. Beevor, and it was very painful to Lord Grinsell -when she did so. Her first husband was objectionable, which made it the -greater wonder. And severely she was punished for it. They said Captain -Beevor dragged her about by the hair, and held up loaded pistols at -her. - -Oh, if she took the wrong man! said Mrs. Cadwallader, who was in a -decidedly wicked mood. Marriage is always bad then, first or second. -Priority is a poor recommendation in a husband if he has got no other. -I would rather have a good second husband than an indifferent first. - -My dear, your clever tongue runs away with you, said Lady Chettam. I -am sure you would be the last woman to marry again prematurely, if our -dear Rector were taken away. - -Oh, I make no vows; it might be a necessary economy. It is lawful to -marry again, I suppose; else we might as well be Hindoos instead of -Christians. Of course if a woman accepts the wrong man, she must take -the consequences, and one who does it twice over deserves her fate. But -if she can marry blood, beauty, and braverythe sooner the better. - -I think the subject of our conversation is very ill-chosen, said Sir -James, with a look of disgust. Suppose we change it. - -Not on my account, Sir James, said Dorothea, determined not to lose -the opportunity of freeing herself from certain oblique references to -excellent matches. If you are speaking on my behalf, I can assure you -that no question can be more indifferent and impersonal to me than -second marriage. It is no more to me than if you talked of women going -fox-hunting: whether it is admirable in them or not, I shall not follow -them. Pray let Mrs. Cadwallader amuse herself on that subject as much -as on any other. - -My dear Mrs. Casaubon, said Lady Chettam, in her stateliest way, you -do not, I hope, think there was any allusion to you in my mentioning -Mrs. Beevor. It was only an instance that occurred to me. She was -step-daughter to Lord Grinsell: he married Mrs. Teveroy for his second -wife. There could be no possible allusion to you. - -Oh no, said Celia. Nobody chose the subject; it all came out of -Dodos cap. Mrs. Cadwallader only said what was quite true. A woman -could not be married in a widows cap, James. - -Hush, my dear! said Mrs. Cadwallader. I will not offend again. I -will not even refer to Dido or Zenobia. Only what are we to talk about? -I, for my part, object to the discussion of Human Nature, because that -is the nature of rectors wives. - -Later in the evening, after Mrs. Cadwallader was gone, Celia said -privately to Dorothea, Really, Dodo, taking your cap off made you like -yourself again in more ways than one. You spoke up just as you used to -do, when anything was said to displease you. But I could hardly make -out whether it was James that you thought wrong, or Mrs. Cadwallader. - -Neither, said Dorothea. James spoke out of delicacy to me, but he -was mistaken in supposing that I minded what Mrs. Cadwallader said. I -should only mind if there were a law obliging me to take any piece of -blood and beauty that she or anybody else recommended. - -But you know, Dodo, if you ever did marry, it would be all the better -to have blood and beauty, said Celia, reflecting that Mr. Casaubon had -not been richly endowed with those gifts, and that it would be well to -caution Dorothea in time. - -Dont be anxious, Kitty; I have quite other thoughts about my life. I -shall never marry again, said Dorothea, touching her sisters chin, -and looking at her with indulgent affection. Celia was nursing her -baby, and Dorothea had come to say good-night to her. - -Reallyquite? said Celia. Not anybody at allif he were very -wonderful indeed? - -Dorothea shook her head slowly. Not anybody at all. I have delightful -plans. I should like to take a great deal of land, and drain it, and -make a little colony, where everybody should work, and all the work -should be done well. I should know every one of the people and be their -friend. I am going to have great consultations with Mr. Garth: he can -tell me almost everything I want to know. - -Then you _will_ be happy, if you have a plan, Dodo? said Celia. -Perhaps little Arthur will like plans when he grows up, and then he -can help you. - -Sir James was informed that same night that Dorothea was really quite -set against marrying anybody at all, and was going to take to all -sorts of plans, just like what she used to have. Sir James made no -remark. To his secret feeling there was something repulsive in a -womans second marriage, and no match would prevent him from feeling it -a sort of desecration for Dorothea. He was aware that the world would -regard such a sentiment as preposterous, especially in relation to a -woman of one-and-twenty; the practice of the world being to treat of -a young widows second marriage as certain and probably near, and to -smile with meaning if the widow acts accordingly. But if Dorothea did -choose to espouse her solitude, he felt that the resolution would well -become her. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. - -How happy is he born and taught -That serveth not anothers will; -Whose armor is his honest thought, -And simple truth his only skill! -. . . . . . . -This man is freed from servile bands -Of hope to rise or fear to fall; -Lord of himself though not of lands; -And having nothing yet hath all. -SIR HENRY WOTTON. - - -Dorotheas confidence in Caleb Garths knowledge, which had begun on -her hearing that he approved of her cottages, had grown fast during her -stay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to take rides over the -two estates in company with himself and Caleb, who quite returned her -admiration, and told his wife that Mrs. Casaubon had a head for -business most uncommon in a woman. It must be remembered that by -business Caleb never meant money transactions, but the skilful -application of labor. - -Most uncommon! repeated Caleb. She said a thing I often used to -think myself when I was a lad:Mr. Garth, I should like to feel, if I -lived to be old, that I had improved a great piece of land and built a -great many good cottages, because the work is of a healthy kind while -it is being done, and after it is done, men are the better for it. -Those were the very words: she sees into things in that way. - -But womanly, I hope, said Mrs. Garth, half suspecting that Mrs. -Casaubon might not hold the true principle of subordination. - -Oh, you cant think! said Caleb, shaking his head. You would like to -hear her speak, Susan. She speaks in such plain words, and a voice like -music. Bless me! it reminds me of bits in the Messiahand -straightway there appeared a multitude of the heavenly host, praising -God and saying; it has a tone with it that satisfies your ear. - -Caleb was very fond of music, and when he could afford it went to hear -an oratorio that came within his reach, returning from it with a -profound reverence for this mighty structure of tones, which made him -sit meditatively, looking on the floor and throwing much unutterable -language into his outstretched hands. - -With this good understanding between them, it was natural that Dorothea -asked Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the three -farms and the numerous tenements attached to Lowick Manor; indeed, his -expectation of getting work for two was being fast fulfilled. As he -said, Business breeds. And one form of business which was beginning -to breed just then was the construction of railways. A projected line -was to run through Lowick parish where the cattle had hitherto grazed -in a peace unbroken by astonishment; and thus it happened that the -infant struggles of the railway system entered into the affairs of -Caleb Garth, and determined the course of this history with regard to -two persons who were dear to him. The submarine railway may have its -difficulties; but the bed of the sea is not divided among various -landed proprietors with claims for damages not only measurable but -sentimental. In the hundred to which Middlemarch belonged railways were -as exciting a topic as the Reform Bill or the imminent horrors of -Cholera, and those who held the most decided views on the subject were -women and landholders. Women both old and young regarded travelling by -steam as presumptuous and dangerous, and argued against it by saying -that nothing should induce them to get into a railway carriage; while -proprietors, differing from each other in their arguments as much as -Mr. Solomon Featherstone differed from Lord Medlicote, were yet -unanimous in the opinion that in selling land, whether to the Enemy of -mankind or to a company obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies -must be made to pay a very high price to landowners for permission to -injure mankind. - -But the slower wits, such as Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Waule, who both -occupied land of their own, took a long time to arrive at this -conclusion, their minds halting at the vivid conception of what it -would be to cut the Big Pasture in two, and turn it into three-cornered -bits, which would be nohow; while accommodation-bridges and high -payments were remote and incredible. - -The cows will all cast their calves, brother, said Mrs. Waule, in a -tone of deep melancholy, if the railway comes across the Near Close; -and I shouldnt wonder at the mare too, if she was in foal. Its a poor -tale if a widows property is to be spaded away, and the law say -nothing to it. Whats to hinder em from cutting right and left if they -begin? Its well known, _I_ cant fight. - -The best way would be to say nothing, and set somebody on to send em -away with a flea in their ear, when they came spying and measuring, -said Solomon. Folks did that about Brassing, by what I can understand. -Its all a pretence, if the truth was known, about their being forced -to take one way. Let em go cutting in another parish. And I dont -believe in any pay to make amends for bringing a lot of ruffians to -trample your crops. Wheres a companys pocket? - -Brother Peter, God forgive him, got money out of a company, said Mrs. -Waule. But that was for the manganese. That wasnt for railways to -blow you to pieces right and left. - -Well, theres this to be said, Jane, Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering -his voice in a cautious mannerthe more spokes we put in their wheel, -the more theyll pay us to let em go on, if they must come whether or -not. - -This reasoning of Mr. Solomons was perhaps less thorough than he -imagined, his cunning bearing about the same relation to the course of -railways as the cunning of a diplomatist bears to the general chill or -catarrh of the solar system. But he set about acting on his views in a -thoroughly diplomatic manner, by stimulating suspicion. His side of -Lowick was the most remote from the village, and the houses of the -laboring people were either lone cottages or were collected in a hamlet -called Frick, where a water-mill and some stone-pits made a little -centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry. - -In the absence of any precise idea as to what railways were, public -opinion in Frick was against them; for the human mind in that grassy -corner had not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, holding -rather that it was likely to be against the poor man, and that -suspicion was the only wise attitude with regard to it. Even the rumor -of Reform had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick, -there being no definite promise in it, as of gratuitous grains to -fatten Hiram Fords pig, or of a publican at the Weights and Scales -who would brew beer for nothing, or of an offer on the part of the -three neighboring farmers to raise wages during winter. And without -distinct good of this kind in its promises, Reform seemed on a footing -with the bragging of pedlers, which was a hint for distrust to every -knowing person. The men of Frick were not ill-fed, and were less given -to fanaticism than to a strong muscular suspicion; less inclined to -believe that they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to regard -heaven itself as rather disposed to take them ina disposition -observable in the weather. - -Thus the mind of Frick was exactly of the sort for Mr. Solomon -Featherstone to work upon, he having more plenteous ideas of the same -order, with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was better fed and -more entirely at leisure. Solomon was overseer of the roads at that -time, and on his slow-paced cob often took his rounds by Frick to look -at the workmen getting the stones there, pausing with a mysterious -deliberation, which might have misled you into supposing that he had -some other reason for staying than the mere want of impulse to move. -After looking for a long while at any work that was going on, he would -raise his eyes a little and look at the horizon; finally he would shake -his bridle, touch his horse with the whip, and get it to move slowly -onward. The hour-hand of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. -Solomon, who had an agreeable sense that he could afford to be slow. He -was in the habit of pausing for a cautious, vaguely designing chat with -every hedger or ditcher on his way, and was especially willing to -listen even to news which he had heard before, feeling himself at an -advantage over all narrators in partially disbelieving them. One day, -however, he got into a dialogue with Hiram Ford, a wagoner, in which he -himself contributed information. He wished to know whether Hiram had -seen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they called -themselves railroad people, but there was no telling what they were or -what they meant to do. The least they pretended was that they were -going to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens. - -Why, therell be no stirrin from one pla-ace to another, said Hiram, -thinking of his wagon and horses. - -Not a bit, said Mr. Solomon. And cutting up fine land such as this -parish! Let em go into Tipton, say I. But theres no knowing what -there is at the bottom of it. Traffic is what they put forard; but -its to do harm to the land and the poor man in the long-run. - -Why, theyre Lunnon chaps, I reckon, said Hiram, who had a dim notion -of London as a centre of hostility to the country. - -Ay, to be sure. And in some parts against Brassing, by what Ive heard -say, the folks fell on em when they were spying, and broke their -peep-holes as they carry, and drove em away, so as they knew better -than come again. - -It war good foon, Id be bound, said Hiram, whose fun was much -restricted by circumstances. - -Well, I wouldnt meddle with em myself, said Solomon. But some say -this countrys seen its best days, and the sign is, as its being -overrun with these fellows trampling right and left, and wanting to cut -it up into railways; and all for the big traffic to swallow up the -little, so as there shant be a team left on the land, nor a whip to -crack. - -Ill crack _my_ whip about their earn, afore they bring it to that, -though, said Hiram, while Mr. Solomon, shaking his bridle, moved -onward. - -Nettle-seed needs no digging. The ruin of this countryside by railroads -was discussed, not only at the Weights and Scales, but in the -hay-field, where the muster of working hands gave opportunities for -talk such as were rarely had through the rural year. - -One morning, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother and -Mary Garth, in which she confessed to him her feeling for Fred Vincy, -it happened that her father had some business which took him to -Yoddrells farm in the direction of Frick: it was to measure and value -an outlying piece of land belonging to Lowick Manor, which Caleb -expected to dispose of advantageously for Dorothea (it must be -confessed that his bias was towards getting the best possible terms -from railroad companies). He put up his gig at Yoddrells, and in -walking with his assistant and measuring-chain to the scene of his -work, he encountered the party of the companys agents, who were -adjusting their spirit-level. After a little chat he left them, -observing that by-and-by they would reach him again where he was going -to measure. It was one of those gray mornings after light rains, which -become delicious about twelve oclock, when the clouds part a little, -and the scent of the earth is sweet along the lanes and by the -hedgerows. - -The scent would have been sweeter to Fred Vincy, who was coming along -the lanes on horseback, if his mind had not been worried by -unsuccessful efforts to imagine what he was to do, with his father on -one side expecting him straightway to enter the Church, with Mary on -the other threatening to forsake him if he did enter it, and with the -working-day world showing no eager need whatever of a young gentleman -without capital and generally unskilled. It was the harder to Freds -disposition because his father, satisfied that he was no longer -rebellious, was in good humor with him, and had sent him on this -pleasant ride to see after some greyhounds. Even when he had fixed on -what he should do, there would be the task of telling his father. But -it must be admitted that the fixing, which had to come first, was the -more difficult task:what secular avocation on earth was there for a -young man (whose friends could not get him an appointment) which was -at once gentlemanly, lucrative, and to be followed without special -knowledge? Riding along the lanes by Frick in this mood, and slackening -his pace while he reflected whether he should venture to go round by -Lowick Parsonage to call on Mary, he could see over the hedges from one -field to another. Suddenly a noise roused his attention, and on the far -side of a field on his left hand he could see six or seven men in -smock-frocks with hay-forks in their hands making an offensive approach -towards the four railway agents who were facing them, while Caleb Garth -and his assistant were hastening across the field to join the -threatened group. Fred, delayed a few moments by having to find the -gate, could not gallop up to the spot before the party in smock-frocks, -whose work of turning the hay had not been too pressing after -swallowing their mid-day beer, were driving the men in coats before -them with their hay-forks; while Caleb Garths assistant, a lad of -seventeen, who had snatched up the spirit-level at Calebs order, had -been knocked down and seemed to be lying helpless. The coated men had -the advantage as runners, and Fred covered their retreat by getting in -front of the smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to throw -their chase into confusion. What do you confounded fools mean? -shouted Fred, pursuing the divided group in a zigzag, and cutting right -and left with his whip. Ill swear to every one of you before the -magistrate. Youve knocked the lad down and killed him, for what I -know. Youll every one of you be hanged at the next assizes, if you -dont mind, said Fred, who afterwards laughed heartily as he -remembered his own phrases. - -The laborers had been driven through the gate-way into their hay-field, -and Fred had checked his horse, when Hiram Ford, observing himself at a -safe challenging distance, turned back and shouted a defiance which he -did not know to be Homeric. - -Yore a coward, yo are. Yo git off your horse, young measter, and Ill -have a round wi ye, I wull. Yo darednt come on wiout your hoss an -whip. Id soon knock the breath out on ye, I would. - -Wait a minute, and Ill come back presently, and have a round with you -all in turn, if you like, said Fred, who felt confidence in his power -of boxing with his dearly beloved brethren. But just now he wanted to -hasten back to Caleb and the prostrate youth. - -The lads ankle was strained, and he was in much pain from it, but he -was no further hurt, and Fred placed him on the horse that he might -ride to Yoddrells and be taken care of there. - -Let them put the horse in the stable, and tell the surveyors they can -come back for their traps, said Fred. The ground is clear now. - -No, no, said Caleb, heres a breakage. Theyll have to give up for -to-day, and it will be as well. Here, take the things before you on the -horse, Tom. Theyll see you coming, and theyll turn back. - -Im glad I happened to be here at the right moment, Mr. Garth, said -Fred, as Tom rode away. No knowing what might have happened if the -cavalry had not come up in time. - -Ay, ay, it was lucky, said Caleb, speaking rather absently, and -looking towards the spot where he had been at work at the moment of -interruption. Butdeuce take itthis is what comes of men being -foolsIm hindered of my days work. I cant get along without somebody -to help me with the measuring-chain. However! He was beginning to move -towards the spot with a look of vexation, as if he had forgotten Freds -presence, but suddenly he turned round and said quickly, What have you -got to do to-day, young fellow? - -Nothing, Mr. Garth. Ill help you with pleasurecan I? said Fred, -with a sense that he should be courting Mary when he was helping her -father. - -Well, you mustnt mind stooping and getting hot. - -I dont mind anything. Only I want to go first and have a round with -that hulky fellow who turned to challenge me. It would be a good lesson -for him. I shall not be five minutes. - -Nonsense! said Caleb, with his most peremptory intonation. I shall -go and speak to the men myself. Its all ignorance. Somebody has been -telling them lies. The poor fools dont know any better. - -I shall go with you, then, said Fred. - -No, no; stay where you are. I dont want your young blood. I can take -care of myself. - -Caleb was a powerful man and knew little of any fear except the fear of -hurting others and the fear of having to speechify. But he felt it his -duty at this moment to try and give a little harangue. There was a -striking mixture in himwhich came from his having always been a -hard-working man himselfof rigorous notions about workmen and -practical indulgence towards them. To do a good days work and to do it -well, he held to be part of their welfare, as it was the chief part of -his own happiness; but he had a strong sense of fellowship with them. -When he advanced towards the laborers they had not gone to work again, -but were standing in that form of rural grouping which consists in each -turning a shoulder towards the other, at a distance of two or three -yards. They looked rather sulkily at Caleb, who walked quickly with one -hand in his pocket and the other thrust between the buttons of his -waistcoat, and had his every-day mild air when he paused among them. - -Why, my lads, hows this? he began, taking as usual to brief phrases, -which seemed pregnant to himself, because he had many thoughts lying -under them, like the abundant roots of a plant that just manages to -peep above the water. How came you to make such a mistake as this? -Somebody has been telling you lies. You thought those men up there -wanted to do mischief. - -Aw! was the answer, dropped at intervals by each according to his -degree of unreadiness. - -Nonsense! No such thing! Theyre looking out to see which way the -railroad is to take. Now, my lads, you cant hinder the railroad: it -will be made whether you like it or not. And if you go fighting against -it, youll get yourselves into trouble. The law gives those men leave -to come here on the land. The owner has nothing to say against it, and -if you meddle with them youll have to do with the constable and -Justice Blakesley, and with the handcuffs and Middlemarch jail. And you -might be in for it now, if anybody informed against you. - -Caleb paused here, and perhaps the greatest orator could not have -chosen either his pause or his images better for the occasion. - -But come, you didnt mean any harm. Somebody told you the railroad was -a bad thing. That was a lie. It may do a bit of harm here and there, to -this and to that; and so does the sun in heaven. But the railways a -good thing. - -Aw! good for the big folks to make money out on, said old Timothy -Cooper, who had stayed behind turning his hay while the others had been -gone on their spree;In seen lots o things turn up sin I war a -young unthe war an the peace, and the canells, an the oald King -George, an the Regen, an the new King George, an the new un as has -got a new ne-amean its been all aloike to the poor mon. Whats the -canells been t him? Theyn brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor -wage to lay by, if he didnt save it wi clemmin his own inside. Times -ha got wusser for him sin I war a young un. An so itll be wi the -railroads. Theyll ony leave the poor mon furder behind. But them are -fools as meddle, and so I told the chaps here. This is the big folkss -world, this is. But yore for the big folks, Muster Garth, yo are. - -Timothy was a wiry old laborer, of a type lingering in those timeswho -had his savings in a stocking-foot, lived in a lone cottage, and was -not to be wrought on by any oratory, having as little of the feudal -spirit, and believing as little, as if he had not been totally -unacquainted with the Age of Reason and the Rights of Man. Caleb was in -a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and -unassisted by miracle to reason with rustics who are in possession of -an undeniable truth which they know through a hard process of feeling, -and can let it fall like a giants club on your neatly carved argument -for a social benefit which they do not feel. Caleb had no cant at -command, even if he could have chosen to use it; and he had been -accustomed to meet all such difficulties in no other way than by doing -his business faithfully. He answered - -If you dont think well of me, Tim, never mind; thats neither here -nor there now. Things may be bad for the poor manbad they are; but I -want the lads here not to do what will make things worse for -themselves. The cattle may have a heavy load, but it wont help em to -throw it over into the roadside pit, when its partly their own -fodder. - -We war ony for a bit o foon, said Hiram, who was beginning to see -consequences. That war all we war arter. - -Well, promise me not to meddle again, and Ill see that nobody informs -against you. - -In neer meddled, an In no call to promise, said Timothy. - -No, but the rest. Come, Im as hard at work as any of you to-day, and -I cant spare much time. Say youll be quiet without the constable. - -Aw, we wooant meddlethey may do as they loike for ooswere the forms -in which Caleb got his pledges; and then he hastened back to Fred, who -had followed him, and watched him in the gateway. - -They went to work, and Fred helped vigorously. His spirits had risen, -and he heartily enjoyed a good slip in the moist earth under the -hedgerow, which soiled his perfect summer trousers. Was it his -successful onset which had elated him, or the satisfaction of helping -Marys father? Something more. The accidents of the morning had helped -his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself which had -several attractions. I am not sure that certain fibres in Mr. Garths -mind had not resumed their old vibration towards the very end which now -revealed itself to Fred. For the effective accident is but the touch of -fire where there is oil and tow; and it always appeared to Fred that -the railway brought the needed touch. But they went on in silence -except when their business demanded speech. At last, when they had -finished and were walking away, Mr. Garth said - -A young fellow neednt be a B. A. to do this sort of work, eh, Fred? - -I wish I had taken to it before I had thought of being a B. A., said -Fred. He paused a moment, and then added, more hesitatingly, Do you -think I am too old to learn your business, Mr. Garth? - -My business is of many sorts, my boy, said Mr. Garth, smiling. A -good deal of what I know can only come from experience: you cant learn -it off as you learn things out of a book. But you are young enough to -lay a foundation yet. Caleb pronounced the last sentence emphatically, -but paused in some uncertainty. He had been under the impression lately -that Fred had made up his mind to enter the Church. - -You do think I could do some good at it, if I were to try? said Fred, -more eagerly. - -That depends, said Caleb, turning his head on one side and lowering -his voice, with the air of a man who felt himself to be saying -something deeply religious. You must be sure of two things: you must -love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting -your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your -work, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something -else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it -well, and not be always saying, Theres this and theres thatif I had -this or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a man -isI wouldnt give twopence for himhere Calebs mouth looked bitter, -and he snapped his fingerswhether he was the prime minister or the -rick-thatcher, if he didnt do well what he undertook to do. - -I can never feel that I should do that in being a clergyman, said -Fred, meaning to take a step in argument. - -Then let it alone, my boy, said Caleb, abruptly, else youll never -be easy. Or, if you _are_ easy, youll be a poor stick. - -That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it, said Fred, coloring. -I think you must know what I feel for Mary, Mr. Garth: I hope it does -not displease you that I have always loved her better than any one -else, and that I shall never love any one as I love her. - -The expression of Calebs face was visibly softening while Fred spoke. -But he swung his head with a solemn slowness, and said - -That makes things more serious, Fred, if you want to take Marys -happiness into your keeping. - -I know that, Mr. Garth, said Fred, eagerly, and I would do anything -for _her_. She says she will never have me if I go into the Church; and -I shall be the most miserable devil in the world if I lose all hope of -Mary. Really, if I could get some other profession, businessanything -that I am at all fit for, I would work hard, I would deserve your good -opinion. I should like to have to do with outdoor things. I know a good -deal about land and cattle already. I used to believe, you knowthough -you will think me rather foolish for itthat I should have land of my -own. I am sure knowledge of that sort would come easily to me, -especially if I could be under you in any way. - -Softly, my boy, said Caleb, having the image of Susan before his -eyes. What have you said to your father about all this? - -Nothing, yet; but I must tell him. I am only waiting to know what I -can do instead of entering the Church. I am very sorry to disappoint -him, but a man ought to be allowed to judge for himself when he is -four-and-twenty. How could I know when I was fifteen, what it would be -right for me to do now? My education was a mistake. - -But hearken to this, Fred, said Caleb. Are you sure Mary is fond of -you, or would ever have you? - -I asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbidden meI -didnt know what else to do, said Fred, apologetically. And he says -that I have every reason to hope, if I can put myself in an honorable -positionI mean, out of the Church. I dare say you think it -unwarrantable in me, Mr. Garth, to be troubling you and obtruding my -own wishes about Mary, before I have done anything at all for myself. -Of course I have not the least claimindeed, I have already a debt to -you which will never be discharged, even when I have been able to pay -it in the shape of money. - -Yes, my boy, you have a claim, said Caleb, with much feeling in his -voice. The young ones have always a claim on the old to help them -forward. I was young myself once and had to do without much help; but -help would have been welcome to me, if it had been only for the -fellow-feelings sake. But I must consider. Come to me to-morrow at the -office, at nine oclock. At the office, mind. - -Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan, but it -must be confessed that before he reached home he had taken his -resolution. With regard to a large number of matters about which other -men are decided or obstinate, he was the most easily manageable man in -the world. He never knew what meat he would choose, and if Susan had -said that they ought to live in a four-roomed cottage, in order to -save, he would have said, Let us go, without inquiring into details. -But where Calebs feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he was a -ruler; and in spite of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every -one about him knew that on the exceptional occasions when he chose, he -was absolute. He never, indeed, chose to be absolute except on some one -elses behalf. On ninety-nine points Mrs. Garth decided, but on the -hundredth she was often aware that she would have to perform the -singularly difficult task of carrying out her own principle, and to -make herself subordinate. - -It is come round as I thought, Susan, said Caleb, when they were -seated alone in the evening. He had already narrated the adventure -which had brought about Freds sharing in his work, but had kept back -the further result. The children _are_ fond of each otherI mean, Fred -and Mary. - -Mrs. Garth laid her work on her knee, and fixed her penetrating eyes -anxiously on her husband. - -After wed done our work, Fred poured it all out to me. He cant bear -to be a clergyman, and Mary says she wont have him if he is one; and -the lad would like to be under me and give his mind to business. And -Ive determined to take him and make a man of him. - -Caleb! said Mrs. Garth, in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned -astonishment. - -Its a fine thing to do, said Mr. Garth, settling himself firmly -against the back of his chair, and grasping the elbows. I shall have -trouble with him, but I think I shall carry it through. The lad loves -Mary, and a true love for a good woman is a great thing, Susan. It -shapes many a rough fellow. - -Has Mary spoken to you on the subject? said Mrs Garth, secretly a -little hurt that she had to be informed on it herself. - -Not a word. I asked her about Fred once; I gave her a bit of a -warning. But she assured me she would never marry an idle -self-indulgent mannothing since. But it seems Fred set on Mr. -Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbidden him to speak -himself, and Mr. Farebrother has found out that she is fond of Fred, -but says he must not be a clergyman. Freds heart is fixed on Mary, -that I can see: it gives me a good opinion of the ladand we always -liked him, Susan. - -It is a pity for Mary, I think, said Mrs. Garth. - -Whya pity? - -Because, Caleb, she might have had a man who is worth twenty Fred -Vincys. - -Ah? said Caleb, with surprise. - -I firmly believe that Mr. Farebrother is attached to her, and meant to -make her an offer; but of course, now that Fred has used him as an -envoy, there is an end to that better prospect. There was a severe -precision in Mrs. Garths utterance. She was vexed and disappointed, -but she was bent on abstaining from useless words. - -Caleb was silent a few moments under a conflict of feelings. He looked -at the floor and moved his head and hands in accompaniment to some -inward argumentation. At last he said - -That would have made me very proud and happy, Susan, and I should have -been glad for your sake. Ive always felt that your belongings have -never been on a level with you. But you took me, though I was a plain -man. - -I took the best and cleverest man I had ever known, said Mrs. Garth, -convinced that _she_ would never have loved any one who came short of -that mark. - -Well, perhaps others thought you might have done better. But it would -have been worse for me. And that is what touches me close about Fred. -The lad is good at bottom, and clever enough to do, if hes put in the -right way; and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything, and she -has given him a sort of promise according to what he turns out. I say, -that young mans soul is in my hand; and Ill do the best I can for -him, so help me God! Its my duty, Susan. - -Mrs. Garth was not given to tears, but there was a large one rolling -down her face before her husband had finished. It came from the -pressure of various feelings, in which there was much affection and -some vexation. She wiped it away quickly, saying - -Few men besides you would think it a duty to add to their anxieties in -that way, Caleb. - -That signifies nothingwhat other men would think. Ive got a clear -feeling inside me, and that I shall follow; and I hope your heart will -go with me, Susan, in making everything as light as can be to Mary, -poor child. - -Caleb, leaning back in his chair, looked with anxious appeal towards -his wife. She rose and kissed him, saying, God bless you, Caleb! Our -children have a good father. - -But she went out and had a hearty cry to make up for the suppression of -her words. She felt sure that her husbands conduct would be -misunderstood, and about Fred she was rational and unhopeful. Which -would turn out to have the more foresight in ither rationality or -Calebs ardent generosity? - -When Fred went to the office the next morning, there was a test to be -gone through which he was not prepared for. - -Now Fred, said Caleb, you will have some desk-work. I have always -done a good deal of writing myself, but I cant do without help, and as -I want you to understand the accounts and get the values into your -head, I mean to do without another clerk. So you must buckle to. How -are you at writing and arithmetic? - -Fred felt an awkward movement of the heart; he had not thought of -desk-work; but he was in a resolute mood, and not going to shrink. Im -not afraid of arithmetic, Mr. Garth: it always came easily to me. I -think you know my writing. - -Let us see, said Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and -handing it, well dipped, to Fred with a sheet of ruled paper. Copy me -a line or two of that valuation, with the figures at the end. - -At that time the opinion existed that it was beneath a gentleman to -write legibly, or with a hand in the least suitable to a clerk. Fred -wrote the lines demanded in a hand as gentlemanly as that of any -viscount or bishop of the day: the vowels were all alike and the -consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, the strokes had -a blotted solidity and the letters disdained to keep the linein short, -it was a manuscript of that venerable kind easy to interpret when you -know beforehand what the writer means. - -As Caleb looked on, his visage showed a growing depression, but when -Fred handed him the paper he gave something like a snarl, and rapped -the paper passionately with the back of his hand. Bad work like this -dispelled all Calebs mildness. - -The deuce! he exclaimed, snarlingly. To think that this is a country -where a mans education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and it turns -you out this! Then in a more pathetic tone, pushing up his spectacles -and looking at the unfortunate scribe, The Lord have mercy on us, -Fred, I cant put up with this! - -What can I do, Mr. Garth? said Fred, whose spirits had sunk very low, -not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision of -himself as liable to be ranked with office clerks. - -Do? Why, you must learn to form your letters and keep the line. Whats -the use of writing at all if nobody can understand it? asked Caleb, -energetically, quite preoccupied with the bad quality of the work. Is -there so little business in the world that you must be sending puzzles -over the country? But thats the way people are brought up. I should -lose no end of time with the letters some people send me, if Susan did -not make them out for me. Its disgusting. Here Caleb tossed the paper -from him. - -Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might have wondered -what was the drama between the indignant man of business, and the -fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather -patchy as he bit his lip with mortification. Fred was struggling with -many thoughts. Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at the -beginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had been -at a high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate. He had not thought -of desk-workin fact, like the majority of young gentlemen, he wanted -an occupation which should be free from disagreeables. I cannot tell -what might have been the consequences if he had not distinctly promised -himself that he would go to Lowick to see Mary and tell her that he was -engaged to work under her father. He did not like to disappoint himself -there. - -I am very sorry, were all the words that he could muster. But Mr. -Garth was already relenting. - -We must make the best of it, Fred, he began, with a return to his -usual quiet tone. Every man can learn to write. I taught myself. Go at -it with a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isnt enough. Well -be patient, my boy. Callum shall go on with the books for a bit, while -you are learning. But now I must be off, said Caleb, rising. You must -let your father know our agreement. Youll save me Callums salary, you -know, when you can write; and I can afford to give you eighty pounds -for the first year, and more after. - -When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relative -effect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into his -memory. He went straight from Mr. Garths office to the warehouse, -rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behave -to his father was to make the painful communication as gravely and -formally as possible. Moreover, the decision would be more certainly -understood to be final, if the interview took place in his fathers -gravest hours, which were always those spent in his private room at the -warehouse. - -Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what he had -done and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret that he -should be the cause of disappointment to his father, and taking the -blame on his own deficiencies. The regret was genuine, and inspired -Fred with strong, simple words. - -Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an -exclamation, a silence which in his impatient temperament was a sign of -unusual emotion. He had not been in good spirits about trade that -morning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense as he -listened. When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly a minute, -during which Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned the key -emphatically. Then he looked at his son steadily, and said - -So youve made up your mind at last, sir? - -Yes, father. - -Very well; stick to it. Ive no more to say. Youve thrown away your -education, and gone down a step in life, when I had given you the means -of rising, thats all. - -I am very sorry that we differ, father. I think I can be quite as much -of a gentleman at the work I have undertaken, as if I had been a -curate. But I am grateful to you for wishing to do the best for me. - -Very well; I have no more to say. I wash my hands of you. I only hope, -when you have a son of your own he will make a better return for the -pains you spend on him. - -This was very cutting to Fred. His father was using that unfair -advantage possessed by us all when we are in a pathetic situation and -see our own past as if it were simply part of the pathos. In reality, -Mr. Vincys wishes about his son had had a great deal of pride, -inconsiderateness, and egoistic folly in them. But still the -disappointed father held a strong lever; and Fred felt as if he were -being banished with a malediction. - -I hope you will not object to my remaining at home, sir? he said, -after rising to go; I shall have a sufficient salary to pay for my -board, as of course I should wish to do. - -Board be hanged! said Mr. Vincy, recovering himself in his disgust at -the notion that Freds keep would be missed at his table. Of course -your mother will want you to stay. But I shall keep no horse for you, -you understand; and you will pay your own tailor. You will do with a -suit or two less, I fancy, when you have to pay for em. - -Fred lingered; there was still something to be said. At last it came. - -I hope you will shake hands with me, father, and forgive me the -vexation I have caused you. - -Mr. Vincy from his chair threw a quick glance upward at his son, who -had advanced near to him, and then gave his hand, saying hurriedly, -Yes, yes, let us say no more. - -Fred went through much more narrative and explanation with his mother, -but she was inconsolable, having before her eyes what perhaps her -husband had never thought of, the certainty that Fred would marry Mary -Garth, that her life would henceforth be spoiled by a perpetual -infusion of Garths and their ways, and that her darling boy, with his -beautiful face and stylish air beyond anybody elses son in -Middlemarch, would be sure to get like that family in plainness of -appearance and carelessness about his clothes. To her it seemed that -there was a Garth conspiracy to get possession of the desirable Fred, -but she dared not enlarge on this opinion, because a slight hint of it -had made him fly out at her as he had never done before. Her temper -was too sweet for her to show any anger, but she felt that her -happiness had received a bruise, and for several days merely to look at -Fred made her cry a little as if he were the subject of some baleful -prophecy. Perhaps she was the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness -because Fred had warned her that she must not reopen the sore question -with his father, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him. If her -husband had been vehement against Fred, she would have been urged into -defence of her darling. It was the end of the fourth day when Mr. Vincy -said to her - -Come, Lucy, my dear, dont be so down-hearted. You always have spoiled -the boy, and you must go on spoiling him. - -Nothing ever did cut me so before, Vincy, said the wife, her fair -throat and chin beginning to tremble again, only his illness. - -Pooh, pooh, never mind! We must expect to have trouble with our -children. Dont make it worse by letting me see you out of spirits. - -Well, I wont, said Mrs. Vincy, roused by this appeal and adjusting -herself with a little shake as of a bird which lays down its ruffled -plumage. - -It wont do to begin making a fuss about one, said Mr. Vincy, wishing -to combine a little grumbling with domestic cheerfulness. Theres -Rosamond as well as Fred. - -Yes, poor thing. Im sure I felt for her being disappointed of her -baby; but she got over it nicely. - -Baby, pooh! I can see Lydgate is making a mess of his practice, and -getting into debt too, by what I hear. I shall have Rosamond coming to -me with a pretty tale one of these days. But theyll get no money from -me, I know. Let _his_ family help him. I never did like that marriage. -But its no use talking. Ring the bell for lemons, and dont look dull -any more, Lucy. Ill drive you and Louisa to Riverston to-morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. - -They numbered scarce eight summers when a name - Rose on their souls and stirred such motions there -As thrill the buds and shape their hidden frame - At penetration of the quickening air: -His name who told of loyal Evan Dhu, - Of quaint Bradwardine, and Vich Ian Vor, -Making the little world their childhood knew - Large with a land of mountain lake and scaur, -And larger yet with wonder, love, belief - Toward Walter Scott who living far away -Sent them this wealth of joy and noble grief. - The book and they must part, but day by day, - In lines that thwart like portly spiders ran - They wrote the tale, from Tully Veolan. - - -The evening that Fred Vincy walked to Lowick parsonage (he had begun to -see that this was a world in which even a spirited young man must -sometimes walk for want of a horse to carry him) he set out at five -oclock and called on Mrs. Garth by the way, wishing to assure himself -that she accepted their new relations willingly. - -He found the family group, dogs and cats included, under the great -apple-tree in the orchard. It was a festival with Mrs. Garth, for her -eldest son, Christy, her peculiar joy and pride, had come home for a -short holidayChristy, who held it the most desirable thing in the -world to be a tutor, to study all literatures and be a regenerate -Porson, and who was an incorporate criticism on poor Fred, a sort of -object-lesson given to him by the educational mother. Christy himself, -a square-browed, broad-shouldered masculine edition of his mother not -much higher than Freds shoulderwhich made it the harder that he -should be held superiorwas always as simple as possible, and thought -no more of Freds disinclination to scholarship than of a giraffes, -wishing that he himself were more of the same height. He was lying on -the ground now by his mothers chair, with his straw hat laid flat over -his eyes, while Jim on the other side was reading aloud from that -beloved writer who has made a chief part in the happiness of many young -lives. The volume was Ivanhoe, and Jim was in the great archery scene -at the tournament, but suffered much interruption from Ben, who had -fetched his own old bow and arrows, and was making himself dreadfully -disagreeable, Letty thought, by begging all present to observe his -random shots, which no one wished to do except Brownie, the -active-minded but probably shallow mongrel, while the grizzled -Newfoundland lying in the sun looked on with the dull-eyed neutrality -of extreme old age. Letty herself, showing as to her mouth and pinafore -some slight signs that she had been assisting at the gathering of the -cherries which stood in a coral-heap on the tea-table, was now seated -on the grass, listening open-eyed to the reading. - -But the centre of interest was changed for all by the arrival of Fred -Vincy. When, seating himself on a garden-stool, he said that he was on -his way to Lowick Parsonage, Ben, who had thrown down his bow, and -snatched up a reluctant half-grown kitten instead, strode across Freds -outstretched leg, and said Take me! - -Oh, and me too, said Letty. - -You cant keep up with Fred and me, said Ben. - -Yes, I can. Mother, please say that I am to go, urged Letty, whose -life was much checkered by resistance to her depreciation as a girl. - -I shall stay with Christy, observed Jim; as much as to say that he -had the advantage of those simpletons; whereupon Letty put her hand up -to her head and looked with jealous indecision from the one to the -other. - -Let us all go and see Mary, said Christy, opening his arms. - -No, my dear child, we must not go in a swarm to the parsonage. And -that old Glasgow suit of yours would never do. Besides, your father -will come home. We must let Fred go alone. He can tell Mary that you -are here, and she will come back to-morrow. - -Christy glanced at his own threadbare knees, and then at Freds -beautiful white trousers. Certainly Freds tailoring suggested the -advantages of an English university, and he had a graceful way even of -looking warm and of pushing his hair back with his handkerchief. - -Children, run away, said Mrs. Garth; it is too warm to hang about -your friends. Take your brother and show him the rabbits. - -The eldest understood, and led off the children immediately. Fred felt -that Mrs. Garth wished to give him an opportunity of saying anything he -had to say, but he could only begin by observing - -How glad you must be to have Christy here! - -Yes; he has come sooner than I expected. He got down from the coach at -nine oclock, just after his father went out. I am longing for Caleb to -come and hear what wonderful progress Christy is making. He has paid -his expenses for the last year by giving lessons, carrying on hard -study at the same time. He hopes soon to get a private tutorship and go -abroad. - -He is a great fellow, said Fred, to whom these cheerful truths had a -medicinal taste, and no trouble to anybody. After a slight pause, he -added, But I fear you will think that I am going to be a great deal of -trouble to Mr. Garth. - -Caleb likes taking trouble: he is one of those men who always do more -than any one would have thought of asking them to do, answered Mrs. -Garth. She was knitting, and could either look at Fred or not, as she -chosealways an advantage when one is bent on loading speech with -salutary meaning; and though Mrs. Garth intended to be duly reserved, -she did wish to say something that Fred might be the better for. - -I know you think me very undeserving, Mrs. Garth, and with good -reason, said Fred, his spirit rising a little at the perception of -something like a disposition to lecture him. I happen to have behaved -just the worst to the people I cant help wishing for the most from. -But while two men like Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother have not given me -up, I dont see why I should give myself up. Fred thought it might be -well to suggest these masculine examples to Mrs. Garth. - -Assuredly, said she, with gathering emphasis. A young man for whom -two such elders had devoted themselves would indeed be culpable if he -threw himself away and made their sacrifices vain. - -Fred wondered a little at this strong language, but only said, I hope -it will not be so with me, Mrs. Garth, since I have some encouragement -to believe that I may win Mary. Mr. Garth has told you about that? You -were not surprised, I dare say? Fred ended, innocently referring only -to his own love as probably evident enough. - -Not surprised that Mary has given you encouragement? returned Mrs. -Garth, who thought it would be well for Fred to be more alive to the -fact that Marys friends could not possibly have wished this -beforehand, whatever the Vincys might suppose. Yes, I confess I was -surprised. - -She never did give me anynot the least in the world, when I talked to -her myself, said Fred, eager to vindicate Mary. But when I asked Mr. -Farebrother to speak for me, she allowed him to tell me there was a -hope. - -The power of admonition which had begun to stir in Mrs. Garth had not -yet discharged itself. It was a little too provoking even for _her_ -self-control that this blooming youngster should flourish on the -disappointments of sadder and wiser peoplemaking a meal of a -nightingale and never knowing itand that all the while his family -should suppose that hers was in eager need of this sprig; and her -vexation had fermented the more actively because of its total -repression towards her husband. Exemplary wives will sometimes find -scapegoats in this way. She now said with energetic decision, You made -a great mistake, Fred, in asking Mr. Farebrother to speak for you. - -Did I? said Fred, reddening instantaneously. He was alarmed, but at a -loss to know what Mrs. Garth meant, and added, in an apologetic tone, -Mr. Farebrother has always been such a friend of ours; and Mary, I -knew, would listen to him gravely; and he took it on himself quite -readily. - -Yes, young people are usually blind to everything but their own -wishes, and seldom imagine how much those wishes cost others, said -Mrs. Garth. She did not mean to go beyond this salutary general -doctrine, and threw her indignation into a needless unwinding of her -worsted, knitting her brow at it with a grand air. - -I cannot conceive how it could be any pain to Mr. Farebrother, said -Fred, who nevertheless felt that surprising conceptions were beginning -to form themselves. - -Precisely; you cannot conceive, said Mrs. Garth, cutting her words as -neatly as possible. - -For a moment Fred looked at the horizon with a dismayed anxiety, and -then turning with a quick movement said almost sharply - -Do you mean to say, Mrs. Garth, that Mr. Farebrother is in love with -Mary? - -And if it were so, Fred, I think you are the last person who ought to -be surprised, returned Mrs. Garth, laying her knitting down beside her -and folding her arms. It was an unwonted sign of emotion in her that -she should put her work out of her hands. In fact her feelings were -divided between the satisfaction of giving Fred his discipline and the -sense of having gone a little too far. Fred took his hat and stick and -rose quickly. - -Then you think I am standing in his way, and in Marys too? he said, -in a tone which seemed to demand an answer. - -Mrs. Garth could not speak immediately. She had brought herself into -the unpleasant position of being called on to say what she really felt, -yet what she knew there were strong reasons for concealing. And to her -the consciousness of having exceeded in words was peculiarly -mortifying. Besides, Fred had given out unexpected electricity, and he -now added, Mr. Garth seemed pleased that Mary should be attached to -me. He could not have known anything of this. - -Mrs. Garth felt a severe twinge at this mention of her husband, the -fear that Caleb might think her in the wrong not being easily -endurable. She answered, wanting to check unintended consequences - -I spoke from inference only. I am not aware that Mary knows anything -of the matter. - -But she hesitated to beg that he would keep entire silence on a subject -which she had herself unnecessarily mentioned, not being used to stoop -in that way; and while she was hesitating there was already a rush of -unintended consequences under the apple-tree where the tea-things -stood. Ben, bouncing across the grass with Brownie at his heels, and -seeing the kitten dragging the knitting by a lengthening line of wool, -shouted and clapped his hands; Brownie barked, the kitten, desperate, -jumped on the tea-table and upset the milk, then jumped down again and -swept half the cherries with it; and Ben, snatching up the half-knitted -sock-top, fitted it over the kittens head as a new source of madness, -while Letty arriving cried out to her mother against this crueltyit -was a history as full of sensation as This is the house that Jack -built. Mrs. Garth was obliged to interfere, the other young ones came -up and the _tte--tte_ with Fred was ended. He got away as soon as he -could, and Mrs. Garth could only imply some retractation of her -severity by saying God bless you when she shook hands with him. - -She was unpleasantly conscious that she had been on the verge of -speaking as one of the foolish women speakethtelling first and -entreating silence after. But she had not entreated silence, and to -prevent Calebs blame she determined to blame herself and confess all -to him that very night. It was curious what an awful tribunal the mild -Calebs was to her, whenever he set it up. But she meant to point out -to him that the revelation might do Fred Vincy a great deal of good. - -No doubt it was having a strong effect on him as he walked to Lowick. -Freds light hopeful nature had perhaps never had so much of a bruise -as from this suggestion that if he had been out of the way Mary might -have made a thoroughly good match. Also he was piqued that he had been -what he called such a stupid lout as to ask that intervention from Mr. -Farebrother. But it was not in a lovers natureit was not in Freds, -that the new anxiety raised about Marys feeling should not surmount -every other. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Farebrothers generosity, -notwithstanding what Mary had said to him, Fred could not help feeling -that he had a rival: it was a new consciousness, and he objected to it -extremely, not being in the least ready to give up Mary for her good, -being ready rather to fight for her with any man whatsoever. But the -fighting with Mr. Farebrother must be of a metaphorical kind, which was -much more difficult to Fred than the muscular. Certainly this -experience was a discipline for Fred hardly less sharp than his -disappointment about his uncles will. The iron had not entered into -his soul, but he had begun to imagine what the sharp edge would be. It -did not once occur to Fred that Mrs. Garth might be mistaken about Mr. -Farebrother, but he suspected that she might be wrong about Mary. Mary -had been staying at the parsonage lately, and her mother might know -very little of what had been passing in her mind. - -He did not feel easier when he found her looking cheerful with the -three ladies in the drawing-room. They were in animated discussion on -some subject which was dropped when he entered, and Mary was copying -the labels from a heap of shallow cabinet drawers, in a minute -handwriting which she was skilled in. Mr. Farebrother was somewhere in -the village, and the three ladies knew nothing of Freds peculiar -relation to Mary: it was impossible for either of them to propose that -they should walk round the garden, and Fred predicted to himself that -he should have to go away without saying a word to her in private. He -told her first of Christys arrival and then of his own engagement with -her father; and he was comforted by seeing that this latter news -touched her keenly. She said hurriedly, I am so glad, and then bent -over her writing to hinder any one from noticing her face. But here was -a subject which Mrs. Farebrother could not let pass. - -You dont mean, my dear Miss Garth, that you are glad to hear of a -young man giving up the Church for which he was educated: you only mean -that things being so, you are glad that he should be under an excellent -man like your father. - -No, really, Mrs. Farebrother, I am glad of both, I fear, said Mary, -cleverly getting rid of one rebellious tear. I have a dreadfully -secular mind. I never liked any clergyman except the Vicar of Wakefield -and Mr. Farebrother. - -Now why, my dear? said Mrs. Farebrother, pausing on her large wooden -knitting-needles and looking at Mary. You have always a good reason -for your opinions, but this astonishes me. Of course I put out of the -question those who preach new doctrine. But why should you dislike -clergymen? - -Oh dear, said Mary, her face breaking into merriment as she seemed to -consider a moment, I dont like their neckcloths. - -Why, you dont like Camdens, then, said Miss Winifred, in some -anxiety. - -Yes, I do, said Mary. I dont like the other clergymens neckcloths, -because it is they who wear them. - -How very puzzling! said Miss Noble, feeling that her own intellect -was probably deficient. - -My dear, you are joking. You would have better reasons than these for -slighting so respectable a class of men, said Mrs. Farebrother, -majestically. - -Miss Garth has such severe notions of what people should be that it is -difficult to satisfy her, said Fred. - -Well, I am glad at least that she makes an exception in favor of my -son, said the old lady. - -Mary was wondering at Freds piqued tone, when Mr. Farebrother came in -and had to hear the news about the engagement under Mr. Garth. At the -end he said with quiet satisfaction, _That_ is right; and then bent -to look at Marys labels and praise her handwriting. Fred felt horribly -jealouswas glad, of course, that Mr. Farebrother was so estimable, but -wished that he had been ugly and fat as men at forty sometimes are. It -was clear what the end would be, since Mary openly placed Farebrother -above everybody, and these women were all evidently encouraging the -affair. He was feeling sure that he should have no chance of speaking -to Mary, when Mr. Farebrother said - -Fred, help me to carry these drawers back into my studyyou have never -seen my fine new study. Pray come too, Miss Garth. I want you to see a -stupendous spider I found this morning. - -Mary at once saw the Vicars intention. He had never since the -memorable evening deviated from his old pastoral kindness towards her, -and her momentary wonder and doubt had quite gone to sleep. Mary was -accustomed to think rather rigorously of what was probable, and if a -belief flattered her vanity she felt warned to dismiss it as -ridiculous, having early had much exercise in such dismissals. It was -as she had foreseen: when Fred had been asked to admire the fittings of -the study, and she had been asked to admire the spider, Mr. Farebrother -said - -Wait here a minute or two. I am going to look out an engraving which -Fred is tall enough to hang for me. I shall be back in a few minutes. -And then he went out. Nevertheless, the first word Fred said to Mary -was - -It is of no use, whatever I do, Mary. You are sure to marry -Farebrother at last. There was some rage in his tone. - -What do you mean, Fred? Mary exclaimed indignantly, blushing deeply, -and surprised out of all her readiness in reply. - -It is impossible that you should not see it all clearly enoughyou who -see everything. - -I only see that you are behaving very ill, Fred, in speaking so of Mr. -Farebrother after he has pleaded your cause in every way. How can you -have taken up such an idea? - -Fred was rather deep, in spite of his irritation. If Mary had really -been unsuspicious, there was no good in telling her what Mrs. Garth had -said. - -It follows as a matter of course, he replied. When you are -continually seeing a man who beats me in everything, and whom you set -up above everybody, I can have no fair chance. - -You are very ungrateful, Fred, said Mary. I wish I had never told -Mr. Farebrother that I cared for you in the least. - -No, I am not ungrateful; I should be the happiest fellow in the world -if it were not for this. I told your father everything, and he was very -kind; he treated me as if I were his son. I could go at the work with a -will, writing and everything, if it were not for this. - -For this? for what? said Mary, imagining now that something specific -must have been said or done. - -This dreadful certainty that I shall be bowled out by Farebrother. -Mary was appeased by her inclination to laugh. - -Fred, she said, peeping round to catch his eyes, which were sulkily -turned away from her, you are too delightfully ridiculous. If you were -not such a charming simpleton, what a temptation this would be to play -the wicked coquette, and let you suppose that somebody besides you has -made love to me. - -Do you really like me best, Mary? said Fred, turning eyes full of -affection on her, and trying to take her hand. - -I dont like you at all at this moment, said Mary, retreating, and -putting her hands behind her. I only said that no mortal ever made -love to me besides you. And that is no argument that a very wise man -ever will, she ended, merrily. - -I wish you would tell me that you could not possibly ever think of -him, said Fred. - -Never dare to mention this any more to me, Fred, said Mary, getting -serious again. I dont know whether it is more stupid or ungenerous in -you not to see that Mr. Farebrother has left us together on purpose -that we might speak freely. I am disappointed that you should be so -blind to his delicate feeling. - -There was no time to say any more before Mr. Farebrother came back with -the engraving; and Fred had to return to the drawing-room still with a -jealous dread in his heart, but yet with comforting arguments from -Marys words and manner. The result of the conversation was on the -whole more painful to Mary: inevitably her attention had taken a new -attitude, and she saw the possibility of new interpretations. She was -in a position in which she seemed to herself to be slighting Mr. -Farebrother, and this, in relation to a man who is much honored, is -always dangerous to the firmness of a grateful woman. To have a reason -for going home the next day was a relief, for Mary earnestly desired to -be always clear that she loved Fred best. When a tender affection has -been storing itself in us through many of our years, the idea that we -could accept any exchange for it seems to be a cheapening of our lives. -And we can set a watch over our affections and our constancy as we can -over other treasures. - -Fred has lost all his other expectations; he must keep this, Mary -said to herself, with a smile curling her lips. It was impossible to -help fleeting visions of another kindnew dignities and an acknowledged -value of which she had often felt the absence. But these things with -Fred outside them, Fred forsaken and looking sad for the want of her, -could never tempt her deliberate thought. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. - -For there can live no hatred in thine eye, -Therefore in that I cannot know thy change: -In manys looks the false hearts history -Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange: -But Heaven in thy creation did decree -That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell: -Whateer thy thoughts or thy hearts workings be -Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. -SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. - - -At the time when Mr. Vincy uttered that presentiment about Rosamond, -she herself had never had the idea that she should be driven to make -the sort of appeal which he foresaw. She had not yet had any anxiety -about ways and means, although her domestic life had been expensive as -well as eventful. Her baby had been born prematurely, and all the -embroidered robes and caps had to be laid by in darkness. This -misfortune was attributed entirely to her having persisted in going out -on horseback one day when her husband had desired her not to do so; but -it must not be supposed that she had shown temper on the occasion, or -rudely told him that she would do as she liked. - -What led her particularly to desire horse-exercise was a visit from -Captain Lydgate, the baronets third son, who, I am sorry to say, was -detested by our Tertius of that name as a vapid fop parting his hair -from brow to nape in a despicable fashion (not followed by Tertius -himself), and showing an ignorant security that he knew the proper -thing to say on every topic. Lydgate inwardly cursed his own folly that -he had drawn down this visit by consenting to go to his uncles on the -wedding-tour, and he made himself rather disagreeable to Rosamond by -saying so in private. For to Rosamond this visit was a source of -unprecedented but gracefully concealed exultation. She was so intensely -conscious of having a cousin who was a baronets son staying in the -house, that she imagined the knowledge of what was implied by his -presence to be diffused through all other minds; and when she -introduced Captain Lydgate to her guests, she had a placid sense that -his rank penetrated them as if it had been an odor. The satisfaction -was enough for the time to melt away some disappointment in the -conditions of marriage with a medical man even of good birth: it seemed -now that her marriage was visibly as well as ideally floating her above -the Middlemarch level, and the future looked bright with letters and -visits to and from Quallingham, and vague advancement in consequence -for Tertius. Especially as, probably at the Captains suggestion, his -married sister, Mrs. Mengan, had come with her maid, and stayed two -nights on her way from town. Hence it was clearly worth while for -Rosamond to take pains with her music and the careful selection of her -lace. - -As to Captain Lydgate himself, his low brow, his aquiline nose bent on -one side, and his rather heavy utterance, might have been -disadvantageous in any young gentleman who had not a military bearing -and mustache to give him what is doted on by some flower-like blond -heads as style. He had, moreover, that sort of high-breeding which -consists in being free from the petty solicitudes of middle-class -gentility, and he was a great critic of feminine charms. Rosamond -delighted in his admiration now even more than she had done at -Quallingham, and he found it easy to spend several hours of the day in -flirting with her. The visit altogether was one of the pleasantest -larks he had ever had, not the less so perhaps because he suspected -that his queer cousin Tertius wished him away: though Lydgate, who -would rather (hyperbolically speaking) have died than have failed in -polite hospitality, suppressed his dislike, and only pretended -generally not to hear what the gallant officer said, consigning the -task of answering him to Rosamond. For he was not at all a jealous -husband, and preferred leaving a feather-headed young gentleman alone -with his wife to bearing him company. - -I wish you would talk more to the Captain at dinner, Tertius, said -Rosamond, one evening when the important guest was gone to Loamford to -see some brother officers stationed there. You really look so absent -sometimesyou seem to be seeing through his head into something behind -it, instead of looking at him. - -My dear Rosy, you dont expect me to talk much to such a conceited ass -as that, I hope, said Lydgate, brusquely. If he got his head broken, -I might look at it with interest, not before. - -I cannot conceive why you should speak of your cousin so -contemptuously, said Rosamond, her fingers moving at her work while -she spoke with a mild gravity which had a touch of disdain in it. - -Ask Ladislaw if he doesnt think your Captain the greatest bore he -ever met with. Ladislaw has almost forsaken the house since he came. - -Rosamond thought she knew perfectly well why Mr. Ladislaw disliked the -Captain: he was jealous, and she liked his being jealous. - -It is impossible to say what will suit eccentric persons, she -answered, but in my opinion Captain Lydgate is a thorough gentleman, -and I think you ought not, out of respect to Sir Godwin, to treat him -with neglect. - -No, dear; but we have had dinners for him. And he comes in and goes -out as he likes. He doesnt want me. - -Still, when he is in the room, you might show him more attention. He -may not be a phoenix of cleverness in your sense; his profession is -different; but it would be all the better for you to talk a little on -his subjects. _I_ think his conversation is quite agreeable. And he is -anything but an unprincipled man. - -The fact is, you would wish me to be a little more like him, Rosy, -said Lydgate, in a sort of resigned murmur, with a smile which was not -exactly tender, and certainly not merry. Rosamond was silent and did -not smile again; but the lovely curves of her face looked good-tempered -enough without smiling. - -Those words of Lydgates were like a sad milestone marking how far he -had travelled from his old dreamland, in which Rosamond Vincy appeared -to be that perfect piece of womanhood who would reverence her husbands -mind after the fashion of an accomplished mermaid, using her comb and -looking-glass and singing her song for the relaxation of his adored -wisdom alone. He had begun to distinguish between that imagined -adoration and the attraction towards a mans talent because it gives -him prestige, and is like an order in his button-hole or an Honorable -before his name. - -It might have been supposed that Rosamond had travelled too, since she -had found the pointless conversation of Mr. Ned Plymdale perfectly -wearisome; but to most mortals there is a stupidity which is -unendurable and a stupidity which is altogether acceptableelse, -indeed, what would become of social bonds? Captain Lydgates stupidity -was delicately scented, carried itself with style, talked with a good -accent, and was closely related to Sir Godwin. Rosamond found it quite -agreeable and caught many of its phrases. - -Therefore since Rosamond, as we know, was fond of horseback, there were -plenty of reasons why she should be tempted to resume her riding when -Captain Lydgate, who had ordered his man with two horses to follow him -and put up at the Green Dragon, begged her to go out on the gray -which he warranted to be gentle and trained to carry a ladyindeed, he -had bought it for his sister, and was taking it to Quallingham. -Rosamond went out the first time without telling her husband, and came -back before his return; but the ride had been so thorough a success, -and she declared herself so much the better in consequence, that he was -informed of it with full reliance on his consent that she should go -riding again. - -On the contrary Lydgate was more than hurthe was utterly confounded -that she had risked herself on a strange horse without referring the -matter to his wish. After the first almost thundering exclamations of -astonishment, which sufficiently warned Rosamond of what was coming, he -was silent for some moments. - -However, you have come back safely, he said, at last, in a decisive -tone. You will not go again, Rosy; that is understood. If it were the -quietest, most familiar horse in the world, there would always be the -chance of accident. And you know very well that I wished you to give up -riding the roan on that account. - -But there is the chance of accident indoors, Tertius. - -My darling, dont talk nonsense, said Lydgate, in an imploring tone; -surely I am the person to judge for you. I think it is enough that I -say you are not to go again. - -Rosamond was arranging her hair before dinner, and the reflection of -her head in the glass showed no change in its loveliness except a -little turning aside of the long neck. Lydgate had been moving about -with his hands in his pockets, and now paused near her, as if he -awaited some assurance. - -I wish you would fasten up my plaits, dear, said Rosamond, letting -her arms fall with a little sigh, so as to make a husband ashamed of -standing there like a brute. Lydgate had often fastened the plaits -before, being among the deftest of men with his large finely formed -fingers. He swept up the soft festoons of plaits and fastened in the -tall comb (to such uses do men come!); and what could he do then but -kiss the exquisite nape which was shown in all its delicate curves? But -when we do what we have done before, it is often with a difference. -Lydgate was still angry, and had not forgotten his point. - -I shall tell the Captain that he ought to have known better than offer -you his horse, he said, as he moved away. - -I beg you will not do anything of the kind, Tertius, said Rosamond, -looking at him with something more marked than usual in her speech. It -will be treating me as if I were a child. Promise that you will leave -the subject to me. - -There did seem to be some truth in her objection. Lydgate said, Very -well, with a surly obedience, and thus the discussion ended with his -promising Rosamond, and not with her promising him. - -In fact, she had been determined not to promise. Rosamond had that -victorious obstinacy which never wastes its energy in impetuous -resistance. What she liked to do was to her the right thing, and all -her cleverness was directed to getting the means of doing it. She meant -to go out riding again on the gray, and she did go on the next -opportunity of her husbands absence, not intending that he should know -until it was late enough not to signify to her. The temptation was -certainly great: she was very fond of the exercise, and the -gratification of riding on a fine horse, with Captain Lydgate, Sir -Godwins son, on another fine horse by her side, and of being met in -this position by any one but her husband, was something as good as her -dreams before marriage: moreover she was riveting the connection with -the family at Quallingham, which must be a wise thing to do. - -But the gentle gray, unprepared for the crash of a tree that was being -felled on the edge of Halsell wood, took fright, and caused a worse -fright to Rosamond, leading finally to the loss of her baby. Lydgate -could not show his anger towards her, but he was rather bearish to the -Captain, whose visit naturally soon came to an end. - -In all future conversations on the subject, Rosamond was mildly certain -that the ride had made no difference, and that if she had stayed at -home the same symptoms would have come on and would have ended in the -same way, because she had felt something like them before. - -Lydgate could only say, Poor, poor darling!but he secretly wondered -over the terrible tenacity of this mild creature. There was gathering -within him an amazed sense of his powerlessness over Rosamond. His -superior knowledge and mental force, instead of being, as he had -imagined, a shrine to consult on all occasions, was simply set aside on -every practical question. He had regarded Rosamonds cleverness as -precisely of the receptive kind which became a woman. He was now -beginning to find out what that cleverness waswhat was the shape into -which it had run as into a close network aloof and independent. No one -quicker than Rosamond to see causes and effects which lay within the -track of her own tastes and interests: she had seen clearly Lydgates -preeminence in Middlemarch society, and could go on imaginatively -tracing still more agreeable social effects when his talent should have -advanced him; but for her, his professional and scientific ambition had -no other relation to these desirable effects than if they had been the -fortunate discovery of an ill-smelling oil. And that oil apart, with -which she had nothing to do, of course she believed in her own opinion -more than she did in his. Lydgate was astounded to find in numberless -trifling matters, as well as in this last serious case of the riding, -that affection did not make her compliant. He had no doubt that the -affection was there, and had no presentiment that he had done anything -to repel it. For his own part he said to himself that he loved her as -tenderly as ever, and could make up his mind to her negations; -butwell! Lydgate was much worried, and conscious of new elements in -his life as noxious to him as an inlet of mud to a creature that has -been used to breathe and bathe and dart after its illuminated prey in -the clearest of waters. - -Rosamond was soon looking lovelier than ever at her worktable, enjoying -drives in her fathers phaeton and thinking it likely that she might be -invited to Quallingham. She knew that she was a much more exquisite -ornament to the drawing-room there than any daughter of the family, and -in reflecting that the gentlemen were aware of that, did not perhaps -sufficiently consider whether the ladies would be eager to see -themselves surpassed. - -Lydgate, relieved from anxiety about her, relapsed into what she -inwardly called his moodinessa name which to her covered his -thoughtful preoccupation with other subjects than herself, as well as -that uneasy look of the brow and distaste for all ordinary things as if -they were mixed with bitter herbs, which really made a sort of -weather-glass to his vexation and foreboding. These latter states of -mind had one cause amongst others, which he had generously but -mistakenly avoided mentioning to Rosamond, lest it should affect her -health and spirits. Between him and her indeed there was that total -missing of each others mental track, which is too evidently possible -even between persons who are continually thinking of each other. To -Lydgate it seemed that he had been spending month after month in -sacrificing more than half of his best intent and best power to his -tenderness for Rosamond; bearing her little claims and interruptions -without impatience, and, above all, bearing without betrayal of -bitterness to look through less and less of interfering illusion at the -blank unreflecting surface her mind presented to his ardor for the more -impersonal ends of his profession and his scientific study, an ardor -which he had fancied that the ideal wife must somehow worship as -sublime, though not in the least knowing why. But his endurance was -mingled with a self-discontent which, if we know how to be candid, we -shall confess to make more than half our bitterness under grievances, -wife or husband included. It always remains true that if we had been -greater, circumstance would have been less strong against us. Lydgate -was aware that his concessions to Rosamond were often little more than -the lapse of slackening resolution, the creeping paralysis apt to seize -an enthusiasm which is out of adjustment to a constant portion of our -lives. And on Lydgates enthusiasm there was constantly pressing not a -simple weight of sorrow, but the biting presence of a petty degrading -care, such as casts the blight of irony over all higher effort. - -This was the care which he had hitherto abstained from mentioning to -Rosamond; and he believed, with some wonder, that it had never entered -her mind, though certainly no difficulty could be less mysterious. It -was an inference with a conspicuous handle to it, and had been easily -drawn by indifferent observers, that Lydgate was in debt; and he could -not succeed in keeping out of his mind for long together that he was -every day getting deeper into that swamp, which tempts men towards it -with such a pretty covering of flowers and verdure. It is wonderful how -soon a man gets up to his chin therein a condition in which, in spite -of himself, he is forced to think chiefly of release, though he had a -scheme of the universe in his soul. - -Eighteen months ago Lydgate was poor, but had never known the eager -want of small sums, and felt rather a burning contempt for any one who -descended a step in order to gain them. He was now experiencing -something worse than a simple deficit: he was assailed by the vulgar -hateful trials of a man who has bought and used a great many things -which might have been done without, and which he is unable to pay for, -though the demand for payment has become pressing. - -How this came about may be easily seen without much arithmetic or -knowledge of prices. When a man in setting up a house and preparing for -marriage finds that his furniture and other initial expenses come to -between four and five hundred pounds more than he has capital to pay -for; when at the end of a year it appears that his household expenses, -horses and et caeteras, amount to nearly a thousand, while the proceeds -of the practice reckoned from the old books to be worth eight hundred -per annum have sunk like a summer pond and make hardly five hundred, -chiefly in unpaid entries, the plain inference is that, whether he -minds it or not, he is in debt. Those were less expensive times than -our own, and provincial life was comparatively modest; but the ease -with which a medical man who had lately bought a practice, who thought -that he was obliged to keep two horses, whose table was supplied -without stint, and who paid an insurance on his life and a high rent -for house and garden, might find his expenses doubling his receipts, -can be conceived by any one who does not think these details beneath -his consideration. Rosamond, accustomed from her childhood to an -extravagant household, thought that good housekeeping consisted simply -in ordering the best of everythingnothing else answered; and Lydgate -supposed that if things were done at all, they must be done -properlyhe did not see how they were to live otherwise. If each head -of household expenditure had been mentioned to him beforehand, he would -have probably observed that it could hardly come to much, and if any -one had suggested a saving on a particular articlefor example, the -substitution of cheap fish for dearit would have appeared to him -simply a penny-wise, mean notion. Rosamond, even without such an -occasion as Captain Lydgates visit, was fond of giving invitations, -and Lydgate, though he often thought the guests tiresome, did not -interfere. This sociability seemed a necessary part of professional -prudence, and the entertainment must be suitable. It is true Lydgate -was constantly visiting the homes of the poor and adjusting his -prescriptions of diet to their small means; but, dear me! has it not by -this time ceased to be remarkableis it not rather that we expect in -men, that they should have numerous strands of experience lying side by -side and never compare them with each other? Expenditurelike ugliness -and errorsbecomes a totally new thing when we attach our own -personality to it, and measure it by that wide difference which is -manifest (in our own sensations) between ourselves and others. Lydgate -believed himself to be careless about his dress, and he despised a man -who calculated the effects of his costume; it seemed to him only a -matter of course that he had abundance of fresh garmentssuch things -were naturally ordered in sheaves. It must be remembered that he had -never hitherto felt the check of importunate debt, and he walked by -habit, not by self-criticism. But the check had come. - -Its novelty made it the more irritating. He was amazed, disgusted that -conditions so foreign to all his purposes, so hatefully disconnected -with the objects he cared to occupy himself with, should have lain in -ambush and clutched him when he was unaware. And there was not only the -actual debt; there was the certainty that in his present position he -must go on deepening it. Two furnishing tradesmen at Brassing, whose -bills had been incurred before his marriage, and whom uncalculated -current expenses had ever since prevented him from paying, had -repeatedly sent him unpleasant letters which had forced themselves on -his attention. This could hardly have been more galling to any -disposition than to Lydgates, with his intense pridehis dislike of -asking a favor or being under an obligation to any one. He had scorned -even to form conjectures about Mr. Vincys intentions on money matters, -and nothing but extremity could have induced him to apply to his -father-in-law, even if he had not been made aware in various indirect -ways since his marriage that Mr. Vincys own affairs were not -flourishing, and that the expectation of help from him would be -resented. Some men easily trust in the readiness of friends; it had -never in the former part of his life occurred to Lydgate that he should -need to do so: he had never thought what borrowing would be to him; but -now that the idea had entered his mind, he felt that he would rather -incur any other hardship. In the mean time he had no money or prospects -of money; and his practice was not getting more lucrative. - -No wonder that Lydgate had been unable to suppress all signs of inward -trouble during the last few months, and now that Rosamond was regaining -brilliant health, he meditated taking her entirely into confidence on -his difficulties. New conversance with tradesmens bills had forced his -reasoning into a new channel of comparison: he had begun to consider -from a new point of view what was necessary and unnecessary in goods -ordered, and to see that there must be some change of habits. How could -such a change be made without Rosamonds concurrence? The immediate -occasion of opening the disagreeable fact to her was forced upon him. - -Having no money, and having privately sought advice as to what security -could possibly be given by a man in his position, Lydgate had offered -the one good security in his power to the less peremptory creditor, who -was a silversmith and jeweller, and who consented to take on himself -the upholsterers credit also, accepting interest for a given term. The -security necessary was a bill of sale on the furniture of his house, -which might make a creditor easy for a reasonable time about a debt -amounting to less than four hundred pounds; and the silversmith, Mr. -Dover, was willing to reduce it by taking back a portion of the plate -and any other article which was as good as new. Any other article was -a phrase delicately implying jewellery, and more particularly some -purple amethysts costing thirty pounds, which Lydgate had bought as a -bridal present. - -Opinions may be divided as to his wisdom in making this present: some -may think that it was a graceful attention to be expected from a man -like Lydgate, and that the fault of any troublesome consequences lay in -the pinched narrowness of provincial life at that time, which offered -no conveniences for professional people whose fortune was not -proportioned to their tastes; also, in Lydgates ridiculous -fastidiousness about asking his friends for money. - -However, it had seemed a question of no moment to him on that fine -morning when he went to give a final order for plate: in the presence -of other jewels enormously expensive, and as an addition to orders of -which the amount had not been exactly calculated, thirty pounds for -ornaments so exquisitely suited to Rosamonds neck and arms could -hardly appear excessive when there was no ready cash for it to exceed. -But at this crisis Lydgates imagination could not help dwelling on the -possibility of letting the amethysts take their place again among Mr. -Dovers stock, though he shrank from the idea of proposing this to -Rosamond. Having been roused to discern consequences which he had never -been in the habit of tracing, he was preparing to act on this -discernment with some of the rigor (by no means all) that he would have -applied in pursuing experiment. He was nerving himself to this rigor as -he rode from Brassing, and meditated on the representations he must -make to Rosamond. - -It was evening when he got home. He was intensely miserable, this -strong man of nine-and-twenty and of many gifts. He was not saying -angrily within himself that he had made a profound mistake; but the -mistake was at work in him like a recognized chronic disease, mingling -its uneasy importunities with every prospect, and enfeebling every -thought. As he went along the passage to the drawing-room, he heard the -piano and singing. Of course, Ladislaw was there. It was some weeks -since Will had parted from Dorothea, yet he was still at the old post -in Middlemarch. Lydgate had no objection in general to Ladislaws -coming, but just now he was annoyed that he could not find his hearth -free. When he opened the door the two singers went on towards the -key-note, raising their eyes and looking at him indeed, but not -regarding his entrance as an interruption. To a man galled with his -harness as poor Lydgate was, it is not soothing to see two people -warbling at him, as he comes in with the sense that the painful day has -still pains in store. His face, already paler than usual, took on a -scowl as he walked across the room and flung himself into a chair. - -The singers feeling themselves excused by the fact that they had only -three bars to sing, now turned round. - -How are you, Lydgate? said Will, coming forward to shake hands. - -Lydgate took his hand, but did not think it necessary to speak. - -Have you dined, Tertius? I expected you much earlier, said Rosamond, -who had already seen that her husband was in a horrible humor. She -seated herself in her usual place as she spoke. - -I have dined. I should like some tea, please, said Lydgate, curtly, -still scowling and looking markedly at his legs stretched out before -him. - -Will was too quick to need more. I shall be off, he said, reaching -his hat. - -Tea is coming, said Rosamond; pray dont go. - -Yes, Lydgate is bored, said Will, who had more comprehension of -Lydgate than Rosamond had, and was not offended by his manner, easily -imagining outdoor causes of annoyance. - -There is the more need for you to stay, said Rosamond, playfully, and -in her lightest accent; he will not speak to me all the evening. - -Yes, Rosamond, I shall, said Lydgate, in his strong baritone. I have -some serious business to speak to you about. - -No introduction of the business could have been less like that which -Lydgate had intended; but her indifferent manner had been too -provoking. - -There! you see, said Will. Im going to the meeting about the -Mechanics Institute. Good-by; and he went quickly out of the room. - -Rosamond did not look at her husband, but presently rose and took her -place before the tea-tray. She was thinking that she had never seen him -so disagreeable. Lydgate turned his dark eyes on her and watched her as -she delicately handled the tea-service with her taper fingers, and -looked at the objects immediately before her with no curve in her face -disturbed, and yet with an ineffable protest in her air against all -people with unpleasant manners. For the moment he lost the sense of his -wound in a sudden speculation about this new form of feminine -impassibility revealing itself in the sylph-like frame which he had -once interpreted as the sign of a ready intelligent sensitiveness. His -mind glancing back to Laure while he looked at Rosamond, he said -inwardly, Would _she_ kill me because I wearied her? and then, It is -the way with all women. But this power of generalizing which gives men -so much the superiority in mistake over the dumb animals, was -immediately thwarted by Lydgates memory of wondering impressions from -the behavior of another womanfrom Dorotheas looks and tones of -emotion about her husband when Lydgate began to attend himfrom her -passionate cry to be taught what would best comfort that man for whose -sake it seemed as if she must quell every impulse in her except the -yearnings of faithfulness and compassion. These revived impressions -succeeded each other quickly and dreamily in Lydgates mind while the -tea was being brewed. He had shut his eyes in the last instant of -reverie while he heard Dorothea saying, Advise methink what I can -dohe has been all his life laboring and looking forward. He minds -about nothing elseand I mind about nothing else. - -That voice of deep-souled womanhood had remained within him as the -enkindling conceptions of dead and sceptred genius had remained within -him (is there not a genius for feeling nobly which also reigns over -human spirits and their conclusions?); the tones were a music from -which he was falling awayhe had really fallen into a momentary doze, -when Rosamond said in her silvery neutral way, Here is your tea, -Tertius, setting it on the small table by his side, and then moved -back to her place without looking at him. Lydgate was too hasty in -attributing insensibility to her; after her own fashion, she was -sensitive enough, and took lasting impressions. Her impression now was -one of offence and repulsion. But then, Rosamond had no scowls and had -never raised her voice: she was quite sure that no one could justly -find fault with her. - -Perhaps Lydgate and she had never felt so far off each other before; -but there were strong reasons for not deferring his revelation, even if -he had not already begun it by that abrupt announcement; indeed some of -the angry desire to rouse her into more sensibility on his account -which had prompted him to speak prematurely, still mingled with his -pain in the prospect of her pain. But he waited till the tray was gone, -the candles were lit, and the evening quiet might be counted on: the -interval had left time for repelled tenderness to return into the old -course. He spoke kindly. - -Dear Rosy, lay down your work and come to sit by me, he said, gently, -pushing away the table, and stretching out his arm to draw a chair near -his own. - -Rosamond obeyed. As she came towards him in her drapery of transparent -faintly tinted muslin, her slim yet round figure never looked more -graceful; as she sat down by him and laid one hand on the elbow of his -chair, at last looking at him and meeting his eyes, her delicate neck -and cheek and purely cut lips never had more of that untarnished beauty -which touches as in spring-time and infancy and all sweet freshness. It -touched Lydgate now, and mingled the early moments of his love for her -with all the other memories which were stirred in this crisis of deep -trouble. He laid his ample hand softly on hers, saying - -Dear! with the lingering utterance which affection gives to the word. -Rosamond too was still under the power of that same past, and her -husband was still in part the Lydgate whose approval had stirred -delight. She put his hair lightly away from his forehead, then laid her -other hand on his, and was conscious of forgiving him. - -I am obliged to tell you what will hurt you, Rosy. But there are -things which husband and wife must think of together. I dare say it has -occurred to you already that I am short of money. - -Lydgate paused; but Rosamond turned her neck and looked at a vase on -the mantel-piece. - -I was not able to pay for all the things we had to get before we were -married, and there have been expenses since which I have been obliged -to meet. The consequence is, there is a large debt at Brassingthree -hundred and eighty poundswhich has been pressing on me a good while, -and in fact we are getting deeper every day, for people dont pay me -the faster because others want the money. I took pains to keep it from -you while you were not well; but now we must think together about it, -and you must help me. - -What can _I_ do, Tertius? said Rosamond, turning her eyes on him -again. That little speech of four words, like so many others in all -languages, is capable by varied vocal inflections of expressing all -states of mind from helpless dimness to exhaustive argumentative -perception, from the completest self-devoting fellowship to the most -neutral aloofness. Rosamonds thin utterance threw into the words What -canIdo! as much neutrality as they could hold. They fell like a -mortal chill on Lydgates roused tenderness. He did not storm in -indignationhe felt too sad a sinking of the heart. And when he spoke -again it was more in the tone of a man who forces himself to fulfil a -task. - -It is necessary for you to know, because I have to give security for a -time, and a man must come to make an inventory of the furniture. - -Rosamond colored deeply. Have you not asked papa for money? she said, -as soon as she could speak. - -No. - -Then I must ask him! she said, releasing her hands from Lydgates, -and rising to stand at two yards distance from him. - -No, Rosy, said Lydgate, decisively. It is too late to do that. The -inventory will be begun to-morrow. Remember it is a mere security: it -will make no difference: it is a temporary affair. I insist upon it -that your father shall not know, unless I choose to tell him, added -Lydgate, with a more peremptory emphasis. - -This certainly was unkind, but Rosamond had thrown him back on evil -expectation as to what she would do in the way of quiet steady -disobedience. The unkindness seemed unpardonable to her: she was not -given to weeping and disliked it, but now her chin and lips began to -tremble and the tears welled up. Perhaps it was not possible for -Lydgate, under the double stress of outward material difficulty and of -his own proud resistance to humiliating consequences, to imagine fully -what this sudden trial was to a young creature who had known nothing -but indulgence, and whose dreams had all been of new indulgence, more -exactly to her taste. But he did wish to spare her as much as he could, -and her tears cut him to the heart. He could not speak again -immediately; but Rosamond did not go on sobbing: she tried to conquer -her agitation and wiped away her tears, continuing to look before her -at the mantel-piece. - -Try not to grieve, darling, said Lydgate, turning his eyes up towards -her. That she had chosen to move away from him in this moment of her -trouble made everything harder to say, but he must absolutely go on. -We must brace ourselves to do what is necessary. It is I who have been -in fault: I ought to have seen that I could not afford to live in this -way. But many things have told against me in my practice, and it really -just now has ebbed to a low point. I may recover it, but in the mean -time we must pull upwe must change our way of living. We shall weather -it. When I have given this security I shall have time to look about me; -and you are so clever that if you turn your mind to managing you will -school me into carefulness. I have been a thoughtless rascal about -squaring pricesbut come, dear, sit down and forgive me. - -Lydgate was bowing his neck under the yoke like a creature who had -talons, but who had Reason too, which often reduces us to meekness. -When he had spoken the last words in an imploring tone, Rosamond -returned to the chair by his side. His self-blame gave her some hope -that he would attend to her opinion, and she said - -Why can you not put off having the inventory made? You can send the -men away to-morrow when they come. - -I shall not send them away, said Lydgate, the peremptoriness rising -again. Was it of any use to explain? - -If we left Middlemarch? there would of course be a sale, and that -would do as well. - -But we are not going to leave Middlemarch. - -I am sure, Tertius, it would be much better to do so. Why can we not -go to London? Or near Durham, where your family is known? - -We can go nowhere without money, Rosamond. - -Your friends would not wish you to be without money. And surely these -odious tradesmen might be made to understand that, and to wait, if you -would make proper representations to them. - -This is idle Rosamond, said Lydgate, angrily. You must learn to take -my judgment on questions you dont understand. I have made necessary -arrangements, and they must be carried out. As to friends, I have no -expectations whatever from them, and shall not ask them for anything. - -Rosamond sat perfectly still. The thought in her mind was that if she -had known how Lydgate would behave, she would never have married him. - -We have no time to waste now on unnecessary words, dear, said -Lydgate, trying to be gentle again. There are some details that I want -to consider with you. Dover says he will take a good deal of the plate -back again, and any of the jewellery we like. He really behaves very -well. - -Are we to go without spoons and forks then? said Rosamond, whose very -lips seemed to get thinner with the thinness of her utterance. She was -determined to make no further resistance or suggestions. - -Oh no, dear! said Lydgate. But look here, he continued, drawing a -paper from his pocket and opening it; here is Dovers account. See, I -have marked a number of articles, which if we returned them would -reduce the amount by thirty pounds and more. I have not marked any of -the jewellery. Lydgate had really felt this point of the jewellery -very bitter to himself; but he had overcome the feeling by severe -argument. He could not propose to Rosamond that she should return any -particular present of his, but he had told himself that he was bound to -put Dovers offer before her, and her inward prompting might make the -affair easy. - -It is useless for me to look, Tertius, said Rosamond, calmly; you -will return what you please. She would not turn her eyes on the paper, -and Lydgate, flushing up to the roots of his hair, drew it back and let -it fall on his knee. Meanwhile Rosamond quietly went out of the room, -leaving Lydgate helpless and wondering. Was she not coming back? It -seemed that she had no more identified herself with him than if they -had been creatures of different species and opposing interests. He -tossed his head and thrust his hands deep into his pockets with a sort -of vengeance. There was still sciencethere were still good objects to -work for. He must give a tug stillall the stronger because other -satisfactions were going. - -But the door opened and Rosamond re-entered. She carried the leather -box containing the amethysts, and a tiny ornamental basket which -contained other boxes, and laying them on the chair where she had been -sitting, she said, with perfect propriety in her air - -This is all the jewellery you ever gave me. You can return what you -like of it, and of the plate also. You will not, of course, expect me -to stay at home to-morrow. I shall go to papas. - -To many women the look Lydgate cast at her would have been more -terrible than one of anger: it had in it a despairing acceptance of the -distance she was placing between them. - -And when shall you come back again? he said, with a bitter edge on -his accent. - -Oh, in the evening. Of course I shall not mention the subject to -mamma. Rosamond was convinced that no woman could behave more -irreproachably than she was behaving; and she went to sit down at her -work-table. Lydgate sat meditating a minute or two, and the result was -that he said, with some of the old emotion in his tone - -Now we have been united, Rosy, you should not leave me to myself in -the first trouble that has come. - -Certainly not, said Rosamond; I shall do everything it becomes me to -do. - -It is not right that the thing should be left to servants, or that I -should have to speak to them about it. And I shall be obliged to go -outI dont know how early. I understand your shrinking from the -humiliation of these money affairs. But, my dear Rosamond, as a -question of pride, which I feel just as much as you can, it is surely -better to manage the thing ourselves, and let the servants see as -little of it as possible; and since you are my wife, there is no -hindering your share in my disgracesif there were disgraces. - -Rosamond did not answer immediately, but at last she said, Very well, -I will stay at home. - -I shall not touch these jewels, Rosy. Take them away again. But I will -write out a list of plate that we may return, and that can be packed up -and sent at once. - -The servants will know _that_, said Rosamond, with the slightest -touch of sarcasm. - -Well, we must meet some disagreeables as necessities. Where is the -ink, I wonder? said Lydgate, rising, and throwing the account on the -larger table where he meant to write. - -Rosamond went to reach the inkstand, and after setting it on the table -was going to turn away, when Lydgate, who was standing close by, put -his arm round her and drew her towards him, saying - -Come, darling, let us make the best of things. It will only be for a -time, I hope, that we shall have to be stingy and particular. Kiss me. - -His native warm-heartedness took a great deal of quenching, and it is a -part of manliness for a husband to feel keenly the fact that an -inexperienced girl has got into trouble by marrying him. She received -his kiss and returned it faintly, and in this way an appearance of -accord was recovered for the time. But Lydgate could not help looking -forward with dread to the inevitable future discussions about -expenditure and the necessity for a complete change in their way of -living. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. - -They said of old the Soul had human shape, -But smaller, subtler than the fleshly self, -So wandered forth for airing when it pleased. -And see! beside her cherub-face there floats -A pale-lipped form aerial whispering -Its promptings in that little shell her ear. - - -News is often dispersed as thoughtlessly and effectively as that pollen -which the bees carry off (having no idea how powdery they are) when -they are buzzing in search of their particular nectar. This fine -comparison has reference to Fred Vincy, who on that evening at Lowick -Parsonage heard a lively discussion among the ladies on the news which -their old servant had got from Tantripp concerning Mr. Casaubons -strange mention of Mr. Ladislaw in a codicil to his will made not long -before his death. Miss Winifred was astounded to find that her brother -had known the fact before, and observed that Camden was the most -wonderful man for knowing things and not telling them; whereupon Mary -Garth said that the codicil had perhaps got mixed up with the habits of -spiders, which Miss Winifred never would listen to. Mrs. Farebrother -considered that the news had something to do with their having only -once seen Mr. Ladislaw at Lowick, and Miss Noble made many small -compassionate mewings. - -Fred knew little and cared less about Ladislaw and the Casaubons, and -his mind never recurred to that discussion till one day calling on -Rosamond at his mothers request to deliver a message as he passed, he -happened to see Ladislaw going away. Fred and Rosamond had little to -say to each other now that marriage had removed her from collision with -the unpleasantness of brothers, and especially now that he had taken -what she held the stupid and even reprehensible step of giving up the -Church to take to such a business as Mr. Garths. Hence Fred talked by -preference of what he considered indifferent news, and a propos of -that young Ladislaw mentioned what he had heard at Lowick Parsonage. - -Now Lydgate, like Mr. Farebrother, knew a great deal more than he told, -and when he had once been set thinking about the relation between Will -and Dorothea his conjectures had gone beyond the fact. He imagined that -there was a passionate attachment on both sides, and this struck him as -much too serious to gossip about. He remembered Wills irritability -when he had mentioned Mrs. Casaubon, and was the more circumspect. On -the whole his surmises, in addition to what he knew of the fact, -increased his friendliness and tolerance towards Ladislaw, and made him -understand the vacillation which kept him at Middlemarch after he had -said that he should go away. It was significant of the separateness -between Lydgates mind and Rosamonds that he had no impulse to speak -to her on the subject; indeed, he did not quite trust her reticence -towards Will. And he was right there; though he had no vision of the -way in which her mind would act in urging her to speak. - -When she repeated Freds news to Lydgate, he said, Take care you dont -drop the faintest hint to Ladislaw, Rosy. He is likely to fly out as if -you insulted him. Of course it is a painful affair. - -Rosamond turned her neck and patted her hair, looking the image of -placid indifference. But the next time Will came when Lydgate was away, -she spoke archly about his not going to London as he had threatened. - -I know all about it. I have a confidential little bird, said she, -showing very pretty airs of her head over the bit of work held high -between her active fingers. There is a powerful magnet in this -neighborhood. - -To be sure there is. Nobody knows that better than you, said Will, -with light gallantry, but inwardly prepared to be angry. - -It is really the most charming romance: Mr. Casaubon jealous, and -foreseeing that there was no one else whom Mrs. Casaubon would so much -like to marry, and no one who would so much like to marry her as a -certain gentleman; and then laying a plan to spoil all by making her -forfeit her property if she did marry that gentlemanand thenand -thenand thenoh, I have no doubt the end will be thoroughly romantic. - -Great God! what do you mean? said Will, flushing over face and ears, -his features seeming to change as if he had had a violent shake. Dont -joke; tell me what you mean. - -You dont really know? said Rosamond, no longer playful, and desiring -nothing better than to tell in order that she might evoke effects. - -No! he returned, impatiently. - -Dont know that Mr. Casaubon has left it in his will that if Mrs. -Casaubon marries you she is to forfeit all her property? - -How do you know that it is true? said Will, eagerly. - -My brother Fred heard it from the Farebrothers. Will started up from -his chair and reached his hat. - -I dare say she likes you better than the property, said Rosamond, -looking at him from a distance. - -Pray dont say any more about it, said Will, in a hoarse undertone -extremely unlike his usual light voice. It is a foul insult to her and -to me. Then he sat down absently, looking before him, but seeing -nothing. - -Now you are angry with _me_, said Rosamond. It is too bad to bear -_me_ malice. You ought to be obliged to me for telling you. - -So I am, said Will, abruptly, speaking with that kind of double soul -which belongs to dreamers who answer questions. - -I expect to hear of the marriage, said Rosamond, playfully. - -Never! You will never hear of the marriage! - -With those words uttered impetuously, Will rose, put out his hand to -Rosamond, still with the air of a somnambulist, and went away. - -When he was gone, Rosamond left her chair and walked to the other end -of the room, leaning when she got there against a chiffonniere, and -looking out of the window wearily. She was oppressed by ennui, and by -that dissatisfaction which in womens minds is continually turning into -a trivial jealousy, referring to no real claims, springing from no -deeper passion than the vague exactingness of egoism, and yet capable -of impelling action as well as speech. There really is nothing to care -for much, said poor Rosamond inwardly, thinking of the family at -Quallingham, who did not write to her; and that perhaps Tertius when he -came home would tease her about expenses. She had already secretly -disobeyed him by asking her father to help them, and he had ended -decisively by saying, I am more likely to want help myself. - - - - -CHAPTER LX. - -Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. -_Justice Shallow_. - - -A few days afterwardsit was already the end of Augustthere was an -occasion which caused some excitement in Middlemarch: the public, if it -chose, was to have the advantage of buying, under the distinguished -auspices of Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, the furniture, books, and pictures -which anybody might see by the handbills to be the best in every kind, -belonging to Edwin Larcher, Esq. This was not one of the sales -indicating the depression of trade; on the contrary, it was due to Mr. -Larchers great success in the carrying business, which warranted his -purchase of a mansion near Riverston already furnished in high style by -an illustrious Spa physicianfurnished indeed with such large framefuls -of expensive flesh-painting in the dining-room, that Mrs. Larcher was -nervous until reassured by finding the subjects to be Scriptural. Hence -the fine opportunity to purchasers which was well pointed out in the -handbills of Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, whose acquaintance with the history -of art enabled him to state that the hall furniture, to be sold without -reserve, comprised a piece of carving by a contemporary of Gibbons. - -At Middlemarch in those times a large sale was regarded as a kind of -festival. There was a table spread with the best cold eatables, as at a -superior funeral; and facilities were offered for that -generous-drinking of cheerful glasses which might lead to generous and -cheerful bidding for undesirable articles. Mr. Larchers sale was the -more attractive in the fine weather because the house stood just at the -end of the town, with a garden and stables attached, in that pleasant -issue from Middlemarch called the London Road, which was also the road -to the New Hospital and to Mr. Bulstrodes retired residence, known as -the Shrubs. In short, the auction was as good as a fair, and drew all -classes with leisure at command: to some, who risked making bids in -order simply to raise prices, it was almost equal to betting at the -races. The second day, when the best furniture was to be sold, -everybody was there; even Mr. Thesiger, the rector of St. Peters, -had looked in for a short time, wishing to buy the carved table, and -had rubbed elbows with Mr. Bambridge and Mr. Horrock. There was a -wreath of Middlemarch ladies accommodated with seats round the large -table in the dining-room, where Mr. Borthrop Trumbull was mounted with -desk and hammer; but the rows chiefly of masculine faces behind were -often varied by incomings and outgoings both from the door and the -large bow-window opening on to the lawn. - -Everybody that day did not include Mr. Bulstrode, whose health could -not well endure crowds and draughts. But Mrs. Bulstrode had -particularly wished to have a certain picturea Supper at Emmaus, -attributed in the catalogue to Guido; and at the last moment before the -day of the sale Mr. Bulstrode had called at the office of the -Pioneer, of which he was now one of the proprietors, to beg of Mr. -Ladislaw as a great favor that he would obligingly use his remarkable -knowledge of pictures on behalf of Mrs. Bulstrode, and judge of the -value of this particular paintingif, added the scrupulously polite -banker, attendance at the sale would not interfere with the -arrangements for your departure, which I know is imminent. - -This proviso might have sounded rather satirically in Wills ear if he -had been in a mood to care about such satire. It referred to an -understanding entered into many weeks before with the proprietors of -the paper, that he should be at liberty any day he pleased to hand over -the management to the subeditor whom he had been training; since he -wished finally to quit Middlemarch. But indefinite visions of ambition -are weak against the ease of doing what is habitual or beguilingly -agreeable; and we all know the difficulty of carrying out a resolve -when we secretly long that it may turn out to be unnecessary. In such -states of mind the most incredulous person has a private leaning -towards miracle: impossible to conceive how our wish could be -fulfilled, stillvery wonderful things have happened! Will did not -confess this weakness to himself, but he lingered. What was the use of -going to London at that time of the year? The Rugby men who would -remember him were not there; and so far as political writing was -concerned, he would rather for a few weeks go on with the Pioneer. At -the present moment, however, when Mr. Bulstrode was speaking to him, he -had both a strengthened resolve to go and an equally strong resolve not -to go till he had once more seen Dorothea. Hence he replied that he had -reasons for deferring his departure a little, and would be happy to go -to the sale. - -Will was in a defiant mood, his consciousness being deeply stung with -the thought that the people who looked at him probably knew a fact -tantamount to an accusation against him as a fellow with low designs -which were to be frustrated by a disposal of property. Like most people -who assert their freedom with regard to conventional distinction, he -was prepared to be sudden and quick at quarrel with any one who might -hint that he had personal reasons for that assertionthat there was -anything in his blood, his bearing, or his character to which he gave -the mask of an opinion. When he was under an irritating impression of -this kind he would go about for days with a defiant look, the color -changing in his transparent skin as if he were on the _qui vive_, -watching for something which he had to dart upon. - -This expression was peculiarly noticeable in him at the sale, and those -who had only seen him in his moods of gentle oddity or of bright -enjoyment would have been struck with a contrast. He was not sorry to -have this occasion for appearing in public before the Middlemarch -tribes of Toller, Hackbutt, and the rest, who looked down on him as an -adventurer, and were in a state of brutal ignorance about Dantewho -sneered at his Polish blood, and were themselves of a breed very much -in need of crossing. He stood in a conspicuous place not far from the -auctioneer, with a fore-finger in each side-pocket and his head thrown -backward, not caring to speak to anybody, though he had been cordially -welcomed as a connoiss_ure_ by Mr. Trumbull, who was enjoying the -utmost activity of his great faculties. - -And surely among all men whose vocation requires them to exhibit their -powers of speech, the happiest is a prosperous provincial auctioneer -keenly alive to his own jokes and sensible of his encyclopedic -knowledge. Some saturnine, sour-blooded persons might object to be -constantly insisting on the merits of all articles from boot-jacks to -Berghems; but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull had a kindly liquid in his veins; -he was an admirer by nature, and would have liked to have the universe -under his hammer, feeling that it would go at a higher figure for his -recommendation. - -Meanwhile Mrs. Larchers drawing-room furniture was enough for him. -When Will Ladislaw had come in, a second fender, said to have been -forgotten in its right place, suddenly claimed the auctioneers -enthusiasm, which he distributed on the equitable principle of praising -those things most which were most in need of praise. The fender was of -polished steel, with much lancet-shaped open-work and a sharp edge. - -Now, ladies, said he, I shall appeal to you. Here is a fender which -at any other sale would hardly be offered with out reserve, being, as I -may say, for quality of steel and quaintness of design, a kind of -thinghere Mr. Trumbull dropped his voice and became slightly nasal, -trimming his outlines with his left fingerthat might not fall in with -ordinary tastes. Allow me to tell you that by-and-by this style of -workmanship will be the only one in voguehalf-a-crown, you said? thank -yougoing at half-a-crown, this characteristic fender; and I have -particular information that the antique style is very much sought after -in high quarters. Three shillingsthree-and-sixpencehold it well up, -Joseph! Look, ladies, at the chastity of the designI have no doubt -myself that it was turned out in the last century! Four shillings, Mr. -Mawmsey?four shillings. - -Its not a thing I would put in _my_ drawing-room, said Mrs. Mawmsey, -audibly, for the warning of the rash husband. I wonder _at_ Mrs. -Larcher. Every blessed childs head that fell against it would be cut -in two. The edge is like a knife. - -Quite true, rejoined Mr. Trumbull, quickly, and most uncommonly -useful to have a fender at hand that will cut, if you have a leather -shoe-tie or a bit of string that wants cutting and no knife at hand: -many a man has been left hanging because there was no knife to cut him -down. Gentlemen, heres a fender that if you had the misfortune to hang -yourselves would cut you down in no timewith astonishing -celerityfour-and-sixpencefivefive-and-sixpencean appropriate thing -for a spare bedroom where there was a four-poster and a guest a little -out of his mindsix shillingsthank you, Mr. Clintupgoing at six -shillingsgoinggone! The auctioneers glance, which had been -searching round him with a preternatural susceptibility to all signs of -bidding, here dropped on the paper before him, and his voice too -dropped into a tone of indifferent despatch as he said, Mr. Clintup. -Be handy, Joseph. - -It was worth six shillings to have a fender you could always tell that -joke on, said Mr. Clintup, laughing low and apologetically to his next -neighbor. He was a diffident though distinguished nurseryman, and -feared that the audience might regard his bid as a foolish one. - -Meanwhile Joseph had brought a trayful of small articles. Now, -ladies, said Mr. Trumbull, taking up one of the articles, this tray -contains a very recherchy lota collection of trifles for the -drawing-room tableand trifles make the sum _of_ human thingsnothing -more important than trifles(yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes, by-and-by)but -pass the tray round, Josephthese bijoux must be examined, ladies. This -I have in my hand is an ingenious contrivancea sort of practical -rebus, I may call it: here, you see, it looks like an elegant -heart-shaped box, portablefor the pocket; there, again, it becomes -like a splendid double floweran ornament for the table; and nowMr. -Trumbull allowed the flower to fall alarmingly into strings of -heart-shaped leavesa book of riddles! No less than five hundred -printed in a beautiful red. Gentlemen, if I had less of a conscience, I -should not wish you to bid high for this lotI have a longing for it -myself. What can promote innocent mirth, and I may say virtue, more -than a good riddle?it hinders profane language, and attaches a man to -the society of refined females. This ingenious article itself, without -the elegant domino-box, card-basket, &c., ought alone to give a high -price to the lot. Carried in the pocket it might make an individual -welcome in any society. Four shillings, sir?four shillings for this -remarkable collection of riddles with the et caeteras. Here is a -sample: How must you spell honey to make it catch lady-birds? -Answermoney. You hear?lady-birdshoney money. This is an amusement -to sharpen the intellect; it has a stingit has what we call satire, -and wit without indecency. Four-and-sixpencefive shillings. - -The bidding ran on with warming rivalry. Mr. Bowyer was a bidder, and -this was too exasperating. Bowyer couldnt afford it, and only wanted -to hinder every other man from making a figure. The current carried -even Mr. Horrock with it, but this committal of himself to an opinion -fell from him with so little sacrifice of his neutral expression, that -the bid might not have been detected as his but for the friendly oaths -of Mr. Bambridge, who wanted to know what Horrock would do with blasted -stuff only fit for haberdashers given over to that state of perdition -which the horse-dealer so cordially recognized in the majority of -earthly existences. The lot was finally knocked down at a guinea to Mr. -Spilkins, a young Slender of the neighborhood, who was reckless with -his pocket-money and felt his want of memory for riddles. - -Come, Trumbull, this is too badyouve been putting some old maids -rubbish into the sale, murmured Mr. Toller, getting close to the -auctioneer. I want to see how the prints go, and I must be off soon. - -_Im_mediately, Mr. Toller. It was only an act of benevolence which -your noble heart would approve. Joseph! quick with the printsLot 235. -Now, gentlemen, you who are connoiss_ures_, you are going to have a -treat. Here is an engraving of the Duke of Wellington surrounded by his -staff on the Field of Waterloo; and notwithstanding recent events which -have, as it were, enveloped our great Hero in a cloud, I will be bold -to sayfor a man in my line must not be blown about by political -windsthat a finer subjectof the modern order, belonging to our own -time and epochthe understanding of man could hardly conceive: angels -might, perhaps, but not men, sirs, not men. - -Who painted it? said Mr. Powderell, much impressed. - -It is a proof before the letter, Mr. Powderellthe painter is not -known, answered Trumbull, with a certain gaspingness in his last -words, after which he pursed up his lips and stared round him. - -Ill bid a pound! said Mr. Powderell, in a tone of resolved emotion, -as of a man ready to put himself in the breach. Whether from awe or -pity, nobody raised the price on him. - -Next came two Dutch prints which Mr. Toller had been eager for, and -after he had secured them he went away. Other prints, and afterwards -some paintings, were sold to leading Middlemarchers who had come with a -special desire for them, and there was a more active movement of the -audience in and out; some, who had bought what they wanted, going away, -others coming in either quite newly or from a temporary visit to the -refreshments which were spread under the marquee on the lawn. It was -this marquee that Mr. Bambridge was bent on buying, and he appeared to -like looking inside it frequently, as a foretaste of its possession. On -the last occasion of his return from it he was observed to bring with -him a new companion, a stranger to Mr. Trumbull and every one else, -whose appearance, however, led to the supposition that he might be a -relative of the horse-dealersalso given to indulgence. His large -whiskers, imposing swagger, and swing of the leg, made him a striking -figure; but his suit of black, rather shabby at the edges, caused the -prejudicial inference that he was not able to afford himself as much -indulgence as he liked. - -Who is it youve picked up, Bam? said Mr. Horrock, aside. - -Ask him yourself, returned Mr. Bambridge. He said hed just turned -in from the road. - -Mr. Horrock eyed the stranger, who was leaning back against his stick -with one hand, using his toothpick with the other, and looking about -him with a certain restlessness apparently under the silence imposed on -him by circumstances. - -At length the Supper at Emmaus was brought forward, to Wills immense -relief, for he was getting so tired of the proceedings that he had -drawn back a little and leaned his shoulder against the wall just -behind the auctioneer. He now came forward again, and his eye caught -the conspicuous stranger, who, rather to his surprise, was staring at -him markedly. But Will was immediately appealed to by Mr. Trumbull. - -Yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes; this interests you as a connoiss_ure_, I -think. It is some pleasure, the auctioneer went on with a rising -fervor, to have a picture like this to show to a company of ladies and -gentlemena picture worth any sum to an individual whose means were on -a level with his judgment. It is a painting of the Italian schoolby -the celebrated _Guydo_, the greatest painter in the world, the chief of -the Old Masters, as they are calledI take it, because they were up to -a thing or two beyond most of usin possession of secrets now lost to -the bulk of mankind. Let me tell you, gentlemen, I have seen a great -many pictures by the Old Masters, and they are not all up to this -marksome of them are darker than you might like and not family -subjects. But here is a _Guydo_the frame alone is worth poundswhich -any lady might be proud to hang upa suitable thing for what we call a -refectory in a charitable institution, if any gentleman of the -Corporation wished to show his munifi_cence_. Turn it a little, sir? -yes. Joseph, turn it a little towards Mr. LadislawMr. Ladislaw, having -been abroad, understands the merit of these things, you observe. - -All eyes were for a moment turned towards Will, who said, coolly, Five -pounds. The auctioneer burst out in deep remonstrance. - -Ah! Mr. Ladislaw! the frame alone is worth that. Ladies and gentlemen, -for the credit of the town! Suppose it should be discovered hereafter -that a gem of art has been amongst us in this town, and nobody in -Middlemarch awake to it. Five guineasfive seven-sixfive ten. Still, -ladies, still! It is a gem, and Full many a gem, as the poet says, -has been allowed to go at a nominal price because the public knew no -better, because it was offered in circles where there wasI was going -to say a low feeling, but no!Six poundssix guineasa _Guydo_ of the -first order going at six guineasit is an insult to religion, ladies; -it touches us all as Christians, gentlemen, that a subject like this -should go at such a low figuresix pounds tenseven - -The bidding was brisk, and Will continued to share in it, remembering -that Mrs. Bulstrode had a strong wish for the picture, and thinking -that he might stretch the price to twelve pounds. But it was knocked -down to him at ten guineas, whereupon he pushed his way towards the -bow-window and went out. He chose to go under the marquee to get a -glass of water, being hot and thirsty: it was empty of other visitors, -and he asked the woman in attendance to fetch him some fresh water; but -before she was well gone he was annoyed to see entering the florid -stranger who had stared at him. It struck Will at this moment that the -man might be one of those political parasitic insects of the bloated -kind who had once or twice claimed acquaintance with him as having -heard him speak on the Reform question, and who might think of getting -a shilling by news. In this light his person, already rather heating to -behold on a summers day, appeared the more disagreeable; and Will, -half-seated on the elbow of a garden-chair, turned his eyes carefully -away from the comer. But this signified little to our acquaintance Mr. -Raffles, who never hesitated to thrust himself on unwilling -observation, if it suited his purpose to do so. He moved a step or two -till he was in front of Will, and said with full-mouthed haste, Excuse -me, Mr. Ladislawwas your mothers name Sarah Dunkirk? - -Will, starting to his feet, moved backward a step, frowning, and saying -with some fierceness, Yes, sir, it was. And what is that to you? - -It was in Wills nature that the first spark it threw out was a direct -answer of the question and a challenge of the consequences. To have -said, What is that to you? in the first instance, would have seemed -like shufflingas if he minded who knew anything about his origin! - -Raffles on his side had not the same eagerness for a collision which -was implied in Ladislaws threatening air. The slim young fellow with -his girls complexion looked like a tiger-cat ready to spring on him. -Under such circumstances Mr. Raffless pleasure in annoying his company -was kept in abeyance. - -No offence, my good sir, no offence! I only remember your motherknew -her when she was a girl. But it is your father that you feature, sir. I -had the pleasure of seeing your father too. Parents alive, Mr. -Ladislaw? - -No! thundered Will, in the same attitude as before. - -Should be glad to do you a service, Mr. Ladislawby Jove, I should! -Hope to meet again. - -Hereupon Raffles, who had lifted his hat with the last words, turned -himself round with a swing of his leg and walked away. Will looked -after him a moment, and could see that he did not re-enter the -auction-room, but appeared to be walking towards the road. For an -instant he thought that he had been foolish not to let the man go on -talking;but no! on the whole he preferred doing without knowledge from -that source. - -Later in the evening, however, Raffles overtook him in the street, and -appearing either to have forgotten the roughness of his former -reception or to intend avenging it by a forgiving familiarity, greeted -him jovially and walked by his side, remarking at first on the -pleasantness of the town and neighborhood. Will suspected that the man -had been drinking and was considering how to shake him off when Raffles -said - -Ive been abroad myself, Mr. LadislawIve seen the worldused to -parley-vous a little. It was at Boulogne I saw your fathera most -uncommon likeness you are of him, by Jove! mouthnoseeyeshair turned -off your brow just like hisa little in the foreign style. John Bull -doesnt do much of that. But your father was very ill when I saw him. -Lord, lord! hands you might see through. You were a small youngster -then. Did he get well? - -No, said Will, curtly. - -Ah! Well! Ive often wondered what became of your mother. She ran away -from her friends when she was a young lassa proud-spirited lass, and -pretty, by Jove! I knew the reason why she ran away, said Raffles, -winking slowly as he looked sideways at Will. - -You know nothing dishonorable of her, sir, said Will, turning on him -rather savagely. But Mr. Raffles just now was not sensitive to shades -of manner. - -Not a bit! said he, tossing his head decisively. She was a little -too honorable to like her friendsthat was it! Here Raffles again -winked slowly. Lord bless you, I knew all about ema little in what -you may call the respectable thieving linethe high style of -receiving-housenone of your holes and cornersfirst-rate. Slap-up -shop, high profits and no mistake. But Lord! Sarah would have known -nothing about ita dashing young lady she wasfine boarding-schoolfit -for a lords wifeonly Archie Duncan threw it at her out of spite, -because she would have nothing to do with him. And so she ran away from -the whole concern. I travelled for em, sir, in a gentlemanly wayat a -high salary. They didnt mind her running away at firstgodly folks, -sir, very godlyand she was for the stage. The son was alive then, and -the daughter was at a discount. Hallo! here we are at the Blue Bull. -What do you say, Mr. Ladislaw?shall we turn in and have a glass? - -No, I must say good evening, said Will, dashing up a passage which -led into Lowick Gate, and almost running to get out of Raffless reach. - -He walked a long while on the Lowick road away from the town, glad of -the starlit darkness when it came. He felt as if he had had dirt cast -on him amidst shouts of scorn. There was this to confirm the fellows -statementthat his mother never would tell him the reason why she had -run away from her family. - -Well! what was he, Will Ladislaw, the worse, supposing the truth about -that family to be the ugliest? His mother had braved hardship in order -to separate herself from it. But if Dorotheas friends had known this -storyif the Chettams had known itthey would have had a fine color to -give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him unfit to come -near her. However, let them suspect what they pleased, they would find -themselves in the wrong. They would find out that the blood in his -veins was as free from the taint of meanness as theirs. - - - - -CHAPTER LXI. - -Inconsistencies, answered Imlac, cannot both be right, but imputed -to man they may both be true._Rasselas_. - - -The same night, when Mr. Bulstrode returned from a journey to Brassing -on business, his good wife met him in the entrance-hall and drew him -into his private sitting-room. - -Nicholas, she said, fixing her honest eyes upon him anxiously, there -has been such a disagreeable man here asking for youit has made me -quite uncomfortable. - -What kind of man, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, dreadfully certain of -the answer. - -A red-faced man with large whiskers, and most impudent in his manner. -He declared he was an old friend of yours, and said you would be sorry -not to see him. He wanted to wait for you here, but I told him he could -see you at the Bank to-morrow morning. Most impudent he was!stared at -me, and said his friend Nick had luck in wives. I dont believe he -would have gone away, if Blucher had not happened to break his chain -and come running round on the gravelfor I was in the garden; so I -said, Youd better go awaythe dog is very fierce, and I cant hold -him. Do you really know anything of such a man? - -I believe I know who he is, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, in his usual -subdued voice, an unfortunate dissolute wretch, whom I helped too much -in days gone by. However, I presume you will not be troubled by him -again. He will probably come to the Bankto beg, doubtless. - -No more was said on the subject until the next day, when Mr. Bulstrode -had returned from the town and was dressing for dinner. His wife, not -sure that he was come home, looked into his dressing-room and saw him -with his coat and cravat off, leaning one arm on a chest of drawers and -staring absently at the ground. He started nervously and looked up as -she entered. - -You look very ill, Nicholas. Is there anything the matter? - -I have a good deal of pain in my head, said Mr. Bulstrode, who was so -frequently ailing that his wife was always ready to believe in this -cause of depression. - -Sit down and let me sponge it with vinegar. - -Physically Mr. Bulstrode did not want the vinegar, but morally the -affectionate attention soothed him. Though always polite, it was his -habit to receive such services with marital coolness, as his wifes -duty. But to-day, while she was bending over him, he said, You are -very good, Harriet, in a tone which had something new in it to her -ear; she did not know exactly what the novelty was, but her womans -solicitude shaped itself into a darting thought that he might be going -to have an illness. - -Has anything worried you? she said. Did that man come to you at the -Bank? - -Yes; it was as I had supposed. He is a man who at one time might have -done better. But he has sunk into a drunken debauched creature. - -Is he quite gone away? said Mrs. Bulstrode, anxiously; but for -certain reasons she refrained from adding, It was very disagreeable to -hear him calling himself a friend of yours. At that moment she would -not have liked to say anything which implied her habitual consciousness -that her husbands earlier connections were not quite on a level with -her own. Not that she knew much about them. That her husband had at -first been employed in a bank, that he had afterwards entered into what -he called city business and gained a fortune before he was -three-and-thirty, that he had married a widow who was much older than -himselfa Dissenter, and in other ways probably of that disadvantageous -quality usually perceptible in a first wife if inquired into with the -dispassionate judgment of a secondwas almost as much as she had cared -to learn beyond the glimpses which Mr. Bulstrodes narrative -occasionally gave of his early bent towards religion, his inclination -to be a preacher, and his association with missionary and philanthropic -efforts. She believed in him as an excellent man whose piety carried a -peculiar eminence in belonging to a layman, whose influence had turned -her own mind toward seriousness, and whose share of perishable good had -been the means of raising her own position. But she also liked to think -that it was well in every sense for Mr. Bulstrode to have won the hand -of Harriet Vincy; whose family was undeniable in a Middlemarch lighta -better light surely than any thrown in London thoroughfares or -dissenting chapel-yards. The unreformed provincial mind distrusted -London; and while true religion was everywhere saving, honest Mrs. -Bulstrode was convinced that to be saved in the Church was more -respectable. She so much wished to ignore towards others that her -husband had ever been a London Dissenter, that she liked to keep it out -of sight even in talking to him. He was quite aware of this; indeed in -some respects he was rather afraid of this ingenuous wife, whose -imitative piety and native worldliness were equally sincere, who had -nothing to be ashamed of, and whom he had married out of a thorough -inclination still subsisting. But his fears were such as belong to a -man who cares to maintain his recognized supremacy: the loss of high -consideration from his wife, as from every one else who did not clearly -hate him out of enmity to the truth, would be as the beginning of death -to him. When she said - -Is he quite gone away? - -Oh, I trust so, he answered, with an effort to throw as much sober -unconcern into his tone as possible! - -But in truth Mr. Bulstrode was very far from a state of quiet trust. In -the interview at the Bank, Raffles had made it evident that his -eagerness to torment was almost as strong in him as any other greed. He -had frankly said that he had turned out of the way to come to -Middlemarch, just to look about him and see whether the neighborhood -would suit him to live in. He had certainly had a few debts to pay more -than he expected, but the two hundred pounds were not gone yet: a cool -five-and-twenty would suffice him to go away with for the present. What -he had wanted chiefly was to see his friend Nick and family, and know -all about the prosperity of a man to whom he was so much attached. -By-and-by he might come back for a longer stay. This time Raffles -declined to be seen off the premises, as he expressed itdeclined to -quit Middlemarch under Bulstrodes eyes. He meant to go by coach the -next dayif he chose. - -Bulstrode felt himself helpless. Neither threats nor coaxing could -avail: he could not count on any persistent fear nor on any promise. On -the contrary, he felt a cold certainty at his heart that Rafflesunless -providence sent death to hinder himwould come back to Middlemarch -before long. And that certainty was a terror. - -It was not that he was in danger of legal punishment or of beggary: he -was in danger only of seeing disclosed to the judgment of his neighbors -and the mournful perception of his wife certain facts of his past life -which would render him an object of scorn and an opprobrium of the -religion with which he had diligently associated himself. The terror of -being judged sharpens the memory: it sends an inevitable glare over -that long-unvisited past which has been habitually recalled only in -general phrases. Even without memory, the life is bound into one by a -zone of dependence in growth and decay; but intense memory forces a man -to own his blameworthy past. With memory set smarting like a reopened -wound, a mans past is not simply a dead history, an outworn -preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose -from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing -shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame. - -Into this second life Bulstrodes past had now risen, only the -pleasures of it seeming to have lost their quality. Night and day, -without interruption save of brief sleep which only wove retrospect and -fear into a fantastic present, he felt the scenes of his earlier life -coming between him and everything else, as obstinately as when we look -through the window from a lighted room, the objects we turn our backs -on are still before us, instead of the grass and the trees. The -successive events inward and outward were there in one view: though -each might be dwelt on in turn, the rest still kept their hold in the -consciousness. - -Once more he saw himself the young bankers clerk, with an agreeable -person, as clever in figures as he was fluent in speech and fond of -theological definition: an eminent though young member of a Calvinistic -dissenting church at Highbury, having had striking experience in -conviction of sin and sense of pardon. Again he heard himself called -for as Brother Bulstrode in prayer meetings, speaking on religious -platforms, preaching in private houses. Again he felt himself thinking -of the ministry as possibly his vocation, and inclined towards -missionary labor. That was the happiest time of his life: that was the -spot he would have chosen now to awake in and find the rest a dream. -The people among whom Brother Bulstrode was distinguished were very -few, but they were very near to him, and stirred his satisfaction the -more; his power stretched through a narrow space, but he felt its -effect the more intensely. He believed without effort in the peculiar -work of grace within him, and in the signs that God intended him for -special instrumentality. - -Then came the moment of transition; it was with the sense of promotion -he had when he, an orphan educated at a commercial charity-school, was -invited to a fine villa belonging to Mr. Dunkirk, the richest man in -the congregation. Soon he became an intimate there, honored for his -piety by the wife, marked out for his ability by the husband, whose -wealth was due to a flourishing city and west-end trade. That was the -setting-in of a new current for his ambition, directing his prospects -of instrumentality towards the uniting of distinguished religious -gifts with successful business. - -By-and-by came a decided external leading: a confidential subordinate -partner died, and nobody seemed to the principal so well fitted to fill -the severely felt vacancy as his young friend Bulstrode, if he would -become confidential accountant. The offer was accepted. The business -was a pawnbrokers, of the most magnificent sort both in extent and -profits; and on a short acquaintance with it Bulstrode became aware -that one source of magnificent profit was the easy reception of any -goods offered, without strict inquiry as to where they came from. But -there was a branch house at the west end, and no pettiness or dinginess -to give suggestions of shame. - -He remembered his first moments of shrinking. They were private, and -were filled with arguments; some of these taking the form of prayer. -The business was established and had old roots; is it not one thing to -set up a new gin-palace and another to accept an investment in an old -one? The profits made out of lost soulswhere can the line be drawn at -which they begin in human transactions? Was it not even Gods way of -saving His chosen? Thou knowest,the young Bulstrode had said then, -as the older Bulstrode was saying nowThou knowest how loose my soul -sits from these thingshow I view them all as implements for tilling -Thy garden rescued here and there from the wilderness. - -Metaphors and precedents were not wanting; peculiar spiritual -experiences were not wanting which at last made the retention of his -position seem a service demanded of him: the vista of a fortune had -already opened itself, and Bulstrodes shrinking remained private. Mr. -Dunkirk had never expected that there would be any shrinking at all: he -had never conceived that trade had anything to do with the scheme of -salvation. And it was true that Bulstrode found himself carrying on two -distinct lives; his religious activity could not be incompatible with -his business as soon as he had argued himself into not feeling it -incompatible. - -Mentally surrounded with that past again, Bulstrode had the same -pleasindeed, the years had been perpetually spinning them into -intricate thickness, like masses of spider-web, padding the moral -sensibility; nay, as age made egoism more eager but less enjoying, his -soul had become more saturated with the belief that he did everything -for Gods sake, being indifferent to it for his own. And yetif he -could be back in that far-off spot with his youthful povertywhy, then -he would choose to be a missionary. - -But the train of causes in which he had locked himself went on. There -was trouble in the fine villa at Highbury. Years before, the only -daughter had run away, defied her parents, and gone on the stage; and -now the only boy died, and after a short time Mr. Dunkirk died also. -The wife, a simple pious woman, left with all the wealth in and out of -the magnificent trade, of which she never knew the precise nature, had -come to believe in Bulstrode, and innocently adore him as women often -adore their priest or man-made minister. It was natural that after a -time marriage should have been thought of between them. But Mrs. -Dunkirk had qualms and yearnings about her daughter, who had long been -regarded as lost both to God and her parents. It was known that the -daughter had married, but she was utterly gone out of sight. The -mother, having lost her boy, imagined a grandson, and wished in a -double sense to reclaim her daughter. If she were found, there would be -a channel for propertyperhaps a wide onein the provision for several -grandchildren. Efforts to find her must be made before Mrs. Dunkirk -would marry again. Bulstrode concurred; but after advertisement as well -as other modes of inquiry had been tried, the mother believed that her -daughter was not to be found, and consented to marry without -reservation of property. - -The daughter had been found; but only one man besides Bulstrode knew -it, and he was paid for keeping silence and carrying himself away. - -That was the bare fact which Bulstrode was now forced to see in the -rigid outline with which acts present themselves to onlookers. But for -himself at that distant time, and even now in burning memory, the fact -was broken into little sequences, each justified as it came by -reasonings which seemed to prove it righteous. Bulstrodes course up to -that time had, he thought, been sanctioned by remarkable providences, -appearing to point the way for him to be the agent in making the best -use of a large property and withdrawing it from perversion. Death and -other striking dispositions, such as feminine trustfulness, had come; -and Bulstrode would have adopted Cromwells wordsDo you call these -bare events? The Lord pity you! The events were comparatively small, -but the essential condition was therenamely, that they were in favor -of his own ends. It was easy for him to settle what was due from him to -others by inquiring what were Gods intentions with regard to himself. -Could it be for Gods service that this fortune should in any -considerable proportion go to a young woman and her husband who were -given up to the lightest pursuits, and might scatter it abroad in -trivialitypeople who seemed to lie outside the path of remarkable -providences? Bulstrode had never said to himself beforehand, The -daughter shall not be foundnevertheless when the moment came he kept -her existence hidden; and when other moments followed, he soothed the -mother with consolation in the probability that the unhappy young woman -might be no more. - -There were hours in which Bulstrode felt that his action was -unrighteous; but how could he go back? He had mental exercises, called -himself nought, laid hold on redemption, and went on in his course of -instrumentality. And after five years Death again came to widen his -path, by taking away his wife. He did gradually withdraw his capital, -but he did not make the sacrifices requisite to put an end to the -business, which was carried on for thirteen years afterwards before it -finally collapsed. Meanwhile Nicholas Bulstrode had used his hundred -thousand discreetly, and was become provincially, solidly importanta -banker, a Churchman, a public benefactor; also a sleeping partner in -trading concerns, in which his ability was directed to economy in the -raw material, as in the case of the dyes which rotted Mr. Vincys silk. -And now, when this respectability had lasted undisturbed for nearly -thirty yearswhen all that preceded it had long lain benumbed in the -consciousnessthat past had risen and immersed his thought as if with -the terrible irruption of a new sense overburthening the feeble being. - -Meanwhile, in his conversation with Raffles, he had learned something -momentous, something which entered actively into the struggle of his -longings and terrors. There, he thought, lay an opening towards -spiritual, perhaps towards material rescue. - -The spiritual kind of rescue was a genuine need with him. There may be -coarse hypocrites, who consciously affect beliefs and emotions for the -sake of gulling the world, but Bulstrode was not one of them. He was -simply a man whose desires had been stronger than his theoretic -beliefs, and who had gradually explained the gratification of his -desires into satisfactory agreement with those beliefs. If this be -hypocrisy, it is a process which shows itself occasionally in us all, -to whatever confession we belong, and whether we believe in the future -perfection of our race or in the nearest date fixed for the end of the -world; whether we regard the earth as a putrefying nidus for a saved -remnant, including ourselves, or have a passionate belief in the -solidarity of mankind. - -The service he could do to the cause of religion had been through life -the ground he alleged to himself for his choice of action: it had been -the motive which he had poured out in his prayers. Who would use money -and position better than he meant to use them? Who could surpass him in -self-abhorrence and exaltation of Gods cause? And to Mr. Bulstrode -Gods cause was something distinct from his own rectitude of conduct: -it enforced a discrimination of Gods enemies, who were to be used -merely as instruments, and whom it would be as well if possible to keep -out of money and consequent influence. Also, profitable investments in -trades where the power of the prince of this world showed its most -active devices, became sanctified by a right application of the profits -in the hands of Gods servant. - -This implicit reasoning is essentially no more peculiar to evangelical -belief than the use of wide phrases for narrow motives is peculiar to -Englishmen. There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating -out our morality if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct -fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men. - -But a man who believes in something else than his own greed, has -necessarily a conscience or standard to which he more or less adapts -himself. Bulstrodes standard had been his serviceableness to Gods -cause: I am sinful and noughta vessel to be consecrated by usebut -use me!had been the mould into which he had constrained his immense -need of being something important and predominating. And now had come a -moment in which that mould seemed in danger of being broken and utterly -cast away. - -What if the acts he had reconciled himself to because they made him a -stronger instrument of the divine glory, were to become the pretext of -the scoffer, and a darkening of that glory? If this were to be the -ruling of Providence, he was cast out from the temple as one who had -brought unclean offerings. - -He had long poured out utterances of repentance. But today a repentance -had come which was of a bitterer flavor, and a threatening Providence -urged him to a kind of propitiation which was not simply a doctrinal -transaction. The divine tribunal had changed its aspect for him; -self-prostration was no longer enough, and he must bring restitution in -his hand. It was really before his God that Bulstrode was about to -attempt such restitution as seemed possible: a great dread had seized -his susceptible frame, and the scorching approach of shame wrought in -him a new spiritual need. Night and day, while the resurgent -threatening past was making a conscience within him, he was thinking by -what means he could recover peace and trustby what sacrifice he could -stay the rod. His belief in these moments of dread was, that if he -spontaneously did something right, God would save him from the -consequences of wrong-doing. For religion can only change when the -emotions which fill it are changed; and the religion of personal fear -remains nearly at the level of the savage. - -He had seen Raffles actually going away on the Brassing coach, and this -was a temporary relief; it removed the pressure of an immediate dread, -but did not put an end to the spiritual conflict and the need to win -protection. At last he came to a difficult resolve, and wrote a letter -to Will Ladislaw, begging him to be at the Shrubs that evening for a -private interview at nine oclock. Will had felt no particular surprise -at the request, and connected it with some new notions about the -Pioneer; but when he was shown into Mr. Bulstrodes private room, he -was struck with the painfully worn look on the bankers face, and was -going to say, Are you ill? when, checking himself in that abruptness, -he only inquired after Mrs. Bulstrode, and her satisfaction with the -picture bought for her. - -Thank you, she is quite satisfied; she has gone out with her daughters -this evening. I begged you to come, Mr. Ladislaw, because I have a -communication of a very privateindeed, I will say, of a sacredly -confidential nature, which I desire to make to you. Nothing, I dare -say, has been farther from your thoughts than that there had been -important ties in the past which could connect your history with mine. - -Will felt something like an electric shock. He was already in a state -of keen sensitiveness and hardly allayed agitation on the subject of -ties in the past, and his presentiments were not agreeable. It seemed -like the fluctuations of a dreamas if the action begun by that loud -bloated stranger were being carried on by this pale-eyed sickly looking -piece of respectability, whose subdued tone and glib formality of -speech were at this moment almost as repulsive to him as their -remembered contrast. He answered, with a marked change of color - -No, indeed, nothing. - -You see before you, Mr. Ladislaw, a man who is deeply stricken. But -for the urgency of conscience and the knowledge that I am before the -bar of One who seeth not as man seeth, I should be under no compulsion -to make the disclosure which has been my object in asking you to come -here to-night. So far as human laws go, you have no claim on me -whatever. - -Will was even more uncomfortable than wondering. Mr. Bulstrode had -paused, leaning his head on his hand, and looking at the floor. But he -now fixed his examining glance on Will and said - -I am told that your mothers name was Sarah Dunkirk, and that she ran -away from her friends to go on the stage. Also, that your father was at -one time much emaciated by illness. May I ask if you can confirm these -statements? - -Yes, they are all true, said Will, struck with the order in which an -inquiry had come, that might have been expected to be preliminary to -the bankers previous hints. But Mr. Bulstrode had to-night followed -the order of his emotions; he entertained no doubt that the opportunity -for restitution had come, and he had an overpowering impulse towards -the penitential expression by which he was deprecating chastisement. - -Do you know any particulars of your mothers family? he continued. - -No; she never liked to speak of them. She was a very generous, -honorable woman, said Will, almost angrily. - -I do not wish to allege anything against her. Did she never mention -her mother to you at all? - -I have heard her say that she thought her mother did not know the -reason of her running away. She said poor mother in a pitying tone. - -That mother became my wife, said Bulstrode, and then paused a moment -before he added, you have a claim on me, Mr. Ladislaw: as I said -before, not a legal claim, but one which my conscience recognizes. I -was enriched by that marriagea result which would probably not have -taken placecertainly not to the same extentif your grandmother could -have discovered her daughter. That daughter, I gather, is no longer -living! - -No, said Will, feeling suspicion and repugnance rising so strongly -within him, that without quite knowing what he did, he took his hat -from the floor and stood up. The impulse within him was to reject the -disclosed connection. - -Pray be seated, Mr. Ladislaw, said Bulstrode, anxiously. Doubtless -you are startled by the suddenness of this discovery. But I entreat -your patience with one who is already bowed down by inward trial. - -Will reseated himself, feeling some pity which was half contempt for -this voluntary self-abasement of an elderly man. - -It is my wish, Mr. Ladislaw, to make amends for the deprivation which -befell your mother. I know that you are without fortune, and I wish to -supply you adequately from a store which would have probably already -been yours had your grandmother been certain of your mothers existence -and been able to find her. - -Mr. Bulstrode paused. He felt that he was performing a striking piece -of scrupulosity in the judgment of his auditor, and a penitential act -in the eyes of God. He had no clew to the state of Will Ladislaws -mind, smarting as it was from the clear hints of Raffles, and with its -natural quickness in construction stimulated by the expectation of -discoveries which he would have been glad to conjure back into -darkness. Will made no answer for several moments, till Mr. Bulstrode, -who at the end of his speech had cast his eyes on the floor, now raised -them with an examining glance, which Will met fully, saying - -I suppose you did know of my mothers existence, and knew where she -might have been found. - -Bulstrode shrankthere was a visible quivering in his face and hands. -He was totally unprepared to have his advances met in this way, or to -find himself urged into more revelation than he had beforehand set down -as needful. But at that moment he dared not tell a lie, and he felt -suddenly uncertain of his ground which he had trodden with some -confidence before. - -I will not deny that you conjecture rightly, he answered, with a -faltering in his tone. And I wish to make atonement to you as the one -still remaining who has suffered a loss through me. You enter, I trust, -into my purpose, Mr. Ladislaw, which has a reference to higher than -merely human claims, and as I have already said, is entirely -independent of any legal compulsion. I am ready to narrow my own -resources and the prospects of my family by binding myself to allow you -five hundred pounds yearly during my life, and to leave you a -proportional capital at my deathnay, to do still more, if more should -be definitely necessary to any laudable project on your part. Mr. -Bulstrode had gone on to particulars in the expectation that these -would work strongly on Ladislaw, and merge other feelings in grateful -acceptance. - -But Will was looking as stubborn as possible, with his lip pouting and -his fingers in his side-pockets. He was not in the least touched, and -said firmly, - -Before I make any reply to your proposition, Mr. Bulstrode, I must beg -you to answer a question or two. Were you connected with the business -by which that fortune you speak of was originally made? - -Mr. Bulstrodes thought was, Raffles has told him. How could he -refuse to answer when he had volunteered what drew forth the question? -He answered, Yes. - -And was that businessor was it nota thoroughly dishonorable onenay, -one that, if its nature had been made public, might have ranked those -concerned in it with thieves and convicts? - -Wills tone had a cutting bitterness: he was moved to put his question -as nakedly as he could. - -Bulstrode reddened with irrepressible anger. He had been prepared for a -scene of self-abasement, but his intense pride and his habit of -supremacy overpowered penitence, and even dread, when this young man, -whom he had meant to benefit, turned on him with the air of a judge. - -The business was established before I became connected with it, sir; -nor is it for you to institute an inquiry of that kind, he answered, -not raising his voice, but speaking with quick defiantness. - -Yes, it is, said Will, starting up again with his hat in his hand. -It is eminently mine to ask such questions, when I have to decide -whether I will have transactions with you and accept your money. My -unblemished honor is important to me. It is important to me to have no -stain on my birth and connections. And now I find there is a stain -which I cant help. My mother felt it, and tried to keep as clear of it -as she could, and so will I. You shall keep your ill-gotten money. If I -had any fortune of my own, I would willingly pay it to any one who -could disprove what you have told me. What I have to thank you for is -that you kept the money till now, when I can refuse it. It ought to lie -with a mans self that he is a gentleman. Good-night, sir. - -Bulstrode was going to speak, but Will, with determined quickness, was -out of the room in an instant, and in another the hall-door had closed -behind him. He was too strongly possessed with passionate rebellion -against this inherited blot which had been thrust on his knowledge to -reflect at present whether he had not been too hard on Bulstrodetoo -arrogantly merciless towards a man of sixty, who was making efforts at -retrieval when time had rendered them vain. - -No third person listening could have thoroughly understood the -impetuosity of Wills repulse or the bitterness of his words. No one -but himself then knew how everything connected with the sentiment of -his own dignity had an immediate bearing for him on his relation to -Dorothea and to Mr. Casaubons treatment of him. And in the rush of -impulses by which he flung back that offer of Bulstrodes there was -mingled the sense that it would have been impossible for him ever to -tell Dorothea that he had accepted it. - -As for Bulstrodewhen Will was gone he suffered a violent reaction, and -wept like a woman. It was the first time he had encountered an open -expression of scorn from any man higher than Raffles; and with that -scorn hurrying like venom through his system, there was no sensibility -left to consolations. But the relief of weeping had to be checked. His -wife and daughters soon came home from hearing the address of an -Oriental missionary, and were full of regret that papa had not heard, -in the first instance, the interesting things which they tried to -repeat to him. - -Perhaps, through all other hidden thoughts, the one that breathed most -comfort was, that Will Ladislaw at least was not likely to publish what -had taken place that evening. - - - - -CHAPTER LXII. - -He was a squyer of lowe degre, -That loved the kings daughter of Hungrie. -_Old Romance_. - - -Will Ladislaws mind was now wholly bent on seeing Dorothea again, and -forthwith quitting Middlemarch. The morning after his agitating scene -with Bulstrode he wrote a brief letter to her, saying that various -causes had detained him in the neighborhood longer than he had -expected, and asking her permission to call again at Lowick at some -hour which she would mention on the earliest possible day, he being -anxious to depart, but unwilling to do so until she had granted him an -interview. He left the letter at the office, ordering the messenger to -carry it to Lowick Manor, and wait for an answer. - -Ladislaw felt the awkwardness of asking for more last words. His former -farewell had been made in the hearing of Sir James Chettam, and had -been announced as final even to the butler. It is certainly trying to a -mans dignity to reappear when he is not expected to do so: a first -farewell has pathos in it, but to come back for a second lends an -opening to comedy, and it was possible even that there might be bitter -sneers afloat about Wills motives for lingering. Still it was on the -whole more satisfactory to his feeling to take the directest means of -seeing Dorothea, than to use any device which might give an air of -chance to a meeting of which he wished her to understand that it was -what he earnestly sought. When he had parted from her before, he had -been in ignorance of facts which gave a new aspect to the relation -between them, and made a more absolute severance than he had then -believed in. He knew nothing of Dorotheas private fortune, and being -little used to reflect on such matters, took it for granted that -according to Mr. Casaubons arrangement marriage to him, Will Ladislaw, -would mean that she consented to be penniless. That was not what he -could wish for even in his secret heart, or even if she had been ready -to meet such hard contrast for his sake. And then, too, there was the -fresh smart of that disclosure about his mothers family, which if -known would be an added reason why Dorotheas friends should look down -upon him as utterly below her. The secret hope that after some years he -might come back with the sense that he had at least a personal value -equal to her wealth, seemed now the dreamy continuation of a dream. -This change would surely justify him in asking Dorothea to receive him -once more. - -But Dorothea on that morning was not at home to receive Wills note. In -consequence of a letter from her uncle announcing his intention to be -at home in a week, she had driven first to Freshitt to carry the news, -meaning to go on to the Grange to deliver some orders with which her -uncle had intrusted herthinking, as he said, a little mental -occupation of this sort good for a widow. - -If Will Ladislaw could have overheard some of the talk at Freshitt that -morning, he would have felt all his suppositions confirmed as to the -readiness of certain people to sneer at his lingering in the -neighborhood. Sir James, indeed, though much relieved concerning -Dorothea, had been on the watch to learn Ladislaws movements, and had -an instructed informant in Mr. Standish, who was necessarily in his -confidence on this matter. That Ladislaw had stayed in Middlemarch -nearly two months after he had declared that he was going immediately, -was a fact to embitter Sir Jamess suspicions, or at least to justify -his aversion to a young fellow whom he represented to himself as -slight, volatile, and likely enough to show such recklessness as -naturally went along with a position unriveted by family ties or a -strict profession. But he had just heard something from Standish which, -while it justified these surmises about Will, offered a means of -nullifying all danger with regard to Dorothea. - -Unwonted circumstances may make us all rather unlike ourselves: there -are conditions under which the most majestic person is obliged to -sneeze, and our emotions are liable to be acted on in the same -incongruous manner. Good Sir James was this morning so far unlike -himself that he was irritably anxious to say something to Dorothea on a -subject which he usually avoided as if it had been a matter of shame to -them both. He could not use Celia as a medium, because he did not -choose that she should know the kind of gossip he had in his mind; and -before Dorothea happened to arrive he had been trying to imagine how, -with his shyness and unready tongue, he could ever manage to introduce -his communication. Her unexpected presence brought him to utter -hopelessness in his own power of saying anything unpleasant; but -desperation suggested a resource; he sent the groom on an unsaddled -horse across the park with a pencilled note to Mrs. Cadwallader, who -already knew the gossip, and would think it no compromise of herself to -repeat it as often as required. - -Dorothea was detained on the good pretext that Mr. Garth, whom she -wanted to see, was expected at the hall within the hour, and she was -still talking to Caleb on the gravel when Sir James, on the watch for -the rectors wife, saw her coming and met her with the needful hints. - -Enough! I understand,said Mrs. Cadwallader. You shall be innocent. -I am such a blackamoor that I cannot smirch myself. - -I dont mean that its of any consequence, said Sir James, disliking -that Mrs. Cadwallader should understand too much. Only it is desirable -that Dorothea should know there are reasons why she should not receive -him again; and I really cant say so to her. It will come lightly from -you. - -It came very lightly indeed. When Dorothea quitted Caleb and turned to -meet them, it appeared that Mrs. Cadwallader had stepped across the -park by the merest chance in the world, just to chat with Celia in a -matronly way about the baby. And so Mr. Brooke was coming back? -Delightful!coming back, it was to be hoped, quite cured of -Parliamentary fever and pioneering. Apropos of the Pioneersomebody -had prophesied that it would soon be like a dying dolphin, and turn all -colors for want of knowing how to help itself, because Mr. Brookes -protege, the brilliant young Ladislaw, was gone or going. Had Sir James -heard that? - -The three were walking along the gravel slowly, and Sir James, turning -aside to whip a shrub, said he had heard something of that sort. - -All false! said Mrs. Cadwallader. He is not gone, or going, -apparently; the Pioneer keeps its color, and Mr. Orlando Ladislaw is -making a sad dark-blue scandal by warbling continually with your Mr. -Lydgates wife, who they tell me is as pretty as pretty can be. It -seems nobody ever goes into the house without finding this young -gentleman lying on the rug or warbling at the piano. But the people in -manufacturing towns are always disreputable. - -You began by saying that one report was false, Mrs. Cadwallader, and I -believe this is false too, said Dorothea, with indignant energy; at -least, I feel sure it is a misrepresentation. I will not hear any evil -spoken of Mr. Ladislaw; he has already suffered too much injustice. - -Dorothea when thoroughly moved cared little what any one thought of her -feelings; and even if she had been able to reflect, she would have held -it petty to keep silence at injurious words about Will from fear of -being herself misunderstood. Her face was flushed and her lip trembled. - -Sir James, glancing at her, repented of his stratagem; but Mrs. -Cadwallader, equal to all occasions, spread the palms of her hands -outward and saidHeaven grant it, my dear!I mean that all bad tales -about anybody may be false. But it is a pity that young Lydgate should -have married one of these Middlemarch girls. Considering hes a son of -somebody, he might have got a woman with good blood in her veins, and -not too young, who would have put up with his profession. Theres Clara -Harfager, for instance, whose friends dont know what to do with her; -and she has a portion. Then we might have had her among us. -However!its no use being wise for other people. Where is Celia? Pray -let us go in. - -I am going on immediately to Tipton, said Dorothea, rather haughtily. -Good-by. - -Sir James could say nothing as he accompanied her to the carriage. He -was altogether discontented with the result of a contrivance which had -cost him some secret humiliation beforehand. - -Dorothea drove along between the berried hedgerows and the shorn -corn-fields, not seeing or hearing anything around. The tears came and -rolled down her cheeks, but she did not know it. The world, it seemed, -was turning ugly and hateful, and there was no place for her -trustfulness. It is not trueit is not true! was the voice within her -that she listened to; but all the while a remembrance to which there -had always clung a vague uneasiness would thrust itself on her -attentionthe remembrance of that day when she had found Will Ladislaw -with Mrs. Lydgate, and had heard his voice accompanied by the piano. - -He said he would never do anything that I disapprovedI wish I could -have told him that I disapproved of that, said poor Dorothea, -inwardly, feeling a strange alternation between anger with Will and the -passionate defence of him. They all try to blacken him before me; but -I will care for no pain, if he is not to blame. I always believed he -was good.These were her last thoughts before she felt that the -carriage was passing under the archway of the lodge-gate at the Grange, -when she hurriedly pressed her handkerchief to her face and began to -think of her errands. The coachman begged leave to take out the horses -for half an hour as there was something wrong with a shoe; and -Dorothea, having the sense that she was going to rest, took off her -gloves and bonnet, while she was leaning against a statue in the -entrance-hall, and talking to the housekeeper. At last she said - -I must stay here a little, Mrs. Kell. I will go into the library and -write you some memoranda from my uncles letter, if you will open the -shutters for me. - -The shutters are open, madam, said Mrs. Kell, following Dorothea, who -had walked along as she spoke. Mr. Ladislaw is there, looking for -something. - -(Will had come to fetch a portfolio of his own sketches which he had -missed in the act of packing his movables, and did not choose to leave -behind.) - -Dorotheas heart seemed to turn over as if it had had a blow, but she -was not perceptibly checked: in truth, the sense that Will was there -was for the moment all-satisfying to her, like the sight of something -precious that one has lost. When she reached the door she said to Mrs. -Kell - -Go in first, and tell him that I am here. - -Will had found his portfolio, and had laid it on the table at the far -end of the room, to turn over the sketches and please himself by -looking at the memorable piece of art which had a relation to nature -too mysterious for Dorothea. He was smiling at it still, and shaking -the sketches into order with the thought that he might find a letter -from her awaiting him at Middlemarch, when Mrs. Kell close to his elbow -said - -Mrs. Casaubon is coming in, sir. - -Will turned round quickly, and the next moment Dorothea was entering. -As Mrs. Kell closed the door behind her they met: each was looking at -the other, and consciousness was overflowed by something that -suppressed utterance. It was not confusion that kept them silent, for -they both felt that parting was near, and there is no shamefacedness in -a sad parting. - -She moved automatically towards her uncles chair against the -writing-table, and Will, after drawing it out a little for her, went a -few paces off and stood opposite to her. - -Pray sit down, said Dorothea, crossing her hands on her lap; I am -very glad you were here. Will thought that her face looked just as it -did when she first shook hands with him in Rome; for her widows cap, -fixed in her bonnet, had gone off with it, and he could see that she -had lately been shedding tears. But the mixture of anger in her -agitation had vanished at the sight of him; she had been used, when -they were face to face, always to feel confidence and the happy freedom -which comes with mutual understanding, and how could other peoples -words hinder that effect on a sudden? Let the music which can take -possession of our frame and fill the air with joy for us, sound once -morewhat does it signify that we heard it found fault with in its -absence? - -I have sent a letter to Lowick Manor to-day, asking leave to see you, -said Will, seating himself opposite to her. I am going away -immediately, and I could not go without speaking to you again. - -I thought we had parted when you came to Lowick many weeks agoyou -thought you were going then, said Dorothea, her voice trembling a -little. - -Yes; but I was in ignorance then of things which I know nowthings -which have altered my feelings about the future. When I saw you before, -I was dreaming that I might come back some day. I dont think I ever -shallnow. Will paused here. - -You wished me to know the reasons? said Dorothea, timidly. - -Yes, said Will, impetuously, shaking his head backward, and looking -away from her with irritation in his face. Of course I must wish it. I -have been grossly insulted in your eyes and in the eyes of others. -There has been a mean implication against my character. I wish you to -know that under no circumstances would I have lowered myself byunder -no circumstances would I have given men the chance of saying that I -sought money under the pretext of seekingsomething else. There was no -need of other safeguard against methe safeguard of wealth was enough. - -Will rose from his chair with the last word and wenthe hardly knew -where; but it was to the projecting window nearest him, which had been -open as now about the same season a year ago, when he and Dorothea had -stood within it and talked together. Her whole heart was going out at -this moment in sympathy with Wills indignation: she only wanted to -convince him that she had never done him injustice, and he seemed to -have turned away from her as if she too had been part of the unfriendly -world. - -It would be very unkind of you to suppose that I ever attributed any -meanness to you, she began. Then in her ardent way, wanting to plead -with him, she moved from her chair and went in front of him to her old -place in the window, saying, Do you suppose that I ever disbelieved in -you? - -When Will saw her there, he gave a start and moved backward out of the -window, without meeting her glance. Dorothea was hurt by this movement -following up the previous anger of his tone. She was ready to say that -it was as hard on her as on him, and that she was helpless; but those -strange particulars of their relation which neither of them could -explicitly mention kept her always in dread of saying too much. At this -moment she had no belief that Will would in any case have wanted to -marry her, and she feared using words which might imply such a belief. -She only said earnestly, recurring to his last word - -I am sure no safeguard was ever needed against you. - -Will did not answer. In the stormy fluctuation of his feelings these -words of hers seemed to him cruelly neutral, and he looked pale and -miserable after his angry outburst. He went to the table and fastened -up his portfolio, while Dorothea looked at him from the distance. They -were wasting these last moments together in wretched silence. What -could he say, since what had got obstinately uppermost in his mind was -the passionate love for her which he forbade himself to utter? What -could she say, since she might offer him no helpsince she was forced -to keep the money that ought to have been his?since to-day he seemed -not to respond as he used to do to her thorough trust and liking? - -But Will at last turned away from his portfolio and approached the -window again. - -I must go, he said, with that peculiar look of the eyes which -sometimes accompanies bitter feeling, as if they had been tired and -burned with gazing too close at a light. - -What shall you do in life? said Dorothea, timidly. Have your -intentions remained just the same as when we said good-by before? - -Yes, said Will, in a tone that seemed to waive the subject as -uninteresting. I shall work away at the first thing that offers. I -suppose one gets a habit of doing without happiness or hope. - -Oh, what sad words! said Dorothea, with a dangerous tendency to sob. -Then trying to smile, she added, We used to agree that we were alike -in speaking too strongly. - -I have not spoken too strongly now, said Will, leaning back against -the angle of the wall. There are certain things which a man can only -go through once in his life; and he must know some time or other that -the best is over with him. This experience has happened to me while I -am very youngthat is all. What I care more for than I can ever care -for anything else is absolutely forbidden to meI dont mean merely by -being out of my reach, but forbidden me, even if it were within my -reach, by my own pride and honorby everything I respect myself for. Of -course I shall go on living as a man might do who had seen heaven in a -trance. - -Will paused, imagining that it would be impossible for Dorothea to -misunderstand this; indeed he felt that he was contradicting himself -and offending against his self-approval in speaking to her so plainly; -but stillit could not be fairly called wooing a woman to tell her that -he would never woo her. It must be admitted to be a ghostly kind of -wooing. - -But Dorotheas mind was rapidly going over the past with quite another -vision than his. The thought that she herself might be what Will most -cared for did throb through her an instant, but then came doubt: the -memory of the little they had lived through together turned pale and -shrank before the memory which suggested how much fuller might have -been the intercourse between Will and some one else with whom he had -had constant companionship. Everything he had said might refer to that -other relation, and whatever had passed between him and herself was -thoroughly explained by what she had always regarded as their simple -friendship and the cruel obstruction thrust upon it by her husbands -injurious act. Dorothea stood silent, with her eyes cast down dreamily, -while images crowded upon her which left the sickening certainty that -Will was referring to Mrs. Lydgate. But why sickening? He wanted her to -know that here too his conduct should be above suspicion. - -Will was not surprised at her silence. His mind also was tumultuously -busy while he watched her, and he was feeling rather wildly that -something must happen to hinder their partingsome miracle, clearly -nothing in their own deliberate speech. Yet, after all, had she any -love for him?he could not pretend to himself that he would rather -believe her to be without that pain. He could not deny that a secret -longing for the assurance that she loved him was at the root of all his -words. - -Neither of them knew how long they stood in that way. Dorothea was -raising her eyes, and was about to speak, when the door opened and her -footman came to say - -The horses are ready, madam, whenever you like to start. - -Presently, said Dorothea. Then turning to Will, she said, I have -some memoranda to write for the housekeeper. - -I must go, said Will, when the door had closed againadvancing -towards her. The day after to-morrow I shall leave Middlemarch. - -You have acted in every way rightly, said Dorothea, in a low tone, -feeling a pressure at her heart which made it difficult to speak. - -She put out her hand, and Will took it for an instant without speaking, -for her words had seemed to him cruelly cold and unlike herself. Their -eyes met, but there was discontent in his, and in hers there was only -sadness. He turned away and took his portfolio under his arm. - -I have never done you injustice. Please remember me, said Dorothea, -repressing a rising sob. - -Why should you say that? said Will, with irritation. As if I were -not in danger of forgetting everything else. - -He had really a movement of anger against her at that moment, and it -impelled him to go away without pause. It was all one flash to -Dorotheahis last wordshis distant bow to her as he reached the -doorthe sense that he was no longer there. She sank into the chair, -and for a few moments sat like a statue, while images and emotions were -hurrying upon her. Joy came first, in spite of the threatening train -behind itjoy in the impression that it was really herself whom Will -loved and was renouncing, that there was really no other love less -permissible, more blameworthy, which honor was hurrying him away from. -They were parted all the same, butDorothea drew a deep breath and felt -her strength returnshe could think of him unrestrainedly. At that -moment the parting was easy to bear: the first sense of loving and -being loved excluded sorrow. It was as if some hard icy pressure had -melted, and her consciousness had room to expand: her past was come -back to her with larger interpretation. The joy was not the -lessperhaps it was the more complete just thenbecause of the -irrevocable parting; for there was no reproach, no contemptuous wonder -to imagine in any eye or from any lips. He had acted so as to defy -reproach, and make wonder respectful. - -Any one watching her might have seen that there was a fortifying -thought within her. Just as when inventive power is working with glad -ease some small claim on the attention is fully met as if it were only -a cranny opened to the sunlight, it was easy now for Dorothea to write -her memoranda. She spoke her last words to the housekeeper in cheerful -tones, and when she seated herself in the carriage her eyes were bright -and her cheeks blooming under the dismal bonnet. She threw back the -heavy weepers, and looked before her, wondering which road Will had -taken. It was in her nature to be proud that he was blameless, and -through all her feelings there ran this veinI was right to defend -him. - -The coachman was used to drive his grays at a good pace, Mr. Casaubon -being unenjoying and impatient in everything away from his desk, and -wanting to get to the end of all journeys; and Dorothea was now bowled -along quickly. Driving was pleasant, for rain in the night had laid the -dust, and the blue sky looked far off, away from the region of the -great clouds that sailed in masses. The earth looked like a happy place -under the vast heavens, and Dorothea was wishing that she might -overtake Will and see him once more. - -After a turn of the road, there he was with the portfolio under his -arm; but the next moment she was passing him while he raised his hat, -and she felt a pang at being seated there in a sort of exaltation, -leaving him behind. She could not look back at him. It was as if a -crowd of indifferent objects had thrust them asunder, and forced them -along different paths, taking them farther and farther away from each -other, and making it useless to look back. She could no more make any -sign that would seem to say, Need we part? than she could stop the -carriage to wait for him. Nay, what a world of reasons crowded upon her -against any movement of her thought towards a future that might reverse -the decision of this day! - -I only wish I had known beforeI wish he knewthen we could be quite -happy in thinking of each other, though we are forever parted. And if I -could but have given him the money, and made things easier for -him!were the longings that came back the most persistently. And yet, -so heavily did the world weigh on her in spite of her independent -energy, that with this idea of Will as in need of such help and at a -disadvantage with the world, there came always the vision of that -unfittingness of any closer relation between them which lay in the -opinion of every one connected with her. She felt to the full all the -imperativeness of the motives which urged Wills conduct. How could he -dream of her defying the barrier that her husband had placed between -them?how could she ever say to herself that she would defy it? - -Wills certainty as the carriage grew smaller in the distance, had much -more bitterness in it. Very slight matters were enough to gall him in -his sensitive mood, and the sight of Dorothea driving past him while he -felt himself plodding along as a poor devil seeking a position in a -world which in his present temper offered him little that he coveted, -made his conduct seem a mere matter of necessity, and took away the -sustainment of resolve. After all, he had no assurance that she loved -him: could any man pretend that he was simply glad in such a case to -have the suffering all on his own side? - -That evening Will spent with the Lydgates; the next evening he was -gone. - - - - -BOOK VII. -TWO TEMPTATIONS. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIII. - -These little things are great to little man.GOLDSMITH. - - -Have you seen much of your scientific phoenix, Lydgate, lately? said -Mr. Toller at one of his Christmas dinner-parties, speaking to Mr. -Farebrother on his right hand. - -Not much, I am sorry to say, answered the Vicar, accustomed to parry -Mr. Tollers banter about his belief in the new medical light. I am -out of the way and he is too busy. - -Is he? I am glad to hear it, said Dr. Minchin, with mingled suavity -and surprise. - -He gives a great deal of time to the New Hospital, said Mr. -Farebrother, who had his reasons for continuing the subject: I hear of -that from my neighbor, Mrs. Casaubon, who goes there often. She says -Lydgate is indefatigable, and is making a fine thing of Bulstrodes -institution. He is preparing a new ward in case of the cholera coming -to us. - -And preparing theories of treatment to try on the patients, I -suppose, said Mr. Toller. - -Come, Toller, be candid, said Mr. Farebrother. You are too clever -not to see the good of a bold fresh mind in medicine, as well as in -everything else; and as to cholera, I fancy, none of you are very sure -what you ought to do. If a man goes a little too far along a new road, -it is usually himself that he harms more than any one else. - -I am sure you and Wrench ought to be obliged to him, said Dr. -Minchin, looking towards Toller, for he has sent you the cream of -Peacocks patients. - -Lydgate has been living at a great rate for a young beginner, said -Mr. Harry Toller, the brewer. I suppose his relations in the North -back him up. - -I hope so, said Mr. Chichely, else he ought not to have married that -nice girl we were all so fond of. Hang it, one has a grudge against a -man who carries off the prettiest girl in the town. - -Ay, by God! and the best too, said Mr. Standish. - -My friend Vincy didnt half like the marriage, I know that, said Mr. -Chichely. _He_ wouldnt do much. How the relations on the other side -may have come down I cant say. There was an emphatic kind of -reticence in Mr. Chichelys manner of speaking. - -Oh, I shouldnt think Lydgate ever looked to practice for a living, -said Mr. Toller, with a slight touch of sarcasm, and there the subject -was dropped. - -This was not the first time that Mr. Farebrother had heard hints of -Lydgates expenses being obviously too great to be met by his practice, -but he thought it not unlikely that there were resources or -expectations which excused the large outlay at the time of Lydgates -marriage, and which might hinder any bad consequences from the -disappointment in his practice. One evening, when he took the pains to -go to Middlemarch on purpose to have a chat with Lydgate as of old, he -noticed in him an air of excited effort quite unlike his usual easy way -of keeping silence or breaking it with abrupt energy whenever he had -anything to say. Lydgate talked persistently when they were in his -work-room, putting arguments for and against the probability of certain -biological views; but he had none of those definite things to say or to -show which give the waymarks of a patient uninterrupted pursuit, such -as he used himself to insist on, saying that there must be a systole -and diastole in all inquiry, and that a mans mind must be -continually expanding and shrinking between the whole human horizon and -the horizon of an object-glass. That evening he seemed to be talking -widely for the sake of resisting any personal bearing; and before long -they went into the drawing room, where Lydgate, having asked Rosamond -to give them music, sank back in his chair in silence, but with a -strange light in his eyes. He may have been taking an opiate, was a -thought that crossed Mr. Farebrothers mindtic-douloureux perhapsor -medical worries. - -It did not occur to him that Lydgates marriage was not delightful: he -believed, as the rest did, that Rosamond was an amiable, docile -creature, though he had always thought her rather uninterestinga -little too much the pattern-card of the finishing-school; and his -mother could not forgive Rosamond because she never seemed to see that -Henrietta Noble was in the room. However, Lydgate fell in love with -her, said the Vicar to himself, and she must be to his taste. - -Mr. Farebrother was aware that Lydgate was a proud man, but having very -little corresponding fibre in himself, and perhaps too little care -about personal dignity, except the dignity of not being mean or -foolish, he could hardly allow enough for the way in which Lydgate -shrank, as from a burn, from the utterance of any word about his -private affairs. And soon after that conversation at Mr. Tollers, the -Vicar learned something which made him watch the more eagerly for an -opportunity of indirectly letting Lydgate know that if he wanted to -open himself about any difficulty there was a friendly ear ready. - -The opportunity came at Mr. Vincys, where, on New Years Day, there -was a party, to which Mr. Farebrother was irresistibly invited, on the -plea that he must not forsake his old friends on the first new year of -his being a greater man, and Rector as well as Vicar. And this party -was thoroughly friendly: all the ladies of the Farebrother family were -present; the Vincy children all dined at the table, and Fred had -persuaded his mother that if she did not invite Mary Garth, the -Farebrothers would regard it as a slight to themselves, Mary being -their particular friend. Mary came, and Fred was in high spirits, -though his enjoyment was of a checkered kindtriumph that his mother -should see Marys importance with the chief personages in the party -being much streaked with jealousy when Mr. Farebrother sat down by her. -Fred used to be much more easy about his own accomplishments in the -days when he had not begun to dread being bowled out by Farebrother, -and this terror was still before him. Mrs. Vincy, in her fullest -matronly bloom, looked at Marys little figure, rough wavy hair, and -visage quite without lilies and roses, and wondered; trying -unsuccessfully to fancy herself caring about Marys appearance in -wedding clothes, or feeling complacency in grandchildren who would -feature the Garths. However, the party was a merry one, and Mary was -particularly bright; being glad, for Freds sake, that his friends were -getting kinder to her, and being also quite willing that they should -see how much she was valued by others whom they must admit to be -judges. - -Mr. Farebrother noticed that Lydgate seemed bored, and that Mr. Vincy -spoke as little as possible to his son-in-law. Rosamond was perfectly -graceful and calm, and only a subtle observation such as the Vicar had -not been roused to bestow on her would have perceived the total absence -of that interest in her husbands presence which a loving wife is sure -to betray, even if etiquette keeps her aloof from him. When Lydgate was -taking part in the conversation, she never looked towards him any more -than if she had been a sculptured Psyche modelled to look another way: -and when, after being called out for an hour or two, he re-entered the -room, she seemed unconscious of the fact, which eighteen months before -would have had the effect of a numeral before ciphers. In reality, -however, she was intensely aware of Lydgates voice and movements; and -her pretty good-tempered air of unconsciousness was a studied negation -by which she satisfied her inward opposition to him without compromise -of propriety. When the ladies were in the drawing-room after Lydgate -had been called away from the dessert, Mrs. Farebrother, when Rosamond -happened to be near her, saidYou have to give up a great deal of your -husbands society, Mrs. Lydgate. - -Yes, the life of a medical man is very arduous: especially when he is -so devoted to his profession as Mr. Lydgate is, said Rosamond, who was -standing, and moved easily away at the end of this correct little -speech. - -It is dreadfully dull for her when there is no company, said Mrs. -Vincy, who was seated at the old ladys side. I am sure I thought so -when Rosamond was ill, and I was staying with her. You know, Mrs. -Farebrother, ours is a cheerful house. I am of a cheerful disposition -myself, and Mr. Vincy always likes something to be going on. That is -what Rosamond has been used to. Very different from a husband out at -odd hours, and never knowing when he will come home, and of a close, -proud disposition, _I_ thinkindiscreet Mrs. Vincy did lower her tone -slightly with this parenthesis. But Rosamond always had an angel of a -temper; her brothers used very often not to please her, but she was -never the girl to show temper; from a baby she was always as good as -good, and with a complexion beyond anything. But my children are all -good-tempered, thank God. - -This was easily credible to any one looking at Mrs. Vincy as she threw -back her broad cap-strings, and smiled towards her three little girls, -aged from seven to eleven. But in that smiling glance she was obliged -to include Mary Garth, whom the three girls had got into a corner to -make her tell them stories. Mary was just finishing the delicious tale -of Rumpelstiltskin, which she had well by heart, because Letty was -never tired of communicating it to her ignorant elders from a favorite -red volume. Louisa, Mrs. Vincys darling, now ran to her with wide-eyed -serious excitement, crying, Oh mamma, mamma, the little man stamped so -hard on the floor he couldnt get his leg out again! - -Bless you, my cherub! said mamma; you shall tell me all about it -to-morrow. Go and listen! and then, as her eyes followed Louisa back -towards the attractive corner, she thought that if Fred wished her to -invite Mary again she would make no objection, the children being so -pleased with her. - -But presently the corner became still more animated, for Mr. -Farebrother came in, and seating himself behind Louisa, took her on his -lap; whereupon the girls all insisted that he must hear -Rumpelstiltskin, and Mary must tell it over again. He insisted too, and -Mary, without fuss, began again in her neat fashion, with precisely the -same words as before. Fred, who had also seated himself near, would -have felt unmixed triumph in Marys effectiveness if Mr. Farebrother -had not been looking at her with evident admiration, while he -dramatized an intense interest in the tale to please the children. - -You will never care any more about my one-eyed giant, Loo, said Fred -at the end. - -Yes, I shall. Tell about him now, said Louisa. - -Oh, I dare say; I am quite cut out. Ask Mr. Farebrother. - -Yes, added Mary; ask Mr. Farebrother to tell you about the ants -whose beautiful house was knocked down by a giant named Tom, and he -thought they didnt mind because he couldnt hear them cry, or see them -use their pocket-handkerchiefs. - -Please, said Louisa, looking up at the Vicar. - -No, no, I am a grave old parson. If I try to draw a story out of my -bag a sermon comes instead. Shall I preach you a sermon? said he, -putting on his short-sighted glasses, and pursing up his lips. - -Yes, said Louisa, falteringly. - -Let me see, then. Against cakes: how cakes are bad things, especially -if they are sweet and have plums in them. - -Louisa took the affair rather seriously, and got down from the Vicars -knee to go to Fred. - -Ah, I see it will not do to preach on New Years Day, said Mr. -Farebrother, rising and walking away. He had discovered of late that -Fred had become jealous of him, and also that he himself was not losing -his preference for Mary above all other women. - -A delightful young person is Miss Garth, said Mrs. Farebrother, who -had been watching her sons movements. - -Yes, said Mrs. Vincy, obliged to reply, as the old lady turned to her -expectantly. It is a pity she is not better-looking. - -I cannot say that, said Mrs. Farebrother, decisively. I like her -countenance. We must not always ask for beauty, when a good God has -seen fit to make an excellent young woman without it. I put good -manners first, and Miss Garth will know how to conduct herself in any -station. - -The old lady was a little sharp in her tone, having a prospective -reference to Marys becoming her daughter-in-law; for there was this -inconvenience in Marys position with regard to Fred, that it was not -suitable to be made public, and hence the three ladies at Lowick -Parsonage were still hoping that Camden would choose Miss Garth. - -New visitors entered, and the drawing-room was given up to music and -games, while whist-tables were prepared in the quiet room on the other -side of the hall. Mr. Farebrother played a rubber to satisfy his -mother, who regarded her occasional whist as a protest against scandal -and novelty of opinion, in which light even a revoke had its dignity. -But at the end he got Mr. Chichely to take his place, and left the -room. As he crossed the hall, Lydgate had just come in and was taking -off his great-coat. - -You are the man I was going to look for, said the Vicar; and instead -of entering the drawing-room, they walked along the hall and stood -against the fireplace, where the frosty air helped to make a glowing -bank. You see, I can leave the whist-table easily enough, he went on, -smiling at Lydgate, now I dont play for money. I owe that to you, -Mrs. Casaubon says. - -How? said Lydgate, coldly. - -Ah, you didnt mean me to know it; I call that ungenerous reticence. -You should let a man have the pleasure of feeling that you have done -him a good turn. I dont enter into some peoples dislike of being -under an obligation: upon my word, I prefer being under an obligation -to everybody for behaving well to me. - -I cant tell what you mean, said Lydgate, unless it is that I once -spoke of you to Mrs. Casaubon. But I did not think that she would break -her promise not to mention that I had done so, said Lydgate, leaning -his back against the corner of the mantel-piece, and showing no -radiance in his face. - -It was Brooke who let it out, only the other day. He paid me the -compliment of saying that he was very glad I had the living though you -had come across his tactics, and had praised me up as a Ken and a -Tillotson, and that sort of thing, till Mrs. Casaubon would hear of no -one else. - -Oh, Brooke is such a leaky-minded fool, said Lydgate, contemptuously. - -Well, I was glad of the leakiness then. I dont see why you shouldnt -like me to know that you wished to do me a service, my dear fellow. And -you certainly have done me one. Its rather a strong check to ones -self-complacency to find how much of ones right doing depends on not -being in want of money. A man will not be tempted to say the Lords -Prayer backward to please the devil, if he doesnt want the devils -services. I have no need to hang on the smiles of chance now. - -I dont see that theres any money-getting without chance, said -Lydgate; if a man gets it in a profession, its pretty sure to come by -chance. - -Mr. Farebrother thought he could account for this speech, in striking -contrast with Lydgates former way of talking, as the perversity which -will often spring from the moodiness of a man ill at ease in his -affairs. He answered in a tone of good-humored admission - -Ah, theres enormous patience wanted with the way of the world. But it -is the easier for a man to wait patiently when he has friends who love -him, and ask for nothing better than to help him through, so far as it -lies in their power. - -Oh yes, said Lydgate, in a careless tone, changing his attitude and -looking at his watch. People make much more of their difficulties than -they need to do. - -He knew as distinctly as possible that this was an offer of help to -himself from Mr. Farebrother, and he could not bear it. So strangely -determined are we mortals, that, after having been long gratified with -the sense that he had privately done the Vicar a service, the -suggestion that the Vicar discerned his need of a service in return -made him shrink into unconquerable reticence. Besides, behind all -making of such offers what else must come?that he should mention his -case, imply that he wanted specific things. At that moment, suicide -seemed easier. - -Mr. Farebrother was too keen a man not to know the meaning of that -reply, and there was a certain massiveness in Lydgates manner and -tone, corresponding with his physique, which if he repelled your -advances in the first instance seemed to put persuasive devices out of -question. - -What time are you? said the Vicar, devouring his wounded feeling. - -After eleven, said Lydgate. And they went into the drawing-room. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIV. - -1_st Gent_. Where lies the power, there let the blame lie too. - -2_d Gent_. Nay, power is relative; you cannot fright - The coming pest with border fortresses, - Or catch your carp with subtle argument. - All force is twain in one: cause is not cause - Unless effect be there; and actions self - Must needs contain a passive. So command - Exists but with obedience. - - -Even if Lydgate had been inclined to be quite open about his affairs, -he knew that it would have hardly been in Mr. Farebrothers power to -give him the help he immediately wanted. With the years bills coming -in from his tradesmen, with Dovers threatening hold on his furniture, -and with nothing to depend on but slow dribbling payments from patients -who must not be offendedfor the handsome fees he had had from Freshitt -Hall and Lowick Manor had been easily absorbednothing less than a -thousand pounds would have freed him from actual embarrassment, and -left a residue which, according to the favorite phrase of hopefulness -in such circumstances, would have given him time to look about him. - -Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when -fellow-citizens expect to be paid for the trouble and goods they have -smilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightened the pressure of -sordid cares on Lydgates mind that it was hardly possible for him to -think unbrokenly of any other subject, even the most habitual and -soliciting. He was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, -the ardent kindness of his heart, as well as his strong frame, would -always, under tolerably easy conditions, have kept him above the petty -uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper. But he was now a -prey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances, -but from the second consciousness underlying those annoyances, of -wasted energy and a degrading preoccupation, which was the reverse of -all his former purposes. _This_ is what I am thinking of; and _that_ -is what I might have been thinking of, was the bitter incessant murmur -within him, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience. - -Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by general -discontent with the universe as a trap of dulness into which their -great souls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendous self -and an insignificant world may have its consolations. Lydgates -discontent was much harder to bear: it was the sense that there was a -grand existence in thought and effective action lying around him, while -his self was being narrowed into the miserable isolation of egoistic -fears, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears. His -troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid, and beneath the -attention of lofty persons who can know nothing of debt except on a -magnificent scale. Doubtless they were sordid; and for the majority, -who are not lofty, there is no escape from sordidness but by being free -from money-craving, with all its base hopes and temptations, its -watching for death, its hinted requests, its horse-dealers desire to -make bad work pass for good, its seeking for function which ought to be -anothers, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the shape of a wide -calamity. - -It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neck -beneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody state -which was continually widening Rosamonds alienation from him. After -the first disclosure about the bill of sale, he had made many efforts -to draw her into sympathy with him about possible measures for -narrowing their expenses, and with the threatening approach of -Christmas his propositions grew more and more definite. We two can do -with only one servant, and live on very little, he said, and I shall -manage with one horse. For Lydgate, as we have seen, had begun to -reason, with a more distinct vision, about the expenses of living, and -any share of pride he had given to appearances of that sort was meagre -compared with the pride which made him revolt from exposure as a -debtor, or from asking men to help him with their money. - -Of course you can dismiss the other two servants, if you like, said -Rosamond; but I should have thought it would be very injurious to your -position for us to live in a poor way. You must expect your practice to -be lowered. - -My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have begun too -expensively. Peacock, you know, lived in a much smaller house than -this. It is my fault: I ought to have known better, and I deserve a -thrashingif there were anybody who had a right to give it mefor -bringing you into the necessity of living in a poorer way than you have -been used to. But we married because we loved each other, I suppose. -And that may help us to pull along till things get better. Come, dear, -put down that work and come to me. - -He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but he dreaded a -future without affection, and was determined to resist the oncoming of -division between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he took her on his -knee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him. The poor -thing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking, and -Lydgate was part of that world. But he held her waist with one hand and -laid the other gently on both of hers; for this rather abrupt man had -much tenderness in his manners towards women, seeming to have always -present in his imagination the weakness of their frames and the -delicate poise of their health both in body and mind. And he began -again to speak persuasively. - -I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderful -what an amount of money slips away in our housekeeping. I suppose the -servants are careless, and we have had a great many people coming. But -there must be many in our rank who manage with much less: they must do -with commoner things, I suppose, and look after the scraps. It seems, -money goes but a little way in these matters, for Wrench has everything -as plain as possible, and he has a very large practice. - -Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do! said Rosamond, with a -little turn of her neck. But I have heard you express your disgust at -that way of living. - -Yes, they have bad taste in everythingthey make economy look ugly. We -neednt do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses, although Wrench -has a capital practice. - -Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacock had. You -should be more careful not to offend people, and you should send out -medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and you got -several good houses. It cannot answer to be eccentric; you should think -what will be generally liked, said Rosamond, in a decided little tone -of admonition. - -Lydgates anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towards feminine -weakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallowness of a -waternixies soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. But he -controlled himself, and only said, with a touch of despotic firmness - -What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge. That is -not the question between us. It is enough for you to know that our -income is likely to be a very narrow onehardly four hundred, perhaps -less, for a long time to come, and we must try to re-arrange our lives -in accordance with that fact. - -Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, and then -said, My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salary for the time you -give to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work for -nothing. - -It was understood from the beginning that my services would be -gratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion. I have -pointed out what is the only probability, said Lydgate, impatiently. -Then checking himself, he went on more quietly - -I think I see one resource which would free us from a good deal of the -present difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to be -married to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often that a -good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would be -glad to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and they -would be willing to pay handsomely for the lease. I can employ Trumbull -to speak to Plymdale about it. - -Rosamond left her husbands knee and walked slowly to the other end of -the room; when she turned round and walked towards him it was evident -that the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lip and -clasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate was -wretchedshaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanly to -vent the anger just now. - -I am very sorry, Rosamond; I know this is painful. - -I thought, at least, when I had borne to send the plate back and have -that man taking an inventory of the furnitureI should have thought -_that_ would suffice. - -I explained it to you at the time, dear. That was only a security and -behind that security there is a debt. And that debt must be paid within -the next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold. If young -Plymdale will take our house and most of our furniture, we shall be -able to pay that debt, and some others too, and we shall be quit of a -place too expensive for us. We might take a smaller house: Trumbull, I -know, has a very decent one to let at thirty pounds a-year, and this is -ninety. Lydgate uttered this speech in the curt hammering way with -which we usually try to nail down a vague mind to imperative facts. -Tears rolled silently down Rosamonds cheeks; she just pressed her -handkerchief against them, and stood looking at the large vase on the -mantel-piece. It was a moment of more intense bitterness than she had -ever felt before. At last she said, without hurry and with careful -emphasis - -I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way. - -Like it? burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting his -hands in his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; its not a -question of liking. Of course, I dont like it; its the only thing I -can do. He wheeled round there, and turned towards her. - -I should have thought there were many other means than that, said -Rosamond. Let us have a sale and leave Middlemarch altogether. - -To do what? What is the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarch to go -where I have none? We should be just as penniless elsewhere as we are -here, said Lydgate still more angrily. - -If we are to be in that position it will be entirely your own doing, -Tertius, said Rosamond, turning round to speak with the fullest -conviction. You will not behave as you ought to do to your own family. -You offended Captain Lydgate. Sir Godwin was very kind to me when we -were at Quallingham, and I am sure if you showed proper regard to him -and told him your affairs, he would do anything for you. But rather -than that, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Ned -Plymdale. - -There was something like fierceness in Lydgates eyes, as he answered -with new violence, Well, then, if you will have it so, I do like it. I -admit that I like it better than making a fool of myself by going to -beg where its of no use. Understand then, that it is what I _like to -do._ - -There was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalent to the -clutch of his strong hand on Rosamonds delicate arm. But for all that, -his will was not a whit stronger than hers. She immediately walked out -of the room in silence, but with an intense determination to hinder -what Lydgate liked to do. - -He went out of the house, but as his blood cooled he felt that the -chief result of the discussion was a deposit of dread within him at the -idea of opening with his wife in future subjects which might again urge -him to violent speech. It was as if a fracture in delicate crystal had -begun, and he was afraid of any movement that might make it fatal. His -marriage would be a mere piece of bitter irony if they could not go on -loving each other. He had long ago made up his mind to what he thought -was her negative characterher want of sensibility, which showed itself -in disregard both of his specific wishes and of his general aims. The -first great disappointment had been borne: the tender devotedness and -docile adoration of the ideal wife must be renounced, and life must be -taken up on a lower stage of expectation, as it is by men who have lost -their limbs. But the real wife had not only her claims, she had still a -hold on his heart, and it was his intense desire that the hold should -remain strong. In marriage, the certainty, She will never love me -much, is easier to bear than the fear, I shall love her no more. -Hence, after that outburst, his inward effort was entirely to excuse -her, and to blame the hard circumstances which were partly his fault. -He tried that evening, by petting her, to heal the wound he had made in -the morning, and it was not in Rosamonds nature to be repellent or -sulky; indeed, she welcomed the signs that her husband loved her and -was under control. But this was something quite distinct from loving -_him_. Lydgate would not have chosen soon to recur to the plan of -parting with the house; he was resolved to carry it out, and say as -little more about it as possible. But Rosamond herself touched on it at -breakfast by saying, mildly - -Have you spoken to Trumbull yet? - -No, said Lydgate, but I shall call on him as I go by this morning. -No time must be lost. He took Rosamonds question as a sign that she -withdrew her inward opposition, and kissed her head caressingly when he -got up to go away. - -As soon as it was late enough to make a call, Rosamond went to Mrs. -Plymdale, Mr. Neds mother, and entered with pretty congratulations -into the subject of the coming marriage. Mrs. Plymdales maternal view -was, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of -her own folly; and feeling the advantages to be at present all on the -side of her son, was too kind a woman not to behave graciously. - -Yes, Ned is most happy, I must say. And Sophy Toller is all I could -desire in a daughter-in-law. Of course her father is able to do -something handsome for herthat is only what would be expected with a -brewery like his. And the connection is everything we should desire. -But that is not what I look at. She is such a very nice girlno airs, -no pretensions, though on a level with the first. I dont mean with the -titled aristocracy. I see very little good in people aiming out of -their own sphere. I mean that Sophy is equal to the best in the town, -and she is contented with that. - -I have always thought her very agreeable, said Rosamond. - -I look upon it as a reward for Ned, who never held his head too high, -that he should have got into the very best connection, continued Mrs. -Plymdale, her native sharpness softened by a fervid sense that she was -taking a correct view. And such particular people as the Tollers are, -they might have objected because some of our friends are not theirs. It -is well known that your aunt Bulstrode and I have been intimate from -our youth, and Mr. Plymdale has been always on Mr. Bulstrodes side. -And I myself prefer serious opinions. But the Tollers have welcomed Ned -all the same. - -I am sure he is a very deserving, well-principled young man, said -Rosamond, with a neat air of patronage in return for Mrs. Plymdales -wholesome corrections. - -Oh, he has not the style of a captain in the army, or that sort of -carriage as if everybody was beneath him, or that showy kind of -talking, and singing, and intellectual talent. But I am thankful he has -not. It is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter. - -Oh dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness, said -Rosamond. I think there is every prospect of their being a happy -couple. What house will they take? - -Oh, as for that, they must put up with what they can get. They have -been looking at the house in St. Peters Place, next to Mr. Hackbutts; -it belongs to him, and he is putting it nicely in repair. I suppose -they are not likely to hear of a better. Indeed, I think Ned will -decide the matter to-day. - -I should think it is a nice house; I like St. Peters Place. - -Well, it is near the Church, and a genteel situation. But the windows -are narrow, and it is all ups and downs. You dont happen to know of -any other that would be at liberty? said Mrs. Plymdale, fixing her -round black eyes on Rosamond with the animation of a sudden thought in -them. - -Oh no; I hear so little of those things. - -Rosamond had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to -pay her visit; she had simply meant to gather any information which -would help her to avert the parting with her own house under -circumstances thoroughly disagreeable to her. As to the untruth in her -reply, she no more reflected on it than she did on the untruth there -was in her saying that appearances had very little to do with -happiness. Her object, she was convinced, was thoroughly justifiable: -it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and there was a plan in -her mind which, when she had carried it out fully, would prove how very -false a step it would have been for him to have descended from his -position. - -She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbulls office, meaning to call -there. It was the first time in her life that Rosamond had thought of -doing anything in the form of business, but she felt equal to the -occasion. That she should be obliged to do what she intensely disliked, -was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention. Here -was a case in which it could not be enough simply to disobey and be -serenely, placidly obstinate: she must act according to her judgment, -and she said to herself that her judgment was rightindeed, if it had -not been, she would not have wished to act on it. - -Mr. Trumbull was in the back-room of his office, and received Rosamond -with his finest manners, not only because he had much sensibility to -her charms, but because the good-natured fibre in him was stirred by -his certainty that Lydgate was in difficulties, and that this -uncommonly pretty womanthis young lady with the highest personal -attractionswas likely to feel the pinch of troubleto find herself -involved in circumstances beyond her control. He begged her to do him -the honor to take a seat, and stood before her trimming and comporting -himself with an eager solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent. -Rosamonds first question was, whether her husband had called on Mr. -Trumbull that morning, to speak about disposing of their house. - -Yes, maam, yes, he did; he did so, said the good auctioneer, trying -to throw something soothing into his iteration. I was about to fulfil -his order, if possible, this afternoon. He wished me not to -procrastinate. - -I called to tell you not to go any further, Mr. Trumbull; and I beg of -you not to mention what has been said on the subject. Will you oblige -me? - -Certainly I will, Mrs. Lydgate, certainly. Confidence is sacred with -me on business or any other topic. I am then to consider the commission -withdrawn? said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long ends of his blue -cravat with both hands, and looking at Rosamond deferentially. - -Yes, if you please. I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a housethe -one in St. Peters Place next to Mr. Hackbutts. Mr. Lydgate would be -annoyed that his orders should be fulfilled uselessly. And besides -that, there are other circumstances which render the proposal -unnecessary. - -Very good, Mrs. Lydgate, very good. I am at your commands, whenever -you require any service of me, said Mr. Trumbull, who felt pleasure in -conjecturing that some new resources had been opened. Rely on me, I -beg. The affair shall go no further. - -That evening Lydgate was a little comforted by observing that Rosamond -was more lively than she had usually been of late, and even seemed -interested in doing what would please him without being asked. He -thought, If she will be happy and I can rub through, what does it all -signify? It is only a narrow swamp that we have to pass in a long -journey. If I can get my mind clear again, I shall do. - -He was so much cheered that he began to search for an account of -experiments which he had long ago meant to look up, and had neglected -out of that creeping self-despair which comes in the train of petty -anxieties. He felt again some of the old delightful absorption in a -far-reaching inquiry, while Rosamond played the quiet music which was -as helpful to his meditation as the plash of an oar on the evening -lake. It was rather late; he had pushed away all the books, and was -looking at the fire with his hands clasped behind his head in -forgetfulness of everything except the construction of a new -controlling experiment, when Rosamond, who had left the piano and was -leaning back in her chair watching him, said - -Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house already. - -Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked up in silence for a moment, like a -man who has been disturbed in his sleep. Then flushing with an -unpleasant consciousness, he asked - -How do you know? - -I called at Mrs. Plymdales this morning, and she told me that he had -taken the house in St. Peters Place, next to Mr. Hackbutts. - -Lydgate was silent. He drew his hands from behind his head and pressed -them against the hair which was hanging, as it was apt to do, in a mass -on his forehead, while he rested his elbows on his knees. He was -feeling bitter disappointment, as if he had opened a door out of a -suffocating place and had found it walled up; but he also felt sure -that Rosamond was pleased with the cause of his disappointment. He -preferred not looking at her and not speaking, until he had got over -the first spasm of vexation. After all, he said in his bitterness, what -can a woman care about so much as house and furniture? a husband -without them is an absurdity. When he looked up and pushed his hair -aside, his dark eyes had a miserable blank non-expectance of sympathy -in them, but he only said, coolly - -Perhaps some one else may turn up. I told Trumbull to be on the -look-out if he failed with Plymdale. - -Rosamond made no remark. She trusted to the chance that nothing more -would pass between her husband and the auctioneer until some issue -should have justified her interference; at any rate, she had hindered -the event which she immediately dreaded. After a pause, she said - -How much money is it that those disagreeable people want? - -What disagreeable people? - -Those who took the listand the others. I mean, how much money would -satisfy them so that you need not be troubled any more? - -Lydgate surveyed her for a moment, as if he were looking for symptoms, -and then said, Oh, if I could have got six hundred from Plymdale for -furniture and as premium, I might have managed. I could have paid off -Dover, and given enough on account to the others to make them wait -patiently, if we contracted our expenses. - -But I mean how much should you want if we stayed in this house? - -More than I am likely to get anywhere, said Lydgate, with rather a -grating sarcasm in his tone. It angered him to perceive that Rosamonds -mind was wandering over impracticable wishes instead of facing possible -efforts. - -Why should you not mention the sum? said Rosamond, with a mild -indication that she did not like his manners. - -Well, said Lydgate in a guessing tone, it would take at least a -thousand to set me at ease. But, he added, incisively, I have to -consider what I shall do without it, not with it. - -Rosamond said no more. - -But the next day she carried out her plan of writing to Sir Godwin -Lydgate. Since the Captains visit, she had received a letter from him, -and also one from Mrs. Mengan, his married sister, condoling with her -on the loss of her baby, and expressing vaguely the hope that they -should see her again at Quallingham. Lydgate had told her that this -politeness meant nothing; but she was secretly convinced that any -backwardness in Lydgates family towards him was due to his cold and -contemptuous behavior, and she had answered the letters in her most -charming manner, feeling some confidence that a specific invitation -would follow. But there had been total silence. The Captain evidently -was not a great penman, and Rosamond reflected that the sisters might -have been abroad. However, the season was come for thinking of friends -at home, and at any rate Sir Godwin, who had chucked her under the -chin, and pronounced her to be like the celebrated beauty, Mrs. Croly, -who had made a conquest of him in 1790, would be touched by any appeal -from her, and would find it pleasant for her sake to behave as he ought -to do towards his nephew. Rosamond was naively convinced of what an old -gentleman ought to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance. And she -wrote what she considered the most judicious letter possibleone which -would strike Sir Godwin as a proof of her excellent sensepointing out -how desirable it was that Tertius should quit such a place as -Middlemarch for one more fitted to his talents, how the unpleasant -character of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and -how in consequence he was in money difficulties, from which it would -require a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him. She did not say -that Tertius was unaware of her intention to write; for she had the -idea that his supposed sanction of her letter would be in accordance -with what she did say of his great regard for his uncle Godwin as the -relative who had always been his best friend. Such was the force of -Poor Rosamonds tactics now she applied them to affairs. - -This had happened before the party on New Years Day, and no answer had -yet come from Sir Godwin. But on the morning of that day Lydgate had to -learn that Rosamond had revoked his order to Borthrop Trumbull. Feeling -it necessary that she should be gradually accustomed to the idea of -their quitting the house in Lowick Gate, he overcame his reluctance to -speak to her again on the subject, and when they were breakfasting -said - -I shall try to see Trumbull this morning, and tell him to advertise -the house in the Pioneer and the Trumpet. If the thing were -advertised, some one might be inclined to take it who would not -otherwise have thought of a change. In these country places many people -go on in their old houses when their families are too large for them, -for want of knowing where they can find another. And Trumbull seems to -have got no bite at all. - -Rosamond knew that the inevitable moment was come. I ordered Trumbull -not to inquire further, she said, with a careful calmness which was -evidently defensive. - -Lydgate stared at her in mute amazement. Only half an hour before he -had been fastening up her plaits for her, and talking the little -language of affection, which Rosamond, though not returning it, -accepted as if she had been a serene and lovely image, now and then -miraculously dimpling towards her votary. With such fibres still astir -in him, the shock he received could not at once be distinctly anger; it -was confused pain. He laid down the knife and fork with which he was -carving, and throwing himself back in his chair, said at last, with a -cool irony in his tone - -May I ask when and why you did so? - -When I knew that the Plymdales had taken a house, I called to tell him -not to mention ours to them; and at the same time I told him not to let -the affair go on any further. I knew that it would be very injurious to -you if it were known that you wished to part with your house and -furniture, and I had a very strong objection to it. I think that was -reason enough. - -It was of no consequence then that I had told you imperative reasons -of another kind; of no consequence that I had come to a different -conclusion, and given an order accordingly? said Lydgate, bitingly, -the thunder and lightning gathering about his brow and eyes. - -The effect of any ones anger on Rosamond had always been to make her -shrink in cold dislike, and to become all the more calmly correct, in -the conviction that she was not the person to misbehave whatever others -might do. She replied - -I think I had a perfect right to speak on a subject which concerns me -at least as much as you. - -Clearlyyou had a right to speak, but only to me. You had no right to -contradict my orders secretly, and treat me as if I were a fool, said -Lydgate, in the same tone as before. Then with some added scorn, Is it -possible to make you understand what the consequences will be? Is it of -any use for me to tell you again why we must try to part with the -house? - -It is not necessary for you to tell me again, said Rosamond, in a -voice that fell and trickled like cold water-drops. I remembered what -you said. You spoke just as violently as you do now. But that does not -alter my opinion that you ought to try every other means rather than -take a step which is so painful to me. And as to advertising the house, -I think it would be perfectly degrading to you. - -And suppose I disregard your opinion as you disregard mine? - -You can do so, of course. But I think you ought to have told me before -we were married that you would place me in the worst position, rather -than give up your own will. - -Lydgate did not speak, but tossed his head on one side, and twitched -the corners of his mouth in despair. Rosamond, seeing that he was not -looking at her, rose and set his cup of coffee before him; but he took -no notice of it, and went on with an inward drama and argument, -occasionally moving in his seat, resting one arm on the table, and -rubbing his hand against his hair. There was a conflux of emotions and -thoughts in him that would not let him either give thorough way to his -anger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Rosamond took -advantage of his silence. - -When we were married everyone felt that your position was very high. I -could not have imagined then that you would want to sell our furniture, -and take a house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like cages. If we -are to live in that way let us at least leave Middlemarch. - -These would be very strong considerations, said Lydgate, half -ironicallystill there was a withered paleness about his lips as he -looked at his coffee, and did not drinkthese would be very strong -considerations if I did not happen to be in debt. - -Many persons must have been in debt in the same way, but if they are -respectable, people trust them. I am sure I have heard papa say that -the Torbits were in debt, and they went on very well. It cannot be good -to act rashly, said Rosamond, with serene wisdom. - -Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning he could -apply to Rosamond seemed likely to conquer her assent, he wanted to -smash and grind some object on which he could at least produce an -impression, or else to tell her brutally that he was master, and she -must obey. But he not only dreaded the effect of such extremities on -their mutual lifehe had a growing dread of Rosamonds quiet elusive -obstinacy, which would not allow any assertion of power to be final; -and again, she had touched him in a spot of keenest feeling by implying -that she had been deluded with a false vision of happiness in marrying -him. As to saying that he was master, it was not the fact. The very -resolution to which he had wrought himself by dint of logic and -honorable pride was beginning to relax under her torpedo contact. He -swallowed half his cup of coffee, and then rose to go. - -I may at least request that you will not go to Trumbull at -presentuntil it has been seen that there are no other means, said -Rosamond. Although she was not subject to much fear, she felt it safer -not to betray that she had written to Sir Godwin. Promise me that you -will not go to him for a few weeks, or without telling me. - -Lydgate gave a short laugh. I think it is I who should exact a promise -that you will do nothing without telling me, he said, turning his eyes -sharply upon her, and then moving to the door. - -You remember that we are going to dine at papas, said Rosamond, -wishing that he should turn and make a more thorough concession to her. -But he only said Oh yes, impatiently, and went away. She held it to -be very odious in him that he did not think the painful propositions he -had had to make to her were enough, without showing so unpleasant a -temper. And when she put the moderate request that he would defer going -to Trumbull again, it was cruel in him not to assure her of what he -meant to do. She was convinced of her having acted in every way for the -best; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgates served only as an -addition to the register of offences in her mind. Poor Rosamond for -months had begun to associate her husband with feelings of -disappointment, and the terribly inflexible relation of marriage had -lost its charm of encouraging delightful dreams. It had freed her from -the disagreeables of her fathers house, but it had not given her -everything that she had wished and hoped. The Lydgate with whom she had -been in love had been a group of airy conditions for her, most of which -had disappeared, while their place had been taken by every-day details -which must be lived through slowly from hour to hour, not floated -through with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. The habits of -Lydgates profession, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, -which seemed to her almost like a morbid vampires taste, his peculiar -views of things which had never entered into the dialogue of -courtshipall these continually alienating influences, even without the -fact of his having placed himself at a disadvantage in the town, and -without that first shock of revelation about Dovers debt, would have -made his presence dull to her. There was another presence which ever -since the early days of her marriage, until four months ago, had been -an agreeable excitement, but that was gone: Rosamond would not confess -to herself how much the consequent blank had to do with her utter -ennui; and it seemed to her (perhaps she was right) that an invitation -to Quallingham, and an opening for Lydgate to settle elsewhere than in -Middlemarchin London, or somewhere likely to be free from -unpleasantnesswould satisfy her quite well, and make her indifferent -to the absence of Will Ladislaw, towards whom she felt some resentment -for his exaltation of Mrs. Casaubon. - -That was the state of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the New -Years Day when they dined at her fathers, she looking mildly neutral -towards him in remembrance of his ill-tempered behavior at breakfast, -and he carrying a much deeper effect from the inward conflict in which -that morning scene was only one of many epochs. His flushed effort -while talking to Mr. Farebrotherhis effort after the cynical pretence -that all ways of getting money are essentially the same, and that -chance has an empire which reduces choice to a fools illusionwas but -the symptom of a wavering resolve, a benumbed response to the old -stimuli of enthusiasm. - -What was he to do? He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the -dreariness of taking her into the small house in Bride Street, where -she would have scanty furniture around her and discontent within: a -life of privation and life with Rosamond were two images which had -become more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation -had disclosed itself. But even if his resolves had forced the two -images into combination, the useful preliminaries to that hard change -were not visibly within reach. And though he had not given the promise -which his wife had asked for, he did not go again to Trumbull. He even -began to think of taking a rapid journey to the North and seeing Sir -Godwin. He had once believed that nothing would urge him into making an -application for money to his uncle, but he had not then known the full -pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. He could not depend on -the effect of a letter; it was only in an interview, however -disagreeable this might be to himself, that he could give a thorough -explanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship. No sooner had -Lydgate begun to represent this step to himself as the easiest than -there was a reaction of anger that hehe who had long ago determined to -live aloof from such abject calculations, such self-interested anxiety -about the inclinations and the pockets of men with whom he had been -proud to have no aims in commonshould have fallen not simply to their -level, but to the level of soliciting them. - - - - -CHAPTER LXV. - -One of us two must bowen douteless, -And, sith a man is more reasonable -Than woman is, ye [men] moste be suffrable. -CHAUCER: _Canterbury Tales_. - - -The bias of human nature to be slow in correspondence triumphs even -over the present quickening in the general pace of things: what wonder -then that in 1832 old Sir Godwin Lydgate was slow to write a letter -which was of consequence to others rather than to himself? Nearly three -weeks of the new year were gone, and Rosamond, awaiting an answer to -her winning appeal, was every day disappointed. Lydgate, in total -ignorance of her expectations, was seeing the bills come in, and -feeling that Dovers use of his advantage over other creditors was -imminent. He had never mentioned to Rosamond his brooding purpose of -going to Quallingham: he did not want to admit what would appear to her -a concession to her wishes after indignant refusal, until the last -moment; but he was really expecting to set off soon. A slice of the -railway would enable him to manage the whole journey and back in four -days. - -But one morning after Lydgate had gone out, a letter came addressed to -him, which Rosamond saw clearly to be from Sir Godwin. She was full of -hope. Perhaps there might be a particular note to her enclosed; but -Lydgate was naturally addressed on the question of money or other aid, -and the fact that he was written to, nay, the very delay in writing at -all, seemed to certify that the answer was thoroughly compliant. She -was too much excited by these thoughts to do anything but light -stitching in a warm corner of the dining-room, with the outside of this -momentous letter lying on the table before her. About twelve she heard -her husbands step in the passage, and tripping to open the door, she -said in her lightest tones, Tertius, come in herehere is a letter for -you. - -Ah? he said, not taking off his hat, but just turning her round -within his arm to walk towards the spot where the letter lay. My uncle -Godwin! he exclaimed, while Rosamond reseated herself, and watched him -as he opened the letter. She had expected him to be surprised. - -While Lydgates eyes glanced rapidly over the brief letter, she saw his -face, usually of a pale brown, taking on a dry whiteness; with nostrils -and lips quivering he tossed down the letter before her, and said -violently - -It will be impossible to endure life with you, if you will always be -acting secretlyacting in opposition to me and hiding your actions. - -He checked his speech and turned his back on herthen wheeled round and -walked about, sat down, and got up again restlessly, grasping hard the -objects deep down in his pockets. He was afraid of saying something -irremediably cruel. - -Rosamond too had changed color as she read. The letter ran in this -way: - -DEAR TERTIUS,Dont set your wife to write to me when you have -anything to ask. It is a roundabout wheedling sort of thing which I -should not have credited you with. I never choose to write to a woman -on matters of business. As to my supplying you with a thousand pounds, -or only half that sum, I can do nothing of the sort. My own family -drains me to the last penny. With two younger sons and three daughters, -I am not likely to have cash to spare. You seem to have got through -your own money pretty quickly, and to have made a mess where you are; -the sooner you go somewhere else the better. But I have nothing to do -with men of your profession, and cant help you there. I did the best I -could for you as guardian, and let you have your own way in taking to -medicine. You might have gone into the army or the Church. Your money -would have held out for that, and there would have been a surer ladder -before you. Your uncle Charles has had a grudge against you for not -going into his profession, but not I. I have always wished you well, -but you must consider yourself on your own legs entirely now. - - -Your affectionate uncle, -GODWIN LYDGATE. - - -When Rosamond had finished reading the letter she sat quite still, with -her hands folded before her, restraining any show of her keen -disappointment, and intrenching herself in quiet passivity under her -husbands wrath. Lydgate paused in his movements, looked at her again, -and said, with biting severity - -Will this be enough to convince you of the harm you may do by secret -meddling? Have you sense enough to recognize now your incompetence to -judge and act for meto interfere with your ignorance in affairs which -it belongs to me to decide on? - -The words were hard; but this was not the first time that Lydgate had -been frustrated by her. She did not look at him, and made no reply. - -I had nearly resolved on going to Quallingham. It would have cost me -pain enough to do it, yet it might have been of some use. But it has -been of no use for me to think of anything. You have always been -counteracting me secretly. You delude me with a false assent, and then -I am at the mercy of your devices. If you mean to resist every wish I -express, say so and defy me. I shall at least know what I am doing -then. - -It is a terrible moment in young lives when the closeness of loves -bond has turned to this power of galling. In spite of Rosamonds -self-control a tear fell silently and rolled over her lips. She still -said nothing; but under that quietude was hidden an intense effect: she -was in such entire disgust with her husband that she wished she had -never seen him. Sir Godwins rudeness towards her and utter want of -feeling ranged him with Dover and all other creditorsdisagreeable -people who only thought of themselves, and did not mind how annoying -they were to her. Even her father was unkind, and might have done more -for them. In fact there was but one person in Rosamonds world whom she -did not regard as blameworthy, and that was the graceful creature with -blond plaits and with little hands crossed before her, who had never -expressed herself unbecomingly, and had always acted for the bestthe -best naturally being what she best liked. - -Lydgate pausing and looking at her began to feel that half-maddening -sense of helplessness which comes over passionate people when their -passion is met by an innocent-looking silence whose meek victimized air -seems to put them in the wrong, and at last infects even the justest -indignation with a doubt of its justice. He needed to recover the full -sense that he was in the right by moderating his words. - -Can you not see, Rosamond, he began again, trying to be simply grave -and not bitter, that nothing can be so fatal as a want of openness and -confidence between us? It has happened again and again that I have -expressed a decided wish, and you have seemed to assent, yet after that -you have secretly disobeyed my wish. In that way I can never know what -I have to trust to. There would be some hope for us if you would admit -this. Am I such an unreasonable, furious brute? Why should you not be -open with me? Still silence. - -Will you only say that you have been mistaken, and that I may depend -on your not acting secretly in future? said Lydgate, urgently, but -with something of request in his tone which Rosamond was quick to -perceive. She spoke with coolness. - -I cannot possibly make admissions or promises in answer to such words -as you have used towards me. I have not been accustomed to language of -that kind. You have spoken of my secret meddling, and my interfering -ignorance, and my false assent. I have never expressed myself in -that way to you, and I think that you ought to apologize. You spoke of -its being impossible to live with me. Certainly you have not made my -life pleasant to me of late. I think it was to be expected that I -should try to avert some of the hardships which our marriage has -brought on me. Another tear fell as Rosamond ceased speaking, and she -pressed it away as quietly as the first. - -Lydgate flung himself into a chair, feeling checkmated. What place was -there in her mind for a remonstrance to lodge in? He laid down his hat, -flung an arm over the back of his chair, and looked down for some -moments without speaking. Rosamond had the double purchase over him of -insensibility to the point of justice in his reproach, and of -sensibility to the undeniable hardships now present in her married -life. Although her duplicity in the affair of the house had exceeded -what he knew, and had really hindered the Plymdales from knowing of it, -she had no consciousness that her action could rightly be called false. -We are not obliged to identify our own acts according to a strict -classification, any more than the materials of our grocery and clothes. -Rosamond felt that she was aggrieved, and that this was what Lydgate -had to recognize. - -As for him, the need of accommodating himself to her nature, which was -inflexible in proportion to its negations, held him as with pincers. He -had begun to have an alarmed foresight of her irrevocable loss of love -for him, and the consequent dreariness of their life. The ready fulness -of his emotions made this dread alternate quickly with the first -violent movements of his anger. It would assuredly have been a vain -boast in him to say that he was her master. - -You have not made my life pleasant to me of latethe hardships which -our marriage has brought on methese words were stinging his -imagination as a pain makes an exaggerated dream. If he were not only -to sink from his highest resolve, but to sink into the hideous -fettering of domestic hate? - -Rosamond, he said, turning his eyes on her with a melancholy look, -you should allow for a mans words when he is disappointed and -provoked. You and I cannot have opposite interests. I cannot part my -happiness from yours. If I am angry with you, it is that you seem not -to see how any concealment divides us. How could I wish to make -anything hard to you either by my words or conduct? When I hurt you, I -hurt part of my own life. I should never be angry with you if you would -be quite open with me. - -I have only wished to prevent you from hurrying us into wretchedness -without any necessity, said Rosamond, the tears coming again from a -softened feeling now that her husband had softened. It is so very hard -to be disgraced here among all the people we know, and to live in such -a miserable way. I wish I had died with the baby. - -She spoke and wept with that gentleness which makes such words and -tears omnipotent over a loving-hearted man. Lydgate drew his chair near -to hers and pressed her delicate head against his cheek with his -powerful tender hand. He only caressed her; he did not say anything; -for what was there to say? He could not promise to shield her from the -dreaded wretchedness, for he could see no sure means of doing so. When -he left her to go out again, he told himself that it was ten times -harder for her than for him: he had a life away from home, and constant -appeals to his activity on behalf of others. He wished to excuse -everything in her if he couldbut it was inevitable that in that -excusing mood he should think of her as if she were an animal of -another and feebler species. Nevertheless she had mastered him. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVI. - -Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, -Another thing to fall. -_Measure for Measure_. - - -Lydgate certainly had good reason to reflect on the service his -practice did him in counteracting his personal cares. He had no longer -free energy enough for spontaneous research and speculative thinking, -but by the bedside of patients, the direct external calls on his -judgment and sympathies brought the added impulse needed to draw him -out of himself. It was not simply that beneficent harness of routine -which enables silly men to live respectably and unhappy men to live -calmlyit was a perpetual claim on the immediate fresh application of -thought, and on the consideration of anothers need and trial. Many of -us looking back through life would say that the kindest man we have -ever known has been a medical man, or perhaps that surgeon whose fine -tact, directed by deeply informed perception, has come to us in our -need with a more sublime beneficence than that of miracle-workers. Some -of that twice-blessed mercy was always with Lydgate in his work at the -Hospital or in private houses, serving better than any opiate to quiet -and sustain him under his anxieties and his sense of mental degeneracy. - -Mr. Farebrothers suspicion as to the opiate was true, however. Under -the first galling pressure of foreseen difficulties, and the first -perception that his marriage, if it were not to be a yoked loneliness, -must be a state of effort to go on loving without too much care about -being loved, he had once or twice tried a dose of opium. But he had no -hereditary constitutional craving after such transient escapes from the -hauntings of misery. He was strong, could drink a great deal of wine, -but did not care about it; and when the men round him were drinking -spirits, he took sugar and water, having a contemptuous pity even for -the earliest stages of excitement from drink. It was the same with -gambling. He had looked on at a great deal of gambling in Paris, -watching it as if it had been a disease. He was no more tempted by such -winning than he was by drink. He had said to himself that the only -winning he cared for must be attained by a conscious process of high, -difficult combination tending towards a beneficent result. The power he -longed for could not be represented by agitated fingers clutching a -heap of coin, or by the half-barbarous, half-idiotic triumph in the -eyes of a man who sweeps within his arms the ventures of twenty -chapfallen companions. - -But just as he had tried opium, so his thought now began to turn upon -gamblingnot with appetite for its excitement, but with a sort of -wistful inward gaze after that easy way of getting money, which implied -no asking and brought no responsibility. If he had been in London or -Paris at that time, it is probable that such thoughts, seconded by -opportunity, would have taken him into a gambling-house, no longer to -watch the gamblers, but to watch with them in kindred eagerness. -Repugnance would have been surmounted by the immense need to win, if -chance would be kind enough to let him. An incident which happened not -very long after that airy notion of getting aid from his uncle had been -excluded, was a strong sign of the effect that might have followed any -extant opportunity of gambling. - -The billiard-room at the Green Dragon was the constant resort of a -certain set, most of whom, like our acquaintance Mr. Bambridge, were -regarded as men of pleasure. It was here that poor Fred Vincy had made -part of his memorable debt, having lost money in betting, and been -obliged to borrow of that gay companion. It was generally known in -Middlemarch that a good deal of money was lost and won in this way; and -the consequent repute of the Green Dragon as a place of dissipation -naturally heightened in some quarters the temptation to go there. -Probably its regular visitants, like the initiates of freemasonry, -wished that there were something a little more tremendous to keep to -themselves concerning it; but they were not a closed community, and -many decent seniors as well as juniors occasionally turned into the -billiard-room to see what was going on. Lydgate, who had the muscular -aptitude for billiards, and was fond of the game, had once or twice in -the early days after his arrival in Middlemarch taken his turn with the -cue at the Green Dragon; but afterwards he had no leisure for the game, -and no inclination for the socialities there. One evening, however, he -had occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge at that resort. The horsedealer had -engaged to get him a customer for his remaining good horse, for which -Lydgate had determined to substitute a cheap hack, hoping by this -reduction of style to get perhaps twenty pounds; and he cared now for -every small sum, as a help towards feeding the patience of his -tradesmen. To run up to the billiard-room, as he was passing, would -save time. - -Mr. Bambridge was not yet come, but would be sure to arrive by-and-by, -said his friend Mr. Horrock; and Lydgate stayed, playing a game for the -sake of passing the time. That evening he had the peculiar light in the -eyes and the unusual vivacity which had been once noticed in him by Mr. -Farebrother. The exceptional fact of his presence was much noticed in -the room, where there was a good deal of Middlemarch company; and -several lookers-on, as well as some of the players, were betting with -animation. Lydgate was playing well, and felt confident; the bets were -dropping round him, and with a swift glancing thought of the probable -gain which might double the sum he was saving from his horse, he began -to bet on his own play, and won again and again. Mr. Bambridge had come -in, but Lydgate did not notice him. He was not only excited with his -play, but visions were gleaming on him of going the next day to -Brassing, where there was gambling on a grander scale to be had, and -where, by one powerful snatch at the devils bait, he might carry it -off without the hook, and buy his rescue from his daily solicitings. - -He was still winning when two new visitors entered. One of them was a -young Hawley, just come from his law studies in town, and the other was -Fred Vincy, who had spent several evenings of late at this old haunt of -his. Young Hawley, an accomplished billiard-player, brought a cool -fresh hand to the cue. But Fred Vincy, startled at seeing Lydgate, and -astonished to see him betting with an excited air, stood aside, and -kept out of the circle round the table. - -Fred had been rewarding resolution by a little laxity of late. He had -been working heartily for six months at all outdoor occupations under -Mr. Garth, and by dint of severe practice had nearly mastered the -defects of his handwriting, this practice being, perhaps, a little the -less severe that it was often carried on in the evening at Mr. Garths -under the eyes of Mary. But the last fortnight Mary had been staying at -Lowick Parsonage with the ladies there, during Mr. Farebrothers -residence in Middlemarch, where he was carrying out some parochial -plans; and Fred, not seeing anything more agreeable to do, had turned -into the Green Dragon, partly to play at billiards, partly to taste the -old flavor of discourse about horses, sport, and things in general, -considered from a point of view which was not strenuously correct. He -had not been out hunting once this season, had had no horse of his own -to ride, and had gone from place to place chiefly with Mr. Garth in his -gig, or on the sober cob which Mr. Garth could lend him. It was a -little too bad, Fred began to think, that he should be kept in the -traces with more severity than if he had been a clergyman. I will tell -you what, Mistress Maryit will be rather harder work to learn -surveying and drawing plans than it would have been to write sermons, -he had said, wishing her to appreciate what he went through for her -sake; and as to Hercules and Theseus, they were nothing to me. They -had sport, and never learned to write a bookkeeping hand. And now, -Mary being out of the way for a little while, Fred, like any other -strong dog who cannot slip his collar, had pulled up the staple of his -chain and made a small escape, not of course meaning to go fast or far. -There could be no reason why he should not play at billiards, but he -was determined not to bet. As to money just now, Fred had in his mind -the heroic project of saving almost all of the eighty pounds that Mr. -Garth offered him, and returning it, which he could easily do by giving -up all futile money-spending, since he had a superfluous stock of -clothes, and no expense in his board. In that way he could, in one -year, go a good way towards repaying the ninety pounds of which he had -deprived Mrs. Garth, unhappily at a time when she needed that sum more -than she did now. Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that on this -evening, which was the fifth of his recent visits to the billiard-room, -Fred had, not in his pocket, but in his mind, the ten pounds which he -meant to reserve for himself from his half-years salary (having before -him the pleasure of carrying thirty to Mrs. Garth when Mary was likely -to be come home again)he had those ten pounds in his mind as a fund -from which he might risk something, if there were a chance of a good -bet. Why? Well, when sovereigns were flying about, why shouldnt he -catch a few? He would never go far along that road again; but a man -likes to assure himself, and men of pleasure generally, what he could -do in the way of mischief if he chose, and that if he abstains from -making himself ill, or beggaring himself, or talking with the utmost -looseness which the narrow limits of human capacity will allow, it is -not because he is a spooney. Fred did not enter into formal reasons, -which are a very artificial, inexact way of representing the tingling -returns of old habit, and the caprices of young blood: but there was -lurking in him a prophetic sense that evening, that when he began to -play he should also begin to betthat he should enjoy some -punch-drinking, and in general prepare himself for feeling rather -seedy in the morning. It is in such indefinable movements that action -often begins. - -But the last thing likely to have entered Freds expectation was that -he should see his brother-in-law Lydgateof whom he had never quite -dropped the old opinion that he was a prig, and tremendously conscious -of his superioritylooking excited and betting, just as he himself -might have done. Fred felt a shock greater than he could quite account -for by the vague knowledge that Lydgate was in debt, and that his -father had refused to help him; and his own inclination to enter into -the play was suddenly checked. It was a strange reversal of attitudes: -Freds blond face and blue eyes, usually bright and careless, ready to -give attention to anything that held out a promise of amusement, -looking involuntarily grave and almost embarrassed as if by the sight -of something unfitting; while Lydgate, who had habitually an air of -self-possessed strength, and a certain meditativeness that seemed to -lie behind his most observant attention, was acting, watching, speaking -with that excited narrow consciousness which reminds one of an animal -with fierce eyes and retractile claws. - -Lydgate, by betting on his own strokes, had won sixteen pounds; but -young Hawleys arrival had changed the poise of things. He made -first-rate strokes himself, and began to bet against Lydgates strokes, -the strain of whose nerves was thus changed from simple confidence in -his own movements to defying another persons doubt in them. The -defiance was more exciting than the confidence, but it was less sure. -He continued to bet on his own play, but began often to fail. Still he -went on, for his mind was as utterly narrowed into that precipitous -crevice of play as if he had been the most ignorant lounger there. Fred -observed that Lydgate was losing fast, and found himself in the new -situation of puzzling his brains to think of some device by which, -without being offensive, he could withdraw Lydgates attention, and -perhaps suggest to him a reason for quitting the room. He saw that -others were observing Lydgates strange unlikeness to himself, and it -occurred to him that merely to touch his elbow and call him aside for a -moment might rouse him from his absorption. He could think of nothing -cleverer than the daring improbability of saying that he wanted to see -Rosy, and wished to know if she were at home this evening; and he was -going desperately to carry out this weak device, when a waiter came up -to him with a message, saying that Mr. Farebrother was below, and -begged to speak with him. - -Fred was surprised, not quite comfortably, but sending word that he -would be down immediately, he went with a new impulse up to Lydgate, -said, Can I speak to you a moment? and drew him aside. - -Farebrother has just sent up a message to say that he wants to speak -to me. He is below. I thought you might like to know he was there, if -you had anything to say to him. - -Fred had simply snatched up this pretext for speaking, because he could -not say, You are losing confoundedly, and are making everybody stare -at you; you had better come away. But inspiration could hardly have -served him better. Lydgate had not before seen that Fred was present, -and his sudden appearance with an announcement of Mr. Farebrother had -the effect of a sharp concussion. - -No, no, said Lydgate; I have nothing particular to say to him. -Butthe game is upI must be goingI came in just to see Bambridge. - -Bambridge is over there, but he is making a rowI dont think hes -ready for business. Come down with me to Farebrother. I expect he is -going to blow me up, and you will shield me, said Fred, with some -adroitness. - -Lydgate felt shame, but could not bear to act as if he felt it, by -refusing to see Mr. Farebrother; and he went down. They merely shook -hands, however, and spoke of the frost; and when all three had turned -into the street, the Vicar seemed quite willing to say good-by to -Lydgate. His present purpose was clearly to talk with Fred alone, and -he said, kindly, I disturbed you, young gentleman, because I have some -pressing business with you. Walk with me to St. Botolphs, will you? - -It was a fine night, the sky thick with stars, and Mr. Farebrother -proposed that they should make a circuit to the old church by the -London road. The next thing he said was - -I thought Lydgate never went to the Green Dragon? - -So did I, said Fred. But he said that he went to see Bambridge. - -He was not playing, then? - -Fred had not meant to tell this, but he was obliged now to say, Yes, -he was. But I suppose it was an accidental thing. I have never seen him -there before. - -You have been going often yourself, then, lately? - -Oh, about five or six times. - -I think you had some good reason for giving up the habit of going -there? - -Yes. You know all about it, said Fred, not liking to be catechised in -this way. I made a clean breast to you. - -I suppose that gives me a warrant to speak about the matter now. It is -understood between us, is it not?that we are on a footing of open -friendship: I have listened to you, and you will be willing to listen -to me. I may take my turn in talking a little about myself? - -I am under the deepest obligation to you, Mr. Farebrother, said Fred, -in a state of uncomfortable surmise. - -I will not affect to deny that you are under some obligation to me. -But I am going to confess to you, Fred, that I have been tempted to -reverse all that by keeping silence with you just now. When somebody -said to me, Young Vincy has taken to being at the billiard-table every -night againhe wont bear the curb long; I was tempted to do the -opposite of what I am doingto hold my tongue and wait while you went -down the ladder again, betting first and then - -I have not made any bets, said Fred, hastily. - -Glad to hear it. But I say, my prompting was to look on and see you -take the wrong turning, wear out Garths patience, and lose the best -opportunity of your lifethe opportunity which you made some rather -difficult effort to secure. You can guess the feeling which raised that -temptation in meI am sure you know it. I am sure you know that the -satisfaction of your affections stands in the way of mine. - -There was a pause. Mr. Farebrother seemed to wait for a recognition of -the fact; and the emotion perceptible in the tones of his fine voice -gave solemnity to his words. But no feeling could quell Freds alarm. - -I could not be expected to give her up, he said, after a moments -hesitation: it was not a case for any pretence of generosity. - -Clearly not, when her affection met yours. But relations of this sort, -even when they are of long standing, are always liable to change. I can -easily conceive that you might act in a way to loosen the tie she feels -towards youit must be remembered that she is only conditionally bound -to youand that in that case, another man, who may flatter himself that -he has a hold on her regard, might succeed in winning that firm place -in her love as well as respect which you had let slip. I can easily -conceive such a result, repeated Mr. Farebrother, emphatically. There -is a companionship of ready sympathy, which might get the advantage -even over the longest associations. It seemed to Fred that if Mr. -Farebrother had had a beak and talons instead of his very capable -tongue, his mode of attack could hardly be more cruel. He had a -horrible conviction that behind all this hypothetic statement there was -a knowledge of some actual change in Marys feeling. - -Of course I know it might easily be all up with me, he said, in a -troubled voice. If she is beginning to compare He broke off, not -liking to betray all he felt, and then said, by the help of a little -bitterness, But I thought you were friendly to me. - -So I am; that is why we are here. But I have had a strong disposition -to be otherwise. I have said to myself, If there is a likelihood of -that youngster doing himself harm, why should you interfere? Arent you -worth as much as he is, and dont your sixteen years over and above -his, in which you have gone rather hungry, give you more right to -satisfaction than he has? If theres a chance of his going to the dogs, -let himperhaps you could nohow hinder itand do you take the -benefit. - -There was a pause, in which Fred was seized by a most uncomfortable -chill. What was coming next? He dreaded to hear that something had been -said to Maryhe felt as if he were listening to a threat rather than a -warning. When the Vicar began again there was a change in his tone like -the encouraging transition to a major key. - -But I had once meant better than that, and I am come back to my old -intention. I thought that I could hardly _secure myself_ in it better, -Fred, than by telling you just what had gone on in me. And now, do you -understand me? I want you to make the happiness of her life and your -own, and if there is any chance that a word of warning from me may turn -aside any risk to the contrarywell, I have uttered it. - -There was a drop in the Vicars voice when he spoke the last words. He -pausedthey were standing on a patch of green where the road diverged -towards St. Botolphs, and he put out his hand, as if to imply that the -conversation was closed. Fred was moved quite newly. Some one highly -susceptible to the contemplation of a fine act has said, that it -produces a sort of regenerating shudder through the frame, and makes -one feel ready to begin a new life. A good degree of that effect was -just then present in Fred Vincy. - -I will try to be worthy, he said, breaking off before he could say -of you as well as of her. And meanwhile Mr. Farebrother had gathered -the impulse to say something more. - -You must not imagine that I believe there is at present any decline in -her preference of you, Fred. Set your heart at rest, that if you keep -right, other things will keep right. - -I shall never forget what you have done, Fred answered. I cant say -anything that seems worth sayingonly I will try that your goodness -shall not be thrown away. - -Thats enough. Good-by, and God bless you. - -In that way they parted. But both of them walked about a long while -before they went out of the starlight. Much of Freds rumination might -be summed up in the words, It certainly would have been a fine thing -for her to marry Farebrotherbut if she loves me best and I am a good -husband? - -Perhaps Mr. Farebrothers might be concentrated into a single shrug and -one little speech. To think of the part one little woman can play in -the life of a man, so that to renounce her may be a very good imitation -of heroism, and to win her may be a discipline! - - - - -CHAPTER LXVII. - -Now is there civil war within the soul: -Resolve is thrust from off the sacred throne -By clamorous Needs, and Pride the grand-vizier -Makes humble compact, plays the supple part -Of envoy and deft-tongued apologist -For hungry rebels. - - -Happily Lydgate had ended by losing in the billiard-room, and brought -away no encouragement to make a raid on luck. On the contrary, he felt -unmixed disgust with himself the next day when he had to pay four or -five pounds over and above his gains, and he carried about with him a -most unpleasant vision of the figure he had made, not only rubbing -elbows with the men at the Green Dragon but behaving just as they did. -A philosopher fallen to betting is hardly distinguishable from a -Philistine under the same circumstances: the difference will chiefly be -found in his subsequent reflections, and Lydgate chewed a very -disagreeable cud in that way. His reason told him how the affair might -have been magnified into ruin by a slight change of sceneryif it had -been a gambling-house that he had turned into, where chance could be -clutched with both hands instead of being picked up with thumb and -fore-finger. Nevertheless, though reason strangled the desire to -gamble, there remained the feeling that, with an assurance of luck to -the needful amount, he would have liked to gamble, rather than take the -alternative which was beginning to urge itself as inevitable. - -That alternative was to apply to Mr. Bulstrode. Lydgate had so many -times boasted both to himself and others that he was totally -independent of Bulstrode, to whose plans he had lent himself solely -because they enabled him to carry out his own ideas of professional -work and public benefithe had so constantly in their personal -intercourse had his pride sustained by the sense that he was making a -good social use of this predominating banker, whose opinions he thought -contemptible and whose motives often seemed to him an absurd mixture of -contradictory impressionsthat he had been creating for himself strong -ideal obstacles to the proffering of any considerable request to him on -his own account. - -Still, early in March his affairs were at that pass in which men begin -to say that their oaths were delivered in ignorance, and to perceive -that the act which they had called impossible to them is becoming -manifestly possible. With Dovers ugly security soon to be put in -force, with the proceeds of his practice immediately absorbed in paying -back debts, and with the chance, if the worst were known, of daily -supplies being refused on credit, above all with the vision of -Rosamonds hopeless discontent continually haunting him, Lydgate had -begun to see that he should inevitably bend himself to ask help from -somebody or other. At first he had considered whether he should write -to Mr. Vincy; but on questioning Rosamond he found that, as he had -suspected, she had already applied twice to her father, the last time -being since the disappointment from Sir Godwin; and papa had said that -Lydgate must look out for himself. Papa said he had come, with one bad -year after another, to trade more and more on borrowed capital, and had -had to give up many indulgences; he could not spare a single hundred -from the charges of his family. He said, let Lydgate ask Bulstrode: -they have always been hand and glove. - -Indeed, Lydgate himself had come to the conclusion that if he must end -by asking for a free loan, his relations with Bulstrode, more at least -than with any other man, might take the shape of a claim which was not -purely personal. Bulstrode had indirectly helped to cause the failure -of his practice, and had also been highly gratified by getting a -medical partner in his plans:but who among us ever reduced himself to -the sort of dependence in which Lydgate now stood, without trying to -believe that he had claims which diminished the humiliation of asking? -It was true that of late there had seemed to be a new languor of -interest in Bulstrode about the Hospital; but his health had got worse, -and showed signs of a deep-seated nervous affection. In other respects -he did not appear to be changed: he had always been highly polite, but -Lydgate had observed in him from the first a marked coldness about his -marriage and other private circumstances, a coldness which he had -hitherto preferred to any warmth of familiarity between them. He -deferred the intention from day to day, his habit of acting on his -conclusions being made infirm by his repugnance to every possible -conclusion and its consequent act. He saw Mr. Bulstrode often, but he -did not try to use any occasion for his private purpose. At one moment -he thought, I will write a letter: I prefer that to any circuitous -talk; at another he thought, No; if I were talking to him, I could -make a retreat before any signs of disinclination. - -Still the days passed and no letter was written, no special interview -sought. In his shrinking from the humiliation of a dependent attitude -towards Bulstrode, he began to familiarize his imagination with another -step even more unlike his remembered self. He began spontaneously to -consider whether it would be possible to carry out that puerile notion -of Rosamonds which had often made him angry, namely, that they should -quit Middlemarch without seeing anything beyond that preface. The -question cameWould any man buy the practice of me even now, for as -little as it is worth? Then the sale might happen as a necessary -preparation for going away. - -But against his taking this step, which he still felt to be a -contemptible relinquishment of present work, a guilty turning aside -from what was a real and might be a widening channel for worthy -activity, to start again without any justified destination, there was -this obstacle, that the purchaser, if procurable at all, might not be -quickly forthcoming. And afterwards? Rosamond in a poor lodging, though -in the largest city or most distant town, would not find the life that -could save her from gloom, and save him from the reproach of having -plunged her into it. For when a man is at the foot of the hill in his -fortunes, he may stay a long while there in spite of professional -accomplishment. In the British climate there is no incompatibility -between scientific insight and furnished lodgings: the incompatibility -is chiefly between scientific ambition and a wife who objects to that -kind of residence. - -But in the midst of his hesitation, opportunity came to decide him. A -note from Mr. Bulstrode requested Lydgate to call on him at the Bank. A -hypochondriacal tendency had shown itself in the bankers constitution -of late; and a lack of sleep, which was really only a slight -exaggeration of an habitual dyspeptic symptom, had been dwelt on by him -as a sign of threatening insanity. He wanted to consult Lydgate without -delay on that particular morning, although he had nothing to tell -beyond what he had told before. He listened eagerly to what Lydgate had -to say in dissipation of his fears, though this too was only -repetition; and this moment in which Bulstrode was receiving a medical -opinion with a sense of comfort, seemed to make the communication of a -personal need to him easier than it had been in Lydgates contemplation -beforehand. He had been insisting that it would be well for Mr. -Bulstrode to relax his attention to business. - -One sees how any mental strain, however slight, may affect a delicate -frame, said Lydgate at that stage of the consultation when the remarks -tend to pass from the personal to the general, by the deep stamp which -anxiety will make for a time even on the young and vigorous. I am -naturally very strong; yet I have been thoroughly shaken lately by an -accumulation of trouble. - -I presume that a constitution in the susceptible state in which mine -at present is, would be especially liable to fall a victim to cholera, -if it visited our district. And since its appearance near London, we -may well besiege the Mercy-seat for our protection, said Mr. -Bulstrode, not intending to evade Lydgates allusion, but really -preoccupied with alarms about himself. - -You have at all events taken your share in using good practical -precautions for the town, and that is the best mode of asking for -protection, said Lydgate, with a strong distaste for the broken -metaphor and bad logic of the bankers religion, somewhat increased by -the apparent deafness of his sympathy. But his mind had taken up its -long-prepared movement towards getting help, and was not yet arrested. -He added, The town has done well in the way of cleansing, and finding -appliances; and I think that if the cholera should come, even our -enemies will admit that the arrangements in the Hospital are a public -good. - -Truly, said Mr. Bulstrode, with some coldness. With regard to what -you say, Mr. Lydgate, about the relaxation of my mental labor, I have -for some time been entertaining a purpose to that effecta purpose of a -very decided character. I contemplate at least a temporary withdrawal -from the management of much business, whether benevolent or commercial. -Also I think of changing my residence for a time: probably I shall -close or let The Shrubs, and take some place near the coastunder -advice of course as to salubrity. That would be a measure which you -would recommend? - -Oh yes, said Lydgate, falling backward in his chair, with -ill-repressed impatience under the bankers pale earnest eyes and -intense preoccupation with himself. - -I have for some time felt that I should open this subject with you in -relation to our Hospital, continued Bulstrode. Under the -circumstances I have indicated, of course I must cease to have any -personal share in the management, and it is contrary to my views of -responsibility to continue a large application of means to an -institution which I cannot watch over and to some extent regulate. I -shall therefore, in case of my ultimate decision to leave Middlemarch, -consider that I withdraw other support to the New Hospital than that -which will subsist in the fact that I chiefly supplied the expenses of -building it, and have contributed further large sums to its successful -working. - -Lydgates thought, when Bulstrode paused according to his wont, was, -He has perhaps been losing a good deal of money. This was the most -plausible explanation of a speech which had caused rather a startling -change in his expectations. He said in reply - -The loss to the Hospital can hardly be made up, I fear. - -Hardly, returned Bulstrode, in the same deliberate, silvery tone; -except by some changes of plan. The only person who may be certainly -counted on as willing to increase her contributions is Mrs. Casaubon. I -have had an interview with her on the subject, and I have pointed out -to her, as I am about to do to you, that it will be desirable to win a -more general support to the New Hospital by a change of system. -Another pause, but Lydgate did not speak. - -The change I mean is an amalgamation with the Infirmary, so that the -New Hospital shall be regarded as a special addition to the elder -institution, having the same directing board. It will be necessary, -also, that the medical management of the two shall be combined. In this -way any difficulty as to the adequate maintenance of our new -establishment will be removed; the benevolent interests of the town -will cease to be divided. - -Mr. Bulstrode had lowered his eyes from Lydgates face to the buttons -of his coat as he again paused. - -No doubt that is a good device as to ways and means, said Lydgate, -with an edge of irony in his tone. But I cant be expected to rejoice -in it at once, since one of the first results will be that the other -medical men will upset or interrupt my methods, if it were only because -they are mine. - -I myself, as you know, Mr. Lydgate, highly valued the opportunity of -new and independent procedure which you have diligently employed: the -original plan, I confess, was one which I had much at heart, under -submission to the Divine Will. But since providential indications -demand a renunciation from me, I renounce. - -Bulstrode showed a rather exasperating ability in this conversation. -The broken metaphor and bad logic of motive which had stirred his -hearers contempt were quite consistent with a mode of putting the -facts which made it difficult for Lydgate to vent his own indignation -and disappointment. After some rapid reflection, he only asked - -What did Mrs. Casaubon say? - -That was the further statement which I wished to make to you, said -Bulstrode, who had thoroughly prepared his ministerial explanation. -She is, you are aware, a woman of most munificent disposition, and -happily in possessionnot I presume of great wealth, but of funds which -she can well spare. She has informed me that though she has destined -the chief part of those funds to another purpose, she is willing to -consider whether she cannot fully take my place in relation to the -Hospital. But she wishes for ample time to mature her thoughts on the -subject, and I have told her that there is no need for hastethat, in -fact, my own plans are not yet absolute. - -Lydgate was ready to say, If Mrs. Casaubon would take your place, -there would be gain, instead of loss. But there was still a weight on -his mind which arrested this cheerful candor. He replied, I suppose, -then, that I may enter into the subject with Mrs. Casaubon. - -Precisely; that is what she expressly desires. Her decision, she says, -will much depend on what you can tell her. But not at present: she is, -I believe, just setting out on a journey. I have her letter here, said -Mr. Bulstrode, drawing it out, and reading from it. I am immediately -otherwise engaged, she says. I am going into Yorkshire with Sir James -and Lady Chettam; and the conclusions I come to about some land which I -am to see there may affect my power of contributing to the Hospital. -Thus, Mr. Lydgate, there is no haste necessary in this matter; but I -wished to apprise you beforehand of what may possibly occur. - -Mr. Bulstrode returned the letter to his side-pocket, and changed his -attitude as if his business were closed. Lydgate, whose renewed hope -about the Hospital only made him more conscious of the facts which -poisoned his hope, felt that his effort after help, if made at all, -must be made now and vigorously. - -I am much obliged to you for giving me full notice, he said, with a -firm intention in his tone, yet with an interruptedness in his delivery -which showed that he spoke unwillingly. The highest object to me is my -profession, and I had identified the Hospital with the best use I can -at present make of my profession. But the best use is not always the -same with monetary success. Everything which has made the Hospital -unpopular has helped with other causesI think they are all connected -with my professional zealto make me unpopular as a practitioner. I get -chiefly patients who cant pay me. I should like them best, if I had -nobody to pay on my own side. Lydgate waited a little, but Bulstrode -only bowed, looking at him fixedly, and he went on with the same -interrupted enunciationas if he were biting an objectional leek. - -I have slipped into money difficulties which I can see no way out of, -unless some one who trusts me and my future will advance me a sum -without other security. I had very little fortune left when I came -here. I have no prospects of money from my own family. My expenses, in -consequence of my marriage, have been very much greater than I had -expected. The result at this moment is that it would take a thousand -pounds to clear me. I mean, to free me from the risk of having all my -goods sold in security of my largest debtas well as to pay my other -debtsand leave anything to keep us a little beforehand with our small -income. I find that it is out of the question that my wifes father -should make such an advance. That is why I mention my position toto -the only other man who may be held to have some personal connection -with my prosperity or ruin. - -Lydgate hated to hear himself. But he had spoken now, and had spoken -with unmistakable directness. Mr. Bulstrode replied without haste, but -also without hesitation. - -I am grieved, though, I confess, not surprised by this information, -Mr. Lydgate. For my own part, I regretted your alliance with my -brother-in-laws family, which has always been of prodigal habits, and -which has already been much indebted to me for sustainment in its -present position. My advice to you, Mr. Lydgate, would be, that instead -of involving yourself in further obligations, and continuing a doubtful -struggle, you should simply become a bankrupt. - -That would not improve my prospect, said Lydgate, rising and speaking -bitterly, even if it were a more agreeable thing in itself. - -It is always a trial, said Mr. Bulstrode; but trial, my dear sir, is -our portion here, and is a needed corrective. I recommend you to weigh -the advice I have given. - -Thank you, said Lydgate, not quite knowing what he said. I have -occupied you too long. Good-day. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVIII. - -What suit of grace hath Virtue to put on -If Vice shall wear as good, and do as well? -If Wrong, if Craft, if Indiscretion -Act as fair parts with ends as laudable? -Which all this mighty volume of events -The world, the universal map of deeds, -Strongly controls, and proves from all descents, -That the directest course still best succeeds. -For should not grave and learnd Experience -That looks with the eyes of all the world beside, -And with all ages holds intelligence, -Go safer than Deceit without a guide! -DANIEL: _Musophilus_. - - -That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or -betrayed in his conversation with Lydgate, had been determined in him -by some severe experience which he had gone through since the epoch of -Mr. Larchers sale, when Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and when -the banker had in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move -Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. - -His certainty that Raffles, unless he were dead, would return to -Middlemarch before long, had been justified. On Christmas Eve he had -reappeared at The Shrubs. Bulstrode was at home to receive him, and -hinder his communication with the rest of the family, but he could not -altogether hinder the circumstances of the visit from compromising -himself and alarming his wife. Raffles proved more unmanageable than he -had shown himself to be in his former appearances, his chronic state of -mental restlessness, the growing effect of habitual intemperance, -quickly shaking off every impression from what was said to him. He -insisted on staying in the house, and Bulstrode, weighing two sets of -evils, felt that this was at least not a worse alternative than his -going into the town. He kept him in his own room for the evening and -saw him to bed, Raffles all the while amusing himself with the -annoyance he was causing this decent and highly prosperous -fellow-sinner, an amusement which he facetiously expressed as sympathy -with his friends pleasure in entertaining a man who had been -serviceable to him, and who had not had all his earnings. There was a -cunning calculation under this noisy jokinga cool resolve to extract -something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this -new application of torture. But his cunning had a little overcast its -mark. - -Bulstrode was indeed more tortured than the coarse fibre of Raffles -could enable him to imagine. He had told his wife that he was simply -taking care of this wretched creature, the victim of vice, who might -otherwise injure himself; he implied, without the direct form of -falsehood, that there was a family tie which bound him to this care, -and that there were signs of mental alienation in Raffles which urged -caution. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the next -morning. In these hints he felt that he was supplying Mrs. Bulstrode -with precautionary information for his daughters and servants, and -accounting for his allowing no one but himself to enter the room even -with food and drink. But he sat in an agony of fear lest Raffles should -be overheard in his loud and plain references to past factslest Mrs. -Bulstrode should be even tempted to listen at the door. How could he -hinder her, how betray his terror by opening the door to detect her? -She was a woman of honest direct habits, and little likely to take so -low a course in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but fear was -stronger than the calculation of probabilities. - -In this way Raffles had pushed the torture too far, and produced an -effect which had not been in his plan. By showing himself hopelessly -unmanageable he had made Bulstrode feel that a strong defiance was the -only resource left. After taking Raffles to bed that night the banker -ordered his closed carriage to be ready at half-past seven the next -morning. At six oclock he had already been long dressed, and had spent -some of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting -the worst evil if in anything he had used falsity and spoken what was -not true before God. For Bulstrode shrank from a direct lie with an -intensity disproportionate to the number of his more indirect misdeeds. -But many of these misdeeds were like the subtle muscular movements -which are not taken account of in the consciousness, though they bring -about the end that we fix our mind on and desire. And it is only what -we are vividly conscious of that we can vividly imagine to be seen by -Omniscience. - -Bulstrode carried his candle to the bedside of Raffles, who was -apparently in a painful dream. He stood silent, hoping that the -presence of the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and -gently, for he feared some noise as the consequence of a too sudden -awakening. He had watched for a couple of minutes or more the -shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to end in waking, when -Raffles, with a long half-stifled moan, started up and stared round him -in terror, trembling and gasping. But he made no further noise, and -Bulstrode, setting down the candle, awaited his recovery. - -It was a quarter of an hour later before Bulstrode, with a cold -peremptoriness of manner which he had not before shown, said, I came -to call you thus early, Mr. Raffles, because I have ordered the -carriage to be ready at half-past seven, and intend myself to conduct -you as far as Ilsely, where you can either take the railway or await a -coach. Raffles was about to speak, but Bulstrode anticipated him -imperiously with the words, Be silent, sir, and hear what I have to -say. I shall supply you with money now, and I will furnish you with a -reasonable sum from time to time, on your application to me by letter; -but if you choose to present yourself here again, if you return to -Middlemarch, if you use your tongue in a manner injurious to me, you -will have to live on such fruits as your malice can bring you, without -help from me. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name: I know the -worst you can do against me, and I shall brave it if you dare to thrust -yourself upon me again. Get up, sir, and do as I order you, without -noise, or I will send for a policeman to take you off my premises, and -you may carry your stories into every pothouse in the town, but you -shall have no sixpence from me to pay your expenses there. - -Bulstrode had rarely in his life spoken with such nervous energy: he -had been deliberating on this speech and its probable effects through a -large part of the night; and though he did not trust to its ultimately -saving him from any return of Raffles, he had concluded that it was the -best throw he could make. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the -jaded man this morning: his empoisoned system at this moment quailed -before Bulstrodes cold, resolute bearing, and he was taken off quietly -in the carriage before the family breakfast time. The servants imagined -him to be a poor relation, and were not surprised that a strict man -like their master, who held his head high in the world, should be -ashamed of such a cousin and want to get rid of him. The bankers drive -of ten miles with his hated companion was a dreary beginning of the -Christmas day; but at the end of the drive, Raffles had recovered his -spirits, and parted in a contentment for which there was the good -reason that the banker had given him a hundred pounds. Various motives -urged Bulstrode to this open-handedness, but he did not himself inquire -closely into all of them. As he had stood watching Raffles in his -uneasy sleep, it had certainly entered his mind that the man had been -much shattered since the first gift of two hundred pounds. - -He had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his resolve not -to be played on any more; and had tried to penetrate Raffles with the -fact that he had shown the risks of bribing him to be quite equal to -the risks of defying him. But when, freed from his repulsive presence, -Bulstrode returned to his quiet home, he brought with him no confidence -that he had secured more than a respite. It was as if he had had a -loathsome dream, and could not shake off its images with their hateful -kindred of sensationsas if on all the pleasant surroundings of his -life a dangerous reptile had left his slimy traces. - -Who can know how much of his most inward life is made up of the -thoughts he believes other men to have about him, until that fabric of -opinion is threatened with ruin? - -Bulstrode was only the more conscious that there was a deposit of -uneasy presentiment in his wifes mind, because she carefully avoided -any allusion to it. He had been used every day to taste the flavor of -supremacy and the tribute of complete deference: and the certainty that -he was watched or measured with a hidden suspicion of his having some -discreditable secret, made his voice totter when he was speaking to -edification. Foreseeing, to men of Bulstrodes anxious temperament, is -often worse than seeing; and his imagination continually heightened the -anguish of an imminent disgrace. Yes, imminent; for if his defiance of -Raffles did not keep the man awayand though he prayed for this result -he hardly hoped for itthe disgrace was certain. In vain he said to -himself that, if permitted, it would be a divine visitation, a -chastisement, a preparation; he recoiled from the imagined burning; and -he judged that it must be more for the Divine glory that he should -escape dishonor. That recoil had at last urged him to make preparations -for quitting Middlemarch. If evil truth must be reported of him, he -would then be at a less scorching distance from the contempt of his old -neighbors; and in a new scene, where his life would not have gathered -the same wide sensibility, the tormentor, if he pursued him, would be -less formidable. To leave the place finally would, he knew, be -extremely painful to his wife, and on other grounds he would have -preferred to stay where he had struck root. Hence he made his -preparations at first in a conditional way, wishing to leave on all -sides an opening for his return after brief absence, if any favorable -intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. He was preparing -to transfer his management of the Bank, and to give up any active -control of other commercial affairs in the neighborhood, on the ground -of his failing health, but without excluding his future resumption of -such work. The measure would cause him some added expense and some -diminution of income beyond what he had already undergone from the -general depression of trade; and the Hospital presented itself as a -principal object of outlay on which he could fairly economize. - -This was the experience which had determined his conversation with -Lydgate. But at this time his arrangements had most of them gone no -farther than a stage at which he could recall them if they proved to be -unnecessary. He continually deferred the final steps; in the midst of -his fears, like many a man who is in danger of shipwreck or of being -dashed from his carriage by runaway horses, he had a clinging -impression that something would happen to hinder the worst, and that to -spoil his life by a late transplantation might be over-hastyespecially -since it was difficult to account satisfactorily to his wife for the -project of their indefinite exile from the only place where she would -like to live. - -Among the affairs Bulstrode had to care for, was the management of the -farm at Stone Court in case of his absence; and on this as well as on -all other matters connected with any houses and land he possessed in or -about Middlemarch, he had consulted Caleb Garth. Like every one else -who had business of that sort, he wanted to get the agent who was more -anxious for his employers interests than his own. With regard to Stone -Court, since Bulstrode wished to retain his hold on the stock, and to -have an arrangement by which he himself could, if he chose, resume his -favorite recreation of superintendence, Caleb had advised him not to -trust to a mere bailiff, but to let the land, stock, and implements -yearly, and take a proportionate share of the proceeds. - -May I trust to you to find me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Garth? -said Bulstrode. And will you mention to me the yearly sum which would -repay you for managing these affairs which we have discussed together? - -Ill think about it, said Caleb, in his blunt way. Ill see how I -can make it out. - -If it had not been that he had to consider Fred Vincys future, Mr. -Garth would not probably have been glad of any addition to his work, of -which his wife was always fearing an excess for him as he grew older. -But on quitting Bulstrode after that conversation, a very alluring idea -occurred to him about this said letting of Stone Court. What if -Bulstrode would agree to his placing Fred Vincy there on the -understanding that he, Caleb Garth, should be responsible for the -management? It would be an excellent schooling for Fred; he might make -a modest income there, and still have time left to get knowledge by -helping in other business. He mentioned his notion to Mrs. Garth with -such evident delight that she could not bear to chill his pleasure by -expressing her constant fear of his undertaking too much. - -The lad would be as happy as two, he said, throwing himself back in -his chair, and looking radiant, if I could tell him it was all -settled. Think; Susan! His mind had been running on that place for -years before old Featherstone died. And it would be as pretty a turn of -things as could be that he should hold the place in a good industrious -way after allby his taking to business. For its likely enough -Bulstrode might let him go on, and gradually buy the stock. He hasnt -made up his mind, I can see, whether or not he shall settle somewhere -else as a lasting thing. I never was better pleased with a notion in my -life. And then the children might be married by-and-by, Susan. - -You will not give any hint of the plan to Fred, until you are sure -that Bulstrode would agree to the plan? said Mrs. Garth, in a tone of -gentle caution. And as to marriage, Caleb, we old people need not help -to hasten it. - -Oh, I dont know, said Caleb, swinging his head aside. Marriage is a -taming thing. Fred would want less of my bit and bridle. However, I -shall say nothing till I know the ground Im treading on. I shall speak -to Bulstrode again. - -He took his earliest opportunity of doing so. Bulstrode had anything -but a warm interest in his nephew Fred Vincy, but he had a strong wish -to secure Mr. Garths services on many scattered points of business at -which he was sure to be a considerable loser, if they were under less -conscientious management. On that ground he made no objection to Mr. -Garths proposal; and there was also another reason why he was not -sorry to give a consent which was to benefit one of the Vincy family. -It was that Mrs. Bulstrode, having heard of Lydgates debts, had been -anxious to know whether her husband could not do something for poor -Rosamond, and had been much troubled on learning from him that -Lydgates affairs were not easily remediable, and that the wisest plan -was to let them take their course. Mrs. Bulstrode had then said for -the first time, I think you are always a little hard towards my -family, Nicholas. And I am sure I have no reason to deny any of my -relatives. Too worldly they may be, but no one ever had to say that -they were not respectable. - -My dear Harriet, said Mr. Bulstrode, wincing under his wifes eyes, -which were filling with tears, I have supplied your brother with a -great deal of capital. I cannot be expected to take care of his married -children. - -That seemed to be true, and Mrs. Bulstrodes remonstrance subsided into -pity for poor Rosamond, whose extravagant education she had always -foreseen the fruits of. - -But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Bulstrode felt that when he had to -talk to his wife fully about his plan of quitting Middlemarch, he -should be glad to tell her that he had made an arrangement which might -be for the good of her nephew Fred. At present he had merely mentioned -to her that he thought of shutting up The Shrubs for a few months, and -taking a house on the Southern Coast. - -Hence Mr. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that in case of -Bulstrodes departure from Middlemarch for an indefinite time, Fred -Vincy should be allowed to have the tenancy of Stone Court on the terms -proposed. - -Caleb was so elated with his hope of this neat turn being given to -things, that if his self-control had not been braced by a little -affectionate wifely scolding, he would have betrayed everything to -Mary, wanting to give the child comfort. However, he restrained -himself, and kept in strict privacy from Fred certain visits which he -was making to Stone Court, in order to look more thoroughly into the -state of the land and stock, and take a preliminary estimate. He was -certainly more eager in these visits than the probable speed of events -required him to be; but he was stimulated by a fatherly delight in -occupying his mind with this bit of probable happiness which he held in -store like a hidden birthday gift for Fred and Mary. - -But suppose the whole scheme should turn out to be a castle in the -air? said Mrs. Garth. - -Well, well, replied Caleb; the castle will tumble about nobodys -head. - - - - -CHAPTER LXIX. - -If thou hast heard a word, let it die with thee. -_Ecclesiasticus_. - - -Mr. Bulstrode was still seated in his managers room at the Bank, about -three oclock of the same day on which he had received Lydgate there, -when the clerk entered to say that his horse was waiting, and also that -Mr. Garth was outside and begged to speak with him. - -By all means, said Bulstrode; and Caleb entered. Pray sit down, Mr. -Garth, continued the banker, in his suavest tone. - -I am glad that you arrived just in time to find me here. I know you -count your minutes. - -Oh, said Caleb, gently, with a slow swing of his head on one side, as -he seated himself and laid his hat on the floor. - -He looked at the ground, leaning forward and letting his long fingers -droop between his legs, while each finger moved in succession, as if it -were sharing some thought which filled his large quiet brow. - -Mr. Bulstrode, like every one else who knew Caleb, was used to his -slowness in beginning to speak on any topic which he felt to be -important, and rather expected that he was about to recur to the buying -of some houses in Blindmans Court, for the sake of pulling them down, -as a sacrifice of property which would be well repaid by the influx of -air and light on that spot. It was by propositions of this kind that -Caleb was sometimes troublesome to his employers; but he had usually -found Bulstrode ready to meet him in projects of improvement, and they -had got on well together. When he spoke again, however, it was to say, -in rather a subdued voice - -I have just come away from Stone Court, Mr. Bulstrode. - -You found nothing wrong there, I hope, said the banker; I was there -myself yesterday. Abel has done well with the lambs this year. - -Why, yes, said Caleb, looking up gravely, there is something wronga -stranger, who is very ill, I think. He wants a doctor, and I came to -tell you of that. His name is Raffles. - -He saw the shock of his words passing through Bulstrodes frame. On -this subject the banker had thought that his fears were too constantly -on the watch to be taken by surprise; but he had been mistaken. - -Poor wretch! he said in a compassionate tone, though his lips -trembled a little. Do you know how he came there? - -I took him myself, said Caleb, quietlytook him up in my gig. He had -got down from the coach, and was walking a little beyond the turning -from the toll-house, and I overtook him. He remembered seeing me with -you once before, at Stone Court, and he asked me to take him on. I saw -he was ill: it seemed to me the right thing to do, to carry him under -shelter. And now I think you should lose no time in getting advice for -him. Caleb took up his hat from the floor as he ended, and rose slowly -from his seat. - -Certainly, said Bulstrode, whose mind was very active at this moment. -Perhaps you will yourself oblige me, Mr. Garth, by calling at Mr. -Lydgates as you passor stay! he may at this hour probably be at the -Hospital. I will first send my man on the horse there with a note this -instant, and then I will myself ride to Stone Court. - -Bulstrode quickly wrote a note, and went out himself to give the -commission to his man. When he returned, Caleb was standing as before -with one hand on the back of the chair, holding his hat with the other. -In Bulstrodes mind the dominant thought was, Perhaps Raffles only -spoke to Garth of his illness. Garth may wonder, as he must have done -before, at this disreputable fellows claiming intimacy with me; but he -will know nothing. And he is friendly to meI can be of use to him. - -He longed for some confirmation of this hopeful conjecture, but to have -asked any question as to what Raffles had said or done would have been -to betray fear. - -I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Garth, he said, in his usual -tone of politeness. My servant will be back in a few minutes, and I -shall then go myself to see what can be done for this unfortunate man. -Perhaps you had some other business with me? If so, pray be seated. - -Thank you, said Caleb, making a slight gesture with his right hand to -waive the invitation. I wish to say, Mr. Bulstrode, that I must -request you to put your business into some other hands than mine. I am -obliged to you for your handsome way of meeting meabout the letting of -Stone Court, and all other business. But I must give it up. A sharp -certainty entered like a stab into Bulstrodes soul. - -This is sudden, Mr. Garth, was all he could say at first. - -It is, said Caleb; but it is quite fixed. I must give it up. - -He spoke with a firmness which was very gentle, and yet he could see -that Bulstrode seemed to cower under that gentleness, his face looking -dried and his eyes swerving away from the glance which rested on him. -Caleb felt a deep pity for him, but he could have used no pretexts to -account for his resolve, even if they would have been of any use. - -You have been led to this, I apprehend, by some slanders concerning me -uttered by that unhappy creature, said Bulstrode, anxious now to know -the utmost. - -That is true. I cant deny that I act upon what I heard from him. - -You are a conscientious man, Mr. Gartha man, I trust, who feels -himself accountable to God. You would not wish to injure me by being -too ready to believe a slander, said Bulstrode, casting about for -pleas that might be adapted to his hearers mind. That is a poor -reason for giving up a connection which I think I may say will be -mutually beneficial. - -I would injure no man if I could help it, said Caleb; even if I -thought God winked at it. I hope I should have a feeling for my -fellow-creature. But, sirI am obliged to believe that this Raffles has -told me the truth. And I cant be happy in working with you, or -profiting by you. It hurts my mind. I must beg you to seek another -agent. - -Very well, Mr. Garth. But I must at least claim to know the worst that -he has told you. I must know what is the foul speech that I am liable -to be the victim of, said Bulstrode, a certain amount of anger -beginning to mingle with his humiliation before this quiet man who -renounced his benefits. - -Thats needless, said Caleb, waving his hand, bowing his head -slightly, and not swerving from the tone which had in it the merciful -intention to spare this pitiable man. What he has said to me will -never pass from my lips, unless something now unknown forces it from -me. If you led a harmful life for gain, and kept others out of their -rights by deceit, to get the more for yourself, I dare say you -repentyou would like to go back, and cant: that must be a bitter -thingCaleb paused a moment and shook his headit is not for me to -make your life harder to you. - -But you doyou do make it harder to me, said Bulstrode constrained -into a genuine, pleading cry. You make it harder to me by turning your -back on me. - -That Im forced to do, said Caleb, still more gently, lifting up his -hand. I am sorry. I dont judge you and say, he is wicked, and I am -righteous. God forbid. I dont know everything. A man may do wrong, and -his will may rise clear out of it, though he cant get his life clear. -Thats a bad punishment. If it is so with you,well, Im very sorry for -you. But I have that feeling inside me, that I cant go on working with -you. Thats all, Mr. Bulstrode. Everything else is buried, so far as my -will goes. And I wish you good-day. - -One moment, Mr. Garth! said Bulstrode, hurriedly. I may trust then -to your solemn assurance that you will not repeat either to man or -woman whateven if it have any degree of truth in itis yet a malicious -representation? Calebs wrath was stirred, and he said, indignantly - -Why should I have said it if I didnt mean it? I am in no fear of you. -Such tales as that will never tempt my tongue. - -Excuse meI am agitatedI am the victim of this abandoned man. - -Stop a bit! you have got to consider whether you didnt help to make -him worse, when you profited by his vices. - -You are wronging me by too readily believing him, said Bulstrode, -oppressed, as by a nightmare, with the inability to deny flatly what -Raffles might have said; and yet feeling it an escape that Caleb had -not so stated it to him as to ask for that flat denial. - -No, said Caleb, lifting his hand deprecatingly; I am ready to -believe better, when better is proved. I rob you of no good chance. As -to speaking, I hold it a crime to expose a mans sin unless Im clear -it must be done to save the innocent. That is my way of thinking, Mr. -Bulstrode, and what I say, Ive no need to swear. I wish you good-day. - -Some hours later, when he was at home, Caleb said to his wife, -incidentally, that he had had some little differences with Bulstrode, -and that in consequence, he had given up all notion of taking Stone -Court, and indeed had resigned doing further business for him. - -He was disposed to interfere too much, was he? said Mrs. Garth, -imagining that her husband had been touched on his sensitive point, and -not been allowed to do what he thought right as to materials and modes -of work. - -Oh, said Caleb, bowing his head and waving his hand gravely. And Mrs. -Garth knew that this was a sign of his not intending to speak further -on the subject. - -As for Bulstrode, he had almost immediately mounted his horse and set -off for Stone Court, being anxious to arrive there before Lydgate. - -His mind was crowded with images and conjectures, which were a language -to his hopes and fears, just as we hear tones from the vibrations which -shake our whole system. The deep humiliation with which he had winced -under Caleb Garths knowledge of his past and rejection of his -patronage, alternated with and almost gave way to the sense of safety -in the fact that Garth, and no other, had been the man to whom Raffles -had spoken. It seemed to him a sort of earnest that Providence intended -his rescue from worse consequences; the way being thus left open for -the hope of secrecy. That Raffles should be afflicted with illness, -that he should have been led to Stone Court rather than -elsewhereBulstrodes heart fluttered at the vision of probabilities -which these events conjured up. If it should turn out that he was freed -from all danger of disgraceif he could breathe in perfect libertyhis -life should be more consecrated than it had ever been before. He -mentally lifted up this vow as if it would urge the result he longed -forhe tried to believe in the potency of that prayerful resolutionits -potency to determine death. He knew that he ought to say, Thy will be -done; and he said it often. But the intense desire remained that the -will of God might be the death of that hated man. - -Yet when he arrived at Stone Court he could not see the change in -Raffles without a shock. But for his pallor and feebleness, Bulstrode -would have called the change in him entirely mental. Instead of his -loud tormenting mood, he showed an intense, vague terror, and seemed to -deprecate Bulstrodes anger, because the money was all gonehe had been -robbedit had half of it been taken from him. He had only come here -because he was ill and somebody was hunting himsomebody was after him, -he had told nobody anything, he had kept his mouth shut. Bulstrode, not -knowing the significance of these symptoms, interpreted this new -nervous susceptibility into a means of alarming Raffles into true -confessions, and taxed him with falsehood in saying that he had not -told anything, since he had just told the man who took him up in his -gig and brought him to Stone Court. Raffles denied this with solemn -adjurations; the fact being that the links of consciousness were -interrupted in him, and that his minute terror-stricken narrative to -Caleb Garth had been delivered under a set of visionary impulses which -had dropped back into darkness. - -Bulstrodes heart sank again at this sign that he could get no grasp -over the wretched mans mind, and that no word of Raffles could be -trusted as to the fact which he most wanted to know, namely, whether or -not he had really kept silence to every one in the neighborhood except -Caleb Garth. The housekeeper had told him without the least constraint -of manner that since Mr. Garth left, Raffles had asked her for beer, -and after that had not spoken, seeming very ill. On that side it might -be concluded that there had been no betrayal. Mrs. Abel thought, like -the servants at The Shrubs, that the strange man belonged to the -unpleasant kin who are among the troubles of the rich; she had at -first referred the kinship to Mr. Rigg, and where there was property -left, the buzzing presence of such large blue-bottles seemed natural -enough. How he could be kin to Bulstrode as well was not so clear, -but Mrs. Abel agreed with her husband that there was no knowing, a -proposition which had a great deal of mental food for her, so that she -shook her head over it without further speculation. - -In less than an hour Lydgate arrived. Bulstrode met him outside the -wainscoted parlor, where Raffles was, and said - -I have called you in, Mr. Lydgate, to an unfortunate man who was once -in my employment, many years ago. Afterwards he went to America, and -returned I fear to an idle dissolute life. Being destitute, he has a -claim on me. He was slightly connected with Rigg, the former owner of -this place, and in consequence found his way here. I believe he is -seriously ill: apparently his mind is affected. I feel bound to do the -utmost for him. - -Lydgate, who had the remembrance of his last conversation with -Bulstrode strongly upon him, was not disposed to say an unnecessary -word to him, and bowed slightly in answer to this account; but just -before entering the room he turned automatically and said, What is his -name?to know names being as much a part of the medical mans -accomplishment as of the practical politicians. - -Raffles, John Raffles, said Bulstrode, who hoped that whatever became -of Raffles, Lydgate would never know any more of him. - -When he had thoroughly examined and considered the patient, Lydgate -ordered that he should go to bed, and be kept there in as complete -quiet as possible, and then went with Bulstrode into another room. - -It is a serious case, I apprehend, said the banker, before Lydgate -began to speak. - -Noand yes, said Lydgate, half dubiously. It is difficult to decide -as to the possible effect of long-standing complications; but the man -had a robust constitution to begin with. I should not expect this -attack to be fatal, though of course the system is in a ticklish state. -He should be well watched and attended to. - -I will remain here myself, said Bulstrode. Mrs. Abel and her husband -are inexperienced. I can easily remain here for the night, if you will -oblige me by taking a note for Mrs. Bulstrode. - -I should think that is hardly necessary, said Lydgate. He seems tame -and terrified enough. He might become more unmanageable. But there is a -man hereis there not? - -I have more than once stayed here a few nights for the sake of -seclusion, said Bulstrode, indifferently; I am quite disposed to do -so now. Mrs. Abel and her husband can relieve or aid me, if necessary. - -Very well. Then I need give my directions only to you, said Lydgate, -not feeling surprised at a little peculiarity in Bulstrode. - -You think, then, that the case is hopeful? said Bulstrode, when -Lydgate had ended giving his orders. - -Unless there turn out to be further complications, such as I have not -at present detectedyes, said Lydgate. He may pass on to a worse -stage; but I should not wonder if he got better in a few days, by -adhering to the treatment I have prescribed. There must be firmness. -Remember, if he calls for liquors of any sort, not to give them to him. -In my opinion, men in his condition are oftener killed by treatment -than by the disease. Still, new symptoms may arise. I shall come again -to-morrow morning. - -After waiting for the note to be carried to Mrs. Bulstrode, Lydgate -rode away, forming no conjectures, in the first instance, about the -history of Raffles, but rehearsing the whole argument, which had lately -been much stirred by the publication of Dr. Wares abundant experience -in America, as to the right way of treating cases of alcoholic -poisoning such as this. Lydgate, when abroad, had already been -interested in this question: he was strongly convinced against the -prevalent practice of allowing alcohol and persistently administering -large doses of opium; and he had repeatedly acted on this conviction -with a favorable result. - -The man is in a diseased state, he thought, but theres a good deal -of wear in him still. I suppose he is an object of charity to -Bulstrode. It is curious what patches of hardness and tenderness lie -side by side in mens dispositions. Bulstrode seems the most -unsympathetic fellow I ever saw about some people, and yet he has taken -no end of trouble, and spent a great deal of money, on benevolent -objects. I suppose he has some test by which he finds out whom Heaven -cares forhe has made up his mind that it doesnt care for me. - -This streak of bitterness came from a plenteous source, and kept -widening in the current of his thought as he neared Lowick Gate. He had -not been there since his first interview with Bulstrode in the morning, -having been found at the Hospital by the bankers messenger; and for -the first time he was returning to his home without the vision of any -expedient in the background which left him a hope of raising money -enough to deliver him from the coming destitution of everything which -made his married life tolerableeverything which saved him and Rosamond -from that bare isolation in which they would be forced to recognize how -little of a comfort they could be to each other. It was more bearable -to do without tenderness for himself than to see that his own -tenderness could make no amends for the lack of other things to her. -The sufferings of his own pride from humiliations past and to come were -keen enough, yet they were hardly distinguishable to himself from that -more acute pain which dominated themthe pain of foreseeing that -Rosamond would come to regard him chiefly as the cause of -disappointment and unhappiness to her. He had never liked the -makeshifts of poverty, and they had never before entered into his -prospects for himself; but he was beginning now to imagine how two -creatures who loved each other, and had a stock of thoughts in common, -might laugh over their shabby furniture, and their calculations how far -they could afford butter and eggs. But the glimpse of that poetry -seemed as far off from him as the carelessness of the golden age; in -poor Rosamonds mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look -small in. He got down from his horse in a very sad mood, and went into -the house, not expecting to be cheered except by his dinner, and -reflecting that before the evening closed it would be wise to tell -Rosamond of his application to Bulstrode and its failure. It would be -well not to lose time in preparing her for the worst. - -But his dinner waited long for him before he was able to eat it. For on -entering he found that Dovers agent had already put a man in the -house, and when he asked where Mrs. Lydgate was, he was told that she -was in her bedroom. He went up and found her stretched on the bed pale -and silent, without an answer even in her face to any word or look of -his. He sat down by the bed and leaning over her said with almost a cry -of prayer - -Forgive me for this misery, my poor Rosamond! Let us only love one -another. - -She looked at him silently, still with the blank despair on her face; -but then the tears began to fill her blue eyes, and her lip trembled. -The strong man had had too much to bear that day. He let his head fall -beside hers and sobbed. - -He did not hinder her from going to her father early in the morningit -seemed now that he ought not to hinder her from doing as she pleased. -In half an hour she came back, and said that papa and mamma wished her -to go and stay with them while things were in this miserable state. -Papa said he could do nothing about the debtif he paid this, there -would be half-a-dozen more. She had better come back home again till -Lydgate had got a comfortable home for her. Do you object, Tertius? - -Do as you like, said Lydgate. But things are not coming to a crisis -immediately. There is no hurry. - -I should not go till to-morrow, said Rosamond; I shall want to pack -my clothes. - -Oh, I would wait a little longer than to-morrowthere is no knowing -what may happen, said Lydgate, with bitter irony. I may get my neck -broken, and that may make things easier to you. - -It was Lydgates misfortune and Rosamonds too, that his tenderness -towards her, which was both an emotional prompting and a -well-considered resolve, was inevitably interrupted by these outbursts -of indignation either ironical or remonstrant. She thought them totally -unwarranted, and the repulsion which this exceptional severity excited -in her was in danger of making the more persistent tenderness -unacceptable. - -I see you do not wish me to go, she said, with chill mildness; why -can you not say so, without that kind of violence? I shall stay until -you request me to do otherwise. - -Lydgate said no more, but went out on his rounds. He felt bruised and -shattered, and there was a dark line under his eyes which Rosamond had -not seen before. She could not bear to look at him. Tertius had a way -of taking things which made them a great deal worse for her. - - - - -CHAPTER LXX. - -Our deeds still travel with us from afar, -And what we have been makes us what we are. - - -Bulstrodes first object after Lydgate had left Stone Court was to -examine Raffless pockets, which he imagined were sure to carry signs -in the shape of hotel-bills of the places he had stopped in, if he had -not told the truth in saying that he had come straight from Liverpool -because he was ill and had no money. There were various bills crammed -into his pocketbook, but none of a later date than Christmas at any -other place, except one, which bore date that morning. This was -crumpled up with a hand-bill about a horse-fair in one of his -tail-pockets, and represented the cost of three days stay at an inn at -Bilkley, where the fair was helda town at least forty miles from -Middlemarch. The bill was heavy, and since Raffles had no luggage with -him, it seemed probable that he had left his portmanteau behind in -payment, in order to save money for his travelling fare; for his purse -was empty, and he had only a couple of sixpences and some loose pence -in his pockets. - -Bulstrode gathered a sense of safety from these indications that -Raffles had really kept at a distance from Middlemarch since his -memorable visit at Christmas. At a distance and among people who were -strangers to Bulstrode, what satisfaction could there be to Raffless -tormenting, self-magnifying vein in telling old scandalous stories -about a Middlemarch banker? And what harm if he did talk? The chief -point now was to keep watch over him as long as there was any danger of -that intelligible raving, that unaccountable impulse to tell, which -seemed to have acted towards Caleb Garth; and Bulstrode felt much -anxiety lest some such impulse should come over him at the sight of -Lydgate. He sat up alone with him through the night, only ordering the -housekeeper to lie down in her clothes, so as to be ready when he -called her, alleging his own indisposition to sleep, and his anxiety to -carry out the doctors orders. He did carry them out faithfully, -although Raffles was incessantly asking for brandy, and declaring that -he was sinking awaythat the earth was sinking away from under him. He -was restless and sleepless, but still quailing and manageable. On the -offer of the food ordered by Lydgate, which he refused, and the denial -of other things which he demanded, he seemed to concentrate all his -terror on Bulstrode, imploringly deprecating his anger, his revenge on -him by starvation, and declaring with strong oaths that he had never -told any mortal a word against him. Even this Bulstrode felt that he -would not have liked Lydgate to hear; but a more alarming sign of -fitful alternation in his delirium was, that in-the morning twilight -Raffles suddenly seemed to imagine a doctor present, addressing him and -declaring that Bulstrode wanted to starve him to death out of revenge -for telling, when he never had told. - -Bulstrodes native imperiousness and strength of determination served -him well. This delicate-looking man, himself nervously perturbed, found -the needed stimulus in his strenuous circumstances, and through that -difficult night and morning, while he had the air of an animated corpse -returned to movement without warmth, holding the mastery by its chill -impassibility, his mind was intensely at work thinking of what he had -to guard against and what would win him security. Whatever prayers he -might lift up, whatever statements he might inwardly make of this mans -wretched spiritual condition, and the duty he himself was under to -submit to the punishment divinely appointed for him rather than to wish -for evil to anotherthrough all this effort to condense words into a -solid mental state, there pierced and spread with irresistible -vividness the images of the events he desired. And in the train of -those images came their apology. He could not but see the death of -Raffles, and see in it his own deliverance. What was the removal of -this wretched creature? He was impenitentbut were not public criminals -impenitent?yet the law decided on their fate. Should Providence in -this case award death, there was no sin in contemplating death as the -desirable issueif he kept his hands from hastening itif he -scrupulously did what was prescribed. Even here there might be a -mistake: human prescriptions were fallible things: Lydgate had said -that treatment had hastened death,why not his own method of treatment? -But of course intention was everything in the question of right and -wrong. - -And Bulstrode set himself to keep his intention separate from his -desire. He inwardly declared that he intended to obey orders. Why -should he have got into any argument about the validity of these -orders? It was only the common trick of desirewhich avails itself of -any irrelevant scepticism, finding larger room for itself in all -uncertainty about effects, in every obscurity that looks like the -absence of law. Still, he did obey the orders. - -His anxieties continually glanced towards Lydgate, and his remembrance -of what had taken place between them the morning before was accompanied -with sensibilities which had not been roused at all during the actual -scene. He had then cared but little about Lydgates painful impressions -with regard to the suggested change in the Hospital, or about the -disposition towards himself which what he held to be his justifiable -refusal of a rather exorbitant request might call forth. He recurred to -the scene now with a perception that he had probably made Lydgate his -enemy, and with an awakened desire to propitiate him, or rather to -create in him a strong sense of personal obligation. He regretted that -he had not at once made even an unreasonable money-sacrifice. For in -case of unpleasant suspicions, or even knowledge gathered from the -raving of Raffles, Bulstrode would have felt that he had a defence in -Lydgates mind by having conferred a momentous benefit on him. But the -regret had perhaps come too late. - -Strange, piteous conflict in the soul of this unhappy man, who had -longed for years to be better than he waswho had taken his selfish -passions into discipline and clad them in severe robes, so that he had -walked with them as a devout choir, till now that a terror had risen -among them, and they could chant no longer, but threw out their common -cries for safety. - -It was nearly the middle of the day before Lydgate arrived: he had -meant to come earlier, but had been detained, he said; and his -shattered looks were noticed by Balstrode. But he immediately threw -himself into the consideration of the patient, and inquired strictly -into all that had occurred. Raffles was worse, would take hardly any -food, was persistently wakeful and restlessly raving; but still not -violent. Contrary to Bulstrodes alarmed expectation, he took little -notice of Lydgates presence, and continued to talk or murmur -incoherently. - -What do you think of him? said Bulstrode, in private. - -The symptoms are worse. - -You are less hopeful? - -No; I still think he may come round. Are you going to stay here -yourself? said Lydgate, looking at Bulstrode with an abrupt question, -which made him uneasy, though in reality it was not due to any -suspicious conjecture. - -Yes, I think so, said Bulstrode, governing himself and speaking with -deliberation. Mrs. Bulstrode is advised of the reasons which detain -me. Mrs. Abel and her husband are not experienced enough to be left -quite alone, and this kind of responsibility is scarcely included in -their service of me. You have some fresh instructions, I presume. - -The chief new instruction that Lydgate had to give was on the -administration of extremely moderate doses of opium, in case of the -sleeplessness continuing after several hours. He had taken the -precaution of bringing opium in his pocket, and he gave minute -directions to Bulstrode as to the doses, and the point at which they -should cease. He insisted on the risk of not ceasing; and repeated his -order that no alcohol should be given. - -From what I see of the case, he ended, narcotism is the only thing I -should be much afraid of. He may wear through even without much food. -Theres a good deal of strength in him. - -You look ill yourself, Mr. Lydgatea most unusual, I may say -unprecedented thing in my knowledge of you, said Bulstrode, showing a -solicitude as unlike his indifference the day before, as his present -recklessness about his own fatigue was unlike his habitual -self-cherishing anxiety. I fear you are harassed. - -Yes, I am, said Lydgate, brusquely, holding his hat, and ready to go. - -Something new, I fear, said Bulstrode, inquiringly. Pray be seated. - -No, thank you, said Lydgate, with some hauteur. I mentioned to you -yesterday what was the state of my affairs. There is nothing to add, -except that the execution has since then been actually put into my -house. One can tell a good deal of trouble in a short sentence. I will -say good morning. - -Stay, Mr. Lydgate, stay, said Bulstrode; I have been reconsidering -this subject. I was yesterday taken by surprise, and saw it -superficially. Mrs. Bulstrode is anxious for her niece, and I myself -should grieve at a calamitous change in your position. Claims on me are -numerous, but on reconsideration, I esteem it right that I should incur -a small sacrifice rather than leave you unaided. You said, I think, -that a thousand pounds would suffice entirely to free you from your -burthens, and enable you to recover a firm stand? - -Yes, said Lydgate, a great leap of joy within him surmounting every -other feeling; that would pay all my debts, and leave me a little on -hand. I could set about economizing in our way of living. And by-and-by -my practice might look up. - -If you will wait a moment, Mr. Lydgate, I will draw a check to that -amount. I am aware that help, to be effectual in these cases, should be -thorough. - -While Bulstrode wrote, Lydgate turned to the window thinking of his -homethinking of his life with its good start saved from frustration, -its good purposes still unbroken. - -You can give me a note of hand for this, Mr. Lydgate, said the -banker, advancing towards him with the check. And by-and-by, I hope, -you may be in circumstances gradually to repay me. Meanwhile, I have -pleasure in thinking that you will be released from further -difficulty. - -I am deeply obliged to you, said Lydgate. You have restored to me -the prospect of working with some happiness and some chance of good. - -It appeared to him a very natural movement in Bulstrode that he should -have reconsidered his refusal: it corresponded with the more munificent -side of his character. But as he put his hack into a canter, that he -might get the sooner home, and tell the good news to Rosamond, and get -cash at the bank to pay over to Dovers agent, there crossed his mind, -with an unpleasant impression, as from a dark-winged flight of evil -augury across his vision, the thought of that contrast in himself which -a few months had broughtthat he should be overjoyed at being under a -strong personal obligationthat he should be overjoyed at getting money -for himself from Bulstrode. - -The banker felt that he had done something to nullify one cause of -uneasiness, and yet he was scarcely the easier. He did not measure the -quantity of diseased motive which had made him wish for Lydgates -good-will, but the quantity was none the less actively there, like an -irritating agent in his blood. A man vows, and yet will not cast away -the means of breaking his vow. Is it that he distinctly means to break -it? Not at all; but the desires which tend to break it are at work in -him dimly, and make their way into his imagination, and relax his -muscles in the very moments when he is telling himself over again the -reasons for his vow. Raffles, recovering quickly, returning to the free -use of his odious powershow could Bulstrode wish for that? Raffles -dead was the image that brought release, and indirectly he prayed for -that way of release, beseeching that, if it were possible, the rest of -his days here below might be freed from the threat of an ignominy which -would break him utterly as an instrument of Gods service. Lydgates -opinion was not on the side of promise that this prayer would be -fulfilled; and as the day advanced, Bulstrode felt himself getting -irritated at the persistent life in this man, whom he would fain have -seen sinking into the silence of death: imperious will stirred -murderous impulses towards this brute life, over which will, by itself, -had no power. He said inwardly that he was getting too much worn; he -would not sit up with the patient to-night, but leave him to Mrs. Abel, -who, if necessary, could call her husband. - -At six oclock, Raffles, having had only fitful perturbed snatches of -sleep, from which he waked with fresh restlessness and perpetual cries -that he was sinking away, Bulstrode began to administer the opium -according to Lydgates directions. At the end of half an hour or more -he called Mrs. Abel and told her that he found himself unfit for -further watching. He must now consign the patient to her care; and he -proceeded to repeat to her Lydgates directions as to the quantity of -each dose. Mrs. Abel had not before known anything of Lydgates -prescriptions; she had simply prepared and brought whatever Bulstrode -ordered, and had done what he pointed out to her. She began now to ask -what else she should do besides administering the opium. - -Nothing at present, except the offer of the soup or the soda-water: -you can come to me for further directions. Unless there is any -important change, I shall not come into the room again to-night. You -will ask your husband for help if necessary. I must go to bed early. - -Youve much need, sir, Im sure, said Mrs. Abel, and to take -something more strengthening than what youve done. - -Bulstrode went away now without anxiety as to what Raffles might say in -his raving, which had taken on a muttering incoherence not likely to -create any dangerous belief. At any rate he must risk this. He went -down into the wainscoted parlor first, and began to consider whether he -would not have his horse saddled and go home by the moonlight, and give -up caring for earthly consequences. Then, he wished that he had begged -Lydgate to come again that evening. Perhaps he might deliver a -different opinion, and think that Raffles was getting into a less -hopeful state. Should he send for Lydgate? If Raffles were really -getting worse, and slowly dying, Bulstrode felt that he could go to bed -and sleep in gratitude to Providence. But was he worse? Lydgate might -come and simply say that he was going on as he expected, and predict -that he would by-and-by fall into a good sleep, and get well. What was -the use of sending for him? Bulstrode shrank from that result. No ideas -or opinions could hinder him from seeing the one probability to be, -that Raffles recovered would be just the same man as before, with his -strength as a tormentor renewed, obliging him to drag away his wife to -spend her years apart from her friends and native place, carrying an -alienating suspicion against him in her heart. - -He had sat an hour and a half in this conflict by the firelight only, -when a sudden thought made him rise and light the bed-candle, which he -had brought down with him. The thought was, that he had not told Mrs. -Abel when the doses of opium must cease. - -He took hold of the candlestick, but stood motionless for a long while. -She might already have given him more than Lydgate had prescribed. But -it was excusable in him, that he should forget part of an order, in his -present wearied condition. He walked up-stairs, candle in hand, not -knowing whether he should straightway enter his own room and go to bed, -or turn to the patients room and rectify his omission. He paused in -the passage, with his face turned towards Raffless room, and he could -hear him moaning and murmuring. He was not asleep, then. Who could know -that Lydgates prescription would not be better disobeyed than -followed, since there was still no sleep? - -He turned into his own room. Before he had quite undressed, Mrs. Abel -rapped at the door; he opened it an inch, so that he could hear her -speak low. - -If you please, sir, should I have no brandy nor nothing to give the -poor creetur? He feels sinking away, and nothing else will he -swallerand but little strength in it, if he didonly the opium. And he -says more and more hes sinking down through the earth. - -To her surprise, Mr. Bulstrode did not answer. A struggle was going on -within him. - -I think he must die for want o support, if he goes on in that way. -When I nursed my poor master, Mr. Robisson, I had to give him port-wine -and brandy constant, and a big glass at a time, added Mrs. Abel, with -a touch of remonstrance in her tone. - -But again Mr. Bulstrode did not answer immediately, and she continued, -Its not a time to spare when people are at deaths door, nor would -you wish it, sir, Im sure. Else I should give him our own bottle o -rum as we keep by us. But a sitter-up so as youve been, and doing -everything as laid in your power - -Here a key was thrust through the inch of doorway, and Mr. Bulstrode -said huskily, That is the key of the wine-cooler. You will find plenty -of brandy there. - -Early in the morningabout sixMr. Bulstrode rose and spent some time -in prayer. Does any one suppose that private prayer is necessarily -candidnecessarily goes to the roots of action? Private prayer is -inaudible speech, and speech is representative: who can represent -himself just as he is, even in his own reflections? Bulstrode had not -yet unravelled in his thought the confused promptings of the last -four-and-twenty hours. - -He listened in the passage, and could hear hard stertorous breathing. -Then he walked out in the garden, and looked at the early rime on the -grass and fresh spring leaves. When he re-entered the house, he felt -startled at the sight of Mrs. Abel. - -How is your patientasleep, I think? he said, with an attempt at -cheerfulness in his tone. - -Hes gone very deep, sir, said Mrs. Abel. He went off gradual -between three and four oclock. Would you please to go and look at him? -I thought it no harm to leave him. My mans gone afield, and the little -girls seeing to the kettles. - -Bulstrode went up. At a glance he knew that Raffles was not in the -sleep which brings revival, but in the sleep which streams deeper and -deeper into the gulf of death. - -He looked round the room and saw a bottle with some brandy in it, and -the almost empty opium phial. He put the phial out of sight, and -carried the brandy-bottle down-stairs with him, locking it again in the -wine-cooler. - -While breakfasting he considered whether he should ride to Middlemarch -at once, or wait for Lydgates arrival. He decided to wait, and told -Mrs. Abel that she might go about her workhe could watch in the -bed-chamber. - -As he sat there and beheld the enemy of his peace going irrevocably -into silence, he felt more at rest than he had done for many months. -His conscience was soothed by the enfolding wing of secrecy, which -seemed just then like an angel sent down for his relief. He drew out -his pocket-book to review various memoranda there as to the -arrangements he had projected and partly carried out in the prospect of -quitting Middlemarch, and considered how far he would let them stand or -recall them, now that his absence would be brief. Some economies which -he felt desirable might still find a suitable occasion in his temporary -withdrawal from management, and he hoped still that Mrs. Casaubon would -take a large share in the expenses of the Hospital. In that way the -moments passed, until a change in the stertorous breathing was marked -enough to draw his attention wholly to the bed, and forced him to think -of the departing life, which had once been subservient to his ownwhich -he had once been glad to find base enough for him to act on as he -would. It was his gladness then which impelled him now to be glad that -the life was at an end. - -And who could say that the death of Raffles had been hastened? Who knew -what would have saved him? - -Lydgate arrived at half-past ten, in time to witness the final pause of -the breath. When he entered the room Bulstrode observed a sudden -expression in his face, which was not so much surprise as a recognition -that he had not judged correctly. He stood by the bed in silence for -some time, with his eyes turned on the dying man, but with that subdued -activity of expression which showed that he was carrying on an inward -debate. - -When did this change begin? said he, looking at Bulstrode. - -I did not watch by him last night, said Bulstrode. I was over-worn, -and left him under Mrs. Abels care. She said that he sank into sleep -between three and four oclock. When I came in before eight he was -nearly in this condition. - -Lydgate did not ask another question, but watched in silence until he -said, Its all over. - -This morning Lydgate was in a state of recovered hope and freedom. He -had set out on his work with all his old animation, and felt himself -strong enough to bear all the deficiencies of his married life. And he -was conscious that Bulstrode had been a benefactor to him. But he was -uneasy about this case. He had not expected it to terminate as it had -done. Yet he hardly knew how to put a question on the subject to -Bulstrode without appearing to insult him; and if he examined the -housekeeperwhy, the man was dead. There seemed to be no use in -implying that somebodys ignorance or imprudence had killed him. And -after all, he himself might be wrong. - -He and Bulstrode rode back to Middlemarch together, talking of many -thingschiefly cholera and the chances of the Reform Bill in the House -of Lords, and the firm resolve of the political Unions. Nothing was -said about Raffles, except that Bulstrode mentioned the necessity of -having a grave for him in Lowick churchyard, and observed that, so far -as he knew, the poor man had no connections, except Rigg, whom he had -stated to be unfriendly towards him. - -On returning home Lydgate had a visit from Mr. Farebrother. The Vicar -had not been in the town the day before, but the news that there was an -execution in Lydgates house had got to Lowick by the evening, having -been carried by Mr. Spicer, shoemaker and parish-clerk, who had it from -his brother, the respectable bell-hanger in Lowick Gate. Since that -evening when Lydgate had come down from the billiard room with Fred -Vincy, Mr. Farebrothers thoughts about him had been rather gloomy. -Playing at the Green Dragon once or oftener might have been a trifle in -another man; but in Lydgate it was one of several signs that he was -getting unlike his former self. He was beginning to do things for which -he had formerly even an excessive scorn. Whatever certain -dissatisfactions in marriage, which some silly tinklings of gossip had -given him hints of, might have to do with this change, Mr. Farebrother -felt sure that it was chiefly connected with the debts which were being -more and more distinctly reported, and he began to fear that any notion -of Lydgates having resources or friends in the background must be -quite illusory. The rebuff he had met with in his first attempt to win -Lydgates confidence, disinclined him to a second; but this news of the -execution being actually in the house, determined the Vicar to overcome -his reluctance. - -Lydgate had just dismissed a poor patient, in whom he was much -interested, and he came forward to put out his handwith an open -cheerfulness which surprised Mr. Farebrother. Could this too be a proud -rejection of sympathy and help? Never mind; the sympathy and help -should be offered. - -How are you, Lydgate? I came to see you because I had heard something -which made me anxious about you, said the Vicar, in the tone of a good -brother, only that there was no reproach in it. They were both seated -by this time, and Lydgate answered immediately - -I think I know what you mean. You had heard that there was an -execution in the house? - -Yes; is it true? - -It was true, said Lydgate, with an air of freedom, as if he did not -mind talking about the affair now. But the danger is over; the debt is -paid. I am out of my difficulties now: I shall be freed from debts, and -able, I hope, to start afresh on a better plan. - -I am very thankful to hear it, said the Vicar, falling back in his -chair, and speaking with that low-toned quickness which often follows -the removal of a load. I like that better than all the news in the -Times. I confess I came to you with a heavy heart. - -Thank you for coming, said Lydgate, cordially. I can enjoy the -kindness all the more because I am happier. I have certainly been a -good deal crushed. Im afraid I shall find the bruises still painful -by-and by, he added, smiling rather sadly; but just now I can only -feel that the torture-screw is off. - -Mr. Farebrother was silent for a moment, and then said earnestly, My -dear fellow, let me ask you one question. Forgive me if I take a -liberty. - -I dont believe you will ask anything that ought to offend me. - -Thenthis is necessary to set my heart quite at restyou have nothave -you?in order to pay your debts, incurred another debt which may harass -you worse hereafter? - -No, said Lydgate, coloring slightly. There is no reason why I should -not tell yousince the fact is sothat the person to whom I am indebted -is Bulstrode. He has made me a very handsome advancea thousand -poundsand he can afford to wait for repayment. - -Well, that is generous, said Mr. Farebrother, compelling himself to -approve of the man whom he disliked. His delicate feeling shrank from -dwelling even in his thought on the fact that he had always urged -Lydgate to avoid any personal entanglement with Bulstrode. He added -immediately, And Bulstrode must naturally feel an interest in your -welfare, after you have worked with him in a way which has probably -reduced your income instead of adding to it. I am glad to think that he -has acted accordingly. - -Lydgate felt uncomfortable under these kindly suppositions. They made -more distinct within him the uneasy consciousness which had shown its -first dim stirrings only a few hours before, that Bulstrodes motives -for his sudden beneficence following close upon the chillest -indifference might be merely selfish. He let the kindly suppositions -pass. He could not tell the history of the loan, but it was more -vividly present with him than ever, as well as the fact which the Vicar -delicately ignoredthat this relation of personal indebtedness to -Bulstrode was what he had once been most resolved to avoid. - -He began, instead of answering, to speak of his projected economies, -and of his having come to look at his life from a different point of -view. - -I shall set up a surgery, he said. I really think I made a mistaken -effort in that respect. And if Rosamond will not mind, I shall take an -apprentice. I dont like these things, but if one carries them out -faithfully they are not really lowering. I have had a severe galling to -begin with: that will make the small rubs seem easy. - -Poor Lydgate! the if Rosamond will not mind, which had fallen from -him involuntarily as part of his thought, was a significant mark of the -yoke he bore. But Mr. Farebrother, whose hopes entered strongly into -the same current with Lydgates, and who knew nothing about him that -could now raise a melancholy presentiment, left him with affectionate -congratulation. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXI. - -_Clown_. . . . Twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, -you have a delight to sit, have you not? -_Froth_. I have so: because it is an open room, and good for winter. -_Clo_. Why, very well then: I hope here be truths. -_Measure for Measure_. - - -Five days after the death of Raffles, Mr. Bambridge was standing at his -leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green -Dragon. He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he had only just -come out of the house, and any human figure standing at ease under the -archway in the early afternoon was as certain to attract companionship -as a pigeon which has found something worth pecking at. In this case -there was no material object to feed upon, but the eye of reason saw a -probability of mental sustenance in the shape of gossip. Mr. Hopkins, -the meek-mannered draper opposite, was the first to act on this inward -vision, being the more ambitious of a little masculine talk because his -customers were chiefly women. Mr. Bambridge was rather curt to the -draper, feeling that Hopkins was of course glad to talk to _him_, but -that he was not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins. Soon, -however, there was a small cluster of more important listeners, who -were either deposited from the passers-by, or had sauntered to the spot -expressly to see if there were anything going on at the Green Dragon; -and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive -things about the fine studs he had been seeing and the purchases he had -made on a journey in the north from which he had just returned. -Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him anything -to cut out a blood mare, a bay, rising four, which was to be seen at -Doncaster if they chose to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge would -gratify them by being shot from here to Hereford. Also, a pair of -blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly to his -mind a pair which he had sold to Faulkner in 19, for a hundred -guineas, and which Faulkner had sold for a hundred and sixty two months -laterany gent who could disprove this statement being offered the -privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the -exercise made his throat dry. - -When the discourse was at this point of animation, came up Mr. Frank -Hawley. He was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the -Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing -Bambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to -ask the horsedealer whether he had found the first-rate gig-horse which -he had engaged to look for. Mr. Hawley was requested to wait until he -had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to -a hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to -be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. Mr. Hawley, standing with his -back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the gray and -seeing it tried, when a horseman passed slowly by. - -Bulstrode! said two or three voices at once in a low tone, one of -them, which was the drapers, respectfully prefixing the Mr.; but -nobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they -had said the Riverston coach when that vehicle appeared in the -distance. Mr. Hawley gave a careless glance round at Bulstrodes back, -but as Bambridges eyes followed it he made a sarcastic grimace. - -By jingo! that reminds me, he began, lowering his voice a little, I -picked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse, Mr. Hawley. -I picked up a fine story about Bulstrode. Do you know how he came by -his fortune? Any gentleman wanting a bit of curious information, I can -give it him free of expense. If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode -might have had to say his prayers at Botany Bay. - -What do you mean? said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his hands into his -pockets, and pushing a little forward under the archway. If Bulstrode -should turn out to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul. - -I had it from a party who was an old chum of Bulstrodes. Ill tell -you where I first picked him up, said Bambridge, with a sudden gesture -of his fore-finger. He was at Larchers sale, but I knew nothing of -him thenhe slipped through my fingerswas after Bulstrode, no doubt. -He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. -However, he blabbed to me at Bilkley: he takes a stiff glass. Damme if -I think he meant to turn kings evidence; but hes that sort of -bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, till -hed brag of a spavin as if it ud fetch money. A man should know when -to pull up. Mr. Bambridge made this remark with an air of disgust, -satisfied that his own bragging showed a fine sense of the marketable. - -Whats the mans name? Where can he be found? said Mr. Hawley. - -As to where he is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracens Head; -but his name is Raffles. - -Raffles! exclaimed Mr. Hopkins. I furnished his funeral yesterday. -He was buried at Lowick. Mr. Bulstrode followed him. A very decent -funeral. There was a strong sensation among the listeners. Mr. -Bambridge gave an ejaculation in which brimstone was the mildest -word, and Mr. Hawley, knitting his brows and bending his head forward, -exclaimed, What?where did the man die? - -At Stone Court, said the draper. The housekeeper said he was a -relation of the masters. He came there ill on Friday. - -Why, it was on Wednesday I took a glass with him, interposed -Bambridge. - -Did any doctor attend him? said Mr. Hawley - -Yes. Mr. Lydgate. Mr. Bulstrode sat up with him one night. He died the -third morning. - -Go on, Bambridge, said Mr. Hawley, insistently. What did this fellow -say about Bulstrode? - -The group had already become larger, the town-clerks presence being a -guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. -Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven. It was -mainly what we know, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some -local color and circumstance added: it was what Bulstrode had dreaded -the betrayal ofand hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of -Rafflesit was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode -past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence -had delivered him from. Yes, Providence. He had not confessed to -himself yet that he had done anything in the way of contrivance to this -end; he had accepted what seemed to have been offered. It was -impossible to prove that he had done anything which hastened the -departure of that mans soul. - -But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the -smell of fire. Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending -a clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court on a pretext of inquiring -about hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles -and his illness from Mrs. Abel. In this way it came to his knowledge -that Mr. Garth had carried the man to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. -Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at -his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it -were required, and then asking him incidentally about Raffles. Caleb -was betrayed into no word injurious to Bulstrode beyond the fact which -he was forced to admit, that he had given up acting for him within the -last week. Mr Hawley drew his inferences, and feeling convinced that -Raffles had told his story to Garth, and that Garth had given up -Bulstrodes affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. -Toller. The statement was passed on until it had quite lost the stamp -of an inference, and was taken as information coming straight from -Garth, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to -be the chief publisher of Bulstrodes misdemeanors. - -Mr. Hawley was not slow to perceive that there was no handle for the -law either in the revelations made by Raffles or in the circumstances -of his death. He had himself ridden to Lowick village that he might -look at the register and talk over the whole matter with Mr. -Farebrother, who was not more surprised than the lawyer that an ugly -secret should have come to light about Bulstrode, though he had always -had justice enough in him to hinder his antipathy from turning into -conclusions. But while they were talking another combination was -silently going forward in Mr. Farebrothers mind, which foreshadowed -what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary -putting of two and two together. With the reasons which kept -Bulstrode in dread of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread -might have something to do with his munificence towards his medical -man; and though he resisted the suggestion that it had been consciously -accepted in any way as a bribe, he had a foreboding that this -complication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgates -reputation. He perceived that Mr. Hawley knew nothing at present of the -sudden relief from debt, and he himself was careful to glide away from -all approaches towards the subject. - -Well, he said, with a deep breath, wanting to wind up the illimitable -discussion of what might have been, though nothing could be legally -proven, it is a strange story. So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer -genealogy! A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot made -a likely enough stock for him to spring from, but I should never have -suspected a grafting of the Jew pawnbroker. However, theres no knowing -what a mixture will turn out beforehand. Some sorts of dirt serve to -clarify. - -Its just what I should have expected, said Mr. Hawley, mounting his -horse. Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy. - -I know hes one of your black sheep, Hawley. But he is really a -disinterested, unworldly fellow, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. - -Ay, ay, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Hawley, who had been in -the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned -pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a Tory. - -Mr. Hawley rode home without thinking of Lydgates attendance on -Raffles in any other light than as a piece of evidence on the side of -Bulstrode. But the news that Lydgate had all at once become able not -only to get rid of the execution in his house but to pay all his debts -in Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering round it conjectures and -comments which gave it new body and impetus, and soon filling the ears -of other persons besides Mr. Hawley, who were not slow to see a -significant relation between this sudden command of money and -Bulstrodes desire to stifle the scandal of Raffles. That the money -came from Bulstrode would infallibly have been guessed even if there -had been no direct evidence of it; for it had beforehand entered into -the gossip about Lydgates affairs, that neither his father-in-law nor -his own family would do anything for him, and direct evidence was -furnished not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by innocent Mrs. -Bulstrode herself, who mentioned the loan to Mrs. Plymdale, who -mentioned it to her daughter-in-law of the house of Toller, who -mentioned it generally. The business was felt to be so public and -important that it required dinners to feed it, and many invitations -were just then issued and accepted on the strength of this scandal -concerning Bulstrode and Lydgate; wives, widows, and single ladies took -their work and went out to tea oftener than usual; and all public -conviviality, from the Green Dragon to Dollops, gathered a zest which -could not be won from the question whether the Lords would throw out -the Reform Bill. - -For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at -the bottom of Bulstrodes liberality to Lydgate. Mr. Hawley indeed, in -the first instance, invited a select party, including the two -physicians, with Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close -discussion as to the probabilities of Raffless illness, reciting to -them all the particulars which had been gathered from Mrs. Abel in -connection with Lydgates certificate, that the death was due to -delirium tremens; and the medical gentlemen, who all stood -undisturbedly on the old paths in relation to this disease, declared -that they could see nothing in these particulars which could be -transformed into a positive ground of suspicion. But the moral grounds -of suspicion remained: the strong motives Bulstrode clearly had for -wishing to be rid of Raffles, and the fact that at this critical moment -he had given Lydgate the help which he must for some time have known -the need for; the disposition, moreover, to believe that Bulstrode -would be unscrupulous, and the absence of any indisposition to believe -that Lydgate might be as easily bribed as other haughty-minded men when -they have found themselves in want of money. Even if the money had been -given merely to make him hold his tongue about the scandal of -Bulstrodes earlier life, the fact threw an odious light on Lydgate, -who had long been sneered at as making himself subservient to the -banker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and -discrediting the elder members of his profession. Hence, in spite of -the negative as to any direct sign of guilt in relation to the death at -Stone Court, Mr. Hawleys select party broke up with the sense that the -affair had an ugly look. - -But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was enough to -keep up much head-shaking and biting innuendo even among substantial -professional seniors, had for the general mind all the superior power -of mystery over fact. Everybody liked better to conjecture how the -thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more -confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the -incompatible. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrodes -earlier life was, for some minds, melted into the mass of mystery, as -so much lively metal to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such -fantastic shapes as heaven pleased. - -This was the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. Dollop, the -spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had often to -resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that their -reports from the outer world were of equal force with what had come -up in her mind. How it had been brought to her she didnt know, but it -was there before her as if it had been scored with the chalk on the -chimney-board as Bulstrode should say, his inside was _that black_ -as if the hairs of his head knowed the thoughts of his heart, hed tear -em up by the roots. - -Thats odd, said Mr. Limp, a meditative shoemaker, with weak eyes and -a piping voice. Why, I read in the Trumpet that was what the Duke of -Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the Romans. - -Very like, said Mrs. Dollop. If one raskill said it, its more -reason why another should. But hypo_crite_ as hes been, and holding -things with that high hand, as there was no parson i the country good -enough for him, he was forced to take Old Harry into his counsel, and -Old Harrys been too many for him. - -Ay, ay, hes a complice you cant send out o the country, said Mr. -Crabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly. -But by what I can make out, theres them says Bulstrode was for -running away, for fear o being found out, before now. - -Hell be drove away, whether or no, said Mr. Dill, the barber, who -had just dropped in. I shaved Fletcher, Hawleys clerk, this -morninghes got a bad fingerand he says theyre all of one mind to -get rid of Bulstrode. Mr. Thesiger is turned against him, and wants him -out o the parish. And theres gentlemen in this town says theyd as -soon dine with a fellow from the hulks. And a deal sooner I would, -says Fletcher; for whats more against ones stomach than a man coming -and making himself bad company with his religion, and giving out as the -Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and all the while hes worse -than half the men at the tread-mill? Fletcher said so himself. - -Itll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrodes money goes -out of it, said Mr. Limp, quaveringly. - -Ah, theres better folks spend their money worse, said a firm-voiced -dyer, whose crimson hands looked out of keeping with his good-natured -face. - -But he wont keep his money, by what I can make out, said the -glazier. Dont they say as theres somebody can strip it off him? By -what I can understan, they could take every penny off him, if they -went to lawing. - -No such thing! said the barber, who felt himself a little above his -company at Dollops, but liked it none the worse. Fletcher says its -no such thing. He says they might prove over and over again whose child -this young Ladislaw was, and theyd do no more than if they proved I -came out of the Fenshe couldnt touch a penny. - -Look you there now! said Mrs. Dollop, indignantly. I thank the Lord -he took my children to Himself, if thats all the law can do for the -motherless. Then by that, its o no use who your father and mother is. -But as to listening to what one lawyer says without asking anotherI -wonder at a man o your cleverness, Mr. Dill. Its well known theres -always two sides, if no more; else whod go to law, I should like to -know? Its a poor tale, with all the law as there is up and down, if -its no use proving whose child you are. Fletcher may say that if he -likes, but I say, dont Fletcher _me_! - -Mr. Dill affected to laugh in a complimentary way at Mrs. Dollop, as a -woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to -submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against -him. - -If they come to lawing, and its all true as folks say, theres more -to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. Theres this poor -creetur as is dead and gone; by what I can make out, hed seen the day -when he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode. - -Finer gentleman! Ill warrant him, said Mrs. Dollop; and a far -personabler man, by what I can hear. As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the -tax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says, Bulstrode -got all his money as he brought into this town by thieving and -swindling,I said, You dont make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: its set -my blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin here he came into -Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks dont -look the color o the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to -see into your backbone for nothingk. That was what I said, and Mr. -Baldwin can bear me witness. - -And in the rights of it too, said Mr. Crabbe. For by what I can make -out, this Raffles, as they call him, was a lusty, fresh-colored man as -youd wish to see, and the best o companythough dead he lies in -Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can understan, theres -them knows more than they _should_ know about how he got there. - -Ill believe you! said Mrs. Dollop, with a touch of scorn at Mr. -Crabbes apparent dimness. When a mans been ticed to a lone house, -and theres them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the -country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and nobody to come -near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he -can hang together, and after that so flush o money as he can pay off -Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o -joints since last Michaelmas was a twelvemonthI dont want anybody to -come and tell me as theres been more going on nor the Prayer-books -got a service forI dont want to stand winking and blinking and -thinking. - -Mrs. Dollop looked round with the air of a landlady accustomed to -dominate her company. There was a chorus of adhesion from the more -courageous; but Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands -together and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them -with blear-eyed contemplation, as if the scorching power of Mrs. -Dollops speech had quite dried up and nullified his wits until they -could be brought round again by further moisture. - -Why shouldnt they dig the man up and have the Crowner? said the -dyer. Its been done many and manys the time. If theres been foul -play they might find it out. - -Not they, Mr. Jonas! said Mrs Dollop, emphatically. I know what -doctors are. Theyre a deal too cunning to be found out. And this -Doctor Lydgate thats been for cutting up everybody before the breath -was well out o their bodyits plain enough what use he wanted to make -o looking into respectable peoples insides. He knows drugs, you may -be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before theyre -swallowed nor after. Why, Ive seen drops myself ordered by Doctor -Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought -more live children into the world nor ever another i MiddlemarchI say -Ive seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the -glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. So Ill leave your -own sense to judge. Dont tell me! All I say is, its a mercy they -didnt take this Doctor Lydgate on to our club. Theres many a mothers -child might ha rued it. - -The heads of this discussion at Dollops had been the common theme -among all classes in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on -one side and to Tipton Grange on the other, had come fully to the ears -of the Vincy family, and had been discussed with sad reference to poor -Harriet by all Mrs. Bulstrodes friends, before Lydgate knew -distinctly why people were looking strangely at him, and before -Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of his secrets. He had not -been accustomed to very cordial relations with his neighbors, and hence -he could not miss the signs of cordiality; moreover, he had been taking -journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that -he need not quit Middlemarch, and feeling able consequently to -determine on matters which he had before left in suspense. - -We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a month or two, -he had said to his wife. There are great spiritual advantages to be -had in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there -will be eminently refreshing to us. - -He really believed in the spiritual advantages, and meant that his life -henceforth should be the more devoted because of those later sins which -he represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for -their pardon:if I have herein transgressed. - -As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, -fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the -death of Raffles. In his secret soul he believed that Lydgate suspected -his orders to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he -must also suspect a motive. But nothing had been betrayed to him as to -the history of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything -which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. As to any -certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or -kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he -had no right to speak, and he had every motive for being silent. Hence -Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured. The only incident he had -strongly winced under had been an occasional encounter with Caleb -Garth, who, however, had raised his hat with mild gravity. - -Meanwhile, on the part of the principal townsmen a strong determination -was growing against him. - -A meeting was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which -had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case -in the town. Since the Act of Parliament, which had been hurriedly -passed, authorizing assessments for sanitary measures, there had been a -Board for the superintendence of such measures appointed in -Middlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in -by Whigs and Tories. The question now was, whether a piece of ground -outside the town should be secured as a burial-ground by means of -assessment or by private subscription. The meeting was to be open, and -almost everybody of importance in the town was expected to be there. - -Mr. Bulstrode was a member of the Board, and just before twelve oclock -he started from the Bank with the intention of urging the plan of -private subscription. Under the hesitation of his projects, he had for -some time kept himself in the background, and he felt that he should -this morning resume his old position as a man of action and influence -in the public affairs of the town where he expected to end his days. -Among the various persons going in the same direction, he saw Lydgate; -they joined, talked over the object of the meeting, and entered it -together. - -It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. But there -were still spaces left near the head of the large central table, and -they made their way thither. Mr. Farebrother sat opposite, not far from -Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the -chair, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand. - -Lydgate noticed a peculiar interchange of glances when he and Bulstrode -took their seats. - -After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed -out the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of ground -large enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery, Mr. -Bulstrode, whose rather high-pitched but subdued and fluent voice the -town was used to at meetings of this sort, rose and asked leave to -deliver his opinion. Lydgate could see again the peculiar interchange -of glances before Mr. Hawley started up, and said in his firm resonant -voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his -opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of -public feeling, which not only by myself, but by many gentlemen -present, is regarded as preliminary. - -Mr. Hawleys mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his -awful language, was formidable in its curtness and self-possession. -Mr. Thesiger sanctioned the request, Mr. Bulstrode sat down, and Mr. -Hawley continued. - -In what I have to say, Mr. Chairman, I am not speaking simply on my -own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the express -request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are -immediately around us. It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode -should be called uponand I do now call upon himto resign public -positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman -among gentlemen. There are practices and there are acts which, owing to -circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than many -things which are legally punishable. Honest men and gentlemen, if they -dont want the company of people who perpetrate such acts, have got to -defend themselves as they best can, and that is what I and the friends -whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. I dont -say that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful acts, but I call -upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements -made against him by a man now dead, and who died in his housethe -statement that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, -and that he won his fortune by dishonest proceduresor else to withdraw -from positions which could only have been allowed him as a gentleman -among gentlemen. - -All eyes in the room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, since the first -mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost -too violent for his delicate frame to support. Lydgate, who himself was -undergoing a shock as from the terrible practical interpretation of -some faint augury, felt, nevertheless, that his own movement of -resentful hatred was checked by that instinct of the Healer which -thinks first of bringing rescue or relief to the sufferer, when he -looked at the shrunken misery of Bulstrodes livid face. - -The quick vision that his life was after all a failure, that he was a -dishonored man, and must quail before the glance of those towards whom -he had habitually assumed the attitude of a reproverthat God had -disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn -of those who were glad to have their hatred justifiedthe sense of -utter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with -the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously -upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie:all this rushed -through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves -the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. The sudden -sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety camenot to -the coarse organization of a criminal, but to the susceptible nerve of -a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the -conditions of his life had shaped for him. - -But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Through all his -bodily infirmity there ran a tenacious nerve of ambitious -self-preserving will, which had continually leaped out like a flame, -scattering all doctrinal fears, and which, even while he sat an object -of compassion for the merciful, was beginning to stir and glow under -his ashy paleness. Before the last words were out of Mr. Hawleys -mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should answer, and that his answer would -be a retort. He dared not get up and say, I am not guilty, the whole -story is falseeven if he had dared this, it would have seemed to him, -under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for -covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little -strain. - -For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room -was looking at Bulstrode. He sat perfectly still, leaning hard against -the back of his chair; he could not venture to rise, and when he began -to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. But -his voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser than usual, and his -words were distinctly pronounced, though he paused between sentence as -if short of breath. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, and -then looking at Mr. Hawley - -I protest before you, sir, as a Christian minister, against the -sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent -hatred. Those who are hostile to me are glad to believe any libel -uttered by a loose tongue against me. And their consciences become -strict against me. Say that the evil-speaking of which I am to be made -the victim accuses me of malpractices here Bulstrodes voice rose and -took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low crywho shall be my -accuser? Not men whose own lives are unchristian, nay, scandalousnot -men who themselves use low instruments to carry out their endswhose -profession is a tissue of chicanerywho have been spending their income -on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have been devoting mine to -advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next. - -After the word chicanery there was a growing noise, half of murmurs and -half of hisses, while four persons started up at onceMr. Hawley, Mr. -Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Hawleys outburst was -instantaneous, and left the others behind in silence. - -If you mean me, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection -of my professional life. As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate -your canting palavering Christianity; and as to the way in which I -spend my income, it is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat -offspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set -myself up as a saintly Killjoy. I affect no niceness of conscienceI -have not found any nice standards necessary yet to measure your actions -by, sir. And I again call upon you to enter into satisfactory -explanations concerning the scandals against you, or else to withdraw -from posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague. I say, -sir, we decline to co-operate with a man whose character is not cleared -from infamous lights cast upon it, not only by reports but by recent -actions. - -Allow me, Mr. Hawley, said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley, still -fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep -in his pockets. - -Mr. Bulstrode, it is not desirable, I think, to prolong the present -discussion, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I -must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in expression -of a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession -that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. I -for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing. -But I must say that your present attitude is painfully inconsistent -with those principles which you have sought to identify yourself with, -and for the honor of which I am bound to care. I recommend you at -present, as your clergyman, and one who hopes for your reinstatement in -respect, to quit the room, and avoid further hindrance to business. - -Bulstrode, after a moments hesitation, took his hat from the floor and -slowly rose, but he grasped the corner of the chair so totteringly that -Lydgate felt sure there was not strength enough in him to walk away -without support. What could he do? He could not see a man sink close to -him for want of help. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and in -that way led him out of the room; yet this act, which might have been -one of gentle duty and pure compassion, was at this moment unspeakably -bitter to him. It seemed as if he were putting his sign-manual to that -association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full -meaning as it must have presented itself to other minds. He now felt -the conviction that this man who was leaning tremblingly on his arm, -had given him the thousand pounds as a bribe, and that somehow the -treatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. The -inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, -believed it to be a bribe, and believed that he took it as a bribe. - -Poor Lydgate, his mind struggling under the terrible clutch of this -revelation, was all the while morally forced to take Mr. Bulstrode to -the Bank, send a man off for his carriage, and wait to accompany him -home. - -Meanwhile the business of the meeting was despatched, and fringed off -into eager discussion among various groups concerning this affair of -Bulstrodeand Lydgate. - -Mr. Brooke, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, and was -very uneasy that he had gone a little too far in countenancing -Bulstrode, now got himself fully informed, and felt some benevolent -sadness in talking to Mr. Farebrother about the ugly light in which -Lydgate had come to be regarded. Mr. Farebrother was going to walk back -to Lowick. - -Step into my carriage, said Mr. Brooke. I am going round to see Mrs. -Casaubon. She was to come back from Yorkshire last night. She will like -to see me, you know. - -So they drove along, Mr. Brooke chatting with good-natured hope that -there had not really been anything black in Lydgates behaviora young -fellow whom he had seen to be quite above the common mark, when he -brought a letter from his uncle Sir Godwin. Mr. Farebrother said -little: he was deeply mournful: with a keen perception of human -weakness, he could not be confident that under the pressure of -humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. - -When the carriage drove up to the gate of the Manor, Dorothea was out -on the gravel, and came to greet them. - -Well, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, we have just come from a meetinga -sanitary meeting, you know. - -Was Mr. Lydgate there? said Dorothea, who looked full of health and -animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April -lights. I want to see him and have a great consultation with him about -the Hospital. I have engaged with Mr. Bulstrode to do so. - -Oh, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, we have been hearing bad newsbad -news, you know. - -They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr. -Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the -whole sad story. - -She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the -facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. After a short silence, -pausing at the churchyard gate, and addressing Mr. Farebrother, she -said energetically - -You dont believe that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? I will -not believe it. Let us find out the truth and clear him! - - - - -BOOK VIII. -SUNSET AND SUNRISE. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXII. - -Full souls are double mirrors, making still -An endless vista of fair things before, -Repeating things behind. - - -Dorotheas impetuous generosity, which would have leaped at once to the -vindication of Lydgate from the suspicion of having accepted money as a -bribe, underwent a melancholy check when she came to consider all the -circumstances of the case by the light of Mr. Farebrothers experience. - -It is a delicate matter to touch, he said. How can we begin to -inquire into it? It must be either publicly by setting the magistrate -and coroner to work, or privately by questioning Lydgate. As to the -first proceeding there is no solid ground to go upon, else Hawley would -have adopted it; and as to opening the subject with Lydgate, I confess -I should shrink from it. He would probably take it as a deadly insult. -I have more than once experienced the difficulty of speaking to him on -personal matters. Andone should know the truth about his conduct -beforehand, to feel very confident of a good result. - -I feel convinced that his conduct has not been guilty: I believe that -people are almost always better than their neighbors think they are, -said Dorothea. Some of her intensest experience in the last two years -had set her mind strongly in opposition to any unfavorable construction -of others; and for the first time she felt rather discontented with Mr. -Farebrother. She disliked this cautious weighing of consequences, -instead of an ardent faith in efforts of justice and mercy, which would -conquer by their emotional force. Two days afterwards, he was dining at -the Manor with her uncle and the Chettams, and when the dessert was -standing uneaten, the servants were out of the room, and Mr. Brooke was -nodding in a nap, she returned to the subject with renewed vivacity. - -Mr. Lydgate would understand that if his friends hear a calumny about -him their first wish must be to justify him. What do we live for, if it -is not to make life less difficult to each other? I cannot be -indifferent to the troubles of a man who advised me in _my_ trouble, -and attended me in my illness. - -Dorotheas tone and manner were not more energetic than they had been -when she was at the head of her uncles table nearly three years -before, and her experience since had given her more right to express a -decided opinion. But Sir James Chettam was no longer the diffident and -acquiescent suitor: he was the anxious brother-in-law, with a devout -admiration for his sister, but with a constant alarm lest she should -fall under some new illusion almost as bad as marrying Casaubon. He -smiled much less; when he said Exactly it was more often an -introduction to a dissentient opinion than in those submissive bachelor -days; and Dorothea found to her surprise that she had to resolve not to -be afraid of himall the more because he was really her best friend. He -disagreed with her now. - -But, Dorothea, he said, remonstrantly, you cant undertake to manage -a mans life for him in that way. Lydgate must knowat least he will -soon come to know how he stands. If he can clear himself, he will. He -must act for himself. - -I think his friends must wait till they find an opportunity, added -Mr. Farebrother. It is possibleI have often felt so much weakness in -myself that I can conceive even a man of honorable disposition, such as -I have always believed Lydgate to be, succumbing to such a temptation -as that of accepting money which was offered more or less indirectly as -a bribe to insure his silence about scandalous facts long gone by. I -say, I can conceive this, if he were under the pressure of hard -circumstancesif he had been harassed as I feel sure Lydgate has been. -I would not believe anything worse of him except under stringent proof. -But there is the terrible Nemesis following on some errors, that it is -always possible for those who like it to interpret them into a crime: -there is no proof in favor of the man outside his own consciousness and -assertion. - -Oh, how cruel! said Dorothea, clasping her hands. And would you not -like to be the one person who believed in that mans innocence, if the -rest of the world belied him? Besides, there is a mans character -beforehand to speak for him. - -But, my dear Mrs. Casaubon, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling gently at -her ardor, character is not cut in marbleit is not something solid -and unalterable. It is something living and changing, and may become -diseased as our bodies do. - -Then it may be rescued and healed, said Dorothea I should not be -afraid of asking Mr. Lydgate to tell me the truth, that I might help -him. Why should I be afraid? Now that I am not to have the land, James, -I might do as Mr. Bulstrode proposed, and take his place in providing -for the Hospital; and I have to consult Mr. Lydgate, to know thoroughly -what are the prospects of doing good by keeping up the present plans. -There is the best opportunity in the world for me to ask for his -confidence; and he would be able to tell me things which might make all -the circumstances clear. Then we would all stand by him and bring him -out of his trouble. People glorify all sorts of bravery except the -bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors. -Dorotheas eyes had a moist brightness in them, and the changed tones -of her voice roused her uncle, who began to listen. - -It is true that a woman may venture on some efforts of sympathy which -would hardly succeed if we men undertook them, said Mr. Farebrother, -almost converted by Dorotheas ardor. - -Surely, a woman is bound to be cautious and listen to those who know -the world better than she does. said Sir James, with his little frown. -Whatever you do in the end, Dorothea, you should really keep back at -present, and not volunteer any meddling with this Bulstrode business. -We dont know yet what may turn up. You must agree with me? he ended, -looking at Mr. Farebrother. - -I do think it would be better to wait, said the latter. - -Yes, yes, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, not quite knowing at what point -the discussion had arrived, but coming up to it with a contribution -which was generally appropriate. It is easy to go too far, you know. -You must not let your ideas run away with you. And as to being in a -hurry to put money into schemesit wont do, you know. Garth has drawn -me in uncommonly with repairs, draining, that sort of thing: Im -uncommonly out of pocket with one thing or another. I must pull up. As -for you, Chettam, you are spending a fortune on those oak fences round -your demesne. - -Dorothea, submitting uneasily to this discouragement, went with Celia -into the library, which was her usual drawing-room. - -Now, Dodo, do listen to what James says, said Celia, else you will -be getting into a scrape. You always did, and you always will, when you -set about doing as you please. And I think it is a mercy now after all -that you have got James to think for you. He lets you have your plans, -only he hinders you from being taken in. And that is the good of having -a brother instead of a husband. A husband would not let you have your -plans. - -As if I wanted a husband! said Dorothea. I only want not to have my -feelings checked at every turn. Mrs. Casaubon was still undisciplined -enough to burst into angry tears. - -Now, really, Dodo, said Celia, with rather a deeper guttural than -usual, you _are_ contradictory: first one thing and then another. You -used to submit to Mr. Casaubon quite shamefully: I think you would have -given up ever coming to see me if he had asked you. - -Of course I submitted to him, because it was my duty; it was my -feeling for him, said Dorothea, looking through the prism of her -tears. - -Then why cant you think it your duty to submit a little to what James -wishes? said Celia, with a sense of stringency in her argument. -Because he only wishes what is for your own good. And, of course, men -know best about everything, except what women know better. Dorothea -laughed and forgot her tears. - -Well, I mean about babies and those things, explained Celia. I -should not give up to James when I knew he was wrong, as you used to do -to Mr. Casaubon. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIII. - -Pity the laden one; this wandering woe -May visit you and me. - - -When Lydgate had allayed Mrs. Bulstrodes anxiety by telling her that -her husband had been seized with faintness at the meeting, but that he -trusted soon to see him better and would call again the next day, -unless she sent for him earlier, he went directly home, got on his -horse, and rode three miles out of the town for the sake of being out -of reach. - -He felt himself becoming violent and unreasonable as if raging under -the pain of stings: he was ready to curse the day on which he had come -to Middlemarch. Everything that had happened to him there seemed a mere -preparation for this hateful fatality, which had come as a blight on -his honorable ambition, and must make even people who had only vulgar -standards regard his reputation as irrevocably damaged. In such moments -a man can hardly escape being unloving. Lydgate thought of himself as -the sufferer, and of others as the agents who had injured his lot. He -had meant everything to turn out differently; and others had thrust -themselves into his life and thwarted his purposes. His marriage seemed -an unmitigated calamity; and he was afraid of going to Rosamond before -he had vented himself in this solitary rage, lest the mere sight of her -should exasperate him and make him behave unwarrantably. There are -episodes in most mens lives in which their highest qualities can only -cast a deterring shadow over the objects that fill their inward vision: -Lydgates tenderheartedness was present just then only as a dread lest -he should offend against it, not as an emotion that swayed him to -tenderness. For he was very miserable. Only those who know the -supremacy of the intellectual lifethe life which has a seed of -ennobling thought and purpose within itcan understand the grief of one -who falls from that serene activity into the absorbing soul-wasting -struggle with worldly annoyances. - -How was he to live on without vindicating himself among people who -suspected him of baseness? How could he go silently away from -Middlemarch as if he were retreating before a just condemnation? And -yet how was he to set about vindicating himself? - -For that scene at the meeting, which he had just witnessed, although it -had told him no particulars, had been enough to make his own situation -thoroughly clear to him. Bulstrode had been in dread of scandalous -disclosures on the part of Raffles. Lydgate could now construct all the -probabilities of the case. He was afraid of some betrayal in my -hearing: all he wanted was to bind me to him by a strong obligation: -that was why he passed on a sudden from hardness to liberality. And he -may have tampered with the patienthe may have disobeyed my orders. I -fear he did. But whether he did or not, the world believes that he -somehow or other poisoned the man and that I winked at the crime, if I -didnt help in it. And yetand yet he may not be guilty of the last -offence; and it is just possible that the change towards me may have -been a genuine relentingthe effect of second thoughts such as he -alleged. What we call the just possible is sometimes true and the -thing we find it easier to believe is grossly false. In his last -dealings with this man Bulstrode may have kept his hands pure, in spite -of my suspicion to the contrary. - -There was a benumbing cruelty in his position. Even if he renounced -every other consideration than that of justifying himselfif he met -shrugs, cold glances, and avoidance as an accusation, and made a public -statement of all the facts as he knew them, who would be convinced? It -would be playing the part of a fool to offer his own testimony on -behalf of himself, and say, I did not take the money as a bribe. The -circumstances would always be stronger than his assertion. And besides, -to come forward and tell everything about himself must include -declarations about Bulstrode which would darken the suspicions of -others against him. He must tell that he had not known of Raffless -existence when he first mentioned his pressing need of money to -Bulstrode, and that he took the money innocently as a result of that -communication, not knowing that a new motive for the loan might have -arisen on his being called in to this man. And after all, the suspicion -of Bulstrodes motives might be unjust. - -But then came the question whether he should have acted in precisely -the same way if he had not taken the money? Certainly, if Raffles had -continued alive and susceptible of further treatment when he arrived, -and he had then imagined any disobedience to his orders on the part of -Bulstrode, he would have made a strict inquiry, and if his conjecture -had been verified he would have thrown up the case, in spite of his -recent heavy obligation. But if he had not received any moneyif -Bulstrode had never revoked his cold recommendation of bankruptcywould -he, Lydgate, have abstained from all inquiry even on finding the man -dead?would the shrinking from an insult to Bulstrodewould the -dubiousness of all medical treatment and the argument that his own -treatment would pass for the wrong with most members of his -professionhave had just the same force or significance with him? - -That was the uneasy corner of Lydgates consciousness while he was -reviewing the facts and resisting all reproach. If he had been -independent, this matter of a patients treatment and the distinct rule -that he must do or see done that which he believed best for the life -committed to him, would have been the point on which he would have been -the sturdiest. As it was, he had rested in the consideration that -disobedience to his orders, however it might have arisen, could not be -considered a crime, that in the dominant opinion obedience to his -orders was just as likely to be fatal, and that the affair was simply -one of etiquette. Whereas, again and again, in his time of freedom, he -had denounced the perversion of pathological doubt into moral doubt and -had saidthe purest experiment in treatment may still be -conscientious: my business is to take care of life, and to do the best -I can think of for it. Science is properly more scrupulous than dogma. -Dogma gives a charter to mistake, but the very breath of science is a -contest with mistake, and must keep the conscience alive. Alas! the -scientific conscience had got into the debasing company of money -obligation and selfish respects. - -Is there a medical man of them all in Middlemarch who would question -himself as I do? said poor Lydgate, with a renewed outburst of -rebellion against the oppression of his lot. And yet they will all -feel warranted in making a wide space between me and them, as if I were -a leper! My practice and my reputation are utterly damnedI can see -that. Even if I could be cleared by valid evidence, it would make -little difference to the blessed world here. I have been set down as -tainted and should be cheapened to them all the same. - -Already there had been abundant signs which had hitherto puzzled him, -that just when he had been paying off his debts and getting cheerfully -on his feet, the townsmen were avoiding him or looking strangely at -him, and in two instances it came to his knowledge that patients of his -had called in another practitioner. The reasons were too plain now. The -general black-balling had begun. - -No wonder that in Lydgates energetic nature the sense of a hopeless -misconstruction easily turned into a dogged resistance. The scowl which -occasionally showed itself on his square brow was not a meaningless -accident. Already when he was re-entering the town after that ride -taken in the first hours of stinging pain, he was setting his mind on -remaining in Middlemarch in spite of the worst that could be done -against him. He would not retreat before calumny, as if he submitted to -it. He would face it to the utmost, and no act of his should show that -he was afraid. It belonged to the generosity as well as defiant force -of his nature that he resolved not to shrink from showing to the full -his sense of obligation to Bulstrode. It was true that the association -with this man had been fatal to himtrue that if he had had the -thousand pounds still in his hands with all his debts unpaid he would -have returned the money to Bulstrode, and taken beggary rather than the -rescue which had been sullied with the suspicion of a bribe (for, -remember, he was one of the proudest among the sons of -men)nevertheless, he would not turn away from this crushed -fellow-mortal whose aid he had used, and make a pitiful effort to get -acquittal for himself by howling against another. I shall do as I -think right, and explain to nobody. They will try to starve me out, -but he was going on with an obstinate resolve, but he was getting -near home, and the thought of Rosamond urged itself again into that -chief place from which it had been thrust by the agonized struggles of -wounded honor and pride. - -How would Rosamond take it all? Here was another weight of chain to -drag, and poor Lydgate was in a bad mood for bearing her dumb mastery. -He had no impulse to tell her the trouble which must soon be common to -them both. He preferred waiting for the incidental disclosure which -events must soon bring about. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIV. - -Mercifully grant that we may grow aged together. -BOOK OF TOBIT: _Marriage Prayer_. - - -In Middlemarch a wife could not long remain ignorant that the town held -a bad opinion of her husband. No feminine intimate might carry her -friendship so far as to make a plain statement to the wife of the -unpleasant fact known or believed about her husband; but when a woman -with her thoughts much at leisure got them suddenly employed on -something grievously disadvantageous to her neighbors, various moral -impulses were called into play which tended to stimulate utterance. -Candor was one. To be candid, in Middlemarch phraseology, meant, to use -an early opportunity of letting your friends know that you did not take -a cheerful view of their capacity, their conduct, or their position; -and a robust candor never waited to be asked for its opinion. Then, -again, there was the love of trutha wide phrase, but meaning in this -relation, a lively objection to seeing a wife look happier than her -husbands character warranted, or manifest too much satisfaction in her -lotthe poor thing should have some hint given her that if she knew the -truth she would have less complacency in her bonnet, and in light -dishes for a supper-party. Stronger than all, there was the regard for -a friends moral improvement, sometimes called her soul, which was -likely to be benefited by remarks tending to gloom, uttered with the -accompaniment of pensive staring at the furniture and a manner implying -that the speaker would not tell what was on her mind, from regard to -the feelings of her hearer. On the whole, one might say that an ardent -charity was at work setting the virtuous mind to make a neighbor -unhappy for her good. - -There were hardly any wives in Middlemarch whose matrimonial -misfortunes would in different ways be likely to call forth more of -this moral activity than Rosamond and her aunt Bulstrode. Mrs. -Bulstrode was not an object of dislike, and had never consciously -injured any human being. Men had always thought her a handsome -comfortable woman, and had reckoned it among the signs of Bulstrodes -hypocrisy that he had chosen a red-blooded Vincy, instead of a ghastly -and melancholy person suited to his low esteem for earthly pleasure. -When the scandal about her husband was disclosed they remarked of -herAh, poor woman! Shes as honest as the day_she_ never suspected -anything wrong in him, you may depend on it. Women, who were intimate -with her, talked together much of poor Harriet, imagined what her -feelings must be when she came to know everything, and conjectured how -much she had already come to know. There was no spiteful disposition -towards her; rather, there was a busy benevolence anxious to ascertain -what it would be well for her to feel and do under the circumstances, -which of course kept the imagination occupied with her character and -history from the times when she was Harriet Vincy till now. With the -review of Mrs. Bulstrode and her position it was inevitable to -associate Rosamond, whose prospects were under the same blight with her -aunts. Rosamond was more severely criticised and less pitied, though -she too, as one of the good old Vincy family who had always been known -in Middlemarch, was regarded as a victim to marriage with an -interloper. The Vincys had their weaknesses, but then they lay on the -surface: there was never anything bad to be found out concerning -them. Mrs. Bulstrode was vindicated from any resemblance to her -husband. Harriets faults were her own. - -She has always been showy, said Mrs. Hackbutt, making tea for a small -party, though she has got into the way of putting her religion -forward, to conform to her husband; she has tried to hold her head up -above Middlemarch by making it known that she invites clergymen and -heaven-knows-who from Riverston and those places. - -We can hardly blame her for that, said Mrs. Sprague; because few of -the best people in the town cared to associate with Bulstrode, and she -must have somebody to sit down at her table. - -Mr. Thesiger has always countenanced him, said Mrs. Hackbutt. I -think he must be sorry now. - -But he was never fond of him in his heartthat every one knows, said -Mrs. Tom Toller. Mr. Thesiger never goes into extremes. He keeps to -the truth in what is evangelical. It is only clergymen like Mr. Tyke, -who want to use Dissenting hymn-books and that low kind of religion, -who ever found Bulstrode to their taste. - -I understand, Mr. Tyke is in great distress about him, said Mrs. -Hackbutt. And well he may be: they say the Bulstrodes have half kept -the Tyke family. - -And of course it is a discredit to his doctrines, said Mrs. Sprague, -who was elderly, and old-fashioned in her opinions. - -People will not make a boast of being methodistical in Middlemarch for -a good while to come. - -I think we must not set down peoples bad actions to their religion, -said falcon-faced Mrs. Plymdale, who had been listening hitherto. - -Oh, my dear, we are forgetting, said Mrs. Sprague. We ought not to -be talking of this before you. - -I am sure I have no reason to be partial, said Mrs. Plymdale, -coloring. Its true Mr. Plymdale has always been on good terms with -Mr. Bulstrode, and Harriet Vincy was my friend long before she married -him. But I have always kept my own opinions and told her where she was -wrong, poor thing. Still, in point of religion, I must say, Mr. -Bulstrode might have done what he has, and worse, and yet have been a -man of no religion. I dont say that there has not been a little too -much of thatI like moderation myself. But truth is truth. The men -tried at the assizes are not all over-religious, I suppose. - -Well, said Mrs. Hackbutt, wheeling adroitly, all I can say is, that -I think she ought to separate from him. - -I cant say that, said Mrs. Sprague. She took him for better or -worse, you know. - -But worse can never mean finding out that your husband is fit for -Newgate, said Mrs. Hackbutt. Fancy living with such a man! I should -expect to be poisoned. - -Yes, I think myself it is an encouragement to crime if such men are to -be taken care of and waited on by good wives, said Mrs. Tom Toller. - -And a good wife poor Harriet has been, said Mrs. Plymdale. She -thinks her husband the first of men. Its true he has never denied her -anything. - -Well, we shall see what she will do, said Mrs. Hackbutt. I suppose -she knows nothing yet, poor creature. I do hope and trust I shall not -see her, for I should be frightened to death lest I should say anything -about her husband. Do you think any hint has reached her? - -I should hardly think so, said Mrs. Tom Toller. We hear that _he_ is -ill, and has never stirred out of the house since the meeting on -Thursday; but she was with her girls at church yesterday, and they had -new Tuscan bonnets. Her own had a feather in it. I have never seen that -her religion made any difference in her dress. - -She wears very neat patterns always, said Mrs. Plymdale, a little -stung. And that feather I know she got dyed a pale lavender on purpose -to be consistent. I must say it of Harriet that she wishes to do -right. - -As to her knowing what has happened, it cant be kept from her long, -said Mrs. Hackbutt. The Vincys know, for Mr. Vincy was at the meeting. -It will be a great blow to him. There is his daughter as well as his -sister. - -Yes, indeed, said Mrs. Sprague. Nobody supposes that Mr. Lydgate can -go on holding up his head in Middlemarch, things look so black about -the thousand pounds he took just at that mans death. It really makes -one shudder. - -Pride must have a fall, said Mrs. Hackbutt. - -I am not so sorry for Rosamond Vincy that was as I am for her aunt, -said Mrs. Plymdale. She needed a lesson. - -I suppose the Bulstrodes will go and live abroad somewhere, said Mrs. -Sprague. That is what is generally done when there is anything -disgraceful in a family. - -And a most deadly blow it will be to Harriet, said Mrs. Plymdale. If -ever a woman was crushed, she will be. I pity her from my heart. And -with all her faults, few women are better. From a girl she had the -neatest ways, and was always good-hearted, and as open as the day. You -might look into her drawers when you wouldalways the same. And so she -has brought up Kate and Ellen. You may think how hard it will be for -her to go among foreigners. - -The doctor says that is what he should recommend the Lydgates to do, -said Mrs. Sprague. He says Lydgate ought to have kept among the -French. - -That would suit _her_ well enough, I dare say, said Mrs. Plymdale; -there is that kind of lightness about her. But she got that from her -mother; she never got it from her aunt Bulstrode, who always gave her -good advice, and to my knowledge would rather have had her marry -elsewhere. - -Mrs. Plymdale was in a situation which caused her some complication of -feeling. There had been not only her intimacy with Mrs. Bulstrode, but -also a profitable business relation of the great Plymdale dyeing house -with Mr. Bulstrode, which on the one hand would have inclined her to -desire that the mildest view of his character should be the true one, -but on the other, made her the more afraid of seeming to palliate his -culpability. Again, the late alliance of her family with the Tollers -had brought her in connection with the best circle, which gratified her -in every direction except in the inclination to those serious views -which she believed to be the best in another sense. The sharp little -womans conscience was somewhat troubled in the adjustment of these -opposing bests, and of her griefs and satisfactions under late -events, which were likely to humble those who needed humbling, but also -to fall heavily on her old friend whose faults she would have preferred -seeing on a background of prosperity. - -Poor Mrs. Bulstrode, meanwhile, had been no further shaken by the -oncoming tread of calamity than in the busier stirring of that secret -uneasiness which had always been present in her since the last visit of -Raffles to The Shrubs. That the hateful man had come ill to Stone -Court, and that her husband had chosen to remain there and watch over -him, she allowed to be explained by the fact that Raffles had been -employed and aided in earlier-days, and that this made a tie of -benevolence towards him in his degraded helplessness; and she had been -since then innocently cheered by her husbands more hopeful speech -about his own health and ability to continue his attention to business. -The calm was disturbed when Lydgate had brought him home ill from the -meeting, and in spite of comforting assurances during the next few -days, she cried in private from the conviction that her husband was not -suffering from bodily illness merely, but from something that afflicted -his mind. He would not allow her to read to him, and scarcely to sit -with him, alleging nervous susceptibility to sounds and movements; yet -she suspected that in shutting himself up in his private room he wanted -to be busy with his papers. Something, she felt sure, had happened. -Perhaps it was some great loss of money; and she was kept in the dark. -Not daring to question her husband, she said to Lydgate, on the fifth -day after the meeting, when she had not left home except to go to -church - -Mr. Lydgate, pray be open with me: I like to know the truth. Has -anything happened to Mr. Bulstrode? - -Some little nervous shock, said Lydgate, evasively. He felt that it -was not for him to make the painful revelation. - -But what brought it on? said Mrs. Bulstrode, looking directly at him -with her large dark eyes. - -There is often something poisonous in the air of public rooms, said -Lydgate. Strong men can stand it, but it tells on people in proportion -to the delicacy of their systems. It is often impossible to account for -the precise moment of an attackor rather, to say why the strength -gives way at a particular moment. - -Mrs. Bulstrode was not satisfied with this answer. There remained in -her the belief that some calamity had befallen her husband, of which -she was to be kept in ignorance; and it was in her nature strongly to -object to such concealment. She begged leave for her daughters to sit -with their father, and drove into the town to pay some visits, -conjecturing that if anything were known to have gone wrong in Mr. -Bulstrodes affairs, she should see or hear some sign of it. - -She called on Mrs. Thesiger, who was not at home, and then drove to -Mrs. Hackbutts on the other side of the churchyard. Mrs. Hackbutt saw -her coming from an up-stairs window, and remembering her former alarm -lest she should meet Mrs. Bulstrode, felt almost bound in consistency -to send word that she was not at home; but against that, there was a -sudden strong desire within her for the excitement of an interview in -which she was quite determined not to make the slightest allusion to -what was in her mind. - -Hence Mrs. Bulstrode was shown into the drawing-room, and Mrs. Hackbutt -went to her, with more tightness of lip and rubbing of her hands than -was usually observable in her, these being precautions adopted against -freedom of speech. She was resolved not to ask how Mr. Bulstrode was. - -I have not been anywhere except to church for nearly a week, said -Mrs. Bulstrode, after a few introductory remarks. But Mr. Bulstrode -was taken so ill at the meeting on Thursday that I have not liked to -leave the house. - -Mrs. Hackbutt rubbed the back of one hand with the palm of the other -held against her chest, and let her eyes ramble over the pattern on the -rug. - -Was Mr. Hackbutt at the meeting? persevered Mrs. Bulstrode. - -Yes, he was, said Mrs. Hackbutt, with the same attitude. The land is -to be bought by subscription, I believe. - -Let us hope that there will be no more cases of cholera to be buried -in it, said Mrs. Bulstrode. It is an awful visitation. But I always -think Middlemarch a very healthy spot. I suppose it is being used to it -from a child; but I never saw the town I should like to live at better, -and especially our end. - -I am sure I should be glad that you always should live at Middlemarch, -Mrs. Bulstrode, said Mrs. Hackbutt, with a slight sigh. Still, we -must learn to resign ourselves, wherever our lot may be cast. Though I -am sure there will always be people in this town who will wish you -well. - -Mrs. Hackbutt longed to say, if you take my advice you will part from -your husband, but it seemed clear to her that the poor woman knew -nothing of the thunder ready to bolt on her head, and she herself could -do no more than prepare her a little. Mrs. Bulstrode felt suddenly -rather chill and trembling: there was evidently something unusual -behind this speech of Mrs. Hackbutts; but though she had set out with -the desire to be fully informed, she found herself unable now to pursue -her brave purpose, and turning the conversation by an inquiry about the -young Hackbutts, she soon took her leave saying that she was going to -see Mrs. Plymdale. On her way thither she tried to imagine that there -might have been some unusually warm sparring at the meeting between Mr. -Bulstrode and some of his frequent opponentsperhaps Mr. Hackbutt might -have been one of them. That would account for everything. - -But when she was in conversation with Mrs. Plymdale that comforting -explanation seemed no longer tenable. Selina received her with a -pathetic affectionateness and a disposition to give edifying answers on -the commonest topics, which could hardly have reference to an ordinary -quarrel of which the most important consequence was a perturbation of -Mr. Bulstrodes health. Beforehand Mrs. Bulstrode had thought that she -would sooner question Mrs. Plymdale than any one else; but she found to -her surprise that an old friend is not always the person whom it is -easiest to make a confidant of: there was the barrier of remembered -communication under other circumstancesthere was the dislike of being -pitied and informed by one who had been long wont to allow her the -superiority. For certain words of mysterious appropriateness that Mrs. -Plymdale let fall about her resolution never to turn her back on her -friends, convinced Mrs. Bulstrode that what had happened must be some -kind of misfortune, and instead of being able to say with her native -directness, What is it that you have in your mind? she found herself -anxious to get away before she had heard anything more explicit. She -began to have an agitating certainty that the misfortune was something -more than the mere loss of money, being keenly sensitive to the fact -that Selina now, just as Mrs. Hackbutt had done before, avoided -noticing what she said about her husband, as they would have avoided -noticing a personal blemish. - -She said good-by with nervous haste, and told the coachman to drive to -Mr. Vincys warehouse. In that short drive her dread gathered so much -force from the sense of darkness, that when she entered the private -counting-house where her brother sat at his desk, her knees trembled -and her usually florid face was deathly pale. Something of the same -effect was produced in him by the sight of her: he rose from his seat -to meet her, took her by the hand, and said, with his impulsive -rashness - -God help you, Harriet! you know all. - -That moment was perhaps worse than any which came after. It contained -that concentrated experience which in great crises of emotion reveals -the bias of a nature, and is prophetic of the ultimate act which will -end an intermediate struggle. Without that memory of Raffles she might -still have thought only of monetary ruin, but now along with her -brothers look and words there darted into her mind the idea of some -guilt in her husbandthen, under the working of terror came the image -of her husband exposed to disgraceand then, after an instant of -scorching shame in which she felt only the eyes of the world, with one -leap of her heart she was at his side in mournful but unreproaching -fellowship with shame and isolation. All this went on within her in a -mere flash of timewhile she sank into the chair, and raised her eyes -to her brother, who stood over her. I know nothing, Walter. What is -it? she said, faintly. - -He told her everything, very inartificially, in slow fragments, making -her aware that the scandal went much beyond proof, especially as to the -end of Raffles. - -People will talk, he said. Even if a man has been acquitted by a -jury, theyll talk, and nod and winkand as far as the world goes, a -man might often as well be guilty as not. Its a breakdown blow, and it -damages Lydgate as much as Bulstrode. I dont pretend to say what is -the truth. I only wish we had never heard the name of either Bulstrode -or Lydgate. Youd better have been a Vincy all your life, and so had -Rosamond. Mrs. Bulstrode made no reply. - -But you must bear up as well as you can, Harriet. People dont blame -_you_. And Ill stand by you whatever you make up your mind to do, -said the brother, with rough but well-meaning affectionateness. - -Give me your arm to the carriage, Walter, said Mrs. Bulstrode. I -feel very weak. - -And when she got home she was obliged to say to her daughter, I am not -well, my dear; I must go and lie down. Attend to your papa. Leave me in -quiet. I shall take no dinner. - -She locked herself in her room. She needed time to get used to her -maimed consciousness, her poor lopped life, before she could walk -steadily to the place allotted her. A new searching light had fallen on -her husbands character, and she could not judge him leniently: the -twenty years in which she had believed in him and venerated him by -virtue of his concealments came back with particulars that made them -seem an odious deceit. He had married her with that bad past life -hidden behind him, and she had no faith left to protest his innocence -of the worst that was imputed to him. Her honest ostentatious nature -made the sharing of a merited dishonor as bitter as it could be to any -mortal. - -But this imperfectly taught woman, whose phrases and habits were an odd -patchwork, had a loyal spirit within her. The man whose prosperity she -had shared through nearly half a life, and who had unvaryingly -cherished hernow that punishment had befallen him it was not possible -to her in any sense to forsake him. There is a forsaking which still -sits at the same board and lies on the same couch with the forsaken -soul, withering it the more by unloving proximity. She knew, when she -locked her door, that she should unlock it ready to go down to her -unhappy husband and espouse his sorrow, and say of his guilt, I will -mourn and not reproach. But she needed time to gather up her strength; -she needed to sob out her farewell to all the gladness and pride of her -life. When she had resolved to go down, she prepared herself by some -little acts which might seem mere folly to a hard onlooker; they were -her way of expressing to all spectators visible or invisible that she -had begun a new life in which she embraced humiliation. She took off -all her ornaments and put on a plain black gown, and instead of wearing -her much-adorned cap and large bows of hair, she brushed her hair down -and put on a plain bonnet-cap, which made her look suddenly like an -early Methodist. - -Bulstrode, who knew that his wife had been out and had come in saying -that she was not well, had spent the time in an agitation equal to -hers. He had looked forward to her learning the truth from others, and -had acquiesced in that probability, as something easier to him than any -confession. But now that he imagined the moment of her knowledge come, -he awaited the result in anguish. His daughters had been obliged to -consent to leave him, and though he had allowed some food to be brought -to him, he had not touched it. He felt himself perishing slowly in -unpitied misery. Perhaps he should never see his wifes face with -affection in it again. And if he turned to God there seemed to be no -answer but the pressure of retribution. - -It was eight oclock in the evening before the door opened and his wife -entered. He dared not look up at her. He sat with his eyes bent down, -and as she went towards him she thought he looked smallerhe seemed so -withered and shrunken. A movement of new compassion and old tenderness -went through her like a great wave, and putting one hand on his which -rested on the arm of the chair, and the other on his shoulder, she -said, solemnly but kindly - -Look up, Nicholas. - -He raised his eyes with a little start and looked at her half amazed -for a moment: her pale face, her changed, mourning dress, the trembling -about her mouth, all said, I know; and her hands and eyes rested -gently on him. He burst out crying and they cried together, she sitting -at his side. They could not yet speak to each other of the shame which -she was bearing with him, or of the acts which had brought it down on -them. His confession was silent, and her promise of faithfulness was -silent. Open-minded as she was, she nevertheless shrank from the words -which would have expressed their mutual consciousness, as she would -have shrunk from flakes of fire. She could not say, How much is only -slander and false suspicion? and he did not say, I am innocent. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXV. - -Le sentiment de la fausset des plaisirs prsents, et lignorance de -la vanit des plaisirs absents causent linconstance.PASCAL. - - -Rosamond had a gleam of returning cheerfulness when the house was freed -from the threatening figure, and when all the disagreeable creditors -were paid. But she was not joyous: her married life had fulfilled none -of her hopes, and had been quite spoiled for her imagination. In this -brief interval of calm, Lydgate, remembering that he had often been -stormy in his hours of perturbation, and mindful of the pain Rosamond -had had to bear, was carefully gentle towards her; but he, too, had -lost some of his old spirit, and he still felt it necessary to refer to -an economical change in their way of living as a matter of course, -trying to reconcile her to it gradually, and repressing his anger when -she answered by wishing that he would go to live in London. When she -did not make this answer, she listened languidly, and wondered what she -had that was worth living for. The hard and contemptuous words which -had fallen from her husband in his anger had deeply offended that -vanity which he had at first called into active enjoyment; and what she -regarded as his perverse way of looking at things, kept up a secret -repulsion, which made her receive all his tenderness as a poor -substitute for the happiness he had failed to give her. They were at a -disadvantage with their neighbors, and there was no longer any outlook -towards Quallinghamthere was no outlook anywhere except in an -occasional letter from Will Ladislaw. She had felt stung and -disappointed by Wills resolution to quit Middlemarch, for in spite of -what she knew and guessed about his admiration for Dorothea, she -secretly cherished the belief that he had, or would necessarily come to -have, much more admiration for herself; Rosamond being one of those -women who live much in the idea that each man they meet would have -preferred them if the preference had not been hopeless. Mrs. Casaubon -was all very well; but Wills interest in her dated before he knew Mrs. -Lydgate. Rosamond took his way of talking to herself, which was a -mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as the -disguise of a deeper feeling; and in his presence she felt that -agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of romantic drama which -Lydgates presence had no longer the magic to create. She even -fanciedwhat will not men and women fancy in these matters?that Will -exaggerated his admiration for Mrs. Casaubon in order to pique herself. -In this way poor Rosamonds brain had been busy before Wills -departure. He would have made, she thought, a much more suitable -husband for her than she had found in Lydgate. No notion could have -been falser than this, for Rosamonds discontent in her marriage was -due to the conditions of marriage itself, to its demand for -self-suppression and tolerance, and not to the nature of her husband; -but the easy conception of an unreal Better had a sentimental charm -which diverted her ennui. She constructed a little romance which was to -vary the flatness of her life: Will Ladislaw was always to be a -bachelor and live near her, always to be at her command, and have an -understood though never fully expressed passion for her, which would be -sending out lambent flames every now and then in interesting scenes. -His departure had been a proportionate disappointment, and had sadly -increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but at first she had the -alternative dream of pleasures in store from her intercourse with the -family at Quallingham. Since then the troubles of her married life had -deepened, and the absence of other relief encouraged her regretful -rumination over that thin romance which she had once fed on. Men and -women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague -uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, and -oftener still for a mighty love. Will Ladislaw had written chatty -letters, half to her and half to Lydgate, and she had replied: their -separation, she felt, was not likely to be final, and the change she -now most longed for was that Lydgate should go to live in London; -everything would be agreeable in London; and she had set to work with -quiet determination to win this result, when there came a sudden, -delightful promise which inspirited her. - -It came shortly before the memorable meeting at the town-hall, and was -nothing less than a letter from Will Ladislaw to Lydgate, which turned -indeed chiefly on his new interest in plans of colonization, but -mentioned incidentally, that he might find it necessary to pay a visit -to Middlemarch within the next few weeksa very pleasant necessity, he -said, almost as good as holidays to a schoolboy. He hoped there was his -old place on the rug, and a great deal of music in store for him. But -he was quite uncertain as to the time. While Lydgate was reading the -letter to Rosamond, her face looked like a reviving flowerit grew -prettier and more blooming. There was nothing unendurable now: the -debts were paid, Mr. Ladislaw was coming, and Lydgate would be -persuaded to leave Middlemarch and settle in London, which was so -different from a provincial town. - -That was a bright bit of morning. But soon the sky became black over -poor Rosamond. The presence of a new gloom in her husband, about which -he was entirely reserved towards herfor he dreaded to expose his -lacerated feeling to her neutrality and misconceptionsoon received a -painfully strange explanation, alien to all her previous notions of -what could affect her happiness. In the new gayety of her spirits, -thinking that Lydgate had merely a worse fit of moodiness than usual, -causing him to leave her remarks unanswered, and evidently to keep out -of her way as much as possible, she chose, a few days after the -meeting, and without speaking to him on the subject, to send out notes -of invitation for a small evening party, feeling convinced that this -was a judicious step, since people seemed to have been keeping aloof -from them, and wanted restoring to the old habit of intercourse. When -the invitations had been accepted, she would tell Lydgate, and give him -a wise admonition as to how a medical man should behave to his -neighbors; for Rosamond had the gravest little airs possible about -other peoples duties. But all the invitations were declined, and the -last answer came into Lydgates hands. - -This is Chichelys scratch. What is he writing to you about? said -Lydgate, wonderingly, as he handed the note to her. She was obliged to -let him see it, and, looking at her severely, he said - -Why on earth have you been sending out invitations without telling me, -Rosamond? I beg, I insist that you will not invite any one to this -house. I suppose you have been inviting others, and they have refused -too. She said nothing. - -Do you hear me? thundered Lydgate. - -Yes, certainly I hear you, said Rosamond, turning her head aside with -the movement of a graceful long-necked bird. - -Lydgate tossed his head without any grace and walked out of the room, -feeling himself dangerous. Rosamonds thought was, that he was getting -more and more unbearablenot that there was any new special reason for -this peremptoriness. His indisposition to tell her anything in which he -was sure beforehand that she would not be interested was growing into -an unreflecting habit, and she was in ignorance of everything connected -with the thousand pounds except that the loan had come from her uncle -Bulstrode. Lydgates odious humors and their neighbors apparent -avoidance of them had an unaccountable date for her in their relief -from money difficulties. If the invitations had been accepted she would -have gone to invite her mamma and the rest, whom she had seen nothing -of for several days; and she now put on her bonnet to go and inquire -what had become of them all, suddenly feeling as if there were a -conspiracy to leave her in isolation with a husband disposed to offend -everybody. It was after the dinner hour, and she found her father and -mother seated together alone in the drawing-room. They greeted her with -sad looks, saying Well, my dear! and no more. She had never seen her -father look so downcast; and seating herself near him she said - -Is there anything the matter, papa? - -He did not answer, but Mrs. Vincy said, Oh, my dear, have you heard -nothing? It wont be long before it reaches you. - -Is it anything about Tertius? said Rosamond, turning pale. The idea -of trouble immediately connected itself with what had been -unaccountable to her in him. - -Oh, my dear, yes. To think of your marrying into this trouble. Debt -was bad enough, but this will be worse. - -Stay, stay, Lucy, said Mr. Vincy. Have you heard nothing about your -uncle Bulstrode, Rosamond? - -No, papa, said the poor thing, feeling as if trouble were not -anything she had before experienced, but some invisible power with an -iron grasp that made her soul faint within her. - -Her father told her everything, saying at the end, Its better for you -to know, my dear. I think Lydgate must leave the town. Things have gone -against him. I dare say he couldnt help it. I dont accuse him of any -harm, said Mr. Vincy. He had always before been disposed to find the -utmost fault with Lydgate. - -The shock to Rosamond was terrible. It seemed to her that no lot could -be so cruelly hard as hers to have married a man who had become the -centre of infamous suspicions. In many cases it is inevitable that the -shame is felt to be the worst part of crime; and it would have required -a great deal of disentangling reflection, such as had never entered -into Rosamonds life, for her in these moments to feel that her trouble -was less than if her husband had been certainly known to have done -something criminal. All the shame seemed to be there. And she had -innocently married this man with the belief that he and his family were -a glory to her! She showed her usual reticence to her parents, and only -said, that if Lydgate had done as she wished he would have left -Middlemarch long ago. - -She bears it beyond anything, said her mother when she was gone. - -Ah, thank God! said Mr. Vincy, who was much broken down. - -But Rosamond went home with a sense of justified repugnance towards her -husband. What had he really donehow had he really acted? She did not -know. Why had he not told her everything? He did not speak to her on -the subject, and of course she could not speak to him. It came into her -mind once that she would ask her father to let her go home again; but -dwelling on that prospect made it seem utter dreariness to her: a -married woman gone back to live with her parentslife seemed to have no -meaning for her in such a position: she could not contemplate herself -in it. - -The next two days Lydgate observed a change in her, and believed that -she had heard the bad news. Would she speak to him about it, or would -she go on forever in the silence which seemed to imply that she -believed him guilty? We must remember that he was in a morbid state of -mind, in which almost all contact was pain. Certainly Rosamond in this -case had equal reason to complain of reserve and want of confidence on -his part; but in the bitterness of his soul he excused himself;was he -not justified in shrinking from the task of telling her, since now she -knew the truth she had no impulse to speak to him? But a deeper-lying -consciousness that he was in fault made him restless, and the silence -between them became intolerable to him; it was as if they were both -adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other. - -He thought, I am a fool. Havent I given up expecting anything? I have -married care, not help. And that evening he said - -Rosamond, have you heard anything that distresses you? - -Yes, she answered, laying down her work, which she had been carrying -on with a languid semi-consciousness, most unlike her usual self. - -What have you heard? - -Everything, I suppose. Papa told me. - -That people think me disgraced? - -Yes, said Rosamond, faintly, beginning to sew again automatically. - -There was silence. Lydgate thought, If she has any trust in meany -notion of what I am, she ought to speak now and say that she does not -believe I have deserved disgrace. - -But Rosamond on her side went on moving her fingers languidly. Whatever -was to be said on the subject she expected to come from Tertius. What -did she know? And if he were innocent of any wrong, why did he not do -something to clear himself? - -This silence of hers brought a new rush of gall to that bitter mood in -which Lydgate had been saying to himself that nobody believed in -himeven Farebrother had not come forward. He had begun to question her -with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog -which had gathered between them, but he felt his resolution checked by -despairing resentment. Even this trouble, like the rest, she seemed to -regard as if it were hers alone. He was always to her a being apart, -doing what she objected to. He started from his chair with an angry -impulse, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, walked up and down the -room. There was an underlying consciousness all the while that he -should have to master this anger, and tell her everything, and convince -her of the facts. For he had almost learned the lesson that he must -bend himself to her nature, and that because she came short in her -sympathy, he must give the more. Soon he recurred to his intention of -opening himself: the occasion must not be lost. If he could bring her -to feel with some solemnity that here was a slander which must be met -and not run away from, and that the whole trouble had come out of his -desperate want of money, it would be a moment for urging powerfully on -her that they should be one in the resolve to do with as little money -as possible, so that they might weather the bad time and keep -themselves independent. He would mention the definite measures which he -desired to take, and win her to a willing spirit. He was bound to try -thisand what else was there for him to do? - -He did not know how long he had been walking uneasily backwards and -forwards, but Rosamond felt that it was long, and wished that he would -sit down. She too had begun to think this an opportunity for urging on -Tertius what he ought to do. Whatever might be the truth about all this -misery, there was one dread which asserted itself. - -Lydgate at last seated himself, not in his usual chair, but in one -nearer to Rosamond, leaning aside in it towards her, and looking at her -gravely before he reopened the sad subject. He had conquered himself so -far, and was about to speak with a sense of solemnity, as on an -occasion which was not to be repeated. He had even opened his lips, -when Rosamond, letting her hands fall, looked at him and said - -Surely, Tertius - -Well? - -Surely now at last you have given up the idea of staying in -Middlemarch. I cannot go on living here. Let us go to London. Papa, and -every one else, says you had better go. Whatever misery I have to put -up with, it will be easier away from here. - -Lydgate felt miserably jarred. Instead of that critical outpouring for -which he had prepared himself with effort, here was the old round to be -gone through again. He could not bear it. With a quick change of -countenance he rose and went out of the room. - -Perhaps if he had been strong enough to persist in his determination to -be the more because she was less, that evening might have had a better -issue. If his energy could have borne down that check, he might still -have wrought on Rosamonds vision and will. We cannot be sure that any -natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will resist this effect from a -more massive being than their own. They may be taken by storm and for -the moment converted, becoming part of the soul which enwraps them in -the ardor of its movement. But poor Lydgate had a throbbing pain within -him, and his energy had fallen short of its task. - -The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far off as -ever; nay, it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort. -They lived on from day to day with their thoughts still apart, Lydgate -going about what work he had in a mood of despair, and Rosamond -feeling, with some justification, that he was behaving cruelly. It was -of no use to say anything to Tertius; but when Will Ladislaw came, she -was determined to tell him everything. In spite of her general -reticence, she needed some one who would recognize her wrongs. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVI. - -To mercy, pity, peace, and love - All pray in their distress, -And to these virtues of delight, - Return their thankfulness. -. . . . . . -For Mercy has a human heart, - Pity a human face; -And Love, the human form divine; - And Peace, the human dress. -WILLIAM BLAKE: _Songs of Innocence_. - - -Some days later, Lydgate was riding to Lowick Manor, in consequence of -a summons from Dorothea. The summons had not been unexpected, since it -had followed a letter from Mr. Bulstrode, in which he stated that he -had resumed his arrangements for quitting Middlemarch, and must remind -Lydgate of his previous communications about the Hospital, to the -purport of which he still adhered. It had been his duty, before taking -further steps, to reopen the subject with Mrs. Casaubon, who now -wished, as before, to discuss the question with Lydgate. Your views -may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode; but, in -that case also, it is desirable that you should lay them before her. - -Dorothea awaited his arrival with eager interest. Though, in deference -to her masculine advisers, she had refrained from what Sir James had -called interfering in this Bulstrode business, the hardship of -Lydgates position was continually in her mind, and when Bulstrode -applied to her again about the hospital, she felt that the opportunity -was come to her which she had been hindered from hastening. In her -luxurious home, wandering under the boughs of her own great trees, her -thought was going out over the lot of others, and her emotions were -imprisoned. The idea of some active good within her reach, haunted her -like a passion, and anothers need having once come to her as a -distinct image, preoccupied her desire with the yearning to give -relief, and made her own ease tasteless. She was full of confident hope -about this interview with Lydgate, never heeding what was said of his -personal reserve; never heeding that she was a very young woman. -Nothing could have seemed more irrelevant to Dorothea than insistence -on her youth and sex when she was moved to show her human fellowship. - -As she sat waiting in the library, she could do nothing but live -through again all the past scenes which had brought Lydgate into her -memories. They all owed their significance to her marriage and its -troublesbut no; there were two occasions in which the image of Lydgate -had come painfully in connection with his wife and some one else. The -pain had been allayed for Dorothea, but it had left in her an awakened -conjecture as to what Lydgates marriage might be to him, a -susceptibility to the slightest hint about Mrs. Lydgate. These thoughts -were like a drama to her, and made her eyes bright, and gave an -attitude of suspense to her whole frame, though she was only looking -out from the brown library on to the turf and the bright green buds -which stood in relief against the dark evergreens. - -When Lydgate came in, she was almost shocked at the change in his face, -which was strikingly perceptible to her who had not seen him for two -months. It was not the change of emaciation, but that effect which even -young faces will very soon show from the persistent presence of -resentment and despondency. Her cordial look, when she put out her hand -to him, softened his expression, but only with melancholy. - -I have wished very much to see you for a long while, Mr. Lydgate, -said Dorothea when they were seated opposite each other; but I put off -asking you to come until Mr. Bulstrode applied to me again about the -Hospital. I know that the advantage of keeping the management of it -separate from that of the Infirmary depends on you, or, at least, on -the good which you are encouraged to hope for from having it under your -control. And I am sure you will not refuse to tell me exactly what you -think. - -You want to decide whether you should give a generous support to the -Hospital, said Lydgate. I cannot conscientiously advise you to do it -in dependence on any activity of mine. I may be obliged to leave the -town. - -He spoke curtly, feeling the ache of despair as to his being able to -carry out any purpose that Rosamond had set her mind against. - -Not because there is no one to believe in you? said Dorothea, pouring -out her words in clearness from a full heart. I know the unhappy -mistakes about you. I knew them from the first moment to be mistakes. -You have never done anything vile. You would not do anything -dishonorable. - -It was the first assurance of belief in him that had fallen on -Lydgates ears. He drew a deep breath, and said, Thank you. He could -say no more: it was something very new and strange in his life that -these few words of trust from a woman should be so much to him. - -I beseech you to tell me how everything was, said Dorothea, -fearlessly. I am sure that the truth would clear you. - -Lydgate started up from his chair and went towards the window, -forgetting where he was. He had so often gone over in his mind the -possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances -that would tell, perhaps unfairly, against Bulstrode, and had so often -decided against ithe had so often said to himself that his assertions -would not change peoples impressionsthat Dorotheas words sounded -like a temptation to do something which in his soberness he had -pronounced to be unreasonable. - -Tell me, pray, said Dorothea, with simple earnestness; then we can -consult together. It is wicked to let people think evil of any one -falsely, when it can be hindered. - -Lydgate turned, remembering where he was, and saw Dorotheas face -looking up at him with a sweet trustful gravity. The presence of a -noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes -the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, -quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in -the wholeness of our character. That influence was beginning to act on -Lydgate, who had for many days been seeing all life as one who is -dragged and struggling amid the throng. He sat down again, and felt -that he was recovering his old self in the consciousness that he was -with one who believed in it. - -I dont want, he said, to bear hard on Bulstrode, who has lent me -money of which I was in needthough I would rather have gone without it -now. He is hunted down and miserable, and has only a poor thread of -life in him. But I should like to tell you everything. It will be a -comfort to me to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and where I -shall not seem to be offering assertions of my own honesty. You will -feel what is fair to another, as you feel what is fair to me. - -Do trust me, said Dorothea; I will not repeat anything without your -leave. But at the very least, I could say that you have made all the -circumstances clear to me, and that I know you are not in any way -guilty. Mr. Farebrother would believe me, and my uncle, and Sir James -Chettam. Nay, there are persons in Middlemarch to whom I could go; -although they dont know much of me, they would believe me. They would -know that I could have no other motive than truth and justice. I would -take any pains to clear you. I have very little to do. There is nothing -better that I can do in the world. - -Dorotheas voice, as she made this childlike picture of what she would -do, might have been almost taken as a proof that she could do it -effectively. The searching tenderness of her womans tones seemed made -for a defence against ready accusers. Lydgate did not stay to think -that she was Quixotic: he gave himself up, for the first time in his -life, to the exquisite sense of leaning entirely on a generous -sympathy, without any check of proud reserve. And he told her -everything, from the time when, under the pressure of his difficulties, -he unwillingly made his first application to Bulstrode; gradually, in -the relief of speaking, getting into a more thorough utterance of what -had gone on in his mindentering fully into the fact that his treatment -of the patient was opposed to the dominant practice, into his doubts at -the last, his ideal of medical duty, and his uneasy consciousness that -the acceptance of the money had made some difference in his private -inclination and professional behavior, though not in his fulfilment of -any publicly recognized obligation. - -It has come to my knowledge since, he added, that Hawley sent some -one to examine the housekeeper at Stone Court, and she said that she -gave the patient all the opium in the phial I left, as well as a good -deal of brandy. But that would not have been opposed to ordinary -prescriptions, even of first-rate men. The suspicions against me had no -hold there: they are grounded on the knowledge that I took money, that -Bulstrode had strong motives for wishing the man to die, and that he -gave me the money as a bribe to concur in some malpractices or other -against the patientthat in any case I accepted a bribe to hold my -tongue. They are just the suspicions that cling the most obstinately, -because they lie in peoples inclination and can never be disproved. -How my orders came to be disobeyed is a question to which I dont know -the answer. It is still possible that Bulstrode was innocent of any -criminal intentioneven possible that he had nothing to do with the -disobedience, and merely abstained from mentioning it. But all that has -nothing to do with the public belief. It is one of those cases on which -a man is condemned on the ground of his characterit is believed that -he has committed a crime in some undefined way, because he had the -motive for doing it; and Bulstrodes character has enveloped me, -because I took his money. I am simply blightedlike a damaged ear of -cornthe business is done and cant be undone. - -Oh, it is hard! said Dorothea. I understand the difficulty there is -in your vindicating yourself. And that all this should have come to you -who had meant to lead a higher life than the common, and to find out -better waysI cannot bear to rest in this as unchangeable. I know you -meant that. I remember what you said to me when you first spoke to me -about the hospital. There is no sorrow I have thought more about than -thatto love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail. - -Yes, said Lydgate, feeling that here he had found room for the full -meaning of his grief. I had some ambition. I meant everything to be -different with me. I thought I had more strength and mastery. But the -most terrible obstacles are such as nobody can see except oneself. - -Suppose, said Dorothea, meditatively,suppose we kept on the -Hospital according to the present plan, and you stayed here though only -with the friendship and support of a few, the evil feeling towards you -would gradually die out; there would come opportunities in which people -would be forced to acknowledge that they had been unjust to you, -because they would see that your purposes were pure. You may still win -a great fame like the Louis and Laennec I have heard you speak of, and -we shall all be proud of you, she ended, with a smile. - -That might do if I had my old trust in myself, said Lydgate, -mournfully. Nothing galls me more than the notion of turning round and -running away before this slander, leaving it unchecked behind me. -Still, I cant ask any one to put a great deal of money into a plan -which depends on me. - -It would be quite worth my while, said Dorothea, simply. Only think. -I am very uncomfortable with my money, because they tell me I have too -little for any great scheme of the sort I like best, and yet I have too -much. I dont know what to do. I have seven hundred a-year of my own -fortune, and nineteen hundred a-year that Mr. Casaubon left me, and -between three and four thousand of ready money in the bank. I wished to -raise money and pay it off gradually out of my income which I dont -want, to buy land with and found a village which should be a school of -industry; but Sir James and my uncle have convinced me that the risk -would be too great. So you see that what I should most rejoice at would -be to have something good to do with my money: I should like it to make -other peoples lives better to them. It makes me very uneasycoming all -to me who dont want it. - -A smile broke through the gloom of Lydgates face. The childlike -grave-eyed earnestness with which Dorothea said all this was -irresistibleblent into an adorable whole with her ready understanding -of high experience. (Of lower experience such as plays a great part in -the world, poor Mrs. Casaubon had a very blurred shortsighted -knowledge, little helped by her imagination.) But she took the smile as -encouragement of her plan. - -I think you see now that you spoke too scrupulously, she said, in a -tone of persuasion. The hospital would be one good; and making your -life quite whole and well again would be another. - -Lydgates smile had died away. You have the goodness as well as the -money to do all that; if it could be done, he said. But - -He hesitated a little while, looking vaguely towards the window; and -she sat in silent expectation. At last he turned towards her and said -impetuously - -Why should I not tell you?you know what sort of bond marriage is. You -will understand everything. - -Dorothea felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Had he that sorrow -too? But she feared to say any word, and he went on immediately. - -It is impossible for me now to do anythingto take any step without -considering my wifes happiness. The thing that I might like to do if I -were alone, is become impossible to me. I cant see her miserable. She -married me without knowing what she was going into, and it might have -been better for her if she had not married me. - -I know, I knowyou could not give her pain, if you were not obliged to -do it, said Dorothea, with keen memory of her own life. - -And she has set her mind against staying. She wishes to go. The -troubles she has had here have wearied her, said Lydgate, breaking off -again, lest he should say too much. - -But when she saw the good that might come of staying said Dorothea, -remonstrantly, looking at Lydgate as if he had forgotten the reasons -which had just been considered. He did not speak immediately. - -She would not see it, he said at last, curtly, feeling at first that -this statement must do without explanation. And, indeed, I have lost -all spirit about carrying on my life here. He paused a moment and -then, following the impulse to let Dorothea see deeper into the -difficulty of his life, he said, The fact is, this trouble has come -upon her confusedly. We have not been able to speak to each other about -it. I am not sure what is in her mind about it: she may fear that I -have really done something base. It is my fault; I ought to be more -open. But I have been suffering cruelly. - -May I go and see her? said Dorothea, eagerly. Would she accept my -sympathy? I would tell her that you have not been blamable before any -ones judgment but your own. I would tell her that you shall be cleared -in every fair mind. I would cheer her heart. Will you ask her if I may -go to see her? I did see her once. - -I am sure you may, said Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some -hope. She would feel honoredcheered, I think, by the proof that you -at least have some respect for me. I will not speak to her about your -comingthat she may not connect it with my wishes at all. I know very -well that I ought not to have left anything to be told her by others, -but - -He broke off, and there was a moments silence. Dorothea refrained from -saying what was in her mindhow well she knew that there might be -invisible barriers to speech between husband and wife. This was a point -on which even sympathy might make a wound. She returned to the more -outward aspect of Lydgates position, saying cheerfully - -And if Mrs. Lydgate knew that there were friends who would believe in -you and support you, she might then be glad that you should stay in -your place and recover your hopesand do what you meant to do. Perhaps -then you would see that it was right to agree with what I proposed -about your continuing at the Hospital. Surely you would, if you still -have faith in it as a means of making your knowledge useful? - -Lydgate did not answer, and she saw that he was debating with himself. - -You need not decide immediately, she said, gently. A few days hence -it will be early enough for me to send my answer to Mr. Bulstrode. - -Lydgate still waited, but at last turned to speak in his most decisive -tones. - -No; I prefer that there should be no interval left for wavering. I am -no longer sure enough of myselfI mean of what it would be possible for -me to do under the changed circumstances of my life. It would be -dishonorable to let others engage themselves to anything serious in -dependence on me. I might be obliged to go away after all; I see little -chance of anything else. The whole thing is too problematic; I cannot -consent to be the cause of your goodness being wasted. Nolet the new -Hospital be joined with the old Infirmary, and everything go on as it -might have done if I had never come. I have kept a valuable register -since I have been there; I shall send it to a man who will make use of -it, he ended bitterly. I can think of nothing for a long while but -getting an income. - -It hurts me very much to hear you speak so hopelessly, said Dorothea. -It would be a happiness to your friends, who believe in your future, -in your power to do great things, if you would let them save you from -that. Think how much money I have; it would be like taking a burthen -from me if you took some of it every year till you got free from this -fettering want of income. Why should not people do these things? It is -so difficult to make shares at all even. This is one way. - -God bless you, Mrs. Casaubon! said Lydgate, rising as if with the -same impulse that made his words energetic, and resting his arm on the -back of the great leather chair he had been sitting in. It is good -that you should have such feelings. But I am not the man who ought to -allow himself to benefit by them. I have not given guarantees enough. I -must not at least sink into the degradation of being pensioned for work -that I never achieved. It is very clear to me that I must not count on -anything else than getting away from Middlemarch as soon as I can -manage it. I should not be able for a long while, at the very best, to -get an income here, andand it is easier to make necessary changes in a -new place. I must do as other men do, and think what will please the -world and bring in money; look for a little opening in the London -crowd, and push myself; set up in a watering-place, or go to some -southern town where there are plenty of idle English, and get myself -puffed,that is the sort of shell I must creep into and try to keep my -soul alive in. - -Now that is not brave, said Dorothea,to give up the fight. - -No, it is not brave, said Lydgate, but if a man is afraid of -creeping paralysis? Then, in another tone, Yet you have made a great -difference in my courage by believing in me. Everything seems more -bearable since I have talked to you; and if you can clear me in a few -other minds, especially in Farebrothers, I shall be deeply grateful. -The point I wish you not to mention is the fact of disobedience to my -orders. That would soon get distorted. After all, there is no evidence -for me but peoples opinion of me beforehand. You can only repeat my -own report of myself. - -Mr. Farebrother will believeothers will believe, said Dorothea. I -can say of you what will make it stupidity to suppose that you would be -bribed to do a wickedness. - -I dont know, said Lydgate, with something like a groan in his voice. -I have not taken a bribe yet. But there is a pale shade of bribery -which is sometimes called prosperity. You will do me another great -kindness, then, and come to see my wife? - -Yes, I will. I remember how pretty she is, said Dorothea, into whose -mind every impression about Rosamond had cut deep. I hope she will -like me. - -As Lydgate rode away, he thought, This young creature has a heart -large enough for the Virgin Mary. She evidently thinks nothing of her -own future, and would pledge away half her income at once, as if she -wanted nothing for herself but a chair to sit in from which she can -look down with those clear eyes at the poor mortals who pray to her. -She seems to have what I never saw in any woman beforea fountain of -friendship towards mena man can make a friend of her. Casaubon must -have raised some heroic hallucination in her. I wonder if she could -have any other sort of passion for a man? Ladislaw?there was certainly -an unusual feeling between them. And Casaubon must have had a notion of -it. Wellher love might help a man more than her money. - -Dorothea on her side had immediately formed a plan of relieving Lydgate -from his obligation to Bulstrode, which she felt sure was a part, -though small, of the galling pressure he had to bear. She sat down at -once under the inspiration of their interview, and wrote a brief note, -in which she pleaded that she had more claim than Mr. Bulstrode had to -the satisfaction of providing the money which had been serviceable to -Lydgatethat it would be unkind in Lydgate not to grant her the -position of being his helper in this small matter, the favor being -entirely to her who had so little that was plainly marked out for her -to do with her superfluous money. He might call her a creditor or by -any other name if it did but imply that he granted her request. She -enclosed a check for a thousand pounds, and determined to take the -letter with her the next day when she went to see Rosamond. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVII. - -And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, -To mark the full-fraught man and best indued -With some suspicion. -_Henry V_. - - -The next day Lydgate had to go to Brassing, and told Rosamond that he -should be away until the evening. Of late she had never gone beyond her -own house and garden, except to church, and once to see her papa, to -whom she said, If Tertius goes away, you will help us to move, will -you not, papa? I suppose we shall have very little money. I am sure I -hope some one will help us. And Mr. Vincy had said, Yes, child, I -dont mind a hundred or two. I can see the end of that. With these -exceptions she had sat at home in languid melancholy and suspense, -fixing her mind on Will Ladislaws coming as the one point of hope and -interest, and associating this with some new urgency on Lydgate to make -immediate arrangements for leaving Middlemarch and going to London, -till she felt assured that the coming would be a potent cause of the -going, without at all seeing how. This way of establishing sequences is -too common to be fairly regarded as a peculiar folly in Rosamond. And -it is precisely this sort of sequence which causes the greatest shock -when it is sundered: for to see how an effect may be produced is often -to see possible missings and checks; but to see nothing except the -desirable cause, and close upon it the desirable effect, rids us of -doubt and makes our minds strongly intuitive. That was the process -going on in poor Rosamond, while she arranged all objects around her -with the same nicety as ever, only with more slownessor sat down to -the piano, meaning to play, and then desisting, yet lingering on the -music stool with her white fingers suspended on the wooden front, and -looking before her in dreamy ennui. Her melancholy had become so marked -that Lydgate felt a strange timidity before it, as a perpetual silent -reproach, and the strong man, mastered by his keen sensibilities -towards this fair fragile creature whose life he seemed somehow to have -bruised, shrank from her look, and sometimes started at her approach, -fear of her and fear for her rushing in only the more forcibly after it -had been momentarily expelled by exasperation. - -But this morning Rosamond descended from her room upstairswhere she -sometimes sat the whole day when Lydgate was outequipped for a walk in -the town. She had a letter to posta letter addressed to Mr. Ladislaw -and written with charming discretion, but intended to hasten his -arrival by a hint of trouble. The servant-maid, their sole -house-servant now, noticed her coming down-stairs in her walking dress, -and thought there never did anybody look so pretty in a bonnet poor -thing. - -Meanwhile Dorotheas mind was filled with her project of going to -Rosamond, and with the many thoughts, both of the past and the probable -future, which gathered round the idea of that visit. Until yesterday -when Lydgate had opened to her a glimpse of some trouble in his married -life, the image of Mrs. Lydgate had always been associated for her with -that of Will Ladislaw. Even in her most uneasy momentseven when she -had been agitated by Mrs. Cadwalladers painfully graphic report of -gossipher effort, nay, her strongest impulsive prompting, had been -towards the vindication of Will from any sullying surmises; and when, -in her meeting with him afterwards, she had at first interpreted his -words as a probable allusion to a feeling towards Mrs. Lydgate which he -was determined to cut himself off from indulging, she had had a quick, -sad, excusing vision of the charm there might be in his constant -opportunities of companionship with that fair creature, who most likely -shared his other tastes as she evidently did his delight in music. But -there had followed his parting wordsthe few passionate words in which -he had implied that she herself was the object of whom his love held -him in dread, that it was his love for her only which he was resolved -not to declare but to carry away into banishment. From the time of that -parting, Dorothea, believing in Wills love for her, believing with a -proud delight in his delicate sense of honor and his determination that -no one should impeach him justly, felt her heart quite at rest as to -the regard he might have for Mrs. Lydgate. She was sure that the regard -was blameless. - -There are natures in which, if they love us, we are conscious of having -a sort of baptism and consecration: they bind us over to rectitude and -purity by their pure belief about us; and our sins become that worst -kind of sacrilege which tears down the invisible altar of trust. If -you are not good, none is goodthose little words may give a terrific -meaning to responsibility, may hold a vitriolic intensity for remorse. - -Dorotheas nature was of that kind: her own passionate faults lay along -the easily counted open channels of her ardent character; and while she -was full of pity for the visible mistakes of others, she had not yet -any material within her experience for subtle constructions and -suspicions of hidden wrong. But that simplicity of hers, holding up an -ideal for others in her believing conception of them, was one of the -great powers of her womanhood. And it had from the first acted strongly -on Will Ladislaw. He felt, when he parted from her, that the brief -words by which he had tried to convey to her his feeling about herself -and the division which her fortune made between them, would only profit -by their brevity when Dorothea had to interpret them: he felt that in -her mind he had found his highest estimate. - -And he was right there. In the months since their parting Dorothea had -felt a delicious though sad repose in their relation to each other, as -one which was inwardly whole and without blemish. She had an active -force of antagonism within her, when the antagonism turned on the -defence either of plans or persons that she believed in; and the wrongs -which she felt that Will had received from her husband, and the -external conditions which to others were grounds for slighting him, -only gave the more tenacity to her affection and admiring judgment. And -now with the disclosures about Bulstrode had come another fact -affecting Wills social position, which roused afresh Dorotheas inward -resistance to what was said about him in that part of her world which -lay within park palings. - -Young Ladislaw the grandson of a thieving Jew pawnbroker was a phrase -which had entered emphatically into the dialogues about the Bulstrode -business, at Lowick, Tipton, and Freshitt, and was a worse kind of -placard on poor Wills back than the Italian with white mice. Upright -Sir James Chettam was convinced that his own satisfaction was righteous -when he thought with some complacency that here was an added league to -that mountainous distance between Ladislaw and Dorothea, which enabled -him to dismiss any anxiety in that direction as too absurd. And perhaps -there had been some pleasure in pointing Mr. Brookes attention to this -ugly bit of Ladislaws genealogy, as a fresh candle for him to see his -own folly by. Dorothea had observed the animus with which Wills part -in the painful story had been recalled more than once; but she had -uttered no word, being checked now, as she had not been formerly in -speaking of Will, by the consciousness of a deeper relation between -them which must always remain in consecrated secrecy. But her silence -shrouded her resistant emotion into a more thorough glow; and this -misfortune in Wills lot which, it seemed, others were wishing to fling -at his back as an opprobrium, only gave something more of enthusiasm to -her clinging thought. - -She entertained no visions of their ever coming into nearer union, and -yet she had taken no posture of renunciation. She had accepted her -whole relation to Will very simply as part of her marriage sorrows, and -would have thought it very sinful in her to keep up an inward wail -because she was not completely happy, being rather disposed to dwell on -the superfluities of her lot. She could bear that the chief pleasures -of her tenderness should lie in memory, and the idea of marriage came -to her solely as a repulsive proposition from some suitor of whom she -at present knew nothing, but whose merits, as seen by her friends, -would be a source of torment to her:somebody who will manage your -property for you, my dear, was Mr. Brookes attractive suggestion of -suitable characteristics. I should like to manage it myself, if I knew -what to do with it, said Dorothea. Noshe adhered to her declaration -that she would never be married again, and in the long valley of her -life which looked so flat and empty of waymarks, guidance would come as -she walked along the road, and saw her fellow-passengers by the way. - -This habitual state of feeling about Will Ladislaw had been strong in -all her waking hours since she had proposed to pay a visit to Mrs. -Lydgate, making a sort of background against which she saw Rosamonds -figure presented to her without hindrances to her interest and -compassion. There was evidently some mental separation, some barrier to -complete confidence which had arisen between this wife and the husband -who had yet made her happiness a law to him. That was a trouble which -no third person must directly touch. But Dorothea thought with deep -pity of the loneliness which must have come upon Rosamond from the -suspicions cast on her husband; and there would surely be help in the -manifestation of respect for Lydgate and sympathy with her. - -I shall talk to her about her husband, thought Dorothea, as she was -being driven towards the town. The clear spring morning, the scent of -the moist earth, the fresh leaves just showing their creased-up wealth -of greenery from out their half-opened sheaths, seemed part of the -cheerfulness she was feeling from a long conversation with Mr. -Farebrother, who had joyfully accepted the justifying explanation of -Lydgates conduct. I shall take Mrs. Lydgate good news, and perhaps -she will like to talk to me and make a friend of me. - -Dorothea had another errand in Lowick Gate: it was about a new -fine-toned bell for the school-house, and as she had to get out of her -carriage very near to Lydgates, she walked thither across the street, -having told the coachman to wait for some packages. The street door was -open, and the servant was taking the opportunity of looking out at the -carriage which was pausing within sight when it became apparent to her -that the lady who belonged to it was coming towards her. - -Is Mrs. Lydgate at home? said Dorothea. - -Im not sure, my lady; Ill see, if youll please to walk in, said -Martha, a little confused on the score of her kitchen apron, but -collected enough to be sure that mum was not the right title for this -queenly young widow with a carriage and pair. Will you please to walk -in, and Ill go and see. - -Say that I am Mrs. Casaubon, said Dorothea, as Martha moved forward -intending to show her into the drawing-room and then to go up-stairs to -see if Rosamond had returned from her walk. - -They crossed the broader part of the entrance-hall, and turned up the -passage which led to the garden. The drawing-room door was unlatched, -and Martha, pushing it without looking into the room, waited for Mrs. -Casaubon to enter and then turned away, the door having swung open and -swung back again without noise. - -Dorothea had less of outward vision than usual this morning, being -filled with images of things as they had been and were going to be. She -found herself on the other side of the door without seeing anything -remarkable, but immediately she heard a voice speaking in low tones -which startled her as with a sense of dreaming in daylight, and -advancing unconsciously a step or two beyond the projecting slab of a -bookcase, she saw, in the terrible illumination of a certainty which -filled up all outlines, something which made her pause, motionless, -without self-possession enough to speak. - -Seated with his back towards her on a sofa which stood against the wall -on a line with the door by which she had entered, she saw Will -Ladislaw: close by him and turned towards him with a flushed -tearfulness which gave a new brilliancy to her face sat Rosamond, her -bonnet hanging back, while Will leaning towards her clasped both her -upraised hands in his and spoke with low-toned fervor. - -Rosamond in her agitated absorption had not noticed the silently -advancing figure; but when Dorothea, after the first immeasurable -instant of this vision, moved confusedly backward and found herself -impeded by some piece of furniture, Rosamond was suddenly aware of her -presence, and with a spasmodic movement snatched away her hands and -rose, looking at Dorothea who was necessarily arrested. Will Ladislaw, -starting up, looked round also, and meeting Dorotheas eyes with a new -lightning in them, seemed changing to marble. But she immediately -turned them away from him to Rosamond and said in a firm voice - -Excuse me, Mrs. Lydgate, the servant did not know that you were here. -I called to deliver an important letter for Mr. Lydgate, which I wished -to put into your own hands. - -She laid down the letter on the small table which had checked her -retreat, and then including Rosamond and Will in one distant glance and -bow, she went quickly out of the room, meeting in the passage the -surprised Martha, who said she was sorry the mistress was not at home, -and then showed the strange lady out with an inward reflection that -grand people were probably more impatient than others. - -Dorothea walked across the street with her most elastic step and was -quickly in her carriage again. - -Drive on to Freshitt Hall, she said to the coachman, and any one -looking at her might have thought that though she was paler than usual -she was never animated by a more self-possessed energy. And that was -really her experience. It was as if she had drunk a great draught of -scorn that stimulated her beyond the susceptibility to other feelings. -She had seen something so far below her belief, that her emotions -rushed back from it and made an excited throng without an object. She -needed something active to turn her excitement out upon. She felt power -to walk and work for a day, without meat or drink. And she would carry -out the purpose with which she had started in the morning, of going to -Freshitt and Tipton to tell Sir James and her uncle all that she wished -them to know about Lydgate, whose married loneliness under his trial -now presented itself to her with new significance, and made her more -ardent in readiness to be his champion. She had never felt anything -like this triumphant power of indignation in the struggle of her -married life, in which there had always been a quickly subduing pang; -and she took it as a sign of new strength. - -Dodo, how very bright your eyes are! said Celia, when Sir James was -gone out of the room. And you dont see anything you look at, Arthur -or anything. You are going to do something uncomfortable, I know. Is it -all about Mr. Lydgate, or has something else happened? Celia had been -used to watch her sister with expectation. - -Yes, dear, a great many things have happened, said Dodo, in her full -tones. - -I wonder what, said Celia, folding her arms cozily and leaning -forward upon them. - -Oh, all the troubles of all people on the face of the earth, said -Dorothea, lifting her arms to the back of her head. - -Dear me, Dodo, are you going to have a scheme for them? said Celia, a -little uneasy at this Hamlet-like raving. - -But Sir James came in again, ready to accompany Dorothea to the Grange, -and she finished her expedition well, not swerving in her resolution -until she descended at her own door. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXVIII. - -Would it were yesterday and I i the grave, -With her sweet faith above for monument. - - -Rosamond and Will stood motionlessthey did not know how longhe -looking towards the spot where Dorothea had stood, and she looking -towards him with doubt. It seemed an endless time to Rosamond, in whose -inmost soul there was hardly so much annoyance as gratification from -what had just happened. Shallow natures dream of an easy sway over the -emotions of others, trusting implicitly in their own petty magic to -turn the deepest streams, and confident, by pretty gestures and -remarks, of making the thing that is not as though it were. She knew -that Will had received a severe blow, but she had been little used to -imagining other peoples states of mind except as a material cut into -shape by her own wishes; and she believed in her own power to soothe or -subdue. Even Tertius, that most perverse of men, was always subdued in -the long-run: events had been obstinate, but still Rosamond would have -said now, as she did before her marriage, that she never gave up what -she had set her mind on. - -She put out her arm and laid the tips of her fingers on Wills -coat-sleeve. - -Dont touch me! he said, with an utterance like the cut of a lash, -darting from her, and changing from pink to white and back again, as if -his whole frame were tingling with the pain of the sting. He wheeled -round to the other side of the room and stood opposite to her, with the -tips of his fingers in his pockets and his head thrown back, looking -fiercely not at Rosamond but at a point a few inches away from her. - -She was keenly offended, but the signs she made of this were such as -only Lydgate was used to interpret. She became suddenly quiet and -seated herself, untying her hanging bonnet and laying it down with her -shawl. Her little hands which she folded before her were very cold. - -It would have been safer for Will in the first instance to have taken -up his hat and gone away; but he had felt no impulse to do this; on the -contrary, he had a horrible inclination to stay and shatter Rosamond -with his anger. It seemed as impossible to bear the fatality she had -drawn down on him without venting his fury as it would be to a panther -to bear the javelin-wound without springing and biting. And yethow -could he tell a woman that he was ready to curse her? He was fuming -under a repressive law which he was forced to acknowledge: he was -dangerously poised, and Rosamonds voice now brought the decisive -vibration. In flute-like tones of sarcasm she said - -You can easily go after Mrs. Casaubon and explain your preference. - -Go after her! he burst out, with a sharp edge in his voice. Do you -think she would turn to look at me, or value any word I ever uttered to -her again at more than a dirty feather?Explain! How can a man explain -at the expense of a woman? - -You can tell her what you please, said Rosamond with more tremor. - -Do you suppose she would like me better for sacrificing you? She is -not a woman to be flattered because I made myself despicableto believe -that I must be true to her because I was a dastard to you. - -He began to move about with the restlessness of a wild animal that sees -prey but cannot reach it. Presently he burst out again - -I had no hope beforenot muchof anything better to come. But I had -one certaintythat she believed in me. Whatever people had said or done -about me, she believed in me.Thats gone! Shell never again think me -anything but a paltry pretencetoo nice to take heaven except upon -flattering conditions, and yet selling myself for any devils change by -the sly. Shell think of me as an incarnate insult to her, from the -first moment we - -Will stopped as if he had found himself grasping something that must -not be thrown and shattered. He found another vent for his rage by -snatching up Rosamonds words again, as if they were reptiles to be -throttled and flung off. - -Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my -preference! I never had a _preference_ for her, any more than I have a -preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I -would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any -other womans living. - -Rosamond, while these poisoned weapons were being hurled at her, was -almost losing the sense of her identity, and seemed to be waking into -some new terrible existence. She had no sense of chill resolute -repulsion, of reticent self-justification such as she had known under -Lydgates most stormy displeasure: all her sensibility was turned into -a bewildering novelty of pain; she felt a new terrified recoil under a -lash never experienced before. What another nature felt in opposition -to her own was being burnt and bitten into her consciousness. When Will -had ceased to speak she had become an image of sickened misery: her -lips were pale, and her eyes had a tearless dismay in them. If it had -been Tertius who stood opposite to her, that look of misery would have -been a pang to him, and he would have sunk by her side to comfort her, -with that strong-armed comfort which she had often held very cheap. - -Let it be forgiven to Will that he had no such movement of pity. He had -felt no bond beforehand to this woman who had spoiled the ideal -treasure of his life, and he held himself blameless. He knew that he -was cruel, but he had no relenting in him yet. - -After he had done speaking, he still moved about, half in absence of -mind, and Rosamond sat perfectly still. At length Will, seeming to -bethink himself, took up his hat, yet stood some moments irresolute. He -had spoken to her in a way that made a phrase of common politeness -difficult to utter; and yet, now that he had come to the point of going -away from her without further speech, he shrank from it as a brutality; -he felt checked and stultified in his anger. He walked towards the -mantel-piece and leaned his arm on it, and waited in silence forhe -hardly knew what. The vindictive fire was still burning in him, and he -could utter no word of retractation; but it was nevertheless in his -mind that having come back to this hearth where he had enjoyed a -caressing friendship he had found calamity seated therehe had had -suddenly revealed to him a trouble that lay outside the home as well as -within it. And what seemed a foreboding was pressing upon him as with -slow pincers:that his life might come to be enslaved by this helpless -woman who had thrown herself upon him in the dreary sadness of her -heart. But he was in gloomy rebellion against the fact that his quick -apprehensiveness foreshadowed to him, and when his eyes fell on -Rosamonds blighted face it seemed to him that he was the more pitiable -of the two; for pain must enter into its glorified life of memory -before it can turn into compassion. - -And so they remained for many minutes, opposite each other, far apart, -in silence; Wills face still possessed by a mute rage, and Rosamonds -by a mute misery. The poor thing had no force to fling out any passion -in return; the terrible collapse of the illusion towards which all her -hope had been strained was a stroke which had too thoroughly shaken -her: her little world was in ruins, and she felt herself tottering in -the midst as a lonely bewildered consciousness. - -Will wished that she would speak and bring some mitigating shadow -across his own cruel speech, which seemed to stand staring at them both -in mockery of any attempt at revived fellowship. But she said nothing, -and at last with a desperate effort over himself, he asked, Shall I -come in and see Lydgate this evening? - -If you like, Rosamond answered, just audibly. - -And then Will went out of the house, Martha never knowing that he had -been in. - -After he was gone, Rosamond tried to get up from her seat, but fell -back fainting. When she came to herself again, she felt too ill to make -the exertion of rising to ring the bell, and she remained helpless -until the girl, surprised at her long absence, thought for the first -time of looking for her in all the down-stairs rooms. Rosamond said -that she had felt suddenly sick and faint, and wanted to be helped -up-stairs. When there she threw herself on the bed with her clothes on, -and lay in apparent torpor, as she had done once before on a memorable -day of grief. - -Lydgate came home earlier than he had expected, about half-past five, -and found her there. The perception that she was ill threw every other -thought into the background. When he felt her pulse, her eyes rested on -him with more persistence than they had done for a long while, as if -she felt some content that he was there. He perceived the difference in -a moment, and seating himself by her put his arm gently under her, and -bending over her said, My poor Rosamond! has something agitated you? -Clinging to him she fell into hysterical sobbings and cries, and for -the next hour he did nothing but soothe and tend her. He imagined that -Dorothea had been to see her, and that all this effect on her nervous -system, which evidently involved some new turning towards himself, was -due to the excitement of the new impressions which that visit had -raised. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXIX. - -Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended their talk, they -drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; -and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name -of the slough was Despond.BUNYAN. - - -When Rosamond was quiet, and Lydgate had left her, hoping that she -might soon sleep under the effect of an anodyne, he went into the -drawing-room to fetch a book which he had left there, meaning to spend -the evening in his work-room, and he saw on the table Dorotheas letter -addressed to him. He had not ventured to ask Rosamond if Mrs. Casaubon -had called, but the reading of this letter assured him of the fact, for -Dorothea mentioned that it was to be carried by herself. - -When Will Ladislaw came in a little later Lydgate met him with a -surprise which made it clear that he had not been told of the earlier -visit, and Will could not say, Did not Mrs. Lydgate tell you that I -came this morning? - -Poor Rosamond is ill, Lydgate added immediately on his greeting. - -Not seriously, I hope, said Will. - -Noonly a slight nervous shockthe effect of some agitation. She has -been overwrought lately. The truth is, Ladislaw, I am an unlucky devil. -We have gone through several rounds of purgatory since you left, and I -have lately got on to a worse ledge of it than ever. I suppose you are -only just come downyou look rather batteredyou have not been long -enough in the town to hear anything? - -I travelled all night and got to the White Hart at eight oclock this -morning. I have been shutting myself up and resting, said Will, -feeling himself a sneak, but seeing no alternative to this evasion. - -And then he heard Lydgates account of the troubles which Rosamond had -already depicted to him in her way. She had not mentioned the fact of -Wills name being connected with the public storythis detail not -immediately affecting herand he now heard it for the first time. - -I thought it better to tell you that your name is mixed up with the -disclosures, said Lydgate, who could understand better than most men -how Ladislaw might be stung by the revelation. You will be sure to -hear it as soon as you turn out into the town. I suppose it is true -that Raffles spoke to you. - -Yes, said Will, sardonically. I shall be fortunate if gossip does -not make me the most disreputable person in the whole affair. I should -think the latest version must be, that I plotted with Raffles to murder -Bulstrode, and ran away from Middlemarch for the purpose. - -He was thinking Here is a new ring in the sound of my name to -recommend it in her hearing; howeverwhat does it signify now? - -But he said nothing of Bulstrodes offer to him. Will was very open and -careless about his personal affairs, but it was among the more -exquisite touches in natures modelling of him that he had a delicate -generosity which warned him into reticence here. He shrank from saying -that he had rejected Bulstrodes money, in the moment when he was -learning that it was Lydgates misfortune to have accepted it. - -Lydgate too was reticent in the midst of his confidence. He made no -allusion to Rosamonds feeling under their trouble, and of Dorothea he -only said, Mrs. Casaubon has been the one person to come forward and -say that she had no belief in any of the suspicions against me. -Observing a change in Wills face, he avoided any further mention of -her, feeling himself too ignorant of their relation to each other not -to fear that his words might have some hidden painful bearing on it. -And it occurred to him that Dorothea was the real cause of the present -visit to Middlemarch. - -The two men were pitying each other, but it was only Will who guessed -the extent of his companions trouble. When Lydgate spoke with -desperate resignation of going to settle in London, and said with a -faint smile, We shall have you again, old fellow, Will felt -inexpressibly mournful, and said nothing. Rosamond had that morning -entreated him to urge this step on Lydgate; and it seemed to him as if -he were beholding in a magic panorama a future where he himself was -sliding into that pleasureless yielding to the small solicitations of -circumstance, which is a commoner history of perdition than any single -momentous bargain. - -We are on a perilous margin when we begin to look passively at our -future selves, and see our own figures led with dull consent into -insipid misdoing and shabby achievement. Poor Lydgate was inwardly -groaning on that margin, and Will was arriving at it. It seemed to him -this evening as if the cruelty of his outburst to Rosamond had made an -obligation for him, and he dreaded the obligation: he dreaded Lydgates -unsuspecting good-will: he dreaded his own distaste for his spoiled -life, which would leave him in motiveless levity. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXX. - -Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear -The Godheads most benignant grace; -Nor know we anything so fair -As is the smile upon thy face; -Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, -And fragrance in thy footing treads; -Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; -And the most ancient Heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong. -WORDSWORTH: _Ode to Duty_. - - -When Dorothea had seen Mr. Farebrother in the morning, she had promised -to go and dine at the parsonage on her return from Freshitt. There was -a frequent interchange of visits between her and the Farebrother -family, which enabled her to say that she was not at all lonely at the -Manor, and to resist for the present the severe prescription of a lady -companion. When she reached home and remembered her engagement, she was -glad of it; and finding that she had still an hour before she could -dress for dinner, she walked straight to the schoolhouse and entered -into a conversation with the master and mistress about the new bell, -giving eager attention to their small details and repetitions, and -getting up a dramatic sense that her life was very busy. She paused on -her way back to talk to old Master Bunney who was putting in some -garden-seeds, and discoursed wisely with that rural sage about the -crops that would make the most return on a perch of ground, and the -result of sixty years experience as to soilsnamely, that if your soil -was pretty mellow it would do, but if there came wet, wet, wet to make -it all of a mummy, why then - -Finding that the social spirit had beguiled her into being rather late, -she dressed hastily and went over to the parsonage rather earlier than -was necessary. That house was never dull, Mr. Farebrother, like another -White of Selborne, having continually something new to tell of his -inarticulate guests and _proteges_, whom he was teaching the boys not -to torment; and he had just set up a pair of beautiful goats to be pets -of the village in general, and to walk at large as sacred animals. The -evening went by cheerfully till after tea, Dorothea talking more than -usual and dilating with Mr. Farebrother on the possible histories of -creatures that converse compendiously with their antennae, and for -aught we know may hold reformed parliaments; when suddenly some -inarticulate little sounds were heard which called everybodys -attention. - -Henrietta Noble, said Mrs. Farebrother, seeing her small sister -moving about the furniture-legs distressfully, what is the matter? - -I have lost my tortoise-shell lozenge-box. I fear the kitten has -rolled it away, said the tiny old lady, involuntarily continuing her -beaver-like notes. - -Is it a great treasure, aunt? said Mr. Farebrother, putting up his -glasses and looking at the carpet. - -Mr. Ladislaw gave it me, said Miss Noble. A German boxvery pretty, -but if it falls it always spins away as far as it can. - -Oh, if it is Ladislaws present, said Mr. Farebrother, in a deep tone -of comprehension, getting up and hunting. The box was found at last -under a chiffonier, and Miss Noble grasped it with delight, saying, it -was under a fender the last time. - -That is an affair of the heart with my aunt, said Mr. Farebrother, -smiling at Dorothea, as he reseated himself. - -If Henrietta Noble forms an attachment to any one, Mrs. Casaubon, -said his mother, emphatically,she is like a dogshe would take their -shoes for a pillow and sleep the better. - -Mr. Ladislaws shoes, I would, said Henrietta Noble. - -Dorothea made an attempt at smiling in return. She was surprised and -annoyed to find that her heart was palpitating violently, and that it -was quite useless to try after a recovery of her former animation. -Alarmed at herselffearing some further betrayal of a change so marked -in its occasion, she rose and said in a low voice with undisguised -anxiety, I must go; I have overtired myself. - -Mr. Farebrother, quick in perception, rose and said, It is true; you -must have half-exhausted yourself in talking about Lydgate. That sort -of work tells upon one after the excitement is over. - -He gave her his arm back to the Manor, but Dorothea did not attempt to -speak, even when he said good-night. - -The limit of resistance was reached, and she had sunk back helpless -within the clutch of inescapable anguish. Dismissing Tantripp with a -few faint words, she locked her door, and turning away from it towards -the vacant room she pressed her hands hard on the top of her head, and -moaned out - -Oh, I did love him! - -Then came the hour in which the waves of suffering shook her too -thoroughly to leave any power of thought. She could only cry in loud -whispers, between her sobs, after her lost belief which she had planted -and kept alive from a very little seed since the days in Romeafter her -lost joy of clinging with silent love and faith to one who, misprized -by others, was worthy in her thoughtafter her lost womans pride of -reigning in his memoryafter her sweet dim perspective of hope, that -along some pathway they should meet with unchanged recognition and take -up the backward years as a yesterday. - -In that hour she repeated what the merciful eyes of solitude have -looked on for ages in the spiritual struggles of manshe besought -hardness and coldness and aching weariness to bring her relief from the -mysterious incorporeal might of her anguish: she lay on the bare floor -and let the night grow cold around her; while her grand womans frame -was shaken by sobs as if she had been a despairing child. - -There were two imagestwo living forms that tore her heart in two, as -if it had been the heart of a mother who seems to see her child divided -by the sword, and presses one bleeding half to her breast while her -gaze goes forth in agony towards the half which is carried away by the -lying woman that has never known the mothers pang. - -Here, with the nearness of an answering smile, here within the -vibrating bond of mutual speech, was the bright creature whom she had -trustedwho had come to her like the spirit of morning visiting the dim -vault where she sat as the bride of a worn-out life; and now, with a -full consciousness which had never awakened before, she stretched out -her arms towards him and cried with bitter cries that their nearness -was a parting vision: she discovered her passion to herself in the -unshrinking utterance of despair. - -And there, aloof, yet persistently with her, moving wherever she moved, -was the Will Ladislaw who was a changed belief exhausted of hope, a -detected illusionno, a living man towards whom there could not yet -struggle any wail of regretful pity, from the midst of scorn and -indignation and jealous offended pride. The fire of Dorotheas anger -was not easily spent, and it flamed out in fitful returns of spurning -reproach. Why had he come obtruding his life into hers, hers that might -have been whole enough without him? Why had he brought his cheap regard -and his lip-born words to her who had nothing paltry to give in -exchange? He knew that he was deluding herwished, in the very moment -of farewell, to make her believe that he gave her the whole price of -her heart, and knew that he had spent it half before. Why had he not -stayed among the crowd of whom she asked nothingbut only prayed that -they might be less contemptible? - -But she lost energy at last even for her loud-whispered cries and -moans: she subsided into helpless sobs, and on the cold floor she -sobbed herself to sleep. - -In the chill hours of the morning twilight, when all was dim around -her, she awokenot with any amazed wondering where she was or what had -happened, but with the clearest consciousness that she was looking into -the eyes of sorrow. She rose, and wrapped warm things around her, and -seated herself in a great chair where she had often watched before. She -was vigorous enough to have borne that hard night without feeling ill -in body, beyond some aching and fatigue; but she had waked to a new -condition: she felt as if her soul had been liberated from its terrible -conflict; she was no longer wrestling with her grief, but could sit -down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her -thoughts. For now the thoughts came thickly. It was not in Dorotheas -nature, for longer than the duration of a paroxysm, to sit in the -narrow cell of her calamity, in the besotted misery of a consciousness -that only sees anothers lot as an accident of its own. - -She began now to live through that yesterday morning deliberately -again, forcing herself to dwell on every detail and its possible -meaning. Was she alone in that scene? Was it her event only? She forced -herself to think of it as bound up with another womans lifea woman -towards whom she had set out with a longing to carry some clearness and -comfort into her beclouded youth. In her first outleap of jealous -indignation and disgust, when quitting the hateful room, she had flung -away all the mercy with which she had undertaken that visit. She had -enveloped both Will and Rosamond in her burning scorn, and it seemed to -her as if Rosamond were burned out of her sight forever. But that base -prompting which makes a women more cruel to a rival than to a faithless -lover, could have no strength of recurrence in Dorothea when the -dominant spirit of justice within her had once overcome the tumult and -had once shown her the truer measure of things. All the active thought -with which she had before been representing to herself the trials of -Lydgates lot, and this young marriage union which, like her own, -seemed to have its hidden as well as evident troublesall this vivid -sympathetic experience returned to her now as a power: it asserted -itself as acquired knowledge asserts itself and will not let us see as -we saw in the day of our ignorance. She said to her own irremediable -grief, that it should make her more helpful, instead of driving her -back from effort. - -And what sort of crisis might not this be in three lives whose contact -with hers laid an obligation on her as if they had been suppliants -bearing the sacred branch? The objects of her rescue were not to be -sought out by her fancy: they were chosen for her. She yearned towards -the perfect Right, that it might make a throne within her, and rule her -errant will. What should I dohow should I act now, this very day, if -I could clutch my own pain, and compel it to silence, and think of -those three? - -It had taken long for her to come to that question, and there was light -piercing into the room. She opened her curtains, and looked out towards -the bit of road that lay in view, with fields beyond outside the -entrance-gates. On the road there was a man with a bundle on his back -and a woman carrying her baby; in the field she could see figures -movingperhaps the shepherd with his dog. Far off in the bending sky -was the pearly light; and she felt the largeness of the world and the -manifold wakings of men to labor and endurance. She was a part of that -involuntary, palpitating life, and could neither look out on it from -her luxurious shelter as a mere spectator, nor hide her eyes in selfish -complaining. - -What she would resolve to do that day did not yet seem quite clear, but -something that she could achieve stirred her as with an approaching -murmur which would soon gather distinctness. She took off the clothes -which seemed to have some of the weariness of a hard watching in them, -and began to make her toilet. Presently she rang for Tantripp, who came -in her dressing-gown. - -Why, madam, youve never been in bed this blessed night, burst out -Tantripp, looking first at the bed and then at Dorotheas face, which -in spite of bathing had the pale cheeks and pink eyelids of a mater -dolorosa. Youll kill yourself, you _will_. Anybody might think now -you had a right to give yourself a little comfort. - -Dont be alarmed, Tantripp, said Dorothea, smiling. I have slept; I -am not ill. I shall be glad of a cup of coffee as soon as possible. And -I want you to bring me my new dress; and most likely I shall want my -new bonnet to-day. - -Theyve lain there a month and more ready for you, madam, and most -thankful I shall be to see you with a couple o pounds worth less of -crape, said Tantripp, stooping to light the fire. Theres a reason in -mourning, as Ive always said; and three folds at the bottom of your -skirt and a plain quilling in your bonnetand if ever anybody looked -like an angel, its you in a net quillingis whats consistent for a -second year. At least, thats _my_ thinking, ended Tantripp, looking -anxiously at the fire; and if anybody was to marry me flattering -himself I should wear those hijeous weepers two years for him, hed be -deceived by his own vanity, thats all. - -The fire will do, my good Tan, said Dorothea, speaking as she used to -do in the old Lausanne days, only with a very low voice; get me the -coffee. - -She folded herself in the large chair, and leaned her head against it -in fatigued quiescence, while Tantripp went away wondering at this -strange contrariness in her young mistressthat just the morning when -she had more of a widows face than ever, she should have asked for her -lighter mourning which she had waived before. Tantripp would never have -found the clew to this mystery. Dorothea wished to acknowledge that she -had not the less an active life before her because she had buried a -private joy; and the tradition that fresh garments belonged to all -initiation, haunting her mind, made her grasp after even that slight -outward help towards calm resolve. For the resolve was not easy. - -Nevertheless at eleven oclock she was walking towards Middlemarch, -having made up her mind that she would make as quietly and unnoticeably -as possible her second attempt to see and save Rosamond. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXI. - -Du Erde warst auch diese Nacht bestndig, -Und athmest neu erquickt zu meinen Fssen, -Beginnest schon mit Lust mich zu umgeben, -Du regst und rhrst ein krftiges Beschliessen -_Zum hchsten Dasein immerfort zu streben_. -_Faust:_ 2r Theil. - - -When Dorothea was again at Lydgates door speaking to Martha, he was in -the room close by with the door ajar, preparing to go out. He heard her -voice, and immediately came to her. - -Do you think that Mrs. Lydgate can receive me this morning? she said, -having reflected that it would be better to leave out all allusion to -her previous visit. - -I have no doubt she will, said Lydgate, suppressing his thought about -Dorotheas looks, which were as much changed as Rosamonds, if you -will be kind enough to come in and let me tell her that you are here. -She has not been very well since you were here yesterday, but she is -better this morning, and I think it is very likely that she will be -cheered by seeing you again. - -It was plain that Lydgate, as Dorothea had expected, knew nothing about -the circumstances of her yesterdays visit; nay, he appeared to imagine -that she had carried it out according to her intention. She had -prepared a little note asking Rosamond to see her, which she would have -given to the servant if he had not been in the way, but now she was in -much anxiety as to the result of his announcement. - -After leading her into the drawing-room, he paused to take a letter -from his pocket and put it into her hands, saying, I wrote this last -night, and was going to carry it to Lowick in my ride. When one is -grateful for something too good for common thanks, writing is less -unsatisfactory than speechone does not at least _hear_ how inadequate -the words are. - -Dorotheas face brightened. It is I who have most to thank for, since -you have let me take that place. You _have_ consented? she said, -suddenly doubting. - -Yes, the check is going to Bulstrode to-day. - -He said no more, but went up-stairs to Rosamond, who had but lately -finished dressing herself, and sat languidly wondering what she should -do next, her habitual industry in small things, even in the days of her -sadness, prompting her to begin some kind of occupation, which she -dragged through slowly or paused in from lack of interest. She looked -ill, but had recovered her usual quietude of manner, and Lydgate had -feared to disturb her by any questions. He had told her of Dorotheas -letter containing the check, and afterwards he had said, Ladislaw is -come, Rosy; he sat with me last night; I dare say he will be here again -to-day. I thought he looked rather battered and depressed. And -Rosamond had made no reply. - -Now, when he came up, he said to her very gently, Rosy, dear, Mrs. -Casaubon is come to see you again; you would like to see her, would you -not? That she colored and gave rather a startled movement did not -surprise him after the agitation produced by the interview yesterdaya -beneficent agitation, he thought, since it seemed to have made her turn -to him again. - -Rosamond dared not say no. She dared not with a tone of her voice touch -the facts of yesterday. Why had Mrs. Casaubon come again? The answer -was a blank which Rosamond could only fill up with dread, for Will -Ladislaws lacerating words had made every thought of Dorothea a fresh -smart to her. Nevertheless, in her new humiliating uncertainty she -dared do nothing but comply. She did not say yes, but she rose and let -Lydgate put a light shawl over her shoulders, while he said, I am -going out immediately. Then something crossed her mind which prompted -her to say, Pray tell Martha not to bring any one else into the -drawing-room. And Lydgate assented, thinking that he fully understood -this wish. He led her down to the drawing-room door, and then turned -away, observing to himself that he was rather a blundering husband to -be dependent for his wifes trust in him on the influence of another -woman. - -Rosamond, wrapping her soft shawl around her as she walked towards -Dorothea, was inwardly wrapping her soul in cold reserve. Had Mrs. -Casaubon come to say anything to her about Will? If so, it was a -liberty that Rosamond resented; and she prepared herself to meet every -word with polite impassibility. Will had bruised her pride too sorely -for her to feel any compunction towards him and Dorothea: her own -injury seemed much the greater. Dorothea was not only the preferred -woman, but had also a formidable advantage in being Lydgates -benefactor; and to poor Rosamonds pained confused vision it seemed -that this Mrs. Casaubonthis woman who predominated in all things -concerning hermust have come now with the sense of having the -advantage, and with animosity prompting her to use it. Indeed, not -Rosamond only, but any one else, knowing the outer facts of the case, -and not the simple inspiration on which Dorothea acted, might well have -wondered why she came. - -Looking like the lovely ghost of herself, her graceful slimness wrapped -in her soft white shawl, the rounded infantine mouth and cheek -inevitably suggesting mildness and innocence, Rosamond paused at three -yards distance from her visitor and bowed. But Dorothea, who had taken -off her gloves, from an impulse which she could never resist when she -wanted a sense of freedom, came forward, and with her face full of a -sad yet sweet openness, put out her hand. Rosamond could not avoid -meeting her glance, could not avoid putting her small hand into -Dorotheas, which clasped it with gentle motherliness; and immediately -a doubt of her own prepossessions began to stir within her. Rosamonds -eye was quick for faces; she saw that Mrs. Casaubons face looked pale -and changed since yesterday, yet gentle, and like the firm softness of -her hand. But Dorothea had counted a little too much on her own -strength: the clearness and intensity of her mental action this morning -were the continuance of a nervous exaltation which made her frame as -dangerously responsive as a bit of finest Venetian crystal; and in -looking at Rosamond, she suddenly found her heart swelling, and was -unable to speakall her effort was required to keep back tears. She -succeeded in that, and the emotion only passed over her face like the -spirit of a sob; but it added to Rosamonds impression that Mrs. -Casaubons state of mind must be something quite different from what -she had imagined. - -So they sat down without a word of preface on the two chairs that -happened to be nearest, and happened also to be close together; though -Rosamonds notion when she first bowed was that she should stay a long -way off from Mrs. Casaubon. But she ceased thinking how anything would -turn outmerely wondering what would come. And Dorothea began to speak -quite simply, gathering firmness as she went on. - -I had an errand yesterday which I did not finish; that is why I am -here again so soon. You will not think me too troublesome when I tell -you that I came to talk to you about the injustice that has been shown -towards Mr. Lydgate. It will cheer youwill it not?to know a great -deal about him, that he may not like to speak about himself just -because it is in his own vindication and to his own honor. You will -like to know that your husband has warm friends, who have not left off -believing in his high character? You will let me speak of this without -thinking that I take a liberty? - -The cordial, pleading tones which seemed to flow with generous -heedlessness above all the facts which had filled Rosamonds mind as -grounds of obstruction and hatred between her and this woman, came as -soothingly as a warm stream over her shrinking fears. Of course Mrs. -Casaubon had the facts in her mind, but she was not going to speak of -anything connected with them. That relief was too great for Rosamond to -feel much else at the moment. She answered prettily, in the new ease of -her soul - -I know you have been very good. I shall like to hear anything you will -say to me about Tertius. - -The day before yesterday, said Dorothea, when I had asked him to -come to Lowick to give me his opinion on the affairs of the Hospital, -he told me everything about his conduct and feelings in this sad event -which has made ignorant people cast suspicions on him. The reason he -told me was because I was very bold and asked him. I believed that he -had never acted dishonorably, and I begged him to tell me the history. -He confessed to me that he had never told it before, not even to you, -because he had a great dislike to say, I was not wrong, as if that -were proof, when there are guilty people who will say so. The truth is, -he knew nothing of this man Raffles, or that there were any bad secrets -about him; and he thought that Mr. Bulstrode offered him the money -because he repented, out of kindness, of having refused it before. All -his anxiety about his patient was to treat him rightly, and he was a -little uncomfortable that the case did not end as he had expected; but -he thought then and still thinks that there may have been no wrong in -it on any ones part. And I have told Mr. Farebrother, and Mr. Brooke, -and Sir James Chettam: they all believe in your husband. That will -cheer you, will it not? That will give you courage? - -Dorotheas face had become animated, and as it beamed on Rosamond very -close to her, she felt something like bashful timidity before a -superior, in the presence of this self-forgetful ardor. She said, with -blushing embarrassment, Thank you: you are very kind. - -And he felt that he had been so wrong not to pour out everything about -this to you. But you will forgive him. It was because he feels so much -more about your happiness than anything elsehe feels his life bound -into one with yours, and it hurts him more than anything, that his -misfortunes must hurt you. He could speak to me because I am an -indifferent person. And then I asked him if I might come to see you; -because I felt so much for his trouble and yours. That is why I came -yesterday, and why I am come to-day. Trouble is so hard to bear, is it -not? How can we live and think that any one has troublepiercing -troubleand we could help them, and never try? - -Dorothea, completely swayed by the feeling that she was uttering, -forgot everything but that she was speaking from out the heart of her -own trial to Rosamonds. The emotion had wrought itself more and more -into her utterance, till the tones might have gone to ones very -marrow, like a low cry from some suffering creature in the darkness. -And she had unconsciously laid her hand again on the little hand that -she had pressed before. - -Rosamond, with an overmastering pang, as if a wound within her had been -probed, burst into hysterical crying as she had done the day before -when she clung to her husband. Poor Dorothea was feeling a great wave -of her own sorrow returning over herher thought being drawn to the -possible share that Will Ladislaw might have in Rosamonds mental -tumult. She was beginning to fear that she should not be able to -suppress herself enough to the end of this meeting, and while her hand -was still resting on Rosamonds lap, though the hand underneath it was -withdrawn, she was struggling against her own rising sobs. She tried to -master herself with the thought that this might be a turning-point in -three livesnot in her own; no, there the irrevocable had happened, -butin those three lives which were touching hers with the solemn -neighborhood of danger and distress. The fragile creature who was -crying close to herthere might still be time to rescue her from the -misery of false incompatible bonds; and this moment was unlike any -other: she and Rosamond could never be together again with the same -thrilling consciousness of yesterday within them both. She felt the -relation between them to be peculiar enough to give her a peculiar -influence, though she had no conception that the way in which her own -feelings were involved was fully known to Mrs. Lydgate. - -It was a newer crisis in Rosamonds experience than even Dorothea could -imagine: she was under the first great shock that had shattered her -dream-world in which she had been easily confident of herself and -critical of others; and this strange unexpected manifestation of -feeling in a woman whom she had approached with a shrinking aversion -and dread, as one who must necessarily have a jealous hatred towards -her, made her soul totter all the more with a sense that she had been -walking in an unknown world which had just broken in upon her. - -When Rosamonds convulsed throat was subsiding into calm, and she -withdrew the handkerchief with which she had been hiding her face, her -eyes met Dorotheas as helplessly as if they had been blue flowers. -What was the use of thinking about behavior after this crying? And -Dorothea looked almost as childish, with the neglected trace of a -silent tear. Pride was broken down between these two. - -We were talking about your husband, Dorothea said, with some -timidity. I thought his looks were sadly changed with suffering the -other day. I had not seen him for many weeks before. He said he had -been feeling very lonely in his trial; but I think he would have borne -it all better if he had been able to be quite open with you. - -Tertius is so angry and impatient if I say anything, said Rosamond, -imagining that he had been complaining of her to Dorothea. He ought -not to wonder that I object to speak to him on painful subjects. - -It was himself he blamed for not speaking, said Dorothea. What he -said of you was, that he could not be happy in doing anything which -made you unhappythat his marriage was of course a bond which must -affect his choice about everything; and for that reason he refused my -proposal that he should keep his position at the Hospital, because that -would bind him to stay in Middlemarch, and he would not undertake to do -anything which would be painful to you. He could say that to me, -because he knows that I had much trial in my marriage, from my -husbands illness, which hindered his plans and saddened him; and he -knows that I have felt how hard it is to walk always in fear of hurting -another who is tied to us. - -Dorothea waited a little; she had discerned a faint pleasure stealing -over Rosamonds face. But there was no answer, and she went on, with a -gathering tremor, Marriage is so unlike everything else. There is -something even awful in the nearness it brings. Even if we loved some -one else better thanthan those we were married to, it would be no -usepoor Dorothea, in her palpitating anxiety, could only seize her -language brokenlyI mean, marriage drinks up all our power of giving -or getting any blessedness in that sort of love. I know it may be very -dearbut it murders our marriageand then the marriage stays with us -like a murderand everything else is gone. And then our husbandif he -loved and trusted us, and we have not helped him, but made a curse in -his life - -Her voice had sunk very low: there was a dread upon her of presuming -too far, and of speaking as if she herself were perfection addressing -error. She was too much preoccupied with her own anxiety, to be aware -that Rosamond was trembling too; and filled with the need to express -pitying fellowship rather than rebuke, she put her hands on Rosamonds, -and said with more agitated rapidity,I know, I know that the feeling -may be very dearit has taken hold of us unawaresit is so hard, it may -seem like death to part with itand we are weakI am weak - -The waves of her own sorrow, from out of which she was struggling to -save another, rushed over Dorothea with conquering force. She stopped -in speechless agitation, not crying, but feeling as if she were being -inwardly grappled. Her face had become of a deathlier paleness, her -lips trembled, and she pressed her hands helplessly on the hands that -lay under them. - -Rosamond, taken hold of by an emotion stronger than her ownhurried -along in a new movement which gave all things some new, awful, -undefined aspectcould find no words, but involuntarily she put her -lips to Dorotheas forehead which was very near her, and then for a -minute the two women clasped each other as if they had been in a -shipwreck. - -You are thinking what is not true, said Rosamond, in an eager -half-whisper, while she was still feeling Dorotheas arms round -herurged by a mysterious necessity to free herself from something that -oppressed her as if it were blood guiltiness. - -They moved apart, looking at each other. - -When you came in yesterdayit was not as you thought, said Rosamond -in the same tone. - -There was a movement of surprised attention in Dorothea. She expected a -vindication of Rosamond herself. - -He was telling me how he loved another woman, that I might know he -could never love me, said Rosamond, getting more and more hurried as -she went on. And now I think he hates me becausebecause you mistook -him yesterday. He says it is through me that you will think ill of -himthink that he is a false person. But it shall not be through me. He -has never had any love for meI know he has nothe has always thought -slightly of me. He said yesterday that no other woman existed for him -beside you. The blame of what happened is entirely mine. He said he -could never explain to youbecause of me. He said you could never think -well of him again. But now I have told you, and he cannot reproach me -any more. - -Rosamond had delivered her soul under impulses which she had not known -before. She had begun her confession under the subduing influence of -Dorotheas emotion; and as she went on she had gathered the sense that -she was repelling Wills reproaches, which were still like a -knife-wound within her. - -The revulsion of feeling in Dorothea was too strong to be called joy. -It was a tumult in which the terrible strain of the night and morning -made a resistant pain:she could only perceive that this would be joy -when she had recovered her power of feeling it. Her immediate -consciousness was one of immense sympathy without check; she cared for -Rosamond without struggle now, and responded earnestly to her last -words - -No, he cannot reproach you any more. - -With her usual tendency to over-estimate the good in others, she felt a -great outgoing of her heart towards Rosamond, for the generous effort -which had redeemed her from suffering, not counting that the effort was -a reflex of her own energy. After they had been silent a little, she -said - -You are not sorry that I came this morning? - -No, you have been very good to me, said Rosamond. I did not think -that you would be so good. I was very unhappy. I am not happy now. -Everything is so sad. - -But better days will come. Your husband will be rightly valued. And he -depends on you for comfort. He loves you best. The worst loss would be -to lose thatand you have not lost it, said Dorothea. - -She tried to thrust away the too overpowering thought of her own -relief, lest she should fail to win some sign that Rosamonds affection -was yearning back towards her husband. - -Tertius did not find fault with me, then? said Rosamond, -understanding now that Lydgate might have said anything to Mrs. -Casaubon, and that she certainly was different from other women. -Perhaps there was a faint taste of jealousy in the question. A smile -began to play over Dorotheas face as she said - -No, indeed! How could you imagine it? But here the door opened, and -Lydgate entered. - -I am come back in my quality of doctor, he said. After I went away, -I was haunted by two pale faces: Mrs. Casaubon looked as much in need -of care as you, Rosy. And I thought that I had not done my duty in -leaving you together; so when I had been to Colemans I came home -again. I noticed that you were walking, Mrs. Casaubon, and the sky has -changedI think we may have rain. May I send some one to order your -carriage to come for you? - -Oh, no! I am strong: I need the walk, said Dorothea, rising with -animation in her face. Mrs. Lydgate and I have chatted a great deal, -and it is time for me to go. I have always been accused of being -immoderate and saying too much. - -She put out her hand to Rosamond, and they said an earnest, quiet -good-by without kiss or other show of effusion: there had been between -them too much serious emotion for them to use the signs of it -superficially. - -As Lydgate took her to the door she said nothing of Rosamond, but told -him of Mr. Farebrother and the other friends who had listened with -belief to his story. - -When he came back to Rosamond, she had already thrown herself on the -sofa, in resigned fatigue. - -Well, Rosy, he said, standing over her, and touching her hair, what -do you think of Mrs. Casaubon now you have seen so much of her? - -I think she must be better than any one, said Rosamond, and she is -very beautiful. If you go to talk to her so often, you will be more -discontented with me than ever! - -Lydgate laughed at the so often. But has she made you any less -discontented with me? - -I think she has, said Rosamond, looking up in his face. How heavy -your eyes are, Tertiusand do push your hair back. He lifted up his -large white hand to obey her, and felt thankful for this little mark of -interest in him. Poor Rosamonds vagrant fancy had come back terribly -scourgedmeek enough to nestle under the old despised shelter. And the -shelter was still there: Lydgate had accepted his narrowed lot with sad -resignation. He had chosen this fragile creature, and had taken the -burthen of her life upon his arms. He must walk as he could, carrying -that burthen pitifully. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXII. - -My grief lies onward and my joy behind. -SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. - - -Exiles notoriously feed much on hopes, and are unlikely to stay in -banishment unless they are obliged. When Will Ladislaw exiled himself -from Middlemarch he had placed no stronger obstacle to his return than -his own resolve, which was by no means an iron barrier, but simply a -state of mind liable to melt into a minuet with other states of mind, -and to find itself bowing, smiling, and giving place with polite -facility. As the months went on, it had seemed more and more difficult -to him to say why he should not run down to Middlemarchmerely for the -sake of hearing something about Dorothea; and if on such a flying visit -he should chance by some strange coincidence to meet with her, there -was no reason for him to be ashamed of having taken an innocent journey -which he had beforehand supposed that he should not take. Since he was -hopelessly divided from her, he might surely venture into her -neighborhood; and as to the suspicious friends who kept a dragon watch -over hertheir opinions seemed less and less important with time and -change of air. - -And there had come a reason quite irrespective of Dorothea, which -seemed to make a journey to Middlemarch a sort of philanthropic duty. -Will had given a disinterested attention to an intended settlement on a -new plan in the Far West, and the need for funds in order to carry out -a good design had set him on debating with himself whether it would not -be a laudable use to make of his claim on Bulstrode, to urge the -application of that money which had been offered to himself as a means -of carrying out a scheme likely to be largely beneficial. The question -seemed a very dubious one to Will, and his repugnance to again entering -into any relation with the banker might have made him dismiss it -quickly, if there had not arisen in his imagination the probability -that his judgment might be more safely determined by a visit to -Middlemarch. - -That was the object which Will stated to himself as a reason for coming -down. He had meant to confide in Lydgate, and discuss the money -question with him, and he had meant to amuse himself for the few -evenings of his stay by having a great deal of music and badinage with -fair Rosamond, without neglecting his friends at Lowick Parsonage:if -the Parsonage was close to the Manor, that was no fault of his. He had -neglected the Farebrothers before his departure, from a proud -resistance to the possible accusation of indirectly seeking interviews -with Dorothea; but hunger tames us, and Will had become very hungry for -the vision of a certain form and the sound of a certain voice. Nothing -had done insteadnot the opera, or the converse of zealous politicians, -or the flattering reception (in dim corners) of his new hand in leading -articles. - -Thus he had come down, foreseeing with confidence how almost everything -would be in his familiar little world; fearing, indeed, that there -would be no surprises in his visit. But he had found that humdrum world -in a terribly dynamic condition, in which even badinage and lyrism had -turned explosive; and the first day of this visit had become the most -fatal epoch of his life. The next morning he felt so harassed with the -nightmare of consequenceshe dreaded so much the immediate issues -before himthat seeing while he breakfasted the arrival of the -Riverston coach, he went out hurriedly and took his place on it, that -he might be relieved, at least for a day, from the necessity of doing -or saying anything in Middlemarch. Will Ladislaw was in one of those -tangled crises which are commoner in experience than one might imagine, -from the shallow absoluteness of mens judgments. He had found Lydgate, -for whom he had the sincerest respect, under circumstances which -claimed his thorough and frankly declared sympathy; and the reason why, -in spite of that claim, it would have been better for Will to have -avoided all further intimacy, or even contact, with Lydgate, was -precisely of the kind to make such a course appear impossible. To a -creature of Wills susceptible temperamentwithout any neutral region -of indifference in his nature, ready to turn everything that befell him -into the collisions of a passionate dramathe revelation that Rosamond -had made her happiness in any way dependent on him was a difficulty -which his outburst of rage towards her had immeasurably increased for -him. He hated his own cruelty, and yet he dreaded to show the fulness -of his relenting: he must go to her again; the friendship could not be -put to a sudden end; and her unhappiness was a power which he dreaded. -And all the while there was no more foretaste of enjoyment in the life -before him than if his limbs had been lopped off and he was making his -fresh start on crutches. In the night he had debated whether he should -not get on the coach, not for Riverston, but for London, leaving a note -to Lydgate which would give a makeshift reason for his retreat. But -there were strong cords pulling him back from that abrupt departure: -the blight on his happiness in thinking of Dorothea, the crushing of -that chief hope which had remained in spite of the acknowledged -necessity for renunciation, was too fresh a misery for him to resign -himself to it and go straightway into a distance which was also -despair. - -Thus he did nothing more decided than taking the Riverston coach. He -came back again by it while it was still daylight, having made up his -mind that he must go to Lydgates that evening. The Rubicon, we know, -was a very insignificant stream to look at; its significance lay -entirely in certain invisible conditions. Will felt as if he were -forced to cross his small boundary ditch, and what he saw beyond it was -not empire, but discontented subjection. - -But it is given to us sometimes even in our every-day life to witness -the saving influence of a noble nature, the divine efficacy of rescue -that may lie in a self-subduing act of fellowship. If Dorothea, after -her nights anguish, had not taken that walk to Rosamondwhy, she -perhaps would have been a woman who gained a higher character for -discretion, but it would certainly not have been as well for those -three who were on one hearth in Lydgates house at half-past seven that -evening. - -Rosamond had been prepared for Wills visit, and she received him with -a languid coldness which Lydgate accounted for by her nervous -exhaustion, of which he could not suppose that it had any relation to -Will. And when she sat in silence bending over a bit of work, he -innocently apologized for her in an indirect way by begging her to lean -backward and rest. Will was miserable in the necessity for playing the -part of a friend who was making his first appearance and greeting to -Rosamond, while his thoughts were busy about her feeling since that -scene of yesterday, which seemed still inexorably to enclose them both, -like the painful vision of a double madness. It happened that nothing -called Lydgate out of the room; but when Rosamond poured out the tea, -and Will came near to fetch it, she placed a tiny bit of folded paper -in his saucer. He saw it and secured it quickly, but as he went back to -his inn he had no eagerness to unfold the paper. What Rosamond had -written to him would probably deepen the painful impressions of the -evening. Still, he opened and read it by his bed-candle. There were -only these few words in her neatly flowing hand: - -I have told Mrs. Casaubon. She is not under any mistake about you. I -told her because she came to see me and was very kind. You will have -nothing to reproach me with now. I shall not have made any difference -to you. - -The effect of these words was not quite all gladness. As Will dwelt on -them with excited imagination, he felt his cheeks and ears burning at -the thought of what had occurred between Dorothea and Rosamondat the -uncertainty how far Dorothea might still feel her dignity wounded in -having an explanation of his conduct offered to her. There might still -remain in her mind a changed association with him which made an -irremediable differencea lasting flaw. With active fancy he wrought -himself into a state of doubt little more easy than that of the man who -has escaped from wreck by night and stands on unknown ground in the -darkness. Until that wretched yesterdayexcept the moment of vexation -long ago in the very same room and in the very same presenceall their -vision, all their thought of each other, had been as in a world apart, -where the sunshine fell on tall white lilies, where no evil lurked, and -no other soul entered. But nowwould Dorothea meet him in that world -again? - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXIII. - -And now good-morrow to our waking souls -Which watch not one another out of fear; -For love all love of other sights controls, -And makes one little room, an everywhere. -DR. DONNE. - - -On the second morning after Dorotheas visit to Rosamond, she had had -two nights of sound sleep, and had not only lost all traces of fatigue, -but felt as if she had a great deal of superfluous strengththat is to -say, more strength than she could manage to concentrate on any -occupation. The day before, she had taken long walks outside the -grounds, and had paid two visits to the Parsonage; but she never in her -life told any one the reason why she spent her time in that fruitless -manner, and this morning she was rather angry with herself for her -childish restlessness. To-day was to be spent quite differently. What -was there to be done in the village? Oh dear! nothing. Everybody was -well and had flannel; nobodys pig had died; and it was Saturday -morning, when there was a general scrubbing of doors and door-stones, -and when it was useless to go into the school. But there were various -subjects that Dorothea was trying to get clear upon, and she resolved -to throw herself energetically into the gravest of all. She sat down in -the library before her particular little heap of books on political -economy and kindred matters, out of which she was trying to get light -as to the best way of spending money so as not to injure ones -neighbors, orwhat comes to the same thingso as to do them the most -good. Here was a weighty subject which, if she could but lay hold of -it, would certainly keep her mind steady. Unhappily her mind slipped -off it for a whole hour; and at the end she found herself reading -sentences twice over with an intense consciousness of many things, but -not of any one thing contained in the text. This was hopeless. Should -she order the carriage and drive to Tipton? No; for some reason or -other she preferred staying at Lowick. But her vagrant mind must be -reduced to order: there was an art in self-discipline; and she walked -round and round the brown library considering by what sort of manoeuvre -she could arrest her wandering thoughts. Perhaps a mere task was the -best meanssomething to which she must go doggedly. Was there not the -geography of Asia Minor, in which her slackness had often been rebuked -by Mr. Casaubon? She went to the cabinet of maps and unrolled one: this -morning she might make herself finally sure that Paphlagonia was not on -the Levantine coast, and fix her total darkness about the Chalybes -firmly on the shores of the Euxine. A map was a fine thing to study -when you were disposed to think of something else, being made up of -names that would turn into a chime if you went back upon them. Dorothea -set earnestly to work, bending close to her map, and uttering the names -in an audible, subdued tone, which often got into a chime. She looked -amusingly girlish after all her deep experiencenodding her head and -marking the names off on her fingers, with a little pursing of her lip, -and now and then breaking off to put her hands on each side of her face -and say, Oh dear! oh dear! - -There was no reason why this should end any more than a merry-go-round; -but it was at last interrupted by the opening of the door and the -announcement of Miss Noble. - -The little old lady, whose bonnet hardly reached Dorotheas shoulder, -was warmly welcomed, but while her hand was being pressed she made many -of her beaver-like noises, as if she had something difficult to say. - -Do sit down, said Dorothea, rolling a chair forward. Am I wanted for -anything? I shall be so glad if I can do anything. - -I will not stay, said Miss Noble, putting her hand into her small -basket, and holding some article inside it nervously; I have left a -friend in the churchyard. She lapsed into her inarticulate sounds, and -unconsciously drew forth the article which she was fingering. It was -the tortoise-shell lozenge-box, and Dorothea felt the color mounting to -her cheeks. - -Mr. Ladislaw, continued the timid little woman. He fears he has -offended you, and has begged me to ask if you will see him for a few -minutes. - -Dorothea did not answer on the instant: it was crossing her mind that -she could not receive him in this library, where her husbands -prohibition seemed to dwell. She looked towards the window. Could she -go out and meet him in the grounds? The sky was heavy, and the trees -had begun to shiver as at a coming storm. Besides, she shrank from -going out to him. - -Do see him, Mrs. Casaubon, said Miss Noble, pathetically; else I -must go back and say No, and that will hurt him. - -Yes, I will see him, said Dorothea. Pray tell him to come. - -What else was there to be done? There was nothing that she longed for -at that moment except to see Will: the possibility of seeing him had -thrust itself insistently between her and every other object; and yet -she had a throbbing excitement like an alarm upon hera sense that she -was doing something daringly defiant for his sake. - -When the little lady had trotted away on her mission, Dorothea stood in -the middle of the library with her hands falling clasped before her, -making no attempt to compose herself in an attitude of dignified -unconsciousness. What she was least conscious of just then was her own -body: she was thinking of what was likely to be in Wills mind, and of -the hard feelings that others had had about him. How could any duty -bind her to hardness? Resistance to unjust dispraise had mingled with -her feeling for him from the very first, and now in the rebound of her -heart after her anguish the resistance was stronger than ever. If I -love him too much it is because he has been used so ill:there was a -voice within her saying this to some imagined audience in the library, -when the door was opened, and she saw Will before her. - -She did not move, and he came towards her with more doubt and timidity -in his face than she had ever seen before. He was in a state of -uncertainty which made him afraid lest some look or word of his should -condemn him to a new distance from her; and Dorothea was afraid of her -_own_ emotion. She looked as if there were a spell upon her, keeping -her motionless and hindering her from unclasping her hands, while some -intense, grave yearning was imprisoned within her eyes. Seeing that she -did not put out her hand as usual, Will paused a yard from her and said -with embarrassment, I am so grateful to you for seeing me. - -I wanted to see you, said Dorothea, having no other words at command. -It did not occur to her to sit down, and Will did not give a cheerful -interpretation to this queenly way of receiving him; but he went on to -say what he had made up his mind to say. - -I fear you think me foolish and perhaps wrong for coming back so soon. -I have been punished for my impatience. You knowevery one knows nowa -painful story about my parentage. I knew of it before I went away, and -I always meant to tell you of it ifif we ever met again. - -There was a slight movement in Dorothea, and she unclasped her hands, -but immediately folded them over each other. - -But the affair is matter of gossip now, Will continued. I wished you -to know that something connected with itsomething which happened -before I went away, helped to bring me down here again. At least I -thought it excused my coming. It was the idea of getting Bulstrode to -apply some money to a public purposesome money which he had thought of -giving me. Perhaps it is rather to Bulstrodes credit that he privately -offered me compensation for an old injury: he offered to give me a good -income to make amends; but I suppose you know the disagreeable story? - -Will looked doubtfully at Dorothea, but his manner was gathering some -of the defiant courage with which he always thought of this fact in his -destiny. He added, You know that it must be altogether painful to me. - -YesyesI know, said Dorothea, hastily. - -I did not choose to accept an income from such a source. I was sure -that you would not think well of me if I did so, said Will. Why should -he mind saying anything of that sort to her now? She knew that he had -avowed his love for her. I felt thathe broke off, nevertheless. - -You acted as I should have expected you to act, said Dorothea, her -face brightening and her head becoming a little more erect on its -beautiful stem. - -I did not believe that you would let any circumstance of my birth -create a prejudice in you against me, though it was sure to do so in -others, said Will, shaking his head backward in his old way, and -looking with a grave appeal into her eyes. - -If it were a new hardship it would be a new reason for me to cling to -you, said Dorothea, fervidly. Nothing could have changed me but her -heart was swelling, and it was difficult to go on; she made a great -effort over herself to say in a low tremulous voice, but thinking that -you were differentnot so good as I had believed you to be. - -You are sure to believe me better than I am in everything but one, -said Will, giving way to his own feeling in the evidence of hers. I -mean, in my truth to you. When I thought you doubted of that, I didnt -care about anything that was left. I thought it was all over with me, -and there was nothing to try foronly things to endure. - -I dont doubt you any longer, said Dorothea, putting out her hand; a -vague fear for him impelling her unutterable affection. - -He took her hand and raised it to his lips with something like a sob. -But he stood with his hat and gloves in the other hand, and might have -done for the portrait of a Royalist. Still it was difficult to loose -the hand, and Dorothea, withdrawing it in a confusion that distressed -her, looked and moved away. - -See how dark the clouds have become, and how the trees are tossed, -she said, walking towards the window, yet speaking and moving with only -a dim sense of what she was doing. - -Will followed her at a little distance, and leaned against the tall -back of a leather chair, on which he ventured now to lay his hat and -gloves, and free himself from the intolerable durance of formality to -which he had been for the first time condemned in Dorotheas presence. -It must be confessed that he felt very happy at that moment leaning on -the chair. He was not much afraid of anything that she might feel now. - -They stood silent, not looking at each other, but looking at the -evergreens which were being tossed, and were showing the pale underside -of their leaves against the blackening sky. Will never enjoyed the -prospect of a storm so much: it delivered him from the necessity of -going away. Leaves and little branches were hurled about, and the -thunder was getting nearer. The light was more and more sombre, but -there came a flash of lightning which made them start and look at each -other, and then smile. Dorothea began to say what she had been thinking -of. - -That was a wrong thing for you to say, that you would have had nothing -to try for. If we had lost our own chief good, other peoples good -would remain, and that is worth trying for. Some can be happy. I seemed -to see that more clearly than ever, when I was the most wretched. I can -hardly think how I could have borne the trouble, if that feeling had -not come to me to make strength. - -You have never felt the sort of misery I felt, said Will; the misery -of knowing that you must despise me. - -But I have felt worseit was worse to think ill Dorothea had begun -impetuously, but broke off. - -Will colored. He had the sense that whatever she said was uttered in -the vision of a fatality that kept them apart. He was silent a moment, -and then said passionately - -We may at least have the comfort of speaking to each other without -disguise. Since I must go awaysince we must always be dividedyou may -think of me as one on the brink of the grave. - -While he was speaking there came a vivid flash of lightning which lit -each of them up for the otherand the light seemed to be the terror of -a hopeless love. Dorothea darted instantaneously from the window; Will -followed her, seizing her hand with a spasmodic movement; and so they -stood, with their hands clasped, like two children, looking out on the -storm, while the thunder gave a tremendous crack and roll above them, -and the rain began to pour down. Then they turned their faces towards -each other, with the memory of his last words in them, and they did not -loose each others hands. - -There is no hope for me, said Will. Even if you loved me as well as -I love youeven if I were everything to youI shall most likely always -be very poor: on a sober calculation, one can count on nothing but a -creeping lot. It is impossible for us ever to belong to each other. It -is perhaps base of me to have asked for a word from you. I meant to go -away into silence, but I have not been able to do what I meant. - -Dont be sorry, said Dorothea, in her clear tender tones. I would -rather share all the trouble of our parting. - -Her lips trembled, and so did his. It was never known which lips were -the first to move towards the other lips; but they kissed tremblingly, -and then they moved apart. - -The rain was dashing against the window-panes as if an angry spirit -were within it, and behind it was the great swoop of the wind; it was -one of those moments in which both the busy and the idle pause with a -certain awe. - -Dorothea sat down on the seat nearest to her, a long low ottoman in the -middle of the room, and with her hands folded over each other on her -lap, looked at the drear outer world. Will stood still an instant -looking at her, then seated himself beside her, and laid his hand on -hers, which turned itself upward to be clasped. They sat in that way -without looking at each other, until the rain abated and began to fall -in stillness. Each had been full of thoughts which neither of them -could begin to utter. - -But when the rain was quiet, Dorothea turned to look at Will. With -passionate exclamation, as if some torture screw were threatening him, -he started up and said, It is impossible! - -He went and leaned on the back of the chair again, and seemed to be -battling with his own anger, while she looked towards him sadly. - -It is as fatal as a murder or any other horror that divides people, -he burst out again; it is more intolerableto have our life maimed by -petty accidents. - -Nodont say thatyour life need not be maimed, said Dorothea, -gently. - -Yes, it must, said Will, angrily. It is cruel of you to speak in -that wayas if there were any comfort. You may see beyond the misery of -it, but I dont. It is unkindit is throwing back my love for you as if -it were a trifle, to speak in that way in the face of the fact. We can -never be married. - -Some timewe might, said Dorothea, in a trembling voice. - -When? said Will, bitterly. What is the use of counting on any -success of mine? It is a mere toss up whether I shall ever do more than -keep myself decently, unless I choose to sell myself as a mere pen and -a mouthpiece. I can see that clearly enough. I could not offer myself -to any woman, even if she had no luxuries to renounce. - -There was silence. Dorotheas heart was full of something that she -wanted to say, and yet the words were too difficult. She was wholly -possessed by them: at that moment debate was mute within her. And it -was very hard that she could not say what she wanted to say. Will was -looking out of the window angrily. If he would have looked at her and -not gone away from her side, she thought everything would have been -easier. At last he turned, still resting against the chair, and -stretching his hand automatically towards his hat, said with a sort of -exasperation, Good-by. - -Oh, I cannot bear itmy heart will break, said Dorothea, starting -from her seat, the flood of her young passion bearing down all the -obstructions which had kept her silentthe great tears rising and -falling in an instant: I dont mind about povertyI hate my wealth. - -In an instant Will was close to her and had his arms round her, but she -drew her head back and held his away gently that she might go on -speaking, her large tear-filled eyes looking at his very simply, while -she said in a sobbing childlike way, We could live quite well on my -own fortuneit is too muchseven hundred a-yearI want so littleno new -clothesand I will learn what everything costs. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXIV. - -Though it be songe of old and yonge, - That I sholde be to blame, -Theyrs be the charge, that spoke so large - In hurtynge of my name. -_The Not-Browne Mayde_. - - -It was just after the Lords had thrown out the Reform Bill: that -explains how Mr. Cadwallader came to be walking on the slope of the -lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, holding the Times -in his hands behind him, while he talked with a trout-fishers -dispassionateness about the prospects of the country to Sir James -Chettam. Mrs. Cadwallader, the Dowager Lady Chettam, and Celia were -sometimes seated on garden-chairs, sometimes walking to meet little -Arthur, who was being drawn in his chariot, and, as became the -infantine Bouddha, was sheltered by his sacred umbrella with handsome -silken fringe. - -The ladies also talked politics, though more fitfully. Mrs. Cadwallader -was strong on the intended creation of peers: she had it for certain -from her cousin that Truberry had gone over to the other side entirely -at the instigation of his wife, who had scented peerages in the air -from the very first introduction of the Reform question, and would sign -her soul away to take precedence of her younger sister, who had married -a baronet. Lady Chettam thought that such conduct was very -reprehensible, and remembered that Mrs. Truberrys mother was a Miss -Walsingham of Melspring. Celia confessed it was nicer to be Lady than -Mrs., and that Dodo never minded about precedence if she could have -her own way. Mrs. Cadwallader held that it was a poor satisfaction to -take precedence when everybody about you knew that you had not a drop -of good blood in your veins; and Celia again, stopping to look at -Arthur, said, It would be very nice, though, if he were a Viscountand -his lordships little tooth coming through! He might have been, if -James had been an Earl. - -My dear Celia, said the Dowager, Jamess title is worth far more -than any new earldom. I never wished his father to be anything else -than Sir James. - -Oh, I only meant about Arthurs little tooth, said Celia, -comfortably. But see, here is my uncle coming. - -She tripped off to meet her uncle, while Sir James and Mr. Cadwallader -came forward to make one group with the ladies. Celia had slipped her -arm through her uncles, and he patted her hand with a rather -melancholy Well, my dear! As they approached, it was evident that Mr. -Brooke was looking dejected, but this was fully accounted for by the -state of politics; and as he was shaking hands all round without more -greeting than a Well, youre all here, you know, the Rector said, -laughingly - -Dont take the throwing out of the Bill so much to heart, Brooke; -youve got all the riff-raff of the country on your side. - -The Bill, eh? ah! said Mr. Brooke, with a mild distractedness of -manner. Thrown out, you know, eh? The Lords are going too far, though. -Theyll have to pull up. Sad news, you know. I mean, here at homesad -news. But you must not blame me, Chettam. - -What is the matter? said Sir James. Not another gamekeeper shot, I -hope? Its what I should expect, when a fellow like Trapping Bass is -let off so easily. - -Gamekeeper? No. Let us go in; I can tell you all in the house, you -know, said Mr. Brooke, nodding at the Cadwalladers, to show that he -included them in his confidence. As to poachers like Trapping Bass, -you know, Chettam, he continued, as they were entering, when you are -a magistrate, youll not find it so easy to commit. Severity is all -very well, but its a great deal easier when youve got somebody to do -it for you. You have a soft place in your heart yourself, you -knowyoure not a Draco, a Jeffreys, that sort of thing. - -Mr. Brooke was evidently in a state of nervous perturbation. When he -had something painful to tell, it was usually his way to introduce it -among a number of disjointed particulars, as if it were a medicine that -would get a milder flavor by mixing. He continued his chat with Sir -James about the poachers until they were all seated, and Mrs. -Cadwallader, impatient of this drivelling, said - -Im dying to know the sad news. The gamekeeper is not shot: that is -settled. What is it, then? - -Well, its a very trying thing, you know, said Mr. Brooke. Im glad -you and the Rector are here; its a family matterbut you will help us -all to bear it, Cadwallader. Ive got to break it to you, my dear. -Here Mr. Brooke looked at CeliaYouve no notion what it is, you know. -And, Chettam, it will annoy you uncommonlybut, you see, you have not -been able to hinder it, any more than I have. Theres something -singular in things: they come round, you know. - -It must be about Dodo, said Celia, who had been used to think of her -sister as the dangerous part of the family machinery. She had seated -herself on a low stool against her husbands knee. - -For Gods sake let us hear what it is! said Sir James. - -Well, you know, Chettam, I couldnt help Casaubons will: it was a -sort of will to make things worse. - -Exactly, said Sir James, hastily. But _what_ is worse? - -Dorothea is going to be married again, you know, said Mr. Brooke, -nodding towards Celia, who immediately looked up at her husband with a -frightened glance, and put her hand on his knee. Sir James was almost -white with anger, but he did not speak. - -Merciful heaven! said Mrs. Cadwallader. Not to _young_ Ladislaw? - -Mr. Brooke nodded, saying, Yes; to Ladislaw, and then fell into a -prudential silence. - -You see, Humphrey! said Mrs. Cadwallader, waving her arm towards her -husband. Another time you will admit that I have some foresight; or -rather you will contradict me and be just as blind as ever. _You_ -supposed that the young gentleman was gone out of the country. - -So he might be, and yet come back, said the Rector, quietly. - -When did you learn this? said Sir James, not liking to hear any one -else speak, though finding it difficult to speak himself. - -Yesterday, said Mr. Brooke, meekly. I went to Lowick. Dorothea sent -for me, you know. It had come about quite suddenlyneither of them had -any idea two days agonot any idea, you know. Theres something -singular in things. But Dorothea is quite determinedit is no use -opposing. I put it strongly to her. I did my duty, Chettam. But she can -act as she likes, you know. - -It would have been better if I had called him out and shot him a year -ago, said Sir James, not from bloody-mindedness, but because he needed -something strong to say. - -Really, James, that would have been very disagreeable, said Celia. - -Be reasonable, Chettam. Look at the affair more quietly, said Mr. -Cadwallader, sorry to see his good-natured friend so overmastered by -anger. - -That is not so very easy for a man of any dignitywith any sense of -rightwhen the affair happens to be in his own family, said Sir James, -still in his white indignation. It is perfectly scandalous. If -Ladislaw had had a spark of honor he would have gone out of the country -at once, and never shown his face in it again. However, I am not -surprised. The day after Casaubons funeral I said what ought to be -done. But I was not listened to. - -You wanted what was impossible, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke. -You wanted him shipped off. I told you Ladislaw was not to be done as -we liked with: he had his ideas. He was a remarkable fellowI always -said he was a remarkable fellow. - -Yes, said Sir James, unable to repress a retort, it is rather a pity -you formed that high opinion of him. We are indebted to that for his -being lodged in this neighborhood. We are indebted to that for seeing a -woman like Dorothea degrading herself by marrying him. Sir James made -little stoppages between his clauses, the words not coming easily. A -man so marked out by her husbands will, that delicacy ought to have -forbidden her from seeing him againwho takes her out of her proper -rankinto povertyhas the meanness to accept such a sacrificehas -always had an objectionable positiona bad originand, _I believe_, is -a man of little principle and light character. That is my opinion. Sir -James ended emphatically, turning aside and crossing his leg. - -I pointed everything out to her, said Mr. Brooke, apologeticallyI -mean the poverty, and abandoning her position. I said, My dear, you -dont know what it is to live on seven hundred a-year, and have no -carriage, and that kind of thing, and go amongst people who dont know -who you are. I put it strongly to her. But I advise you to talk to -Dorothea herself. The fact is, she has a dislike to Casaubons -property. You will hear what she says, you know. - -Noexcuse meI shall not, said Sir James, with more coolness. I -cannot bear to see her again; it is too painful. It hurts me too much -that a woman like Dorothea should have done what is wrong. - -Be just, Chettam, said the easy, large-lipped Rector, who objected to -all this unnecessary discomfort. Mrs. Casaubon may be acting -imprudently: she is giving up a fortune for the sake of a man, and we -men have so poor an opinion of each other that we can hardly call a -woman wise who does that. But I think you should not condemn it as a -wrong action, in the strict sense of the word. - -Yes, I do, answered Sir James. I think that Dorothea commits a wrong -action in marrying Ladislaw. - -My dear fellow, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong because it -is unpleasant to us, said the Rector, quietly. Like many men who take -life easily, he had the knack of saying a home truth occasionally to -those who felt themselves virtuously out of temper. Sir James took out -his handkerchief and began to bite the corner. - -It is very dreadful of Dodo, though, said Celia, wishing to justify -her husband. She said she _never would_ marry againnot anybody at -all. - -I heard her say the same thing myself, said Lady Chettam, -majestically, as if this were royal evidence. - -Oh, there is usually a silent exception in such cases, said Mrs. -Cadwallader. The only wonder to me is, that any of you are surprised. -You did nothing to hinder it. If you would have had Lord Triton down -here to woo her with his philanthropy, he might have carried her off -before the year was over. There was no safety in anything else. Mr. -Casaubon had prepared all this as beautifully as possible. He made -himself disagreeableor it pleased God to make him soand then he dared -her to contradict him. Its the way to make any trumpery tempting, to -ticket it at a high price in that way. - -I dont know what you mean by wrong, Cadwallader, said Sir James, -still feeling a little stung, and turning round in his chair towards -the Rector. Hes not a man we can take into the family. At least, I -must speak for myself, he continued, carefully keeping his eyes off -Mr. Brooke. I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to -care about the propriety of the thing. - -Well, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke, good-humoredly, nursing his -leg, I cant turn my back on Dorothea. I must be a father to her up to -a certain point. I said, My dear, I wont refuse to give you away. I -had spoken strongly before. But I can cut off the entail, you know. It -will cost money and be troublesome; but I can do it, you know. - -Mr. Brooke nodded at Sir James, and felt that he was both showing his -own force of resolution and propitiating what was just in the Baronets -vexation. He had hit on a more ingenious mode of parrying than he was -aware of. He had touched a motive of which Sir James was ashamed. The -mass of his feeling about Dorotheas marriage to Ladislaw was due -partly to excusable prejudice, or even justifiable opinion, partly to a -jealous repugnance hardly less in Ladislaws case than in Casaubons. -He was convinced that the marriage was a fatal one for Dorothea. But -amid that mass ran a vein of which he was too good and honorable a man -to like the avowal even to himself: it was undeniable that the union of -the two estatesTipton and Freshittlying charmingly within a -ring-fence, was a prospect that flattered him for his son and heir. -Hence when Mr. Brooke noddingly appealed to that motive, Sir James felt -a sudden embarrassment; there was a stoppage in his throat; he even -blushed. He had found more words than usual in the first jet of his -anger, but Mr. Brookes propitiation was more clogging to his tongue -than Mr. Cadwalladers caustic hint. - -But Celia was glad to have room for speech after her uncles suggestion -of the marriage ceremony, and she said, though with as little eagerness -of manner as if the question had turned on an invitation to dinner, Do -you mean that Dodo is going to be married directly, uncle? - -In three weeks, you know, said Mr. Brooke, helplessly. I can do -nothing to hinder it, Cadwallader, he added, turning for a little -countenance toward the Rector, who said - -_I_ should not make any fuss about it. If she likes to be poor, that -is her affair. Nobody would have said anything if she had married the -young fellow because he was rich. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorer -than they will be. Here is Elinor, continued the provoking husband; -she vexed her friends by me: I had hardly a thousand a-yearI was a -loutnobody could see anything in memy shoes were not the right -cutall the men wondered how a woman could like me. Upon my word, I -must take Ladislaws part until I hear more harm of him. - -Humphrey, that is all sophistry, and you know it, said his wife. -Everything is all onethat is the beginning and end with you. As if -you had not been a Cadwallader! Does any one suppose that I would have -taken such a monster as you by any other name? - -And a clergyman too, observed Lady Chettam with approbation. Elinor -cannot be said to have descended below her rank. It is difficult to say -what Mr. Ladislaw is, eh, James? - -Sir James gave a small grunt, which was less respectful than his usual -mode of answering his mother. Celia looked up at him like a thoughtful -kitten. - -It must be admitted that his blood is a frightful mixture! said Mrs. -Cadwallader. The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and then a -rebellious Polish fiddler or dancing-master, was it?and then an old -clo - -Nonsense, Elinor, said the Rector, rising. It is time for us to go. - -After all, he is a pretty sprig, said Mrs. Cadwallader, rising too, -and wishing to make amends. He is like the fine old Crichley portraits -before the idiots came in. - -Ill go with you, said Mr. Brooke, starting up with alacrity. You -must all come and dine with me to-morrow, you knoweh, Celia, my dear? - -You will, Jameswont you? said Celia, taking her husbands hand. - -Oh, of course, if you like, said Sir James, pulling down his -waistcoat, but unable yet to adjust his face good-humoredly. That is -to say, if it is not to meet anybody else. - -No, no, no, said Mr. Brooke, understanding the condition. Dorothea -would not come, you know, unless you had been to see her. - -When Sir James and Celia were alone, she said, Do you mind about my -having the carriage to go to Lowick, James? - -What, now, directly? he answered, with some surprise. - -Yes, it is very important, said Celia. - -Remember, Celia, I cannot see her, said Sir James. - -Not if she gave up marrying? - -What is the use of saying that?however, Im going to the stables. -Ill tell Briggs to bring the carriage round. - -Celia thought it was of great use, if not to say that, at least to take -a journey to Lowick in order to influence Dorotheas mind. All through -their girlhood she had felt that she could act on her sister by a word -judiciously placedby opening a little window for the daylight of her -own understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by which -Dodo habitually saw. And Celia the matron naturally felt more able to -advise her childless sister. How could any one understand Dodo so well -as Celia did or love her so tenderly? - -Dorothea, busy in her boudoir, felt a glow of pleasure at the sight of -her sister so soon after the revelation of her intended marriage. She -had prefigured to herself, even with exaggeration, the disgust of her -friends, and she had even feared that Celia might be kept aloof from -her. - -O Kitty, I am delighted to see you! said Dorothea, putting her hands -on Celias shoulders, and beaming on her. I almost thought you would -not come to me. - -I have not brought Arthur, because I was in a hurry, said Celia, and -they sat down on two small chairs opposite each other, with their knees -touching. - -You know, Dodo, it is very bad, said Celia, in her placid guttural, -looking as prettily free from humors as possible. You have -disappointed us all so. And I cant think that it ever _will_ beyou -never can go and live in that way. And then there are all your plans! -You never can have thought of that. James would have taken any trouble -for you, and you might have gone on all your life doing what you -liked. - -On the contrary, dear, said Dorothea, I never could do anything that -I liked. I have never carried out any plan yet. - -Because you always wanted things that wouldnt do. But other plans -would have come. And how _can_ you marry Mr. Ladislaw, that we none of -us ever thought you _could_ marry? It shocks James so dreadfully. And -then it is all so different from what you have always been. You would -have Mr. Casaubon because he had such a great soul, and was so old and -dismal and learned; and now, to think of marrying Mr. Ladislaw, who has -got no estate or anything. I suppose it is because you must be making -yourself uncomfortable in some way or other. - -Dorothea laughed. - -Well, it is very serious, Dodo, said Celia, becoming more impressive. -How will you live? and you will go away among queer people. And I -shall never see youand you wont mind about little Arthurand I -thought you always would - -Celias rare tears had got into her eyes, and the corners of her mouth -were agitated. - -Dear Celia, said Dorothea, with tender gravity, if you dont ever -see me, it will not be my fault. - -Yes, it will, said Celia, with the same touching distortion of her -small features. How can I come to you or have you with me when James -cant bear it?that is because he thinks it is not righthe thinks you -are so wrong, Dodo. But you always were wrong: only I cant help loving -you. And nobody can think where you will live: where can you go? - -I am going to London, said Dorothea. - -How can you always live in a street? And you will be so poor. I could -give you half my things, only how can I, when I never see you? - -Bless you, Kitty, said Dorothea, with gentle warmth. Take comfort: -perhaps James will forgive me some time. - -But it would be much better if you would not be married, said Celia, -drying her eyes, and returning to her argument; then there would be -nothing uncomfortable. And you would not do what nobody thought you -could do. James always said you ought to be a queen; but this is not at -all being like a queen. You know what mistakes you have always been -making, Dodo, and this is another. Nobody thinks Mr. Ladislaw a proper -husband for you. And you _said_ you would never be married again. - -It is quite true that I might be a wiser person, Celia, said -Dorothea, and that I might have done something better, if I had been -better. But this is what I am going to do. I have promised to marry Mr. -Ladislaw; and I am going to marry him. - -The tone in which Dorothea said this was a note that Celia had long -learned to recognize. She was silent a few moments, and then said, as -if she had dismissed all contest, Is he very fond of you, Dodo? - -I hope so. I am very fond of him. - -That is nice, said Celia, comfortably. Only I would rather you had -such a sort of husband as James is, with a place very near, that I -could drive to. - -Dorothea smiled, and Celia looked rather meditative. Presently she -said, I cannot think how it all came about. Celia thought it would be -pleasant to hear the story. - -I dare say not, said Dorothea, pinching her sisters chin. If you -knew how it came about, it would not seem wonderful to you. - -Cant you tell me? said Celia, settling her arms cozily. - -No, dear, you would have to feel with me, else you would never know. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXV. - -Then went the jury out whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. -Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. -Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, Mr. Implacable, who -every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and -afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the -judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the foreman, said, I -see clearly that this man is a heretic. Then said Mr. No-good, Away -with such a fellow from the earth! Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the -very look of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. -Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose; for he would be always condemning my way. -Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind. -My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. -Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch -him out of the way said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might -I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to him; -therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death._Pilgrims -Progress_. - - -When immortal Bunyan makes his picture of the persecuting passions -bringing in their verdict of guilty, who pities Faithful? That is a -rare and blessed lot which some greatest men have not attained, to know -ourselves guiltless before a condemning crowdto be sure that what we -are denounced for is solely the good in us. The pitiable lot is that of -the man who could not call himself a martyr even though he were to -persuade himself that the men who stoned him were but ugly passions -incarnatewho knows that he is stoned, not for professing the Right, -but for not being the man he professed to be. - -This was the consciousness that Bulstrode was withering under while he -made his preparations for departing from Middlemarch, and going to end -his stricken life in that sad refuge, the indifference of new faces. -The duteous merciful constancy of his wife had delivered him from one -dread, but it could not hinder her presence from being still a tribunal -before which he shrank from confession and desired advocacy. His -equivocations with himself about the death of Raffles had sustained the -conception of an Omniscience whom he prayed to, yet he had a terror -upon him which would not let him expose them to judgment by a full -confession to his wife: the acts which he had washed and diluted with -inward argument and motive, and for which it seemed comparatively easy -to win invisible pardonwhat name would she call them by? That she -should ever silently call his acts Murder was what he could not bear. -He felt shrouded by her doubt: he got strength to face her from the -sense that she could not yet feel warranted in pronouncing that worst -condemnation on him. Some time, perhapswhen he was dyinghe would tell -her all: in the deep shadow of that time, when she held his hand in the -gathering darkness, she might listen without recoiling from his touch. -Perhaps: but concealment had been the habit of his life, and the -impulse to confession had no power against the dread of a deeper -humiliation. - -He was full of timid care for his wife, not only because he deprecated -any harshness of judgment from her, but because he felt a deep distress -at the sight of her suffering. She had sent her daughters away to board -at a school on the coast, that this crisis might be hidden from them as -far as possible. Set free by their absence from the intolerable -necessity of accounting for her grief or of beholding their frightened -wonder, she could live unconstrainedly with the sorrow that was every -day streaking her hair with whiteness and making her eyelids languid. - -Tell me anything that you would like to have me do, Harriet, -Bulstrode had said to her; I mean with regard to arrangements of -property. It is my intention not to sell the land I possess in this -neighborhood, but to leave it to you as a safe provision. If you have -any wish on such subjects, do not conceal it from me. - -A few days afterwards, when she had returned from a visit to her -brothers, she began to speak to her husband on a subject which had for -some time been in her mind. - -I _should_ like to do something for my brothers family, Nicholas; and -I think we are bound to make some amends to Rosamond and her husband. -Walter says Mr. Lydgate must leave the town, and his practice is almost -good for nothing, and they have very little left to settle anywhere -with. I would rather do without something for ourselves, to make some -amends to my poor brothers family. - -Mrs. Bulstrode did not wish to go nearer to the facts than in the -phrase make some amends; knowing that her husband must understand -her. He had a particular reason, which she was not aware of, for -wincing under her suggestion. He hesitated before he said - -It is not possible to carry out your wish in the way you propose, my -dear. Mr. Lydgate has virtually rejected any further service from me. -He has returned the thousand pounds which I lent him. Mrs. Casaubon -advanced him the sum for that purpose. Here is his letter. - -The letter seemed to cut Mrs. Bulstrode severely. The mention of Mrs. -Casaubons loan seemed a reflection of that public feeling which held -it a matter of course that every one would avoid a connection with her -husband. She was silent for some time; and the tears fell one after the -other, her chin trembling as she wiped them away. Bulstrode, sitting -opposite to her, ached at the sight of that grief-worn face, which two -months before had been bright and blooming. It had aged to keep sad -company with his own withered features. Urged into some effort at -comforting her, he said - -There is another means, Harriet, by which I might do a service to your -brothers family, if you like to act in it. And it would, I think, be -beneficial to you: it would be an advantageous way of managing the land -which I mean to be yours. - -She looked attentive. - -Garth once thought of undertaking the management of Stone Court in -order to place your nephew Fred there. The stock was to remain as it -is, and they were to pay a certain share of the profits instead of an -ordinary rent. That would be a desirable beginning for the young man, -in conjunction with his employment under Garth. Would it be a -satisfaction to you? - -Yes, it would, said Mrs. Bulstrode, with some return of energy. Poor -Walter is so cast down; I would try anything in my power to do him some -good before I go away. We have always been brother and sister. - -You must make the proposal to Garth yourself, Harriet, said Mr. -Bulstrode, not liking what he had to say, but desiring the end he had -in view, for other reasons besides the consolation of his wife. You -must state to him that the land is virtually yours, and that he need -have no transactions with me. Communications can be made through -Standish. I mention this, because Garth gave up being my agent. I can -put into your hands a paper which he himself drew up, stating -conditions; and you can propose his renewed acceptance of them. I think -it is not unlikely that he will accept when you propose the thing for -the sake of your nephew. - - - - -CHAPTER LXXXVI. - -Le cur se sature damour comme dun sel divin qui le conserve; de l -lincorruptible adhrence de ceux qui se sont aims ds laube de la -vie, et la fracheur des vielles amours prolonges. Il existe un -embaumement damour. Cest de Daphnis et Chlo que sont faits Philmon -et Baucis. Cette vieillesse-l, ressemblance du soir avec -laurore.VICTOR HUGO: _Lhomme qui rit_. - - -Mrs. Garth, hearing Caleb enter the passage about tea-time, opened the -parlor-door and said, There you are, Caleb. Have you had your dinner? -(Mr. Garths meals were much subordinated to business.) - -Oh yes, a good dinnercold mutton and I dont know what. Where is -Mary? - -In the garden with Letty, I think. - -Fred is not come yet? - -No. Are you going out again without taking tea, Caleb? said Mrs. -Garth, seeing that her absent-minded husband was putting on again the -hat which he had just taken off. - -No, no; Im only going to Mary a minute. - -Mary was in a grassy corner of the garden, where there was a swing -loftily hung between two pear-trees. She had a pink kerchief tied over -her head, making a little poke to shade her eyes from the level -sunbeams, while she was giving a glorious swing to Letty, who laughed -and screamed wildly. - -Seeing her father, Mary left the swing and went to meet him, pushing -back the pink kerchief and smiling afar off at him with the involuntary -smile of loving pleasure. - -I came to look for you, Mary, said Mr. Garth. Let us walk about a -bit. - -Mary knew quite well that her father had something particular to say: -his eyebrows made their pathetic angle, and there was a tender gravity -in his voice: these things had been signs to her when she was Lettys -age. She put her arm within his, and they turned by the row of -nut-trees. - -It will be a sad while before you can be married, Mary, said her -father, not looking at her, but at the end of the stick which he held -in his other hand. - -Not a sad while, fatherI mean to be merry, said Mary, laughingly. I -have been single and merry for four-and-twenty years and more: I -suppose it will not be quite as long again as that. Then, after a -little pause, she said, more gravely, bending her face before her -fathers, If you are contented with Fred? - -Caleb screwed up his mouth and turned his head aside wisely. - -Now, father, you did praise him last Wednesday. You said he had an -uncommon notion of stock, and a good eye for things. - -Did I? said Caleb, rather slyly. - -Yes, I put it all down, and the date, _anno Domini_, and everything, -said Mary. You like things to be neatly booked. And then his behavior -to you, father, is really good; he has a deep respect for you; and it -is impossible to have a better temper than Fred has. - -Ay, ay; you want to coax me into thinking him a fine match. - -No, indeed, father. I dont love him because he is a fine match. - -What for, then? - -Oh, dear, because I have always loved him. I should never like -scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in -a husband. - -Your mind is quite settled, then, Mary? said Caleb, returning to his -first tone. Theres no other wish come into it since things have been -going on as they have been of late? (Caleb meant a great deal in that -vague phrase;) because, better late than never. A woman must not force -her heartshell do a man no good by that. - -My feelings have not changed, father, said Mary, calmly. I shall be -constant to Fred as long as he is constant to me. I dont think either -of us could spare the other, or like any one else better, however much -we might admire them. It would make too great a difference to uslike -seeing all the old places altered, and changing the name for -everything. We must wait for each other a long while; but Fred knows -that. - -Instead of speaking immediately, Caleb stood still and screwed his -stick on the grassy walk. Then he said, with emotion in his voice, -Well, Ive got a bit of news. What do you think of Fred going to live -at Stone Court, and managing the land there? - -How can that ever be, father? said Mary, wonderingly. - -He would manage it for his aunt Bulstrode. The poor woman has been to -me begging and praying. She wants to do the lad good, and it might be a -fine thing for him. With saving, he might gradually buy the stock, and -he has a turn for farming. - -Oh, Fred would be so happy! It is too good to believe. - -Ah, but mind you, said Caleb, turning his head warningly, I must -take it on _my_ shoulders, and be responsible, and see after -everything; and that will grieve your mother a bit, though she maynt -say so. Fred had need be careful. - -Perhaps it is too much, father, said Mary, checked in her joy. There -would be no happiness in bringing you any fresh trouble. - -Nay, nay; work is my delight, child, when it doesnt vex your mother. -And then, if you and Fred get married, here Calebs voice shook just -perceptibly, hell be steady and saving; and youve got your mothers -cleverness, and mine too, in a womans sort of way; and youll keep him -in order. Hell be coming by-and-by, so I wanted to tell you first, -because I think youd like to tell _him_ by yourself. After that, I -could talk it well over with him, and we could go into business and the -nature of things. - -Oh, you dear good father! cried Mary, putting her hands round her -fathers neck, while he bent his head placidly, willing to be caressed. -I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the -world! - -Nonsense, child; youll think your husband better. - -Impossible, said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; husbands are -an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order. - -When they were entering the house with Letty, who had run to join them, -Mary saw Fred at the orchard-gate, and went to meet him. - -What fine clothes you wear, you extravagant youth! said Mary, as Fred -stood still and raised his hat to her with playful formality. You are -not learning economy. - -Now that is too bad, Mary, said Fred. Just look at the edges of -these coat-cuffs! It is only by dint of good brushing that I look -respectable. I am saving up three suitsone for a wedding-suit. - -How very droll you will look!like a gentleman in an old -fashion-book. - -Oh no, they will keep two years. - -Two years! be reasonable, Fred, said Mary, turning to walk. Dont -encourage flattering expectations. - -Why not? One lives on them better than on unflattering ones. If we -cant be married in two years, the truth will be quite bad enough when -it comes. - -I have heard a story of a young gentleman who once encouraged -flattering expectations, and they did him harm. - -Mary, if youve got something discouraging to tell me, I shall bolt; I -shall go into the house to Mr. Garth. I am out of spirits. My father is -so cut uphome is not like itself. I cant bear any more bad news. - -Should you call it bad news to be told that you were to live at Stone -Court, and manage the farm, and be remarkably prudent, and save money -every year till all the stock and furniture were your own, and you were -a distinguished agricultural character, as Mr. Borthrop Trumbull -saysrather stout, I fear, and with the Greek and Latin sadly -weather-worn? - -You dont mean anything except nonsense, Mary? said Fred, coloring -slightly nevertheless. - -That is what my father has just told me of as what may happen, and he -never talks nonsense, said Mary, looking up at Fred now, while he -grasped her hand as they walked, till it rather hurt her; but she would -not complain. - -Oh, I could be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary, and we could be -married directly. - -Not so fast, sir; how do you know that I would not rather defer our -marriage for some years? That would leave you time to misbehave, and -then if I liked some one else better, I should have an excuse for -jilting you. - -Pray dont joke, Mary, said Fred, with strong feeling. Tell me -seriously that all this is true, and that you are happy because of -itbecause you love me best. - -It is all true, Fred, and I am happy because of itbecause I love you -best, said Mary, in a tone of obedient recitation. - -They lingered on the door-step under the steep-roofed porch, and Fred -almost in a whisper said - -When we were first engaged, with the umbrella-ring, Mary, you used -to - -The spirit of joy began to laugh more decidedly in Marys eyes, but the -fatal Ben came running to the door with Brownie yapping behind him, -and, bouncing against them, said - -Fred and Mary! are you ever coming in?or may I eat your cake? - - - - -FINALE. - -Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending. Who can quit young -lives after being long in company with them, and not desire to know -what befell them in their after-years? For the fragment of a life, -however typical, is not the sample of an even web: promises may not be -kept, and an ardent outset may be followed by declension; latent powers -may find their long-waited opportunity; a past error may urge a grand -retrieval. - -Marriage, which has been the bourne of so many narratives, is still a -great beginning, as it was to Adam and Eve, who kept their honeymoon in -Eden, but had their first little one among the thorns and thistles of -the wilderness. It is still the beginning of the home epicthe gradual -conquest or irremediable loss of that complete union which makes the -advancing years a climax, and age the harvest of sweet memories in -common. - -Some set out, like Crusaders of old, with a glorious equipment of hope -and enthusiasm and get broken by the way, wanting patience with each -other and the world. - -All who have cared for Fred Vincy and Mary Garth will like to know that -these two made no such failure, but achieved a solid mutual happiness. -Fred surprised his neighbors in various ways. He became rather -distinguished in his side of the county as a theoretic and practical -farmer, and produced a work on the Cultivation of Green Crops and the -Economy of Cattle-Feeding which won him high congratulations at -agricultural meetings. In Middlemarch admiration was more reserved: -most persons there were inclined to believe that the merit of Freds -authorship was due to his wife, since they had never expected Fred -Vincy to write on turnips and mangel-wurzel. - -But when Mary wrote a little book for her boys, called Stories of -Great Men, taken from Plutarch, and had it printed and published by -Gripp & Co., Middlemarch, every one in the town was willing to give the -credit of this work to Fred, observing that he had been to the -University, where the ancients were studied, and might have been a -clergyman if he had chosen. - -In this way it was made clear that Middlemarch had never been deceived, -and that there was no need to praise anybody for writing a book, since -it was always done by somebody else. - -Moreover, Fred remained unswervingly steady. Some years after his -marriage he told Mary that his happiness was half owing to Farebrother, -who gave him a strong pull-up at the right moment. I cannot say that he -was never again misled by his hopefulness: the yield of crops or the -profits of a cattle sale usually fell below his estimate; and he was -always prone to believe that he could make money by the purchase of a -horse which turned out badlythough this, Mary observed, was of course -the fault of the horse, not of Freds judgment. He kept his love of -horsemanship, but he rarely allowed himself a days hunting; and when -he did so, it was remarkable that he submitted to be laughed at for -cowardliness at the fences, seeming to see Mary and the boys sitting on -the five-barred gate, or showing their curly heads between hedge and -ditch. - -There were three boys: Mary was not discontented that she brought forth -men-children only; and when Fred wished to have a girl like her, she -said, laughingly, that would be too great a trial to your mother. -Mrs. Vincy in her declining years, and in the diminished lustre of her -housekeeping, was much comforted by her perception that two at least of -Freds boys were real Vincys, and did not feature the Garths. But -Mary secretly rejoiced that the youngest of the three was very much -what her father must have been when he wore a round jacket, and showed -a marvellous nicety of aim in playing at marbles, or in throwing stones -to bring down the mellow pears. - -Ben and Letty Garth, who were uncle and aunt before they were well in -their teens, disputed much as to whether nephews or nieces were more -desirable; Ben contending that it was clear girls were good for less -than boys, else they would not be always in petticoats, which showed -how little they were meant for; whereupon Letty, who argued much from -books, got angry in replying that God made coats of skins for both Adam -and Eve alikealso it occurred to her that in the East the men too wore -petticoats. But this latter argument, obscuring the majesty of the -former, was one too many, for Ben answered contemptuously, The more -spooneys they! and immediately appealed to his mother whether boys -were not better than girls. Mrs. Garth pronounced that both were alike -naughty, but that boys were undoubtedly stronger, could run faster, and -throw with more precision to a greater distance. With this oracular -sentence Ben was well satisfied, not minding the naughtiness; but Letty -took it ill, her feeling of superiority being stronger than her -muscles. - -Fred never became richhis hopefulness had not led him to expect that; -but he gradually saved enough to become owner of the stock and -furniture at Stone Court, and the work which Mr. Garth put into his -hands carried him in plenty through those bad times which are always -present with farmers. Mary, in her matronly days, became as solid in -figure as her mother; but, unlike her, gave the boys little formal -teaching, so that Mrs. Garth was alarmed lest they should never be well -grounded in grammar and geography. Nevertheless, they were found quite -forward enough when they went to school; perhaps, because they had -liked nothing so well as being with their mother. When Fred was riding -home on winter evenings he had a pleasant vision beforehand of the -bright hearth in the wainscoted parlor, and was sorry for other men who -could not have Mary for their wife; especially for Mr. Farebrother. He -was ten times worthier of you than I was, Fred could now say to her, -magnanimously. To be sure he was, Mary answered; and for that reason -he could do better without me. But youI shudder to think what you -would have beena curate in debt for horse-hire and cambric -pocket-handkerchiefs! - -On inquiry it might possibly be found that Fred and Mary still inhabit -Stone Courtthat the creeping plants still cast the foam of their -blossoms over the fine stone-wall into the field where the walnut-trees -stand in stately rowand that on sunny days the two lovers who were -first engaged with the umbrella-ring may be seen in white-haired -placidity at the open window from which Mary Garth, in the days of old -Peter Featherstone, had often been ordered to look out for Mr. Lydgate. - -Lydgates hair never became white. He died when he was only fifty, -leaving his wife and children provided for by a heavy insurance on his -life. He had gained an excellent practice, alternating, according to -the season, between London and a Continental bathing-place; having -written a treatise on Gout, a disease which has a good deal of wealth -on its side. His skill was relied on by many paying patients, but he -always regarded himself as a failure: he had not done what he once -meant to do. His acquaintances thought him enviable to have so charming -a wife, and nothing happened to shake their opinion. Rosamond never -committed a second compromising indiscretion. She simply continued to -be mild in her temper, inflexible in her judgment, disposed to admonish -her husband, and able to frustrate him by stratagem. As the years went -on he opposed her less and less, whence Rosamond concluded that he had -learned the value of her opinion; on the other hand, she had a more -thorough conviction of his talents now that he gained a good income, -and instead of the threatened cage in Bride Street provided one all -flowers and gilding, fit for the bird of paradise that she resembled. -In brief, Lydgate was what is called a successful man. But he died -prematurely of diphtheria, and Rosamond afterwards married an elderly -and wealthy physician, who took kindly to her four children. She made a -very pretty show with her daughters, driving out in her carriage, and -often spoke of her happiness as a rewardshe did not say for what, -but probably she meant that it was a reward for her patience with -Tertius, whose temper never became faultless, and to the last -occasionally let slip a bitter speech which was more memorable than the -signs he made of his repentance. He once called her his basil plant; -and when she asked for an explanation, said that basil was a plant -which had flourished wonderfully on a murdered mans brains. Rosamond -had a placid but strong answer to such speeches. Why then had he chosen -her? It was a pity he had not had Mrs. Ladislaw, whom he was always -praising and placing above her. And thus the conversation ended with -the advantage on Rosamonds side. But it would be unjust not to tell, -that she never uttered a word in depreciation of Dorothea, keeping in -religious remembrance the generosity which had come to her aid in the -sharpest crisis of her life. - -Dorothea herself had no dreams of being praised above other women, -feeling that there was always something better which she might have -done, if she had only been better and known better. Still, she never -repented that she had given up position and fortune to marry Will -Ladislaw, and he would have held it the greatest shame as well as -sorrow to him if she had repented. They were bound to each other by a -love stronger than any impulses which could have marred it. No life -would have been possible to Dorothea which was not filled with emotion, -and she had now a life filled also with a beneficent activity which she -had not the doubtful pains of discovering and marking out for herself. -Will became an ardent public man, working well in those times when -reforms were begun with a young hopefulness of immediate good which has -been much checked in our days, and getting at last returned to -Parliament by a constituency who paid his expenses. Dorothea could have -liked nothing better, since wrongs existed, than that her husband -should be in the thick of a struggle against them, and that she should -give him wifely help. Many who knew her, thought it a pity that so -substantive and rare a creature should have been absorbed into the life -of another, and be only known in a certain circle as a wife and mother. -But no one stated exactly what else that was in her power she ought -rather to have donenot even Sir James Chettam, who went no further -than the negative prescription that she ought not to have married Will -Ladislaw. - -But this opinion of his did not cause a lasting alienation; and the way -in which the family was made whole again was characteristic of all -concerned. Mr. Brooke could not resist the pleasure of corresponding -with Will and Dorothea; and one morning when his pen had been -remarkably fluent on the prospects of Municipal Reform, it ran off into -an invitation to the Grange, which, once written, could not be done -away with at less cost than the sacrifice (hardly to be conceived) of -the whole valuable letter. During the months of this correspondence Mr. -Brooke had continually, in his talk with Sir James Chettam, been -presupposing or hinting that the intention of cutting off the entail -was still maintained; and the day on which his pen gave the daring -invitation, he went to Freshitt expressly to intimate that he had a -stronger sense than ever of the reasons for taking that energetic step -as a precaution against any mixture of low blood in the heir of the -Brookes. - -But that morning something exciting had happened at the Hall. A letter -had come to Celia which made her cry silently as she read it; and when -Sir James, unused to see her in tears, asked anxiously what was the -matter, she burst out in a wail such as he had never heard from her -before. - -Dorothea has a little boy. And you will not let me go and see her. And -I am sure she wants to see me. And she will not know what to do with -the babyshe will do wrong things with it. And they thought she would -die. It is very dreadful! Suppose it had been me and little Arthur, and -Dodo had been hindered from coming to see me! I wish you would be less -unkind, James! - -Good heavens, Celia! said Sir James, much wrought upon, what do you -wish? I will do anything you like. I will take you to town to-morrow if -you wish it. And Celia did wish it. - -It was after this that Mr. Brooke came, and meeting the Baronet in the -grounds, began to chat with him in ignorance of the news, which Sir -James for some reason did not care to tell him immediately. But when -the entail was touched on in the usual way, he said, My dear sir, it -is not for me to dictate to you, but for my part I would let that -alone. I would let things remain as they are. - -Mr. Brooke felt so much surprised that he did not at once find out how -much he was relieved by the sense that he was not expected to do -anything in particular. - -Such being the bent of Celias heart, it was inevitable that Sir James -should consent to a reconciliation with Dorothea and her husband. Where -women love each other, men learn to smother their mutual dislike. Sir -James never liked Ladislaw, and Will always preferred to have Sir -Jamess company mixed with another kind: they were on a footing of -reciprocal tolerance which was made quite easy only when Dorothea and -Celia were present. - -It became an understood thing that Mr. and Mrs. Ladislaw should pay at -least two visits during the year to the Grange, and there came -gradually a small row of cousins at Freshitt who enjoyed playing with -the two cousins visiting Tipton as much as if the blood of these -cousins had been less dubiously mixed. - -Mr. Brooke lived to a good old age, and his estate was inherited by -Dorotheas son, who might have represented Middlemarch, but declined, -thinking that his opinions had less chance of being stifled if he -remained out of doors. - -Sir James never ceased to regard Dorotheas second marriage as a -mistake; and indeed this remained the tradition concerning it in -Middlemarch, where she was spoken of to a younger generation as a fine -girl who married a sickly clergyman, old enough to be her father, and -in little more than a year after his death gave up her estate to marry -his cousinyoung enough to have been his son, with no property, and not -well-born. Those who had not seen anything of Dorothea usually observed -that she could not have been a nice woman, else she would not have -married either the one or the other. - -Certainly those determining acts of her life were not ideally -beautiful. They were the mixed result of young and noble impulse -struggling amidst the conditions of an imperfect social state, in which -great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the -aspect of illusion. For there is no creature whose inward being is so -strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new -Theresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual -life, any more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in -daring all for the sake of a brothers burial: the medium in which -their ardent deeds took shape is forever gone. But we insignificant -people with our daily words and acts are preparing the lives of many -Dorotheas, some of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that -of the Dorothea whose story we know. - -Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were -not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus -broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on -the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was -incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly -dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you -and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived -faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs. - -THE END - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDDLEMARCH *** - - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous onethe old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given awayyou may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE - -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase Project -Gutenberg), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (the -Foundation or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work -on which the phrase Project Gutenberg appears, or with which the -phrase Project Gutenberg is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at www.gutenberg.org. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase Project -Gutenberg associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format -other than Plain Vanilla ASCII or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original Plain -Vanilla ASCII or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works -provided that: - - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation. - - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg - works. - - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg works. - - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain Defects, such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the Right -of Replacement or Refund described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you AS-IS, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg - -Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenbergs -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundations EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your states laws. - -The Foundations business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundations website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org. - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - +Hallo Welt, ich bin die Beatrice +und hier habe ich eine tolle Besipieldatei. +Diese ist für meine noch tollerer Hausaufgabe im Modul Rechnernetze und verteilte Systeme! diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt.bak b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt.bak new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02e278d --- /dev/null +++ b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/book_1.txt.bak @@ -0,0 +1,33654 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Middlemarch + +This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online +at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, +you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located +before using this eBook. + +Title: Middlemarch + +Author: George Eliot + +Release date: July 1, 1994 [eBook #145] + Most recently updated: October 29, 2024 + +Language: English + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDDLEMARCH *** +Middlemarch + +George Eliot + +New York and Boston +H. M. Caldwell Company Publishers + +To my dear Husband, George Henry Lewes, +in this nineteenth year of our blessed union. + + +Contents + + PRELUDE. + + BOOK I. MISS BROOKE. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + + BOOK II. OLD AND YOUNG. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + CHAPTER XXI. + CHAPTER XXII. + + BOOK III. WAITING FOR DEATH. + CHAPTER XXIII. + CHAPTER XXIV. + CHAPTER XXV. + CHAPTER XXVI. + CHAPTER XXVII. + CHAPTER XXVIII. + CHAPTER XXIX. + CHAPTER XXX. + CHAPTER XXXI. + CHAPTER XXXII. + CHAPTER XXXIII. + + BOOK IV. THREE LOVE PROBLEMS. + CHAPTER XXXIV. + CHAPTER XXXV. + CHAPTER XXXVI. + CHAPTER XXXVII. + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + CHAPTER XXXIX. + CHAPTER XL. + CHAPTER XLI. + CHAPTER XLII. + + BOOK V. THE DEAD HAND. + CHAPTER XLIII. + CHAPTER XLIV. + CHAPTER XLV. + CHAPTER XLVI. + CHAPTER XLVII. + CHAPTER XLVIII. + CHAPTER XLIX. + CHAPTER L. + CHAPTER LI. + CHAPTER LII. + + BOOK VI. THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. + CHAPTER LIII. + CHAPTER LIV. + CHAPTER LV. + CHAPTER LVI. + CHAPTER LVII. + CHAPTER LVIII. + CHAPTER LIX. + CHAPTER LX. + CHAPTER LXI. + CHAPTER LXII. + + BOOK VII. TWO TEMPTATIONS. + CHAPTER LXIII. + CHAPTER LXIV. + CHAPTER LXV. + CHAPTER LXVI. + CHAPTER LXVII. + CHAPTER LXVIII. + CHAPTER LXIX. + CHAPTER LXX. + CHAPTER LXXI. + + BOOK VIII. SUNSET AND SUNRISE. + CHAPTER LXXII. + CHAPTER LXXIII. + CHAPTER LXXIV. + CHAPTER LXXV. + CHAPTER LXXVI. + CHAPTER LXXVII. + CHAPTER LXXVIII. + CHAPTER LXXIX. + CHAPTER LXXX. + CHAPTER LXXXI. + CHAPTER LXXXII. + CHAPTER LXXXIII. + CHAPTER LXXXIV. + CHAPTER LXXXV. + CHAPTER LXXXVI. + + FINALE. + + + + +PRELUDE. + + +Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious +mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, +at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with +some gentleness at the thought of the little girl walking forth one +morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go and seek +martyrdom in the country of the Moors? Out they toddled from rugged +Avila, wide-eyed and helpless-looking as two fawns, but with human +hearts, already beating to a national idea; until domestic reality met +them in the shape of uncles, and turned them back from their great +resolve. That child-pilgrimage was a fit beginning. Theresas +passionate, ideal nature demanded an epic life: what were many-volumed +romances of chivalry and the social conquests of a brilliant girl to +her? Her flame quickly burned up that light fuel; and, fed from within, +soared after some illimitable satisfaction, some object which would +never justify weariness, which would reconcile self-despair with the +rapturous consciousness of life beyond self. She found her epos in the +reform of a religious order. + +That Spanish woman who lived three hundred years ago, was certainly not +the last of her kind. Many Theresas have been born who found for +themselves no epic life wherein there was a constant unfolding of +far-resonant action; perhaps only a life of mistakes, the offspring of +a certain spiritual grandeur ill-matched with the meanness of +opportunity; perhaps a tragic failure which found no sacred poet and +sank unwept into oblivion. With dim lights and tangled circumstance +they tried to shape their thought and deed in noble agreement; but +after all, to common eyes their struggles seemed mere inconsistency and +formlessness; for these later-born Theresas were helped by no coherent +social faith and order which could perform the function of knowledge +for the ardently willing soul. Their ardor alternated between a vague +ideal and the common yearning of womanhood; so that the one was +disapproved as extravagance, and the other condemned as a lapse. + +Some have felt that these blundering lives are due to the inconvenient +indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures +of women: if there were one level of feminine incompetence as strict as +the ability to count three and no more, the social lot of women might +be treated with scientific certitude. Meanwhile the indefiniteness +remains, and the limits of variation are really much wider than any one +would imagine from the sameness of womens coiffure and the favorite +love-stories in prose and verse. Here and there a cygnet is reared +uneasily among the ducklings in the brown pond, and never finds the +living stream in fellowship with its own oary-footed kind. Here and +there is born a Saint Theresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving +heart-beats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are +dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some +long-recognizable deed. + + + + +BOOK I. +MISS BROOKE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Since I can do no good because a woman, +Reach constantly at something that is near it. + _The Maids Tragedy:_ BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. + + +Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into +relief by poor dress. Her hand and wrist were so finely formed that she +could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those in which the +Blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters; and her profile as well as +her stature and bearing seemed to gain the more dignity from her plain +garments, which by the side of provincial fashion gave her the +impressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible,or from one of our +elder poets,in a paragraph of to-days newspaper. She was usually +spoken of as being remarkably clever, but with the addition that her +sister Celia had more common-sense. Nevertheless, Celia wore scarcely +more trimmings; and it was only to close observers that her dress +differed from her sisters, and had a shade of coquetry in its +arrangements; for Miss Brookes plain dressing was due to mixed +conditions, in most of which her sister shared. The pride of being +ladies had something to do with it: the Brooke connections, though not +exactly aristocratic, were unquestionably good: if you inquired +backward for a generation or two, you would not find any yard-measuring +or parcel-tying forefathersanything lower than an admiral or a +clergyman; and there was even an ancestor discernible as a Puritan +gentleman who served under Cromwell, but afterwards conformed, and +managed to come out of all political troubles as the proprietor of a +respectable family estate. Young women of such birth, living in a quiet +country-house, and attending a village church hardly larger than a +parlor, naturally regarded frippery as the ambition of a hucksters +daughter. Then there was well-bred economy, which in those days made +show in dress the first item to be deducted from, when any margin was +required for expenses more distinctive of rank. Such reasons would have +been enough to account for plain dress, quite apart from religious +feeling; but in Miss Brookes case, religion alone would have +determined it; and Celia mildly acquiesced in all her sisters +sentiments, only infusing them with that common-sense which is able to +accept momentous doctrines without any eccentric agitation. Dorothea +knew many passages of Pascals Pensees and of Jeremy Taylor by heart; +and to her the destinies of mankind, seen by the light of Christianity, +made the solicitudes of feminine fashion appear an occupation for +Bedlam. She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life +involving eternal consequences, with a keen interest in gimp and +artificial protrusions of drapery. Her mind was theoretic, and yearned +by its nature after some lofty conception of the world which might +frankly include the parish of Tipton and her own rule of conduct there; +she was enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing +whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, +to make retractations, and then to incur martyrdom after all in a +quarter where she had not sought it. Certainly such elements in the +character of a marriageable girl tended to interfere with her lot, and +hinder it from being decided according to custom, by good looks, +vanity, and merely canine affection. With all this, she, the elder of +the sisters, was not yet twenty, and they had both been educated, since +they were about twelve years old and had lost their parents, on plans +at once narrow and promiscuous, first in an English family and +afterwards in a Swiss family at Lausanne, their bachelor uncle and +guardian trying in this way to remedy the disadvantages of their +orphaned condition. + +It was hardly a year since they had come to live at Tipton Grange with +their uncle, a man nearly sixty, of acquiescent temper, miscellaneous +opinions, and uncertain vote. He had travelled in his younger years, +and was held in this part of the county to have contracted a too +rambling habit of mind. Mr. Brookes conclusions were as difficult to +predict as the weather: it was only safe to say that he would act with +benevolent intentions, and that he would spend as little money as +possible in carrying them out. For the most glutinously indefinite +minds enclose some hard grains of habit; and a man has been seen lax +about all his own interests except the retention of his snuff-box, +concerning which he was watchful, suspicious, and greedy of clutch. + +In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in +abeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and +virtues, turning sometimes into impatience of her uncles talk or his +way of letting things be on his estate, and making her long all the +more for the time when she would be of age and have some command of +money for generous schemes. She was regarded as an heiress; for not +only had the sisters seven hundred a-year each from their parents, but +if Dorothea married and had a son, that son would inherit Mr. Brookes +estate, presumably worth about three thousand a-yeara rental which +seemed wealth to provincial families, still discussing Mr. Peels late +conduct on the Catholic question, innocent of future gold-fields, and +of that gorgeous plutocracy which has so nobly exalted the necessities +of genteel life. + +And how should Dorothea not marry?a girl so handsome and with such +prospects? Nothing could hinder it but her love of extremes, and her +insistence on regulating life according to notions which might cause a +wary man to hesitate before he made her an offer, or even might lead +her at last to refuse all offers. A young lady of some birth and +fortune, who knelt suddenly down on a brick floor by the side of a sick +laborer and prayed fervidly as if she thought herself living in the +time of the Apostleswho had strange whims of fasting like a Papist, +and of sitting up at night to read old theological books! Such a wife +might awaken you some fine morning with a new scheme for the +application of her income which would interfere with political economy +and the keeping of saddle-horses: a man would naturally think twice +before he risked himself in such fellowship. Women were expected to +have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and of domestic +life was, that opinions were not acted on. Sane people did what their +neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know +and avoid them. + +The rural opinion about the new young ladies, even among the cottagers, +was generally in favor of Celia, as being so amiable and +innocent-looking, while Miss Brookes large eyes seemed, like her +religion, too unusual and striking. Poor Dorothea! compared with her, +the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise; so much +subtler is a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of +blazonry or clock-face for it. + +Yet those who approached Dorothea, though prejudiced against her by +this alarming hearsay, found that she had a charm unaccountably +reconcilable with it. Most men thought her bewitching when she was on +horseback. She loved the fresh air and the various aspects of the +country, and when her eyes and cheeks glowed with mingled pleasure she +looked very little like a devotee. Riding was an indulgence which she +allowed herself in spite of conscientious qualms; she felt that she +enjoyed it in a pagan sensuous way, and always looked forward to +renouncing it. + +She was open, ardent, and not in the least self-admiring; indeed, it +was pretty to see how her imagination adorned her sister Celia with +attractions altogether superior to her own, and if any gentleman +appeared to come to the Grange from some other motive than that of +seeing Mr. Brooke, she concluded that he must be in love with Celia: +Sir James Chettam, for example, whom she constantly considered from +Celias point of view, inwardly debating whether it would be good for +Celia to accept him. That he should be regarded as a suitor to herself +would have seemed to her a ridiculous irrelevance. Dorothea, with all +her eagerness to know the truths of life, retained very childlike ideas +about marriage. She felt sure that she would have accepted the +judicious Hooker, if she had been born in time to save him from that +wretched mistake he made in matrimony; or John Milton when his +blindness had come on; or any of the other great men whose odd habits +it would have been glorious piety to endure; but an amiable handsome +baronet, who said Exactly to her remarks even when she expressed +uncertainty,how could he affect her as a lover? The really delightful +marriage must be that where your husband was a sort of father, and +could teach you even Hebrew, if you wished it. + +These peculiarities of Dorotheas character caused Mr. Brooke to be all +the more blamed in neighboring families for not securing some +middle-aged lady as guide and companion to his nieces. But he himself +dreaded so much the sort of superior woman likely to be available for +such a position, that he allowed himself to be dissuaded by Dorotheas +objections, and was in this case brave enough to defy the worldthat is +to say, Mrs. Cadwallader the Rectors wife, and the small group of +gentry with whom he visited in the northeast corner of Loamshire. So +Miss Brooke presided in her uncles household, and did not at all +dislike her new authority, with the homage that belonged to it. + +Sir James Chettam was going to dine at the Grange to-day with another +gentleman whom the girls had never seen, and about whom Dorothea felt +some venerating expectation. This was the Reverend Edward Casaubon, +noted in the county as a man of profound learning, understood for many +years to be engaged on a great work concerning religious history; also +as a man of wealth enough to give lustre to his piety, and having views +of his own which were to be more clearly ascertained on the publication +of his book. His very name carried an impressiveness hardly to be +measured without a precise chronology of scholarship. + +Early in the day Dorothea had returned from the infant school which she +had set going in the village, and was taking her usual place in the +pretty sitting-room which divided the bedrooms of the sisters, bent on +finishing a plan for some buildings (a kind of work which she delighted +in), when Celia, who had been watching her with a hesitating desire to +propose something, said + +Dorothea, dear, if you dont mindif you are not very busysuppose we +looked at mammas jewels to-day, and divided them? It is exactly six +months to-day since uncle gave them to you, and you have not looked at +them yet. + +Celias face had the shadow of a pouting expression in it, the full +presence of the pout being kept back by an habitual awe of Dorothea and +principle; two associated facts which might show a mysterious +electricity if you touched them incautiously. To her relief, Dorotheas +eyes were full of laughter as she looked up. + +What a wonderful little almanac you are, Celia! Is it six calendar or +six lunar months? + +It is the last day of September now, and it was the first of April +when uncle gave them to you. You know, he said that he had forgotten +them till then. I believe you have never thought of them since you +locked them up in the cabinet here. + +Well, dear, we should never wear them, you know. Dorothea spoke in a +full cordial tone, half caressing, half explanatory. She had her pencil +in her hand, and was making tiny side-plans on a margin. + +Celia colored, and looked very grave. I think, dear, we are wanting in +respect to mammas memory, to put them by and take no notice of them. +And, she added, after hesitating a little, with a rising sob of +mortification, necklaces are quite usual now; and Madame Poincon, who +was stricter in some things even than you are, used to wear ornaments. +And Christians generallysurely there are women in heaven now who wore +jewels. Celia was conscious of some mental strength when she really +applied herself to argument. + +You would like to wear them? exclaimed Dorothea, an air of astonished +discovery animating her whole person with a dramatic action which she +had caught from that very Madame Poincon who wore the ornaments. Of +course, then, let us have them out. Why did you not tell me before? But +the keys, the keys! She pressed her hands against the sides of her +head and seemed to despair of her memory. + +They are here, said Celia, with whom this explanation had been long +meditated and prearranged. + +Pray open the large drawer of the cabinet and get out the jewel-box. + +The casket was soon open before them, and the various jewels spread +out, making a bright parterre on the table. It was no great collection, +but a few of the ornaments were really of remarkable beauty, the finest +that was obvious at first being a necklace of purple amethysts set in +exquisite gold work, and a pearl cross with five brilliants in it. +Dorothea immediately took up the necklace and fastened it round her +sisters neck, where it fitted almost as closely as a bracelet; but the +circle suited the Henrietta-Maria style of Celias head and neck, and +she could see that it did, in the pier-glass opposite. + +There, Celia! you can wear that with your Indian muslin. But this +cross you must wear with your dark dresses. + +Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. O Dodo, you must keep the +cross yourself. + +No, no, dear, no, said Dorothea, putting up her hand with careless +deprecation. + +Yes, indeed you must; it would suit youin your black dress, now, +said Celia, insistingly. You _might_ wear that. + +Not for the world, not for the world. A cross is the last thing I +would wear as a trinket. Dorothea shuddered slightly. + +Then you will think it wicked in me to wear it, said Celia, uneasily. + +No, dear, no, said Dorothea, stroking her sisters cheek. Souls have +complexions too: what will suit one will not suit another. + +But you might like to keep it for mammas sake. + +No, I have other things of mammasher sandal-wood box which I am so +fond ofplenty of things. In fact, they are all yours, dear. We need +discuss them no longer. Theretake away your property. + +Celia felt a little hurt. There was a strong assumption of superiority +in this Puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh of +an unenthusiastic sister than a Puritanic persecution. + +But how can I wear ornaments if you, who are the elder sister, will +never wear them? + +Nay, Celia, that is too much to ask, that I should wear trinkets to +keep you in countenance. If I were to put on such a necklace as that, I +should feel as if I had been pirouetting. The world would go round with +me, and I should not know how to walk. + +Celia had unclasped the necklace and drawn it off. It would be a +little tight for your neck; something to lie down and hang would suit +you better, she said, with some satisfaction. The complete unfitness +of the necklace from all points of view for Dorothea, made Celia +happier in taking it. She was opening some ring-boxes, which disclosed +a fine emerald with diamonds, and just then the sun passing beyond a +cloud sent a bright gleam over the table. + +How very beautiful these gems are! said Dorothea, under a new current +of feeling, as sudden as the gleam. It is strange how deeply colors +seem to penetrate one, like scent. I suppose that is the reason why +gems are used as spiritual emblems in the Revelation of St. John. They +look like fragments of heaven. I think that emerald is more beautiful +than any of them. + +And there is a bracelet to match it, said Celia. We did not notice +this at first. + +They are lovely, said Dorothea, slipping the ring and bracelet on her +finely turned finger and wrist, and holding them towards the window on +a level with her eyes. All the while her thought was trying to justify +her delight in the colors by merging them in her mystic religious joy. + +You _would_ like those, Dorothea, said Celia, rather falteringly, +beginning to think with wonder that her sister showed some weakness, +and also that emeralds would suit her own complexion even better than +purple amethysts. You must keep that ring and braceletif nothing +else. But see, these agates are very pretty and quiet. + +Yes! I will keep thesethis ring and bracelet, said Dorothea. Then, +letting her hand fall on the table, she said in another toneYet what +miserable men find such things, and work at them, and sell them! She +paused again, and Celia thought that her sister was going to renounce +the ornaments, as in consistency she ought to do. + +Yes, dear, I will keep these, said Dorothea, decidedly. But take all +the rest away, and the casket. + +She took up her pencil without removing the jewels, and still looking +at them. She thought of often having them by her, to feed her eye at +these little fountains of pure color. + +Shall you wear them in company? said Celia, who was watching her with +real curiosity as to what she would do. + +Dorothea glanced quickly at her sister. Across all her imaginative +adornment of those whom she loved, there darted now and then a keen +discernment, which was not without a scorching quality. If Miss Brooke +ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward +fire. + +Perhaps, she said, rather haughtily. I cannot tell to what level I +may sink. + +Celia blushed, and was unhappy: she saw that she had offended her +sister, and dared not say even anything pretty about the gift of the +ornaments which she put back into the box and carried away. Dorothea +too was unhappy, as she went on with her plan-drawing, questioning the +purity of her own feeling and speech in the scene which had ended with +that little explosion. + +Celias consciousness told her that she had not been at all in the +wrong: it was quite natural and justifiable that she should have asked +that question, and she repeated to herself that Dorothea was +inconsistent: either she should have taken her full share of the +jewels, or, after what she had said, she should have renounced them +altogether. + +I am sureat least, I trust, thought Celia, that the wearing of a +necklace will not interfere with my prayers. And I do not see that I +should be bound by Dorotheas opinions now we are going into society, +though of course she herself ought to be bound by them. But Dorothea is +not always consistent. + +Thus Celia, mutely bending over her tapestry, until she heard her +sister calling her. + +Here, Kitty, come and look at my plan; I shall think I am a great +architect, if I have not got incompatible stairs and fireplaces. + +As Celia bent over the paper, Dorothea put her cheek against her +sisters arm caressingly. Celia understood the action. Dorothea saw +that she had been in the wrong, and Celia pardoned her. Since they +could remember, there had been a mixture of criticism and awe in the +attitude of Celias mind towards her elder sister. The younger had +always worn a yoke; but is there any yoked creature without its private +opinions? + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +Dime; no ves aquel caballero que hacia nosotros viene sobre un +caballo rucio rodado que trae puesto en la cabeza un yelmo de oro? Lo +que veo y columbro, respondio Sancho, no es sino un hombre sobre un +as no pardo como el mio, que trae sobre la cabeza una cosa que +relumbra. Pues ese es el yelmo de Mambrino, dijo Don +Quijote.CERVANTES. + + +Seest thou not yon cavalier who cometh toward us on a dapple-gray +steed, and weareth a golden helmet? What I see, answered Sancho, is +nothing but a man on a gray ass like my own, who carries something +shiny on his head. Just so, answered Don Quixote: and that +resplendent object is the helmet of Mambrino. + + +Sir Humphry Davy? said Mr. Brooke, over the soup, in his easy smiling +way, taking up Sir James Chettams remark that he was studying Davys +Agricultural Chemistry. Well, now, Sir Humphry Davy; I dined with him +years ago at Cartwrights, and Wordsworth was there toothe poet +Wordsworth, you know. Now there was something singular. I was at +Cambridge when Wordsworth was there, and I never met himand I dined +with him twenty years afterwards at Cartwrights. Theres an oddity in +things, now. But Davy was there: he was a poet too. Or, as I may say, +Wordsworth was poet one, and Davy was poet two. That was true in every +sense, you know. + +Dorothea felt a little more uneasy than usual. In the beginning of +dinner, the party being small and the room still, these motes from the +mass of a magistrates mind fell too noticeably. She wondered how a man +like Mr. Casaubon would support such triviality. His manners, she +thought, were very dignified; the set of his iron-gray hair and his +deep eye-sockets made him resemble the portrait of Locke. He had the +spare form and the pale complexion which became a student; as different +as possible from the blooming Englishman of the red-whiskered type +represented by Sir James Chettam. + +I am reading the Agricultural Chemistry, said this excellent baronet, +because I am going to take one of the farms into my own hands, and see +if something cannot be done in setting a good pattern of farming among +my tenants. Do you approve of that, Miss Brooke? + +A great mistake, Chettam, interposed Mr. Brooke, going into +electrifying your land and that kind of thing, and making a parlor of +your cow-house. It wont do. I went into science a great deal myself at +one time; but I saw it would not do. It leads to everything; you can +let nothing alone. No, nosee that your tenants dont sell their straw, +and that kind of thing; and give them draining-tiles, you know. But +your fancy farming will not dothe most expensive sort of whistle you +can buy: you may as well keep a pack of hounds. + +Surely, said Dorothea, it is better to spend money in finding out +how men can make the most of the land which supports them all, than in +keeping dogs and horses only to gallop over it. It is not a sin to make +yourself poor in performing experiments for the good of all. + +She spoke with more energy than is expected of so young a lady, but Sir +James had appealed to her. He was accustomed to do so, and she had +often thought that she could urge him to many good actions when he was +her brother-in-law. + +Mr. Casaubon turned his eyes very markedly on Dorothea while she was +speaking, and seemed to observe her newly. + +Young ladies dont understand political economy, you know, said Mr. +Brooke, smiling towards Mr. Casaubon. I remember when we were all +reading Adam Smith. _There_ is a book, now. I took in all the new ideas +at one timehuman perfectibility, now. But some say, history moves in +circles; and that may be very well argued; I have argued it myself. The +fact is, human reason may carry you a little too farover the hedge, in +fact. It carried me a good way at one time; but I saw it would not do. +I pulled up; I pulled up in time. But not too hard. I have always been +in favor of a little theory: we must have Thought; else we shall be +landed back in the dark ages. But talking of books, there is Southeys +Peninsular War. I am reading that of a morning. You know Southey? + +No, said Mr. Casaubon, not keeping pace with Mr. Brookes impetuous +reason, and thinking of the book only. I have little leisure for such +literature just now. I have been using up my eyesight on old characters +lately; the fact is, I want a reader for my evenings; but I am +fastidious in voices, and I cannot endure listening to an imperfect +reader. It is a misfortune, in some senses: I feed too much on the +inward sources; I live too much with the dead. My mind is something +like the ghost of an ancient, wandering about the world and trying +mentally to construct it as it used to be, in spite of ruin and +confusing changes. But I find it necessary to use the utmost caution +about my eyesight. + +This was the first time that Mr. Casaubon had spoken at any length. He +delivered himself with precision, as if he had been called upon to make +a public statement; and the balanced sing-song neatness of his speech, +occasionally corresponded to by a movement of his head, was the more +conspicuous from its contrast with good Mr. Brookes scrappy +slovenliness. Dorothea said to herself that Mr. Casaubon was the most +interesting man she had ever seen, not excepting even Monsieur Liret, +the Vaudois clergyman who had given conferences on the history of the +Waldenses. To reconstruct a past world, doubtless with a view to the +highest purposes of truthwhat a work to be in any way present at, to +assist in, though only as a lamp-holder! This elevating thought lifted +her above her annoyance at being twitted with her ignorance of +political economy, that never-explained science which was thrust as an +extinguisher over all her lights. + +But you are fond of riding, Miss Brooke, Sir James presently took an +opportunity of saying. I should have thought you would enter a little +into the pleasures of hunting. I wish you would let me send over a +chestnut horse for you to try. It has been trained for a lady. I saw +you on Saturday cantering over the hill on a nag not worthy of you. My +groom shall bring Corydon for you every day, if you will only mention +the time. + +Thank you, you are very good. I mean to give up riding. I shall not +ride any more, said Dorothea, urged to this brusque resolution by a +little annoyance that Sir James would be soliciting her attention when +she wanted to give it all to Mr. Casaubon. + +No, that is too hard, said Sir James, in a tone of reproach that +showed strong interest. Your sister is given to self-mortification, is +she not? he continued, turning to Celia, who sat at his right hand. + +I think she is, said Celia, feeling afraid lest she should say +something that would not please her sister, and blushing as prettily as +possible above her necklace. She likes giving up. + +If that were true, Celia, my giving-up would be self-indulgence, not +self-mortification. But there may be good reasons for choosing not to +do what is very agreeable, said Dorothea. + +Mr. Brooke was speaking at the same time, but it was evident that Mr. +Casaubon was observing Dorothea, and she was aware of it. + +Exactly, said Sir James. You give up from some high, generous +motive. + +No, indeed, not exactly. I did not say that of myself, answered +Dorothea, reddening. Unlike Celia, she rarely blushed, and only from +high delight or anger. At this moment she felt angry with the perverse +Sir James. Why did he not pay attention to Celia, and leave her to +listen to Mr. Casaubon?if that learned man would only talk, instead of +allowing himself to be talked to by Mr. Brooke, who was just then +informing him that the Reformation either meant something or it did +not, that he himself was a Protestant to the core, but that Catholicism +was a fact; and as to refusing an acre of your ground for a Romanist +chapel, all men needed the bridle of religion, which, properly +speaking, was the dread of a Hereafter. + +I made a great study of theology at one time, said Mr. Brooke, as if +to explain the insight just manifested. I know something of all +schools. I knew Wilberforce in his best days. Do you know Wilberforce? + +Mr. Casaubon said, No. + +Well, Wilberforce was perhaps not enough of a thinker; but if I went +into Parliament, as I have been asked to do, I should sit on the +independent bench, as Wilberforce did, and work at philanthropy. + +Mr. Casaubon bowed, and observed that it was a wide field. + +Yes, said Mr. Brooke, with an easy smile, but I have documents. I +began a long while ago to collect documents. They want arranging, but +when a question has struck me, I have written to somebody and got an +answer. I have documents at my back. But now, how do you arrange your +documents? + +In pigeon-holes partly, said Mr. Casaubon, with rather a startled air +of effort. + +Ah, pigeon-holes will not do. I have tried pigeon-holes, but +everything gets mixed in pigeon-holes: I never know whether a paper is +in A or Z. + +I wish you would let me sort your papers for you, uncle, said +Dorothea. I would letter them all, and then make a list of subjects +under each letter. + +Mr. Casaubon gravely smiled approval, and said to Mr. Brooke, You have +an excellent secretary at hand, you perceive. + +No, no, said Mr. Brooke, shaking his head; I cannot let young ladies +meddle with my documents. Young ladies are too flighty. + +Dorothea felt hurt. Mr. Casaubon would think that her uncle had some +special reason for delivering this opinion, whereas the remark lay in +his mind as lightly as the broken wing of an insect among all the other +fragments there, and a chance current had sent it alighting on _her_. + +When the two girls were in the drawing-room alone, Celia said + +How very ugly Mr. Casaubon is! + +Celia! He is one of the most distinguished-looking men I ever saw. He +is remarkably like the portrait of Locke. He has the same deep +eye-sockets. + +Had Locke those two white moles with hairs on them? + +Oh, I dare say! when people of a certain sort looked at him, said +Dorothea, walking away a little. + +Mr. Casaubon is so sallow. + +All the better. I suppose you admire a man with the complexion of a +_cochon de lait_. + +Dodo! exclaimed Celia, looking after her in surprise. I never heard +you make such a comparison before. + +Why should I make it before the occasion came? It is a good +comparison: the match is perfect. + +Miss Brooke was clearly forgetting herself, and Celia thought so. + +I wonder you show temper, Dorothea. + +It is so painful in you, Celia, that you will look at human beings as +if they were merely animals with a toilet, and never see the great soul +in a mans face. + +Has Mr. Casaubon a great soul? Celia was not without a touch of naive +malice. + +Yes, I believe he has, said Dorothea, with the full voice of +decision. Everything I see in him corresponds to his pamphlet on +Biblical Cosmology. + +He talks very little, said Celia + +There is no one for him to talk to. + +Celia thought privately, Dorothea quite despises Sir James Chettam; I +believe she would not accept him. Celia felt that this was a pity. She +had never been deceived as to the object of the baronets interest. +Sometimes, indeed, she had reflected that Dodo would perhaps not make a +husband happy who had not her way of looking at things; and stifled in +the depths of her heart was the feeling that her sister was too +religious for family comfort. Notions and scruples were like spilt +needles, making one afraid of treading, or sitting down, or even +eating. + +When Miss Brooke was at the tea-table, Sir James came to sit down by +her, not having felt her mode of answering him at all offensive. Why +should he? He thought it probable that Miss Brooke liked him, and +manners must be very marked indeed before they cease to be interpreted +by preconceptions either confident or distrustful. She was thoroughly +charming to him, but of course he theorized a little about his +attachment. He was made of excellent human dough, and had the rare +merit of knowing that his talents, even if let loose, would not set the +smallest stream in the county on fire: hence he liked the prospect of a +wife to whom he could say, What shall we do? about this or that; who +could help her husband out with reasons, and would also have the +property qualification for doing so. As to the excessive religiousness +alleged against Miss Brooke, he had a very indefinite notion of what it +consisted in, and thought that it would die out with marriage. In +short, he felt himself to be in love in the right place, and was ready +to endure a great deal of predominance, which, after all, a man could +always put down when he liked. Sir James had no idea that he should +ever like to put down the predominance of this handsome girl, in whose +cleverness he delighted. Why not? A mans mindwhat there is of ithas +always the advantage of being masculine,as the smallest birch-tree is +of a higher kind than the most soaring palm,and even his ignorance is +of a sounder quality. Sir James might not have originated this +estimate; but a kind Providence furnishes the limpest personality with +a little gum or starch in the form of tradition. + +Let me hope that you will rescind that resolution about the horse, +Miss Brooke, said the persevering admirer. I assure you, riding is +the most healthy of exercises. + +I am aware of it, said Dorothea, coldly. I think it would do Celia +goodif she would take to it. + +But you are such a perfect horsewoman. + +Excuse me; I have had very little practice, and I should be easily +thrown. + +Then that is a reason for more practice. Every lady ought to be a +perfect horsewoman, that she may accompany her husband. + +You see how widely we differ, Sir James. I have made up my mind that I +ought not to be a perfect horsewoman, and so I should never correspond +to your pattern of a lady. Dorothea looked straight before her, and +spoke with cold brusquerie, very much with the air of a handsome boy, +in amusing contrast with the solicitous amiability of her admirer. + +I should like to know your reasons for this cruel resolution. It is +not possible that you should think horsemanship wrong. + +It is quite possible that I should think it wrong for me. + +Oh, why? said Sir James, in a tender tone of remonstrance. + +Mr. Casaubon had come up to the table, teacup in hand, and was +listening. + +We must not inquire too curiously into motives, he interposed, in his +measured way. Miss Brooke knows that they are apt to become feeble in +the utterance: the aroma is mixed with the grosser air. We must keep +the germinating grain away from the light. + +Dorothea colored with pleasure, and looked up gratefully to the +speaker. Here was a man who could understand the higher inward life, +and with whom there could be some spiritual communion; nay, who could +illuminate principle with the widest knowledge: a man whose learning +almost amounted to a proof of whatever he believed! + +Dorotheas inferences may seem large; but really life could never have +gone on at any period but for this liberal allowance of conclusions, +which has facilitated marriage under the difficulties of civilization. +Has any one ever pinched into its pilulous smallness the cobweb of +pre-matrimonial acquaintanceship? + +Certainly, said good Sir James. Miss Brooke shall not be urged to +tell reasons she would rather be silent upon. I am sure her reasons +would do her honor. + +He was not in the least jealous of the interest with which Dorothea had +looked up at Mr. Casaubon: it never occurred to him that a girl to whom +he was meditating an offer of marriage could care for a dried bookworm +towards fifty, except, indeed, in a religious sort of way, as for a +clergyman of some distinction. + +However, since Miss Brooke had become engaged in a conversation with +Mr. Casaubon about the Vaudois clergy, Sir James betook himself to +Celia, and talked to her about her sister; spoke of a house in town, +and asked whether Miss Brooke disliked London. Away from her sister, +Celia talked quite easily, and Sir James said to himself that the +second Miss Brooke was certainly very agreeable as well as pretty, +though not, as some people pretended, more clever and sensible than the +elder sister. He felt that he had chosen the one who was in all +respects the superior; and a man naturally likes to look forward to +having the best. He would be the very Mawworm of bachelors who +pretended not to expect it. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +Say, goddess, what ensued, when Raphael, +The affable archangel . . . + Eve +The story heard attentive, and was filled +With admiration, and deep muse, to hear +Of things so high and strange. +_Paradise Lost_, B. vii. + + +If it had really occurred to Mr. Casaubon to think of Miss Brooke as a +suitable wife for him, the reasons that might induce her to accept him +were already planted in her mind, and by the evening of the next day +the reasons had budded and bloomed. For they had had a long +conversation in the morning, while Celia, who did not like the company +of Mr. Casaubons moles and sallowness, had escaped to the vicarage to +play with the curates ill-shod but merry children. + +Dorothea by this time had looked deep into the ungauged reservoir of +Mr. Casaubons mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine +extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her own +experience to him, and had understood from him the scope of his great +work, also of attractively labyrinthine extent. For he had been as +instructive as Miltons affable archangel; and with something of the +archangelic manner he told her how he had undertaken to show (what +indeed had been attempted before, but not with that thoroughness, +justice of comparison, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. +Casaubon aimed) that all the mythical systems or erratic mythical +fragments in the world were corruptions of a tradition originally +revealed. Having once mastered the true position and taken a firm +footing there, the vast field of mythical constructions became +intelligible, nay, luminous with the reflected light of +correspondences. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no +light or speedy work. His notes already made a formidable range of +volumes, but the crowning task would be to condense these voluminous +still-accumulating results and bring them, like the earlier vintage of +Hippocratic books, to fit a little shelf. In explaining this to +Dorothea, Mr. Casaubon expressed himself nearly as he would have done +to a fellow-student, for he had not two styles of talking at command: +it is true that when he used a Greek or Latin phrase he always gave the +English with scrupulous care, but he would probably have done this in +any case. A learned provincial clergyman is accustomed to think of his +acquaintances as of lords, knyghtes, and other noble and worthi men, +that conne Latyn but lytille. + +Dorothea was altogether captivated by the wide embrace of this +conception. Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies school +literature: here was a living Bossuet, whose work would reconcile +complete knowledge with devoted piety; here was a modern Augustine who +united the glories of doctor and saint. + +The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the learning, for when +Dorothea was impelled to open her mind on certain themes which she +could speak of to no one whom she had before seen at Tipton, especially +on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of +belief compared with that spiritual religion, that submergence of self +in communion with Divine perfection which seemed to her to be expressed +in the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she found in Mr. +Casaubon a listener who understood her at once, who could assure her of +his own agreement with that view when duly tempered with wise +conformity, and could mention historical examples before unknown to +her. + +He thinks with me, said Dorothea to herself, or rather, he thinks a +whole world of which my thought is but a poor twopenny mirror. And his +feelings too, his whole experiencewhat a lake compared with my little +pool! + +Miss Brooke argued from words and dispositions not less unhesitatingly +than other young ladies of her age. Signs are small measurable things, +but interpretations are illimitable, and in girls of sweet, ardent +nature, every sign is apt to conjure up wonder, hope, belief, vast as a +sky, and colored by a diffused thimbleful of matter in the shape of +knowledge. They are not always too grossly deceived; for Sinbad himself +may have fallen by good-luck on a true description, and wrong reasoning +sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long way +off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we now and +then arrive just where we ought to be. Because Miss Brooke was hasty in +her trust, it is not therefore clear that Mr. Casaubon was unworthy of +it. + +He stayed a little longer than he had intended, on a slight pressure of +invitation from Mr. Brooke, who offered no bait except his own +documents on machine-breaking and rick-burning. Mr. Casaubon was called +into the library to look at these in a heap, while his host picked up +first one and then the other to read aloud from in a skipping and +uncertain way, passing from one unfinished passage to another with a +Yes, now, but here! and finally pushing them all aside to open the +journal of his youthful Continental travels. + +Look herehere is all about Greece. Rhamnus, the ruins of Rhamnusyou +are a great Grecian, now. I dont know whether you have given much +study to the topography. I spent no end of time in making out these +thingsHelicon, now. Here, now!We started the next morning for +Parnassus, the double-peaked Parnassus. All this volume is about +Greece, you know, Mr. Brooke wound up, rubbing his thumb transversely +along the edges of the leaves as he held the book forward. + +Mr. Casaubon made a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in +the right place, and avoided looking at anything documentary as far as +possible, without showing disregard or impatience; mindful that this +desultoriness was associated with the institutions of the country, and +that the man who took him on this severe mental scamper was not only an +amiable host, but a landholder and custos rotulorum. Was his endurance +aided also by the reflection that Mr. Brooke was the uncle of Dorothea? + +Certainly he seemed more and more bent on making her talk to him, on +drawing her out, as Celia remarked to herself; and in looking at her +his face was often lit up by a smile like pale wintry sunshine. Before +he left the next morning, while taking a pleasant walk with Miss Brooke +along the gravelled terrace, he had mentioned to her that he felt the +disadvantage of loneliness, the need of that cheerful companionship +with which the presence of youth can lighten or vary the serious toils +of maturity. And he delivered this statement with as much careful +precision as if he had been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be +attended with results. Indeed, Mr. Casaubon was not used to expect that +he should have to repeat or revise his communications of a practical or +personal kind. The inclinations which he had deliberately stated on the +2d of October he would think it enough to refer to by the mention of +that date; judging by the standard of his own memory, which was a +volume where a vide supra could serve instead of repetitions, and not +the ordinary long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten +writing. But in this case Mr. Casaubons confidence was not likely to +be falsified, for Dorothea heard and retained what he said with the +eager interest of a fresh young nature to which every variety in +experience is an epoch. + +It was three oclock in the beautiful breezy autumn day when Mr. +Casaubon drove off to his Rectory at Lowick, only five miles from +Tipton; and Dorothea, who had on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along +the shrubbery and across the park that she might wander through the +bordering wood with no other visible companionship than that of Monk, +the Great St. Bernard dog, who always took care of the young ladies in +their walks. There had risen before her the girls vision of a possible +future for herself to which she looked forward with trembling hope, and +she wanted to wander on in that visionary future without interruption. +She walked briskly in the brisk air, the color rose in her cheeks, and +her straw bonnet (which our contemporaries might look at with +conjectural curiosity as at an obsolete form of basket) fell a little +backward. She would perhaps be hardly characterized enough if it were +omitted that she wore her brown hair flatly braided and coiled behind +so as to expose the outline of her head in a daring manner at a time +when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to be +dissimulated by tall barricades of frizzed curls and bows, never +surpassed by any great race except the Feejeean. This was a trait of +Miss Brookes asceticism. But there was nothing of an ascetics +expression in her bright full eyes, as she looked before her, not +consciously seeing, but absorbing into the intensity of her mood, the +solemn glory of the afternoon with its long swathes of light between +the far-off rows of limes, whose shadows touched each other. + +All people, young or old (that is, all people in those ante-reform +times), would have thought her an interesting object if they had +referred the glow in her eyes and cheeks to the newly awakened ordinary +images of young love: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been +sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as the pathetic loveliness of all +spontaneous trust ought to be. Miss Pippin adoring young Pumpkin, and +dreaming along endless vistas of unwearying companionship, was a little +drama which never tired our fathers and mothers, and had been put into +all costumes. Let but Pumpkin have a figure which would sustain the +disadvantages of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and everybody felt it +not only natural but necessary to the perfection of womanhood, that a +sweet girl should be at once convinced of his virtue, his exceptional +ability, and above all, his perfect sincerity. But perhaps no persons +then livingcertainly none in the neighborhood of Tiptonwould have had +a sympathetic understanding for the dreams of a girl whose notions +about marriage took their color entirely from an exalted enthusiasm +about the ends of life, an enthusiasm which was lit chiefly by its own +fire, and included neither the niceties of the trousseau, the pattern +of plate, nor even the honors and sweet joys of the blooming matron. + +It had now entered Dorotheas mind that Mr. Casaubon might wish to make +her his wife, and the idea that he would do so touched her with a sort +of reverential gratitude. How good of himnay, it would be almost as if +a winged messenger had suddenly stood beside her path and held out his +hand towards her! For a long while she had been oppressed by the +indefiniteness which hung in her mind, like a thick summer haze, over +all her desire to make her life greatly effective. What could she do, +what ought she to do?she, hardly more than a budding woman, but yet +with an active conscience and a great mental need, not to be satisfied +by a girlish instruction comparable to the nibblings and judgments of a +discursive mouse. With some endowment of stupidity and conceit, she +might have thought that a Christian young lady of fortune should find +her ideal of life in village charities, patronage of the humbler +clergy, the perusal of Female Scripture Characters, unfolding the +private experience of Sara under the Old Dispensation, and Dorcas under +the New, and the care of her soul over her embroidery in her own +boudoirwith a background of prospective marriage to a man who, if less +strict than herself, as being involved in affairs religiously +inexplicable, might be prayed for and seasonably exhorted. From such +contentment poor Dorothea was shut out. The intensity of her religious +disposition, the coercion it exercised over her life, was but one +aspect of a nature altogether ardent, theoretic, and intellectually +consequent: and with such a nature struggling in the bands of a narrow +teaching, hemmed in by a social life which seemed nothing but a +labyrinth of petty courses, a walled-in maze of small paths that led no +whither, the outcome was sure to strike others as at once exaggeration +and inconsistency. The thing which seemed to her best, she wanted to +justify by the completest knowledge; and not to live in a pretended +admission of rules which were never acted on. Into this soul-hunger as +yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her +was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own +ignorance, and give her the freedom of voluntary submission to a guide +who would take her along the grandest path. + +I should learn everything then, she said to herself, still walking +quickly along the bridle road through the wood. It would be my duty to +study that I might help him the better in his great works. There would +be nothing trivial about our lives. Every-day things with us would mean +the greatest things. It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn +to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by. And +then I should know what to do, when I got older: I should see how it +was possible to lead a grand life herenowin England. I dont feel +sure about doing good in any way now: everything seems like going on a +mission to a people whose language I dont know;unless it were +building good cottagesthere can be no doubt about that. Oh, I hope I +should be able to get the people well housed in Lowick! I will draw +plenty of plans while I have time. + +Dorothea checked herself suddenly with self-rebuke for the presumptuous +way in which she was reckoning on uncertain events, but she was spared +any inward effort to change the direction of her thoughts by the +appearance of a cantering horseman round a turning of the road. The +well-groomed chestnut horse and two beautiful setters could leave no +doubt that the rider was Sir James Chettam. He discerned Dorothea, +jumped off his horse at once, and, having delivered it to his groom, +advanced towards her with something white on his arm, at which the two +setters were barking in an excited manner. + +How delightful to meet you, Miss Brooke, he said, raising his hat and +showing his sleekly waving blond hair. It has hastened the pleasure I +was looking forward to. + +Miss Brooke was annoyed at the interruption. This amiable baronet, +really a suitable husband for Celia, exaggerated the necessity of +making himself agreeable to the elder sister. Even a prospective +brother-in-law may be an oppression if he will always be presupposing +too good an understanding with you, and agreeing with you even when you +contradict him. The thought that he had made the mistake of paying his +addresses to herself could not take shape: all her mental activity was +used up in persuasions of another kind. But he was positively obtrusive +at this moment, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable. Her +roused temper made her color deeply, as she returned his greeting with +some haughtiness. + +Sir James interpreted the heightened color in the way most gratifying +to himself, and thought he never saw Miss Brooke looking so handsome. + +I have brought a little petitioner, he said, or rather, I have +brought him to see if he will be approved before his petition is +offered. He showed the white object under his arm, which was a tiny +Maltese puppy, one of natures most naive toys. + +It is painful to me to see these creatures that are bred merely as +pets, said Dorothea, whose opinion was forming itself that very moment +(as opinions will) under the heat of irritation. + +Oh, why? said Sir James, as they walked forward. + +I believe all the petting that is given them does not make them happy. +They are too helpless: their lives are too frail. A weasel or a mouse +that gets its own living is more interesting. I like to think that the +animals about us have souls something like our own, and either carry on +their own little affairs or can be companions to us, like Monk here. +Those creatures are parasitic. + +I am so glad I know that you do not like them, said good Sir James. +I should never keep them for myself, but ladies usually are fond of +these Maltese dogs. Here, John, take this dog, will you? + +The objectionable puppy, whose nose and eyes were equally black and +expressive, was thus got rid of, since Miss Brooke decided that it had +better not have been born. But she felt it necessary to explain. + +You must not judge of Celias feeling from mine. I think she likes +these small pets. She had a tiny terrier once, which she was very fond +of. It made me unhappy, because I was afraid of treading on it. I am +rather short-sighted. + +You have your own opinion about everything, Miss Brooke, and it is +always a good opinion. + +What answer was possible to such stupid complimenting? + +Do you know, I envy you that, Sir James said, as they continued +walking at the rather brisk pace set by Dorothea. + +I dont quite understand what you mean. + +Your power of forming an opinion. I can form an opinion of persons. I +know when I like people. But about other matters, do you know, I have +often a difficulty in deciding. One hears very sensible things said on +opposite sides. + +Or that seem sensible. Perhaps we dont always discriminate between +sense and nonsense. + +Dorothea felt that she was rather rude. + +Exactly, said Sir James. But you seem to have the power of +discrimination. + +On the contrary, I am often unable to decide. But that is from +ignorance. The right conclusion is there all the same, though I am +unable to see it. + +I think there are few who would see it more readily. Do you know, +Lovegood was telling me yesterday that you had the best notion in the +world of a plan for cottagesquite wonderful for a young lady, he +thought. You had a real _genus_, to use his expression. He said you +wanted Mr. Brooke to build a new set of cottages, but he seemed to +think it hardly probable that your uncle would consent. Do you know, +that is one of the things I wish to doI mean, on my own estate. I +should be so glad to carry out that plan of yours, if you would let me +see it. Of course, it is sinking money; that is why people object to +it. Laborers can never pay rent to make it answer. But, after all, it +is worth doing. + +Worth doing! yes, indeed, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting +her previous small vexations. I think we deserve to be beaten out of +our beautiful houses with a scourge of small cordsall of us who let +tenants live in such sties as we see round us. Life in cottages might +be happier than ours, if they were real houses fit for human beings +from whom we expect duties and affections. + +Will you show me your plan? + +Yes, certainly. I dare say it is very faulty. But I have been +examining all the plans for cottages in Loudons book, and picked out +what seem the best things. Oh what a happiness it would be to set the +pattern about here! I think instead of Lazarus at the gate, we should +put the pigsty cottages outside the park-gate. + +Dorothea was in the best temper now. Sir James, as brother in-law, +building model cottages on his estate, and then, perhaps, others being +built at Lowick, and more and more elsewhere in imitationit would be +as if the spirit of Oberlin had passed over the parishes to make the +life of poverty beautiful! + +Sir James saw all the plans, and took one away to consult upon with +Lovegood. He also took away a complacent sense that he was making great +progress in Miss Brookes good opinion. The Maltese puppy was not +offered to Celia; an omission which Dorothea afterwards thought of with +surprise; but she blamed herself for it. She had been engrossing Sir +James. After all, it was a relief that there was no puppy to tread +upon. + +Celia was present while the plans were being examined, and observed Sir +Jamess illusion. He thinks that Dodo cares about him, and she only +cares about her plans. Yet I am not certain that she would refuse him +if she thought he would let her manage everything and carry out all her +notions. And how very uncomfortable Sir James would be! I cannot bear +notions. + +It was Celias private luxury to indulge in this dislike. She dared not +confess it to her sister in any direct statement, for that would be +laying herself open to a demonstration that she was somehow or other at +war with all goodness. But on safe opportunities, she had an indirect +mode of making her negative wisdom tell upon Dorothea, and calling her +down from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that people were staring, +not listening. Celia was not impulsive: what she had to say could wait, +and came from her always with the same quiet staccato evenness. When +people talked with energy and emphasis she watched their faces and +features merely. She never could understand how well-bred persons +consented to sing and open their mouths in the ridiculous manner +requisite for that vocal exercise. + +It was not many days before Mr. Casaubon paid a morning visit, on which +he was invited again for the following week to dine and stay the night. +Thus Dorothea had three more conversations with him, and was convinced +that her first impressions had been just. He was all she had at first +imagined him to be: almost everything he had said seemed like a +specimen from a mine, or the inscription on the door of a museum which +might open on the treasures of past ages; and this trust in his mental +wealth was all the deeper and more effective on her inclination because +it was now obvious that his visits were made for her sake. This +accomplished man condescended to think of a young girl, and take the +pains to talk to her, not with absurd compliment, but with an appeal to +her understanding, and sometimes with instructive correction. What +delightful companionship! Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that +trivialities existed, and never handed round that small-talk of heavy +men which is as acceptable as stale bride-cake brought forth with an +odor of cupboard. He talked of what he was interested in, or else he +was silent and bowed with sad civility. To Dorothea this was adorable +genuineness, and religious abstinence from that artificiality which +uses up the soul in the efforts of pretence. For she looked as +reverently at Mr. Casaubons religious elevation above herself as she +did at his intellect and learning. He assented to her expressions of +devout feeling, and usually with an appropriate quotation; he allowed +himself to say that he had gone through some spiritual conflicts in his +youth; in short, Dorothea saw that here she might reckon on +understanding, sympathy, and guidance. On oneonly oneof her favorite +themes she was disappointed. Mr. Casaubon apparently did not care about +building cottages, and diverted the talk to the extremely narrow +accommodation which was to be had in the dwellings of the ancient +Egyptians, as if to check a too high standard. After he was gone, +Dorothea dwelt with some agitation on this indifference of his; and her +mind was much exercised with arguments drawn from the varying +conditions of climate which modify human needs, and from the admitted +wickedness of pagan despots. Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. +Casaubon when he came again? But further reflection told her that she +was presumptuous in demanding his attention to such a subject; he would +not disapprove of her occupying herself with it in leisure moments, as +other women expected to occupy themselves with their dress and +embroiderywould not forbid it whenDorothea felt rather ashamed as she +detected herself in these speculations. But her uncle had been invited +to go to Lowick to stay a couple of days: was it reasonable to suppose +that Mr. Casaubon delighted in Mr. Brookes society for its own sake, +either with or without documents? + +Meanwhile that little disappointment made her delight the more in Sir +James Chettams readiness to set on foot the desired improvements. He +came much oftener than Mr. Casaubon, and Dorothea ceased to find him +disagreeable since he showed himself so entirely in earnest; for he had +already entered with much practical ability into Lovegoods estimates, +and was charmingly docile. She proposed to build a couple of cottages, +and transfer two families from their old cabins, which could then be +pulled down, so that new ones could be built on the old sites. Sir +James said Exactly, and she bore the word remarkably well. + +Certainly these men who had so few spontaneous ideas might be very +useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were +fortunate in choosing their sisters-in-law! It is difficult to say +whether there was or was not a little wilfulness in her continuing +blind to the possibility that another sort of choice was in question in +relation to her. But her life was just now full of hope and action: she +was not only thinking of her plans, but getting down learned books from +the library and reading many things hastily (that she might be a little +less ignorant in talking to Mr. Casaubon), all the while being visited +with conscientious questionings whether she were not exalting these +poor doings above measure and contemplating them with that +self-satisfaction which was the last doom of ignorance and folly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +1_st Gent_. Our deeds are fetters that we forge ourselves. + +2_d Gent._ Ay, truly: but I think it is the world +That brings the iron. + + +Sir James seems determined to do everything you wish, said Celia, as +they were driving home from an inspection of the new building-site. + +He is a good creature, and more sensible than any one would imagine, +said Dorothea, inconsiderately. + +You mean that he appears silly. + +No, no, said Dorothea, recollecting herself, and laying her hand on +her sisters a moment, but he does not talk equally well on all +subjects. + +I should think none but disagreeable people do, said Celia, in her +usual purring way. They must be very dreadful to live with. Only +think! at breakfast, and always. + +Dorothea laughed. O Kitty, you are a wonderful creature! She pinched +Celias chin, being in the mood now to think her very winning and +lovelyfit hereafter to be an eternal cherub, and if it were not +doctrinally wrong to say so, hardly more in need of salvation than a +squirrel. Of course people need not be always talking well. Only one +tells the quality of their minds when they try to talk well. + +You mean that Sir James tries and fails. + +I was speaking generally. Why do you catechise me about Sir James? It +is not the object of his life to please me. + +Now, Dodo, can you really believe that? + +Certainly. He thinks of me as a future sisterthat is all. Dorothea +had never hinted this before, waiting, from a certain shyness on such +subjects which was mutual between the sisters, until it should be +introduced by some decisive event. Celia blushed, but said at once + +Pray do not make that mistake any longer, Dodo. When Tantripp was +brushing my hair the other day, she said that Sir Jamess man knew from +Mrs. Cadwalladers maid that Sir James was to marry the eldest Miss +Brooke. + +How can you let Tantripp talk such gossip to you, Celia? said +Dorothea, indignantly, not the less angry because details asleep in her +memory were now awakened to confirm the unwelcome revelation. You must +have asked her questions. It is degrading. + +I see no harm at all in Tantripps talking to me. It is better to hear +what people say. You see what mistakes you make by taking up notions. I +am quite sure that Sir James means to make you an offer; and he +believes that you will accept him, especially since you have been so +pleased with him about the plans. And uncle tooI know he expects it. +Every one can see that Sir James is very much in love with you. + +The revulsion was so strong and painful in Dorotheas mind that the +tears welled up and flowed abundantly. All her dear plans were +embittered, and she thought with disgust of Sir Jamess conceiving that +she recognized him as her lover. There was vexation too on account of +Celia. + +How could he expect it? she burst forth in her most impetuous manner. +I have never agreed with him about anything but the cottages: I was +barely polite to him before. + +But you have been so pleased with him since then; he has begun to feel +quite sure that you are fond of him. + +Fond of him, Celia! How can you choose such odious expressions? said +Dorothea, passionately. + +Dear me, Dorothea, I suppose it would be right for you to be fond of a +man whom you accepted for a husband. + +It is offensive to me to say that Sir James could think I was fond of +him. Besides, it is not the right word for the feeling I must have +towards the man I would accept as a husband. + +Well, I am sorry for Sir James. I thought it right to tell you, +because you went on as you always do, never looking just where you are, +and treading in the wrong place. You always see what nobody else sees; +it is impossible to satisfy you; yet you never see what is quite plain. +Thats your way, Dodo. Something certainly gave Celia unusual courage; +and she was not sparing the sister of whom she was occasionally in awe. +Who can tell what just criticisms Murr the Cat may be passing on us +beings of wider speculation? + +It is very painful, said Dorothea, feeling scourged. I can have no +more to do with the cottages. I must be uncivil to him. I must tell him +I will have nothing to do with them. It is very painful. Her eyes +filled again with tears. + +Wait a little. Think about it. You know he is going away for a day or +two to see his sister. There will be nobody besides Lovegood. Celia +could not help relenting. Poor Dodo, she went on, in an amiable +staccato. It is very hard: it is your favorite _fad_ to draw plans. + +_Fad_ to draw plans! Do you think I only care about my +fellow-creatures houses in that childish way? I may well make +mistakes. How can one ever do anything nobly Christian, living among +people with such petty thoughts? + +No more was said; Dorothea was too much jarred to recover her temper +and behave so as to show that she admitted any error in herself. She +was disposed rather to accuse the intolerable narrowness and the +purblind conscience of the society around her: and Celia was no longer +the eternal cherub, but a thorn in her spirit, a pink-and-white +nullifidian, worse than any discouraging presence in the Pilgrims +Progress. The _fad_ of drawing plans! What was life worthwhat great +faith was possible when the whole effect of ones actions could be +withered up into such parched rubbish as that? When she got out of the +carriage, her cheeks were pale and her eyelids red. She was an image of +sorrow, and her uncle who met her in the hall would have been alarmed, +if Celia had not been close to her looking so pretty and composed, that +he at once concluded Dorotheas tears to have their origin in her +excessive religiousness. He had returned, during their absence, from a +journey to the county town, about a petition for the pardon of some +criminal. + +Well, my dears, he said, kindly, as they went up to kiss him, I hope +nothing disagreeable has happened while I have been away. + +No, uncle, said Celia, we have been to Freshitt to look at the +cottages. We thought you would have been at home to lunch. + +I came by Lowick to lunchyou didnt know I came by Lowick. And I have +brought a couple of pamphlets for you, Dorotheain the library, you +know; they lie on the table in the library. + +It seemed as if an electric stream went through Dorothea, thrilling her +from despair into expectation. They were pamphlets about the early +Church. The oppression of Celia, Tantripp, and Sir James was shaken +off, and she walked straight to the library. Celia went up-stairs. Mr. +Brooke was detained by a message, but when he re-entered the library, +he found Dorothea seated and already deep in one of the pamphlets which +had some marginal manuscript of Mr. Casaubons,taking it in as eagerly +as she might have taken in the scent of a fresh bouquet after a dry, +hot, dreary walk. + +She was getting away from Tipton and Freshitt, and her own sad +liability to tread in the wrong places on her way to the New Jerusalem. + +Mr. Brooke sat down in his arm-chair, stretched his legs towards the +wood-fire, which had fallen into a wondrous mass of glowing dice +between the dogs, and rubbed his hands gently, looking very mildly +towards Dorothea, but with a neutral leisurely air, as if he had +nothing particular to say. Dorothea closed her pamphlet, as soon as she +was aware of her uncles presence, and rose as if to go. Usually she +would have been interested about her uncles merciful errand on behalf +of the criminal, but her late agitation had made her absent-minded. + +I came back by Lowick, you know, said Mr. Brooke, not as if with any +intention to arrest her departure, but apparently from his usual +tendency to say what he had said before. This fundamental principle of +human speech was markedly exhibited in Mr. Brooke. I lunched there and +saw Casaubons library, and that kind of thing. Theres a sharp air, +driving. Wont you sit down, my dear? You look cold. + +Dorothea felt quite inclined to accept the invitation. Some times, when +her uncles easy way of taking things did not happen to be +exasperating, it was rather soothing. She threw off her mantle and +bonnet, and sat down opposite to him, enjoying the glow, but lifting up +her beautiful hands for a screen. They were not thin hands, or small +hands; but powerful, feminine, maternal hands. She seemed to be holding +them up in propitiation for her passionate desire to know and to think, +which in the unfriendly mediums of Tipton and Freshitt had issued in +crying and red eyelids. + +She bethought herself now of the condemned criminal. What news have +you brought about the sheep-stealer, uncle? + +What, poor Bunch?well, it seems we cant get him offhe is to be +hanged. + +Dorotheas brow took an expression of reprobation and pity. + +Hanged, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with a quiet nod. Poor Romilly! +he would have helped us. I knew Romilly. Casaubon didnt know Romilly. +He is a little buried in books, you know, Casaubon is. + +When a man has great studies and is writing a great work, he must of +course give up seeing much of the world. How can he go about making +acquaintances? + +Thats true. But a man mopes, you know. I have always been a bachelor +too, but I have that sort of disposition that I never moped; it was my +way to go about everywhere and take in everything. I never moped: but I +can see that Casaubon does, you know. He wants a companiona companion, +you know. + +It would be a great honor to any one to be his companion, said +Dorothea, energetically. + +You like him, eh? said Mr. Brooke, without showing any surprise, or +other emotion. Well, now, Ive known Casaubon ten years, ever since he +came to Lowick. But I never got anything out of himany ideas, you +know. However, he is a tiptop man and may be a bishopthat kind of +thing, you know, if Peel stays in. And he has a very high opinion of +you, my dear. + +Dorothea could not speak. + +The fact is, he has a very high opinion indeed of you. And he speaks +uncommonly welldoes Casaubon. He has deferred to me, you not being of +age. In short, I have promised to speak to you, though I told him I +thought there was not much chance. I was bound to tell him that. I +said, my niece is very young, and that kind of thing. But I didnt +think it necessary to go into everything. However, the long and the +short of it is, that he has asked my permission to make you an offer of +marriageof marriage, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with his explanatory +nod. I thought it better to tell you, my dear. + +No one could have detected any anxiety in Mr. Brookes manner, but he +did really wish to know something of his nieces mind, that, if there +were any need for advice, he might give it in time. What feeling he, as +a magistrate who had taken in so many ideas, could make room for, was +unmixedly kind. Since Dorothea did not speak immediately, he repeated, +I thought it better to tell you, my dear. + +Thank you, uncle, said Dorothea, in a clear unwavering tone. I am +very grateful to Mr. Casaubon. If he makes me an offer, I shall accept +him. I admire and honor him more than any man I ever saw. + +Mr. Brooke paused a little, and then said in a lingering low tone, Ah? + Well! He is a good match in some respects. But now, Chettam is a good +match. And our land lies together. I shall never interfere against your +wishes, my dear. People should have their own way in marriage, and that +sort of thingup to a certain point, you know. I have always said that, +up to a certain point. I wish you to marry well; and I have good reason +to believe that Chettam wishes to marry you. I mention it, you know. + +It is impossible that I should ever marry Sir James Chettam, said +Dorothea. If he thinks of marrying me, he has made a great mistake. + +That is it, you see. One never knows. I should have thought Chettam +was just the sort of man a woman would like, now. + +Pray do not mention him in that light again, uncle, said Dorothea, +feeling some of her late irritation revive. + +Mr. Brooke wondered, and felt that women were an inexhaustible subject +of study, since even he at his age was not in a perfect state of +scientific prediction about them. Here was a fellow like Chettam with +no chance at all. + +Well, but Casaubon, now. There is no hurryI mean for you. Its true, +every year will tell upon him. He is over five-and-forty, you know. I +should say a good seven-and-twenty years older than you. To be sure,if +you like learning and standing, and that sort of thing, we cant have +everything. And his income is goodhe has a handsome property +independent of the Churchhis income is good. Still he is not young, +and I must not conceal from you, my dear, that I think his health is +not over-strong. I know nothing else against him. + +I should not wish to have a husband very near my own age, said +Dorothea, with grave decision. I should wish to have a husband who was +above me in judgment and in all knowledge. + +Mr. Brooke repeated his subdued, Ah?I thought you had more of your +own opinion than most girls. I thought you liked your own opinionliked +it, you know. + +I cannot imagine myself living without some opinions, but I should +wish to have good reasons for them, and a wise man could help me to see +which opinions had the best foundation, and would help me to live +according to them. + +Very true. You couldnt put the thing bettercouldnt put it better, +beforehand, you know. But there are oddities in things, continued Mr. +Brooke, whose conscience was really roused to do the best he could for +his niece on this occasion. Life isnt cast in a mouldnot cut out by +rule and line, and that sort of thing. I never married myself, and it +will be the better for you and yours. The fact is, I never loved any +one well enough to put myself into a noose for them. It _is_ a noose, +you know. Temper, now. There is temper. And a husband likes to be +master. + +I know that I must expect trials, uncle. Marriage is a state of higher +duties. I never thought of it as mere personal ease, said poor +Dorothea. + +Well, you are not fond of show, a great establishment, balls, dinners, +that kind of thing. I can see that Casaubons ways might suit you +better than Chettams. And you shall do as you like, my dear. I would +not hinder Casaubon; I said so at once; for there is no knowing how +anything may turn out. You have not the same tastes as every young +lady; and a clergyman and scholarwho may be a bishopthat kind of +thingmay suit you better than Chettam. Chettam is a good fellow, a +good sound-hearted fellow, you know; but he doesnt go much into ideas. +I did, when I was his age. But Casaubons eyes, now. I think he has +hurt them a little with too much reading. + +I should be all the happier, uncle, the more room there was for me to +help him, said Dorothea, ardently. + +You have quite made up your mind, I see. Well, my dear, the fact is, I +have a letter for you in my pocket. Mr. Brooke handed the letter to +Dorothea, but as she rose to go away, he added, There is not too much +hurry, my dear. Think about it, you know. + +When Dorothea had left him, he reflected that he had certainly spoken +strongly: he had put the risks of marriage before her in a striking +manner. It was his duty to do so. But as to pretending to be wise for +young people,no uncle, however much he had travelled in his youth, +absorbed the new ideas, and dined with celebrities now deceased, could +pretend to judge what sort of marriage would turn out well for a young +girl who preferred Casaubon to Chettam. In short, woman was a problem +which, since Mr. Brookes mind felt blank before it, could be hardly +less complicated than the revolutions of an irregular solid. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +Hard students are commonly troubled with gowts, catarrhs, rheums, +cachexia, bradypepsia, bad eyes, stone, and collick, crudities, +oppilations, vertigo, winds, consumptions, and all such diseases as +come by over-much sitting: they are most part lean, dry, ill-colored +and all through immoderate pains and extraordinary studies. If you will +not believe the truth of this, look upon great Tostatus and Thomas +Aquinas works; and tell me whether those men took pains.BURTONS +_Anatomy of Melancholy_, P. I, s. 2. + + +This was Mr. Casaubons letter. + +MY DEAR MISS BROOKE,I have your guardians permission to address you +on a subject than which I have none more at heart. I am not, I trust, +mistaken in the recognition of some deeper correspondence than that of +date in the fact that a consciousness of need in my own life had arisen +contemporaneously with the possibility of my becoming acquainted with +you. For in the first hour of meeting you, I had an impression of your +eminent and perhaps exclusive fitness to supply that need (connected, I +may say, with such activity of the affections as even the +preoccupations of a work too special to be abdicated could not +uninterruptedly dissimulate); and each succeeding opportunity for +observation has given the impression an added depth by convincing me +more emphatically of that fitness which I had preconceived, and thus +evoking more decisively those affections to which I have but now +referred. Our conversations have, I think, made sufficiently clear to +you the tenor of my life and purposes: a tenor unsuited, I am aware, to +the commoner order of minds. But I have discerned in you an elevation +of thought and a capability of devotedness, which I had hitherto not +conceived to be compatible either with the early bloom of youth or with +those graces of sex that may be said at once to win and to confer +distinction when combined, as they notably are in you, with the mental +qualities above indicated. It was, I confess, beyond my hope to meet +with this rare combination of elements both solid and attractive, +adapted to supply aid in graver labors and to cast a charm over vacant +hours; and but for the event of my introduction to you (which, let me +again say, I trust not to be superficially coincident with +foreshadowing needs, but providentially related thereto as stages +towards the completion of a lifes plan), I should presumably have gone +on to the last without any attempt to lighten my solitariness by a +matrimonial union. + Such, my dear Miss Brooke, is the accurate statement of my + feelings; and I rely on your kind indulgence in venturing now to + ask you how far your own are of a nature to confirm my happy + presentiment. To be accepted by you as your husband and the earthly + guardian of your welfare, I should regard as the highest of + providential gifts. In return I can at least offer you an affection + hitherto unwasted, and the faithful consecration of a life which, + however short in the sequel, has no backward pages whereon, if you + choose to turn them, you will find records such as might justly + cause you either bitterness or shame. I await the expression of + your sentiments with an anxiety which it would be the part of + wisdom (were it possible) to divert by a more arduous labor than + usual. But in this order of experience I am still young, and in + looking forward to an unfavorable possibility I cannot but feel + that resignation to solitude will be more difficult after the + temporary illumination of hope. + + +In any case, I shall remain, + Yours with sincere devotion, + EDWARD CASAUBON. + + +Dorothea trembled while she read this letter; then she fell on her +knees, buried her face, and sobbed. She could not pray: under the rush +of solemn emotion in which thoughts became vague and images floated +uncertainly, she could but cast herself, with a childlike sense of +reclining, in the lap of a divine consciousness which sustained her +own. She remained in that attitude till it was time to dress for +dinner. + +How could it occur to her to examine the letter, to look at it +critically as a profession of love? Her whole soul was possessed by the +fact that a fuller life was opening before her: she was a neophyte +about to enter on a higher grade of initiation. She was going to have +room for the energies which stirred uneasily under the dimness and +pressure of her own ignorance and the petty peremptoriness of the +worlds habits. + +Now she would be able to devote herself to large yet definite duties; +now she would be allowed to live continually in the light of a mind +that she could reverence. This hope was not unmixed with the glow of +proud delightthe joyous maiden surprise that she was chosen by the man +whom her admiration had chosen. All Dorotheas passion was transfused +through a mind struggling towards an ideal life; the radiance of her +transfigured girlhood fell on the first object that came within its +level. The impetus with which inclination became resolution was +heightened by those little events of the day which had roused her +discontent with the actual conditions of her life. + +After dinner, when Celia was playing an air, with variations, a small +kind of tinkling which symbolized the aesthetic part of the young +ladies education, Dorothea went up to her room to answer Mr. +Casaubons letter. Why should she defer the answer? She wrote it over +three times, not because she wished to change the wording, but because +her hand was unusually uncertain, and she could not bear that Mr. +Casaubon should think her handwriting bad and illegible. She piqued +herself on writing a hand in which each letter was distinguishable +without any large range of conjecture, and she meant to make much use +of this accomplishment, to save Mr. Casaubons eyes. Three times she +wrote. + +MY DEAR MR. CASAUBON,I am very grateful to you for loving me, and +thinking me worthy to be your wife. I can look forward to no better +happiness than that which would be one with yours. If I said more, it +would only be the same thing written out at greater length, for I +cannot now dwell on any other thought than that I may be through life + + +Yours devotedly, + DOROTHEA BROOKE. + + +Later in the evening she followed her uncle into the library to give +him the letter, that he might send it in the morning. He was surprised, +but his surprise only issued in a few moments silence, during which he +pushed about various objects on his writing-table, and finally stood +with his back to the fire, his glasses on his nose, looking at the +address of Dorotheas letter. + +Have you thought enough about this, my dear? he said at last. + +There was no need to think long, uncle. I know of nothing to make me +vacillate. If I changed my mind, it must be because of something +important and entirely new to me. + +Ah!then you have accepted him? Then Chettam has no chance? Has +Chettam offended youoffended you, you know? What is it you dont like +in Chettam? + +There is nothing that I like in him, said Dorothea, rather +impetuously. + +Mr. Brooke threw his head and shoulders backward as if some one had +thrown a light missile at him. Dorothea immediately felt some +self-rebuke, and said + +I mean in the light of a husband. He is very kind, I thinkreally very +good about the cottages. A well-meaning man. + +But you must have a scholar, and that sort of thing? Well, it lies a +little in our family. I had it myselfthat love of knowledge, and going +into everythinga little too muchit took me too far; though that sort +of thing doesnt often run in the female-line; or it runs underground +like the rivers in Greece, you knowit comes out in the sons. Clever +sons, clever mothers. I went a good deal into that, at one time. +However, my dear, I have always said that people should do as they like +in these things, up to a certain point. I couldnt, as your guardian, +have consented to a bad match. But Casaubon stands well: his position +is good. I am afraid Chettam will be hurt, though, and Mrs. Cadwallader +will blame me. + +That evening, of course, Celia knew nothing of what had happened. She +attributed Dorotheas abstracted manner, and the evidence of further +crying since they had got home, to the temper she had been in about Sir +James Chettam and the buildings, and was careful not to give further +offence: having once said what she wanted to say, Celia had no +disposition to recur to disagreeable subjects. It had been her nature +when a child never to quarrel with any oneonly to observe with wonder +that they quarrelled with her, and looked like turkey-cocks; whereupon +she was ready to play at cats cradle with them whenever they recovered +themselves. And as to Dorothea, it had always been her way to find +something wrong in her sisters words, though Celia inwardly protested +that she always said just how things were, and nothing else: she never +did and never could put words together out of her own head. But the +best of Dodo was, that she did not keep angry for long together. Now, +though they had hardly spoken to each other all the evening, yet when +Celia put by her work, intending to go to bed, a proceeding in which +she was always much the earlier, Dorothea, who was seated on a low +stool, unable to occupy herself except in meditation, said, with the +musical intonation which in moments of deep but quiet feeling made her +speech like a fine bit of recitative + +Celia, dear, come and kiss me, holding her arms open as she spoke. + +Celia knelt down to get the right level and gave her little butterfly +kiss, while Dorothea encircled her with gentle arms and pressed her +lips gravely on each cheek in turn. + +Dont sit up, Dodo, you are so pale to-night: go to bed soon, said +Celia, in a comfortable way, without any touch of pathos. + +No, dear, I am very, very happy, said Dorothea, fervently. + +So much the better, thought Celia. But how strangely Dodo goes from +one extreme to the other. + +The next day, at luncheon, the butler, handing something to Mr. Brooke, +said, Jonas is come back, sir, and has brought this letter. + +Mr. Brooke read the letter, and then, nodding toward Dorothea, said, +Casaubon, my dear: he will be here to dinner; he didnt wait to write +moredidnt wait, you know. + +It could not seem remarkable to Celia that a dinner guest should be +announced to her sister beforehand, but, her eyes following the same +direction as her uncles, she was struck with the peculiar effect of +the announcement on Dorothea. It seemed as if something like the +reflection of a white sunlit wing had passed across her features, +ending in one of her rare blushes. For the first time it entered into +Celias mind that there might be something more between Mr. Casaubon +and her sister than his delight in bookish talk and her delight in +listening. Hitherto she had classed the admiration for this ugly and +learned acquaintance with the admiration for Monsieur Liret at +Lausanne, also ugly and learned. Dorothea had never been tired of +listening to old Monsieur Liret when Celias feet were as cold as +possible, and when it had really become dreadful to see the skin of his +bald head moving about. Why then should her enthusiasm not extend to +Mr. Casaubon simply in the same way as to Monsieur Liret? And it seemed +probable that all learned men had a sort of schoolmasters view of +young people. + +But now Celia was really startled at the suspicion which had darted +into her mind. She was seldom taken by surprise in this way, her +marvellous quickness in observing a certain order of signs generally +preparing her to expect such outward events as she had an interest in. +Not that she now imagined Mr. Casaubon to be already an accepted lover: +she had only begun to feel disgust at the possibility that anything in +Dorotheas mind could tend towards such an issue. Here was something +really to vex her about Dodo: it was all very well not to accept Sir +James Chettam, but the idea of marrying Mr. Casaubon! Celia felt a sort +of shame mingled with a sense of the ludicrous. But perhaps Dodo, if +she were really bordering on such an extravagance, might be turned away +from it: experience had often shown that her impressibility might be +calculated on. The day was damp, and they were not going to walk out, +so they both went up to their sitting-room; and there Celia observed +that Dorothea, instead of settling down with her usual diligent +interest to some occupation, simply leaned her elbow on an open book +and looked out of the window at the great cedar silvered with the damp. +She herself had taken up the making of a toy for the curates children, +and was not going to enter on any subject too precipitately. + +Dorothea was in fact thinking that it was desirable for Celia to know +of the momentous change in Mr. Casaubons position since he had last +been in the house: it did not seem fair to leave her in ignorance of +what would necessarily affect her attitude towards him; but it was +impossible not to shrink from telling her. Dorothea accused herself of +some meanness in this timidity: it was always odious to her to have any +small fears or contrivances about her actions, but at this moment she +was seeking the highest aid possible that she might not dread the +corrosiveness of Celias pretty carnally minded prose. Her reverie was +broken, and the difficulty of decision banished, by Celias small and +rather guttural voice speaking in its usual tone, of a remark aside or +a by the bye. + +Is any one else coming to dine besides Mr. Casaubon? + +Not that I know of. + +I hope there is some one else. Then I shall not hear him eat his soup +so. + +What is there remarkable about his soup-eating? + +Really, Dodo, cant you hear how he scrapes his spoon? And he always +blinks before he speaks. I dont know whether Locke blinked, but Im +sure I am sorry for those who sat opposite to him if he did. + +Celia, said Dorothea, with emphatic gravity, pray dont make any +more observations of that kind. + +Why not? They are quite true, returned Celia, who had her reasons for +persevering, though she was beginning to be a little afraid. + +Many things are true which only the commonest minds observe. + +Then I think the commonest minds must be rather useful. I think it is +a pity Mr. Casaubons mother had not a commoner mind: she might have +taught him better. Celia was inwardly frightened, and ready to run +away, now she had hurled this light javelin. + +Dorotheas feelings had gathered to an avalanche, and there could be no +further preparation. + +It is right to tell you, Celia, that I am engaged to marry Mr. +Casaubon. + +Perhaps Celia had never turned so pale before. The paper man she was +making would have had his leg injured, but for her habitual care of +whatever she held in her hands. She laid the fragile figure down at +once, and sat perfectly still for a few moments. When she spoke there +was a tear gathering. + +Oh, Dodo, I hope you will be happy. Her sisterly tenderness could not +but surmount other feelings at this moment, and her fears were the +fears of affection. + +Dorothea was still hurt and agitated. + +It is quite decided, then? said Celia, in an awed under tone. And +uncle knows? + +I have accepted Mr. Casaubons offer. My uncle brought me the letter +that contained it; he knew about it beforehand. + +I beg your pardon, if I have said anything to hurt you, Dodo, said +Celia, with a slight sob. She never could have thought that she should +feel as she did. There was something funereal in the whole affair, and +Mr. Casaubon seemed to be the officiating clergyman, about whom it +would be indecent to make remarks. + +Never mind, Kitty, do not grieve. We should never admire the same +people. I often offend in something of the same way; I am apt to speak +too strongly of those who dont please me. + +In spite of this magnanimity Dorothea was still smarting: perhaps as +much from Celias subdued astonishment as from her small criticisms. Of +course all the world round Tipton would be out of sympathy with this +marriage. Dorothea knew of no one who thought as she did about life and +its best objects. + +Nevertheless before the evening was at an end she was very happy. In an +hours _tte--tte_ with Mr. Casaubon she talked to him with more +freedom than she had ever felt before, even pouring out her joy at the +thought of devoting herself to him, and of learning how she might best +share and further all his great ends. Mr. Casaubon was touched with an +unknown delight (what man would not have been?) at this childlike +unrestrained ardor: he was not surprised (what lover would have been?) +that he should be the object of it. + +My dear young ladyMiss BrookeDorothea! he said, pressing her hand +between his hands, this is a happiness greater than I had ever +imagined to be in reserve for me. That I should ever meet with a mind +and person so rich in the mingled graces which could render marriage +desirable, was far indeed from my conception. You have allnay, more +than allthose qualities which I have ever regarded as the +characteristic excellences of womanhood. The great charm of your sex is +its capability of an ardent self-sacrificing affection, and herein we +see its fitness to round and complete the existence of our own. +Hitherto I have known few pleasures save of the severer kind: my +satisfactions have been those of the solitary student. I have been +little disposed to gather flowers that would wither in my hand, but now +I shall pluck them with eagerness, to place them in your bosom. + +No speech could have been more thoroughly honest in its intention: the +frigid rhetoric at the end was as sincere as the bark of a dog, or the +cawing of an amorous rook. Would it not be rash to conclude that there +was no passion behind those sonnets to Delia which strike us as the +thin music of a mandolin? + +Dorotheas faith supplied all that Mr. Casaubons words seemed to leave +unsaid: what believer sees a disturbing omission or infelicity? The +text, whether of prophet or of poet, expands for whatever we can put +into it, and even his bad grammar is sublime. + +I am very ignorantyou will quite wonder at my ignorance, said +Dorothea. I have so many thoughts that may be quite mistaken; and now +I shall be able to tell them all to you, and ask you about them. But, +she added, with rapid imagination of Mr. Casaubons probable feeling, +I will not trouble you too much; only when you are inclined to listen +to me. You must often be weary with the pursuit of subjects in your own +track. I shall gain enough if you will take me with you there. + +How should I be able now to persevere in any path without your +companionship? said Mr. Casaubon, kissing her candid brow, and feeling +that heaven had vouchsafed him a blessing in every way suited to his +peculiar wants. He was being unconsciously wrought upon by the charms +of a nature which was entirely without hidden calculations either for +immediate effects or for remoter ends. It was this which made Dorothea +so childlike, and, according to some judges, so stupid, with all her +reputed cleverness; as, for example, in the present case of throwing +herself, metaphorically speaking, at Mr. Casaubons feet, and kissing +his unfashionable shoe-ties as if he were a Protestant Pope. She was +not in the least teaching Mr. Casaubon to ask if he were good enough +for her, but merely asking herself anxiously how she could be good +enough for Mr. Casaubon. Before he left the next day it had been +decided that the marriage should take place within six weeks. Why not? +Mr. Casaubons house was ready. It was not a parsonage, but a +considerable mansion, with much land attached to it. The parsonage was +inhabited by the curate, who did all the duty except preaching the +morning sermon. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +My ladys tongue is like the meadow blades, +That cut you stroking them with idle hand. +Nice cutting is her function: she divides +With spiritual edge the millet-seed, +And makes intangible savings. + + +As Mr. Casaubons carriage was passing out of the gateway, it arrested +the entrance of a pony phaeton driven by a lady with a servant seated +behind. It was doubtful whether the recognition had been mutual, for +Mr. Casaubon was looking absently before him; but the lady was +quick-eyed, and threw a nod and a How do you do? in the nick of time. +In spite of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, it was plain +that the lodge-keeper regarded her as an important personage, from the +low curtsy which was dropped on the entrance of the small phaeton. + +Well, Mrs. Fitchett, how are your fowls laying now? said the +high-colored, dark-eyed lady, with the clearest chiselled utterance. + +Pretty well for laying, madam, but theyve taen to eating their eggs: +Ive no peace o mind with em at all. + +Oh, the cannibals! Better sell them cheap at once. What will you sell +them a couple? One cant eat fowls of a bad character at a high price. + +Well, madam, half-a-crown: I couldnt let em go, not under. + +Half-a-crown, these times! Come nowfor the Rectors chicken-broth on +a Sunday. He has consumed all ours that I can spare. You are half paid +with the sermon, Mrs. Fitchett, remember that. Take a pair of +tumbler-pigeons for themlittle beauties. You must come and see them. +You have no tumblers among your pigeons. + +Well, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and see em after work. Hes +very hot on new sorts; to oblige you. + +Oblige me! It will be the best bargain he ever made. A pair of church +pigeons for a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own eggs! +Dont you and Fitchett boast too much, that is all! + +The phaeton was driven onwards with the last words, leaving Mrs. +Fitchett laughing and shaking her head slowly, with an interjectional +Sure_ly_, sure_ly_!from which it might be inferred that she would +have found the country-side somewhat duller if the Rectors lady had +been less free-spoken and less of a skinflint. Indeed, both the farmers +and laborers in the parishes of Freshitt and Tipton would have felt a +sad lack of conversation but for the stories about what Mrs. +Cadwallader said and did: a lady of immeasurably high birth, descended, +as it were, from unknown earls, dim as the crowd of heroic shadeswho +pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and cut jokes in the most +companionable manner, though with a turn of tongue that let you know +who she was. Such a lady gave a neighborliness to both rank and +religion, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe. A much more +exemplary character with an infusion of sour dignity would not have +furthered their comprehension of the Thirty-nine Articles, and would +have been less socially uniting. + +Mr. Brooke, seeing Mrs. Cadwalladers merits from a different point of +view, winced a little when her name was announced in the library, where +he was sitting alone. + +I see you have had our Lowick Cicero here, she said, seating herself +comfortably, throwing back her wraps, and showing a thin but well-built +figure. I suspect you and he are brewing some bad polities, else you +would not be seeing so much of the lively man. I shall inform against +you: remember you are both suspicious characters since you took Peels +side about the Catholic Bill. I shall tell everybody that you are going +to put up for Middlemarch on the Whig side when old Pinkerton resigns, +and that Casaubon is going to help you in an underhand manner: going to +bribe the voters with pamphlets, and throw open the public-houses to +distribute them. Come, confess! + +Nothing of the sort, said Mr. Brooke, smiling and rubbing his +eye-glasses, but really blushing a little at the impeachment. Casaubon +and I dont talk politics much. He doesnt care much about the +philanthropic side of things; punishments, and that kind of thing. He +only cares about Church questions. That is not my line of action, you +know. + +Ra-a-ther too much, my friend. I have heard of your doings. Who was it +that sold his bit of land to the Papists at Middlemarch? I believe you +bought it on purpose. You are a perfect Guy Faux. See if you are not +burnt in effigy this 5th of November coming. Humphrey would not come to +quarrel with you about it, so I am come. + +Very good. I was prepared to be persecuted for not persecutingnot +persecuting, you know. + +There you go! That is a piece of clap-trap you have got ready for the +hustings. Now, _do not_ let them lure you to the hustings, my dear Mr. +Brooke. A man always makes a fool of himself, speechifying: theres no +excuse but being on the right side, so that you can ask a blessing on +your humming and hawing. You will lose yourself, I forewarn you. You +will make a Saturday pie of all parties opinions, and be pelted by +everybody. + +That is what I expect, you know, said Mr. Brooke, not wishing to +betray how little he enjoyed this prophetic sketchwhat I expect as an +independent man. As to the Whigs, a man who goes with the thinkers is +not likely to be hooked on by any party. He may go with them up to a +certain pointup to a certain point, you know. But that is what you +ladies never understand. + +Where your certain point is? No. I should like to be told how a man +can have any certain point when he belongs to no partyleading a roving +life, and never letting his friends know his address. Nobody knows +where Brooke will betheres no counting on Brookethat is what people +say of you, to be quite frank. Now, do turn respectable. How will you +like going to Sessions with everybody looking shy on you, and you with +a bad conscience and an empty pocket? + +I dont pretend to argue with a lady on politics, said Mr. Brooke, +with an air of smiling indifference, but feeling rather unpleasantly +conscious that this attack of Mrs. Cadwalladers had opened the +defensive campaign to which certain rash steps had exposed him. Your +sex are not thinkers, you know_varium et mutabile semper_that kind of +thing. You dont know Virgil. I knewMr. Brooke reflected in time that +he had not had the personal acquaintance of the Augustan poetI was +going to say, poor Stoddart, you know. That was what _he_ said. You +ladies are always against an independent attitudea mans caring for +nothing but truth, and that sort of thing. And there is no part of the +county where opinion is narrower than it is hereI dont mean to throw +stones, you know, but somebody is wanted to take the independent line; +and if I dont take it, who will? + +Who? Why, any upstart who has got neither blood nor position. People +of standing should consume their independent nonsense at home, not hawk +it about. And you! who are going to marry your niece, as good as your +daughter, to one of our best men. Sir James would be cruelly annoyed: +it will be too hard on him if you turn round now and make yourself a +Whig sign-board. + +Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for Dorotheas engagement had no +sooner been decided, than he had thought of Mrs. Cadwalladers +prospective taunts. It might have been easy for ignorant observers to +say, Quarrel with Mrs. Cadwallader; but where is a country gentleman +to go who quarrels with his oldest neighbors? Who could taste the fine +flavor in the name of Brooke if it were delivered casually, like wine +without a seal? Certainly a man can only be cosmopolitan up to a +certain point. + +I hope Chettam and I shall always be good friends; but I am sorry to +say there is no prospect of his marrying my niece, said Mr. Brooke, +much relieved to see through the window that Celia was coming in. + +Why not? said Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharp note of surprise. It is +hardly a fortnight since you and I were talking about it. + +My niece has chosen another suitorhas chosen him, you know. I have +had nothing to do with it. I should have preferred Chettam; and I +should have said Chettam was the man any girl would have chosen. But +there is no accounting for these things. Your sex is capricious, you +know. + +Why, whom do you mean to say that you are going to let her marry? +Mrs. Cadwalladers mind was rapidly surveying the possibilities of +choice for Dorothea. + +But here Celia entered, blooming from a walk in the garden, and the +greeting with her delivered Mr. Brooke from the necessity of answering +immediately. He got up hastily, and saying, By the way, I must speak +to Wright about the horses, shuffled quickly out of the room. + +My dear child, what is this?this about your sisters engagement? +said Mrs. Cadwallader. + +She is engaged to marry Mr. Casaubon, said Celia, resorting, as +usual, to the simplest statement of fact, and enjoying this opportunity +of speaking to the Rectors wife alone. + +This is frightful. How long has it been going on? + +I only knew of it yesterday. They are to be married in six weeks. + +Well, my dear, I wish you joy of your brother-in-law. + +I am so sorry for Dorothea. + +Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose. + +Yes; she says Mr. Casaubon has a great soul. + +With all my heart. + +Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader, I dont think it can be nice to marry a man with +a great soul. + +Well, my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now; when the +next comes and wants to marry you, dont you accept him. + +Im sure I never should. + +No; one such in a family is enough. So your sister never cared about +Sir James Chettam? What would you have said to _him_ for a +brother-in-law? + +I should have liked that very much. I am sure he would have been a +good husband. Only, Celia added, with a slight blush (she sometimes +seemed to blush as she breathed), I dont think he would have suited +Dorothea. + +Not high-flown enough? + +Dodo is very strict. She thinks so much about everything, and is so +particular about what one says. Sir James never seemed to please her. + +She must have encouraged him, I am sure. That is not very creditable. + +Please dont be angry with Dodo; she does not see things. She thought +so much about the cottages, and she was rude to Sir James sometimes; +but he is so kind, he never noticed it. + +Well, said Mrs. Cadwallader, putting on her shawl, and rising, as if +in haste, I must go straight to Sir James and break this to him. He +will have brought his mother back by this time, and I must call. Your +uncle will never tell him. We are all disappointed, my dear. Young +people should think of their families in marrying. I set a bad +examplemarried a poor clergyman, and made myself a pitiable object +among the De Bracysobliged to get my coals by stratagem, and pray to +heaven for my salad oil. However, Casaubon has money enough; I must do +him that justice. As to his blood, I suppose the family quarterings are +three cuttle-fish sable, and a commentator rampant. By the bye, before +I go, my dear, I must speak to your Mrs. Carter about pastry. I want to +send my young cook to learn of her. Poor people with four children, +like us, you know, cant afford to keep a good cook. I have no doubt +Mrs. Carter will oblige me. Sir Jamess cook is a perfect dragon. + +In less than an hour, Mrs. Cadwallader had circumvented Mrs. Carter and +driven to Freshitt Hall, which was not far from her own parsonage, her +husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curate in Tipton. + +Sir James Chettam had returned from the short journey which had kept +him absent for a couple of days, and had changed his dress, intending +to ride over to Tipton Grange. His horse was standing at the door when +Mrs. Cadwallader drove up, and he immediately appeared there himself, +whip in hand. Lady Chettam had not yet returned, but Mrs. Cadwalladers +errand could not be despatched in the presence of grooms, so she asked +to be taken into the conservatory close by, to look at the new plants; +and on coming to a contemplative stand, she said + +I have a great shock for you; I hope you are not so far gone in love +as you pretended to be. + +It was of no use protesting against Mrs. Cadwalladers way of putting +things. But Sir Jamess countenance changed a little. He felt a vague +alarm. + +I do believe Brooke is going to expose himself after all. I accused +him of meaning to stand for Middlemarch on the Liberal side, and he +looked silly and never denied ittalked about the independent line, and +the usual nonsense. + +Is that all? said Sir James, much relieved. + +Why, rejoined Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharper note, you dont mean +to say that you would like him to turn public man in that waymaking a +sort of political Cheap Jack of himself? + +He might be dissuaded, I should think. He would not like the expense. + +That is what I told him. He is vulnerable to reason therealways a few +grains of common-sense in an ounce of miserliness. Miserliness is a +capital quality to run in families; its the safe side for madness to +dip on. And there must be a little crack in the Brooke family, else we +should not see what we are to see. + +What? Brooke standing for Middlemarch? + +Worse than that. I really feel a little responsible. I always told you +Miss Brooke would be such a fine match. I knew there was a great deal +of nonsense in hera flighty sort of Methodistical stuff. But these +things wear out of girls. However, I am taken by surprise for once. + +What do you mean, Mrs. Cadwallader? said Sir James. His fear lest +Miss Brooke should have run away to join the Moravian Brethren, or some +preposterous sect unknown to good society, was a little allayed by the +knowledge that Mrs. Cadwallader always made the worst of things. What +has happened to Miss Brooke? Pray speak out. + +Very well. She is engaged to be married. Mrs. Cadwallader paused a +few moments, observing the deeply hurt expression in her friends face, +which he was trying to conceal by a nervous smile, while he whipped his +boot; but she soon added, Engaged to Casaubon. + +Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it up. Perhaps his face +had never before gathered so much concentrated disgust as when he +turned to Mrs. Cadwallader and repeated, Casaubon? + +Even so. You know my errand now. + +Good God! It is horrible! He is no better than a mummy! (The point of +view has to be allowed for, as that of a blooming and disappointed +rival.) + +She says, he is a great soul.A great bladder for dried peas to rattle +in! said Mrs. Cadwallader. + +What business has an old bachelor like that to marry? said Sir James. +He has one foot in the grave. + +He means to draw it out again, I suppose. + +Brooke ought not to allow it: he should insist on its being put off +till she is of age. She would think better of it then. What is a +guardian for? + +As if you could ever squeeze a resolution out of Brooke! + +Cadwallader might talk to him. + +Not he! Humphrey finds everybody charming. I never can get him to +abuse Casaubon. He will even speak well of the bishop, though I tell +him it is unnatural in a beneficed clergyman; what can one do with a +husband who attends so little to the decencies? I hide it as well as I +can by abusing everybody myself. Come, come, cheer up! you are well rid +of Miss Brooke, a girl who would have been requiring you to see the +stars by daylight. Between ourselves, little Celia is worth two of her, +and likely after all to be the better match. For this marriage to +Casaubon is as good as going to a nunnery. + +Oh, on my own accountit is for Miss Brookes sake I think her friends +should try to use their influence. + +Well, Humphrey doesnt know yet. But when I tell him, you may depend +on it he will say, Why not? Casaubon is a good fellowand youngyoung +enough. These charitable people never know vinegar from wine till they +have swallowed it and got the colic. However, if I were a man I should +prefer Celia, especially when Dorothea was gone. The truth is, you have +been courting one and have won the other. I can see that she admires +you almost as much as a man expects to be admired. If it were any one +but me who said so, you might think it exaggeration. Good-by! + +Sir James handed Mrs. Cadwallader to the phaeton, and then jumped on +his horse. He was not going to renounce his ride because of his +friends unpleasant newsonly to ride the faster in some other +direction than that of Tipton Grange. + +Now, why on earth should Mrs. Cadwallader have been at all busy about +Miss Brookes marriage; and why, when one match that she liked to think +she had a hand in was frustrated, should she have straightway contrived +the preliminaries of another? Was there any ingenious plot, any +hide-and-seek course of action, which might be detected by a careful +telescopic watch? Not at all: a telescope might have swept the parishes +of Tipton and Freshitt, the whole area visited by Mrs. Cadwallader in +her phaeton, without witnessing any interview that could excite +suspicion, or any scene from which she did not return with the same +unperturbed keenness of eye and the same high natural color. In fact, +if that convenient vehicle had existed in the days of the Seven Sages, +one of them would doubtless have remarked, that you can know little of +women by following them about in their pony-phaetons. Even with a +microscope directed on a water-drop we find ourselves making +interpretations which turn out to be rather coarse; for whereas under a +weak lens you may seem to see a creature exhibiting an active voracity +into which other smaller creatures actively play as if they were so +many animated tax-pennies, a stronger lens reveals to you certain +tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these victims while the +swallower waits passively at his receipt of custom. In this way, +metaphorically speaking, a strong lens applied to Mrs. Cadwalladers +match-making will show a play of minute causes producing what may be +called thought and speech vortices to bring her the sort of food she +needed. Her life was rurally simple, quite free from secrets either +foul, dangerous, or otherwise important, and not consciously affected +by the great affairs of the world. All the more did the affairs of the +great world interest her, when communicated in the letters of high-born +relations: the way in which fascinating younger sons had gone to the +dogs by marrying their mistresses; the fine old-blooded idiocy of young +Lord Tapir, and the furious gouty humors of old Lord Megatherium; the +exact crossing of genealogies which had brought a coronet into a new +branch and widened the relations of scandal,these were topics of which +she retained details with the utmost accuracy, and reproduced them in +an excellent pickle of epigrams, which she herself enjoyed the more +because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-birth as she did +in game and vermin. She would never have disowned any one on the ground +of poverty: a De Bracy reduced to take his dinner in a basin would have +seemed to her an example of pathos worth exaggerating, and I fear his +aristocratic vices would not have horrified her. But her feeling +towards the vulgar rich was a sort of religious hatred: they had +probably made all their money out of high retail prices, and Mrs. +Cadwallader detested high prices for everything that was not paid in +kind at the Rectory: such people were no part of Gods design in making +the world; and their accent was an affliction to the ears. A town where +such monsters abounded was hardly more than a sort of low comedy, which +could not be taken account of in a well-bred scheme of the universe. +Let any lady who is inclined to be hard on Mrs. Cadwallader inquire +into the comprehensiveness of her own beautiful views, and be quite +sure that they afford accommodation for all the lives which have the +honor to coexist with hers. + +With such a mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came +near into the form that suited it, how could Mrs. Cadwallader feel that +the Miss Brookes and their matrimonial prospects were alien to her? +especially as it had been the habit of years for her to scold Mr. +Brooke with the friendliest frankness, and let him know in confidence +that she thought him a poor creature. From the first arrival of the +young ladies in Tipton she had prearranged Dorotheas marriage with Sir +James, and if it had taken place would have been quite sure that it was +her doing: that it should not take place after she had preconceived it, +caused her an irritation which every thinker will sympathize with. She +was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, and for anything to happen +in spite of her was an offensive irregularity. As to freaks like this +of Miss Brookes, Mrs. Cadwallader had no patience with them, and now +saw that her opinion of this girl had been infected with some of her +husbands weak charitableness: those Methodistical whims, that air of +being more religious than the rector and curate together, came from a +deeper and more constitutional disease than she had been willing to +believe. + +However, said Mrs. Cadwallader, first to herself and afterwards to +her husband, I throw her over: there was a chance, if she had married +Sir James, of her becoming a sane, sensible woman. He would never have +contradicted her, and when a woman is not contradicted, she has no +motive for obstinacy in her absurdities. But now I wish her joy of her +hair shirt. + +It followed that Mrs. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir +James, and having made up her mind that it was to be the younger Miss +Brooke, there could not have been a more skilful move towards the +success of her plan than her hint to the baronet that he had made an +impression on Celias heart. For he was not one of those gentlemen who +languish after the unattainable Sapphos apple that laughs from the +topmost boughthe charms which + +Smile like the knot of cowslips on the cliff, +Not to be come at by the willing hand. + + +He had no sonnets to write, and it could not strike him agreeably that +he was not an object of preference to the woman whom he had preferred. +Already the knowledge that Dorothea had chosen Mr. Casaubon had bruised +his attachment and relaxed its hold. Although Sir James was a +sportsman, he had some other feelings towards women than towards grouse +and foxes, and did not regard his future wife in the light of prey, +valuable chiefly for the excitements of the chase. Neither was he so +well acquainted with the habits of primitive races as to feel that an +ideal combat for her, tomahawk in hand, so to speak, was necessary to +the historical continuity of the marriage-tie. On the contrary, having +the amiable vanity which knits us to those who are fond of us, and +disinclines us to those who are indifferent, and also a good grateful +nature, the mere idea that a woman had a kindness towards him spun +little threads of tenderness from out his heart towards hers. + +Thus it happened, that after Sir James had ridden rather fast for half +an hour in a direction away from Tipton Grange, he slackened his pace, +and at last turned into a road which would lead him back by a shorter +cut. Various feelings wrought in him the determination after all to go +to the Grange to-day as if nothing new had happened. He could not help +rejoicing that he had never made the offer and been rejected; mere +friendly politeness required that he should call to see Dorothea about +the cottages, and now happily Mrs. Cadwallader had prepared him to +offer his congratulations, if necessary, without showing too much +awkwardness. He really did not like it: giving up Dorothea was very +painful to him; but there was something in the resolve to make this +visit forthwith and conquer all show of feeling, which was a sort of +file-biting and counter-irritant. And without his distinctly +recognizing the impulse, there certainly was present in him the sense +that Celia would be there, and that he should pay her more attention +than he had done before. + +We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between +breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale +about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, nothing! Pride +helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide +our own hurtsnot to hurt others. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Piacer e popone +Vuol la sua stagione. +_Italian Proverb_. + + +Mr. Casaubon, as might be expected, spent a great deal of his time at +the Grange in these weeks, and the hindrance which courtship occasioned +to the progress of his great workthe Key to all Mythologiesnaturally +made him look forward the more eagerly to the happy termination of +courtship. But he had deliberately incurred the hindrance, having made +up his mind that it was now time for him to adorn his life with the +graces of female companionship, to irradiate the gloom which fatigue +was apt to hang over the intervals of studious labor with the play of +female fancy, and to secure in this, his culminating age, the solace of +female tendance for his declining years. Hence he determined to abandon +himself to the stream of feeling, and perhaps was surprised to find +what an exceedingly shallow rill it was. As in droughty regions baptism +by immersion could only be performed symbolically, Mr. Casaubon found +that sprinkling was the utmost approach to a plunge which his stream +would afford him; and he concluded that the poets had much exaggerated +the force of masculine passion. Nevertheless, he observed with pleasure +that Miss Brooke showed an ardent submissive affection which promised +to fulfil his most agreeable previsions of marriage. It had once or +twice crossed his mind that possibly there was some deficiency in +Dorothea to account for the moderation of his abandonment; but he was +unable to discern the deficiency, or to figure to himself a woman who +would have pleased him better; so that there was clearly no reason to +fall back upon but the exaggerations of human tradition. + +Could I not be preparing myself now to be more useful? said Dorothea +to him, one morning, early in the time of courtship; could I not learn +to read Latin and Greek aloud to you, as Miltons daughters did to +their father, without understanding what they read? + +I fear that would be wearisome to you, said Mr. Casaubon, smiling; +and, indeed, if I remember rightly, the young women you have mentioned +regarded that exercise in unknown tongues as a ground for rebellion +against the poet. + +Yes; but in the first place they were very naughty girls, else they +would have been proud to minister to such a father; and in the second +place they might have studied privately and taught themselves to +understand what they read, and then it would have been interesting. I +hope you dont expect me to be naughty and stupid? + +I expect you to be all that an exquisite young lady can be in every +possible relation of life. Certainly it might be a great advantage if +you were able to copy the Greek character, and to that end it were well +to begin with a little reading. + +Dorothea seized this as a precious permission. She would not have asked +Mr. Casaubon at once to teach her the languages, dreading of all things +to be tiresome instead of helpful; but it was not entirely out of +devotion to her future husband that she wished to know Latin and Greek. +Those provinces of masculine knowledge seemed to her a standing-ground +from which all truth could be seen more truly. As it was, she +constantly doubted her own conclusions, because she felt her own +ignorance: how could she be confident that one-roomed cottages were not +for the glory of God, when men who knew the classics appeared to +conciliate indifference to the cottages with zeal for the glory? +Perhaps even Hebrew might be necessaryat least the alphabet and a few +rootsin order to arrive at the core of things, and judge soundly on +the social duties of the Christian. And she had not reached that point +of renunciation at which she would have been satisfied with having a +wise husband: she wished, poor child, to be wise herself. Miss Brooke +was certainly very naive with all her alleged cleverness. Celia, whose +mind had never been thought too powerful, saw the emptiness of other +peoples pretensions much more readily. To have in general but little +feeling, seems to be the only security against feeling too much on any +particular occasion. + +However, Mr. Casaubon consented to listen and teach for an hour +together, like a schoolmaster of little boys, or rather like a lover, +to whom a mistresss elementary ignorance and difficulties have a +touching fitness. Few scholars would have disliked teaching the +alphabet under such circumstances. But Dorothea herself was a little +shocked and discouraged at her own stupidity, and the answers she got +to some timid questions about the value of the Greek accents gave her a +painful suspicion that here indeed there might be secrets not capable +of explanation to a womans reason. + +Mr. Brooke had no doubt on that point, and expressed himself with his +usual strength upon it one day that he came into the library while the +reading was going forward. + +Well, but now, Casaubon, such deep studies, classics, mathematics, +that kind of thing, are too taxing for a womantoo taxing, you know. + +Dorothea is learning to read the characters simply, said Mr. +Casaubon, evading the question. She had the very considerate thought +of saving my eyes. + +Ah, well, without understanding, you knowthat may not be so bad. But +there is a lightness about the feminine minda touch and gomusic, the +fine arts, that kind of thingthey should study those up to a certain +point, women should; but in a light way, you know. A woman should be +able to sit down and play you or sing you a good old English tune. That +is what I like; though I have heard most thingsbeen at the opera in +Vienna: Gluck, Mozart, everything of that sort. But Im a conservative +in musicits not like ideas, you know. I stick to the good old tunes. + +Mr. Casaubon is not fond of the piano, and I am very glad he is not, +said Dorothea, whose slight regard for domestic music and feminine fine +art must be forgiven her, considering the small tinkling and smearing +in which they chiefly consisted at that dark period. She smiled and +looked up at her betrothed with grateful eyes. If he had always been +asking her to play the Last Rose of Summer, she would have required +much resignation. He says there is only an old harpsichord at Lowick, +and it is covered with books. + +Ah, there you are behind Celia, my dear. Celia, now, plays very +prettily, and is always ready to play. However, since Casaubon does not +like it, you are all right. But its a pity you should not have little +recreations of that sort, Casaubon: the bow always strungthat kind of +thing, you knowwill not do. + +I never could look on it in the light of a recreation to have my ears +teased with measured noises, said Mr. Casaubon. A tune much iterated +has the ridiculous effect of making the words in my mind perform a sort +of minuet to keep timean effect hardly tolerable, I imagine, after +boyhood. As to the grander forms of music, worthy to accompany solemn +celebrations, and even to serve as an educating influence according to +the ancient conception, I say nothing, for with these we are not +immediately concerned. + +No; but music of that sort I should enjoy, said Dorothea. When we +were coming home from Lausanne my uncle took us to hear the great organ +at Freiberg, and it made me sob. + +That kind of thing is not healthy, my dear, said Mr. Brooke. +Casaubon, she will be in your hands now: you must teach my niece to +take things more quietly, eh, Dorothea? + +He ended with a smile, not wishing to hurt his niece, but really +thinking that it was perhaps better for her to be early married to so +sober a fellow as Casaubon, since she would not hear of Chettam. + +It is wonderful, though, he said to himself as he shuffled out of the +roomit is wonderful that she should have liked him. However, the +match is good. I should have been travelling out of my brief to have +hindered it, let Mrs. Cadwallader say what she will. He is pretty +certain to be a bishop, is Casaubon. That was a very seasonable +pamphlet of his on the Catholic Question:a deanery at least. They owe +him a deanery. + +And here I must vindicate a claim to philosophical reflectiveness, by +remarking that Mr. Brooke on this occasion little thought of the +Radical speech which, at a later period, he was led to make on the +incomes of the bishops. What elegant historian would neglect a striking +opportunity for pointing out that his heroes did not foresee the +history of the world, or even their own actions?For example, that +Henry of Navarre, when a Protestant baby, little thought of being a +Catholic monarch; or that Alfred the Great, when he measured his +laborious nights with burning candles, had no idea of future gentlemen +measuring their idle days with watches. Here is a mine of truth, which, +however vigorously it may be worked, is likely to outlast our coal. + +But of Mr. Brooke I make a further remark perhaps less warranted by +precedentnamely, that if he had foreknown his speech, it might not +have made any great difference. To think with pleasure of his nieces +husband having a large ecclesiastical income was one thingto make a +Liberal speech was another thing; and it is a narrow mind which cannot +look at a subject from various points of view. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now, +And you her father. Every gentle maid +Should have a guardian in each gentleman. + + +It was wonderful to Sir James Chettam how well he continued to like +going to the Grange after he had once encountered the difficulty of +seeing Dorothea for the first time in the light of a woman who was +engaged to another man. Of course the forked lightning seemed to pass +through him when he first approached her, and he remained conscious +throughout the interview of hiding uneasiness; but, good as he was, it +must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have been if +he had thought his rival a brilliant and desirable match. He had no +sense of being eclipsed by Mr. Casaubon; he was only shocked that +Dorothea was under a melancholy illusion, and his mortification lost +some of its bitterness by being mingled with compassion. + +Nevertheless, while Sir James said to himself that he had completely +resigned her, since with the perversity of a Desdemona she had not +affected a proposed match that was clearly suitable and according to +nature; he could not yet be quite passive under the idea of her +engagement to Mr. Casaubon. On the day when he first saw them together +in the light of his present knowledge, it seemed to him that he had not +taken the affair seriously enough. Brooke was really culpable; he ought +to have hindered it. Who could speak to him? Something might be done +perhaps even now, at least to defer the marriage. On his way home he +turned into the Rectory and asked for Mr. Cadwallader. Happily, the +Rector was at home, and his visitor was shown into the study, where all +the fishing tackle hung. But he himself was in a little room adjoining, +at work with his turning apparatus, and he called to the baronet to +join him there. The two were better friends than any other landholder +and clergyman in the countya significant fact which was in agreement +with the amiable expression of their faces. + +Mr. Cadwallader was a large man, with full lips and a sweet smile; very +plain and rough in his exterior, but with that solid imperturbable ease +and good-humor which is infectious, and like great grassy hills in the +sunshine, quiets even an irritated egoism, and makes it rather ashamed +of itself. Well, how are you? he said, showing a hand not quite fit +to be grasped. Sorry I missed you before. Is there anything +particular? You look vexed. + +Sir Jamess brow had a little crease in it, a little depression of the +eyebrow, which he seemed purposely to exaggerate as he answered. + +It is only this conduct of Brookes. I really think somebody should +speak to him. + +What? meaning to stand? said Mr. Cadwallader, going on with the +arrangement of the reels which he had just been turning. I hardly +think he means it. But wheres the harm, if he likes it? Any one who +objects to Whiggery should be glad when the Whigs dont put up the +strongest fellow. They wont overturn the Constitution with our friend +Brookes head for a battering ram. + +Oh, I dont mean that, said Sir James, who, after putting down his +hat and throwing himself into a chair, had begun to nurse his leg and +examine the sole of his boot with much bitterness. I mean this +marriage. I mean his letting that blooming young girl marry Casaubon. + +What is the matter with Casaubon? I see no harm in himif the girl +likes him. + +She is too young to know what she likes. Her guardian ought to +interfere. He ought not to allow the thing to be done in this headlong +manner. I wonder a man like you, Cadwalladera man with daughters, can +look at the affair with indifference: and with such a heart as yours! +Do think seriously about it. + +I am not joking; I am as serious as possible, said the Rector, with a +provoking little inward laugh. You are as bad as Elinor. She has been +wanting me to go and lecture Brooke; and I have reminded her that her +friends had a very poor opinion of the match she made when she married +me. + +But look at Casaubon, said Sir James, indignantly. He must be fifty, +and I dont believe he could ever have been much more than the shadow +of a man. Look at his legs! + +Confound you handsome young fellows! you think of having it all your +own way in the world. You dont understand women. They dont admire you +half so much as you admire yourselves. Elinor used to tell her sisters +that she married me for my uglinessit was so various and amusing that +it had quite conquered her prudence. + +You! it was easy enough for a woman to love you. But this is no +question of beauty. I dont _like_ Casaubon. This was Sir Jamess +strongest way of implying that he thought ill of a mans character. + +Why? what do you know against him? said the Rector laying down his +reels, and putting his thumbs into his armholes with an air of +attention. + +Sir James paused. He did not usually find it easy to give his reasons: +it seemed to him strange that people should not know them without being +told, since he only felt what was reasonable. At last he said + +Now, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? + +Well, yes. I dont mean of the melting sort, but a sound kernel, +_that_ you may be sure of. He is very good to his poor relations: +pensions several of the women, and is educating a young fellow at a +good deal of expense. Casaubon acts up to his sense of justice. His +mothers sister made a bad matcha Pole, I thinklost herselfat any +rate was disowned by her family. If it had not been for that, Casaubon +would not have had so much money by half. I believe he went himself to +find out his cousins, and see what he could do for them. Every man +would not ring so well as that, if you tried his metal. _You_ would, +Chettam; but not every man. + +I dont know, said Sir James, coloring. I am not so sure of myself. +He paused a moment, and then added, That was a right thing for +Casaubon to do. But a man may wish to do what is right, and yet be a +sort of parchment code. A woman may not be happy with him. And I think +when a girl is so young as Miss Brooke is, her friends ought to +interfere a little to hinder her from doing anything foolish. You +laugh, because you fancy I have some feeling on my own account. But +upon my honor, it is not that. I should feel just the same if I were +Miss Brookes brother or uncle. + +Well, but what should you do? + +I should say that the marriage must not be decided on until she was of +age. And depend upon it, in that case, it would never come off. I wish +you saw it as I doI wish you would talk to Brooke about it. + +Sir James rose as he was finishing his sentence, for he saw Mrs. +Cadwallader entering from the study. She held by the hand her youngest +girl, about five years old, who immediately ran to papa, and was made +comfortable on his knee. + +I hear what you are talking about, said the wife. But you will make +no impression on Humphrey. As long as the fish rise to his bait, +everybody is what he ought to be. Bless you, Casaubon has got a +trout-stream, and does not care about fishing in it himself: could +there be a better fellow? + +Well, there is something in that, said the Rector, with his quiet, +inward laugh. It is a very good quality in a man to have a +trout-stream. + +But seriously, said Sir James, whose vexation had not yet spent +itself, dont you think the Rector might do some good by speaking? + +Oh, I told you beforehand what he would say, answered Mrs. +Cadwallader, lifting up her eyebrows. I have done what I could: I wash +my hands of the marriage. + +In the first place, said the Rector, looking rather grave, it would +be nonsensical to expect that I could convince Brooke, and make him act +accordingly. Brooke is a very good fellow, but pulpy; he will run into +any mould, but he wont keep shape. + +He might keep shape long enough to defer the marriage, said Sir +James. + +But, my dear Chettam, why should I use my influence to Casaubons +disadvantage, unless I were much surer than I am that I should be +acting for the advantage of Miss Brooke? I know no harm of Casaubon. I +dont care about his Xisuthrus and Fee-fo-fum and the rest; but then he +doesnt care about my fishing-tackle. As to the line he took on the +Catholic Question, that was unexpected; but he has always been civil to +me, and I dont see why I should spoil his sport. For anything I can +tell, Miss Brooke may be happier with him than she would be with any +other man. + +Humphrey! I have no patience with you. You know you would rather dine +under the hedge than with Casaubon alone. You have nothing to say to +each other. + +What has that to do with Miss Brookes marrying him? She does not do +it for my amusement. + +He has got no good red blood in his body, said Sir James. + +No. Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was all +semicolons and parentheses, said Mrs. Cadwallader. + +Why does he not bring out his book, instead of marrying, said Sir +James, with a disgust which he held warranted by the sound feeling of +an English layman. + +Oh, he dreams footnotes, and they run away with all his brains. They +say, when he was a little boy, he made an abstract of Hop o my +Thumb, and he has been making abstracts ever since. Ugh! And that is +the man Humphrey goes on saying that a woman may be happy with. + +Well, he is what Miss Brooke likes, said the Rector. I dont profess +to understand every young ladys taste. + +But if she were your own daughter? said Sir James. + +That would be a different affair. She is _not_ my daughter, and I +dont feel called upon to interfere. Casaubon is as good as most of us. +He is a scholarly clergyman, and creditable to the cloth. Some Radical +fellow speechifying at Middlemarch said Casaubon was the learned +straw-chopping incumbent, and Freke was the brick-and-mortar incumbent, +and I was the angling incumbent. And upon my word, I dont see that one +is worse or better than the other. The Rector ended with his silent +laugh. He always saw the joke of any satire against himself. His +conscience was large and easy, like the rest of him: it did only what +it could do without any trouble. + +Clearly, there would be no interference with Miss Brookes marriage +through Mr. Cadwallader; and Sir James felt with some sadness that she +was to have perfect liberty of misjudgment. It was a sign of his good +disposition that he did not slacken at all in his intention of carrying +out Dorotheas design of the cottages. Doubtless this persistence was +the best course for his own dignity: but pride only helps us to be +generous; it never makes us so, any more than vanity makes us witty. +She was now enough aware of Sir Jamess position with regard to her, to +appreciate the rectitude of his perseverance in a landlords duty, to +which he had at first been urged by a lovers complaisance, and her +pleasure in it was great enough to count for something even in her +present happiness. Perhaps she gave to Sir James Chettams cottages all +the interest she could spare from Mr. Casaubon, or rather from the +symphony of hopeful dreams, admiring trust, and passionate self +devotion which that learned gentleman had set playing in her soul. +Hence it happened that in the good baronets succeeding visits, while +he was beginning to pay small attentions to Celia, he found himself +talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea. She was perfectly +unconstrained and without irritation towards him now, and he was +gradually discovering the delight there is in frank kindness and +companionship between a man and a woman who have no passion to hide or +confess. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +1_st Gent_. An ancient land in ancient oracles + Is called law-thirsty: all the struggle there + Was after order and a perfect rule. + Pray, where lie such lands now? . . . + +2_d Gent_. Why, where they lay of oldin human souls. + + +Mr. Casaubons behavior about settlements was highly satisfactory to +Mr. Brooke, and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, +shortening the weeks of courtship. The betrothed bride must see her +future home, and dictate any changes that she would like to have made +there. A woman dictates before marriage in order that she may have an +appetite for submission afterwards. And certainly, the mistakes that we +male and female mortals make when we have our own way might fairly +raise some wonder that we are so fond of it. + +On a gray but dry November morning Dorothea drove to Lowick in company +with her uncle and Celia. Mr. Casaubons home was the manor-house. +Close by, visible from some parts of the garden, was the little church, +with the old parsonage opposite. In the beginning of his career, Mr. +Casaubon had only held the living, but the death of his brother had put +him in possession of the manor also. It had a small park, with a fine +old oak here and there, and an avenue of limes towards the southwest +front, with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so that from +the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope +of greensward till the limes ended in a level of corn and pastures, +which often seemed to melt into a lake under the setting sun. This was +the happy side of the house, for the south and east looked rather +melancholy even under the brightest morning. The grounds here were more +confined, the flower-beds showed no very careful tendance, and large +clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had risen high, not ten yards +from the windows. The building, of greenish stone, was in the old +English style, not ugly, but small-windowed and melancholy-looking: the +sort of house that must have children, many flowers, open windows, and +little vistas of bright things, to make it seem a joyous home. In this +latter end of autumn, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling +slowly athwart the dark evergreens in a stillness without sunshine, the +house too had an air of autumnal decline, and Mr. Casaubon, when he +presented himself, had no bloom that could be thrown into relief by +that background. + +Oh dear! Celia said to herself, I am sure Freshitt Hall would have +been pleasanter than this. She thought of the white freestone, the +pillared portico, and the terrace full of flowers, Sir James smiling +above them like a prince issuing from his enchantment in a rose-bush, +with a handkerchief swiftly metamorphosed from the most delicately +odorous petalsSir James, who talked so agreeably, always about things +which had common-sense in them, and not about learning! Celia had those +light young feminine tastes which grave and weatherworn gentlemen +sometimes prefer in a wife; but happily Mr. Casaubons bias had been +different, for he would have had no chance with Celia. + +Dorothea, on the contrary, found the house and grounds all that she +could wish: the dark book-shelves in the long library, the carpets and +curtains with colors subdued by time, the curious old maps and +birds-eye views on the walls of the corridor, with here and there an +old vase below, had no oppression for her, and seemed more cheerful +than the casts and pictures at the Grange, which her uncle had long ago +brought home from his travelsthey being probably among the ideas he +had taken in at one time. To poor Dorothea these severe classical +nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully +inexplicable, staring into the midst of her Puritanic conceptions: she +had never been taught how she could bring them into any sort of +relevance with her life. But the owners of Lowick apparently had not +been travellers, and Mr. Casaubons studies of the past were not +carried on by means of such aids. + +Dorothea walked about the house with delightful emotion. Everything +seemed hallowed to her: this was to be the home of her wifehood, and +she looked up with eyes full of confidence to Mr. Casaubon when he drew +her attention specially to some actual arrangement and asked her if she +would like an alteration. All appeals to her taste she met gratefully, +but saw nothing to alter. His efforts at exact courtesy and formal +tenderness had no defect for her. She filled up all blanks with +unmanifested perfections, interpreting him as she interpreted the works +of Providence, and accounting for seeming discords by her own deafness +to the higher harmonies. And there are many blanks left in the weeks of +courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance. + +Now, my dear Dorothea, I wish you to favor me by pointing out which +room you would like to have as your boudoir, said Mr. Casaubon, +showing that his views of the womanly nature were sufficiently large to +include that requirement. + +It is very kind of you to think of that, said Dorothea, but I assure +you I would rather have all those matters decided for me. I shall be +much happier to take everything as it isjust as you have been used to +have it, or as you will yourself choose it to be. I have no motive for +wishing anything else. + +Oh, Dodo, said Celia, will you not have the bow-windowed room +up-stairs? + +Mr. Casaubon led the way thither. The bow-window looked down the avenue +of limes; the furniture was all of a faded blue, and there were +miniatures of ladies and gentlemen with powdered hair hanging in a +group. A piece of tapestry over a door also showed a blue-green world +with a pale stag in it. The chairs and tables were thin-legged and easy +to upset. It was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a +tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her embroidery. A light +bookcase contained duodecimo volumes of polite literature in calf, +completing the furniture. + +Yes, said Mr. Brooke, this would be a pretty room with some new +hangings, sofas, and that sort of thing. A little bare now. + +No, uncle, said Dorothea, eagerly. Pray do not speak of altering +anything. There are so many other things in the world that want +alteringI like to take these things as they are. And you like them as +they are, dont you? she added, looking at Mr. Casaubon. Perhaps this +was your mothers room when she was young. + +It was, he said, with his slow bend of the head. + +This is your mother, said Dorothea, who had turned to examine the +group of miniatures. It is like the tiny one you brought me; only, I +should think, a better portrait. And this one opposite, who is this? + +Her elder sister. They were, like you and your sister, the only two +children of their parents, who hang above them, you see. + +The sister is pretty, said Celia, implying that she thought less +favorably of Mr. Casaubons mother. It was a new opening to Celias +imagination, that he came of a family who had all been young in their +timethe ladies wearing necklaces. + +It is a peculiar face, said Dorothea, looking closely. Those deep +gray eyes rather near togetherand the delicate irregular nose with a +sort of ripple in itand all the powdered curls hanging backward. +Altogether it seems to me peculiar rather than pretty. There is not +even a family likeness between her and your mother. + +No. And they were not alike in their lot. + +You did not mention her to me, said Dorothea. + +My aunt made an unfortunate marriage. I never saw her. + +Dorothea wondered a little, but felt that it would be indelicate just +then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon did not proffer, and +she turned to the window to admire the view. The sun had lately pierced +the gray, and the avenue of limes cast shadows. + +Shall we not walk in the garden now? said Dorothea. + +And you would like to see the church, you know, said Mr. Brooke. It +is a droll little church. And the village. It all lies in a nut-shell. +By the way, it will suit you, Dorothea; for the cottages are like a row +of alms-houseslittle gardens, gilly-flowers, that sort of thing. + +Yes, please, said Dorothea, looking at Mr. Casaubon, I should like +to see all that. She had got nothing from him more graphic about the +Lowick cottages than that they were not bad. + +They were soon on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy +borders and clumps of trees, this being the nearest way to the church, +Mr. Casaubon said. At the little gate leading into the churchyard there +was a pause while Mr. Casaubon went to the parsonage close by to fetch +a key. Celia, who had been hanging a little in the rear, came up +presently, when she saw that Mr. Casaubon was gone away, and said in +her easy staccato, which always seemed to contradict the suspicion of +any malicious intent + +Do you know, Dorothea, I saw some one quite young coming up one of the +walks. + +Is that astonishing, Celia? + +There may be a young gardener, you knowwhy not? said Mr. Brooke. I +told Casaubon he should change his gardener. + +No, not a gardener, said Celia; a gentleman with a sketch-book. He +had light-brown curls. I only saw his back. But he was quite young. + +The curates son, perhaps, said Mr. Brooke. Ah, there is Casaubon +again, and Tucker with him. He is going to introduce Tucker. You dont +know Tucker yet. + +Mr. Tucker was the middle-aged curate, one of the inferior clergy, +who are usually not wanting in sons. But after the introduction, the +conversation did not lead to any question about his family, and the +startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but +Celia. She inwardly declined to believe that the light-brown curls and +slim figure could have any relationship to Mr. Tucker, who was just as +old and musty-looking as she would have expected Mr. Casaubons curate +to be; doubtless an excellent man who would go to heaven (for Celia +wished not to be unprincipled), but the corners of his mouth were so +unpleasant. Celia thought with some dismalness of the time she should +have to spend as bridesmaid at Lowick, while the curate had probably no +pretty little children whom she could like, irrespective of principle. + +Mr. Tucker was invaluable in their walk; and perhaps Mr. Casaubon had +not been without foresight on this head, the curate being able to +answer all Dorotheas questions about the villagers and the other +parishioners. Everybody, he assured her, was well off in Lowick: not a +cottager in those double cottages at a low rent but kept a pig, and the +strips of garden at the back were well tended. The small boys wore +excellent corduroy, the girls went out as tidy servants, or did a +little straw-plaiting at home: no looms here, no Dissent; and though +the public disposition was rather towards laying by money than towards +spirituality, there was not much vice. The speckled fowls were so +numerous that Mr. Brooke observed, Your farmers leave some barley for +the women to glean, I see. The poor folks here might have a fowl in +their pot, as the good French king used to wish for all his people. The +French eat a good many fowlsskinny fowls, you know. + +I think it was a very cheap wish of his, said Dorothea, indignantly. +Are kings such monsters that a wish like that must be reckoned a royal +virtue? + +And if he wished them a skinny fowl, said Celia, that would not be +nice. But perhaps he wished them to have fat fowls. + +Yes, but the word has dropped out of the text, or perhaps was +subauditum; that is, present in the kings mind, but not uttered, said +Mr. Casaubon, smiling and bending his head towards Celia, who +immediately dropped backward a little, because she could not bear Mr. +Casaubon to blink at her. + +Dorothea sank into silence on the way back to the house. She felt some +disappointment, of which she was yet ashamed, that there was nothing +for her to do in Lowick; and in the next few minutes her mind had +glanced over the possibility, which she would have preferred, of +finding that her home would be in a parish which had a larger share of +the worlds misery, so that she might have had more active duties in +it. Then, recurring to the future actually before her, she made a +picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Casaubons aims in which she +would await new duties. Many such might reveal themselves to the higher +knowledge gained by her in that companionship. + +Mr. Tucker soon left them, having some clerical work which would not +allow him to lunch at the Hall; and as they were re-entering the garden +through the little gate, Mr. Casaubon said + +You seem a little sad, Dorothea. I trust you are pleased with what you +have seen. + +I am feeling something which is perhaps foolish and wrong, answered +Dorothea, with her usual opennessalmost wishing that the people +wanted more to be done for them here. I have known so few ways of +making my life good for anything. Of course, my notions of usefulness +must be narrow. I must learn new ways of helping people. + +Doubtless, said Mr. Casaubon. Each position has its corresponding +duties. Yours, I trust, as the mistress of Lowick, will not leave any +yearning unfulfilled. + +Indeed, I believe that, said Dorothea, earnestly. Do not suppose +that I am sad. + +That is well. But, if you are not tired, we will take another way to +the house than that by which we came. + +Dorothea was not at all tired, and a little circuit was made towards a +fine yew-tree, the chief hereditary glory of the grounds on this side +of the house. As they approached it, a figure, conspicuous on a dark +background of evergreens, was seated on a bench, sketching the old +tree. Mr. Brooke, who was walking in front with Celia, turned his head, +and said + +Who is that youngster, Casaubon? + +They had come very near when Mr. Casaubon answered + +That is a young relative of mine, a second cousin: the grandson, in +fact, he added, looking at Dorothea, of the lady whose portrait you +have been noticing, my aunt Julia. + +The young man had laid down his sketch-book and risen. His bushy +light-brown curls, as well as his youthfulness, identified him at once +with Celias apparition. + +Dorothea, let me introduce to you my cousin, Mr. Ladislaw. Will, this +is Miss Brooke. + +The cousin was so close now, that, when he lifted his hat, Dorothea +could see a pair of gray eyes rather near together, a delicate +irregular nose with a little ripple in it, and hair falling backward; +but there was a mouth and chin of a more prominent, threatening aspect +than belonged to the type of the grandmothers miniature. Young +Ladislaw did not feel it necessary to smile, as if he were charmed with +this introduction to his future second cousin and her relatives; but +wore rather a pouting air of discontent. + +You are an artist, I see, said Mr. Brooke, taking up the sketch-book +and turning it over in his unceremonious fashion. + +No, I only sketch a little. There is nothing fit to be seen there, +said young Ladislaw, coloring, perhaps with temper rather than modesty. + +Oh, come, this is a nice bit, now. I did a little in this way myself +at one time, you know. Look here, now; this is what I call a nice +thing, done with what we used to call _brio_. Mr. Brooke held out +towards the two girls a large colored sketch of stony ground and trees, +with a pool. + +I am no judge of these things, said Dorothea, not coldly, but with an +eager deprecation of the appeal to her. You know, uncle, I never see +the beauty of those pictures which you say are so much praised. They +are a language I do not understand. I suppose there is some relation +between pictures and nature which I am too ignorant to feeljust as you +see what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to me. +Dorothea looked up at Mr. Casaubon, who bowed his head towards her, +while Mr. Brooke said, smiling nonchalantly + +Bless me, now, how different people are! But you had a bad style of +teaching, you knowelse this is just the thing for girlssketching, +fine art and so on. But you took to drawing plans; you dont understand +_morbidezza_, and that kind of thing. You will come to my house, I +hope, and I will show you what I did in this way, he continued, +turning to young Ladislaw, who had to be recalled from his +preoccupation in observing Dorothea. Ladislaw had made up his mind that +she must be an unpleasant girl, since she was going to marry Casaubon, +and what she said of her stupidity about pictures would have confirmed +that opinion even if he had believed her. As it was, he took her words +for a covert judgment, and was certain that she thought his sketch +detestable. There was too much cleverness in her apology: she was +laughing both at her uncle and himself. But what a voice! It was like +the voice of a soul that had once lived in an Aeolian harp. This must +be one of Natures inconsistencies. There could be no sort of passion +in a girl who would marry Casaubon. But he turned from her, and bowed +his thanks for Mr. Brookes invitation. + +We will turn over my Italian engravings together, continued that +good-natured man. I have no end of those things, that I have laid by +for years. One gets rusty in this part of the country, you know. Not +you, Casaubon; you stick to your studies; but my best ideas get +undermostout of use, you know. You clever young men must guard against +indolence. I was too indolent, you know: else I might have been +anywhere at one time. + +That is a seasonable admonition, said Mr. Casaubon; but now we will +pass on to the house, lest the young ladies should be tired of +standing. + +When their backs were turned, young Ladislaw sat down to go on with his +sketching, and as he did so his face broke into an expression of +amusement which increased as he went on drawing, till at last he threw +back his head and laughed aloud. Partly it was the reception of his own +artistic production that tickled him; partly the notion of his grave +cousin as the lover of that girl; and partly Mr. Brookes definition of +the place he might have held but for the impediment of indolence. Mr. +Will Ladislaws sense of the ludicrous lit up his features very +agreeably: it was the pure enjoyment of comicality, and had no mixture +of sneering and self-exaltation. + +What is your nephew going to do with himself, Casaubon? said Mr. +Brooke, as they went on. + +My cousin, you meannot my nephew. + +Yes, yes, cousin. But in the way of a career, you know. + +The answer to that question is painfully doubtful. On leaving Rugby he +declined to go to an English university, where I would gladly have +placed him, and chose what I must consider the anomalous course of +studying at Heidelberg. And now he wants to go abroad again, without +any special object, save the vague purpose of what he calls culture, +preparation for he knows not what. He declines to choose a profession. + +He has no means but what you furnish, I suppose. + +I have always given him and his friends reason to understand that I +would furnish in moderation what was necessary for providing him with a +scholarly education, and launching him respectably. I am therefore +bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Mr. Casaubon, putting +his conduct in the light of mere rectitude: a trait of delicacy which +Dorothea noticed with admiration. + +He has a thirst for travelling; perhaps he may turn out a Bruce or a +Mungo Park, said Mr. Brooke. I had a notion of that myself at one +time. + +No, he has no bent towards exploration, or the enlargement of our +geognosis: that would be a special purpose which I could recognize with +some approbation, though without felicitating him on a career which so +often ends in premature and violent death. But so far is he from having +any desire for a more accurate knowledge of the earths surface, that +he said he should prefer not to know the sources of the Nile, and that +there should be some unknown regions preserved as hunting grounds for +the poetic imagination. + +Well, there is something in that, you know, said Mr. Brooke, who had +certainly an impartial mind. + +It is, I fear, nothing more than a part of his general inaccuracy and +indisposition to thoroughness of all kinds, which would be a bad augury +for him in any profession, civil or sacred, even were he so far +submissive to ordinary rule as to choose one. + +Perhaps he has conscientious scruples founded on his own unfitness, +said Dorothea, who was interesting herself in finding a favorable +explanation. Because the law and medicine should be very serious +professions to undertake, should they not? Peoples lives and fortunes +depend on them. + +Doubtless; but I fear that my young relative Will Ladislaw is chiefly +determined in his aversion to these callings by a dislike to steady +application, and to that kind of acquirement which is needful +instrumentally, but is not charming or immediately inviting to +self-indulgent taste. I have insisted to him on what Aristotle has +stated with admirable brevity, that for the achievement of any work +regarded as an end there must be a prior exercise of many energies or +acquired facilities of a secondary order, demanding patience. I have +pointed to my own manuscript volumes, which represent the toil of years +preparatory to a work not yet accomplished. But in vain. To careful +reasoning of this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and every +form of prescribed work harness. + +Celia laughed. She was surprised to find that Mr. Casaubon could say +something quite amusing. + +Well, you know, he may turn out a Byron, a Chatterton, a +Churchillthat sort of thingtheres no telling, said Mr. Brooke. +Shall you let him go to Italy, or wherever else he wants to go? + +Yes; I have agreed to furnish him with moderate supplies for a year or +so; he asks no more. I shall let him be tried by the test of freedom. + +That is very kind of you, said Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon +with delight. It is noble. After all, people may really have in them +some vocation which is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? +They may seem idle and weak because they are growing. We should be very +patient with each other, I think. + +I suppose it is being engaged to be married that has made you think +patience good, said Celia, as soon as she and Dorothea were alone +together, taking off their wrappings. + +You mean that I am very impatient, Celia. + +Yes; when people dont do and say just what you like. Celia had +become less afraid of saying things to Dorothea since this +engagement: cleverness seemed to her more pitiable than ever. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +He had catched a great cold, had he had no other clothes to wear than +the skin of a bear not yet killed.FULLER. + + +Young Ladislaw did not pay that visit to which Mr. Brooke had invited +him, and only six days afterwards Mr. Casaubon mentioned that his young +relative had started for the Continent, seeming by this cold vagueness +to waive inquiry. Indeed, Will had declined to fix on any more precise +destination than the entire area of Europe. Genius, he held, is +necessarily intolerant of fetters: on the one hand it must have the +utmost play for its spontaneity; on the other, it may confidently await +those messages from the universe which summon it to its peculiar work, +only placing itself in an attitude of receptivity towards all sublime +chances. The attitudes of receptivity are various, and Will had +sincerely tried many of them. He was not excessively fond of wine, but +he had several times taken too much, simply as an experiment in that +form of ecstasy; he had fasted till he was faint, and then supped on +lobster; he had made himself ill with doses of opium. Nothing greatly +original had resulted from these measures; and the effects of the opium +had convinced him that there was an entire dissimilarity between his +constitution and De Quinceys. The superadded circumstance which would +evolve the genius had not yet come; the universe had not yet beckoned. +Even Caesars fortune at one time was but a grand presentiment. We know +what a masquerade all development is, and what effective shapes may be +disguised in helpless embryos. In fact, the world is full of hopeful +analogies and handsome dubious eggs called possibilities. Will saw +clearly enough the pitiable instances of long incubation producing no +chick, and but for gratitude would have laughed at Casaubon, whose +plodding application, rows of note-books, and small taper of learned +theory exploring the tossed ruins of the world, seemed to enforce a +moral entirely encouraging to Wills generous reliance on the +intentions of the universe with regard to himself. He held that +reliance to be a mark of genius; and certainly it is no mark to the +contrary; genius consisting neither in self-conceit nor in humility, +but in a power to make or do, not anything in general, but something in +particular. Let him start for the Continent, then, without our +pronouncing on his future. Among all forms of mistake, prophecy is the +most gratuitous. + +But at present this caution against a too hasty judgment interests me +more in relation to Mr. Casaubon than to his young cousin. If to +Dorothea Mr. Casaubon had been the mere occasion which had set alight +the fine inflammable material of her youthful illusions, does it follow +that he was fairly represented in the minds of those less impassioned +personages who have hitherto delivered their judgments concerning him? +I protest against any absolute conclusion, any prejudice derived from +Mrs. Cadwalladers contempt for a neighboring clergymans alleged +greatness of soul, or Sir James Chettams poor opinion of his rivals +legs,from Mr. Brookes failure to elicit a companions ideas, or from +Celias criticism of a middle-aged scholars personal appearance. I am +not sure that the greatest man of his age, if ever that solitary +superlative existed, could escape these unfavorable reflections of +himself in various small mirrors; and even Milton, looking for his +portrait in a spoon, must submit to have the facial angle of a bumpkin. +Moreover, if Mr. Casaubon, speaking for himself, has rather a chilling +rhetoric, it is not therefore certain that there is no good work or +fine feeling in him. Did not an immortal physicist and interpreter of +hieroglyphs write detestable verses? Has the theory of the solar system +been advanced by graceful manners and conversational tact? Suppose we +turn from outside estimates of a man, to wonder, with keener interest, +what is the report of his own consciousness about his doings or +capacity: with what hindrances he is carrying on his daily labors; what +fading of hopes, or what deeper fixity of self-delusion the years are +marking off within him; and with what spirit he wrestles against +universal pressure, which will one day be too heavy for him, and bring +his heart to its final pause. Doubtless his lot is important in his own +eyes; and the chief reason that we think he asks too large a place in +our consideration must be our want of room for him, since we refer him +to the Divine regard with perfect confidence; nay, it is even held +sublime for our neighbor to expect the utmost there, however little he +may have got from us. Mr. Casaubon, too, was the centre of his own +world; if he was liable to think that others were providentially made +for him, and especially to consider them in the light of their fitness +for the author of a Key to all Mythologies, this trait is not quite +alien to us, and, like the other mendicant hopes of mortals, claims +some of our pity. + +Certainly this affair of his marriage with Miss Brooke touched him more +nearly than it did any one of the persons who have hitherto shown their +disapproval of it, and in the present stage of things I feel more +tenderly towards his experience of success than towards the +disappointment of the amiable Sir James. For in truth, as the day fixed +for his marriage came nearer, Mr. Casaubon did not find his spirits +rising; nor did the contemplation of that matrimonial garden scene, +where, as all experience showed, the path was to be bordered with +flowers, prove persistently more enchanting to him than the accustomed +vaults where he walked taper in hand. He did not confess to himself, +still less could he have breathed to another, his surprise that though +he had won a lovely and noble-hearted girl he had not won +delight,which he had also regarded as an object to be found by search. +It is true that he knew all the classical passages implying the +contrary; but knowing classical passages, we find, is a mode of motion, +which explains why they leave so little extra force for their personal +application. + +Poor Mr. Casaubon had imagined that his long studious bachelorhood had +stored up for him a compound interest of enjoyment, and that large +drafts on his affections would not fail to be honored; for we all of +us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act +fatally on the strength of them. And now he was in danger of being +saddened by the very conviction that his circumstances were unusually +happy: there was nothing external by which he could account for a +certain blankness of sensibility which came over him just when his +expectant gladness should have been most lively, just when he exchanged +the accustomed dulness of his Lowick library for his visits to the +Grange. Here was a weary experience in which he was as utterly +condemned to loneliness as in the despair which sometimes threatened +him while toiling in the morass of authorship without seeming nearer to +the goal. And his was that worst loneliness which would shrink from +sympathy. He could not but wish that Dorothea should think him not less +happy than the world would expect her successful suitor to be; and in +relation to his authorship he leaned on her young trust and veneration, +he liked to draw forth her fresh interest in listening, as a means of +encouragement to himself: in talking to her he presented all his +performance and intention with the reflected confidence of the +pedagogue, and rid himself for the time of that chilling ideal audience +which crowded his laborious uncreative hours with the vaporous pressure +of Tartarean shades. + +For to Dorothea, after that toy-box history of the world adapted to +young ladies which had made the chief part of her education, Mr. +Casaubons talk about his great book was full of new vistas; and this +sense of revelation, this surprise of a nearer introduction to Stoics +and Alexandrians, as people who had ideas not totally unlike her own, +kept in abeyance for the time her usual eagerness for a binding theory +which could bring her own life and doctrine into strict connection with +that amazing past, and give the remotest sources of knowledge some +bearing on her actions. That more complete teaching would comeMr. +Casaubon would tell her all that: she was looking forward to higher +initiation in ideas, as she was looking forward to marriage, and +blending her dim conceptions of both. It would be a great mistake to +suppose that Dorothea would have cared about any share in Mr. +Casaubons learning as mere accomplishment; for though opinion in the +neighborhood of Freshitt and Tipton had pronounced her clever, that +epithet would not have described her to circles in whose more precise +vocabulary cleverness implies mere aptitude for knowing and doing, +apart from character. All her eagerness for acquirement lay within that +full current of sympathetic motive in which her ideas and impulses were +habitually swept along. She did not want to deck herself with +knowledgeto wear it loose from the nerves and blood that fed her +action; and if she had written a book she must have done it as Saint +Theresa did, under the command of an authority that constrained her +conscience. But something she yearned for by which her life might be +filled with action at once rational and ardent; and since the time was +gone by for guiding visions and spiritual directors, since prayer +heightened yearning but not instruction, what lamp was there but +knowledge? Surely learned men kept the only oil; and who more learned +than Mr. Casaubon? + +Thus in these brief weeks Dorotheas joyous grateful expectation was +unbroken, and however her lover might occasionally be conscious of +flatness, he could never refer it to any slackening of her affectionate +interest. + +The season was mild enough to encourage the project of extending the +wedding journey as far as Rome, and Mr. Casaubon was anxious for this +because he wished to inspect some manuscripts in the Vatican. + +I still regret that your sister is not to accompany us, he said one +morning, some time after it had been ascertained that Celia objected to +go, and that Dorothea did not wish for her companionship. You will +have many lonely hours, Dorothea, for I shall be constrained to make +the utmost use of my time during our stay in Rome, and I should feel +more at liberty if you had a companion. + +The words I should feel more at liberty grated on Dorothea. For the +first time in speaking to Mr. Casaubon she colored from annoyance. + +You must have misunderstood me very much, she said, if you think I +should not enter into the value of your timeif you think that I should +not willingly give up whatever interfered with your using it to the +best purpose. + +That is very amiable in you, my dear Dorothea, said Mr. Casaubon, not +in the least noticing that she was hurt; but if you had a lady as your +companion, I could put you both under the care of a cicerone, and we +could thus achieve two purposes in the same space of time. + +I beg you will not refer to this again, said Dorothea, rather +haughtily. But immediately she feared that she was wrong, and turning +towards him she laid her hand on his, adding in a different tone, Pray +do not be anxious about me. I shall have so much to think of when I am +alone. And Tantripp will be a sufficient companion, just to take care +of me. I could not bear to have Celia: she would be miserable. + +It was time to dress. There was to be a dinner-party that day, the last +of the parties which were held at the Grange as proper preliminaries to +the wedding, and Dorothea was glad of a reason for moving away at once +on the sound of the bell, as if she needed more than her usual amount +of preparation. She was ashamed of being irritated from some cause she +could not define even to herself; for though she had no intention to be +untruthful, her reply had not touched the real hurt within her. Mr. +Casaubons words had been quite reasonable, yet they had brought a +vague instantaneous sense of aloofness on his part. + +Surely I am in a strangely selfish weak state of mind, she said to +herself. How can I have a husband who is so much above me without +knowing that he needs me less than I need him? + +Having convinced herself that Mr. Casaubon was altogether right, she +recovered her equanimity, and was an agreeable image of serene dignity +when she came into the drawing-room in her silver-gray dressthe simple +lines of her dark-brown hair parted over her brow and coiled massively +behind, in keeping with the entire absence from her manner and +expression of all search after mere effect. Sometimes when Dorothea was +in company, there seemed to be as complete an air of repose about her +as if she had been a picture of Santa Barbara looking out from her +tower into the clear air; but these intervals of quietude made the +energy of her speech and emotion the more remarked when some outward +appeal had touched her. + +She was naturally the subject of many observations this evening, for +the dinner-party was large and rather more miscellaneous as to the male +portion than any which had been held at the Grange since Mr. Brookes +nieces had resided with him, so that the talking was done in duos and +trios more or less inharmonious. There was the newly elected mayor of +Middlemarch, who happened to be a manufacturer; the philanthropic +banker his brother-in-law, who predominated so much in the town that +some called him a Methodist, others a hypocrite, according to the +resources of their vocabulary; and there were various professional men. +In fact, Mrs. Cadwallader said that Brooke was beginning to treat the +Middlemarchers, and that she preferred the farmers at the tithe-dinner, +who drank her health unpretentiously, and were not ashamed of their +grandfathers furniture. For in that part of the country, before reform +had done its notable part in developing the political consciousness, +there was a clearer distinction of ranks and a dimmer distinction of +parties; so that Mr. Brookes miscellaneous invitations seemed to +belong to that general laxity which came from his inordinate travel and +habit of taking too much in the form of ideas. + +Already, as Miss Brooke passed out of the dining-room, opportunity was +found for some interjectional asides. + +A fine woman, Miss Brooke! an uncommonly fine woman, by God! said Mr. +Standish, the old lawyer, who had been so long concerned with the +landed gentry that he had become landed himself, and used that oath in +a deep-mouthed manner as a sort of armorial bearings, stamping the +speech of a man who held a good position. + +Mr. Bulstrode, the banker, seemed to be addressed, but that gentleman +disliked coarseness and profanity, and merely bowed. The remark was +taken up by Mr. Chichely, a middle-aged bachelor and coursing +celebrity, who had a complexion something like an Easter egg, a few +hairs carefully arranged, and a carriage implying the consciousness of +a distinguished appearance. + +Yes, but not my style of woman: I like a woman who lays herself out a +little more to please us. There should be a little filigree about a +womansomething of the coquette. A man likes a sort of challenge. The +more of a dead set she makes at you the better. + +Theres some truth in that, said Mr. Standish, disposed to be genial. +And, by God, its usually the way with them. I suppose it answers some +wise ends: Providence made them so, eh, Bulstrode? + +I should be disposed to refer coquetry to another source, said Mr. +Bulstrode. I should rather refer it to the devil. + +Ay, to be sure, there should be a little devil in a woman, said Mr. +Chichely, whose study of the fair sex seemed to have been detrimental +to his theology. And I like them blond, with a certain gait, and a +swan neck. Between ourselves, the mayors daughter is more to my taste +than Miss Brooke or Miss Celia either. If I were a marrying man I +should choose Miss Vincy before either of them. + +Well, make up, make up, said Mr. Standish, jocosely; you see the +middle-aged fellows carry the day. + +Mr. Chichely shook his head with much meaning: he was not going to +incur the certainty of being accepted by the woman he would choose. + +The Miss Vincy who had the honor of being Mr. Chichelys ideal was of +course not present; for Mr. Brooke, always objecting to go too far, +would not have chosen that his nieces should meet the daughter of a +Middlemarch manufacturer, unless it were on a public occasion. The +feminine part of the company included none whom Lady Chettam or Mrs. +Cadwallader could object to; for Mrs. Renfrew, the colonels widow, was +not only unexceptionable in point of breeding, but also interesting on +the ground of her complaint, which puzzled the doctors, and seemed +clearly a case wherein the fulness of professional knowledge might need +the supplement of quackery. Lady Chettam, who attributed her own +remarkable health to home-made bitters united with constant medical +attendance, entered with much exercise of the imagination into Mrs. +Renfrews account of symptoms, and into the amazing futility in her +case of all strengthening medicines. + +Where can all the strength of those medicines go, my dear? said the +mild but stately dowager, turning to Mrs. Cadwallader reflectively, +when Mrs. Renfrews attention was called away. + +It strengthens the disease, said the Rectors wife, much too +well-born not to be an amateur in medicine. Everything depends on the +constitution: some people make fat, some blood, and some bilethats my +view of the matter; and whatever they take is a sort of grist to the +mill. + +Then she ought to take medicines that would reducereduce the disease, +you know, if you are right, my dear. And I think what you say is +reasonable. + +Certainly it is reasonable. You have two sorts of potatoes, fed on the +same soil. One of them grows more and more watery + +Ah! like this poor Mrs. Renfrewthat is what I think. Dropsy! There is +no swelling yetit is inward. I should say she ought to take drying +medicines, shouldnt you?or a dry hot-air bath. Many things might be +tried, of a drying nature. + +Let her try a certain persons pamphlets, said Mrs. Cadwallader in an +undertone, seeing the gentlemen enter. He does not want drying. + +Who, my dear? said Lady Chettam, a charming woman, not so quick as to +nullify the pleasure of explanation. + +The bridegroomCasaubon. He has certainly been drying up faster since +the engagement: the flame of passion, I suppose. + +I should think he is far from having a good constitution, said Lady +Chettam, with a still deeper undertone. And then his studiesso very +dry, as you say. + +Really, by the side of Sir James, he looks like a deaths head skinned +over for the occasion. Mark my words: in a year from this time that +girl will hate him. She looks up to him as an oracle now, and by-and-by +she will be at the other extreme. All flightiness! + +How very shocking! I fear she is headstrong. But tell meyou know all +about himis there anything very bad? What is the truth? + +The truth? he is as bad as the wrong physicnasty to take, and sure to +disagree. + +There could not be anything worse than that, said Lady Chettam, with +so vivid a conception of the physic that she seemed to have learned +something exact about Mr. Casaubons disadvantages. However, James +will hear nothing against Miss Brooke. He says she is the mirror of +women still. + +That is a generous make-believe of his. Depend upon it, he likes +little Celia better, and she appreciates him. I hope you like my little +Celia? + +Certainly; she is fonder of geraniums, and seems more docile, though +not so fine a figure. But we were talking of physic. Tell me about this +new young surgeon, Mr. Lydgate. I am told he is wonderfully clever: he +certainly looks ita fine brow indeed. + +He is a gentleman. I heard him talking to Humphrey. He talks well. + +Yes. Mr. Brooke says he is one of the Lydgates of Northumberland, +really well connected. One does not expect it in a practitioner of that +kind. For my own part, I like a medical man more on a footing with the +servants; they are often all the cleverer. I assure you I found poor +Hickss judgment unfailing; I never knew him wrong. He was coarse and +butcher-like, but he knew my constitution. It was a loss to me his +going off so suddenly. Dear me, what a very animated conversation Miss +Brooke seems to be having with this Mr. Lydgate! + +She is talking cottages and hospitals with him, said Mrs. +Cadwallader, whose ears and power of interpretation were quick. I +believe he is a sort of philanthropist, so Brooke is sure to take him +up. + +James, said Lady Chettam when her son came near, bring Mr. Lydgate +and introduce him to me. I want to test him. + +The affable dowager declared herself delighted with this opportunity of +making Mr. Lydgates acquaintance, having heard of his success in +treating fever on a new plan. + +Mr. Lydgate had the medical accomplishment of looking perfectly grave +whatever nonsense was talked to him, and his dark steady eyes gave him +impressiveness as a listener. He was as little as possible like the +lamented Hicks, especially in a certain careless refinement about his +toilet and utterance. Yet Lady Chettam gathered much confidence in him. +He confirmed her view of her own constitution as being peculiar, by +admitting that all constitutions might be called peculiar, and he did +not deny that hers might be more peculiar than others. He did not +approve of a too lowering system, including reckless cupping, nor, on +the other hand, of incessant port wine and bark. He said I think so +with an air of so much deference accompanying the insight of agreement, +that she formed the most cordial opinion of his talents. + +I am quite pleased with your protege, she said to Mr. Brooke before +going away. + +My protege?dear me!who is that? said Mr. Brooke. + +This young Lydgate, the new doctor. He seems to me to understand his +profession admirably. + +Oh, Lydgate! he is not my protege, you know; only I knew an uncle of +his who sent me a letter about him. However, I think he is likely to be +first-ratehas studied in Paris, knew Broussais; has ideas, you +knowwants to raise the profession. + +Lydgate has lots of ideas, quite new, about ventilation and diet, that +sort of thing, resumed Mr. Brooke, after he had handed out Lady +Chettam, and had returned to be civil to a group of Middlemarchers. + +Hang it, do you think that is quite sound?upsetting the old +treatment, which has made Englishmen what they are? said Mr. Standish. + +Medical knowledge is at a low ebb among us, said Mr. Bulstrode, who +spoke in a subdued tone, and had rather a sickly air. I, for my part, +hail the advent of Mr. Lydgate. I hope to find good reason for +confiding the new hospital to his management. + +That is all very fine, replied Mr. Standish, who was not fond of Mr. +Bulstrode; if you like him to try experiments on your hospital +patients, and kill a few people for charity I have no objection. But I +am not going to hand money out of my purse to have experiments tried on +me. I like treatment that has been tested a little. + +Well, you know, Standish, every dose you take is an experiment-an +experiment, you know, said Mr. Brooke, nodding towards the lawyer. + +Oh, if you talk in that sense! said Mr. Standish, with as much +disgust at such non-legal quibbling as a man can well betray towards a +valuable client. + +I should be glad of any treatment that would cure me without reducing +me to a skeleton, like poor Grainger, said Mr. Vincy, the mayor, a +florid man, who would have served for a study of flesh in striking +contrast with the Franciscan tints of Mr. Bulstrode. Its an +uncommonly dangerous thing to be left without any padding against the +shafts of disease, as somebody said,and I think it a very good +expression myself. + +Mr. Lydgate, of course, was out of hearing. He had quitted the party +early, and would have thought it altogether tedious but for the novelty +of certain introductions, especially the introduction to Miss Brooke, +whose youthful bloom, with her approaching marriage to that faded +scholar, and her interest in matters socially useful, gave her the +piquancy of an unusual combination. + +She is a good creaturethat fine girlbut a little too earnest, he +thought. It is troublesome to talk to such women. They are always +wanting reasons, yet they are too ignorant to understand the merits of +any question, and usually fall back on their moral sense to settle +things after their own taste. + +Evidently Miss Brooke was not Mr. Lydgates style of woman any more +than Mr. Chichelys. Considered, indeed, in relation to the latter, +whose mind was matured, she was altogether a mistake, and calculated to +shock his trust in final causes, including the adaptation of fine young +women to purplefaced bachelors. But Lydgate was less ripe, and might +possibly have experience before him which would modify his opinion as +to the most excellent things in woman. + +Miss Brooke, however, was not again seen by either of these gentlemen +under her maiden name. Not long after that dinner-party she had become +Mrs. Casaubon, and was on her way to Rome. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +But deeds and language such as men do use, +And persons such as comedy would choose, +When she would show an image of the times, +And sport with human follies, not with crimes. +BEN JONSON. + + +Lydgate, in fact, was already conscious of being fascinated by a woman +strikingly different from Miss Brooke: he did not in the least suppose +that he had lost his balance and fallen in love, but he had said of +that particular woman, She is grace itself; she is perfectly lovely +and accomplished. That is what a woman ought to be: she ought to +produce the effect of exquisite music. Plain women he regarded as he +did the other severe facts of life, to be faced with philosophy and +investigated by science. But Rosamond Vincy seemed to have the true +melodic charm; and when a man has seen the woman whom he would have +chosen if he had intended to marry speedily, his remaining a bachelor +will usually depend on her resolution rather than on his. Lydgate +believed that he should not marry for several years: not marry until he +had trodden out a good clear path for himself away from the broad road +which was quite ready made. He had seen Miss Vincy above his horizon +almost as long as it had taken Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and +married: but this learned gentleman was possessed of a fortune; he had +assembled his voluminous notes, and had made that sort of reputation +which precedes performance,often the larger part of a mans fame. He +took a wife, as we have seen, to adorn the remaining quadrant of his +course, and be a little moon that would cause hardly a calculable +perturbation. But Lydgate was young, poor, ambitious. He had his +half-century before him instead of behind him, and he had come to +Middlemarch bent on doing many things that were not directly fitted to +make his fortune or even secure him a good income. To a man under such +circumstances, taking a wife is something more than a question of +adornment, however highly he may rate this; and Lydgate was disposed to +give it the first place among wifely functions. To his taste, guided by +a single conversation, here was the point on which Miss Brooke would be +found wanting, notwithstanding her undeniable beauty. She did not look +at things from the proper feminine angle. The society of such women was +about as relaxing as going from your work to teach the second form, +instead of reclining in a paradise with sweet laughs for bird-notes, +and blue eyes for a heaven. + +Certainly nothing at present could seem much less important to Lydgate +than the turn of Miss Brookes mind, or to Miss Brooke than the +qualities of the woman who had attracted this young surgeon. But any +one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow +preparation of effects from one life on another, which tells like a +calculated irony on the indifference or the frozen stare with which we +look at our unintroduced neighbor. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our +dramatis personae folded in her hand. + +Old provincial society had its share of this subtle movement: had not +only its striking downfalls, its brilliant young professional dandies +who ended by living up an entry with a drab and six children for their +establishment, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are +constantly shifting the boundaries of social intercourse, and begetting +new consciousness of interdependence. Some slipped a little downward, +some got higher footing: people denied aspirates, gained wealth, and +fastidious gentlemen stood for boroughs; some were caught in political +currents, some in ecclesiastical, and perhaps found themselves +surprisingly grouped in consequence; while a few personages or families +that stood with rocky firmness amid all this fluctuation, were slowly +presenting new aspects in spite of solidity, and altering with the +double change of self and beholder. Municipal town and rural parish +gradually made fresh threads of connectiongradually, as the old +stocking gave way to the savings-bank, and the worship of the solar +guinea became extinct; while squires and baronets, and even lords who +had once lived blamelessly afar from the civic mind, gathered the +faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Settlers, too, came from distant +counties, some with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an +offensive advantage in cunning. In fact, much the same sort of movement +and mixture went on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who +also, in telling what had been, thought it well to take a womans lot +for his starting-point; though Io, as a maiden apparently beguiled by +attractive merchandise, was the reverse of Miss Brooke, and in this +respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy, who had +excellent taste in costume, with that nymph-like figure and pure +blondness which give the largest range to choice in the flow and color +of drapery. But these things made only part of her charm. She was +admitted to be the flower of Mrs. Lemons school, the chief school in +the county, where the teaching included all that was demanded in the +accomplished femaleeven to extras, such as the getting in and out of a +carriage. Mrs. Lemon herself had always held up Miss Vincy as an +example: no pupil, she said, exceeded that young lady for mental +acquisition and propriety of speech, while her musical execution was +quite exceptional. We cannot help the way in which people speak of us, +and probably if Mrs. Lemon had undertaken to describe Juliet or Imogen, +these heroines would not have seemed poetical. The first vision of +Rosamond would have been enough with most judges to dispel any +prejudice excited by Mrs. Lemons praise. + +Lydgate could not be long in Middlemarch without having that agreeable +vision, or even without making the acquaintance of the Vincy family; +for though Mr. Peacock, whose practice he had paid something to enter +on, had not been their doctor (Mrs. Vincy not liking the lowering +system adopted by him), he had many patients among their connections +and acquaintances. For who of any consequence in Middlemarch was not +connected or at least acquainted with the Vincys? They were old +manufacturers, and had kept a good house for three generations, in +which there had naturally been much intermarrying with neighbors more +or less decidedly genteel. Mr. Vincys sister had made a wealthy match +in accepting Mr. Bulstrode, who, however, as a man not born in the +town, and altogether of dimly known origin, was considered to have done +well in uniting himself with a real Middlemarch family; on the other +hand, Mr. Vincy had descended a little, having taken an innkeepers +daughter. But on this side too there was a cheering sense of money; for +Mrs. Vincys sister had been second wife to rich old Mr. Featherstone, +and had died childless years ago, so that her nephews and nieces might +be supposed to touch the affections of the widower. And it happened +that Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Featherstone, two of Peacocks most +important patients, had, from different causes, given an especially +good reception to his successor, who had raised some partisanship as +well as discussion. Mr. Wrench, medical attendant to the Vincy family, +very early had grounds for thinking lightly of Lydgates professional +discretion, and there was no report about him which was not retailed at +the Vincys, where visitors were frequent. Mr. Vincy was more inclined +to general good-fellowship than to taking sides, but there was no need +for him to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Rosamond +silently wished that her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. She was tired +of the faces and figures she had always been used tothe various +irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those +Middlemarch young men whom she had known as boys. She had been at +school with girls of higher position, whose brothers, she felt sure, it +would have been possible for her to be more interested in, than in +these inevitable Middlemarch companions. But she would not have chosen +to mention her wish to her father; and he, for his part, was in no +hurry on the subject. An alderman about to be mayor must by-and-by +enlarge his dinner-parties, but at present there were plenty of guests +at his well-spread table. + +That table often remained covered with the relics of the family +breakfast long after Mr. Vincy had gone with his second son to the +warehouse, and when Miss Morgan was already far on in morning lessons +with the younger girls in the schoolroom. It awaited the family +laggard, who found any sort of inconvenience (to others) less +disagreeable than getting up when he was called. This was the case one +morning of the October in which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon +visiting the Grange; and though the room was a little overheated with +the fire, which had sent the spaniel panting to a remote corner, +Rosamond, for some reason, continued to sit at her embroidery longer +than usual, now and then giving herself a little shake, and laying her +work on her knee to contemplate it with an air of hesitating weariness. +Her mamma, who had returned from an excursion to the kitchen, sat on +the other side of the small work-table with an air of more entire +placidity, until, the clock again giving notice that it was going to +strike, she looked up from the lace-mending which was occupying her +plump fingers and rang the bell. + +Knock at Mr. Freds door again, Pritchard, and tell him it has struck +half-past ten. + +This was said without any change in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. +Vincys face, in which forty-five years had delved neither angles nor +parallels; and pushing back her pink capstrings, she let her work rest +on her lap, while she looked admiringly at her daughter. + +Mamma, said Rosamond, when Fred comes down I wish you would not let +him have red herrings. I cannot bear the smell of them all over the +house at this hour of the morning. + +Oh, my dear, you are so hard on your brothers! It is the only fault I +have to find with you. You are the sweetest temper in the world, but +you are so tetchy with your brothers. + +Not tetchy, mamma: you never hear me speak in an unladylike way. + +Well, but you want to deny them things. + +Brothers are so unpleasant. + +Oh, my dear, you must allow for young men. Be thankful if they have +good hearts. A woman must learn to put up with little things. You will +be married some day. + +Not to any one who is like Fred. + +Dont decry your own brother, my dear. Few young men have less against +them, although he couldnt take his degreeIm sure I cant understand +why, for he seems to me most clever. And you know yourself he was +thought equal to the best society at college. So particular as you are, +my dear, I wonder you are not glad to have such a gentlemanly young man +for a brother. You are always finding fault with Bob because he is not +Fred. + +Oh no, mamma, only because he is Bob. + +Well, my dear, you will not find any Middlemarch young man who has not +something against him. + +Buthere Rosamonds face broke into a smile which suddenly revealed +two dimples. She herself thought unfavorably of these dimples and +smiled little in general society. But I shall not marry any +Middlemarch young man. + +So it seems, my love, for you have as good as refused the pick of +them; and if theres better to be had, Im sure theres no girl better +deserves it. + +Excuse me, mammaI wish you would not say, the pick of them. + +Why, what else are they? + +I mean, mamma, it is rather a vulgar expression. + +Very likely, my dear; I never was a good speaker. What should I say? + +The best of them. + +Why, that seems just as plain and common. If I had had time to think, +I should have said, the most superior young men. But with your +education you must know. + +What must Rosy know, mother? said Mr. Fred, who had slid in +unobserved through the half-open door while the ladies were bending +over their work, and now going up to the fire stood with his back +towards it, warming the soles of his slippers. + +Whether its right to say superior young men, said Mrs. Vincy, +ringing the bell. + +Oh, there are so many superior teas and sugars now. Superior is +getting to be shopkeepers slang. + +Are you beginning to dislike slang, then? said Rosamond, with mild +gravity. + +Only the wrong sort. All choice of words is slang. It marks a class. + +There is correct English: that is not slang. + +I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write +history and essays. And the strongest slang of all is the slang of +poets. + +You will say anything, Fred, to gain your point. + +Well, tell me whether it is slang or poetry to call an ox a +_leg-plaiter_. + +Of course you can call it poetry if you like. + +Aha, Miss Rosy, you dont know Homer from slang. I shall invent a new +game; I shall write bits of slang and poetry on slips, and give them to +you to separate. + +Dear me, how amusing it is to hear young people talk! said Mrs. +Vincy, with cheerful admiration. + +Have you got nothing else for my breakfast, Pritchard? said Fred, to +the servant who brought in coffee and buttered toast; while he walked +round the table surveying the ham, potted beef, and other cold +remnants, with an air of silent rejection, and polite forbearance from +signs of disgust. + +Should you like eggs, sir? + +Eggs, no! Bring me a grilled bone. + +Really, Fred, said Rosamond, when the servant had left the room, if +you must have hot things for breakfast, I wish you would come down +earlier. You can get up at six oclock to go out hunting; I cannot +understand why you find it so difficult to get up on other mornings. + +That is your want of understanding, Rosy. I can get up to go hunting +because I like it. + +What would you think of me if I came down two hours after every one +else and ordered grilled bone? + +I should think you were an uncommonly fast young lady, said Fred, +eating his toast with the utmost composure. + +I cannot see why brothers are to make themselves disagreeable, any +more than sisters. + +I dont make myself disagreeable; it is you who find me so. +Disagreeable is a word that describes your feelings and not my +actions. + +I think it describes the smell of grilled bone. + +Not at all. It describes a sensation in your little nose associated +with certain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Lemons +school. Look at my mother; you dont see her objecting to everything +except what she does herself. She is my notion of a pleasant woman. + +Bless you both, my dears, and dont quarrel, said Mrs. Vincy, with +motherly cordiality. Come, Fred, tell us all about the new doctor. How +is your uncle pleased with him? + +Pretty well, I think. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then +screws up his face while he hears the answers, as if they were pinching +his toes. Thats his way. Ah, here comes my grilled bone. + +But how came you to stay out so late, my dear? You only said you were +going to your uncles. + +Oh, I dined at Plymdales. We had whist. Lydgate was there too. + +And what do you think of him? He is very gentlemanly, I suppose. They +say he is of excellent familyhis relations quite county people. + +Yes, said Fred. There was a Lydgate at Johns who spent no end of +money. I find this man is a second cousin of his. But rich men may have +very poor devils for second cousins. + +It always makes a difference, though, to be of good family, said +Rosamond, with a tone of decision which showed that she had thought on +this subject. Rosamond felt that she might have been happier if she had +not been the daughter of a Middlemarch manufacturer. She disliked +anything which reminded her that her mothers father had been an +innkeeper. Certainly any one remembering the fact might think that Mrs. +Vincy had the air of a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed +to the most capricious orders of gentlemen. + +I thought it was odd his name was Tertius, said the bright-faced +matron, but of course its a name in the family. But now, tell us +exactly what sort of man he is. + +Oh, tallish, dark, clevertalks wellrather a prig, I think. + +I never can make out what you mean by a prig, said Rosamond. + +A fellow who wants to show that he has opinions. + +Why, my dear, doctors must have opinions, said Mrs. Vincy. What are +they there for else? + +Yes, mother, the opinions they are paid for. But a prig is a fellow +who is always making you a present of his opinions. + +I suppose Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate, said Rosamond, not without +a touch of innuendo. + +Really, I cant say. said Fred, rather glumly, as he left the table, +and taking up a novel which he had brought down with him, threw himself +into an arm-chair. If you are jealous of her, go oftener to Stone +Court yourself and eclipse her. + +I wish you would not be so vulgar, Fred. If you have finished, pray +ring the bell. + +It is true, thoughwhat your brother says, Rosamond, Mrs. Vincy +began, when the servant had cleared the table. It is a thousand pities +you havent patience to go and see your uncle more, so proud of you as +he is, and wanted you to live with him. Theres no knowing what he +might have done for you as well as for Fred. God knows, Im fond of +having you at home with me, but I can part with my children for their +good. And now it stands to reason that your uncle Featherstone will do +something for Mary Garth. + +Mary Garth can bear being at Stone Court, because she likes that +better than being a governess, said Rosamond, folding up her work. I +would rather not have anything left to me if I must earn it by enduring +much of my uncles cough and his ugly relations. + +He cant be long for this world, my dear; I wouldnt hasten his end, +but what with asthma and that inward complaint, let us hope there is +something better for him in another. And I have no ill-will towards +Mary Garth, but theres justice to be thought of. And Mr. +Featherstones first wife brought him no money, as my sister did. Her +nieces and nephews cant have so much claim as my sisters. And I must +say I think Mary Garth a dreadful plain girlmore fit for a governess. + +Every one would not agree with you there, mother, said Fred, who +seemed to be able to read and listen too. + +Well, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if she _had_ +some fortune left her,a man marries his wifes relations, and the +Garths are so poor, and live in such a small way. But I shall leave you +to your studies, my dear; for I must go and do some shopping. + +Freds studies are not very deep, said Rosamond, rising with her +mamma, he is only reading a novel. + +Well, well, by-and-by hell go to his Latin and things, said Mrs. +Vincy, soothingly, stroking her sons head. Theres a fire in the +smoking-room on purpose. Its your fathers wish, you knowFred, my +dearand I always tell him you will be good, and go to college again to +take your degree. + +Fred drew his mothers hand down to his lips, but said nothing. + +I suppose you are not going out riding to-day? said Rosamond, +lingering a little after her mamma was gone. + +No; why? + +Papa says I may have the chestnut to ride now. + +You can go with me to-morrow, if you like. Only I am going to Stone +Court, remember. + +I want to ride so much, it is indifferent to me where we go. Rosamond +really wished to go to Stone Court, of all other places. + +Oh, I say, Rosy, said Fred, as she was passing out of the room, if +you are going to the piano, let me come and play some airs with you. + +Pray do not ask me this morning. + +Why not this morning? + +Really, Fred, I wish you would leave off playing the flute. A man +looks very silly playing the flute. And you play so out of tune. + +When next any one makes love to you, Miss Rosamond, I will tell him +how obliging you are. + +Why should you expect me to oblige you by hearing you play the flute, +any more than I should expect you to oblige me by not playing it? + +And why should you expect me to take you out riding? + +This question led to an adjustment, for Rosamond had set her mind on +that particular ride. + +So Fred was gratified with nearly an hours practice of Ar hyd y nos, +Ye banks and braes, and other favorite airs from his Instructor on +the Flute; a wheezy performance, into which he threw much ambition and +an irrepressible hopefulness. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +He had more tow on his distaffe +Than Gerveis knew. +CHAUCER. + + +The ride to Stone Court, which Fred and Rosamond took the next morning, +lay through a pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and +pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in bushy beauty and to +spread out coral fruit for the birds. Little details gave each field a +particular physiognomy, dear to the eyes that have looked on them from +childhood: the pool in the corner where the grasses were dank and trees +leaned whisperingly; the great oak shadowing a bare place in +mid-pasture; the high bank where the ash-trees grew; the sudden slope +of the old marl-pit making a red background for the burdock; the +huddled roofs and ricks of the homestead without a traceable way of +approach; the gray gate and fences against the depths of the bordering +wood; and the stray hovel, its old, old thatch full of mossy hills and +valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow such as we travel +far to see in later life, and see larger, but not more beautiful. These +are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred +soulsthe things they toddled among, or perhaps learned by heart +standing between their fathers knees while he drove leisurely. + +But the road, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have +seen, was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it was into +Lowick parish that Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles +riding. Another mile would bring them to Stone Court, and at the end of +the first half, the house was already visible, looking as if it had +been arrested in its growth toward a stone mansion by an unexpected +budding of farm-buildings on its left flank, which had hindered it from +becoming anything more than the substantial dwelling of a gentleman +farmer. It was not the less agreeable an object in the distance for the +cluster of pinnacled corn-ricks which balanced the fine row of walnuts +on the right. + +Presently it was possible to discern something that might be a gig on +the circular drive before the front door. + +Dear me, said Rosamond, I hope none of my uncles horrible relations +are there. + +They are, though. That is Mrs. Waules gigthe last yellow gig left, I +should think. When I see Mrs. Waule in it, I understand how yellow can +have been worn for mourning. That gig seems to me more funereal than a +hearse. But then Mrs. Waule always has black crape on. How does she +manage it, Rosy? Her friends cant always be dying. + +I dont know at all. And she is not in the least evangelical, said +Rosamond, reflectively, as if that religious point of view would have +fully accounted for perpetual crape. And, not poor, she added, after +a moments pause. + +No, by George! They are as rich as Jews, those Waules and +Featherstones; I mean, for people like them, who dont want to spend +anything. And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are +afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family. But I +believe he hates them all. + +The Mrs. Waule who was so far from being admirable in the eyes of these +distant connections, had happened to say this very morning (not at all +with a defiant air, but in a low, muffled, neutral tone, as of a voice +heard through cotton wool) that she did not wish to enjoy their good +opinion. She was seated, as she observed, on her own brothers hearth, +and had been Jane Featherstone five-and-twenty years before she had +been Jane Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brothers +name had been made free with by those who had no right to it. + +What are you driving at there? said Mr. Featherstone, holding his +stick between his knees and settling his wig, while he gave her a +momentary sharp glance, which seemed to react on him like a draught of +cold air and set him coughing. + +Mrs. Waule had to defer her answer till he was quiet again, till Mary +Garth had supplied him with fresh syrup, and he had begun to rub the +gold knob of his stick, looking bitterly at the fire. It was a bright +fire, but it made no difference to the chill-looking purplish tint of +Mrs. Waules face, which was as neutral as her voice; having mere +chinks for eyes, and lips that hardly moved in speaking. + +The doctors cant master that cough, brother. Its just like what I +have; for Im your own sister, constitution and everything. But, as I +was saying, its a pity Mrs. Vincys family cant be better conducted. + +Tchah! you said nothing o the sort. You said somebody had made free +with my name. + +And no more than can be proved, if what everybody says is true. My +brother Solomon tells me its the talk up and down in Middlemarch how +unsteady young Vincy is, and has been forever gambling at billiards +since home he came. + +Nonsense! Whats a game at billiards? Its a good gentlemanly game; +and young Vincy is not a clodhopper. If your son John took to +billiards, now, hed make a fool of himself. + +Your nephew John never took to billiards or any other game, brother, +and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, if what everybody +says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Vincy the +fathers pocket. For they say hes been losing money for years, though +nobody would think so, to see him go coursing and keeping open house as +they do. And Ive heard say Mr. Bulstrode condemns Mrs. Vincy beyond +anything for her flightiness, and spoiling her children so. + +Whats Bulstrode to me? I dont bank with him. + +Well, Mrs. Bulstrode is Mr. Vincys own sister, and they do say that +Mr. Vincy mostly trades on the Bank money; and you may see yourself, +brother, when a woman past forty has pink strings always flying, and +that light way of laughing at everything, its very unbecoming. But +indulging your children is one thing, and finding money to pay their +debts is another. And its openly said that young Vincy has raised +money on his expectations. I dont say what expectations. Miss Garth +hears me, and is welcome to tell again. I know young people hang +together. + +No, thank you, Mrs. Waule, said Mary Garth. I dislike hearing +scandal too much to wish to repeat it. + +Mr. Featherstone rubbed the knob of his stick and made a brief +convulsive show of laughter, which had much the same genuineness as an +old whist-players chuckle over a bad hand. Still looking at the fire, +he said + +And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasnt got expectations? Such a +fine, spirited fellow is like enough to have em. + +There was a slight pause before Mrs. Waule replied, and when she did +so, her voice seemed to be slightly moistened with tears, though her +face was still dry. + +Whether or no, brother, it is naturally painful to me and my brother +Solomon to hear your name made free with, and your complaint being such +as may carry you off sudden, and people who are no more Featherstones +than the Merry-Andrew at the fair, openly reckoning on your property +coming to _them_. And me your own sister, and Solomon your own brother! +And if thats to be it, what has it pleased the Almighty to make +families for? Here Mrs. Waules tears fell, but with moderation. + +Come, out with it, Jane! said Mr. Featherstone, looking at her. You +mean to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money +on what he says he knows about my will, eh? + +I never said so, brother (Mrs. Waules voice had again become dry and +unshaken). It was told me by my brother Solomon last night when he +called coming from market to give me advice about the old wheat, me +being a widow, and my son John only three-and-twenty, though steady +beyond anything. And he had it from most undeniable authority, and not +one, but many. + +Stuff and nonsense! I dont believe a word of it. Its all a got-up +story. Go to the window, missy; I thought I heard a horse. See if the +doctors coming. + +Not got up by me, brother, nor yet by Solomon, who, whatever else he +may beand I dont deny he has odditieshas made his will and parted +his property equal between such kin as hes friends with; though, for +my part, I think there are times when some should be considered more +than others. But Solomon makes it no secret what he means to do. + +The more fool he! said Mr. Featherstone, with some difficulty; +breaking into a severe fit of coughing that required Mary Garth to +stand near him, so that she did not find out whose horses they were +which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. + +Before Mr. Featherstones cough was quiet, Rosamond entered, bearing up +her riding-habit with much grace. She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. +Waule, who said stiffly, How do you do, miss? smiled and nodded +silently to Mary, and remained standing till the coughing should cease, +and allow her uncle to notice her. + +Heyday, miss! he said at last, you have a fine color. Wheres Fred? + +Seeing about the horses. He will be in presently. + +Sit down, sit down. Mrs. Waule, youd better go. + +Even those neighbors who had called Peter Featherstone an old fox, had +never accused him of being insincerely polite, and his sister was quite +used to the peculiar absence of ceremony with which he marked his sense +of blood-relationship. Indeed, she herself was accustomed to think that +entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in +the Almightys intentions about families. She rose slowly without any +sign of resentment, and said in her usual muffled monotone, Brother, I +hope the new doctor will be able to do something for you. Solomon says +theres great talk of his cleverness. Im sure its my wish you should +be spared. And theres none more ready to nurse you than your own +sister and your own nieces, if youd only say the word. Theres +Rebecca, and Joanna, and Elizabeth, you know. + +Ay, ay, I rememberyoull see Ive remembered em allall dark and +ugly. Theyd need have some money, eh? There never was any beauty in +the women of our family; but the Featherstones have always had some +money, and the Waules too. Waule had money too. A warm man was Waule. +Ay, ay; moneys a good egg; and if youve got money to leave behind +you, lay it in a warm nest. Good-by, Mrs. Waule. Here Mr. Featherstone +pulled at both sides of his wig as if he wanted to deafen himself, and +his sister went away ruminating on this oracular speech of his. +Notwithstanding her jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, there +remained as the nethermost sediment in her mental shallows a persuasion +that her brother Peter Featherstone could never leave his chief +property away from his blood-relations:else, why had the Almighty +carried off his two wives both childless, after he had gained so much +by manganese and things, turning up when nobody expected it?and why +was there a Lowick parish church, and the Waules and Powderells all +sitting in the same pew for generations, and the Featherstone pew next +to them, if, the Sunday after her brother Peters death, everybody was +to know that the property was gone out of the family? The human mind +has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result +was not strictly conceivable. But we are frightened at much that is not +strictly conceivable. + +When Fred came in the old man eyed him with a peculiar twinkle, which +the younger had often had reason to interpret as pride in the +satisfactory details of his appearance. + +You two misses go away, said Mr. Featherstone. I want to speak to +Fred. + +Come into my room, Rosamond, you will not mind the cold for a little +while, said Mary. The two girls had not only known each other in +childhood, but had been at the same provincial school together (Mary as +an articled pupil), so that they had many memories in common, and liked +very well to talk in private. Indeed, this _tte--tte_ was one of +Rosamonds objects in coming to Stone Court. + +Old Featherstone would not begin the dialogue till the door had been +closed. He continued to look at Fred with the same twinkle and with one +of his habitual grimaces, alternately screwing and widening his mouth; +and when he spoke, it was in a low tone, which might be taken for that +of an informer ready to be bought off, rather than for the tone of an +offended senior. He was not a man to feel any strong moral indignation +even on account of trespasses against himself. It was natural that +others should want to get an advantage over him, but then, he was a +little too cunning for them. + +So, sir, youve been paying ten per cent for money which youve +promised to pay off by mortgaging my land when Im dead and gone, eh? +You put my life at a twelvemonth, say. But I can alter my will yet. + +Fred blushed. He had not borrowed money in that way, for excellent +reasons. But he was conscious of having spoken with some confidence +(perhaps with more than he exactly remembered) about his prospect of +getting Featherstones land as a future means of paying present debts. + +I dont know what you refer to, sir. I have certainly never borrowed +any money on such an insecurity. Please do explain. + +No, sir, its you must explain. I can alter my will yet, let me tell +you. Im of sound mindcan reckon compound interest in my head, and +remember every fools name as well as I could twenty years ago. What +the deuce? Im under eighty. I say, you must contradict this story. + +I have contradicted it, sir, Fred answered, with a touch of +impatience, not remembering that his uncle did not verbally +discriminate contradicting from disproving, though no one was further +from confounding the two ideas than old Featherstone, who often +wondered that so many fools took his own assertions for proofs. But I +contradict it again. The story is a silly lie. + +Nonsense! you must bring dockiments. It comes from authority. + +Name the authority, and make him name the man of whom I borrowed the +money, and then I can disprove the story. + +Its pretty good authority, I thinka man who knows most of what goes +on in Middlemarch. Its that fine, religious, charitable uncle o +yours. Come now! Here Mr. Featherstone had his peculiar inward shake +which signified merriment. + +Mr. Bulstrode? + +Who else, eh? + +Then the story has grown into this lie out of some sermonizing words +he may have let fall about me. Do they pretend that he named the man +who lent me the money? + +If there is such a man, depend upon it Bulstrode knows him. But, +supposing you only tried to get the money lent, and didnt get +itBulstrode ud know that too. You bring me a writing from Bulstrode +to say he doesnt believe youve ever promised to pay your debts out o +my land. Come now! + +Mr. Featherstones face required its whole scale of grimaces as a +muscular outlet to his silent triumph in the soundness of his +faculties. + +Fred felt himself to be in a disgusting dilemma. + +You must be joking, sir. Mr. Bulstrode, like other men, believes +scores of things that are not true, and he has a prejudice against me. +I could easily get him to write that he knew no facts in proof of the +report you speak of, though it might lead to unpleasantness. But I +could hardly ask him to write down what he believes or does not believe +about me. Fred paused an instant, and then added, in politic appeal to +his uncles vanity, That is hardly a thing for a gentleman to ask. +But he was disappointed in the result. + +Ay, I know what you mean. Youd sooner offend me than Bulstrode. And +whats he?hes got no land hereabout that ever I heard tell of. A +speckilating fellow! He may come down any day, when the devil leaves +off backing him. And thats what his religion means: he wants God +Amighty to come in. Thats nonsense! Theres one thing I made out +pretty clear when I used to go to churchand its this: God Amighty +sticks to the land. He promises land, and He gives land, and He makes +chaps rich with corn and cattle. But you take the other side. You like +Bulstrode and speckilation better than Featherstone and land. + +I beg your pardon, sir, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to +the fire and beating his boot with his whip. I like neither Bulstrode +nor speculation. He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated. + +Well, well, you can do without me, thats pretty clear, said old +Featherstone, secretly disliking the possibility that Fred would show +himself at all independent. You neither want a bit of land to make a +squire of you instead of a starving parson, nor a lift of a hundred +pound by the way. Its all one to me. I can make five codicils if I +like, and I shall keep my bank-notes for a nest-egg. Its all one to +me. + +Fred colored again. Featherstone had rarely given him presents of +money, and at this moment it seemed almost harder to part with the +immediate prospect of bank-notes than with the more distant prospect of +the land. + +I am not ungrateful, sir. I never meant to show disregard for any kind +intentions you might have towards me. On the contrary. + +Very good. Then prove it. You bring me a letter from Bulstrode saying +he doesnt believe youve been cracking and promising to pay your debts +out o my land, and then, if theres any scrape youve got into, well +see if I cant back you a bit. Come now! Thats a bargain. Here, give +me your arm. Ill try and walk round the room. + +Fred, in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to be a +little sorry for the unloved, unvenerated old man, who with his +dropsical legs looked more than usually pitiable in walking. While +giving his arm, he thought that he should not himself like to be an old +fellow with his constitution breaking up; and he waited +good-temperedly, first before the window to hear the wonted remarks +about the guinea-fowls and the weather-cock, and then before the scanty +book-shelves, of which the chief glories in dark calf were Josephus, +Culpepper, Klopstocks Messiah, and several volumes of the +Gentlemans Magazine. + +Read me the names o the books. Come now! youre a college man. + +Fred gave him the titles. + +What did missy want with more books? What must you be bringing her +more books for? + +They amuse her, sir. She is very fond of reading. + +A little too fond, said Mr. Featherstone, captiously. She was for +reading when she sat with me. But I put a stop to that. Shes got the +newspaper to read out loud. Thats enough for one day, I should think. +I cant abide to see her reading to herself. You mind and not bring her +any more books, do you hear? + +Yes, sir, I hear. Fred had received this order before, and had +secretly disobeyed it. He intended to disobey it again. + +Ring the bell, said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down. + +Rosamond and Mary had been talking faster than their male friends. They +did not think of sitting down, but stood at the toilet-table near the +window while Rosamond took off her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied +little touches of her finger-tips to her hairhair of infantine +fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. Mary Garth seemed all the plainer +standing at an angle between the two nymphsthe one in the glass, and +the one out of it, who looked at each other with eyes of heavenly blue, +deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder +could put into them, and deep enough to hide the meanings of the owner +if these should happen to be less exquisite. Only a few children in +Middlemarch looked blond by the side of Rosamond, and the slim figure +displayed by her riding-habit had delicate undulations. In fact, most +men in Middlemarch, except her brothers, held that Miss Vincy was the +best girl in the world, and some called her an angel. Mary Garth, on +the contrary, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her +curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it +would not be true to declare, in satisfactory antithesis, that she had +all the virtues. Plainness has its peculiar temptations and vices quite +as much as beauty; it is apt either to feign amiability, or, not +feigning it, to show all the repulsiveness of discontent: at any rate, +to be called an ugly thing in contrast with that lovely creature your +companion, is apt to produce some effect beyond a sense of fine +veracity and fitness in the phrase. At the age of two-and-twenty Mary +had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle +which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if they +were to be obtained in quantities ready mixed, with a flavor of +resignation as required. Her shrewdness had a streak of satiric +bitterness continually renewed and never carried utterly out of sight, +except by a strong current of gratitude towards those who, instead of +telling her that she ought to be contented, did something to make her +so. Advancing womanhood had tempered her plainness, which was of a good +human sort, such as the mothers of our race have very commonly worn in +all latitudes under a more or less becoming headgear. Rembrandt would +have painted her with pleasure, and would have made her broad features +look out of the canvas with intelligent honesty. For honesty, +truth-telling fairness, was Marys reigning virtue: she neither tried +to create illusions, nor indulged in them for her own behoof, and when +she was in a good mood she had humor enough in her to laugh at herself. +When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass, she +said, laughingly + +What a brown patch I am by the side of you, Rosy! You are the most +unbecoming companion. + +Oh no! No one thinks of your appearance, you are so sensible and +useful, Mary. Beauty is of very little consequence in reality, said +Rosamond, turning her head towards Mary, but with eyes swerving towards +the new view of her neck in the glass. + +You mean _my_ beauty, said Mary, rather sardonically. + +Rosamond thought, Poor Mary, she takes the kindest things ill. Aloud +she said, What have you been doing lately? + +I? Oh, minding the housepouring out syruppretending to be amiable +and contentedlearning to have a bad opinion of everybody. + +It is a wretched life for you. + +No, said Mary, curtly, with a little toss of her head. I think my +life is pleasanter than your Miss Morgans. + +Yes; but Miss Morgan is so uninteresting, and not young. + +She is interesting to herself, I suppose; and I am not at all sure +that everything gets easier as one gets older. + +No, said Rosamond, reflectively; one wonders what such people do, +without any prospect. To be sure, there is religion as a support. But, +she added, dimpling, it is very different with you, Mary. You may have +an offer. + +Has any one told you he means to make me one? + +Of course not. I mean, there is a gentleman who may fall in love with +you, seeing you almost every day. + +A certain change in Marys face was chiefly determined by the resolve +not to show any change. + +Does that always make people fall in love? she answered, carelessly; +it seems to me quite as often a reason for detesting each other. + +Not when they are interesting and agreeable. I hear that Mr. Lydgate +is both. + +Oh, Mr. Lydgate! said Mary, with an unmistakable lapse into +indifference. You want to know something about him, she added, not +choosing to indulge Rosamonds indirectness. + +Merely, how you like him. + +There is no question of liking at present. My liking always wants some +little kindness to kindle it. I am not magnanimous enough to like +people who speak to me without seeming to see me. + +Is he so haughty? said Rosamond, with heightened satisfaction. You +know that he is of good family? + +No; he did not give that as a reason. + +Mary! you are the oddest girl. But what sort of looking man is he? +Describe him to me. + +How can one describe a man? I can give you an inventory: heavy +eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid +white handsandlet me seeoh, an exquisite cambric +pocket-handkerchief. But you will see him. You know this is about the +time of his visits. + +Rosamond blushed a little, but said, meditatively, I rather like a +haughty manner. I cannot endure a rattling young man. + +I did not tell you that Mr. Lydgate was haughty; but _il y en a pour +tous les gots_, as little Mamselle used to say, and if any girl can +choose the particular sort of conceit she would like, I should think it +is you, Rosy. + +Haughtiness is not conceit; I call Fred conceited. + +I wish no one said any worse of him. He should be more careful. Mrs. +Waule has been telling uncle that Fred is very unsteady. Mary spoke +from a girlish impulse which got the better of her judgment. There was +a vague uneasiness associated with the word unsteady which she hoped +Rosamond might say something to dissipate. But she purposely abstained +from mentioning Mrs. Waules more special insinuation. + +Oh, Fred is horrid! said Rosamond. She would not have allowed herself +so unsuitable a word to any one but Mary. + +What do you mean by horrid? + +He is so idle, and makes papa so angry, and says he will not take +orders. + +I think Fred is quite right. + +How can you say he is quite right, Mary? I thought you had more sense +of religion. + +He is not fit to be a clergyman. + +But he ought to be fit.Well, then, he is not what he ought to be. I +know some other people who are in the same case. + +But no one approves of them. I should not like to marry a clergyman; +but there must be clergymen. + +It does not follow that Fred must be one. + +But when papa has been at the expense of educating him for it! And +only suppose, if he should have no fortune left him? + +I can suppose that very well, said Mary, dryly. + +Then I wonder you can defend Fred, said Rosamond, inclined to push +this point. + +I dont defend him, said Mary, laughing; I would defend any parish +from having him for a clergyman. + +But of course if he were a clergyman, he must be different. + +Yes, he would be a great hypocrite; and he is not that yet. + +It is of no use saying anything to you, Mary. You always take Freds +part. + +Why should I not take his part? said Mary, lighting up. He would +take mine. He is the only person who takes the least trouble to oblige +me. + +You make me feel very uncomfortable, Mary, said Rosamond, with her +gravest mildness; I would not tell mamma for the world. + +What would you not tell her? said Mary, angrily. + +Pray do not go into a rage, Mary, said Rosamond, mildly as ever. + +If your mamma is afraid that Fred will make me an offer, tell her that +I would not marry him if he asked me. But he is not going to do so, +that I am aware. He certainly never has asked me. + +Mary, you are always so violent. + +And you are always so exasperating. + +I? What can you blame me for? + +Oh, blameless people are always the most exasperating. There is the +bellI think we must go down. + +I did not mean to quarrel, said Rosamond, putting on her hat. + +Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. If one is not to get into a +rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends? + +Am I to repeat what you have said? + +Just as you please. I never say what I am afraid of having repeated. +But let us go down. + +Mr. Lydgate was rather late this morning, but the visitors stayed long +enough to see him; for Mr. Featherstone asked Rosamond to sing to him, +and she herself was so kind as to propose a second favorite song of +hisFlow on, thou shining riverafter she had sung Home, sweet home +(which she detested). This hard-headed old Overreach approved of the +sentimental song, as the suitable garnish for girls, and also as +fundamentally fine, sentiment being the right thing for a song. + +Mr. Featherstone was still applauding the last performance, and +assuring missy that her voice was as clear as a blackbirds, when Mr. +Lydgates horse passed the window. + +His dull expectation of the usual disagreeable routine with an aged +patientwho can hardly believe that medicine would not set him up if +the doctor were only clever enoughadded to his general disbelief in +Middlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this vision +of Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously to +introduce as his niece, though he had never thought it worth while to +speak of Mary Garth in that light. Nothing escaped Lydgate in +Rosamonds graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the notice +which the old mans want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet +gravity, not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing +them afterwards in speaking to Mary, to whom she addressed herself with +so much good-natured interest, that Lydgate, after quickly examining +Mary more fully than he had done before, saw an adorable kindness in +Rosamonds eyes. But Mary from some cause looked rather out of temper. + +Miss Rosy has been singing me a songyouve nothing to say against +that, eh, doctor? said Mr. Featherstone. I like it better than your +physic. + +That has made me forget how the time was going, said Rosamond, rising +to reach her hat, which she had laid aside before singing, so that her +flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above her +riding-habit. Fred, we must really go. + +Very good, said Fred, who had his own reasons for not being in the +best spirits, and wanted to get away. + +Miss Vincy is a musician? said Lydgate, following her with his eyes. +(Every nerve and muscle in Rosamond was adjusted to the consciousness +that she was being looked at. She was by nature an actress of parts +that entered into her _physique:_ she even acted her own character, and +so well, that she did not know it to be precisely her own.) + +The best in Middlemarch, Ill be bound, said Mr. Featherstone, let +the next be who she will. Eh, Fred? Speak up for your sister. + +Im afraid Im out of court, sir. My evidence would be good for +nothing. + +Middlemarch has not a very high standard, uncle, said Rosamond, with +a pretty lightness, going towards her whip, which lay at a distance. + +Lydgate was quick in anticipating her. He reached the whip before she +did, and turned to present it to her. She bowed and looked at him: he +of course was looking at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar +meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden +divine clearance of haze. I think Lydgate turned a little paler than +usual, but Rosamond blushed deeply and felt a certain astonishment. +After that, she was really anxious to go, and did not know what sort of +stupidity her uncle was talking of when she went to shake hands with +him. + +Yet this result, which she took to be a mutual impression, called +falling in love, was just what Rosamond had contemplated beforehand. +Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven a +little future, of which something like this scene was the necessary +beginning. Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly +escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had a +circumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native +merit has urged itself in vain. And a stranger was absolutely necessary +to Rosamonds social romance, which had always turned on a lover and +bridegroom who was not a Middlemarcher, and who had no connections at +all like her own: of late, indeed, the construction seemed to demand +that he should somehow be related to a baronet. Now that she and the +stranger had met, reality proved much more moving than anticipation, +and Rosamond could not doubt that this was the great epoch of her life. +She judged of her own symptoms as those of awakening love, and she held +it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate should have fallen in love at +first sight of her. These things happened so often at balls, and why +not by the morning light, when the complexion showed all the better for +it? Rosamond, though no older than Mary, was rather used to being +fallen in love with; but she, for her part, had remained indifferent +and fastidiously critical towards both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. +And here was Mr. Lydgate suddenly corresponding to her ideal, being +altogether foreign to Middlemarch, carrying a certain air of +distinction congruous with good family, and possessing connections +which offered vistas of that middle-class heaven, rank; a man of +talent, also, whom it would be especially delightful to enslave: in +fact, a man who had touched her nature quite newly, and brought a vivid +interest into her life which was better than any fancied might-be +such as she was in the habit of opposing to the actual. + +Thus, in riding home, both the brother and the sister were preoccupied +and inclined to be silent. Rosamond, whose basis for her structure had +the usual airy slightness, was of remarkably detailed and realistic +imagination when the foundation had been once presupposed; and before +they had ridden a mile she was far on in the costume and introductions +of her wedded life, having determined on her house in Middlemarch, and +foreseen the visits she would pay to her husbands high-bred relatives +at a distance, whose finished manners she could appropriate as +thoroughly as she had done her school accomplishments, preparing +herself thus for vaguer elevations which might ultimately come. There +was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared +about what were considered refinements, and not about the money that +was to pay for them. + +Freds mind, on the other hand, was busy with an anxiety which even his +ready hopefulness could not immediately quell. He saw no way of eluding +Featherstones stupid demand without incurring consequences which he +liked less even than the task of fulfilling it. His father was already +out of humor with him, and would be still more so if he were the +occasion of any additional coolness between his own family and the +Bulstrodes. Then, he himself hated having to go and speak to his uncle +Bulstrode, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolish +things about Featherstones property, and these had been magnified by +report. Fred felt that he made a wretched figure as a fellow who +bragged about expectations from a queer old miser like Featherstone, +and went to beg for certificates at his bidding. Butthose +expectations! He really had them, and he saw no agreeable alternative +if he gave them up; besides, he had lately made a debt which galled him +extremely, and old Featherstone had almost bargained to pay it off. The +whole affair was miserably small: his debts were small, even his +expectations were not anything so very magnificent. Fred had known men +to whom he would have been ashamed of confessing the smallness of his +scrapes. Such ruminations naturally produced a streak of misanthropic +bitterness. To be born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and +inevitable heir to nothing in particular, while such men as Mainwaring +and Vyancertainly life was a poor business, when a spirited young +fellow, with a good appetite for the best of everything, had so poor an +outlook. + +It had not occurred to Fred that the introduction of Bulstrodes name +in the matter was a fiction of old Featherstones; nor could this have +made any difference to his position. He saw plainly enough that the old +man wanted to exercise his power by tormenting him a little, and also +probably to get some satisfaction out of seeing him on unpleasant terms +with Bulstrode. Fred fancied that he saw to the bottom of his uncle +Featherstones soul, though in reality half what he saw there was no +more than the reflex of his own inclinations. The difficult task of +knowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is +chiefly made up of their own wishes. + +Freds main point of debate with himself was, whether he should tell +his father, or try to get through the affair without his fathers +knowledge. It was probably Mrs. Waule who had been talking about him; +and if Mary Garth had repeated Mrs. Waules report to Rosamond, it +would be sure to reach his father, who would as surely question him +about it. He said to Rosamond, as they slackened their pace + +Rosy, did Mary tell you that Mrs. Waule had said anything about me? + +Yes, indeed, she did. + +What? + +That you were very unsteady. + +Was that all? + +I should think that was enough, Fred. + +You are sure she said no more? + +Mary mentioned nothing else. But really, Fred, I think you ought to be +ashamed. + +Oh, fudge! Dont lecture me. What did Mary say about it? + +I am not obliged to tell you. You care so very much what Mary says, +and you are too rude to allow me to speak. + +Of course I care what Mary says. She is the best girl I know. + +I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love with. + +How do you know what men would fall in love with? Girls never know. + +At least, Fred, let me advise _you_ not to fall in love with her, for +she says she would not marry you if you asked her. + +She might have waited till I did ask her. + +I knew it would nettle you, Fred. + +Not at all. She would not have said so if you had not provoked her. +Before reaching home, Fred concluded that he would tell the whole +affair as simply as possible to his father, who might perhaps take on +himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode. + + + + +BOOK II. +OLD AND YOUNG. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +1_st Gent_. How class your man?as better than the most, + Or, seeming better, worse beneath that cloak? + As saint or knave, pilgrim or hypocrite? + +2_d Gent_. Nay, tell me how you class your wealth of books + The drifted relics of all time. + As well sort them at once by size and livery: + Vellum, tall copies, and the common calf + Will hardly cover more diversity + Than all your labels cunningly devised + To class your unread authors. + + +In consequence of what he had heard from Fred, Mr. Vincy determined to +speak with Mr. Bulstrode in his private room at the Bank at half-past +one, when he was usually free from other callers. But a visitor had +come in at one oclock, and Mr. Bulstrode had so much to say to him, +that there was little chance of the interview being over in half an +hour. The bankers speech was fluent, but it was also copious, and he +used up an appreciable amount of time in brief meditative pauses. Do +not imagine his sickly aspect to have been of the yellow, black-haired +sort: he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, +light-gray eyes, and a large forehead. Loud men called his subdued tone +an undertone, and sometimes implied that it was inconsistent with +openness; though there seems to be no reason why a loud man should not +be given to concealment of anything except his own voice, unless it can +be shown that Holy Writ has placed the seat of candor in the lungs. Mr. +Bulstrode had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an +apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those persons who +thought themselves worth hearing infer that he was seeking the utmost +improvement from their discourse. Others, who expected to make no great +figure, disliked this kind of moral lantern turned on them. If you are +not proud of your cellar, there is no thrill of satisfaction in seeing +your guest hold up his wine-glass to the light and look judicial. Such +joys are reserved for conscious merit. Hence Mr. Bulstrodes close +attention was not agreeable to the publicans and sinners in +Middlemarch; it was attributed by some to his being a Pharisee, and by +others to his being Evangelical. Less superficial reasoners among them +wished to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that +five-and-twenty years ago nobody had ever heard of a Bulstrode in +Middlemarch. To his present visitor, Lydgate, the scrutinizing look was +a matter of indifference: he simply formed an unfavorable opinion of +the bankers constitution, and concluded that he had an eager inward +life with little enjoyment of tangible things. + +I shall be exceedingly obliged if you will look in on me here +occasionally, Mr. Lydgate, the banker observed, after a brief pause. +If, as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of finding you a valuable +coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will +be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private. As to the +new hospital, which is nearly finished, I shall consider what you have +said about the advantages of the special destination for fevers. The +decision will rest with me, for though Lord Medlicote has given the +land and timber for the building, he is not disposed to give his +personal attention to the object. + +There are few things better worth the pains in a provincial town like +this, said Lydgate. A fine fever hospital in addition to the old +infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we +get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education +than the spread of such schools over the country? A born provincial man +who has a grain of public spirit as well as a few ideas, should do what +he can to resist the rush of everything that is a little better than +common towards London. Any valid professional aims may often find a +freer, if not a richer field, in the provinces. + +One of Lydgates gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet +capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. About his +ordinary bearing there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation of +success, a confidence in his own powers and integrity much fortified by +contempt for petty obstacles or seductions of which he had had no +experience. But this proud openness was made lovable by an expression +of unaffected good-will. Mr. Bulstrode perhaps liked him the better for +the difference between them in pitch and manners; he certainly liked +him the better, as Rosamond did, for being a stranger in Middlemarch. +One can begin so many things with a new person!even begin to be a +better man. + +I shall rejoice to furnish your zeal with fuller opportunities, Mr. +Bulstrode answered; I mean, by confiding to you the superintendence of +my new hospital, should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I am +determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our two +physicians. Indeed, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this +town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to +be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much withstood. With +regard to the old infirmary, we have gained the initial pointI mean +your election. And now I hope you will not shrink from incurring a +certain amount of jealousy and dislike from your professional brethren +by presenting yourself as a reformer. + +I will not profess bravery, said Lydgate, smiling, but I acknowledge +a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and I should not care for my +profession, if I did not believe that better methods were to be found +and enforced there as well as everywhere else. + +The standard of that profession is low in Middlemarch, my dear sir, +said the banker. I mean in knowledge and skill; not in social status, +for our medical men are most of them connected with respectable +townspeople here. My own imperfect health has induced me to give some +attention to those palliative resources which the divine mercy has +placed within our reach. I have consulted eminent men in the +metropolis, and I am painfully aware of the backwardness under which +medical treatment labors in our provincial districts. + +Yes;with our present medical rules and education, one must be +satisfied now and then to meet with a fair practitioner. As to all the +higher questions which determine the starting-point of a diagnosisas +to the philosophy of medical evidenceany glimmering of these can only +come from a scientific culture of which country practitioners have +usually no more notion than the man in the moon. + +Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the form which +Lydgate had given to his agreement not quite suited to his +comprehension. Under such circumstances a judicious man changes the +topic and enters on ground where his own gifts may be more useful. + +I am aware, he said, that the peculiar bias of medical ability is +towards material means. Nevertheless, Mr. Lydgate, I hope we shall not +vary in sentiment as to a measure in which you are not likely to be +actively concerned, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be an +aid to me. You recognize, I hope; the existence of spiritual interests +in your patients? + +Certainly I do. But those words are apt to cover different meanings to +different minds. + +Precisely. And on such subjects wrong teaching is as fatal as no +teaching. Now a point which I have much at heart to secure is a new +regulation as to clerical attendance at the old infirmary. The building +stands in Mr. Farebrothers parish. You know Mr. Farebrother? + +I have seen him. He gave me his vote. I must call to thank him. He +seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. And I understand he is a +naturalist. + +Mr. Farebrother, my dear sir, is a man deeply painful to contemplate. +I suppose there is not a clergyman in this country who has greater +talents. Mr. Bulstrode paused and looked meditative. + +I have not yet been pained by finding any excessive talent in +Middlemarch, said Lydgate, bluntly. + +What I desire, Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, +is that Mr. Farebrothers attendance at the hospital should be +superseded by the appointment of a chaplainof Mr. Tyke, in factand +that no other spiritual aid should be called in. + +As a medical man I could have no opinion on such a point unless I knew +Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he +was applied. Lydgate smiled, but he was bent on being circumspect. + +Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of this measure at +present. Buthere Mr. Bulstrode began to speak with a more chiselled +emphasisthe subject is likely to be referred to the medical board of +the infirmary, and what I trust I may ask of you is, that in virtue of +the cooperation between us which I now look forward to, you will not, +so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my opponents in this +matter. + +I hope I shall have nothing to do with clerical disputes, said +Lydgate. The path I have chosen is to work well in my own profession. + +My responsibility, Mr. Lydgate, is of a broader kind. With me, indeed, +this question is one of sacred accountableness; whereas with my +opponents, I have good reason to say that it is an occasion for +gratifying a spirit of worldly opposition. But I shall not therefore +drop one iota of my convictions, or cease to identify myself with that +truth which an evil generation hates. I have devoted myself to this +object of hospital-improvement, but I will boldly confess to you, Mr. +Lydgate, that I should have no interest in hospitals if I believed that +nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. I +have another ground of action, and in the face of persecution I will +not conceal it. + +Mr. Bulstrodes voice had become a loud and agitated whisper as he said +the last words. + +There we certainly differ, said Lydgate. But he was not sorry that +the door was now opened, and Mr. Vincy was announced. That florid +sociable personage was become more interesting to him since he had seen +Rosamond. Not that, like her, he had been weaving any future in which +their lots were united; but a man naturally remembers a charming girl +with pleasure, and is willing to dine where he may see her again. +Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy had given that invitation which he had +been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that +she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor into great +favor. + +Mr. Bulstrode, alone with his brother-in-law, poured himself out a +glass of water, and opened a sandwich-box. + +I cannot persuade you to adopt my regimen, Vincy? + +No, no; Ive no opinion of that system. Life wants padding, said Mr. +Vincy, unable to omit his portable theory. However, he went on, +accenting the word, as if to dismiss all irrelevance, what I came here +to talk about was a little affair of my young scapegrace, Freds. + +That is a subject on which you and I are likely to take quite as +different views as on diet, Vincy. + +I hope not this time. (Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored.) +The fact is, its about a whim of old Featherstones. Somebody has +been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old man, to +try to set him against Fred. Hes very fond of Fred, and is likely to +do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as told Fred that +he means to leave him his land, and that makes other people jealous. + +Vincy, I must repeat, that you will not get any concurrence from me as +to the course you have pursued with your eldest son. It was entirely +from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family +of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting +money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in +giving him extravagant idle habits. You are now reaping the +consequences. + +To point out other peoples errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode rarely +shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was not equally prepared to be patient. When +a man has the immediate prospect of being mayor, and is ready, in the +interests of commerce, to take up a firm attitude on politics +generally, he has naturally a sense of his importance to the framework +of things which seems to throw questions of private conduct into the +background. And this particular reproof irritated him more than any +other. It was eminently superfluous to him to be told that he was +reaping the consequences. But he felt his neck under Bulstrodes yoke; +and though he usually enjoyed kicking, he was anxious to refrain from +that relief. + +As to that, Bulstrode, its no use going back. Im not one of your +pattern men, and I dont pretend to be. I couldnt foresee everything +in the trade; there wasnt a finer business in Middlemarch than ours, +and the lad was clever. My poor brother was in the Church, and would +have done wellhad got preferment already, but that stomach fever took +him off: else he might have been a dean by this time. I think I was +justified in what I tried to do for Fred. If you come to religion, it +seems to me a man shouldnt want to carve out his meat to an ounce +beforehand:one must trust a little to Providence and be generous. Its +a good British feeling to try and raise your family a little: in my +opinion, its a fathers duty to give his sons a fine chance. + +I dont wish to act otherwise than as your best friend, Vincy, when I +say that what you have been uttering just now is one mass of +worldliness and inconsistent folly. + +Very well, said Mr. Vincy, kicking in spite of resolutions, I never +professed to be anything but worldly; and, whats more, I dont see +anybody else who is not worldly. I suppose you dont conduct business +on what you call unworldly principles. The only difference I see is +that one worldliness is a little bit honester than another. + +This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy, said Mr. Bulstrode, +who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown himself back in his chair, and +shaded his eyes as if weary. You had some more particular business. + +Yes, yes. The long and short of it is, somebody has told old +Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has been borrowing +or trying to borrow money on the prospect of his land. Of course you +never said any such nonsense. But the old fellow will insist on it that +Fred should bring him a denial in your handwriting; that is, just a bit +of a note saying you dont believe a word of such stuff, either of his +having borrowed or tried to borrow in such a fools way. I suppose you +can have no objection to do that. + +Pardon me. I have an objection. I am by no means sure that your son, +in his recklessness and ignoranceI will use no severer wordhas not +tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that +some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a +presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other +folly in the world. + +But Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed money on the +pretence of any understanding about his uncles land. He is not a liar. +I dont want to make him better than he is. I have blown him up +wellnobody can say I wink at what he does. But he is not a liar. And I +should have thoughtbut I may be wrongthat there was no religion to +hinder a man from believing the best of a young fellow, when you dont +know worse. It seems to me it would be a poor sort of religion to put a +spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you dont believe such harm of +him as youve got no good reason to believe. + +I am not at all sure that I should be befriending your son by +smoothing his way to the future possession of Featherstones property. +I cannot regard wealth as a blessing to those who use it simply as a +harvest for this world. You do not like to hear these things, Vincy, +but on this occasion I feel called upon to tell you that I have no +motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you +refer to. I do not shrink from saying that it will not tend to your +sons eternal welfare or to the glory of God. Why then should you +expect me to pen this kind of affidavit, which has no object but to +keep up a foolish partiality and secure a foolish bequest? + +If you mean to hinder everybody from having money but saints and +evangelists, you must give up some profitable partnerships, thats all +I can say, Mr. Vincy burst out very bluntly. It may be for the glory +of God, but it is not for the glory of the Middlemarch trade, that +Plymdales house uses those blue and green dyes it gets from the +Brassing manufactory; they rot the silk, thats all I know about it. +Perhaps if other people knew so much of the profit went to the glory of +God, they might like it better. But I dont mind so much about thatI +could get up a pretty row, if I chose. + +Mr. Bulstrode paused a little before he answered. You pain me very +much by speaking in this way, Vincy. I do not expect you to understand +my grounds of actionit is not an easy thing even to thread a path for +principles in the intricacies of the worldstill less to make the +thread clear for the careless and the scoffing. You must remember, if +you please, that I stretch my tolerance towards you as my wifes +brother, and that it little becomes you to complain of me as +withholding material help towards the worldly position of your family. +I must remind you that it is not your own prudence or judgment that has +enabled you to keep your place in the trade. + +Very likely not; but you have been no loser by my trade yet, said Mr. +Vincy, thoroughly nettled (a result which was seldom much retarded by +previous resolutions). And when you married Harriet, I dont see how +you could expect that our families should not hang by the same nail. If +youve changed your mind, and want my family to come down in the world, +youd better say so. Ive never changed; Im a plain Churchman now, +just as I used to be before doctrines came up. I take the world as I +find it, in trade and everything else. Im contented to be no worse +than my neighbors. But if you want us to come down in the world, say +so. I shall know better what to do then. + +You talk unreasonably. Shall you come down in the world for want of +this letter about your son? + +Well, whether or not, I consider it very unhandsome of you to refuse +it. Such doings may be lined with religion, but outside they have a +nasty, dog-in-the-manger look. You might as well slander Fred: it comes +pretty near to it when you refuse to say you didnt set a slander +going. Its this sort of thingthis tyrannical spirit, wanting to play +bishop and banker everywhereits this sort of thing makes a mans name +stink. + +Vincy, if you insist on quarrelling with me, it will be exceedingly +painful to Harriet as well as myself, said Mr. Bulstrode, with a +trifle more eagerness and paleness than usual. + +I dont want to quarrel. Its for my interestand perhaps for yours +toothat we should be friends. I bear you no grudge; I think no worse +of you than I do of other people. A man who half starves himself, and +goes the length in family prayers, and so on, that you do, believes in +his religion whatever it may be: you could turn over your capital just +as fast with cursing and swearing:plenty of fellows do. You like to be +master, theres no denying that; you must be first chop in heaven, else +you wont like it much. But youre my sisters husband, and we ought to +stick together; and if I know Harriet, shell consider it your fault if +we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this way, and refuse to do +Fred a good turn. And I dont mean to say I shall bear it well. I +consider it unhandsome. + +Mr. Vincy rose, began to button his great-coat, and looked steadily at +his brother-in-law, meaning to imply a demand for a decisive answer. + +This was not the first time that Mr. Bulstrode had begun by admonishing +Mr. Vincy, and had ended by seeing a very unsatisfactory reflection of +himself in the coarse unflattering mirror which that manufacturers +mind presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and +perhaps his experience ought to have warned him how the scene would +end. But a full-fed fountain will be generous with its waters even in +the rain, when they are worse than useless; and a fine fount of +admonition is apt to be equally irrepressible. + +It was not in Mr. Bulstrodes nature to comply directly in consequence +of uncomfortable suggestions. Before changing his course, he always +needed to shape his motives and bring them into accordance with his +habitual standard. He said, at last + +I will reflect a little, Vincy. I will mention the subject to Harriet. +I shall probably send you a letter. + +Very well. As soon as you can, please. I hope it will all be settled +before I see you to-morrow. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Follows here the strict receipt +For that sauce to dainty meat, +Named Idleness, which many eat +By preference, and call it sweet: +_First watch for morsels, like a hound +Mix well with buffets, stir them round +With good thick oil of flatteries, And froth with mean self-lauding +lies. +Serve warm: the vessels you must choose +To keep it in are dead mens shoes._ + + +Mr. Bulstrodes consultation of Harriet seemed to have had the effect +desired by Mr. Vincy, for early the next morning a letter came which +Fred could carry to Mr. Featherstone as the required testimony. + +The old gentleman was staying in bed on account of the cold weather, +and as Mary Garth was not to be seen in the sitting-room, Fred went +up-stairs immediately and presented the letter to his uncle, who, +propped up comfortably on a bed-rest, was not less able than usual to +enjoy his consciousness of wisdom in distrusting and frustrating +mankind. He put on his spectacles to read the letter, pursing up his +lips and drawing down their corners. + +_Under the circumstances I will not decline to state my +conviction_tchah! what fine words the fellow puts! Hes as fine as an +auctioneer_that your son Frederic has not obtained any advance of +money on bequests promised by Mr. Featherstone_promised? who said I +had ever promised? I promise nothingI shall make codicils as long as I +like_and that considering the nature of such a proceeding, it is +unreasonable to presume that a young man of sense and character would +attempt it_ah, but the gentleman doesnt say you are a young man of +sense and character, mark you that, sir!_As to my own concern with any +report of such a nature, I distinctly affirm that I never made any +statement to the effect that your son had borrowed money on any +property that might accrue to him on Mr. Featherstones demise_bless +my heart! propertyaccruedemise! Lawyer Standish is nothing to him. +He couldnt speak finer if he wanted to borrow. Well, Mr. Featherstone +here looked over his spectacles at Fred, while he handed back the +letter to him with a contemptuous gesture, you dont suppose I believe +a thing because Bulstrode writes it out fine, eh? + +Fred colored. You wished to have the letter, sir. I should think it +very likely that Mr. Bulstrodes denial is as good as the authority +which told you what he denies. + +Every bit. I never said I believed either one or the other. And now +what d you expect? said Mr. Featherstone, curtly, keeping on his +spectacles, but withdrawing his hands under his wraps. + +I expect nothing, sir. Fred with difficulty restrained himself from +venting his irritation. I came to bring you the letter. If you like I +will bid you good morning. + +Not yet, not yet. Ring the bell; I want missy to come. + +It was a servant who came in answer to the bell. + +Tell missy to come! said Mr. Featherstone, impatiently. What +business had she to go away? He spoke in the same tone when Mary came. + +Why couldnt you sit still here till I told you to go? I want my +waistcoat now. I told you always to put it on the bed. + +Marys eyes looked rather red, as if she had been crying. It was clear +that Mr. Featherstone was in one of his most snappish humors this +morning, and though Fred had now the prospect of receiving the +much-needed present of money, he would have preferred being free to +turn round on the old tyrant and tell him that Mary Garth was too good +to be at his beck. Though Fred had risen as she entered the room, she +had barely noticed him, and looked as if her nerves were quivering with +the expectation that something would be thrown at her. But she never +had anything worse than words to dread. When she went to reach the +waistcoat from a peg, Fred went up to her and said, Allow me. + +Let it alone! You bring it, missy, and lay it down here, said Mr. +Featherstone. Now you go away again till I call you, he added, when +the waistcoat was laid down by him. It was usual with him to season his +pleasure in showing favor to one person by being especially +disagreeable to another, and Mary was always at hand to furnish the +condiment. When his own relatives came she was treated better. Slowly +he took out a bunch of keys from the waistcoat pocket, and slowly he +drew forth a tin box which was under the bed-clothes. + +You expect I am going to give you a little fortune, eh? he said, +looking above his spectacles and pausing in the act of opening the lid. + +Not at all, sir. You were good enough to speak of making me a present +the other day, else, of course, I should not have thought of the +matter. But Fred was of a hopeful disposition, and a vision had +presented itself of a sum just large enough to deliver him from a +certain anxiety. When Fred got into debt, it always seemed to him +highly probable that something or otherhe did not necessarily conceive +whatwould come to pass enabling him to pay in due time. And now that +the providential occurrence was apparently close at hand, it would have +been sheer absurdity to think that the supply would be short of the +need: as absurd as a faith that believed in half a miracle for want of +strength to believe in a whole one. + +The deep-veined hands fingered many bank-notes one after the other, +laying them down flat again, while Fred leaned back in his chair, +scorning to look eager. He held himself to be a gentleman at heart, and +did not like courting an old fellow for his money. At last, Mr. +Featherstone eyed him again over his spectacles and presented him with +a little sheaf of notes: Fred could see distinctly that there were but +five, as the less significant edges gaped towards him. But then, each +might mean fifty pounds. He took them, saying + +I am very much obliged to you, sir, and was going to roll them up +without seeming to think of their value. But this did not suit Mr. +Featherstone, who was eying him intently. + +Come, dont you think it worth your while to count em? You take money +like a lord; I suppose you lose it like one. + +I thought I was not to look a gift-horse in the mouth, sir. But I +shall be very happy to count them. + +Fred was not so happy, however, after he had counted them. For they +actually presented the absurdity of being less than his hopefulness had +decided that they must be. What can the fitness of things mean, if not +their fitness to a mans expectations? Failing this, absurdity and +atheism gape behind him. The collapse for Fred was severe when he found +that he held no more than five twenties, and his share in the higher +education of this country did not seem to help him. Nevertheless he +said, with rapid changes in his fair complexion + +It is very handsome of you, sir. + +I should think it is, said Mr. Featherstone, locking his box and +replacing it, then taking off his spectacles deliberately, and at +length, as if his inward meditation had more deeply convinced him, +repeating, I should think it handsome. + +I assure you, sir, I am very grateful, said Fred, who had had time to +recover his cheerful air. + +So you ought to be. You want to cut a figure in the world, and I +reckon Peter Featherstone is the only one youve got to trust to. Here +the old mans eyes gleamed with a curiously mingled satisfaction in the +consciousness that this smart young fellow relied upon him, and that +the smart young fellow was rather a fool for doing so. + +Yes, indeed: I was not born to very splendid chances. Few men have +been more cramped than I have been, said Fred, with some sense of +surprise at his own virtue, considering how hardly he was dealt with. +It really seems a little too bad to have to ride a broken-winded +hunter, and see men, who, are not half such good judges as yourself, +able to throw away any amount of money on buying bad bargains. + +Well, you can buy yourself a fine hunter now. Eighty pound is enough +for that, I reckonand youll have twenty pound over to get yourself +out of any little scrape, said Mr. Featherstone, chuckling slightly. + +You are very good, sir, said Fred, with a fine sense of contrast +between the words and his feeling. + +Ay, rather a better uncle than your fine uncle Bulstrode. You wont +get much out of his spekilations, I think. Hes got a pretty strong +string round your fathers leg, by what I hear, eh? + +My father never tells me anything about his affairs, sir. + +Well, he shows some sense there. But other people find em out without +his telling. _Hell_ never have much to leave you: hell most-like die +without a willhes the sort of man to do itlet em make him mayor of +Middlemarch as much as they like. But you wont get much by his dying +without a will, though you _are_ the eldest son. + +Fred thought that Mr. Featherstone had never been so disagreeable +before. True, he had never before given him quite so much money at +once. + +Shall I destroy this letter of Mr. Bulstrodes, sir? said Fred, +rising with the letter as if he would put it in the fire. + +Ay, ay, I dont want it. Its worth no money to me. + +Fred carried the letter to the fire, and thrust the poker through it +with much zest. He longed to get out of the room, but he was a little +ashamed before his inner self, as well as before his uncle, to run away +immediately after pocketing the money. Presently, the farm-bailiff came +up to give his master a report, and Fred, to his unspeakable relief, +was dismissed with the injunction to come again soon. + +He had longed not only to be set free from his uncle, but also to find +Mary Garth. She was now in her usual place by the fire, with sewing in +her hands and a book open on the little table by her side. Her eyelids +had lost some of their redness now, and she had her usual air of +self-command. + +Am I wanted up-stairs? she said, half rising as Fred entered. + +No; I am only dismissed, because Simmons is gone up. + +Mary sat down again, and resumed her work. She was certainly treating +him with more indifference than usual: she did not know how +affectionately indignant he had felt on her behalf up-stairs. + +May I stay here a little, Mary, or shall I bore you? + +Pray sit down, said Mary; you will not be so heavy a bore as Mr. +John Waule, who was here yesterday, and he sat down without asking my +leave. + +Poor fellow! I think he is in love with you. + +I am not aware of it. And to me it is one of the most odious things in +a girls life, that there must always be some supposition of falling in +love coming between her and any man who is kind to her, and to whom she +is grateful. I should have thought that I, at least, might have been +safe from all that. I have no ground for the nonsensical vanity of +fancying everybody who comes near me is in love with me. + +Mary did not mean to betray any feeling, but in spite of herself she +ended in a tremulous tone of vexation. + +Confound John Waule! I did not mean to make you angry. I didnt know +you had any reason for being grateful to me. I forgot what a great +service you think it if any one snuffs a candle for you. Fred also had +his pride, and was not going to show that he knew what had called forth +this outburst of Marys. + +Oh, I am not angry, except with the ways of the world. I do like to be +spoken to as if I had common-sense. I really often feel as if I could +understand a little more than I ever hear even from young gentlemen who +have been to college. Mary had recovered, and she spoke with a +suppressed rippling under-current of laughter pleasant to hear. + +I dont care how merry you are at my expense this morning, said Fred, +I thought you looked so sad when you came up-stairs. It is a shame you +should stay here to be bullied in that way. + +Oh, I have an easy lifeby comparison. I have tried being a teacher, +and I am not fit for that: my mind is too fond of wandering on its own +way. I think any hardship is better than pretending to do what one is +paid for, and never really doing it. Everything here I can do as well +as any one else could; perhaps better than someRosy, for example. +Though she is just the sort of beautiful creature that is imprisoned +with ogres in fairy tales. + +_Rosy!_ cried Fred, in a tone of profound brotherly scepticism. + +Come, Fred! said Mary, emphatically; you have no right to be so +critical. + +Do you mean anything particularjust now? + +No, I mean something generalalways. + +Oh, that I am idle and extravagant. Well, I am not fit to be a poor +man. I should not have made a bad fellow if I had been rich. + +You would have done your duty in that state of life to which it has +not pleased God to call you, said Mary, laughing. + +Well, I couldnt do my duty as a clergyman, any more than you could do +yours as a governess. You ought to have a little fellow-feeling there, +Mary. + +I never said you ought to be a clergyman. There are other sorts of +work. It seems to me very miserable not to resolve on some course and +act accordingly. + +So I could, if Fred broke off, and stood up, leaning against the +mantel-piece. + +If you were sure you should not have a fortune? + +I did not say that. You want to quarrel with me. It is too bad of you +to be guided by what other people say about me. + +How can I want to quarrel with you? I should be quarrelling with all +my new books, said Mary, lifting the volume on the table. However +naughty you may be to other people, you are good to me. + +Because I like you better than any one else. But I know you despise +me. + +Yes, I doa little, said Mary, nodding, with a smile. + +You would admire a stupendous fellow, who would have wise opinions +about everything. + +Yes, I should. Mary was sewing swiftly, and seemed provokingly +mistress of the situation. When a conversation has taken a wrong turn +for us, we only get farther and farther into the swamp of awkwardness. +This was what Fred Vincy felt. + +I suppose a woman is never in love with any one she has always +knownever since she can remember; as a man often is. It is always some +new fellow who strikes a girl. + +Let me see, said Mary, the corners of her mouth curling archly; I +must go back on my experience. There is Julietshe seems an example of +what you say. But then Ophelia had probably known Hamlet a long while; +and Brenda Troilshe had known Mordaunt Merton ever since they were +children; but then he seems to have been an estimable young man; and +Minna was still more deeply in love with Cleveland, who was a stranger. +Waverley was new to Flora MacIvor; but then she did not fall in love +with him. And there are Olivia and Sophia Primrose, and Corinnethey +may be said to have fallen in love with new men. Altogether, my +experience is rather mixed. + +Mary looked up with some roguishness at Fred, and that look of hers was +very dear to him, though the eyes were nothing more than clear windows +where observation sat laughingly. He was certainly an affectionate +fellow, and as he had grown from boy to man, he had grown in love with +his old playmate, notwithstanding that share in the higher education of +the country which had exalted his views of rank and income. + +When a man is not loved, it is no use for him to say that he could be +a better fellowcould do anythingI mean, if he were sure of being +loved in return. + +Not of the least use in the world for him to say he _could_ be better. +Might, could, wouldthey are contemptible auxiliaries. + +I dont see how a man is to be good for much unless he has some one +woman to love him dearly. + +I think the goodness should come before he expects that. + +You know better, Mary. Women dont love men for their goodness. + +Perhaps not. But if they love them, they never think them bad. + +It is hardly fair to say I am bad. + +I said nothing at all about you. + +I never shall be good for anything, Mary, if you will not say that you +love meif you will not promise to marry meI mean, when I am able to +marry. + +If I did love you, I would not marry you: I would certainly not +promise ever to marry you. + +I think that is quite wicked, Mary. If you love me, you ought to +promise to marry me. + +On the contrary, I think it would be wicked in me to marry you even if +I did love you. + +You mean, just as I am, without any means of maintaining a wife. Of +course: I am but three-and-twenty. + +In that last point you will alter. But I am not so sure of any other +alteration. My father says an idle man ought not to exist, much less, +be married. + +Then I am to blow my brains out? + +No; on the whole I should think you would do better to pass your +examination. I have heard Mr. Farebrother say it is disgracefully +easy. + +That is all very fine. Anything is easy to him. Not that cleverness +has anything to do with it. I am ten times cleverer than many men who +pass. + +Dear me! said Mary, unable to repress her sarcasm; that accounts for +the curates like Mr. Crowse. Divide your cleverness by ten, and the +quotientdear me!is able to take a degree. But that only shows you are +ten times more idle than the others. + +Well, if I did pass, you would not want me to go into the Church? + +That is not the questionwhat I want you to do. You have a conscience +of your own, I suppose. There! there is Mr. Lydgate. I must go and tell +my uncle. + +Mary, said Fred, seizing her hand as she rose; if you will not give +me some encouragement, I shall get worse instead of better. + +I will not give you any encouragement, said Mary, reddening. Your +friends would dislike it, and so would mine. My father would think it a +disgrace to me if I accepted a man who got into debt, and would not +work! + +Fred was stung, and released her hand. She walked to the door, but +there she turned and said: Fred, you have always been so good, so +generous to me. I am not ungrateful. But never speak to me in that way +again. + +Very well, said Fred, sulkily, taking up his hat and whip. His +complexion showed patches of pale pink and dead white. Like many a +plucked idle young gentleman, he was thoroughly in love, and with a +plain girl, who had no money! But having Mr. Featherstones land in the +background, and a persuasion that, let Mary say what she would, she +really did care for him, Fred was not utterly in despair. + +When he got home, he gave four of the twenties to his mother, asking +her to keep them for him. I dont want to spend that money, mother. I +want it to pay a debt with. So keep it safe away from my fingers. + +Bless you, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy. She doted on her eldest son and +her youngest girl (a child of six), whom others thought her two +naughtiest children. The mothers eyes are not always deceived in their +partiality: she at least can best judge who is the tender, +filial-hearted child. And Fred was certainly very fond of his mother. +Perhaps it was his fondness for another person also that made him +particularly anxious to take some security against his own liability to +spend the hundred pounds. For the creditor to whom he owed a hundred +and sixty held a firmer security in the shape of a bill signed by +Marys father. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Black eyes you have left, you say, + Blue eyes fail to draw you; +Yet you seem more rapt to-day, + Than of old we saw you. + +Oh, I track the fairest fair + Through new haunts of pleasure; +Footprints here and echoes there + Guide me to my treasure: + +Lo! she turnsimmortal youth + Wrought to mortal stature, +Fresh as starlights aged truth + Many-namd Nature! + + +A great historian, as he insisted on calling himself, who had the +happiness to be dead a hundred and twenty years ago, and so to take his +place among the colossi whose huge legs our living pettiness is +observed to walk under, glories in his copious remarks and digressions +as the least imitable part of his work, and especially in those initial +chapters to the successive books of his history, where he seems to +bring his armchair to the proscenium and chat with us in all the lusty +ease of his fine English. But Fielding lived when the days were longer +(for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer +afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter +evenings. We belated historians must not linger after his example; and +if we did so, it is probable that our chat would be thin and eager, as +if delivered from a campstool in a parrot-house. I at least have so +much to do in unraveling certain human lots, and seeing how they were +woven and interwoven, that all the light I can command must be +concentrated on this particular web, and not dispersed over that +tempting range of relevancies called the universe. + +At present I have to make the new settler Lydgate better known to any +one interested in him than he could possibly be even to those who had +seen the most of him since his arrival in Middlemarch. For surely all +must admit that a man may be puffed and belauded, envied, ridiculed, +counted upon as a tool and fallen in love with, or at least selected as +a future husband, and yet remain virtually unknownknown merely as a +cluster of signs for his neighbors false suppositions. There was a +general impression, however, that Lydgate was not altogether a common +country doctor, and in Middlemarch at that time such an impression was +significant of great things being expected from him. For everybodys +family doctor was remarkably clever, and was understood to have +immeasurable skill in the management and training of the most skittish +or vicious diseases. The evidence of his cleverness was of the higher +intuitive order, lying in his lady-patients immovable conviction, and +was unassailable by any objection except that their intuitions were +opposed by others equally strong; each lady who saw medical truth in +Wrench and the strengthening treatment regarding Toller and the +lowering system as medical perdition. For the heroic times of copious +bleeding and blistering had not yet departed, still less the times of +thorough-going theory, when disease in general was called by some bad +name, and treated accordingly without shilly-shallyas if, for example, +it were to be called insurrection, which must not be fired on with +blank-cartridge, but have its blood drawn at once. The strengtheners +and the lowerers were all clever men in somebodys opinion, which is +really as much as can be said for any living talents. Nobodys +imagination had gone so far as to conjecture that Mr. Lydgate could +know as much as Dr. Sprague and Dr. Minchin, the two physicians, who +alone could offer any hope when danger was extreme, and when the +smallest hope was worth a guinea. Still, I repeat, there was a general +impression that Lydgate was something rather more uncommon than any +general practitioner in Middlemarch. And this was true. He was but +seven-and-twenty, an age at which many men are not quite commonat +which they are hopeful of achievement, resolute in avoidance, thinking +that Mammon shall never put a bit in their mouths and get astride their +backs, but rather that Mammon, if they have anything to do with him, +shall draw their chariot. + +He had been left an orphan when he was fresh from a public school. His +father, a military man, had made but little provision for three +children, and when the boy Tertius asked to have a medical education, +it seemed easier to his guardians to grant his request by apprenticing +him to a country practitioner than to make any objections on the score +of family dignity. He was one of the rarer lads who early get a decided +bent and make up their minds that there is something particular in life +which they would like to do for its own sake, and not because their +fathers did it. Most of us who turn to any subject with love remember +some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down +an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, +or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the +first traceable beginning of our love. Something of that sort happened +to Lydgate. He was a quick fellow, and when hot from play, would toss +himself in a corner, and in five minutes be deep in any sort of book +that he could lay his hands on: if it were Rasselas or Gulliver, so +much the better, but Baileys Dictionary would do, or the Bible with +the Apocrypha in it. Something he must read, when he was not riding the +pony, or running and hunting, or listening to the talk of men. All this +was true of him at ten years of age; he had then read through Chrysal, +or the Adventures of a Guinea, which was neither milk for babes, nor +any chalky mixture meant to pass for milk, and it had already occurred +to him that books were stuff, and that life was stupid. His school +studies had not much modified that opinion, for though he did his +classics and mathematics, he was not pre-eminent in them. It was said +of him, that Lydgate could do anything he liked, but he had certainly +not yet liked to do anything remarkable. He was a vigorous animal with +a ready understanding, but no spark had yet kindled in him an +intellectual passion; knowledge seemed to him a very superficial +affair, easily mastered: judging from the conversation of his elders, +he had apparently got already more than was necessary for mature life. +Probably this was not an exceptional result of expensive teaching at +that period of short-waisted coats, and other fashions which have not +yet recurred. But, one vacation, a wet day sent him to the small home +library to hunt once more for a book which might have some freshness +for him: in vain! unless, indeed, he took down a dusty row of volumes +with gray-paper backs and dingy labelsthe volumes of an old +Cyclopaedia which he had never disturbed. It would at least be a +novelty to disturb them. They were on the highest shelf, and he stood +on a chair to get them down. But he opened the volume which he first +took from the shelf: somehow, one is apt to read in a makeshift +attitude, just where it might seem inconvenient to do so. The page he +opened on was under the head of Anatomy, and the first passage that +drew his eyes was on the valves of the heart. He was not much +acquainted with valves of any sort, but he knew that valvae were +folding-doors, and through this crevice came a sudden light startling +him with his first vivid notion of finely adjusted mechanism in the +human frame. A liberal education had of course left him free to read +the indecent passages in the school classics, but beyond a general +sense of secrecy and obscenity in connection with his internal +structure, had left his imagination quite unbiassed, so that for +anything he knew his brains lay in small bags at his temples, and he +had no more thought of representing to himself how his blood circulated +than how paper served instead of gold. But the moment of vocation had +come, and before he got down from his chair, the world was made new to +him by a presentiment of endless processes filling the vast spaces +planked out of his sight by that wordy ignorance which he had supposed +to be knowledge. From that hour Lydgate felt the growth of an +intellectual passion. + +We are not afraid of telling over and over again how a man comes to +fall in love with a woman and be wedded to her, or else be fatally +parted from her. Is it due to excess of poetry or of stupidity that we +are never weary of describing what King James called a womans makdom +and her fairnesse, never weary of listening to the twanging of the old +Troubadour strings, and are comparatively uninterested in that other +kind of makdom and fairnesse which must be wooed with industrious +thought and patient renunciation of small desires? In the story of this +passion, too, the development varies: sometimes it is the glorious +marriage, sometimes frustration and final parting. And not seldom the +catastrophe is bound up with the other passion, sung by the +Troubadours. For in the multitude of middle-aged men who go about their +vocations in a daily course determined for them much in the same way as +the tie of their cravats, there is always a good number who once meant +to shape their own deeds and alter the world a little. The story of +their coming to be shapen after the average and fit to be packed by the +gross, is hardly ever told even in their consciousness; for perhaps +their ardor in generous unpaid toil cooled as imperceptibly as the +ardor of other youthful loves, till one day their earlier self walked +like a ghost in its old home and made the new furniture ghastly. +Nothing in the world more subtle than the process of their gradual +change! In the beginning they inhaled it unknowingly: you and I may +have sent some of our breath towards infecting them, when we uttered +our conforming falsities or drew our silly conclusions: or perhaps it +came with the vibrations from a womans glance. + +Lydgate did not mean to be one of those failures, and there was the +better hope of him because his scientific interest soon took the form +of a professional enthusiasm: he had a youthful belief in his +bread-winning work, not to be stifled by that initiation in makeshift +called his prentice days; and he carried to his studies in London, +Edinburgh, and Paris, the conviction that the medical profession as it +might be was the finest in the world; presenting the most perfect +interchange between science and art; offering the most direct alliance +between intellectual conquest and the social good. Lydgates nature +demanded this combination: he was an emotional creature, with a +flesh-and-blood sense of fellowship which withstood all the +abstractions of special study. He cared not only for cases, but for +John and Elizabeth, especially Elizabeth. + +There was another attraction in his profession: it wanted reform, and +gave a man an opportunity for some indignant resolve to reject its +venal decorations and other humbug, and to be the possessor of genuine +though undemanded qualifications. He went to study in Paris with the +determination that when he came home again he would settle in some +provincial town as a general practitioner, and resist the irrational +severance between medical and surgical knowledge in the interest of his +own scientific pursuits, as well as of the general advance: he would +keep away from the range of London intrigues, jealousies, and social +truckling, and win celebrity, however slowly, as Jenner had done, by +the independent value of his work. For it must be remembered that this +was a dark period; and in spite of venerable colleges which used great +efforts to secure purity of knowledge by making it scarce, and to +exclude error by a rigid exclusiveness in relation to fees and +appointments, it happened that very ignorant young gentlemen were +promoted in town, and many more got a legal right to practise over +large areas in the country. Also, the high standard held up to the +public mind by the College of Physicians, which gave its peculiar +sanction to the expensive and highly rarefied medical instruction +obtained by graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, did not hinder quackery +from having an excellent time of it; for since professional practice +chiefly consisted in giving a great many drugs, the public inferred +that it might be better off with more drugs still, if they could only +be got cheaply, and hence swallowed large cubic measures of physic +prescribed by unscrupulous ignorance which had taken no degrees. +Considering that statistics had not yet embraced a calculation as to +the number of ignorant or canting doctors which absolutely must exist +in the teeth of all changes, it seemed to Lydgate that a change in the +units was the most direct mode of changing the numbers. He meant to be +a unit who would make a certain amount of difference towards that +spreading change which would one day tell appreciably upon the +averages, and in the mean time have the pleasure of making an +advantageous difference to the viscera of his own patients. But he did +not simply aim at a more genuine kind of practice than was common. He +was ambitious of a wider effect: he was fired with the possibility that +he might work out the proof of an anatomical conception and make a link +in the chain of discovery. + +Does it seem incongruous to you that a Middlemarch surgeon should dream +of himself as a discoverer? Most of us, indeed, know little of the +great originators until they have been lifted up among the +constellations and already rule our fates. But that Herschel, for +example, who broke the barriers of the heavensdid he not once play a +provincial church-organ, and give music-lessons to stumbling pianists? +Each of those Shining Ones had to walk on the earth among neighbors who +perhaps thought much more of his gait and his garments than of anything +which was to give him a title to everlasting fame: each of them had his +little local personal history sprinkled with small temptations and +sordid cares, which made the retarding friction of his course towards +final companionship with the immortals. Lydgate was not blind to the +dangers of such friction, but he had plenty of confidence in his +resolution to avoid it as far as possible: being seven-and-twenty, he +felt himself experienced. And he was not going to have his vanities +provoked by contact with the showy worldly successes of the capital, +but to live among people who could hold no rivalry with that pursuit of +a great idea which was to be a twin object with the assiduous practice +of his profession. There was fascination in the hope that the two +purposes would illuminate each other: the careful observation and +inference which was his daily work, the use of the lens to further his +judgment in special cases, would further his thought as an instrument +of larger inquiry. Was not this the typical pre-eminence of his +profession? He would be a good Middlemarch doctor, and by that very +means keep himself in the track of far-reaching investigation. On one +point he may fairly claim approval at this particular stage of his +career: he did not mean to imitate those philanthropic models who make +a profit out of poisonous pickles to support themselves while they are +exposing adulteration, or hold shares in a gambling-hell that they may +have leisure to represent the cause of public morality. He intended to +begin in his own case some particular reforms which were quite +certainly within his reach, and much less of a problem than the +demonstrating of an anatomical conception. One of these reforms was to +act stoutly on the strength of a recent legal decision, and simply +prescribe, without dispensing drugs or taking percentage from +druggists. This was an innovation for one who had chosen to adopt the +style of general practitioner in a country town, and would be felt as +offensive criticism by his professional brethren. But Lydgate meant to +innovate in his treatment also, and he was wise enough to see that the +best security for his practising honestly according to his belief was +to get rid of systematic temptations to the contrary. + +Perhaps that was a more cheerful time for observers and theorizers than +the present; we are apt to think it the finest era of the world when +America was beginning to be discovered, when a bold sailor, even if he +were wrecked, might alight on a new kingdom; and about 1829 the dark +territories of Pathology were a fine America for a spirited young +adventurer. Lydgate was ambitious above all to contribute towards +enlarging the scientific, rational basis of his profession. The more he +became interested in special questions of disease, such as the nature +of fever or fevers, the more keenly he felt the need for that +fundamental knowledge of structure which just at the beginning of the +century had been illuminated by the brief and glorious career of +Bichat, who died when he was only one-and-thirty, but, like another +Alexander, left a realm large enough for many heirs. That great +Frenchman first carried out the conception that living bodies, +fundamentally considered, are not associations of organs which can be +understood by studying them first apart, and then as it were federally; +but must be regarded as consisting of certain primary webs or tissues, +out of which the various organsbrain, heart, lungs, and so onare +compacted, as the various accommodations of a house are built up in +various proportions of wood, iron, stone, brick, zinc, and the rest, +each material having its peculiar composition and proportions. No man, +one sees, can understand and estimate the entire structure or its +partswhat are its frailties and what its repairs, without knowing the +nature of the materials. And the conception wrought out by Bichat, with +his detailed study of the different tissues, acted necessarily on +medical questions as the turning of gas-light would act on a dim, +oil-lit street, showing new connections and hitherto hidden facts of +structure which must be taken into account in considering the symptoms +of maladies and the action of medicaments. But results which depend on +human conscience and intelligence work slowly, and now at the end of +1829, most medical practice was still strutting or shambling along the +old paths, and there was still scientific work to be done which might +have seemed to be a direct sequence of Bichats. This great seer did +not go beyond the consideration of the tissues as ultimate facts in the +living organism, marking the limit of anatomical analysis; but it was +open to another mind to say, have not these structures some common +basis from which they have all started, as your sarsnet, gauze, net, +satin, and velvet from the raw cocoon? Here would be another light, as +of oxy-hydrogen, showing the very grain of things, and revising all +former explanations. Of this sequence to Bichats work, already +vibrating along many currents of the European mind, Lydgate was +enamoured; he longed to demonstrate the more intimate relations of +living structure, and help to define mens thought more accurately +after the true order. The work had not yet been done, but only prepared +for those who knew how to use the preparation. What was the primitive +tissue? In that way Lydgate put the questionnot quite in the way +required by the awaiting answer; but such missing of the right word +befalls many seekers. And he counted on quiet intervals to be +watchfully seized, for taking up the threads of investigationon many +hints to be won from diligent application, not only of the scalpel, but +of the microscope, which research had begun to use again with new +enthusiasm of reliance. Such was Lydgates plan of his future: to do +good small work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world. + +He was certainly a happy fellow at this time: to be seven-and-twenty, +without any fixed vices, with a generous resolution that his action +should be beneficent, and with ideas in his brain that made life +interesting quite apart from the cultus of horseflesh and other mystic +rites of costly observance, which the eight hundred pounds left him +after buying his practice would certainly not have gone far in paying +for. He was at a starting-point which makes many a mans career a fine +subject for betting, if there were any gentlemen given to that +amusement who could appreciate the complicated probabilities of an +arduous purpose, with all the possible thwartings and furtherings of +circumstance, all the niceties of inward balance, by which a man swims +and makes his point or else is carried headlong. The risk would remain +even with close knowledge of Lydgates character; for character too is +a process and an unfolding. The man was still in the making, as much as +the Middlemarch doctor and immortal discoverer, and there were both +virtues and faults capable of shrinking or expanding. The faults will +not, I hope, be a reason for the withdrawal of your interest in him. +Among our valued friends is there not some one or other who is a little +too self-confident and disdainful; whose distinguished mind is a little +spotted with commonness; who is a little pinched here and protuberant +there with native prejudices; or whose better energies are liable to +lapse down the wrong channel under the influence of transient +solicitations? All these things might be alleged against Lydgate, but +then, they are the periphrases of a polite preacher, who talks of Adam, +and would not like to mention anything painful to the pew-renters. The +particular faults from which these delicate generalities are distilled +have distinguishable physiognomies, diction, accent, and grimaces; +filling up parts in very various dramas. Our vanities differ as our +noses do: all conceit is not the same conceit, but varies in +correspondence with the minutiae of mental make in which one of us +differs from another. Lydgates conceit was of the arrogant sort, never +simpering, never impertinent, but massive in its claims and +benevolently contemptuous. He would do a great deal for noodles, being +sorry for them, and feeling quite sure that they could have no power +over him: he had thought of joining the Saint Simonians when he was in +Paris, in order to turn them against some of their own doctrines. All +his faults were marked by kindred traits, and were those of a man who +had a fine baritone, whose clothes hung well upon him, and who even in +his ordinary gestures had an air of inbred distinction. Where then lay +the spots of commonness? says a young lady enamoured of that careless +grace. How could there be any commonness in a man so well-bred, so +ambitious of social distinction, so generous and unusual in his views +of social duty? As easily as there may be stupidity in a man of genius +if you take him unawares on the wrong subject, or as many a man who has +the best will to advance the social millennium might be ill-inspired in +imagining its lighter pleasures; unable to go beyond Offenbachs music, +or the brilliant punning in the last burlesque. Lydgates spots of +commonness lay in the complexion of his prejudices, which, in spite of +noble intention and sympathy, were half of them such as are found in +ordinary men of the world: that distinction of mind which belonged to +his intellectual ardor, did not penetrate his feeling and judgment +about furniture, or women, or the desirability of its being known +(without his telling) that he was better born than other country +surgeons. He did not mean to think of furniture at present; but +whenever he did so it was to be feared that neither biology nor schemes +of reform would lift him above the vulgarity of feeling that there +would be an incompatibility in his furniture not being of the best. + +As to women, he had once already been drawn headlong by impetuous +folly, which he meant to be final, since marriage at some distant +period would of course not be impetuous. For those who want to be +acquainted with Lydgate it will be good to know what was that case of +impetuous folly, for it may stand as an example of the fitful swerving +of passion to which he was prone, together with the chivalrous kindness +which helped to make him morally lovable. The story can be told without +many words. It happened when he was studying in Paris, and just at the +time when, over and above his other work, he was occupied with some +galvanic experiments. One evening, tired with his experimenting, and +not being able to elicit the facts he needed, he left his frogs and +rabbits to some repose under their trying and mysterious dispensation +of unexplained shocks, and went to finish his evening at the theatre of +the Porte Saint Martin, where there was a melodrama which he had +already seen several times; attracted, not by the ingenious work of the +collaborating authors, but by an actress whose part it was to stab her +lover, mistaking him for the evil-designing duke of the piece. Lydgate +was in love with this actress, as a man is in love with a woman whom he +never expects to speak to. She was a Provencale, with dark eyes, a +Greek profile, and rounded majestic form, having that sort of beauty +which carries a sweet matronliness even in youth, and her voice was a +soft cooing. She had but lately come to Paris, and bore a virtuous +reputation, her husband acting with her as the unfortunate lover. It +was her acting which was no better than it should be, but the public +was satisfied. Lydgates only relaxation now was to go and look at this +woman, just as he might have thrown himself under the breath of the +sweet south on a bank of violets for a while, without prejudice to his +galvanism, to which he would presently return. But this evening the old +drama had a new catastrophe. At the moment when the heroine was to act +the stabbing of her lover, and he was to fall gracefully, the wife +veritably stabbed her husband, who fell as death willed. A wild shriek +pierced the house, and the Provencale fell swooning: a shriek and a +swoon were demanded by the play, but the swooning too was real this +time. Lydgate leaped and climbed, he hardly knew how, on to the stage, +and was active in help, making the acquaintance of his heroine by +finding a contusion on her head and lifting her gently in his arms. +Paris rang with the story of this death:was it a murder? Some of the +actresss warmest admirers were inclined to believe in her guilt, and +liked her the better for it (such was the taste of those times); but +Lydgate was not one of these. He vehemently contended for her +innocence, and the remote impersonal passion for her beauty which he +had felt before, had passed now into personal devotion, and tender +thought of her lot. The notion of murder was absurd: no motive was +discoverable, the young couple being understood to dote on each other; +and it was not unprecedented that an accidental slip of the foot should +have brought these grave consequences. The legal investigation ended in +Madame Laures release. Lydgate by this time had had many interviews +with her, and found her more and more adorable. She talked little; but +that was an additional charm. She was melancholy, and seemed grateful; +her presence was enough, like that of the evening light. Lydgate was +madly anxious about her affection, and jealous lest any other man than +himself should win it and ask her to marry him. But instead of +reopening her engagement at the Porte Saint Martin, where she would +have been all the more popular for the fatal episode, she left Paris +without warning, forsaking her little court of admirers. Perhaps no one +carried inquiry far except Lydgate, who felt that all science had come +to a stand-still while he imagined the unhappy Laure, stricken by +ever-wandering sorrow, herself wandering, and finding no faithful +comforter. Hidden actresses, however, are not so difficult to find as +some other hidden facts, and it was not long before Lydgate gathered +indications that Laure had taken the route to Lyons. He found her at +last acting with great success at Avignon under the same name, looking +more majestic than ever as a forsaken wife carrying her child in her +arms. He spoke to her after the play, was received with the usual +quietude which seemed to him beautiful as clear depths of water, and +obtained leave to visit her the next day; when he was bent on telling +her that he adored her, and on asking her to marry him. He knew that +this was like the sudden impulse of a madmanincongruous even with his +habitual foibles. No matter! It was the one thing which he was resolved +to do. He had two selves within him apparently, and they must learn to +accommodate each other and bear reciprocal impediments. Strange, that +some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, +and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our +persistent self pauses and awaits us. + +To have approached Laure with any suit that was not reverentially +tender would have been simply a contradiction of his whole feeling +towards her. + +You have come all the way from Paris to find me? she said to him the +next day, sitting before him with folded arms, and looking at him with +eyes that seemed to wonder as an untamed ruminating animal wonders. +Are all Englishmen like that? + +I came because I could not live without trying to see you. You are +lonely; I love you; I want you to consent to be my wife; I will wait, +but I want you to promise that you will marry meno one else. + +Laure looked at him in silence with a melancholy radiance from under +her grand eyelids, until he was full of rapturous certainty, and knelt +close to her knees. + +I will tell you something, she said, in her cooing way, keeping her +arms folded. My foot really slipped. + +I know, I know, said Lydgate, deprecatingly. It was a fatal +accidenta dreadful stroke of calamity that bound me to you the more. + +Again Laure paused a little and then said, slowly, _I meant to do +it._ + +Lydgate, strong man as he was, turned pale and trembled: moments seemed +to pass before he rose and stood at a distance from her. + +There was a secret, then, he said at last, even vehemently. He was +brutal to you: you hated him. + +No! he wearied me; he was too fond: he would live in Paris, and not in +my country; that was not agreeable to me. + +Great God! said Lydgate, in a groan of horror. And you planned to +murder him? + +I did not plan: it came to me in the play_I meant to do it._ + +Lydgate stood mute, and unconsciously pressed his hat on while he +looked at her. He saw this womanthe first to whom he had given his +young adorationamid the throng of stupid criminals. + +You are a good young man, she said. But I do not like husbands. I +will never have another. + +Three days afterwards Lydgate was at his galvanism again in his Paris +chambers, believing that illusions were at an end for him. He was saved +from hardening effects by the abundant kindness of his heart and his +belief that human life might be made better. But he had more reason +than ever for trusting his judgment, now that it was so experienced; +and henceforth he would take a strictly scientific view of woman, +entertaining no expectations but such as were justified beforehand. + +No one in Middlemarch was likely to have such a notion of Lydgates +past as has here been faintly shadowed, and indeed the respectable +townsfolk there were not more given than mortals generally to any eager +attempt at exactness in the representation to themselves of what did +not come under their own senses. Not only young virgins of that town, +but gray-bearded men also, were often in haste to conjecture how a new +acquaintance might be wrought into their purposes, contented with very +vague knowledge as to the way in which life had been shaping him for +that instrumentality. Middlemarch, in fact, counted on swallowing +Lydgate and assimilating him very comfortably. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +All that in woman is adored + In thy fair self I find +For the whole sex can but afford + The handsome and the kind. +SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. + + +The question whether Mr. Tyke should be appointed as salaried chaplain +to the hospital was an exciting topic to the Middlemarchers; and +Lydgate heard it discussed in a way that threw much light on the power +exercised in the town by Mr. Bulstrode. The banker was evidently a +ruler, but there was an opposition party, and even among his supporters +there were some who allowed it to be seen that their support was a +compromise, and who frankly stated their impression that the general +scheme of things, and especially the casualties of trade, required you +to hold a candle to the devil. + +Mr. Bulstrodes power was not due simply to his being a country banker, +who knew the financial secrets of most traders in the town and could +touch the springs of their credit; it was fortified by a beneficence +that was at once ready and severeready to confer obligations, and +severe in watching the result. He had gathered, as an industrious man +always at his post, a chief share in administering the town charities, +and his private charities were both minute and abundant. He would take +a great deal of pains about apprenticing Tegg the shoemakers son, and +he would watch over Teggs church-going; he would defend Mrs. Strype +the washerwoman against Stubbss unjust exaction on the score of her +drying-ground, and he would himself scrutinize a calumny against Mrs. +Strype. His private minor loans were numerous, but he would inquire +strictly into the circumstances both before and after. In this way a +man gathers a domain in his neighbors hope and fear as well as +gratitude; and power, when once it has got into that subtle region, +propagates itself, spreading out of all proportion to its external +means. It was a principle with Mr. Bulstrode to gain as much power as +possible, that he might use it for the glory of God. He went through a +great deal of spiritual conflict and inward argument in order to adjust +his motives, and make clear to himself what Gods glory required. But, +as we have seen, his motives were not always rightly appreciated. There +were many crass minds in Middlemarch whose reflective scales could only +weigh things in the lump; and they had a strong suspicion that since +Mr. Bulstrode could not enjoy life in their fashion, eating and +drinking so little as he did, and worreting himself about everything, +he must have a sort of vampires feast in the sense of mastery. + +The subject of the chaplaincy came up at Mr. Vincys table when Lydgate +was dining there, and the family connection with Mr. Bulstrode did not, +he observed, prevent some freedom of remark even on the part of the +host himself, though his reasons against the proposed arrangement +turned entirely on his objection to Mr. Tykes sermons, which were all +doctrine, and his preference for Mr. Farebrother, whose sermons were +free from that taint. Mr. Vincy liked well enough the notion of the +chaplains having a salary, supposing it were given to Farebrother, who +was as good a little fellow as ever breathed, and the best preacher +anywhere, and companionable too. + +What line shall you take, then? said Mr. Chichely, the coroner, a +great coursing comrade of Mr. Vincys. + +Oh, Im precious glad Im not one of the Directors now. I shall vote +for referring the matter to the Directors and the Medical Board +together. I shall roll some of my responsibility on your shoulders, +Doctor, said Mr. Vincy, glancing first at Dr. Sprague, the senior +physician of the town, and then at Lydgate who sat opposite. You +medical gentlemen must consult which sort of black draught you will +prescribe, eh, Mr. Lydgate? + +I know little of either, said Lydgate; but in general, appointments +are apt to be made too much a question of personal liking. The fittest +man for a particular post is not always the best fellow or the most +agreeable. Sometimes, if you wanted to get a reform, your only way +would be to pension off the good fellows whom everybody is fond of, and +put them out of the question. + +Dr. Sprague, who was considered the physician of most weight, though +Dr. Minchin was usually said to have more penetration, divested his +large heavy face of all expression, and looked at his wine-glass while +Lydgate was speaking. Whatever was not problematical and suspected +about this young manfor example, a certain showiness as to foreign +ideas, and a disposition to unsettle what had been settled and +forgotten by his elderswas positively unwelcome to a physician whose +standing had been fixed thirty years before by a treatise on +Meningitis, of which at least one copy marked own was bound in calf. +For my part I have some fellow-feeling with Dr. Sprague: ones +self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of property which it is very +unpleasant to find deprecated. + +Lydgates remark, however, did not meet the sense of the company. Mr. +Vincy said, that if he could have _his_ way, he would not put +disagreeable fellows anywhere. + +Hang your reforms! said Mr. Chichely. Theres no greater humbug in +the world. You never hear of a reform, but it means some trick to put +in new men. I hope you are not one of the Lancets men, Mr. +Lydgatewanting to take the coronership out of the hands of the legal +profession: your words appear to point that way. + +I disapprove of Wakley, interposed Dr. Sprague, no man more: he is +an ill-intentioned fellow, who would sacrifice the respectability of +the profession, which everybody knows depends on the London Colleges, +for the sake of getting some notoriety for himself. There are men who +dont mind about being kicked blue if they can only get talked about. +But Wakley is right sometimes, the Doctor added, judicially. I could +mention one or two points in which Wakley is in the right. + +Oh, well, said Mr. Chichely, I blame no man for standing up in favor +of his own cloth; but, coming to argument, I should like to know how a +coroner is to judge of evidence if he has not had a legal training? + +In my opinion, said Lydgate, legal training only makes a man more +incompetent in questions that require knowledge of another kind. People +talk about evidence as if it could really be weighed in scales by a +blind Justice. No man can judge what is good evidence on any particular +subject, unless he knows that subject well. A lawyer is no better than +an old woman at a post-mortem examination. How is he to know the action +of a poison? You might as well say that scanning verse will teach you +to scan the potato crops. + +You are aware, I suppose, that it is not the coroners business to +conduct the _post-mortem_, but only to take the evidence of the medical +witness? said Mr. Chichely, with some scorn. + +Who is often almost as ignorant as the coroner himself, said Lydgate. +Questions of medical jurisprudence ought not to be left to the chance +of decent knowledge in a medical witness, and the coroner ought not to +be a man who will believe that strychnine will destroy the coats of the +stomach if an ignorant practitioner happens to tell him so. + +Lydgate had really lost sight of the fact that Mr. Chichely was his +Majestys coroner, and ended innocently with the question, Dont you +agree with me, Dr. Sprague? + +To a certain extentwith regard to populous districts, and in the +metropolis, said the Doctor. But I hope it will be long before this +part of the country loses the services of my friend Chichely, even +though it might get the best man in our profession to succeed him. I am +sure Vincy will agree with me. + +Yes, yes, give me a coroner who is a good coursing man, said Mr. +Vincy, jovially. And in my opinion, youre safest with a lawyer. +Nobody can know everything. Most things are visitation of God. And as +to poisoning, why, what you want to know is the law. Come, shall we +join the ladies? + +Lydgates private opinion was that Mr. Chichely might be the very +coroner without bias as to the coats of the stomach, but he had not +meant to be personal. This was one of the difficulties of moving in +good Middlemarch society: it was dangerous to insist on knowledge as a +qualification for any salaried office. Fred Vincy had called Lydgate a +prig, and now Mr. Chichely was inclined to call him prick-eared; +especially when, in the drawing-room, he seemed to be making himself +eminently agreeable to Rosamond, whom he had easily monopolized in a +_tte--tte_, since Mrs. Vincy herself sat at the tea-table. She +resigned no domestic function to her daughter; and the matrons +blooming good-natured face, with the two volatile pink strings floating +from her fine throat, and her cheery manners to husband and children, +was certainly among the great attractions of the Vincy +houseattractions which made it all the easier to fall in love with the +daughter. The tinge of unpretentious, inoffensive vulgarity in Mrs. +Vincy gave more effect to Rosamonds refinement, which was beyond what +Lydgate had expected. + +Certainly, small feet and perfectly turned shoulders aid the impression +of refined manners, and the right thing said seems quite astonishingly +right when it is accompanied with exquisite curves of lip and eyelid. +And Rosamond could say the right thing; for she was clever with that +sort of cleverness which catches every tone except the humorous. +Happily she never attempted to joke, and this perhaps was the most +decisive mark of her cleverness. + +She and Lydgate readily got into conversation. He regretted that he had +not heard her sing the other day at Stone Court. The only pleasure he +allowed himself during the latter part of his stay in Paris was to go +and hear music. + +You have studied music, probably? said Rosamond. + +No, I know the notes of many birds, and I know many melodies by ear; +but the music that I dont know at all, and have no notion about, +delights meaffects me. How stupid the world is that it does not make +more use of such a pleasure within its reach! + +Yes, and you will find Middlemarch very tuneless. There are hardly any +good musicians. I only know two gentlemen who sing at all well. + +I suppose it is the fashion to sing comic songs in a rhythmic way, +leaving you to fancy the tunevery much as if it were tapped on a +drum? + +Ah, you have heard Mr. Bowyer, said Rosamond, with one of her rare +smiles. But we are speaking very ill of our neighbors. + +Lydgate was almost forgetting that he must carry on the conversation, +in thinking how lovely this creature was, her garment seeming to be +made out of the faintest blue sky, herself so immaculately blond, as if +the petals of some gigantic flower had just opened and disclosed her; +and yet with this infantine blondness showing so much ready, +self-possessed grace. Since he had had the memory of Laure, Lydgate had +lost all taste for large-eyed silence: the divine cow no longer +attracted him, and Rosamond was her very opposite. But he recalled +himself. + +You will let me hear some music to-night, I hope. + +I will let you hear my attempts, if you like, said Rosamond. Papa is +sure to insist on my singing. But I shall tremble before you, who have +heard the best singers in Paris. I have heard very little: I have only +once been to London. But our organist at St. Peters is a good +musician, and I go on studying with him. + +Tell me what you saw in London. + +Very little. (A more naive girl would have said, Oh, everything! +But Rosamond knew better.) A few of the ordinary sights, such as raw +country girls are always taken to. + +Do you call yourself a raw country girl? said Lydgate, looking at her +with an involuntary emphasis of admiration, which made Rosamond blush +with pleasure. But she remained simply serious, turned her long neck a +little, and put up her hand to touch her wondrous hair-plaitsan +habitual gesture with her as pretty as any movements of a kittens paw. +Not that Rosamond was in the least like a kitten: she was a sylph +caught young and educated at Mrs. Lemons. + +I assure you my mind is raw, she said immediately; I pass at +Middlemarch. I am not afraid of talking to our old neighbors. But I am +really afraid of you. + +An accomplished woman almost always knows more than we men, though her +knowledge is of a different sort. I am sure you could teach me a +thousand thingsas an exquisite bird could teach a bear if there were +any common language between them. Happily, there is a common language +between women and men, and so the bears can get taught. + +Ah, there is Fred beginning to strum! I must go and hinder him from +jarring all your nerves, said Rosamond, moving to the other side of +the room, where Fred having opened the piano, at his fathers desire, +that Rosamond might give them some music, was parenthetically +performing Cherry Ripe! with one hand. Able men who have passed their +examinations will do these things sometimes, not less than the plucked +Fred. + +Fred, pray defer your practising till to-morrow; you will make Mr. +Lydgate ill, said Rosamond. He has an ear. + +Fred laughed, and went on with his tune to the end. + +Rosamond turned to Lydgate, smiling gently, and said, You perceive, +the bears will not always be taught. + +Now then, Rosy! said Fred, springing from the stool and twisting it +upward for her, with a hearty expectation of enjoyment. Some good +rousing tunes first. + +Rosamond played admirably. Her master at Mrs. Lemons school (close to +a county town with a memorable history that had its relics in church +and castle) was one of those excellent musicians here and there to be +found in our provinces, worthy to compare with many a noted +Kapellmeister in a country which offers more plentiful conditions of +musical celebrity. Rosamond, with the executants instinct, had seized +his manner of playing, and gave forth his large rendering of noble +music with the precision of an echo. It was almost startling, heard for +the first time. A hidden soul seemed to be flowing forth from +Rosamonds fingers; and so indeed it was, since souls live on in +perpetual echoes, and to all fine expression there goes somewhere an +originating activity, if it be only that of an interpreter. Lydgate was +taken possession of, and began to believe in her as something +exceptional. After all, he thought, one need not be surprised to find +the rare conjunctions of nature under circumstances apparently +unfavorable: come where they may, they always depend on conditions that +are not obvious. He sat looking at her, and did not rise to pay her any +compliments, leaving that to others, now that his admiration was +deepened. + +Her singing was less remarkable, but also well trained, and sweet to +hear as a chime perfectly in tune. It is true she sang Meet me by +moonlight, and Ive been roaming; for mortals must share the +fashions of their time, and none but the ancients can be always +classical. But Rosamond could also sing Black-eyed Susan with effect, +or Haydns canzonets, or Voi, che sapete, or Batti, battishe only +wanted to know what her audience liked. + +Her father looked round at the company, delighting in their admiration. +Her mother sat, like a Niobe before her troubles, with her youngest +little girl on her lap, softly beating the childs hand up and down in +time to the music. And Fred, notwithstanding his general scepticism +about Rosy, listened to her music with perfect allegiance, wishing he +could do the same thing on his flute. It was the pleasantest family +party that Lydgate had seen since he came to Middlemarch. The Vincys +had the readiness to enjoy, the rejection of all anxiety, and the +belief in life as a merry lot, which made a house exceptional in most +county towns at that time, when Evangelicalism had cast a certain +suspicion as of plague-infection over the few amusements which survived +in the provinces. At the Vincys there was always whist, and the +card-tables stood ready now, making some of the company secretly +impatient of the music. Before it ceased Mr. Farebrother came ina +handsome, broad-chested but otherwise small man, about forty, whose +black was very threadbare: the brilliancy was all in his quick gray +eyes. He came like a pleasant change in the light, arresting little +Louisa with fatherly nonsense as she was being led out of the room by +Miss Morgan, greeting everybody with some special word, and seeming to +condense more talk into ten minutes than had been held all through the +evening. He claimed from Lydgate the fulfilment of a promise to come +and see him. I cant let you off, you know, because I have some +beetles to show you. We collectors feel an interest in every new man +till he has seen all we have to show him. + +But soon he swerved to the whist-table, rubbing his hands and saying, +Come now, let us be serious! Mr. Lydgate? not play? Ah! you are too +young and light for this kind of thing. + +Lydgate said to himself that the clergyman whose abilities were so +painful to Mr. Bulstrode, appeared to have found an agreeable resort in +this certainly not erudite household. He could half understand it: the +good-humor, the good looks of elder and younger, and the provision for +passing the time without any labor of intelligence, might make the +house beguiling to people who had no particular use for their odd +hours. + +Everything looked blooming and joyous except Miss Morgan, who was +brown, dull, and resigned, and altogether, as Mrs. Vincy often said, +just the sort of person for a governess. Lydgate did not mean to pay +many such visits himself. They were a wretched waste of the evenings; +and now, when he had talked a little more to Rosamond, he meant to +excuse himself and go. + +You will not like us at Middlemarch, I feel sure, she said, when the +whist-players were settled. We are very stupid, and you have been used +to something quite different. + +I suppose all country towns are pretty much alike, said Lydgate. But +I have noticed that one always believes ones own town to be more +stupid than any other. I have made up my mind to take Middlemarch as it +comes, and shall be much obliged if the town will take me in the same +way. I have certainly found some charms in it which are much greater +than I had expected. + +You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick; every one is pleased +with those, said Rosamond, with simplicity. + +No, I mean something much nearer to me. + +Rosamond rose and reached her netting, and then said, Do you care +about dancing at all? I am not quite sure whether clever men ever +dance. + +I would dance with you if you would allow me. + +Oh! said Rosamond, with a slight deprecatory laugh. I was only going +to say that we sometimes have dancing, and I wanted to know whether you +would feel insulted if you were asked to come. + +Not on the condition I mentioned. + +After this chat Lydgate thought that he was going, but on moving +towards the whist-tables, he got interested in watching Mr. +Farebrothers play, which was masterly, and also his face, which was a +striking mixture of the shrewd and the mild. At ten oclock supper was +brought in (such were the customs of Middlemarch) and there was +punch-drinking; but Mr. Farebrother had only a glass of water. He was +winning, but there seemed to be no reason why the renewal of rubbers +should end, and Lydgate at last took his leave. + +But as it was not eleven oclock, he chose to walk in the brisk air +towards the tower of St. Botolphs, Mr. Farebrothers church, which +stood out dark, square, and massive against the starlight. It was the +oldest church in Middlemarch; the living, however, was but a vicarage +worth barely four hundred a-year. Lydgate had heard that, and he +wondered now whether Mr. Farebrother cared about the money he won at +cards; thinking, He seems a very pleasant fellow, but Bulstrode may +have his good reasons. Many things would be easier to Lydgate if it +should turn out that Mr. Bulstrode was generally justifiable. What is +his religious doctrine to me, if he carries some good notions along +with it? One must use such brains as are to be found. + +These were actually Lydgates first meditations as he walked away from +Mr. Vincys, and on this ground I fear that many ladies will consider +him hardly worthy of their attention. He thought of Rosamond and her +music only in the second place; and though, when her turn came, he +dwelt on the image of her for the rest of his walk, he felt no +agitation, and had no sense that any new current had set into his life. +He could not marry yet; he wished not to marry for several years; and +therefore he was not ready to entertain the notion of being in love +with a girl whom he happened to admire. He did admire Rosamond +exceedingly; but that madness which had once beset him about Laure was +not, he thought, likely to recur in relation to any other woman. +Certainly, if falling in love had been at all in question, it would +have been quite safe with a creature like this Miss Vincy, who had just +the kind of intelligence one would desire in a womanpolished, refined, +docile, lending itself to finish in all the delicacies of life, and +enshrined in a body which expressed this with a force of demonstration +that excluded the need for other evidence. Lydgate felt sure that if +ever he married, his wife would have that feminine radiance, that +distinctive womanhood which must be classed with flowers and music, +that sort of beauty which by its very nature was virtuous, being +moulded only for pure and delicate joys. + +But since he did not mean to marry for the next five yearshis more +pressing business was to look into Louis new book on Fever, which he +was specially interested in, because he had known Louis in Paris, and +had followed many anatomical demonstrations in order to ascertain the +specific differences of typhus and typhoid. He went home and read far +into the smallest hour, bringing a much more testing vision of details +and relations into this pathological study than he had ever thought it +necessary to apply to the complexities of love and marriage, these +being subjects on which he felt himself amply informed by literature, +and that traditional wisdom which is handed down in the genial +conversation of men. Whereas Fever had obscure conditions, and gave him +that delightful labor of the imagination which is not mere +arbitrariness, but the exercise of disciplined powercombining and +constructing with the clearest eye for probabilities and the fullest +obedience to knowledge; and then, in yet more energetic alliance with +impartial Nature, standing aloof to invent tests by which to try its +own work. + +Many men have been praised as vividly imaginative on the strength of +their profuseness in indifferent drawing or cheap narration:reports of +very poor talk going on in distant orbs; or portraits of Lucifer coming +down on his bad errands as a large ugly man with bats wings and spurts +of phosphorescence; or exaggerations of wantonness that seem to reflect +life in a diseased dream. But these kinds of inspiration Lydgate +regarded as rather vulgar and vinous compared with the imagination that +reveals subtle actions inaccessible by any sort of lens, but tracked in +that outer darkness through long pathways of necessary sequence by the +inward light which is the last refinement of Energy, capable of bathing +even the ethereal atoms in its ideally illuminated space. He for his +part had tossed away all cheap inventions where ignorance finds itself +able and at ease: he was enamoured of that arduous invention which is +the very eye of research, provisionally framing its object and +correcting it to more and more exactness of relation; he wanted to +pierce the obscurity of those minute processes which prepare human +misery and joy, those invisible thoroughfares which are the first +lurking-places of anguish, mania, and crime, that delicate poise and +transition which determine the growth of happy or unhappy +consciousness. + +As he threw down his book, stretched his legs towards the embers in the +grate, and clasped his hands at the back of his head, in that agreeable +afterglow of excitement when thought lapses from examination of a +specific object into a suffusive sense of its connections with all the +rest of our existenceseems, as it were, to throw itself on its back +after vigorous swimming and float with the repose of unexhausted +strengthLydgate felt a triumphant delight in his studies, and +something like pity for those less lucky men who were not of his +profession. + +If I had not taken that turn when I was a lad, he thought, I might +have got into some stupid draught-horse work or other, and lived always +in blinkers. I should never have been happy in any profession that did +not call forth the highest intellectual strain, and yet keep me in good +warm contact with my neighbors. There is nothing like the medical +profession for that: one can have the exclusive scientific life that +touches the distance and befriend the old fogies in the parish too. It +is rather harder for a clergyman: Farebrother seems to be an anomaly. + +This last thought brought back the Vincys and all the pictures of the +evening. They floated in his mind agreeably enough, and as he took up +his bed-candle his lips were curled with that incipient smile which is +apt to accompany agreeable recollections. He was an ardent fellow, but +at present his ardor was absorbed in love of his work and in the +ambition of making his life recognized as a factor in the better life +of mankindlike other heroes of science who had nothing but an obscure +country practice to begin with. + +Poor Lydgate! or shall I say, Poor Rosamond! Each lived in a world of +which the other knew nothing. It had not occurred to Lydgate that he +had been a subject of eager meditation to Rosamond, who had neither any +reason for throwing her marriage into distant perspective, nor any +pathological studies to divert her mind from that ruminating habit, +that inward repetition of looks, words, and phrases, which makes a +large part in the lives of most girls. He had not meant to look at her +or speak to her with more than the inevitable amount of admiration and +compliment which a man must give to a beautiful girl; indeed, it seemed +to him that his enjoyment of her music had remained almost silent, for +he feared falling into the rudeness of telling her his great surprise +at her possession of such accomplishment. But Rosamond had registered +every look and word, and estimated them as the opening incidents of a +preconceived romanceincidents which gather value from the foreseen +development and climax. In Rosamonds romance it was not necessary to +imagine much about the inward life of the hero, or of his serious +business in the world: of course, he had a profession and was clever, +as well as sufficiently handsome; but the piquant fact about Lydgate +was his good birth, which distinguished him from all Middlemarch +admirers, and presented marriage as a prospect of rising in rank and +getting a little nearer to that celestial condition on earth in which +she would have nothing to do with vulgar people, and perhaps at last +associate with relatives quite equal to the county people who looked +down on the Middlemarchers. It was part of Rosamonds cleverness to +discern very subtly the faintest aroma of rank, and once when she had +seen the Miss Brookes accompanying their uncle at the county assizes, +and seated among the aristocracy, she had envied them, notwithstanding +their plain dress. + +If you think it incredible that to imagine Lydgate as a man of family +could cause thrills of satisfaction which had anything to do with the +sense that she was in love with him, I will ask you to use your power +of comparison a little more effectively, and consider whether red cloth +and epaulets have never had an influence of that sort. Our passions do +not live apart in locked chambers, but, dressed in their small wardrobe +of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, +feeding out of the common store according to their appetite. + +Rosamond, in fact, was entirely occupied not exactly with Tertius +Lydgate as he was in himself, but with his relation to her; and it was +excusable in a girl who was accustomed to hear that all young men +might, could, would be, or actually were in love with her, to believe +at once that Lydgate could be no exception. His looks and words meant +more to her than other mens, because she cared more for them: she +thought of them diligently, and diligently attended to that perfection +of appearance, behavior, sentiments, and all other elegancies, which +would find in Lydgate a more adequate admirer than she had yet been +conscious of. + +For Rosamond, though she would never do anything that was disagreeable +to her, was industrious; and now more than ever she was active in +sketching her landscapes and market-carts and portraits of friends, in +practising her music, and in being from morning till night her own +standard of a perfect lady, having always an audience in her own +consciousness, with sometimes the not unwelcome addition of a more +variable external audience in the numerous visitors of the house. She +found time also to read the best novels, and even the second best, and +she knew much poetry by heart. Her favorite poem was Lalla Rookh. + +The best girl in the world! He will be a happy fellow who gets her! +was the sentiment of the elderly gentlemen who visited the Vincys; and +the rejected young men thought of trying again, as is the fashion in +country towns where the horizon is not thick with coming rivals. But +Mrs. Plymdale thought that Rosamond had been educated to a ridiculous +pitch, for what was the use of accomplishments which would be all laid +aside as soon as she was married? While her aunt Bulstrode, who had a +sisterly faithfulness towards her brothers family, had two sincere +wishes for Rosamondthat she might show a more serious turn of mind, +and that she might meet with a husband whose wealth corresponded to her +habits. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The clerkly person smiled and said +Promise was a pretty maid, +But being poor she died unwed. + + +The Rev. Camden Farebrother, whom Lydgate went to see the next evening, +lived in an old parsonage, built of stone, venerable enough to match +the church which it looked out upon. All the furniture too in the house +was old, but with another grade of agethat of Mr. Farebrothers father +and grandfather. There were painted white chairs, with gilding and +wreaths on them, and some lingering red silk damask with slits in it. +There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and other celebrated +lawyers of the last century; and there were old pier-glasses to reflect +them, as well as the little satin-wood tables and the sofas resembling +a prolongation of uneasy chairs, all standing in relief against the +dark wainscot. This was the physiognomy of the drawing-room into which +Lydgate was shown; and there were three ladies to receive him, who were +also old-fashioned, and of a faded but genuine respectability: Mrs. +Farebrother, the Vicars white-haired mother, befrilled and kerchiefed +with dainty cleanliness, upright, quick-eyed, and still under seventy; +Miss Noble, her sister, a tiny old lady of meeker aspect, with frills +and kerchief decidedly more worn and mended; and Miss Winifred +Farebrother, the Vicars elder sister, well-looking like himself, but +nipped and subdued as single women are apt to be who spend their lives +in uninterrupted subjection to their elders. Lydgate had not expected +to see so quaint a group: knowing simply that Mr. Farebrother was a +bachelor, he had thought of being ushered into a snuggery where the +chief furniture would probably be books and collections of natural +objects. The Vicar himself seemed to wear rather a changed aspect, as +most men do when acquaintances made elsewhere see them for the first +time in their own homes; some indeed showing like an actor of genial +parts disadvantageously cast for the curmudgeon in a new piece. This +was not the case with Mr. Farebrother: he seemed a trifle milder and +more silent, the chief talker being his mother, while he only put in a +good-humored moderating remark here and there. The old lady was +evidently accustomed to tell her company what they ought to think, and +to regard no subject as quite safe without her steering. She was +afforded leisure for this function by having all her little wants +attended to by Miss Winifred. Meanwhile tiny Miss Noble carried on her +arm a small basket, into which she diverted a bit of sugar, which she +had first dropped in her saucer as if by mistake; looking round +furtively afterwards, and reverting to her teacup with a small innocent +noise as of a tiny timid quadruped. Pray think no ill of Miss Noble. +That basket held small savings from her more portable food, destined +for the children of her poor friends among whom she trotted on fine +mornings; fostering and petting all needy creatures being so +spontaneous a delight to her, that she regarded it much as if it had +been a pleasant vice that she was addicted to. Perhaps she was +conscious of being tempted to steal from those who had much that she +might give to those who had nothing, and carried in her conscience the +guilt of that repressed desire. One must be poor to know the luxury of +giving! + +Mrs. Farebrother welcomed the guest with a lively formality and +precision. She presently informed him that they were not often in want +of medical aid in that house. She had brought up her children to wear +flannel and not to over-eat themselves, which last habit she considered +the chief reason why people needed doctors. Lydgate pleaded for those +whose fathers and mothers had over-eaten themselves, but Mrs. +Farebrother held that view of things dangerous: Nature was more just +than that; it would be easy for any felon to say that his ancestors +ought to have been hanged instead of him. If those who had bad fathers +and mothers were bad themselves, they were hanged for that. There was +no need to go back on what you couldnt see. + +My mother is like old George the Third, said the Vicar, she objects +to metaphysics. + +I object to what is wrong, Camden. I say, keep hold of a few plain +truths, and make everything square with them. When I was young, Mr. +Lydgate, there never was any question about right and wrong. We knew +our catechism, and that was enough; we learned our creed and our duty. +Every respectable Church person had the same opinions. But now, if you +speak out of the Prayer-book itself, you are liable to be +contradicted. + +That makes rather a pleasant time of it for those who like to maintain +their own point, said Lydgate. + +But my mother always gives way, said the Vicar, slyly. + +No, no, Camden, you must not lead Mr. Lydgate into a mistake about +_me_. I shall never show that disrespect to my parents, to give up what +they taught me. Any one may see what comes of turning. If you change +once, why not twenty times? + +A man might see good arguments for changing once, and not see them for +changing again, said Lydgate, amused with the decisive old lady. + +Excuse me there. If you go upon arguments, they are never wanting, +when a man has no constancy of mind. My father never changed, and he +preached plain moral sermons without arguments, and was a good manfew +better. When you get me a good man made out of arguments, I will get +you a good dinner with reading you the cookery-book. Thats my opinion, +and I think anybodys stomach will bear me out. + +About the dinner certainly, mother, said Mr. Farebrother. + +It is the same thing, the dinner or the man. I am nearly seventy, Mr. +Lydgate, and I go upon experience. I am not likely to follow new +lights, though there are plenty of them here as elsewhere. I say, they +came in with the mixed stuffs that will neither wash nor wear. It was +not so in my youth: a Churchman was a Churchman, and a clergyman, you +might be pretty sure, was a gentleman, if nothing else. But now he may +be no better than a Dissenter, and want to push aside my son on +pretence of doctrine. But whoever may wish to push him aside, I am +proud to say, Mr. Lydgate, that he will compare with any preacher in +this kingdom, not to speak of this town, which is but a low standard to +go by; at least, to my thinking, for I was born and bred at Exeter. + +A mother is never partial, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. What do +you think Tykes mother says about him? + +Ah, poor creature! what indeed? said Mrs. Farebrother, her sharpness +blunted for the moment by her confidence in maternal judgments. She +says the truth to herself, depend upon it. + +And what is the truth? said Lydgate. I am curious to know. + +Oh, nothing bad at all, said Mr. Farebrother. He is a zealous +fellow: not very learned, and not very wise, I thinkbecause I dont +agree with him. + +Why, Camden! said Miss Winifred, Griffin and his wife told me only +to-day, that Mr. Tyke said they should have no more coals if they came +to hear you preach. + +Mrs. Farebrother laid down her knitting, which she had resumed after +her small allowance of tea and toast, and looked at her son as if to +say You hear that? Miss Noble said, Oh poor things! poor things! in +reference, probably, to the double loss of preaching and coal. But the +Vicar answered quietly + +That is because they are not my parishioners. And I dont think my +sermons are worth a load of coals to them. + +Mr. Lydgate, said Mrs. Farebrother, who could not let this pass, you +dont know my son: he always undervalues himself. I tell him he is +undervaluing the God who made him, and made him a most excellent +preacher. + +That must be a hint for me to take Mr. Lydgate away to my study, +mother, said the Vicar, laughing. I promised to show you my +collection, he added, turning to Lydgate; shall we go? + +All three ladies remonstrated. Mr. Lydgate ought not to be hurried away +without being allowed to accept another cup of tea: Miss Winifred had +abundance of good tea in the pot. Why was Camden in such haste to take +a visitor to his den? There was nothing but pickled vermin, and drawers +full of blue-bottles and moths, with no carpet on the floor. Mr. +Lydgate must excuse it. A game at cribbage would be far better. In +short, it was plain that a vicar might be adored by his womankind as +the king of men and preachers, and yet be held by them to stand in much +need of their direction. Lydgate, with the usual shallowness of a young +bachelor, wondered that Mr. Farebrother had not taught them better. + +My mother is not used to my having visitors who can take any interest +in my hobbies, said the Vicar, as he opened the door of his study, +which was indeed as bare of luxuries for the body as the ladies had +implied, unless a short porcelain pipe and a tobacco-box were to be +excepted. + +Men of your profession dont generally smoke, he said. Lydgate smiled +and shook his head. Nor of mine either, properly, I suppose. You will +hear that pipe alleged against me by Bulstrode and Company. They dont +know how pleased the devil would be if I gave it up. + +I understand. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative. I am +heavier, and should get idle with it. I should rush into idleness, and +stagnate there with all my might. + +And you mean to give it all to your work. I am some ten or twelve +years older than you, and have come to a compromise. I feed a weakness +or two lest they should get clamorous. See, continued the Vicar, +opening several small drawers, I fancy I have made an exhaustive study +of the entomology of this district. I am going on both with the fauna +and flora; but I have at least done my insects well. We are singularly +rich in orthoptera: I dont know whetherAh! you have got hold of that +glass jaryou are looking into that instead of my drawers. You dont +really care about these things? + +Not by the side of this lovely anencephalous monster. I have never had +time to give myself much to natural history. I was early bitten with an +interest in structure, and it is what lies most directly in my +profession. I have no hobby besides. I have the sea to swim in there. + +Ah! you are a happy fellow, said Mr. Farebrother, turning on his heel +and beginning to fill his pipe. You dont know what it is to want +spiritual tobaccobad emendations of old texts, or small items about a +variety of Aphis Brassicae, with the well-known signature of +Philomicron, for the Twaddlers Magazine; or a learned treatise on +the entomology of the Pentateuch, including all the insects not +mentioned, but probably met with by the Israelites in their passage +through the desert; with a monograph on the Ant, as treated by Solomon, +showing the harmony of the Book of Proverbs with the results of modern +research. You dont mind my fumigating you? + +Lydgate was more surprised at the openness of this talk than at its +implied meaningthat the Vicar felt himself not altogether in the right +vocation. The neat fitting-up of drawers and shelves, and the bookcase +filled with expensive illustrated books on Natural History, made him +think again of the winnings at cards and their destination. But he was +beginning to wish that the very best construction of everything that +Mr. Farebrother did should be the true one. The Vicars frankness +seemed not of the repulsive sort that comes from an uneasy +consciousness seeking to forestall the judgment of others, but simply +the relief of a desire to do with as little pretence as possible. +Apparently he was not without a sense that his freedom of speech might +seem premature, for he presently said + +I have not yet told you that I have the advantage of you, Mr. Lydgate, +and know you better than you know me. You remember Trawley who shared +your apartment at Paris for some time? I was a correspondent of his, +and he told me a good deal about you. I was not quite sure when you +first came that you were the same man. I was very glad when I found +that you were. Only I dont forget that you have not had the like +prologue about me. + +Lydgate divined some delicacy of feeling here, but did not half +understand it. By the way, he said, what has become of Trawley? I +have quite lost sight of him. He was hot on the French social systems, +and talked of going to the Backwoods to found a sort of Pythagorean +community. Is he gone? + +Not at all. He is practising at a German bath, and has married a rich +patient. + +Then my notions wear the best, so far, said Lydgate, with a short +scornful laugh. He would have it, the medical profession was an +inevitable system of humbug. I said, the fault was in the menmen who +truckle to lies and folly. Instead of preaching against humbug outside +the walls, it might be better to set up a disinfecting apparatus +within. In shortI am reporting my own conversationyou may be sure I +had all the good sense on my side. + +Your scheme is a good deal more difficult to carry out than the +Pythagorean community, though. You have not only got the old Adam in +yourself against you, but you have got all those descendants of the +original Adam who form the society around you. You see, I have paid +twelve or thirteen years more than you for my knowledge of +difficulties. ButMr. Farebrother broke off a moment, and then added, +you are eying that glass vase again. Do you want to make an exchange? +You shall not have it without a fair barter. + +I have some sea-micefine specimensin spirits. And I will throw in +Robert Browns new thingMicroscopic Observations on the Pollen of +Plantsif you dont happen to have it already. + +Why, seeing how you long for the monster, I might ask a higher price. +Suppose I ask you to look through my drawers and agree with me about +all my new species? The Vicar, while he talked in this way, +alternately moved about with his pipe in his mouth, and returned to +hang rather fondly over his drawers. That would be good discipline, +you know, for a young doctor who has to please his patients in +Middlemarch. You must learn to be bored, remember. However, you shall +have the monster on your own terms. + +Dont you think men overrate the necessity for humoring everybodys +nonsense, till they get despised by the very fools they humor? said +Lydgate, moving to Mr. Farebrothers side, and looking rather absently +at the insects ranged in fine gradation, with names subscribed in +exquisite writing. The shortest way is to make your value felt, so +that people must put up with you whether you flatter them or not. + +With all my heart. But then you must be sure of having the value, and +you must keep yourself independent. Very few men can do that. Either +you slip out of service altogether, and become good for nothing, or you +wear the harness and draw a good deal where your yoke-fellows pull you. +But do look at these delicate orthoptera! + +Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each drawer, the Vicar +laughing at himself, and yet persisting in the exhibition. + +Apropos of what you said about wearing harness, Lydgate began, after +they had sat down, I made up my mind some time ago to do with as +little of it as possible. That was why I determined not to try anything +in London, for a good many years at least. I didnt like what I saw +when I was studying thereso much empty bigwiggism, and obstructive +trickery. In the country, people have less pretension to knowledge, and +are less of companions, but for that reason they affect ones +amour-propre less: one makes less bad blood, and can follow ones own +course more quietly. + +Yeswellyou have got a good start; you are in the right profession, +the work you feel yourself most fit for. Some people miss that, and +repent too late. But you must not be too sure of keeping your +independence. + +You mean of family ties? said Lydgate, conceiving that these might +press rather tightly on Mr. Farebrother. + +Not altogether. Of course they make many things more difficult. But a +good wifea good unworldly womanmay really help a man, and keep him +more independent. Theres a parishioner of minea fine fellow, but who +would hardly have pulled through as he has done without his wife. Do +you know the Garths? I think they were not Peacocks patients. + +No; but there is a Miss Garth at old Featherstones, at Lowick. + +Their daughter: an excellent girl. + +She is very quietI have hardly noticed her. + +She has taken notice of you, though, depend upon it. + +I dont understand, said Lydgate; he could hardly say Of course. + +Oh, she gauges everybody. I prepared her for confirmationshe is a +favorite of mine. + +Mr. Farebrother puffed a few moments in silence, Lydgate not caring to +know more about the Garths. At last the Vicar laid down his pipe, +stretched out his legs, and turned his bright eyes with a smile towards +Lydgate, saying + +But we Middlemarchers are not so tame as you take us to be. We have +our intrigues and our parties. I am a party man, for example, and +Bulstrode is another. If you vote for me you will offend Bulstrode. + +What is there against Bulstrode? said Lydgate, emphatically. + +I did not say there was anything against him except that. If you vote +against him you will make him your enemy. + +I dont know that I need mind about that, said Lydgate, rather +proudly; but he seems to have good ideas about hospitals, and he +spends large sums on useful public objects. He might help me a good +deal in carrying out my ideas. As to his religious notionswhy, as +Voltaire said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if +administered with a certain quantity of arsenic. I look for the man who +will bring the arsenic, and dont mind about his incantations. + +Very good. But then you must not offend your arsenic-man. You will not +offend me, you know, said Mr. Farebrother, quite unaffectedly. I +dont translate my own convenience into other peoples duties. I am +opposed to Bulstrode in many ways. I dont like the set he belongs to: +they are a narrow ignorant set, and do more to make their neighbors +uncomfortable than to make them better. Their system is a sort of +worldly-spiritual cliqueism: they really look on the rest of mankind as +a doomed carcass which is to nourish them for heaven. But, he added, +smilingly, I dont say that Bulstrodes new hospital is a bad thing; +and as to his wanting to oust me from the old onewhy, if he thinks me +a mischievous fellow, he is only returning a compliment. And I am not a +model clergymanonly a decent makeshift. + +Lydgate was not at all sure that the Vicar maligned himself. A model +clergyman, like a model doctor, ought to think his own profession the +finest in the world, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to his +moral pathology and therapeutics. He only said, What reason does +Bulstrode give for superseding you? + +That I dont teach his opinionswhich he calls spiritual religion; and +that I have no time to spare. Both statements are true. But then I +could make time, and I should be glad of the forty pounds. That is the +plain fact of the case. But let us dismiss it. I only wanted to tell +you that if you vote for your arsenic-man, you are not to cut me in +consequence. I cant spare you. You are a sort of circumnavigator come +to settle among us, and will keep up my belief in the antipodes. Now +tell me all about them in Paris. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +Oh, sir, the loftiest hopes on earth +Draw lots with meaner hopes: heroic breasts, +Breathing bad air, run risk of pestilence; +Or, lacking lime-juice when they cross the Line, +May languish with the scurvy. + + +Some weeks passed after this conversation before the question of the +chaplaincy gathered any practical import for Lydgate, and without +telling himself the reason, he deferred the predetermination on which +side he should give his vote. It would really have been a matter of +total indifference to himthat is to say, he would have taken the more +convenient side, and given his vote for the appointment of Tyke without +any hesitationif he had not cared personally for Mr. Farebrother. + +But his liking for the Vicar of St. Botolphs grew with growing +acquaintanceship. That, entering into Lydgates position as a new-comer +who had his own professional objects to secure, Mr. Farebrother should +have taken pains rather to warn off than to obtain his interest, showed +an unusual delicacy and generosity, which Lydgates nature was keenly +alive to. It went along with other points of conduct in Mr. Farebrother +which were exceptionally fine, and made his character resemble those +southern landscapes which seem divided between natural grandeur and +social slovenliness. Very few men could have been as filial and +chivalrous as he was to the mother, aunt, and sister, whose dependence +on him had in many ways shaped his life rather uneasily for himself; +few men who feel the pressure of small needs are so nobly resolute not +to dress up their inevitably self-interested desires in a pretext of +better motives. In these matters he was conscious that his life would +bear the closest scrutiny; and perhaps the consciousness encouraged a +little defiance towards the critical strictness of persons whose +celestial intimacies seemed not to improve their domestic manners, and +whose lofty aims were not needed to account for their actions. Then, +his preaching was ingenious and pithy, like the preaching of the +English Church in its robust age, and his sermons were delivered +without book. People outside his parish went to hear him; and, since to +fill the church was always the most difficult part of a clergymans +function, here was another ground for a careless sense of superiority. +Besides, he was a likable man: sweet-tempered, ready-witted, frank, +without grins of suppressed bitterness or other conversational flavors +which make half of us an affliction to our friends. Lydgate liked him +heartily, and wished for his friendship. + +With this feeling uppermost, he continued to waive the question of the +chaplaincy, and to persuade himself that it was not only no proper +business of his, but likely enough never to vex him with a demand for +his vote. Lydgate, at Mr. Bulstrodes request, was laying down plans +for the internal arrangements of the new hospital, and the two were +often in consultation. The banker was always presupposing that he could +count in general on Lydgate as a coadjutor, but made no special +recurrence to the coming decision between Tyke and Farebrother. When +the General Board of the Infirmary had met, however, and Lydgate had +notice that the question of the chaplaincy was thrown on a council of +the directors and medical men, to meet on the following Friday, he had +a vexed sense that he must make up his mind on this trivial Middlemarch +business. He could not help hearing within him the distinct declaration +that Bulstrode was prime minister, and that the Tyke affair was a +question of office or no office; and he could not help an equally +pronounced dislike to giving up the prospect of office. For his +observation was constantly confirming Mr. Farebrothers assurance that +the banker would not overlook opposition. Confound their petty +politics! was one of his thoughts for three mornings in the meditative +process of shaving, when he had begun to feel that he must really hold +a court of conscience on this matter. Certainly there were valid things +to be said against the election of Mr. Farebrother: he had too much on +his hands already, especially considering how much time he spent on +non-clerical occupations. Then again it was a continually repeated +shock, disturbing Lydgates esteem, that the Vicar should obviously +play for the sake of money, liking the play indeed, but evidently +liking some end which it served. Mr. Farebrother contended on theory +for the desirability of all games, and said that Englishmens wit was +stagnant for want of them; but Lydgate felt certain that he would have +played very much less but for the money. There was a billiard-room at +the Green Dragon, which some anxious mothers and wives regarded as the +chief temptation in Middlemarch. The Vicar was a first-rate +billiard-player, and though he did not frequent the Green Dragon, there +were reports that he had sometimes been there in the daytime and had +won money. And as to the chaplaincy, he did not pretend that he cared +for it, except for the sake of the forty pounds. Lydgate was no +Puritan, but he did not care for play, and winning money at it had +always seemed a meanness to him; besides, he had an ideal of life which +made this subservience of conduct to the gaining of small sums +thoroughly hateful to him. Hitherto in his own life his wants had been +supplied without any trouble to himself, and his first impulse was +always to be liberal with half-crowns as matters of no importance to a +gentleman; it had never occurred to him to devise a plan for getting +half-crowns. He had always known in a general way that he was not rich, +but he had never felt poor, and he had no power of imagining the part +which the want of money plays in determining the actions of men. Money +had never been a motive to him. Hence he was not ready to frame excuses +for this deliberate pursuit of small gains. It was altogether repulsive +to him, and he never entered into any calculation of the ratio between +the Vicars income and his more or less necessary expenditure. It was +possible that he would not have made such a calculation in his own +case. + +And now, when the question of voting had come, this repulsive fact told +more strongly against Mr. Farebrother than it had done before. One +would know much better what to do if mens characters were more +consistent, and especially if ones friends were invariably fit for any +function they desired to undertake! Lydgate was convinced that if there +had been no valid objection to Mr. Farebrother, he would have voted for +him, whatever Bulstrode might have felt on the subject: he did not +intend to be a vassal of Bulstrodes. On the other hand, there was +Tyke, a man entirely given to his clerical office, who was simply +curate at a chapel of ease in St. Peters parish, and had time for +extra duty. Nobody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that +they could not bear him, and suspected him of cant. Really, from his +point of view, Bulstrode was thoroughly justified. + +But whichever way Lydgate began to incline, there was something to make +him wince; and being a proud man, he was a little exasperated at being +obliged to wince. He did not like frustrating his own best purposes by +getting on bad terms with Bulstrode; he did not like voting against +Farebrother, and helping to deprive him of function and salary; and the +question occurred whether the additional forty pounds might not leave +the Vicar free from that ignoble care about winning at cards. Moreover, +Lydgate did not like the consciousness that in voting for Tyke he +should be voting on the side obviously convenient for himself. But +would the end really be his own convenience? Other people would say so, +and would allege that he was currying favor with Bulstrode for the sake +of making himself important and getting on in the world. What then? He +for his own part knew that if his personal prospects simply had been +concerned, he would not have cared a rotten nut for the bankers +friendship or enmity. What he really cared for was a medium for his +work, a vehicle for his ideas; and after all, was he not bound to +prefer the object of getting a good hospital, where he could +demonstrate the specific distinctions of fever and test therapeutic +results, before anything else connected with this chaplaincy? For the +first time Lydgate was feeling the hampering threadlike pressure of +small social conditions, and their frustrating complexity. At the end +of his inward debate, when he set out for the hospital, his hope was +really in the chance that discussion might somehow give a new aspect to +the question, and make the scale dip so as to exclude the necessity for +voting. I think he trusted a little also to the energy which is +begotten by circumstancessome feeling rushing warmly and making +resolve easy, while debate in cool blood had only made it more +difficult. However it was, he did not distinctly say to himself on +which side he would vote; and all the while he was inwardly resenting +the subjection which had been forced upon him. It would have seemed +beforehand like a ridiculous piece of bad logic that he, with his +unmixed resolutions of independence and his select purposes, would find +himself at the very outset in the grasp of petty alternatives, each of +which was repugnant to him. In his students chambers, he had +prearranged his social action quite differently. + +Lydgate was late in setting out, but Dr. Sprague, the two other +surgeons, and several of the directors had arrived early; Mr. +Bulstrode, treasurer and chairman, being among those who were still +absent. The conversation seemed to imply that the issue was +problematical, and that a majority for Tyke was not so certain as had +been generally supposed. The two physicians, for a wonder, turned out +to be unanimous, or rather, though of different minds, they concurred +in action. Dr. Sprague, the rugged and weighty, was, as every one had +foreseen, an adherent of Mr. Farebrother. The Doctor was more than +suspected of having no religion, but somehow Middlemarch tolerated this +deficiency in him as if he had been a Lord Chancellor; indeed it is +probable that his professional weight was the more believed in, the +world-old association of cleverness with the evil principle being still +potent in the minds even of lady-patients who had the strictest ideas +of frilling and sentiment. It was perhaps this negation in the Doctor +which made his neighbors call him hard-headed and dry-witted; +conditions of texture which were also held favorable to the storing of +judgments connected with drugs. At all events, it is certain that if +any medical man had come to Middlemarch with the reputation of having +very definite religious views, of being given to prayer, and of +otherwise showing an active piety, there would have been a general +presumption against his medical skill. + +On this ground it was (professionally speaking) fortunate for Dr. +Minchin that his religious sympathies were of a general kind, and such +as gave a distant medical sanction to all serious sentiment, whether of +Church or Dissent, rather than any adhesion to particular tenets. If +Mr. Bulstrode insisted, as he was apt to do, on the Lutheran doctrine +of justification, as that by which a Church must stand or fall, Dr. +Minchin in return was quite sure that man was not a mere machine or a +fortuitous conjunction of atoms; if Mrs. Wimple insisted on a +particular providence in relation to her stomach complaint, Dr. Minchin +for his part liked to keep the mental windows open and objected to +fixed limits; if the Unitarian brewer jested about the Athanasian +Creed, Dr. Minchin quoted Popes Essay on Man. He objected to the +rather free style of anecdote in which Dr. Sprague indulged, preferring +well-sanctioned quotations, and liking refinement of all kinds: it was +generally known that he had some kinship to a bishop, and sometimes +spent his holidays at the palace. + +Dr. Minchin was soft-handed, pale-complexioned, and of rounded outline, +not to be distinguished from a mild clergyman in appearance: whereas +Dr. Sprague was superfluously tall; his trousers got creased at the +knees, and showed an excess of boot at a time when straps seemed +necessary to any dignity of bearing; you heard him go in and out, and +up and down, as if he had come to see after the roofing. In short, he +had weight, and might be expected to grapple with a disease and throw +it; while Dr. Minchin might be better able to detect it lurking and to +circumvent it. They enjoyed about equally the mysterious privilege of +medical reputation, and concealed with much etiquette their contempt +for each others skill. Regarding themselves as Middlemarch +institutions, they were ready to combine against all innovators, and +against non-professionals given to interference. On this ground they +were both in their hearts equally averse to Mr. Bulstrode, though Dr. +Minchin had never been in open hostility with him, and never differed +from him without elaborate explanation to Mrs. Bulstrode, who had found +that Dr. Minchin alone understood her constitution. A layman who pried +into the professional conduct of medical men, and was always obtruding +his reforms,though he was less directly embarrassing to the two +physicians than to the surgeon-apothecaries who attended paupers by +contract, was nevertheless offensive to the professional nostril as +such; and Dr. Minchin shared fully in the new pique against Bulstrode, +excited by his apparent determination to patronize Lydgate. The +long-established practitioners, Mr. Wrench and Mr. Toller; were just +now standing apart and having a friendly colloquy, in which they agreed +that Lydgate was a jackanapes, just made to serve Bulstrodes purpose. +To non-medical friends they had already concurred in praising the other +young practitioner, who had come into the town on Mr. Peacocks +retirement without further recommendation than his own merits and such +argument for solid professional acquirement as might be gathered from +his having apparently wasted no time on other branches of knowledge. It +was clear that Lydgate, by not dispensing drugs, intended to cast +imputations on his equals, and also to obscure the limit between his +own rank as a general practitioner and that of the physicians, who, in +the interest of the profession, felt bound to maintain its various +grades,especially against a man who had not been to either of the +English universities and enjoyed the absence of anatomical and bedside +study there, but came with a libellous pretension to experience in +Edinburgh and Paris, where observation might be abundant indeed, but +hardly sound. + +Thus it happened that on this occasion Bulstrode became identified with +Lydgate, and Lydgate with Tyke; and owing to this variety of +interchangeable names for the chaplaincy question, diverse minds were +enabled to form the same judgment concerning it. + +Dr. Sprague said at once bluntly to the group assembled when he +entered, I go for Farebrother. A salary, with all my heart. But why +take it from the Vicar? He has none too muchhas to insure his life, +besides keeping house, and doing a vicars charities. Put forty pounds +in his pocket and youll do no harm. Hes a good fellow, is +Farebrother, with as little of the parson about him as will serve to +carry orders. + +Ho, ho! Doctor, said old Mr. Powderell, a retired iron-monger of some +standinghis interjection being something between a laugh and a +Parliamentary disapproval; we must let you have your say. But what we +have to consider is not anybodys incomeits the souls of the poor +sick peoplehere Mr. Powderells voice and face had a sincere pathos +in them. He is a real Gospel preacher, is Mr. Tyke. I should vote +against my conscience if I voted against Mr. TykeI should indeed. + +Mr. Tykes opponents have not asked any one to vote against his +conscience, I believe, said Mr. Hackbutt, a rich tanner of fluent +speech, whose glittering spectacles and erect hair were turned with +some severity towards innocent Mr. Powderell. But in my judgment it +behoves us, as Directors, to consider whether we will regard it as our +whole business to carry out propositions emanating from a single +quarter. Will any member of the committee aver that he would have +entertained the idea of displacing the gentleman who has always +discharged the function of chaplain here, if it had not been suggested +to him by parties whose disposition it is to regard every institution +of this town as a machinery for carrying out their own views? I tax no +mans motives: let them lie between himself and a higher Power; but I +do say, that there are influences at work here which are incompatible +with genuine independence, and that a crawling servility is usually +dictated by circumstances which gentlemen so conducting themselves +could not afford either morally or financially to avow. I myself am a +layman, but I have given no inconsiderable attention to the divisions +in the Church and + +Oh, damn the divisions! burst in Mr. Frank Hawley, lawyer and +town-clerk, who rarely presented himself at the board, but now looked +in hurriedly, whip in hand. We have nothing to do with them here. +Farebrother has been doing the workwhat there waswithout pay, and if +pay is to be given, it should be given to him. I call it a confounded +job to take the thing away from Farebrother. + +I think it would be as well for gentlemen not to give their remarks a +personal bearing, said Mr. Plymdale. I shall vote for the appointment +of Mr. Tyke, but I should not have known, if Mr. Hackbutt hadnt hinted +it, that I was a Servile Crawler. + +I disclaim any personalities. I expressly said, if I may be allowed to +repeat, or even to conclude what I was about to say + +Ah, heres Minchin! said Mr. Frank Hawley; at which everybody turned +away from Mr. Hackbutt, leaving him to feel the uselessness of superior +gifts in Middlemarch. Come, Doctor, I must have you on the right side, +eh? + +I hope so, said Dr. Minchin, nodding and shaking hands here and +there; at whatever cost to my feelings. + +If theres any feeling here, it should be feeling for the man who is +turned out, I think, said Mr. Frank Hawley. + +I confess I have feelings on the other side also. I have a divided +esteem, said Dr. Minchin, rubbing his hands. I consider Mr. Tyke an +exemplary mannone more soand I believe him to be proposed from +unimpeachable motives. I, for my part, wish that I could give him my +vote. But I am constrained to take a view of the case which gives the +preponderance to Mr. Farebrothers claims. He is an amiable man, an +able preacher, and has been longer among us. + +Old Mr. Powderell looked on, sad and silent. Mr. Plymdale settled his +cravat, uneasily. + +You dont set up Farebrother as a pattern of what a clergyman ought to +be, I hope, said Mr. Larcher, the eminent carrier, who had just come +in. I have no ill-will towards him, but I think we owe something to +the public, not to speak of anything higher, in these appointments. In +my opinion Farebrother is too lax for a clergyman. I dont wish to +bring up particulars against him; but he will make a little attendance +here go as far as he can. + +And a devilish deal better than too much, said Mr. Hawley, whose bad +language was notorious in that part of the county. Sick people cant +bear so much praying and preaching. And that methodistical sort of +religion is bad for the spiritsbad for the inside, eh? he added, +turning quickly round to the four medical men who were assembled. + +But any answer was dispensed with by the entrance of three gentlemen, +with whom there were greetings more or less cordial. These were the +Reverend Edward Thesiger, Rector of St. Peters, Mr. Bulstrode, and our +friend Mr. Brooke of Tipton, who had lately allowed himself to be put +on the board of directors in his turn, but had never before attended, +his attendance now being due to Mr. Bulstrodes exertions. Lydgate was +the only person still expected. + +Every one now sat down, Mr. Bulstrode presiding, pale and +self-restrained as usual. Mr. Thesiger, a moderate evangelical, wished +for the appointment of his friend Mr. Tyke, a zealous able man, who, +officiating at a chapel of ease, had not a cure of souls too extensive +to leave him ample time for the new duty. It was desirable that +chaplaincies of this kind should be entered on with a fervent +intention: they were peculiar opportunities for spiritual influence; +and while it was good that a salary should be allotted, there was the +more need for scrupulous watching lest the office should be perverted +into a mere question of salary. Mr. Thesigers manner had so much quiet +propriety that objectors could only simmer in silence. + +Mr. Brooke believed that everybody meant well in the matter. He had not +himself attended to the affairs of the Infirmary, though he had a +strong interest in whatever was for the benefit of Middlemarch, and was +most happy to meet the gentlemen present on any public questionany +public question, you know, Mr. Brooke repeated, with his nod of +perfect understanding. I am a good deal occupied as a magistrate, and +in the collection of documentary evidence, but I regard my time as +being at the disposal of the publicand, in short, my friends have +convinced me that a chaplain with a salarya salary, you knowis a very +good thing, and I am happy to be able to come here and vote for the +appointment of Mr. Tyke, who, I understand, is an unexceptionable man, +apostolic and eloquent and everything of that kindand I am the last +man to withhold my voteunder the circumstances, you know. + +It seems to me that you have been crammed with one side of the +question, Mr. Brooke, said Mr. Frank Hawley, who was afraid of nobody, +and was a Tory suspicious of electioneering intentions. You dont seem +to know that one of the worthiest men we have has been doing duty as +chaplain here for years without pay, and that Mr. Tyke is proposed to +supersede him. + +Excuse me, Mr. Hawley, said Mr. Bulstrode. Mr. Brooke has been fully +informed of Mr. Farebrothers character and position. + +By his enemies, flashed out Mr. Hawley. + +I trust there is no personal hostility concerned here, said Mr. +Thesiger. + +Ill swear there is, though, retorted Mr. Hawley. + +Gentlemen, said Mr. Bulstrode, in a subdued tone, the merits of the +question may be very briefly stated, and if any one present doubts that +every gentleman who is about to give his vote has not been fully +informed, I can now recapitulate the considerations that should weigh +on either side. + +I dont see the good of that, said Mr. Hawley. I suppose we all know +whom we mean to vote for. Any man who wants to do justice does not wait +till the last minute to hear both sides of the question. I have no time +to lose, and I propose that the matter be put to the vote at once. + +A brief but still hot discussion followed before each person wrote +Tyke or Farebrother on a piece of paper and slipped it into a glass +tumbler; and in the mean time Mr. Bulstrode saw Lydgate enter. + +I perceive that the votes are equally divided at present, said Mr. +Bulstrode, in a clear biting voice. Then, looking up at Lydgate + +There is a casting-vote still to be given. It is yours, Mr. Lydgate: +will you be good enough to write? + +The thing is settled now, said Mr. Wrench, rising. We all know how +Mr. Lydgate will vote. + +You seem to speak with some peculiar meaning, sir, said Lydgate, +rather defiantly, and keeping his pencil suspended. + +I merely mean that you are expected to vote with Mr. Bulstrode. Do you +regard that meaning as offensive? + +It may be offensive to others. But I shall not desist from voting with +him on that account. Lydgate immediately wrote down Tyke. + +So the Rev. Walter Tyke became chaplain to the Infirmary, and Lydgate +continued to work with Mr. Bulstrode. He was really uncertain whether +Tyke were not the more suitable candidate, and yet his consciousness +told him that if he had been quite free from indirect bias he should +have voted for Mr. Farebrother. The affair of the chaplaincy remained a +sore point in his memory as a case in which this petty medium of +Middlemarch had been too strong for him. How could a man be satisfied +with a decision between such alternatives and under such circumstances? +No more than he can be satisfied with his hat, which he has chosen from +among such shapes as the resources of the age offer him, wearing it at +best with a resignation which is chiefly supported by comparison. + +But Mr. Farebrother met him with the same friendliness as before. The +character of the publican and sinner is not always practically +incompatible with that of the modern Pharisee, for the majority of us +scarcely see more distinctly the faultiness of our own conduct than the +faultiness of our own arguments, or the dulness of our own jokes. But +the Vicar of St. Botolphs had certainly escaped the slightest tincture +of the Pharisee, and by dint of admitting to himself that he was too +much as other men were, he had become remarkably unlike them in +thisthat he could excuse others for thinking slightly of him, and +could judge impartially of their conduct even when it told against him. + +The world has been too strong for _me_, I know, he said one day to +Lydgate. But then I am not a mighty manI shall never be a man of +renown. The choice of Hercules is a pretty fable; but Prodicus makes it +easy work for the hero, as if the first resolves were enough. Another +story says that he came to hold the distaff, and at last wore the +Nessus shirt. I suppose one good resolve might keep a man right if +everybody elses resolve helped him. + +The Vicars talk was not always inspiriting: he had escaped being a +Pharisee, but he had not escaped that low estimate of possibilities +which we rather hastily arrive at as an inference from our own failure. +Lydgate thought that there was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. +Farebrother. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +L altra vedete chha fatto alla guancia +Della sua palma, sospirando, letto. +_Purgatorio_, vii. + + +When George the Fourth was still reigning over the privacies of +Windsor, when the Duke of Wellington was Prime Minister, and Mr. Vincy +was mayor of the old corporation in Middlemarch, Mrs. Casaubon, born +Dorothea Brooke, had taken her wedding journey to Rome. In those days +the world in general was more ignorant of good and evil by forty years +than it is at present. Travellers did not often carry full information +on Christian art either in their heads or their pockets; and even the +most brilliant English critic of the day mistook the flower-flushed +tomb of the ascended Virgin for an ornamental vase due to the painters +fancy. Romanticism, which has helped to fill some dull blanks with love +and knowledge, had not yet penetrated the times with its leaven and +entered into everybodys food; it was fermenting still as a +distinguishable vigorous enthusiasm in certain long-haired German +artists at Rome, and the youth of other nations who worked or idled +near them were sometimes caught in the spreading movement. + +One fine morning a young man whose hair was not immoderately long, but +abundant and curly, and who was otherwise English in his equipment, had +just turned his back on the Belvedere Torso in the Vatican and was +looking out on the magnificent view of the mountains from the adjoining +round vestibule. He was sufficiently absorbed not to notice the +approach of a dark-eyed, animated German who came up to him and placing +a hand on his shoulder, said with a strong accent, Come here, quick! +else she will have changed her pose. + +Quickness was ready at the call, and the two figures passed lightly +along by the Meleager, towards the hall where the reclining Ariadne, +then called the Cleopatra, lies in the marble voluptuousness of her +beauty, the drapery folding around her with a petal-like ease and +tenderness. They were just in time to see another figure standing +against a pedestal near the reclining marble: a breathing blooming +girl, whose form, not shamed by the Ariadne, was clad in Quakerish gray +drapery; her long cloak, fastened at the neck, was thrown backward from +her arms, and one beautiful ungloved hand pillowed her cheek, pushing +somewhat backward the white beaver bonnet which made a sort of halo to +her face around the simply braided dark-brown hair. She was not looking +at the sculpture, probably not thinking of it: her large eyes were +fixed dreamily on a streak of sunlight which fell across the floor. But +she became conscious of the two strangers who suddenly paused as if to +contemplate the Cleopatra, and, without looking at them, immediately +turned away to join a maid-servant and courier who were loitering along +the hall at a little distance off. + +What do you think of that for a fine bit of antithesis? said the +German, searching in his friends face for responding admiration, but +going on volubly without waiting for any other answer. There lies +antique beauty, not corpse-like even in death, but arrested in the +complete contentment of its sensuous perfection: and here stands beauty +in its breathing life, with the consciousness of Christian centuries in +its bosom. But she should be dressed as a nun; I think she looks almost +what you call a Quaker; I would dress her as a nun in my picture. +However, she is married; I saw her wedding-ring on that wonderful left +hand, otherwise I should have thought the sallow _Geistlicher_ was her +father. I saw him parting from her a good while ago, and just now I +found her in that magnificent pose. Only think! he is perhaps rich, and +would like to have her portrait taken. Ah! it is no use looking after +herthere she goes! Let us follow her home! + +No, no, said his companion, with a little frown. + +You are singular, Ladislaw. You look struck together. Do you know +her? + +I know that she is married to my cousin, said Will Ladislaw, +sauntering down the hall with a preoccupied air, while his German +friend kept at his side and watched him eagerly. + +What! the _Geistlicher_? He looks more like an unclea more useful +sort of relation. + +He is not my uncle. I tell you he is my second cousin, said Ladislaw, +with some irritation. + +Schn, schn. Dont be snappish. You are not angry with me for +thinking Mrs. Second-Cousin the most perfect young Madonna I ever saw? + +Angry? nonsense. I have only seen her once before, for a couple of +minutes, when my cousin introduced her to me, just before I left +England. They were not married then. I didnt know they were coming to +Rome. + +But you will go to see them nowyou will find out what they have for +an addresssince you know the name. Shall we go to the post? And you +could speak about the portrait. + +Confound you, Naumann! I dont know what I shall do. I am not so +brazen as you. + +Bah! that is because you are dilettantish and amateurish. If you were +an artist, you would think of Mistress Second-Cousin as antique form +animated by Christian sentimenta sort of Christian Antigonesensuous +force controlled by spiritual passion. + +Yes, and that your painting her was the chief outcome of her +existencethe divinity passing into higher completeness and all but +exhausted in the act of covering your bit of canvas. I am amateurish if +you like: I do _not_ think that all the universe is straining towards +the obscure significance of your pictures. + +But it is, my dear!so far as it is straining through me, Adolf +Naumann: that stands firm, said the good-natured painter, putting a +hand on Ladislaws shoulder, and not in the least disturbed by the +unaccountable touch of ill-humor in his tone. See now! My existence +presupposes the existence of the whole universedoes it _not?_ and my +function is to paintand as a painter I have a conception which is +altogether _genialisch_, of your great-aunt or second grandmother as a +subject for a picture; therefore, the universe is straining towards +that picture through that particular hook or claw which it puts forth +in the shape of menot true? + +But how if another claw in the shape of me is straining to thwart +it?the case is a little less simple then. + +Not at all: the result of the struggle is the same thingpicture or no +picturelogically. + +Will could not resist this imperturbable temper, and the cloud in his +face broke into sunshiny laughter. + +Come now, my friendyou will help? said Naumann, in a hopeful tone. + +No; nonsense, Naumann! English ladies are not at everybodys service +as models. And you want to express too much with your painting. You +would only have made a better or worse portrait with a background which +every connoisseur would give a different reason for or against. And +what is a portrait of a woman? Your painting and Plastik are poor stuff +after all. They perturb and dull conceptions instead of raising them. +Language is a finer medium. + +Yes, for those who cant paint, said Naumann. There you have perfect +right. I did not recommend you to paint, my friend. + +The amiable artist carried his sting, but Ladislaw did not choose to +appear stung. He went on as if he had not heard. + +Language gives a fuller image, which is all the better for being +vague. After all, the true seeing is within; and painting stares at you +with an insistent imperfection. I feel that especially about +representations of women. As if a woman were a mere colored +superficies! You must wait for movement and tone. There is a difference +in their very breathing: they change from moment to moment.This woman +whom you have just seen, for example: how would you paint her voice, +pray? But her voice is much diviner than anything you have seen of +her. + +I see, I see. You are jealous. No man must presume to think that he +can paint your ideal. This is serious, my friend! Your great-aunt! Der +Neffe als Onkel in a tragic sense_ungeheuer!_ + +You and I shall quarrel, Naumann, if you call that lady my aunt +again. + +How is she to be called then? + +Mrs. Casaubon. + +Good. Suppose I get acquainted with her in spite of you, and find that +she very much wishes to be painted? + +Yes, suppose! said Will Ladislaw, in a contemptuous undertone, +intended to dismiss the subject. He was conscious of being irritated by +ridiculously small causes, which were half of his own creation. Why was +he making any fuss about Mrs. Casaubon? And yet he felt as if something +had happened to him with regard to her. There are characters which are +continually creating collisions and nodes for themselves in dramas +which nobody is prepared to act with them. Their susceptibilities will +clash against objects that remain innocently quiet. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +A child forsaken, waking suddenly, +Whose gaze afeard on all things round doth rove, +And seeth only that it cannot see + The meeting eyes of love. + + +Two hours later, Dorothea was seated in an inner room or boudoir of a +handsome apartment in the Via Sistina. + +I am sorry to add that she was sobbing bitterly, with such abandonment +to this relief of an oppressed heart as a woman habitually controlled +by pride on her own account and thoughtfulness for others will +sometimes allow herself when she feels securely alone. And Mr. Casaubon +was certain to remain away for some time at the Vatican. + +Yet Dorothea had no distinctly shapen grievance that she could state +even to herself; and in the midst of her confused thought and passion, +the mental act that was struggling forth into clearness was a +self-accusing cry that her feeling of desolation was the fault of her +own spiritual poverty. She had married the man of her choice, and with +the advantage over most girls that she had contemplated her marriage +chiefly as the beginning of new duties: from the very first she had +thought of Mr. Casaubon as having a mind so much above her own, that he +must often be claimed by studies which she could not entirely share; +moreover, after the brief narrow experience of her girlhood she was +beholding Rome, the city of visible history, where the past of a whole +hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral +images and trophies gathered from afar. + +But this stupendous fragmentariness heightened the dreamlike +strangeness of her bridal life. Dorothea had now been five weeks in +Rome, and in the kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to go +hand in hand like a happy aged couple one of whom would presently +survive in chiller loneliness, she had driven about at first with Mr. +Casaubon, but of late chiefly with Tantripp and their experienced +courier. She had been led through the best galleries, had been taken to +the chief points of view, had been shown the grandest ruins and the +most glorious churches, and she had ended by oftenest choosing to drive +out to the Campagna where she could feel alone with the earth and sky, +away-from the oppressive masquerade of ages, in which her own life too +seemed to become a masque with enigmatical costumes. + +To those who have looked at Rome with the quickening power of a +knowledge which breathes a growing soul into all historic shapes, and +traces out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome +may still be the spiritual centre and interpreter of the world. But let +them conceive one more historical contrast: the gigantic broken +revelations of that Imperial and Papal city thrust abruptly on the +notions of a girl who had been brought up in English and Swiss +Puritanism, fed on meagre Protestant histories and on art chiefly of +the hand-screen sort; a girl whose ardent nature turned all her small +allowance of knowledge into principles, fusing her actions into their +mould, and whose quick emotions gave the most abstract things the +quality of a pleasure or a pain; a girl who had lately become a wife, +and from the enthusiastic acceptance of untried duty found herself +plunged in tumultuous preoccupation with her personal lot. The weight +of unintelligible Rome might lie easily on bright nymphs to whom it +formed a background for the brilliant picnic of Anglo-foreign society; +but Dorothea had no such defence against deep impressions. Ruins and +basilicas, palaces and colossi, set in the midst of a sordid present, +where all that was living and warm-blooded seemed sunk in the deep +degeneracy of a superstition divorced from reverence; the dimmer but +yet eager Titanic life gazing and struggling on walls and ceilings; the +long vistas of white forms whose marble eyes seemed to hold the +monotonous light of an alien world: all this vast wreck of ambitious +ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the signs of +breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first jarred her as with an +electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with that ache +belonging to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion. +Forms both pale and glowing took possession of her young sense, and +fixed themselves in her memory even when she was not thinking of them, +preparing strange associations which remained through her after-years. +Our moods are apt to bring with them images which succeed each other +like the magic-lantern pictures of a doze; and in certain states of +dull forlornness Dorothea all her life continued to see the vastness of +St. Peters, the huge bronze canopy, the excited intention in the +attitudes and garments of the prophets and evangelists in the mosaics +above, and the red drapery which was being hung for Christmas spreading +itself everywhere like a disease of the retina. + +Not that this inward amazement of Dorotheas was anything very +exceptional: many souls in their young nudity are tumbled out among +incongruities and left to find their feet among them, while their +elders go about their business. Nor can I suppose that when Mrs. +Casaubon is discovered in a fit of weeping six weeks after her wedding, +the situation will be regarded as tragic. Some discouragement, some +faintness of heart at the new real future which replaces the imaginary, +is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply moved by what +is not unusual. That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of +frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of +mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had +a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like +hearing the grass grow and the squirrels heart beat, and we should die +of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the +quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity. + +However, Dorothea was crying, and if she had been required to state the +cause, she could only have done so in some such general words as I have +already used: to have been driven to be more particular would have been +like trying to give a history of the lights and shadows, for that new +real future which was replacing the imaginary drew its material from +the endless minutiae by which her view of Mr. Casaubon and her wifely +relation, now that she was married to him, was gradually changing with +the secret motion of a watch-hand from what it had been in her maiden +dream. It was too early yet for her fully to recognize or at least +admit the change, still more for her to have readjusted that +devotedness which was so necessary a part of her mental life that she +was almost sure sooner or later to recover it. Permanent rebellion, the +disorder of a life without some loving reverent resolve, was not +possible to her; but she was now in an interval when the very force of +her nature heightened its confusion. In this way, the early months of +marriage often are times of critical tumultwhether that of a +shrimp-pool or of deeper waterswhich afterwards subsides into cheerful +peace. + +But was not Mr. Casaubon just as learned as before? Had his forms of +expression changed, or his sentiments become less laudable? Oh +waywardness of womanhood! did his chronology fail him, or his ability +to state not only a theory but the names of those who held it; or his +provision for giving the heads of any subject on demand? And was not +Rome the place in all the world to give free play to such +accomplishments? Besides, had not Dorotheas enthusiasm especially +dwelt on the prospect of relieving the weight and perhaps the sadness +with which great tasks lie on him who has to achieve them? And that +such weight pressed on Mr. Casaubon was only plainer than before. + +All these are crushing questions; but whatever else remained the same, +the light had changed, and you cannot find the pearly dawn at noonday. +The fact is unalterable, that a fellow-mortal with whose nature you are +acquainted solely through the brief entrances and exits of a few +imaginative weeks called courtship, may, when seen in the continuity of +married companionship, be disclosed as something better or worse than +what you have preconceived, but will certainly not appear altogether +the same. And it would be astonishing to find how soon the change is +felt if we had no kindred changes to compare with it. To share lodgings +with a brilliant dinner-companion, or to see your favorite politician +in the Ministry, may bring about changes quite as rapid: in these cases +too we begin by knowing little and believing much, and we sometimes end +by inverting the quantities. + +Still, such comparisons might mislead, for no man was more incapable of +flashy make-believe than Mr. Casaubon: he was as genuine a character as +any ruminant animal, and he had not actively assisted in creating any +illusions about himself. How was it that in the weeks since her +marriage, Dorothea had not distinctly observed but felt with a stifling +depression, that the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had +dreamed of finding in her husbands mind were replaced by anterooms and +winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither? I suppose it was that +in courtship everything is regarded as provisional and preliminary, and +the smallest sample of virtue or accomplishment is taken to guarantee +delightful stores which the broad leisure of marriage will reveal. But +the door-sill of marriage once crossed, expectation is concentrated on +the present. Having once embarked on your marital voyage, it is +impossible not to be aware that you make no way and that the sea is not +within sightthat, in fact, you are exploring an enclosed basin. + +In their conversation before marriage, Mr. Casaubon had often dwelt on +some explanation or questionable detail of which Dorothea did not see +the bearing; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to the brokenness +of their intercourse, and, supported by her faith in their future, she +had listened with fervid patience to a recitation of possible arguments +to be brought against Mr. Casaubons entirely new view of the +Philistine god Dagon and other fish-deities, thinking that hereafter +she should see this subject which touched him so nearly from the same +high ground whence doubtless it had become so important to him. Again, +the matter-of-course statement and tone of dismissal with which he +treated what to her were the most stirring thoughts, was easily +accounted for as belonging to the sense of haste and preoccupation in +which she herself shared during their engagement. But now, since they +had been in Rome, with all the depths of her emotion roused to +tumultuous activity, and with life made a new problem by new elements, +she had been becoming more and more aware, with a certain terror, that +her mind was continually sliding into inward fits of anger and +repulsion, or else into forlorn weariness. How far the judicious Hooker +or any other hero of erudition would have been the same at Mr. +Casaubons time of life, she had no means of knowing, so that he could +not have the advantage of comparison; but her husbands way of +commenting on the strangely impressive objects around them had begun to +affect her with a sort of mental shiver: he had perhaps the best +intention of acquitting himself worthily, but only of acquitting +himself. What was fresh to her mind was worn out to his; and such +capacity of thought and feeling as had ever been stimulated in him by +the general life of mankind had long shrunk to a sort of dried +preparation, a lifeless embalmment of knowledge. + +When he said, Does this interest you, Dorothea? Shall we stay a little +longer? I am ready to stay if you wish it,it seemed to her as if +going or staying were alike dreary. Or, Should you like to go to the +Farnesina, Dorothea? It contains celebrated frescos designed or painted +by Raphael, which most persons think it worth while to visit. + +But do you care about them? was always Dorotheas question. + +They are, I believe, highly esteemed. Some of them represent the fable +of Cupid and Psyche, which is probably the romantic invention of a +literary period, and cannot, I think, be reckoned as a genuine mythical +product. But if you like these wall-paintings we can easily drive +thither; and you will then, I think, have seen the chief works of +Raphael, any of which it were a pity to omit in a visit to Rome. He is +the painter who has been held to combine the most complete grace of +form with sublimity of expression. Such at least I have gathered to be +the opinion of cognoscenti. + +This kind of answer given in a measured official tone, as of a +clergyman reading according to the rubric, did not help to justify the +glories of the Eternal City, or to give her the hope that if she knew +more about them the world would be joyously illuminated for her. There +is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than +that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in +a blank absence of interest or sympathy. + +On other subjects indeed Mr. Casaubon showed a tenacity of occupation +and an eagerness which are usually regarded as the effect of +enthusiasm, and Dorothea was anxious to follow this spontaneous +direction of his thoughts, instead of being made to feel that she +dragged him away from it. But she was gradually ceasing to expect with +her former delightful confidence that she should see any wide opening +where she followed him. Poor Mr. Casaubon himself was lost among small +closets and winding stairs, and in an agitated dimness about the +Cabeiri, or in an exposure of other mythologists ill-considered +parallels, easily lost sight of any purpose which had prompted him to +these labors. With his taper stuck before him he forgot the absence of +windows, and in bitter manuscript remarks on other mens notions about +the solar deities, he had become indifferent to the sunlight. + +These characteristics, fixed and unchangeable as bone in Mr. Casaubon, +might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she had been +encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feelingif he would +have held her hands between his and listened with the delight of +tenderness and understanding to all the little histories which made up +her experience, and would have given her the same sort of intimacy in +return, so that the past life of each could be included in their mutual +knowledge and affectionor if she could have fed her affection with +those childlike caresses which are the bent of every sweet woman, who +has begun by showering kisses on the hard pate of her bald doll, +creating a happy soul within that woodenness from the wealth of her own +love. That was Dorotheas bent. With all her yearning to know what was +afar from her and to be widely benignant, she had ardor enough for what +was near, to have kissed Mr. Casaubons coat-sleeve, or to have +caressed his shoe-latchet, if he would have made any other sign of +acceptance than pronouncing her, with his unfailing propriety, to be of +a most affectionate and truly feminine nature, indicating at the same +time by politely reaching a chair for her that he regarded these +manifestations as rather crude and startling. Having made his clerical +toilet with due care in the morning, he was prepared only for those +amenities of life which were suited to the well-adjusted stiff cravat +of the period, and to a mind weighted with unpublished matter. + +And by a sad contradiction Dorotheas ideas and resolves seemed like +melting ice floating and lost in the warm flood of which they had been +but another form. She was humiliated to find herself a mere victim of +feeling, as if she could know nothing except through that medium: all +her strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of +despondency, and then again in visions of more complete renunciation, +transforming all hard conditions into duty. Poor Dorothea! she was +certainly troublesometo herself chiefly; but this morning for the +first time she had been troublesome to Mr. Casaubon. + +She had begun, while they were taking coffee, with a determination to +shake off what she inwardly called her selfishness, and turned a face +all cheerful attention to her husband when he said, My dear Dorothea, +we must now think of all that is yet left undone, as a preliminary to +our departure. I would fain have returned home earlier that we might +have been at Lowick for the Christmas; but my inquiries here have been +protracted beyond their anticipated period. I trust, however, that the +time here has not been passed unpleasantly to you. Among the sights of +Europe, that of Rome has ever been held one of the most striking and in +some respects edifying. I well remember that I considered it an epoch +in my life when I visited it for the first time; after the fall of +Napoleon, an event which opened the Continent to travellers. Indeed I +think it is one among several cities to which an extreme hyperbole has +been appliedSee Rome and die: but in your case I would propose an +emendation and say, See Rome as a bride, and live henceforth as a happy +wife. + +Mr. Casaubon pronounced this little speech with the most conscientious +intention, blinking a little and swaying his head up and down, and +concluding with a smile. He had not found marriage a rapturous state, +but he had no idea of being anything else than an irreproachable +husband, who would make a charming young woman as happy as she deserved +to be. + +I hope you are thoroughly satisfied with our stayI mean, with the +result so far as your studies are concerned, said Dorothea, trying to +keep her mind fixed on what most affected her husband. + +Yes, said Mr. Casaubon, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes +the word half a negative. I have been led farther than I had foreseen, +and various subjects for annotation have presented themselves which, +though I have no direct need of them, I could not pretermit. The task, +notwithstanding the assistance of my amanuensis, has been a somewhat +laborious one, but your society has happily prevented me from that too +continuous prosecution of thought beyond the hours of study which has +been the snare of my solitary life. + +I am very glad that my presence has made any difference to you, said +Dorothea, who had a vivid memory of evenings in which she had supposed +that Mr. Casaubons mind had gone too deep during the day to be able to +get to the surface again. I fear there was a little temper in her +reply. I hope when we get to Lowick, I shall be more useful to you, +and be able to enter a little more into what interests you. + +Doubtless, my dear, said Mr. Casaubon, with a slight bow. The notes +I have here made will want sifting, and you can, if you please, extract +them under my direction. + +And all your notes, said Dorothea, whose heart had already burned +within her on this subject, so that now she could not help speaking +with her tongue. All those rows of volumeswill you not now do what +you used to speak of?will you not make up your mind what part of them +you will use, and begin to write the book which will make your vast +knowledge useful to the world? I will write to your dictation, or I +will copy and extract what you tell me: I can be of no other use. +Dorothea, in a most unaccountable, darkly feminine manner, ended with a +slight sob and eyes full of tears. + +The excessive feeling manifested would alone have been highly +disturbing to Mr. Casaubon, but there were other reasons why Dorotheas +words were among the most cutting and irritating to him that she could +have been impelled to use. She was as blind to his inward troubles as +he to hers: she had not yet learned those hidden conflicts in her +husband which claim our pity. She had not yet listened patiently to his +heartbeats, but only felt that her own was beating violently. In Mr. +Casaubons ear, Dorotheas voice gave loud emphatic iteration to those +muffled suggestions of consciousness which it was possible to explain +as mere fancy, the illusion of exaggerated sensitiveness: always when +such suggestions are unmistakably repeated from without, they are +resisted as cruel and unjust. We are angered even by the full +acceptance of our humiliating confessionshow much more by hearing in +hard distinct syllables from the lips of a near observer, those +confused murmurs which we try to call morbid, and strive against as if +they were the oncoming of numbness! And this cruel outward accuser was +there in the shape of a wifenay, of a young bride, who, instead of +observing his abundant pen-scratches and amplitude of paper with the +uncritical awe of an elegant-minded canary-bird, seemed to present +herself as a spy watching everything with a malign power of inference. +Here, towards this particular point of the compass, Mr. Casaubon had a +sensitiveness to match Dorotheas, and an equal quickness to imagine +more than the fact. He had formerly observed with approbation her +capacity for worshipping the right object; he now foresaw with sudden +terror that this capacity might be replaced by presumption, this +worship by the most exasperating of all criticism,that which sees +vaguely a great many fine ends, and has not the least notion what it +costs to reach them. + +For the first time since Dorothea had known him, Mr. Casaubons face +had a quick angry flush upon it. + +My love, he said, with irritation reined in by propriety, you may +rely upon me for knowing the times and the seasons, adapted to the +different stages of a work which is not to be measured by the facile +conjectures of ignorant onlookers. It had been easy for me to gain a +temporary effect by a mirage of baseless opinion; but it is ever the +trial of the scrupulous explorer to be saluted with the impatient scorn +of chatterers who attempt only the smallest achievements, being indeed +equipped for no other. And it were well if all such could be admonished +to discriminate judgments of which the true subject-matter lies +entirely beyond their reach, from those of which the elements may be +compassed by a narrow and superficial survey. + +This speech was delivered with an energy and readiness quite unusual +with Mr. Casaubon. It was not indeed entirely an improvisation, but had +taken shape in inward colloquy, and rushed out like the round grains +from a fruit when sudden heat cracks it. Dorothea was not only his +wife: she was a personification of that shallow world which surrounds +the appreciated or desponding author. + +Dorothea was indignant in her turn. Had she not been repressing +everything in herself except the desire to enter into some fellowship +with her husbands chief interests? + +My judgment _was_ a very superficial onesuch as I am capable of +forming, she answered, with a prompt resentment, that needed no +rehearsal. You showed me the rows of notebooksyou have often spoken +of themyou have often said that they wanted digesting. But I never +heard you speak of the writing that is to be published. Those were very +simple facts, and my judgment went no farther. I only begged you to let +me be of some good to you. + +Dorothea rose to leave the table and Mr. Casaubon made no reply, taking +up a letter which lay beside him as if to reperuse it. Both were +shocked at their mutual situationthat each should have betrayed anger +towards the other. If they had been at home, settled at Lowick in +ordinary life among their neighbors, the clash would have been less +embarrassing: but on a wedding journey, the express object of which is +to isolate two people on the ground that they are all the world to each +other, the sense of disagreement is, to say the least, confounding and +stultifying. To have changed your longitude extensively and placed +yourselves in a moral solitude in order to have small explosions, to +find conversation difficult and to hand a glass of water without +looking, can hardly be regarded as satisfactory fulfilment even to the +toughest minds. To Dorotheas inexperienced sensitiveness, it seemed +like a catastrophe, changing all prospects; and to Mr. Casaubon it was +a new pain, he never having been on a wedding journey before, or found +himself in that close union which was more of a subjection than he had +been able to imagine, since this charming young bride not only obliged +him to much consideration on her behalf (which he had sedulously +given), but turned out to be capable of agitating him cruelly just +where he most needed soothing. Instead of getting a soft fence against +the cold, shadowy, unapplausive audience of his life, had he only given +it a more substantial presence? + +Neither of them felt it possible to speak again at present. To have +reversed a previous arrangement and declined to go out would have been +a show of persistent anger which Dorotheas conscience shrank from, +seeing that she already began to feel herself guilty. However just her +indignation might be, her ideal was not to claim justice, but to give +tenderness. So when the carriage came to the door, she drove with Mr. +Casaubon to the Vatican, walked with him through the stony avenue of +inscriptions, and when she parted with him at the entrance to the +Library, went on through the Museum out of mere listlessness as to what +was around her. She had not spirit to turn round and say that she would +drive anywhere. It was when Mr. Casaubon was quitting her that Naumann +had first seen her, and he had entered the long gallery of sculpture at +the same time with her; but here Naumann had to await Ladislaw with +whom he was to settle a bet of champagne about an enigmatical +mediaeval-looking figure there. After they had examined the figure, and +had walked on finishing their dispute, they had parted, Ladislaw +lingering behind while Naumann had gone into the Hall of Statues where +he again saw Dorothea, and saw her in that brooding abstraction which +made her pose remarkable. She did not really see the streak of sunlight +on the floor more than she saw the statues: she was inwardly seeing the +light of years to come in her own home and over the English fields and +elms and hedge-bordered highroads; and feeling that the way in which +they might be filled with joyful devotedness was not so clear to her as +it had been. But in Dorotheas mind there was a current into which all +thought and feeling were apt sooner or later to flowthe reaching +forward of the whole consciousness towards the fullest truth, the least +partial good. There was clearly something better than anger and +despondency. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Hire facounde eke full womanly and plain, +No contrefeted termes had she +To semen wise. +CHAUCER. + + +It was in that way Dorothea came to be sobbing as soon as she was +securely alone. But she was presently roused by a knock at the door, +which made her hastily dry her eyes before saying, Come in. Tantripp +had brought a card, and said that there was a gentleman waiting in the +lobby. The courier had told him that only Mrs. Casaubon was at home, +but he said he was a relation of Mr. Casaubons: would she see him? + +Yes, said Dorothea, without pause; show him into the salon. Her +chief impressions about young Ladislaw were that when she had seen him +at Lowick she had been made aware of Mr. Casaubons generosity towards +him, and also that she had been interested in his own hesitation about +his career. She was alive to anything that gave her an opportunity for +active sympathy, and at this moment it seemed as if the visit had come +to shake her out of her self-absorbed discontentto remind her of her +husbands goodness, and make her feel that she had now the right to be +his helpmate in all kind deeds. She waited a minute or two, but when +she passed into the next room there were just signs enough that she had +been crying to make her open face look more youthful and appealing than +usual. She met Ladislaw with that exquisite smile of good-will which is +unmixed with vanity, and held out her hand to him. He was the elder by +several years, but at that moment he looked much the younger, for his +transparent complexion flushed suddenly, and he spoke with a shyness +extremely unlike the ready indifference of his manner with his male +companion, while Dorothea became all the calmer with a wondering desire +to put him at ease. + +I was not aware that you and Mr. Casaubon were in Rome, until this +morning, when I saw you in the Vatican Museum, he said. I knew you at +oncebutI mean, that I concluded Mr. Casaubons address would be found +at the Poste Restante, and I was anxious to pay my respects to him and +you as early as possible. + +Pray sit down. He is not here now, but he will be glad to hear of you, +I am sure, said Dorothea, seating herself unthinkingly between the +fire and the light of the tall window, and pointing to a chair +opposite, with the quietude of a benignant matron. The signs of girlish +sorrow in her face were only the more striking. Mr. Casaubon is much +engaged; but you will leave your addresswill you not?and he will +write to you. + +You are very good, said Ladislaw, beginning to lose his diffidence in +the interest with which he was observing the signs of weeping which had +altered her face. My address is on my card. But if you will allow me I +will call again to-morrow at an hour when Mr. Casaubon is likely to be +at home. + +He goes to read in the Library of the Vatican every day, and you can +hardly see him except by an appointment. Especially now. We are about +to leave Rome, and he is very busy. He is usually away almost from +breakfast till dinner. But I am sure he will wish you to dine with us. + +Will Ladislaw was struck mute for a few moments. He had never been fond +of Mr. Casaubon, and if it had not been for the sense of obligation, +would have laughed at him as a Bat of erudition. But the idea of this +dried-up pedant, this elaborator of small explanations about as +important as the surplus stock of false antiquities kept in a vendors +back chamber, having first got this adorable young creature to marry +him, and then passing his honeymoon away from her, groping after his +mouldy futilities (Will was given to hyperbole)this sudden picture +stirred him with a sort of comic disgust: he was divided between the +impulse to laugh aloud and the equally unseasonable impulse to burst +into scornful invective. + +For an instant he felt that the struggle was causing a queer contortion +of his mobile features, but with a good effort he resolved it into +nothing more offensive than a merry smile. + +Dorothea wondered; but the smile was irresistible, and shone back from +her face too. Will Ladislaws smile was delightful, unless you were +angry with him beforehand: it was a gush of inward light illuminating +the transparent skin as well as the eyes, and playing about every curve +and line as if some Ariel were touching them with a new charm, and +banishing forever the traces of moodiness. The reflection of that smile +could not but have a little merriment in it too, even under dark +eyelashes still moist, as Dorothea said inquiringly, Something amuses +you? + +Yes, said Will, quick in finding resources. I am thinking of the +sort of figure I cut the first time I saw you, when you annihilated my +poor sketch with your criticism. + +My criticism? said Dorothea, wondering still more. Surely not. I +always feel particularly ignorant about painting. + +I suspected you of knowing so much, that you knew how to say just what +was most cutting. You saidI dare say you dont remember it as I +dothat the relation of my sketch to nature was quite hidden from you. +At least, you implied that. Will could laugh now as well as smile. + +That was really my ignorance, said Dorothea, admiring Wills +good-humor. I must have said so only because I never could see any +beauty in the pictures which my uncle told me all judges thought very +fine. And I have gone about with just the same ignorance in Rome. There +are comparatively few paintings that I can really enjoy. At first when +I enter a room where the walls are covered with frescos, or with rare +pictures, I feel a kind of awelike a child present at great ceremonies +where there are grand robes and processions; I feel myself in the +presence of some higher life than my own. But when I begin to examine +the pictures one by one the life goes out of them, or else is something +violent and strange to me. It must be my own dulness. I am seeing so +much all at once, and not understanding half of it. That always makes +one feel stupid. It is painful to be told that anything is very fine +and not be able to feel that it is finesomething like being blind, +while people talk of the sky. + +Oh, there is a great deal in the feeling for art which must be +acquired, said Will. (It was impossible now to doubt the directness of +Dorotheas confession.) Art is an old language with a great many +artificial affected styles, and sometimes the chief pleasure one gets +out of knowing them is the mere sense of knowing. I enjoy the art of +all sorts here immensely; but I suppose if I could pick my enjoyment to +pieces I should find it made up of many different threads. There is +something in daubing a little ones self, and having an idea of the +process. + +You mean perhaps to be a painter? said Dorothea, with a new direction +of interest. You mean to make painting your profession? Mr. Casaubon +will like to hear that you have chosen a profession. + +No, oh no, said Will, with some coldness. I have quite made up my +mind against it. It is too one-sided a life. I have been seeing a great +deal of the German artists here: I travelled from Frankfort with one of +them. Some are fine, even brilliant fellowsbut I should not like to +get into their way of looking at the world entirely from the studio +point of view. + +That I can understand, said Dorothea, cordially. And in Rome it +seems as if there were so many things which are more wanted in the +world than pictures. But if you have a genius for painting, would it +not be right to take that as a guide? Perhaps you might do better +things than theseor different, so that there might not be so many +pictures almost all alike in the same place. + +There was no mistaking this simplicity, and Will was won by it into +frankness. A man must have a very rare genius to make changes of that +sort. I am afraid mine would not carry me even to the pitch of doing +well what has been done already, at least not so well as to make it +worth while. And I should never succeed in anything by dint of +drudgery. If things dont come easily to me I never get them. + +I have heard Mr. Casaubon say that he regrets your want of patience, +said Dorothea, gently. She was rather shocked at this mode of taking +all life as a holiday. + +Yes, I know Mr. Casaubons opinion. He and I differ. + +The slight streak of contempt in this hasty reply offended Dorothea. +She was all the more susceptible about Mr. Casaubon because of her +mornings trouble. + +Certainly you differ, she said, rather proudly. I did not think of +comparing you: such power of persevering devoted labor as Mr. +Casaubons is not common. + +Will saw that she was offended, but this only gave an additional +impulse to the new irritation of his latent dislike towards Mr. +Casaubon. It was too intolerable that Dorothea should be worshipping +this husband: such weakness in a woman is pleasant to no man but the +husband in question. Mortals are easily tempted to pinch the life out +of their neighbors buzzing glory, and think that such killing is no +murder. + +No, indeed, he answered, promptly. And therefore it is a pity that +it should be thrown away, as so much English scholarship is, for want +of knowing what is being done by the rest of the world. If Mr. Casaubon +read German he would save himself a great deal of trouble. + +I do not understand you, said Dorothea, startled and anxious. + +I merely mean, said Will, in an offhand way, that the Germans have +taken the lead in historical inquiries, and they laugh at results which +are got by groping about in woods with a pocket-compass while they have +made good roads. When I was with Mr. Casaubon I saw that he deafened +himself in that direction: it was almost against his will that he read +a Latin treatise written by a German. I was very sorry. + +Will only thought of giving a good pinch that would annihilate that +vaunted laboriousness, and was unable to imagine the mode in which +Dorothea would be wounded. Young Mr. Ladislaw was not at all deep +himself in German writers; but very little achievement is required in +order to pity another mans shortcomings. + +Poor Dorothea felt a pang at the thought that the labor of her +husbands life might be void, which left her no energy to spare for the +question whether this young relative who was so much obliged to him +ought not to have repressed his observation. She did not even speak, +but sat looking at her hands, absorbed in the piteousness of that +thought. + +Will, however, having given that annihilating pinch, was rather +ashamed, imagining from Dorotheas silence that he had offended her +still more; and having also a conscience about plucking the +tail-feathers from a benefactor. + +I regretted it especially, he resumed, taking the usual course from +detraction to insincere eulogy, because of my gratitude and respect +towards my cousin. It would not signify so much in a man whose talents +and character were less distinguished. + +Dorothea raised her eyes, brighter than usual with excited feeling, and +said in her saddest recitative, How I wish I had learned German when I +was at Lausanne! There were plenty of German teachers. But now I can be +of no use. + +There was a new light, but still a mysterious light, for Will in +Dorotheas last words. The question how she had come to accept Mr. +Casaubonwhich he had dismissed when he first saw her by saying that +she must be disagreeable in spite of appearanceswas not now to be +answered on any such short and easy method. Whatever else she might be, +she was not disagreeable. She was not coldly clever and indirectly +satirical, but adorably simple and full of feeling. She was an angel +beguiled. It would be a unique delight to wait and watch for the +melodious fragments in which her heart and soul came forth so directly +and ingenuously. The Aeolian harp again came into his mind. + +She must have made some original romance for herself in this marriage. +And if Mr. Casaubon had been a dragon who had carried her off to his +lair with his talons simply and without legal forms, it would have been +an unavoidable feat of heroism to release her and fall at her feet. But +he was something more unmanageable than a dragon: he was a benefactor +with collective society at his back, and he was at that moment entering +the room in all the unimpeachable correctness of his demeanor, while +Dorothea was looking animated with a newly roused alarm and regret, and +Will was looking animated with his admiring speculation about her +feelings. + +Mr. Casaubon felt a surprise which was quite unmixed with pleasure, but +he did not swerve from his usual politeness of greeting, when Will rose +and explained his presence. Mr. Casaubon was less happy than usual, and +this perhaps made him look all the dimmer and more faded; else, the +effect might easily have been produced by the contrast of his young +cousins appearance. The first impression on seeing Will was one of +sunny brightness, which added to the uncertainty of his changing +expression. Surely, his very features changed their form, his jaw +looked sometimes large and sometimes small; and the little ripple in +his nose was a preparation for metamorphosis. When he turned his head +quickly his hair seemed to shake out light, and some persons thought +they saw decided genius in this coruscation. Mr. Casaubon, on the +contrary, stood rayless. + +As Dorotheas eyes were turned anxiously on her husband she was perhaps +not insensible to the contrast, but it was only mingled with other +causes in making her more conscious of that new alarm on his behalf +which was the first stirring of a pitying tenderness fed by the +realities of his lot and not by her own dreams. Yet it was a source of +greater freedom to her that Will was there; his young equality was +agreeable, and also perhaps his openness to conviction. She felt an +immense need of some one to speak to, and she had never before seen any +one who seemed so quick and pliable, so likely to understand +everything. + +Mr. Casaubon gravely hoped that Will was passing his time profitably as +well as pleasantly in Romehad thought his intention was to remain in +South Germanybut begged him to come and dine to-morrow, when he could +converse more at large: at present he was somewhat weary. Ladislaw +understood, and accepting the invitation immediately took his leave. + +Dorotheas eyes followed her husband anxiously, while he sank down +wearily at the end of a sofa, and resting his elbow supported his head +and looked on the floor. A little flushed, and with bright eyes, she +seated herself beside him, and said + +Forgive me for speaking so hastily to you this morning. I was wrong. I +fear I hurt you and made the day more burdensome. + +I am glad that you feel that, my dear, said Mr. Casaubon. He spoke +quietly and bowed his head a little, but there was still an uneasy +feeling in his eyes as he looked at her. + +But you do forgive me? said Dorothea, with a quick sob. In her need +for some manifestation of feeling she was ready to exaggerate her own +fault. Would not love see returning penitence afar off, and fall on its +neck and kiss it? + +My dear Dorotheawho with repentance is not satisfied, is not of +heaven nor earth:you do not think me worthy to be banished by that +severe sentence, said Mr. Casaubon, exerting himself to make a strong +statement, and also to smile faintly. + +Dorothea was silent, but a tear which had come up with the sob would +insist on falling. + +You are excited, my dear. And I also am feeling some unpleasant +consequences of too much mental disturbance, said Mr. Casaubon. In +fact, he had it in his thought to tell her that she ought not to have +received young Ladislaw in his absence: but he abstained, partly from +the sense that it would be ungracious to bring a new complaint in the +moment of her penitent acknowledgment, partly because he wanted to +avoid further agitation of himself by speech, and partly because he was +too proud to betray that jealousy of disposition which was not so +exhausted on his scholarly compeers that there was none to spare in +other directions. There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little +fire: it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp +despondency of uneasy egoism. + +I think it is time for us to dress, he added, looking at his watch. +They both rose, and there was never any further allusion between them +to what had passed on this day. + +But Dorothea remembered it to the last with the vividness with which we +all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, +or some new motive is born. Today she had begun to see that she had +been under a wild illusion in expecting a response to her feeling from +Mr. Casaubon, and she had felt the waking of a presentiment that there +might be a sad consciousness in his life which made as great a need on +his side as on her own. + +We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder +to feed our supreme selves: Dorothea had early begun to emerge from +that stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she +would devote herself to Mr. Casaubon, and become wise and strong in his +strength and wisdom, than to conceive with that distinctness which is +no longer reflection but feelingan idea wrought back to the directness +of sense, like the solidity of objectsthat he had an equivalent centre +of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain +difference. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +Nous cusames longtemps; elle tait simple et bonne. +Ne sachant pas le mal, elle faisait le bien; +Des richesses du coeur elle me fit laumne, +Et tout en coutant comme le coeur se donne, +Sans oser y penser je lui donnai le mien; +Elle emporta ma vie, et nen sut jamais rien. +ALFRED DE MUSSET. + + +Will Ladislaw was delightfully agreeable at dinner the next day, and +gave no opportunity for Mr. Casaubon to show disapprobation. On the +contrary it seemed to Dorothea that Will had a happier way of drawing +her husband into conversation and of deferentially listening to him +than she had ever observed in any one before. To be sure, the listeners +about Tipton were not highly gifted! Will talked a good deal himself, +but what he said was thrown in with such rapidity, and with such an +unimportant air of saying something by the way, that it seemed a gay +little chime after the great bell. If Will was not always perfect, this +was certainly one of his good days. He described touches of incident +among the poor people in Rome, only to be seen by one who could move +about freely; he found himself in agreement with Mr. Casaubon as to the +unsound opinions of Middleton concerning the relations of Judaism and +Catholicism; and passed easily to a half-enthusiastic half-playful +picture of the enjoyment he got out of the very miscellaneousness of +Rome, which made the mind flexible with constant comparison, and saved +you from seeing the worlds ages as a set of box-like partitions +without vital connection. Mr. Casaubons studies, Will observed, had +always been of too broad a kind for that, and he had perhaps never felt +any such sudden effect, but for himself he confessed that Rome had +given him quite a new sense of history as a whole: the fragments +stimulated his imagination and made him constructive. Then +occasionally, but not too often, he appealed to Dorothea, and discussed +what she said, as if her sentiment were an item to be considered in the +final judgment even of the Madonna di Foligno or the Laocoon. A sense +of contributing to form the worlds opinion makes conversation +particularly cheerful; and Mr. Casaubon too was not without his pride +in his young wife, who spoke better than most women, as indeed he had +perceived in choosing her. + +Since things were going on so pleasantly, Mr. Casaubons statement that +his labors in the Library would be suspended for a couple of days, and +that after a brief renewal he should have no further reason for staying +in Rome, encouraged Will to urge that Mrs. Casaubon should not go away +without seeing a studio or two. Would not Mr. Casaubon take her? That +sort of thing ought not to be missed: it was quite special: it was a +form of life that grew like a small fresh vegetation with its +population of insects on huge fossils. Will would be happy to conduct +themnot to anything wearisome, only to a few examples. + +Mr. Casaubon, seeing Dorothea look earnestly towards him, could not but +ask her if she would be interested in such visits: he was now at her +service during the whole day; and it was agreed that Will should come +on the morrow and drive with them. + +Will could not omit Thorwaldsen, a living celebrity about whom even Mr. +Casaubon inquired, but before the day was far advanced he led the way +to the studio of his friend Adolf Naumann, whom he mentioned as one of +the chief renovators of Christian art, one of those who had not only +revived but expanded that grand conception of supreme events as +mysteries at which the successive ages were spectators, and in relation +to which the great souls of all periods became as it were +contemporaries. Will added that he had made himself Naumanns pupil for +the nonce. + +I have been making some oil-sketches under him, said Will. I hate +copying. I must put something of my own in. Naumann has been painting +the Saints drawing the Car of the Church, and I have been making a +sketch of Marlowes Tamburlaine Driving the Conquered Kings in his +Chariot. I am not so ecclesiastical as Naumann, and I sometimes twit +him with his excess of meaning. But this time I mean to outdo him in +breadth of intention. I take Tamburlaine in his chariot for the +tremendous course of the worlds physical history lashing on the +harnessed dynasties. In my opinion, that is a good mythical +interpretation. Will here looked at Mr. Casaubon, who received this +offhand treatment of symbolism very uneasily, and bowed with a neutral +air. + +The sketch must be very grand, if it conveys so much, said Dorothea. +I should need some explanation even of the meaning you give. Do you +intend Tamburlaine to represent earthquakes and volcanoes? + +Oh yes, said Will, laughing, and migrations of races and clearings +of forestsand America and the steam-engine. Everything you can +imagine! + +What a difficult kind of shorthand! said Dorothea, smiling towards +her husband. It would require all your knowledge to be able to read +it. + +Mr. Casaubon blinked furtively at Will. He had a suspicion that he was +being laughed at. But it was not possible to include Dorothea in the +suspicion. + +They found Naumann painting industriously, but no model was present; +his pictures were advantageously arranged, and his own plain vivacious +person set off by a dove-colored blouse and a maroon velvet cap, so +that everything was as fortunate as if he had expected the beautiful +young English lady exactly at that time. + +The painter in his confident English gave little dissertations on his +finished and unfinished subjects, seeming to observe Mr. Casaubon as +much as he did Dorothea. Will burst in here and there with ardent words +of praise, marking out particular merits in his friends work; and +Dorothea felt that she was getting quite new notions as to the +significance of Madonnas seated under inexplicable canopied thrones +with the simple country as a background, and of saints with +architectural models in their hands, or knives accidentally wedged in +their skulls. Some things which had seemed monstrous to her were +gathering intelligibility and even a natural meaning: but all this was +apparently a branch of knowledge in which Mr. Casaubon had not +interested himself. + +I think I would rather feel that painting is beautiful than have to +read it as an enigma; but I should learn to understand these pictures +sooner than yours with the very wide meaning, said Dorothea, speaking +to Will. + +Dont speak of my painting before Naumann, said Will. He will tell +you, it is all _pfuscherei_, which is his most opprobrious word! + +Is that true? said Dorothea, turning her sincere eyes on Naumann, who +made a slight grimace and said + +Oh, he does not mean it seriously with painting. His walk must be +_belles-lettres_. That is wi-ide. + +Naumanns pronunciation of the vowel seemed to stretch the word +satirically. Will did not half like it, but managed to laugh: and Mr. +Casaubon, while he felt some disgust at the artists German accent, +began to entertain a little respect for his judicious severity. + +The respect was not diminished when Naumann, after drawing Will aside +for a moment and looking, first at a large canvas, then at Mr. +Casaubon, came forward again and said + +My friend Ladislaw thinks you will pardon me, sir, if I say that a +sketch of your head would be invaluable to me for the St. Thomas +Aquinas in my picture there. It is too much to ask; but I so seldom see +just what I wantthe idealistic in the real. + +You astonish me greatly, sir, said Mr. Casaubon, his looks improved +with a glow of delight; but if my poor physiognomy, which I have been +accustomed to regard as of the commonest order, can be of any use to +you in furnishing some traits for the angelical doctor, I shall feel +honored. That is to say, if the operation will not be a lengthy one; +and if Mrs. Casaubon will not object to the delay. + +As for Dorothea, nothing could have pleased her more, unless it had +been a miraculous voice pronouncing Mr. Casaubon the wisest and +worthiest among the sons of men. In that case her tottering faith would +have become firm again. + +Naumanns apparatus was at hand in wonderful completeness, and the +sketch went on at once as well as the conversation. Dorothea sat down +and subsided into calm silence, feeling happier than she had done for a +long while before. Every one about her seemed good, and she said to +herself that Rome, if she had only been less ignorant, would have been +full of beauty: its sadness would have been winged with hope. No nature +could be less suspicious than hers: when she was a child she believed +in the gratitude of wasps and the honorable susceptibility of sparrows, +and was proportionately indignant when their baseness was made +manifest. + +The adroit artist was asking Mr. Casaubon questions about English +polities, which brought long answers, and, Will meanwhile had perched +himself on some steps in the background overlooking all. + +Presently Naumann saidNow if I could lay this by for half an hour and +take it up againcome and look, LadislawI think it is perfect so far. + +Will vented those adjuring interjections which imply that admiration is +too strong for syntax; and Naumann said in a tone of piteous regret + +Ahnowif I could but have had morebut you have other engagementsI +could not ask itor even to come again to-morrow. + +Oh, let us stay! said Dorothea. We have nothing to do to-day except +go about, have we? she added, looking entreatingly at Mr. Casaubon. +It would be a pity not to make the head as good as possible. + +I am at your service, sir, in the matter, said Mr. Casaubon, with +polite condescension. Having given up the interior of my head to +idleness, it is as well that the exterior should work in this way. + +You are unspeakably goodnow I am happy! said Naumann, and then went +on in German to Will, pointing here and there to the sketch as if he +were considering that. Putting it aside for a moment, he looked round +vaguely, as if seeking some occupation for his visitors, and afterwards +turning to Mr. Casaubon, said + +Perhaps the beautiful bride, the gracious lady, would not be unwilling +to let me fill up the time by trying to make a slight sketch of +hernot, of course, as you see, for that pictureonly as a single +study. + +Mr. Casaubon, bowing, doubted not that Mrs. Casaubon would oblige him, +and Dorothea said, at once, Where shall I put myself? + +Naumann was all apologies in asking her to stand, and allow him to +adjust her attitude, to which she submitted without any of the affected +airs and laughs frequently thought necessary on such occasions, when +the painter said, It is as Santa Clara that I want you to +standleaning so, with your cheek against your handsolooking at that +stool, please, so! + +Will was divided between the inclination to fall at the Saints feet +and kiss her robe, and the temptation to knock Naumann down while he +was adjusting her arm. All this was impudence and desecration, and he +repented that he had brought her. + +The artist was diligent, and Will recovering himself moved about and +occupied Mr. Casaubon as ingeniously as he could; but he did not in the +end prevent the time from seeming long to that gentleman, as was clear +from his expressing a fear that Mrs. Casaubon would be tired. Naumann +took the hint and said + +Now, sir, if you can oblige me again; I will release the lady-wife. + +So Mr. Casaubons patience held out further, and when after all it +turned out that the head of Saint Thomas Aquinas would be more perfect +if another sitting could be had, it was granted for the morrow. On the +morrow Santa Clara too was retouched more than once. The result of all +was so far from displeasing to Mr. Casaubon, that he arranged for the +purchase of the picture in which Saint Thomas Aquinas sat among the +doctors of the Church in a disputation too abstract to be represented, +but listened to with more or less attention by an audience above. The +Santa Clara, which was spoken of in the second place, Naumann declared +himself to be dissatisfied withhe could not, in conscience, engage to +make a worthy picture of it; so about the Santa Clara the arrangement +was conditional. + +I will not dwell on Naumanns jokes at the expense of Mr. Casaubon that +evening, or on his dithyrambs about Dorotheas charm, in all which Will +joined, but with a difference. No sooner did Naumann mention any detail +of Dorotheas beauty, than Will got exasperated at his presumption: +there was grossness in his choice of the most ordinary words, and what +business had he to talk of her lips? She was not a woman to be spoken +of as other women were. Will could not say just what he thought, but he +became irritable. And yet, when after some resistance he had consented +to take the Casaubons to his friends studio, he had been allured by +the gratification of his pride in being the person who could grant +Naumann such an opportunity of studying her lovelinessor rather her +divineness, for the ordinary phrases which might apply to mere bodily +prettiness were not applicable to her. (Certainly all Tipton and its +neighborhood, as well as Dorothea herself, would have been surprised at +her beauty being made so much of. In that part of the world Miss Brooke +had been only a fine young woman.) + +Oblige me by letting the subject drop, Naumann. Mrs. Casaubon is not +to be talked of as if she were a model, said Will. Naumann stared at +him. + +Schn! I will talk of my Aquinas. The head is not a bad type, after +all. I dare say the great scholastic himself would have been flattered +to have his portrait asked for. Nothing like these starchy doctors for +vanity! It was as I thought: he cared much less for her portrait than +his own. + +Hes a cursed white-blooded pedantic coxcomb, said Will, with +gnashing impetuosity. His obligations to Mr. Casaubon were not known to +his hearer, but Will himself was thinking of them, and wishing that he +could discharge them all by a check. + +Naumann gave a shrug and said, It is good they go away soon, my dear. +They are spoiling your fine temper. + +All Wills hope and contrivance were now concentrated on seeing +Dorothea when she was alone. He only wanted her to take more emphatic +notice of him; he only wanted to be something more special in her +remembrance than he could yet believe himself likely to be. He was +rather impatient under that open ardent good-will, which he saw was her +usual state of feeling. The remote worship of a woman throned out of +their reach plays a great part in mens lives, but in most cases the +worshipper longs for some queenly recognition, some approving sign by +which his souls sovereign may cheer him without descending from her +high place. That was precisely what Will wanted. But there were plenty +of contradictions in his imaginative demands. It was beautiful to see +how Dorotheas eyes turned with wifely anxiety and beseeching to Mr. +Casaubon: she would have lost some of her halo if she had been without +that duteous preoccupation; and yet at the next moment the husbands +sandy absorption of such nectar was too intolerable; and Wills longing +to say damaging things about him was perhaps not the less tormenting +because he felt the strongest reasons for restraining it. + +Will had not been invited to dine the next day. Hence he persuaded +himself that he was bound to call, and that the only eligible time was +the middle of the day, when Mr. Casaubon would not be at home. + +Dorothea, who had not been made aware that her former reception of Will +had displeased her husband, had no hesitation about seeing him, +especially as he might be come to pay a farewell visit. When he entered +she was looking at some cameos which she had been buying for Celia. She +greeted Will as if his visit were quite a matter of course, and said at +once, having a cameo bracelet in her hand + +I am so glad you are come. Perhaps you understand all about cameos, +and can tell me if these are really good. I wished to have you with us +in choosing them, but Mr. Casaubon objected: he thought there was not +time. He will finish his work to-morrow, and we shall go away in three +days. I have been uneasy about these cameos. Pray sit down and look at +them. + +I am not particularly knowing, but there can be no great mistake about +these little Homeric bits: they are exquisitely neat. And the color is +fine: it will just suit you. + +Oh, they are for my sister, who has quite a different complexion. You +saw her with me at Lowick: she is light-haired and very prettyat least +I think so. We were never so long away from each other in our lives +before. She is a great pet and never was naughty in her life. I found +out before I came away that she wanted me to buy her some cameos, and I +should be sorry for them not to be goodafter their kind. Dorothea +added the last words with a smile. + +You seem not to care about cameos, said Will, seating himself at some +distance from her, and observing her while she closed the cases. + +No, frankly, I dont think them a great object in life, said +Dorothea. + +I fear you are a heretic about art generally. How is that? I should +have expected you to be very sensitive to the beautiful everywhere. + +I suppose I am dull about many things, said Dorothea, simply. I +should like to make life beautifulI mean everybodys life. And then +all this immense expense of art, that seems somehow to lie outside life +and make it no better for the world, pains one. It spoils my enjoyment +of anything when I am made to think that most people are shut out from +it. + +I call that the fanaticism of sympathy, said Will, impetuously. You +might say the same of landscape, of poetry, of all refinement. If you +carried it out you ought to be miserable in your own goodness, and turn +evil that you might have no advantage over others. The best piety is to +enjoywhen you can. You are doing the most then to save the earths +character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates. It is of no +use to try and take care of all the world; that is being taken care of +when you feel delightin art or in anything else. Would you turn all +the youth of the world into a tragic chorus, wailing and moralizing +over misery? I suspect that you have some false belief in the virtues +of misery, and want to make your life a martyrdom. Will had gone +further than he intended, and checked himself. But Dorotheas thought +was not taking just the same direction as his own, and she answered +without any special emotion + +Indeed you mistake me. I am not a sad, melancholy creature. I am never +unhappy long together. I am angry and naughtynot like Celia: I have a +great outburst, and then all seems glorious again. I cannot help +believing in glorious things in a blind sort of way. I should be quite +willing to enjoy the art here, but there is so much that I dont know +the reason ofso much that seems to me a consecration of ugliness +rather than beauty. The painting and sculpture may be wonderful, but +the feeling is often low and brutal, and sometimes even ridiculous. +Here and there I see what takes me at once as noblesomething that I +might compare with the Alban Mountains or the sunset from the Pincian +Hill; but that makes it the greater pity that there is so little of the +best kind among all that mass of things over which men have toiled so. + +Of course there is always a great deal of poor work: the rarer things +want that soil to grow in. + +Oh dear, said Dorothea, taking up that thought into the chief current +of her anxiety; I see it must be very difficult to do anything good. I +have often felt since I have been in Rome that most of our lives would +look much uglier and more bungling than the pictures, if they could be +put on the wall. + +Dorothea parted her lips again as if she were going to say more, but +changed her mind and paused. + +You are too youngit is an anachronism for you to have such thoughts, +said Will, energetically, with a quick shake of the head habitual to +him. You talk as if you had never known any youth. It is monstrousas +if you had had a vision of Hades in your childhood, like the boy in the +legend. You have been brought up in some of those horrible notions that +choose the sweetest women to devourlike Minotaurs. And now you will go +and be shut up in that stone prison at Lowick: you will be buried +alive. It makes me savage to think of it! I would rather never have +seen you than think of you with such a prospect. + +Will again feared that he had gone too far; but the meaning we attach +to words depends on our feeling, and his tone of angry regret had so +much kindness in it for Dorotheas heart, which had always been giving +out ardor and had never been fed with much from the living beings +around her, that she felt a new sense of gratitude and answered with a +gentle smile + +It is very good of you to be anxious about me. It is because you did +not like Lowick yourself: you had set your heart on another kind of +life. But Lowick is my chosen home. + +The last sentence was spoken with an almost solemn cadence, and Will +did not know what to say, since it would not be useful for him to +embrace her slippers, and tell her that he would die for her: it was +clear that she required nothing of the sort; and they were both silent +for a moment or two, when Dorothea began again with an air of saying at +last what had been in her mind beforehand. + +I wanted to ask you again about something you said the other day. +Perhaps it was half of it your lively way of speaking: I notice that +you like to put things strongly; I myself often exaggerate when I speak +hastily. + +What was it? said Will, observing that she spoke with a timidity +quite new in her. I have a hyperbolical tongue: it catches fire as it +goes. I dare say I shall have to retract. + +I mean what you said about the necessity of knowing GermanI mean, for +the subjects that Mr. Casaubon is engaged in. I have been thinking +about it; and it seems to me that with Mr. Casaubons learning he must +have before him the same materials as German scholarshas he not? +Dorotheas timidity was due to an indistinct consciousness that she was +in the strange situation of consulting a third person about the +adequacy of Mr. Casaubons learning. + +Not exactly the same materials, said Will, thinking that he would be +duly reserved. He is not an Orientalist, you know. He does not profess +to have more than second-hand knowledge there. + +But there are very valuable books about antiquities which were written +a long while ago by scholars who knew nothing about these modern +things; and they are still used. Why should Mr. Casaubons not be +valuable, like theirs? said Dorothea, with more remonstrant energy. +She was impelled to have the argument aloud, which she had been having +in her own mind. + +That depends on the line of study taken, said Will, also getting a +tone of rejoinder. The subject Mr. Casaubon has chosen is as changing +as chemistry: new discoveries are constantly making new points of view. +Who wants a system on the basis of the four elements, or a book to +refute Paracelsus? Do you not see that it is no use now to be crawling +a little way after men of the last centurymen like Bryantand +correcting their mistakes?living in a lumber-room and furbishing up +broken-legged theories about Chus and Mizraim? + +How can you bear to speak so lightly? said Dorothea, with a look +between sorrow and anger. If it were as you say, what could be sadder +than so much ardent labor all in vain? I wonder it does not affect you +more painfully, if you really think that a man like Mr. Casaubon, of so +much goodness, power, and learning, should in any way fail in what has +been the labor of his best years. She was beginning to be shocked that +she had got to such a point of supposition, and indignant with Will for +having led her to it. + +You questioned me about the matter of fact, not of feeling, said +Will. But if you wish to punish me for the fact, I submit. I am not in +a position to express my feeling toward Mr. Casaubon: it would be at +best a pensioners eulogy. + +Pray excuse me, said Dorothea, coloring deeply. I am aware, as you +say, that I am in fault in having introduced the subject. Indeed, I am +wrong altogether. Failure after long perseverance is much grander than +never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure. + +I quite agree with you, said Will, determined to change the +situationso much so that I have made up my mind not to run that risk +of never attaining a failure. Mr. Casaubons generosity has perhaps +been dangerous to me, and I mean to renounce the liberty it has given +me. I mean to go back to England shortly and work my own waydepend on +nobody else than myself. + +That is fineI respect that feeling, said Dorothea, with returning +kindness. But Mr. Casaubon, I am sure, has never thought of anything +in the matter except what was most for your welfare. + +She has obstinacy and pride enough to serve instead of love, now she +has married him, said Will to himself. Aloud he said, rising + +I shall not see you again. + +Oh, stay till Mr. Casaubon comes, said Dorothea, earnestly. I am so +glad we met in Rome. I wanted to know you. + +And I have made you angry, said Will. I have made you think ill of +me. + +Oh no. My sister tells me I am always angry with people who do not say +just what I like. But I hope I am not given to think ill of them. In +the end I am usually obliged to think ill of myself for being so +impatient. + +Still, you dont like me; I have made myself an unpleasant thought to +you. + +Not at all, said Dorothea, with the most open kindness. I like you +very much. + +Will was not quite contented, thinking that he would apparently have +been of more importance if he had been disliked. He said nothing, but +looked dull, not to say sulky. + +And I am quite interested to see what you will do, Dorothea went on +cheerfully. I believe devoutly in a natural difference of vocation. If +it were not for that belief, I suppose I should be very narrowthere +are so many things, besides painting, that I am quite ignorant of. You +would hardly believe how little I have taken in of music and +literature, which you know so much of. I wonder what your vocation will +turn out to be: perhaps you will be a poet? + +That depends. To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern that +no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment +is but a hand playing with finely ordered variety on the chords of +emotiona soul in which knowledge passes instantaneously into feeling, +and feeling flashes back as a new organ of knowledge. One may have that +condition by fits only. + +But you leave out the poems, said Dorothea. I think they are wanted +to complete the poet. I understand what you mean about knowledge +passing into feeling, for that seems to be just what I experience. But +I am sure I could never produce a poem. + +You _are_ a poemand that is to be the best part of a poetwhat makes +up the poets consciousness in his best moods, said Will, showing such +originality as we all share with the morning and the spring-time and +other endless renewals. + +I am very glad to hear it, said Dorothea, laughing out her words in a +bird-like modulation, and looking at Will with playful gratitude in her +eyes. What very kind things you say to me! + +I wish I could ever do anything that would be what you call kindthat +I could ever be of the slightest service to you. I fear I shall never +have the opportunity. Will spoke with fervor. + +Oh yes, said Dorothea, cordially. It will come; and I shall remember +how well you wish me. I quite hoped that we should be friends when I +first saw youbecause of your relationship to Mr. Casaubon. There was +a certain liquid brightness in her eyes, and Will was conscious that +his own were obeying a law of nature and filling too. The allusion to +Mr. Casaubon would have spoiled all if anything at that moment could +have spoiled the subduing power, the sweet dignity, of her noble +unsuspicious inexperience. + +And there is one thing even now that you can do, said Dorothea, +rising and walking a little way under the strength of a recurring +impulse. Promise me that you will not again, to any one, speak of that +subjectI mean about Mr. Casaubons writingsI mean in that kind of +way. It was I who led to it. It was my fault. But promise me. + +She had returned from her brief pacing and stood opposite Will, looking +gravely at him. + +Certainly, I will promise you, said Will, reddening however. If he +never said a cutting word about Mr. Casaubon again and left off +receiving favors from him, it would clearly be permissible to hate him +the more. The poet must know how to hate, says Goethe; and Will was at +least ready with that accomplishment. He said that he must go now +without waiting for Mr. Casaubon, whom he would come to take leave of +at the last moment. Dorothea gave him her hand, and they exchanged a +simple Good-by. + +But going out of the _porte cochere_ he met Mr. Casaubon, and that +gentleman, expressing the best wishes for his cousin, politely waived +the pleasure of any further leave-taking on the morrow, which would be +sufficiently crowded with the preparations for departure. + +I have something to tell you about our cousin Mr. Ladislaw, which I +think will heighten your opinion of him, said Dorothea to her husband +in the course of the evening. She had mentioned immediately on his +entering that Will had just gone away, and would come again, but Mr. +Casaubon had said, I met him outside, and we made our final adieux, I +believe, saying this with the air and tone by which we imply that any +subject, whether private or public, does not interest us enough to wish +for a further remark upon it. So Dorothea had waited. + +What is that, my love? said Mr Casaubon (he always said my love +when his manner was the coldest). + +He has made up his mind to leave off wandering at once, and to give up +his dependence on your generosity. He means soon to go back to England, +and work his own way. I thought you would consider that a good sign, +said Dorothea, with an appealing look into her husbands neutral face. + +Did he mention the precise order of occupation to which he would +addict himself? + +No. But he said that he felt the danger which lay for him in your +generosity. Of course he will write to you about it. Do you not think +better of him for his resolve? + +I shall await his communication on the subject, said Mr. Casaubon. + +I told him I was sure that the thing you considered in all you did for +him was his own welfare. I remembered your goodness in what you said +about him when I first saw him at Lowick, said Dorothea, putting her +hand on her husbands. + +I had a duty towards him, said Mr. Casaubon, laying his other hand on +Dorotheas in conscientious acceptance of her caress, but with a glance +which he could not hinder from being uneasy. The young man, I confess, +is not otherwise an object of interest to me, nor need we, I think, +discuss his future course, which it is not ours to determine beyond the +limits which I have sufficiently indicated. Dorothea did not mention +Will again. + + + + +BOOK III. +WAITING FOR DEATH. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +Your horses of the Sun, he said, + And first-rate whip Apollo! +Whateer they be, Ill eat my head, + But I will beat them hollow. + + +Fred Vincy, we have seen, had a debt on his mind, and though no such +immaterial burthen could depress that buoyant-hearted young gentleman +for many hours together, there were circumstances connected with this +debt which made the thought of it unusually importunate. The creditor +was Mr. Bambridge, a horse-dealer of the neighborhood, whose company +was much sought in Middlemarch by young men understood to be addicted +to pleasure. During the vacations Fred had naturally required more +amusements than he had ready money for, and Mr. Bambridge had been +accommodating enough not only to trust him for the hire of horses and +the accidental expense of ruining a fine hunter, but also to make a +small advance by which he might be able to meet some losses at +billiards. The total debt was a hundred and sixty pounds. Bambridge was +in no alarm about his money, being sure that young Vincy had backers; +but he had required something to show for it, and Fred had at first +given a bill with his own signature. Three months later he had renewed +this bill with the signature of Caleb Garth. On both occasions Fred had +felt confident that he should meet the bill himself, having ample funds +at disposal in his own hopefulness. You will hardly demand that his +confidence should have a basis in external facts; such confidence, we +know, is something less coarse and materialistic: it is a comfortable +disposition leading us to expect that the wisdom of providence or the +folly of our friends, the mysteries of luck or the still greater +mystery of our high individual value in the universe, will bring about +agreeable issues, such as are consistent with our good taste in +costume, and our general preference for the best style of thing. Fred +felt sure that he should have a present from his uncle, that he should +have a run of luck, that by dint of swapping he should gradually +metamorphose a horse worth forty pounds into a horse that would fetch a +hundred at any momentjudgment being always equivalent to an +unspecified sum in hard cash. And in any case, even supposing negations +which only a morbid distrust could imagine, Fred had always (at that +time) his fathers pocket as a last resource, so that his assets of +hopefulness had a sort of gorgeous superfluity about them. Of what +might be the capacity of his fathers pocket, Fred had only a vague +notion: was not trade elastic? And would not the deficiencies of one +year be made up for by the surplus of another? The Vincys lived in an +easy profuse way, not with any new ostentation, but according to the +family habits and traditions, so that the children had no standard of +economy, and the elder ones retained some of their infantine notion +that their father might pay for anything if he would. Mr. Vincy himself +had expensive Middlemarch habitsspent money on coursing, on his +cellar, and on dinner-giving, while mamma had those running accounts +with tradespeople, which give a cheerful sense of getting everything +one wants without any question of payment. But it was in the nature of +fathers, Fred knew, to bully one about expenses: there was always a +little storm over his extravagance if he had to disclose a debt, and +Fred disliked bad weather within doors. He was too filial to be +disrespectful to his father, and he bore the thunder with the certainty +that it was transient; but in the mean time it was disagreeable to see +his mother cry, and also to be obliged to look sulky instead of having +fun; for Fred was so good-tempered that if he looked glum under +scolding, it was chiefly for proprietys sake. The easier course +plainly, was to renew the bill with a friends signature. Why not? With +the superfluous securities of hope at his command, there was no reason +why he should not have increased other peoples liabilities to any +extent, but for the fact that men whose names were good for anything +were usually pessimists, indisposed to believe that the universal order +of things would necessarily be agreeable to an agreeable young +gentleman. + +With a favor to ask we review our list of friends, do justice to their +more amiable qualities, forgive their little offenses, and concerning +each in turn, try to arrive at the conclusion that he will be eager to +oblige us, our own eagerness to be obliged being as communicable as +other warmth. Still there is always a certain number who are dismissed +as but moderately eager until the others have refused; and it happened +that Fred checked off all his friends but one, on the ground that +applying to them would be disagreeable; being implicitly convinced that +he at least (whatever might be maintained about mankind generally) had +a right to be free from anything disagreeable. That he should ever fall +into a thoroughly unpleasant positionwear trousers shrunk with +washing, eat cold mutton, have to walk for want of a horse, or to duck +under in any sort of waywas an absurdity irreconcilable with those +cheerful intuitions implanted in him by nature. And Fred winced under +the idea of being looked down upon as wanting funds for small debts. +Thus it came to pass that the friend whom he chose to apply to was at +once the poorest and the kindestnamely, Caleb Garth. + +The Garths were very fond of Fred, as he was of them; for when he and +Rosamond were little ones, and the Garths were better off, the slight +connection between the two families through Mr. Featherstones double +marriage (the first to Mr. Garths sister, and the second to Mrs. +Vincys) had led to an acquaintance which was carried on between the +children rather than the parents: the children drank tea together out +of their toy teacups, and spent whole days together in play. Mary was a +little hoyden, and Fred at six years old thought her the nicest girl in +the world, making her his wife with a brass ring which he had cut from +an umbrella. Through all the stages of his education he had kept his +affection for the Garths, and his habit of going to their house as a +second home, though any intercourse between them and the elders of his +family had long ceased. Even when Caleb Garth was prosperous, the +Vincys were on condescending terms with him and his wife, for there +were nice distinctions of rank in Middlemarch; and though old +manufacturers could not any more than dukes be connected with none but +equals, they were conscious of an inherent social superiority which was +defined with great nicety in practice, though hardly expressible +theoretically. Since then Mr. Garth had failed in the building +business, which he had unfortunately added to his other avocations of +surveyor, valuer, and agent, had conducted that business for a time +entirely for the benefit of his assignees, and had been living +narrowly, exerting himself to the utmost that he might after all pay +twenty shillings in the pound. He had now achieved this, and from all +who did not think it a bad precedent, his honorable exertions had won +him due esteem; but in no part of the world is genteel visiting founded +on esteem, in the absence of suitable furniture and complete +dinner-service. Mrs. Vincy had never been at her ease with Mrs. Garth, +and frequently spoke of her as a woman who had had to work for her +breadmeaning that Mrs. Garth had been a teacher before her marriage; +in which case an intimacy with Lindley Murray and Mangnalls Questions +was something like a drapers discrimination of calico trademarks, or a +couriers acquaintance with foreign countries: no woman who was better +off needed that sort of thing. And since Mary had been keeping Mr. +Featherstones house, Mrs. Vincys want of liking for the Garths had +been converted into something more positive, by alarm lest Fred should +engage himself to this plain girl, whose parents lived in such a small +way. Fred, being aware of this, never spoke at home of his visits to +Mrs. Garth, which had of late become more frequent, the increasing +ardor of his affection for Mary inclining him the more towards those +who belonged to her. + +Mr. Garth had a small office in the town, and to this Fred went with +his request. He obtained it without much difficulty, for a large amount +of painful experience had not sufficed to make Caleb Garth cautious +about his own affairs, or distrustful of his fellow-men when they had +not proved themselves untrustworthy; and he had the highest opinion of +Fred, was sure the lad would turn out wellan open affectionate +fellow, with a good bottom to his characteryou might trust him for +anything. Such was Calebs psychological argument. He was one of those +rare men who are rigid to themselves and indulgent to others. He had a +certain shame about his neighbors errors, and never spoke of them +willingly; hence he was not likely to divert his mind from the best +mode of hardening timber and other ingenious devices in order to +preconceive those errors. If he had to blame any one, it was necessary +for him to move all the papers within his reach, or describe various +diagrams with his stick, or make calculations with the odd money in his +pocket, before he could begin; and he would rather do other mens work +than find fault with their doing. I fear he was a bad disciplinarian. + +When Fred stated the circumstances of his debt, his wish to meet it +without troubling his father, and the certainty that the money would be +forthcoming so as to cause no one any inconvenience, Caleb pushed his +spectacles upward, listened, looked into his favorites clear young +eyes, and believed him, not distinguishing confidence about the future +from veracity about the past; but he felt that it was an occasion for a +friendly hint as to conduct, and that before giving his signature he +must give a rather strong admonition. Accordingly, he took the paper +and lowered his spectacles, measured the space at his command, reached +his pen and examined it, dipped it in the ink and examined it again, +then pushed the paper a little way from him, lifted up his spectacles +again, showed a deepened depression in the outer angle of his bushy +eyebrows, which gave his face a peculiar mildness (pardon these details +for onceyou would have learned to love them if you had known Caleb +Garth), and said in a comfortable tone, + +It was a misfortune, eh, that breaking the horses knees? And then, +these exchanges, they dont answer when you have cute jockeys to deal +with. Youll be wiser another time, my boy. + +Whereupon Caleb drew down his spectacles, and proceeded to write his +signature with the care which he always gave to that performance; for +whatever he did in the way of business he did well. He contemplated the +large well-proportioned letters and final flourish, with his head a +trifle on one side for an instant, then handed it to Fred, said +Good-by, and returned forthwith to his absorption in a plan for Sir +James Chettams new farm-buildings. + +Either because his interest in this work thrust the incident of the +signature from his memory, or for some reason of which Caleb was more +conscious, Mrs. Garth remained ignorant of the affair. + +Since it occurred, a change had come over Freds sky, which altered his +view of the distance, and was the reason why his uncle Featherstones +present of money was of importance enough to make his color come and +go, first with a too definite expectation, and afterwards with a +proportionate disappointment. His failure in passing his examination, +had made his accumulation of college debts the more unpardonable by his +father, and there had been an unprecedented storm at home. Mr. Vincy +had sworn that if he had anything more of that sort to put up with, +Fred should turn out and get his living how he could; and he had never +yet quite recovered his good-humored tone to his son, who had +especially enraged him by saying at this stage of things that he did +not want to be a clergyman, and would rather not go on with that. +Fred was conscious that he would have been yet more severely dealt with +if his family as well as himself had not secretly regarded him as Mr. +Featherstones heir; that old gentlemans pride in him, and apparent +fondness for him, serving in the stead of more exemplary conductjust +as when a youthful nobleman steals jewellery we call the act +kleptomania, speak of it with a philosophical smile, and never think of +his being sent to the house of correction as if he were a ragged boy +who had stolen turnips. In fact, tacit expectations of what would be +done for him by uncle Featherstone determined the angle at which most +people viewed Fred Vincy in Middlemarch; and in his own consciousness, +what uncle Featherstone would do for him in an emergency, or what he +would do simply as an incorporated luck, formed always an immeasurable +depth of aerial perspective. But that present of bank-notes, once made, +was measurable, and being applied to the amount of the debt, showed a +deficit which had still to be filled up either by Freds judgment or +by luck in some other shape. For that little episode of the alleged +borrowing, in which he had made his father the agent in getting the +Bulstrode certificate, was a new reason against going to his father for +money towards meeting his actual debt. Fred was keen enough to foresee +that anger would confuse distinctions, and that his denial of having +borrowed expressly on the strength of his uncles will would be taken +as a falsehood. He had gone to his father and told him one vexatious +affair, and he had left another untold: in such cases the complete +revelation always produces the impression of a previous duplicity. Now +Fred piqued himself on keeping clear of lies, and even fibs; he often +shrugged his shoulders and made a significant grimace at what he called +Rosamonds fibs (it is only brothers who can associate such ideas with +a lovely girl); and rather than incur the accusation of falsehood he +would even incur some trouble and self-restraint. It was under strong +inward pressure of this kind that Fred had taken the wise step of +depositing the eighty pounds with his mother. It was a pity that he had +not at once given them to Mr. Garth; but he meant to make the sum +complete with another sixty, and with a view to this, he had kept +twenty pounds in his own pocket as a sort of seed-corn, which, planted +by judgment, and watered by luck, might yield more than threefolda +very poor rate of multiplication when the field is a young gentlemans +infinite soul, with all the numerals at command. + +Fred was not a gambler: he had not that specific disease in which the +suspension of the whole nervous energy on a chance or risk becomes as +necessary as the dram to the drunkard; he had only the tendency to that +diffusive form of gambling which has no alcoholic intensity, but is +carried on with the healthiest chyle-fed blood, keeping up a joyous +imaginative activity which fashions events according to desire, and +having no fears about its own weather, only sees the advantage there +must be to others in going aboard with it. Hopefulness has a pleasure +in making a throw of any kind, because the prospect of success is +certain; and only a more generous pleasure in offering as many as +possible a share in the stake. Fred liked play, especially billiards, +as he liked hunting or riding a steeple-chase; and he only liked it the +better because he wanted money and hoped to win. But the twenty pounds +worth of seed-corn had been planted in vain in the seductive green +plotall of it at least which had not been dispersed by the +roadsideand Fred found himself close upon the term of payment with no +money at command beyond the eighty pounds which he had deposited with +his mother. The broken-winded horse which he rode represented a present +which had been made to him a long while ago by his uncle Featherstone: +his father always allowed him to keep a horse, Mr. Vincys own habits +making him regard this as a reasonable demand even for a son who was +rather exasperating. This horse, then, was Freds property, and in his +anxiety to meet the imminent bill he determined to sacrifice a +possession without which life would certainly be worth little. He made +the resolution with a sense of heroismheroism forced on him by the +dread of breaking his word to Mr. Garth, by his love for Mary and awe +of her opinion. He would start for Houndsley horse-fair which was to be +held the next morning, andsimply sell his horse, bringing back the +money by coach?Well, the horse would hardly fetch more than thirty +pounds, and there was no knowing what might happen; it would be folly +to balk himself of luck beforehand. It was a hundred to one that some +good chance would fall in his way; the longer he thought of it, the +less possible it seemed that he should not have a good chance, and the +less reasonable that he should not equip himself with the powder and +shot for bringing it down. He would ride to Houndsley with Bambridge +and with Horrock the vet, and without asking them anything expressly, +he should virtually get the benefit of their opinion. Before he set +out, Fred got the eighty pounds from his mother. + +Most of those who saw Fred riding out of Middlemarch in company with +Bambridge and Horrock, on his way of course to Houndsley horse-fair, +thought that young Vincy was pleasure-seeking as usual; and but for an +unwonted consciousness of grave matters on hand, he himself would have +had a sense of dissipation, and of doing what might be expected of a +gay young fellow. Considering that Fred was not at all coarse, that he +rather looked down on the manners and speech of young men who had not +been to the university, and that he had written stanzas as pastoral and +unvoluptuous as his flute-playing, his attraction towards Bambridge and +Horrock was an interesting fact which even the love of horse-flesh +would not wholly account for without that mysterious influence of +Naming which determinates so much of mortal choice. Under any other +name than pleasure the society of Messieurs Bambridge and Horrock +must certainly have been regarded as monotonous; and to arrive with +them at Houndsley on a drizzling afternoon, to get down at the Red Lion +in a street shaded with coal-dust, and dine in a room furnished with a +dirt-enamelled map of the county, a bad portrait of an anonymous horse +in a stable, His Majesty George the Fourth with legs and cravat, and +various leaden spittoons, might have seemed a hard business, but for +the sustaining power of nomenclature which determined that the pursuit +of these things was gay. + +In Mr. Horrock there was certainly an apparent unfathomableness which +offered play to the imagination. Costume, at a glance, gave him a +thrilling association with horses (enough to specify the hat-brim which +took the slightest upward angle just to escape the suspicion of bending +downwards), and nature had given him a face which by dint of Mongolian +eyes, and a nose, mouth, and chin seeming to follow his hat-brim in a +moderate inclination upwards, gave the effect of a subdued unchangeable +sceptical smile, of all expressions the most tyrannous over a +susceptible mind, and, when accompanied by adequate silence, likely to +create the reputation of an invincible understanding, an infinite fund +of humortoo dry to flow, and probably in a state of immovable +crust,and a critical judgment which, if you could ever be fortunate +enough to know it, would be _the_ thing and no other. It is a +physiognomy seen in all vocations, but perhaps it has never been more +powerful over the youth of England than in a judge of horses. + +Mr. Horrock, at a question from Fred about his horses fetlock, turned +sideways in his saddle, and watched the horses action for the space of +three minutes, then turned forward, twitched his own bridle, and +remained silent with a profile neither more nor less sceptical than it +had been. + +The part thus played in dialogue by Mr. Horrock was terribly effective. +A mixture of passions was excited in Freda mad desire to thrash +Horrocks opinion into utterance, restrained by anxiety to retain the +advantage of his friendship. There was always the chance that Horrock +might say something quite invaluable at the right moment. + +Mr. Bambridge had more open manners, and appeared to give forth his +ideas without economy. He was loud, robust, and was sometimes spoken of +as being given to indulgencechiefly in swearing, drinking, and +beating his wife. Some people who had lost by him called him a vicious +man; but he regarded horse-dealing as the finest of the arts, and might +have argued plausibly that it had nothing to do with morality. He was +undeniably a prosperous man, bore his drinking better than others bore +their moderation, and, on the whole, flourished like the green +bay-tree. But his range of conversation was limited, and like the fine +old tune, Drops of brandy, gave you after a while a sense of +returning upon itself in a way that might make weak heads dizzy. But a +slight infusion of Mr. Bambridge was felt to give tone and character to +several circles in Middlemarch; and he was a distinguished figure in +the bar and billiard-room at the Green Dragon. He knew some anecdotes +about the heroes of the turf, and various clever tricks of Marquesses +and Viscounts which seemed to prove that blood asserted its +pre-eminence even among black-legs; but the minute retentiveness of his +memory was chiefly shown about the horses he had himself bought and +sold; the number of miles they would trot you in no time without +turning a hair being, after the lapse of years, still a subject of +passionate asseveration, in which he would assist the imagination of +his hearers by solemnly swearing that they never saw anything like it. +In short, Mr. Bambridge was a man of pleasure and a gay companion. + +Fred was subtle, and did not tell his friends that he was going to +Houndsley bent on selling his horse: he wished to get indirectly at +their genuine opinion of its value, not being aware that a genuine +opinion was the last thing likely to be extracted from such eminent +critics. It was not Mr. Bambridges weakness to be a gratuitous +flatterer. He had never before been so much struck with the fact that +this unfortunate bay was a roarer to a degree which required the +roundest word for perdition to give you any idea of it. + +You made a bad hand at swapping when you went to anybody but me, +Vincy! Why, you never threw your leg across a finer horse than that +chestnut, and you gave him for this brute. If you set him cantering, he +goes on like twenty sawyers. I never heard but one worse roarer in my +life, and that was a roan: it belonged to Pegwell, the corn-factor; he +used to drive him in his gig seven years ago, and he wanted me to take +him, but I said, Thank you, Peg, I dont deal in wind-instruments. +That was what I said. It went the round of the country, that joke did. +But, what the hell! the horse was a penny trumpet to that roarer of +yours. + +Why, you said just now his was worse than mine, said Fred, more +irritable than usual. + +I said a lie, then, said Mr. Bambridge, emphatically. There wasnt a +penny to choose between em. + +Fred spurred his horse, and they trotted on a little way. When they +slackened again, Mr. Bambridge said + +Not but what the roan was a better trotter than yours. + +Im quite satisfied with his paces, I know, said Fred, who required +all the consciousness of being in gay company to support him; I say +his trot is an uncommonly clean one, eh, Horrock? + +Mr. Horrock looked before him with as complete a neutrality as if he +had been a portrait by a great master. + +Fred gave up the fallacious hope of getting a genuine opinion; but on +reflection he saw that Bambridges depreciation and Horrocks silence +were both virtually encouraging, and indicated that they thought better +of the horse than they chose to say. + +That very evening, indeed, before the fair had set in, Fred thought he +saw a favorable opening for disposing advantageously of his horse, but +an opening which made him congratulate himself on his foresight in +bringing with him his eighty pounds. A young farmer, acquainted with +Mr. Bambridge, came into the Red Lion, and entered into conversation +about parting with a hunter, which he introduced at once as Diamond, +implying that it was a public character. For himself he only wanted a +useful hack, which would draw upon occasion; being about to marry and +to give up hunting. The hunter was in a friends stable at some little +distance; there was still time for gentlemen to see it before dark. The +friends stable had to be reached through a back street where you might +as easily have been poisoned without expense of drugs as in any grim +street of that unsanitary period. Fred was not fortified against +disgust by brandy, as his companions were, but the hope of having at +last seen the horse that would enable him to make money was +exhilarating enough to lead him over the same ground again the first +thing in the morning. He felt sure that if he did not come to a bargain +with the farmer, Bambridge would; for the stress of circumstances, Fred +felt, was sharpening his acuteness and endowing him with all the +constructive power of suspicion. Bambridge had run down Diamond in a +way that he never would have done (the horse being a friends) if he +had not thought of buying it; every one who looked at the animaleven +Horrockwas evidently impressed with its merit. To get all the +advantage of being with men of this sort, you must know how to draw +your inferences, and not be a spoon who takes things literally. The +color of the horse was a dappled gray, and Fred happened to know that +Lord Medlicotes man was on the look-out for just such a horse. After +all his running down, Bambridge let it out in the course of the +evening, when the farmer was absent, that he had seen worse horses go +for eighty pounds. Of course he contradicted himself twenty times over, +but when you know what is likely to be true you can test a mans +admissions. And Fred could not but reckon his own judgment of a horse +as worth something. The farmer had paused over Freds respectable +though broken-winded steed long enough to show that he thought it worth +consideration, and it seemed probable that he would take it, with +five-and-twenty pounds in addition, as the equivalent of Diamond. In +that case Fred, when he had parted with his new horse for at least +eighty pounds, would be fifty-five pounds in pocket by the transaction, +and would have a hundred and thirty-five pounds towards meeting the +bill; so that the deficit temporarily thrown on Mr. Garth would at the +utmost be twenty-five pounds. By the time he was hurrying on his +clothes in the morning, he saw so clearly the importance of not losing +this rare chance, that if Bambridge and Horrock had both dissuaded him, +he would not have been deluded into a direct interpretation of their +purpose: he would have been aware that those deep hands held something +else than a young fellows interest. With regard to horses, distrust +was your only clew. But scepticism, as we know, can never be thoroughly +applied, else life would come to a standstill: something we must +believe in and do, and whatever that something may be called, it is +virtually our own judgment, even when it seems like the most slavish +reliance on another. Fred believed in the excellence of his bargain, +and even before the fair had well set in, had got possession of the +dappled gray, at the price of his old horse and thirty pounds in +additiononly five pounds more than he had expected to give. + +But he felt a little worried and wearied, perhaps with mental debate, +and without waiting for the further gayeties of the horse-fair, he set +out alone on his fourteen miles journey, meaning to take it very +quietly and keep his horse fresh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +The offenders sorrow brings but small relief +To him who wears the strong offences cross. +SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. + + +I am sorry to say that only the third day after the propitious events +at Houndsley Fred Vincy had fallen into worse spirits than he had known +in his life before. Not that he had been disappointed as to the +possible market for his horse, but that before the bargain could be +concluded with Lord Medlicotes man, this Diamond, in which hope to the +amount of eighty pounds had been invested, had without the slightest +warning exhibited in the stable a most vicious energy in kicking, had +just missed killing the groom, and had ended in laming himself severely +by catching his leg in a rope that overhung the stable-board. There was +no more redress for this than for the discovery of bad temper after +marriagewhich of course old companions were aware of before the +ceremony. For some reason or other, Fred had none of his usual +elasticity under this stroke of ill-fortune: he was simply aware that +he had only fifty pounds, that there was no chance of his getting any +more at present, and that the bill for a hundred and sixty would be +presented in five days. Even if he had applied to his father on the +plea that Mr. Garth should be saved from loss, Fred felt smartingly +that his father would angrily refuse to rescue Mr. Garth from the +consequence of what he would call encouraging extravagance and deceit. +He was so utterly downcast that he could frame no other project than to +go straight to Mr. Garth and tell him the sad truth, carrying with him +the fifty pounds, and getting that sum at least safely out of his own +hands. His father, being at the warehouse, did not yet know of the +accident: when he did, he would storm about the vicious brute being +brought into his stable; and before meeting that lesser annoyance Fred +wanted to get away with all his courage to face the greater. He took +his fathers nag, for he had made up his mind that when he had told Mr. +Garth, he would ride to Stone Court and confess all to Mary. In fact, +it is probable that but for Marys existence and Freds love for her, +his conscience would have been much less active both in previously +urging the debt on his thought and impelling him not to spare himself +after his usual fashion by deferring an unpleasant task, but to act as +directly and simply as he could. Even much stronger mortals than Fred +Vincy hold half their rectitude in the mind of the being they love +best. The theatre of all my actions is fallen, said an antique +personage when his chief friend was dead; and they are fortunate who +get a theatre where the audience demands their best. Certainly it would +have made a considerable difference to Fred at that time if Mary Garth +had had no decided notions as to what was admirable in character. + +Mr. Garth was not at the office, and Fred rode on to his house, which +was a little way outside the towna homely place with an orchard in +front of it, a rambling, old-fashioned, half-timbered building, which +before the town had spread had been a farm-house, but was now +surrounded with the private gardens of the townsmen. We get the fonder +of our houses if they have a physiognomy of their own, as our friends +have. The Garth family, which was rather a large one, for Mary had four +brothers and one sister, were very fond of their old house, from which +all the best furniture had long been sold. Fred liked it too, knowing +it by heart even to the attic which smelt deliciously of apples and +quinces, and until to-day he had never come to it without pleasant +expectations; but his heart beat uneasily now with the sense that he +should probably have to make his confession before Mrs. Garth, of whom +he was rather more in awe than of her husband. Not that she was +inclined to sarcasm and to impulsive sallies, as Mary was. In her +present matronly age at least, Mrs. Garth never committed herself by +over-hasty speech; having, as she said, borne the yoke in her youth, +and learned self-control. She had that rare sense which discerns what +is unalterable, and submits to it without murmuring. Adoring her +husbands virtues, she had very early made up her mind to his +incapacity of minding his own interests, and had met the consequences +cheerfully. She had been magnanimous enough to renounce all pride in +teapots or childrens frilling, and had never poured any pathetic +confidences into the ears of her feminine neighbors concerning Mr. +Garths want of prudence and the sums he might have had if he had been +like other men. Hence these fair neighbors thought her either proud or +eccentric, and sometimes spoke of her to their husbands as your fine +Mrs. Garth. She was not without her criticism of them in return, being +more accurately instructed than most matrons in Middlemarch, andwhere +is the blameless woman?apt to be a little severe towards her own sex, +which in her opinion was framed to be entirely subordinate. On the +other hand, she was disproportionately indulgent towards the failings +of men, and was often heard to say that these were natural. Also, it +must be admitted that Mrs. Garth was a trifle too emphatic in her +resistance to what she held to be follies: the passage from governess +into housewife had wrought itself a little too strongly into her +consciousness, and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent +were above the town standard, she wore a plain cap, cooked the family +dinner, and darned all the stockings. She had sometimes taken pupils in +a peripatetic fashion, making them follow her about in the kitchen with +their book or slate. She thought it good for them to see that she could +make an excellent lather while she corrected their blunders without +looking,that a woman with her sleeves tucked up above her elbows +might know all about the Subjunctive Mood or the Torrid Zonethat, in +short, she might possess education and other good things ending in +tion, and worthy to be pronounced emphatically, without being a +useless doll. When she made remarks to this edifying effect, she had a +firm little frown on her brow, which yet did not hinder her face from +looking benevolent, and her words which came forth like a procession +were uttered in a fervid agreeable contralto. Certainly, the exemplary +Mrs. Garth had her droll aspects, but her character sustained her +oddities, as a very fine wine sustains a flavor of skin. + +Towards Fred Vincy she had a motherly feeling, and had always been +disposed to excuse his errors, though she would probably not have +excused Mary for engaging herself to him, her daughter being included +in that more rigorous judgment which she applied to her own sex. But +this very fact of her exceptional indulgence towards him made it the +harder to Fred that he must now inevitably sink in her opinion. And the +circumstances of his visit turned out to be still more unpleasant than +he had expected; for Caleb Garth had gone out early to look at some +repairs not far off. Mrs. Garth at certain hours was always in the +kitchen, and this morning she was carrying on several occupations at +once theremaking her pies at the well-scoured deal table on one side +of that airy room, observing Sallys movements at the oven and +dough-tub through an open door, and giving lessons to her youngest boy +and girl, who were standing opposite to her at the table with their +books and slates before them. A tub and a clothes-horse at the other +end of the kitchen indicated an intermittent wash of small things also +going on. + +Mrs. Garth, with her sleeves turned above her elbows, deftly handling +her pastryapplying her rolling-pin and giving ornamental pinches, +while she expounded with grammatical fervor what were the right views +about the concord of verbs and pronouns with nouns of multitude or +signifying many, was a sight agreeably amusing. She was of the same +curly-haired, square-faced type as Mary, but handsomer, with more +delicacy of feature, a pale skin, a solid matronly figure, and a +remarkable firmness of glance. In her snowy-frilled cap she reminded +one of that delightful Frenchwoman whom we have all seen marketing, +basket on arm. Looking at the mother, you might hope that the daughter +would become like her, which is a prospective advantage equal to a +dowrythe mother too often standing behind the daughter like a +malignant prophecySuch as I am, she will shortly be. + +Now let us go through that once more, said Mrs. Garth, pinching an +apple-puff which seemed to distract Ben, an energetic young male with a +heavy brow, from due attention to the lesson. Not without regard to +the import of the word as conveying unity or plurality of ideatell me +again what that means, Ben. + +(Mrs. Garth, like more celebrated educators, had her favorite ancient +paths, and in a general wreck of society would have tried to hold her +Lindley Murray above the waves.) + +Ohit meansyou must think what you mean, said Ben, rather peevishly. +I hate grammar. Whats the use of it? + +To teach you to speak and write correctly, so that you can be +understood, said Mrs. Garth, with severe precision. Should you like +to speak as old Job does? + +Yes, said Ben, stoutly; its funnier. He says, Yo goothats just +as good as You go. + +But he says, A ships in the garden, instead of a sheep, said +Letty, with an air of superiority. You might think he meant a ship off +the sea. + +No, you mightnt, if you werent silly, said Ben. How could a ship +off the sea come there? + +These things belong only to pronunciation, which is the least part of +grammar, said Mrs. Garth. That apple-peel is to be eaten by the pigs, +Ben; if you eat it, I must give them your piece of pasty. Job has only +to speak about very plain things. How do you think you would write or +speak about anything more difficult, if you knew no more of grammar +than he does? You would use wrong words, and put words in the wrong +places, and instead of making people understand you, they would turn +away from you as a tiresome person. What would you do then? + +I shouldnt care, I should leave off, said Ben, with a sense that +this was an agreeable issue where grammar was concerned. + +I see you are getting tired and stupid, Ben, said Mrs. Garth, +accustomed to these obstructive arguments from her male offspring. +Having finished her pies, she moved towards the clothes-horse, and +said, Come here and tell me the story I told you on Wednesday, about +Cincinnatus. + +I know! he was a farmer, said Ben. + +Now, Ben, he was a Romanlet _me_ tell, said Letty, using her elbow +contentiously. + +You silly thing, he was a Roman farmer, and he was ploughing. + +Yes, but before thatthat didnt come firstpeople wanted him, said +Letty. + +Well, but you must say what sort of a man he was first, insisted Ben. +He was a wise man, like my father, and that made the people want his +advice. And he was a brave man, and could fight. And so could my +fathercouldnt he, mother? + +Now, Ben, let me tell the story straight on, as mother told it us, +said Letty, frowning. Please, mother, tell Ben not to speak. + +Letty, I am ashamed of you, said her mother, wringing out the caps +from the tub. When your brother began, you ought to have waited to see +if he could not tell the story. How rude you look, pushing and +frowning, as if you wanted to conquer with your elbows! Cincinnatus, I +am sure, would have been sorry to see his daughter behave so. (Mrs. +Garth delivered this awful sentence with much majesty of enunciation, +and Letty felt that between repressed volubility and general disesteem, +that of the Romans inclusive, life was already a painful affair.) Now, +Ben. + +Wellohwellwhy, there was a great deal of fighting, and they were +all blockheads, andI cant tell it just how you told itbut they +wanted a man to be captain and king and everything + +Dictator, now, said Letty, with injured looks, and not without a wish +to make her mother repent. + +Very well, dictator! said Ben, contemptuously. But that isnt a good +word: he didnt tell them to write on slates. + +Come, come, Ben, you are not so ignorant as that, said Mrs. Garth, +carefully serious. Hark, there is a knock at the door! Run, Letty, and +open it. + +The knock was Freds; and when Letty said that her father was not in +yet, but that her mother was in the kitchen, Fred had no alternative. +He could not depart from his usual practice of going to see Mrs. Garth +in the kitchen if she happened to be at work there. He put his arm +round Lettys neck silently, and led her into the kitchen without his +usual jokes and caresses. + +Mrs. Garth was surprised to see Fred at this hour, but surprise was not +a feeling that she was given to express, and she only said, quietly +continuing her work + +You, Fred, so early in the day? You look quite pale. Has anything +happened? + +I want to speak to Mr. Garth, said Fred, not yet ready to say +moreand to you also, he added, after a little pause, for he had no +doubt that Mrs. Garth knew everything about the bill, and he must in +the end speak of it before her, if not to her solely. + +Caleb will be in again in a few minutes, said Mrs. Garth, who +imagined some trouble between Fred and his father. He is sure not to +be long, because he has some work at his desk that must be done this +morning. Do you mind staying with me, while I finish my matters here? + +But we neednt go on about Cincinnatus, need we? said Ben, who had +taken Freds whip out of his hand, and was trying its efficiency on the +cat. + +No, go out now. But put that whip down. How very mean of you to whip +poor old Tortoise! Pray take the whip from him, Fred. + +Come, old boy, give it me, said Fred, putting out his hand. + +Will you let me ride on your horse to-day? said Ben, rendering up the +whip, with an air of not being obliged to do it. + +Not to-dayanother time. I am not riding my own horse. + +Shall you see Mary to-day? + +Yes, I think so, said Fred, with an unpleasant twinge. + +Tell her to come home soon, and play at forfeits, and make fun. + +Enough, enough, Ben! run away, said Mrs. Garth, seeing that Fred was +teased. + +Are Letty and Ben your only pupils now, Mrs. Garth? said Fred, when +the children were gone and it was needful to say something that would +pass the time. He was not yet sure whether he should wait for Mr. +Garth, or use any good opportunity in conversation to confess to Mrs. +Garth herself, give her the money and ride away. + +Oneonly one. Fanny Hackbutt comes at half past eleven. I am not +getting a great income now, said Mrs. Garth, smiling. I am at a low +ebb with pupils. But I have saved my little purse for Alfreds premium: +I have ninety-two pounds. He can go to Mr. Hanmers now; he is just at +the right age. + +This did not lead well towards the news that Mr. Garth was on the brink +of losing ninety-two pounds and more. Fred was silent. Young gentlemen +who go to college are rather more costly than that, Mrs. Garth +innocently continued, pulling out the edging on a cap-border. And +Caleb thinks that Alfred will turn out a distinguished engineer: he +wants to give the boy a good chance. There he is! I hear him coming in. +We will go to him in the parlor, shall we? + +When they entered the parlor Caleb had thrown down his hat and was +seated at his desk. + +What! Fred, my boy! he said, in a tone of mild surprise, holding his +pen still undipped; you are here betimes. But missing the usual +expression of cheerful greeting in Freds face, he immediately added, +Is there anything up at home?anything the matter? + +Yes, Mr. Garth, I am come to tell something that I am afraid will give +you a bad opinion of me. I am come to tell you and Mrs. Garth that I +cant keep my word. I cant find the money to meet the bill after all. +I have been unfortunate; I have only got these fifty pounds towards the +hundred and sixty. + +While Fred was speaking, he had taken out the notes and laid them on +the desk before Mr. Garth. He had burst forth at once with the plain +fact, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources. Mrs. +Garth was mutely astonished, and looked at her husband for an +explanation. Caleb blushed, and after a little pause said + +Oh, I didnt tell you, Susan: I put my name to a bill for Fred; it was +for a hundred and sixty pounds. He made sure he could meet it himself. + +There was an evident change in Mrs. Garths face, but it was like a +change below the surface of water which remains smooth. She fixed her +eyes on Fred, saying + +I suppose you have asked your father for the rest of the money and he +has refused you. + +No, said Fred, biting his lip, and speaking with more difficulty; +but I know it will be of no use to ask him; and unless it were of use, +I should not like to mention Mr. Garths name in the matter. + +It has come at an unfortunate time, said Caleb, in his hesitating +way, looking down at the notes and nervously fingering the paper, +Christmas upon usIm rather hard up just now. You see, I have to cut +out everything like a tailor with short measure. What can we do, Susan? +I shall want every farthing we have in the bank. Its a hundred and ten +pounds, the deuce take it! + +I must give you the ninety-two pounds that I have put by for Alfreds +premium, said Mrs. Garth, gravely and decisively, though a nice ear +might have discerned a slight tremor in some of the words. And I have +no doubt that Mary has twenty pounds saved from her salary by this +time. She will advance it. + +Mrs. Garth had not again looked at Fred, and was not in the least +calculating what words she should use to cut him the most effectively. +Like the eccentric woman she was, she was at present absorbed in +considering what was to be done, and did not fancy that the end could +be better achieved by bitter remarks or explosions. But she had made +Fred feel for the first time something like the tooth of remorse. +Curiously enough, his pain in the affair beforehand had consisted +almost entirely in the sense that he must seem dishonorable, and sink +in the opinion of the Garths: he had not occupied himself with the +inconvenience and possible injury that his breach might occasion them, +for this exercise of the imagination on other peoples needs is not +common with hopeful young gentlemen. Indeed we are most of us brought +up in the notion that the highest motive for not doing a wrong is +something irrespective of the beings who would suffer the wrong. But at +this moment he suddenly saw himself as a pitiful rascal who was robbing +two women of their savings. + +I shall certainly pay it all, Mrs. Garthultimately, he stammered +out. + +Yes, ultimately, said Mrs. Garth, who having a special dislike to +fine words on ugly occasions, could not now repress an epigram. But +boys cannot well be apprenticed ultimately: they should be apprenticed +at fifteen. She had never been so little inclined to make excuses for +Fred. + +I was the most in the wrong, Susan, said Caleb. Fred made sure of +finding the money. But Id no business to be fingering bills. I suppose +you have looked all round and tried all honest means? he added, fixing +his merciful gray eyes on Fred. Caleb was too delicate to specify Mr. +Featherstone. + +Yes, I have tried everythingI really have. I should have had a +hundred and thirty pounds ready but for a misfortune with a horse which +I was about to sell. My uncle had given me eighty pounds, and I paid +away thirty with my old horse in order to get another which I was going +to sell for eighty or moreI meant to go without a horsebut now it has +turned out vicious and lamed itself. I wish I and the horses too had +been at the devil, before I had brought this on you. Theres no one +else I care so much for: you and Mrs. Garth have always been so kind to +me. However, its no use saying that. You will always think me a rascal +now. + +Fred turned round and hurried out of the room, conscious that he was +getting rather womanish, and feeling confusedly that his being sorry +was not of much use to the Garths. They could see him mount, and +quickly pass through the gate. + +I am disappointed in Fred Vincy, said Mrs. Garth. I would not have +believed beforehand that he would have drawn you into his debts. I knew +he was extravagant, but I did not think that he would be so mean as to +hang his risks on his oldest friend, who could the least afford to +lose. + +I was a fool, Susan. + +That you were, said the wife, nodding and smiling. But I should not +have gone to publish it in the market-place. Why should you keep such +things from me? It is just so with your buttons: you let them burst off +without telling me, and go out with your wristband hanging. If I had +only known I might have been ready with some better plan. + +You are sadly cut up, I know, Susan, said Caleb, looking feelingly at +her. I cant abide your losing the money youve scraped together for +Alfred. + +It is very well that I _had_ scraped it together; and it is you who +will have to suffer, for you must teach the boy yourself. You must give +up your bad habits. Some men take to drinking, and you have taken to +working without pay. You must indulge yourself a little less in that. +And you must ride over to Mary, and ask the child what money she has. + +Caleb had pushed his chair back, and was leaning forward, shaking his +head slowly, and fitting his finger-tips together with much nicety. + +Poor Mary! he said. Susan, he went on in a lowered tone, Im +afraid she may be fond of Fred. + +Oh no! She always laughs at him; and he is not likely to think of her +in any other than a brotherly way. + +Caleb made no rejoinder, but presently lowered his spectacles, drew up +his chair to the desk, and said, Deuce take the billI wish it was at +Hanover! These things are a sad interruption to business! + +The first part of this speech comprised his whole store of maledictory +expression, and was uttered with a slight snarl easy to imagine. But it +would be difficult to convey to those who never heard him utter the +word business, the peculiar tone of fervid veneration, of religious +regard, in which he wrapped it, as a consecrated symbol is wrapped in +its gold-fringed linen. + +Caleb Garth often shook his head in meditation on the value, the +indispensable might of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by which +the social body is fed, clothed, and housed. It had laid hold of his +imagination in boyhood. The echoes of the great hammer where roof or +keel were a-making, the signal-shouts of the workmen, the roar of the +furnace, the thunder and plash of the engine, were a sublime music to +him; the felling and lading of timber, and the huge trunk vibrating +star-like in the distance along the highway, the crane at work on the +wharf, the piled-up produce in warehouses, the precision and variety of +muscular effort wherever exact work had to be turned out,all these +sights of his youth had acted on him as poetry without the aid of the +poets, had made a philosophy for him without the aid of philosophers, a +religion without the aid of theology. His early ambition had been to +have as effective a share as possible in this sublime labor, which was +peculiarly dignified by him with the name of business; and though he +had only been a short time under a surveyor, and had been chiefly his +own teacher, he knew more of land, building, and mining than most of +the special men in the county. + +His classification of human employments was rather crude, and, like the +categories of more celebrated men, would not be acceptable in these +advanced times. He divided them into business, politics, preaching, +learning, and amusement. He had nothing to say against the last four; +but he regarded them as a reverential pagan regarded other gods than +his own. In the same way, he thought very well of all ranks, but he +would not himself have liked to be of any rank in which he had not such +close contact with business as to get often honorably decorated with +marks of dust and mortar, the damp of the engine, or the sweet soil of +the woods and fields. Though he had never regarded himself as other +than an orthodox Christian, and would argue on prevenient grace if the +subject were proposed to him, I think his virtual divinities were good +practical schemes, accurate work, and the faithful completion of +undertakings: his prince of darkness was a slack workman. But there was +no spirit of denial in Caleb, and the world seemed so wondrous to him +that he was ready to accept any number of systems, like any number of +firmaments, if they did not obviously interfere with the best +land-drainage, solid building, correct measuring, and judicious boring +(for coal). In fact, he had a reverential soul with a strong practical +intelligence. But he could not manage finance: he knew values well, but +he had no keenness of imagination for monetary results in the shape of +profit and loss: and having ascertained this to his cost, he determined +to give up all forms of his beloved business which required that +talent. He gave himself up entirely to the many kinds of work which he +could do without handling capital, and was one of those precious men +within his own district whom everybody would choose to work for them, +because he did his work well, charged very little, and often declined +to charge at all. It is no wonder, then, that the Garths were poor, and +lived in a small way. However, they did not mind it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +Love seeketh not itself to please, + Nor for itself hath any care +But for another gives its ease + And builds a heaven in hells despair. +. . . . . . . +Love seeketh only self to please, + To bind another to its delight, +Joys in anothers loss of ease, + And builds a hell in heavens despite. +W. BLAKE: _Songs of Experience_. + + +Fred Vincy wanted to arrive at Stone Court when Mary could not expect +him, and when his uncle was not downstairs: in that case she might be +sitting alone in the wainscoted parlor. He left his horse in the yard +to avoid making a noise on the gravel in front, and entered the parlor +without other notice than the noise of the door-handle. Mary was in her +usual corner, laughing over Mrs. Piozzis recollections of Johnson, and +looked up with the fun still in her face. It gradually faded as she saw +Fred approach her without speaking, and stand before her with his elbow +on the mantel-piece, looking ill. She too was silent, only raising her +eyes to him inquiringly. + +Mary, he began, I am a good-for-nothing blackguard. + +I should think one of those epithets would do at a time, said Mary, +trying to smile, but feeling alarmed. + +I know you will never think well of me any more. You will think me a +liar. You will think me dishonest. You will think I didnt care for +you, or your father and mother. You always do make the worst of me, I +know. + +I cannot deny that I shall think all that of you, Fred, if you give me +good reasons. But please to tell me at once what you have done. I would +rather know the painful truth than imagine it. + +I owed moneya hundred and sixty pounds. I asked your father to put +his name to a bill. I thought it would not signify to him. I made sure +of paying the money myself, and I have tried as hard as I could. And +now, I have been so unluckya horse has turned out badlyI can only pay +fifty pounds. And I cant ask my father for the money: he would not +give me a farthing. And my uncle gave me a hundred a little while ago. +So what can I do? And now your father has no ready money to spare, and +your mother will have to pay away her ninety-two pounds that she has +saved, and she says your savings must go too. You see what a + +Oh, poor mother, poor father! said Mary, her eyes filling with tears, +and a little sob rising which she tried to repress. She looked straight +before her and took no notice of Fred, all the consequences at home +becoming present to her. He too remained silent for some moments, +feeling more miserable than ever. I wouldnt have hurt you for the +world, Mary, he said at last. You can never forgive me. + +What does it matter whether I forgive you? said Mary, passionately. +Would that make it any better for my mother to lose the money she has +been earning by lessons for four years, that she might send Alfred to +Mr. Hanmers? Should you think all that pleasant enough if I forgave +you? + +Say what you like, Mary. I deserve it all. + +I dont want to say anything, said Mary, more quietly, and my anger +is of no use. She dried her eyes, threw aside her book, rose and +fetched her sewing. + +Fred followed her with his eyes, hoping that they would meet hers, and +in that way find access for his imploring penitence. But no! Mary could +easily avoid looking upward. + +I do care about your mothers money going, he said, when she was +seated again and sewing quickly. I wanted to ask you, Marydont you +think that Mr. Featherstoneif you were to tell himtell him, I mean, +about apprenticing Alfredwould advance the money? + +My family is not fond of begging, Fred. We would rather work for our +money. Besides, you say that Mr. Featherstone has lately given you a +hundred pounds. He rarely makes presents; he has never made presents to +us. I am sure my father will not ask him for anything; and even if I +chose to beg of him, it would be of no use. + +I am so miserable, Maryif you knew how miserable I am, you would be +sorry for me. + +There are other things to be more sorry for than that. But selfish +people always think their own discomfort of more importance than +anything else in the world. I see enough of that every day. + +It is hardly fair to call me selfish. If you knew what things other +young men do, you would think me a good way off the worst. + +I know that people who spend a great deal of money on themselves +without knowing how they shall pay, must be selfish. They are always +thinking of what they can get for themselves, and not of what other +people may lose. + +Any man may be unfortunate, Mary, and find himself unable to pay when +he meant it. There is not a better man in the world than your father, +and yet he got into trouble. + +How dare you make any comparison between my father and you, Fred? +said Mary, in a deep tone of indignation. He never got into trouble by +thinking of his own idle pleasures, but because he was always thinking +of the work he was doing for other people. And he has fared hard, and +worked hard to make good everybodys loss. + +And you think that I shall never try to make good anything, Mary. It +is not generous to believe the worst of a man. When you have got any +power over him, I think you might try and use it to make him better; +but that is what you never do. However, Im going, Fred ended, +languidly. I shall never speak to you about anything again. Im very +sorry for all the trouble Ive causedthats all. + +Mary had dropped her work out of her hand and looked up. There is often +something maternal even in a girlish love, and Marys hard experience +had wrought her nature to an impressibility very different from that +hard slight thing which we call girlishness. At Freds last words she +felt an instantaneous pang, something like what a mother feels at the +imagined sobs or cries of her naughty truant child, which may lose +itself and get harm. And when, looking up, her eyes met his dull +despairing glance, her pity for him surmounted her anger and all her +other anxieties. + +Oh, Fred, how ill you look! Sit down a moment. Dont go yet. Let me +tell uncle that you are here. He has been wondering that he has not +seen you for a whole week. Mary spoke hurriedly, saying the words that +came first without knowing very well what they were, but saying them in +a half-soothing half-beseeching tone, and rising as if to go away to +Mr. Featherstone. Of course Fred felt as if the clouds had parted and a +gleam had come: he moved and stood in her way. + +Say one word, Mary, and I will do anything. Say you will not think the +worst of mewill not give me up altogether. + +As if it were any pleasure to me to think ill of you, said Mary, in a +mournful tone. As if it were not very painful to me to see you an idle +frivolous creature. How can you bear to be so contemptible, when others +are working and striving, and there are so many things to be donehow +can you bear to be fit for nothing in the world that is useful? And +with so much good in your disposition, Fred,you might be worth a great +deal. + +I will try to be anything you like, Mary, if you will say that you +love me. + +I should be ashamed to say that I loved a man who must always be +hanging on others, and reckoning on what they would do for him. What +will you be when you are forty? Like Mr. Bowyer, I supposejust as +idle, living in Mrs. Becks front parlorfat and shabby, hoping +somebody will invite you to dinnerspending your morning in learning a +comic songoh no! learning a tune on the flute. + +Marys lips had begun to curl with a smile as soon as she had asked +that question about Freds future (young souls are mobile), and before +she ended, her face had its full illumination of fun. To him it was +like the cessation of an ache that Mary could laugh at him, and with a +passive sort of smile he tried to reach her hand; but she slipped away +quickly towards the door and said, I shall tell uncle. You _must_ see +him for a moment or two. + +Fred secretly felt that his future was guaranteed against the +fulfilment of Marys sarcastic prophecies, apart from that anything +which he was ready to do if she would define it. He never dared in +Marys presence to approach the subject of his expectations from Mr. +Featherstone, and she always ignored them, as if everything depended on +himself. But if ever he actually came into the property, she must +recognize the change in his position. All this passed through his mind +somewhat languidly, before he went up to see his uncle. He stayed but a +little while, excusing himself on the ground that he had a cold; and +Mary did not reappear before he left the house. But as he rode home, he +began to be more conscious of being ill, than of being melancholy. + +When Caleb Garth arrived at Stone Court soon after dusk, Mary was not +surprised, although he seldom had leisure for paying her a visit, and +was not at all fond of having to talk with Mr. Featherstone. The old +man, on the other hand, felt himself ill at ease with a brother-in-law +whom he could not annoy, who did not mind about being considered poor, +had nothing to ask of him, and understood all kinds of farming and +mining business better than he did. But Mary had felt sure that her +parents would want to see her, and if her father had not come, she +would have obtained leave to go home for an hour or two the next day. +After discussing prices during tea with Mr. Featherstone, Caleb rose to +bid him good-by, and said, I want to speak to you, Mary. + +She took a candle into another large parlor, where there was no fire, +and setting down the feeble light on the dark mahogany table, turned +round to her father, and putting her arms round his neck kissed him +with childish kisses which he delighted in,the expression of his large +brows softening as the expression of a great beautiful dog softens when +it is caressed. Mary was his favorite child, and whatever Susan might +say, and right as she was on all other subjects, Caleb thought it +natural that Fred or any one else should think Mary more lovable than +other girls. + +Ive got something to tell you, my dear, said Caleb in his hesitating +way. No very good news; but then it might be worse. + +About money, father? I think I know what it is. + +Ay? how can that be? You see, Ive been a bit of a fool again, and put +my name to a bill, and now it comes to paying; and your mother has got +to part with her savings, thats the worst of it, and even they wont +quite make things even. We wanted a hundred and ten pounds: your mother +has ninety-two, and I have none to spare in the bank; and she thinks +that you have some savings. + +Oh yes; I have more than four-and-twenty pounds. I thought you would +come, father, so I put it in my bag. See! beautiful white notes and +gold. + +Mary took out the folded money from her reticule and put it into her +fathers hand. + +Well, but howwe only want eighteenhere, put the rest back, +child,but how did you know about it? said Caleb, who, in his +unconquerable indifference to money, was beginning to be chiefly +concerned about the relation the affair might have to Marys +affections. + +Fred told me this morning. + +Ah! Did he come on purpose? + +Yes, I think so. He was a good deal distressed. + +Im afraid Fred is not to be trusted, Mary, said the father, with +hesitating tenderness. He means better than he acts, perhaps. But I +should think it a pity for any bodys happiness to be wrapped up in +him, and so would your mother. + +And so should I, father, said Mary, not looking up, but putting the +back of her fathers hand against her cheek. + +I dont want to pry, my dear. But I was afraid there might be +something between you and Fred, and I wanted to caution you. You see, +Maryhere Calebs voice became more tender; he had been pushing his +hat about on the table and looking at it, but finally he turned his +eyes on his daughtera woman, let her be as good as she may, has got +to put up with the life her husband makes for her. Your mother has had +to put up with a good deal because of me. + +Mary turned the back of her fathers hand to her lips and smiled at +him. + +Well, well, nobodys perfect, buthere Mr. Garth shook his head to +help out the inadequacy of wordswhat I am thinking of iswhat it must +be for a wife when shes never sure of her husband, when he hasnt got +a principle in him to make him more afraid of doing the wrong thing by +others than of getting his own toes pinched. Thats the long and the +short of it, Mary. Young folks may get fond of each other before they +know what life is, and they may think it all holiday if they can only +get together; but it soon turns into working day, my dear. However, you +have more sense than most, and you havent been kept in cotton-wool: +there may be no occasion for me to say this, but a father trembles for +his daughter, and you are all by yourself here. + +Dont fear for me, father, said Mary, gravely meeting her fathers +eyes; Fred has always been very good to me; he is kind-hearted and +affectionate, and not false, I think, with all his self-indulgence. But +I will never engage myself to one who has no manly independence, and +who goes on loitering away his time on the chance that others will +provide for him. You and my mother have taught me too much pride for +that. + +Thats rightthats right. Then I am easy, said Mr. Garth, taking up +his hat. But its hard to run away with your earnings, eh child. + +Father! said Mary, in her deepest tone of remonstrance. Take +pocketfuls of love besides to them all at home, was her last word +before he closed the outer door on himself. + +I suppose your father wanted your earnings, said old Mr. +Featherstone, with his usual power of unpleasant surmise, when Mary +returned to him. He makes but a tight fit, I reckon. Youre of age +now; you ought to be saving for yourself. + +I consider my father and mother the best part of myself, sir, said +Mary, coldly. + +Mr. Featherstone grunted: he could not deny that an ordinary sort of +girl like her might be expected to be useful, so he thought of another +rejoinder, disagreeable enough to be always apropos. If Fred Vincy +comes to-morrow, now, dont you keep him chattering: let him come up to +me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +He beats me and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! would it were +otherwisethat I could beat him while he railed at me._Troilus and +Cressida_. + + +But Fred did not go to Stone Court the next day, for reasons that were +quite peremptory. From those visits to unsanitary Houndsley streets in +search of Diamond, he had brought back not only a bad bargain in +horse-flesh, but the further misfortune of some ailment which for a day +or two had deemed mere depression and headache, but which got so much +worse when he returned from his visit to Stone Court that, going into +the dining-room, he threw himself on the sofa, and in answer to his +mothers anxious question, said, I feel very ill: I think you must +send for Wrench. + +Wrench came, but did not apprehend anything serious, spoke of a slight +derangement, and did not speak of coming again on the morrow. He had a +due value for the Vincys house, but the wariest men are apt to be +dulled by routine, and on worried mornings will sometimes go through +their business with the zest of the daily bell-ringer. Mr. Wrench was a +small, neat, bilious man, with a well-dressed wig: he had a laborious +practice, an irascible temper, a lymphatic wife and seven children; and +he was already rather late before setting out on a four-miles drive to +meet Dr. Minchin on the other side of Tipton, the decease of Hicks, a +rural practitioner, having increased Middlemarch practice in that +direction. Great statesmen err, and why not small medical men? Mr. +Wrench did not neglect sending the usual white parcels, which this time +had black and drastic contents. Their effect was not alleviating to +poor Fred, who, however, unwilling as he said to believe that he was +in for an illness, rose at his usual easy hour the next morning and +went down-stairs meaning to breakfast, but succeeded in nothing but in +sitting and shivering by the fire. Mr. Wrench was again sent for, but +was gone on his rounds, and Mrs. Vincy seeing her darlings changed +looks and general misery, began to cry and said she would send for Dr. +Sprague. + +Oh, nonsense, mother! Its nothing, said Fred, putting out his hot +dry hand to her, I shall soon be all right. I must have taken cold in +that nasty damp ride. + +Mamma! said Rosamond, who was seated near the window (the dining-room +windows looked on that highly respectable street called Lowick Gate), +there is Mr. Lydgate, stopping to speak to some one. If I were you I +would call him in. He has cured Ellen Bulstrode. They say he cures +every one. + +Mrs. Vincy sprang to the window and opened it in an instant, thinking +only of Fred and not of medical etiquette. Lydgate was only two yards +off on the other side of some iron palisading, and turned round at the +sudden sound of the sash, before she called to him. In two minutes he +was in the room, and Rosamond went out, after waiting just long enough +to show a pretty anxiety conflicting with her sense of what was +becoming. + +Lydgate had to hear a narrative in which Mrs. Vincys mind insisted +with remarkable instinct on every point of minor importance, especially +on what Mr. Wrench had said and had not said about coming again. That +there might be an awkward affair with Wrench, Lydgate saw at once; but +the case was serious enough to make him dismiss that consideration: he +was convinced that Fred was in the pink-skinned stage of typhoid fever, +and that he had taken just the wrong medicines. He must go to bed +immediately, must have a regular nurse, and various appliances and +precautions must be used, about which Lydgate was particular. Poor Mrs. +Vincys terror at these indications of danger found vent in such words +as came most easily. She thought it very ill usage on the part of Mr. +Wrench, who had attended their house so many years in preference to Mr. +Peacock, though Mr. Peacock was equally a friend. Why Mr. Wrench should +neglect her children more than others, she could not for the life of +her understand. He had not neglected Mrs. Larchers when they had the +measles, nor indeed would Mrs. Vincy have wished that he should. And if +anything should happen + +Here poor Mrs. Vincys spirit quite broke down, and her Niobe throat +and good-humored face were sadly convulsed. This was in the hall out of +Freds hearing, but Rosamond had opened the drawing-room door, and now +came forward anxiously. Lydgate apologized for Mr. Wrench, said that +the symptoms yesterday might have been disguising, and that this form +of fever was very equivocal in its beginnings: he would go immediately +to the druggists and have a prescription made up in order to lose no +time, but he would write to Mr. Wrench and tell him what had been done. + +But you must come againyou must go on attending Fred. I cant have my +boy left to anybody who may come or not. I bear nobody ill-will, thank +God, and Mr. Wrench saved me in the pleurisy, but hed better have let +me dieifif + +I will meet Mr. Wrench here, then, shall I? said Lydgate, really +believing that Wrench was not well prepared to deal wisely with a case +of this kind. + +Pray make that arrangement, Mr. Lydgate, said Rosamond, coming to her +mothers aid, and supporting her arm to lead her away. + +When Mr. Vincy came home he was very angry with Wrench, and did not +care if he never came into his house again. Lydgate should go on now, +whether Wrench liked it or not. It was no joke to have fever in the +house. Everybody must be sent to now, not to come to dinner on +Thursday. And Pritchard neednt get up any wine: brandy was the best +thing against infection. I shall drink brandy, added Mr. Vincy, +emphaticallyas much as to say, this was not an occasion for firing +with blank-cartridges. Hes an uncommonly unfortunate lad, is Fred. +Hed need have some luck by and by to make up for all thiselse I dont +know whod have an eldest son. + +Dont say so, Vincy, said the mother, with a quivering lip, if you +dont want him to be taken from me. + +It will worret you to death, Lucy; _that_ I can see, said Mr. Vincy, +more mildly. However, Wrench shall know what I think of the matter. +(What Mr. Vincy thought confusedly was, that the fever might somehow +have been hindered if Wrench had shown the proper solicitude about +histhe Mayorsfamily.) Im the last man to give in to the cry about +new doctors, or new parsons eitherwhether theyre Bulstrodes men or +not. But Wrench shall know what I think, take it as he will. + +Wrench did not take it at all well. Lydgate was as polite as he could +be in his offhand way, but politeness in a man who has placed you at a +disadvantage is only an additional exasperation, especially if he +happens to have been an object of dislike beforehand. Country +practitioners used to be an irritable species, susceptible on the point +of honor; and Mr. Wrench was one of the most irritable among them. He +did not refuse to meet Lydgate in the evening, but his temper was +somewhat tried on the occasion. He had to hear Mrs. Vincy say + +Oh, Mr. Wrench, what have I ever done that you should use me so? To +go away, and never to come again! And my boy might have been stretched +a corpse! + +Mr. Vincy, who had been keeping up a sharp fire on the enemy Infection, +and was a good deal heated in consequence, started up when he heard +Wrench come in, and went into the hall to let him know what he thought. + +Ill tell you what, Wrench, this is beyond a joke, said the Mayor, +who of late had had to rebuke offenders with an official air, and now +broadened himself by putting his thumbs in his armholes. To let fever +get unawares into a house like this. There are some things that ought +to be actionable, and are not so thats my opinion. + +But irrational reproaches were easier to bear than the sense of being +instructed, or rather the sense that a younger man, like Lydgate, +inwardly considered him in need of instruction, for in point of fact, +Mr. Wrench afterwards said, Lydgate paraded flighty, foreign notions, +which would not wear. He swallowed his ire for the moment, but he +afterwards wrote to decline further attendance in the case. The house +might be a good one, but Mr. Wrench was not going to truckle to anybody +on a professional matter. He reflected, with much probability on his +side, that Lydgate would by-and-by be caught tripping too, and that his +ungentlemanly attempts to discredit the sale of drugs by his +professional brethren, would by-and-by recoil on himself. He threw out +biting remarks on Lydgates tricks, worthy only of a quack, to get +himself a factitious reputation with credulous people. That cant about +cures was never got up by sound practitioners. + +This was a point on which Lydgate smarted as much as Wrench could +desire. To be puffed by ignorance was not only humiliating, but +perilous, and not more enviable than the reputation of the +weather-prophet. He was impatient of the foolish expectations amidst +which all work must be carried on, and likely enough to damage himself +as much as Mr. Wrench could wish, by an unprofessional openness. + +However, Lydgate was installed as medical attendant on the Vincys, and +the event was a subject of general conversation in Middlemarch. Some +said, that the Vincys had behaved scandalously, that Mr. Vincy had +threatened Wrench, and that Mrs. Vincy had accused him of poisoning her +son. Others were of opinion that Mr. Lydgates passing by was +providential, that he was wonderfully clever in fevers, and that +Bulstrode was in the right to bring him forward. Many people believed +that Lydgates coming to the town at all was really due to Bulstrode; +and Mrs. Taft, who was always counting stitches and gathered her +information in misleading fragments caught between the rows of her +knitting, had got it into her head that Mr. Lydgate was a natural son +of Bulstrodes, a fact which seemed to justify her suspicions of +evangelical laymen. + +She one day communicated this piece of knowledge to Mrs. Farebrother, +who did not fail to tell her son of it, observing + +I should not be surprised at anything in Bulstrode, but I should be +sorry to think it of Mr. Lydgate. + +Why, mother, said Mr. Farebrother, after an explosive laugh, you +know very well that Lydgate is of a good family in the North. He never +heard of Bulstrode before he came here. + +That is satisfactory so far as Mr. Lydgate is concerned, Camden, said +the old lady, with an air of precision.But as to Bulstrodethe report +may be true of some other son. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +Let the high Muse chant loves Olympian: +We are but mortals, and must sing of man. + + +An eminent philosopher among my friends, who can dignify even your ugly +furniture by lifting it into the serene light of science, has shown me +this pregnant little fact. Your pier-glass or extensive surface of +polished steel made to be rubbed by a housemaid, will be minutely and +multitudinously scratched in all directions; but place now against it a +lighted candle as a centre of illumination, and lo! the scratches will +seem to arrange themselves in a fine series of concentric circles round +that little sun. It is demonstrable that the scratches are going +everywhere impartially and it is only your candle which produces the +flattering illusion of a concentric arrangement, its light falling with +an exclusive optical selection. These things are a parable. The +scratches are events, and the candle is the egoism of any person now +absentof Miss Vincy, for example. Rosamond had a Providence of her own +who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, and who seemed +to have arranged Freds illness and Mr. Wrenchs mistake in order to +bring her and Lydgate within effective proximity. It would have been to +contravene these arrangements if Rosamond had consented to go away to +Stone Court or elsewhere, as her parents wished her to do, especially +since Mr. Lydgate thought the precaution needless. Therefore, while +Miss Morgan and the children were sent away to a farmhouse the morning +after Freds illness had declared itself, Rosamond refused to leave +papa and mamma. + +Poor mamma indeed was an object to touch any creature born of woman; +and Mr. Vincy, who doted on his wife, was more alarmed on her account +than on Freds. But for his insistence she would have taken no rest: +her brightness was all bedimmed; unconscious of her costume which had +always been so fresh and gay, she was like a sick bird with languid eye +and plumage ruffled, her senses dulled to the sights and sounds that +used most to interest her. Freds delirium, in which he seemed to be +wandering out of her reach, tore her heart. After her first outburst +against Mr. Wrench she went about very quietly: her one low cry was to +Lydgate. She would follow him out of the room and put her hand on his +arm moaning out, Save my boy. Once she pleaded, He has always been +good to me, Mr. Lydgate: he never had a hard word for his mother,as +if poor Freds suffering were an accusation against him. All the +deepest fibres of the mothers memory were stirred, and the young man +whose voice took a gentler tone when he spoke to her, was one with the +babe whom she had loved, with a love new to her, before he was born. + +I have good hope, Mrs. Vincy, Lydgate would say. Come down with me +and let us talk about the food. In that way he led her to the parlor +where Rosamond was, and made a change for her, surprising her into +taking some tea or broth which had been prepared for her. There was a +constant understanding between him and Rosamond on these matters. He +almost always saw her before going to the sickroom, and she appealed to +him as to what she could do for mamma. Her presence of mind and +adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and it is not +wonderful that the idea of seeing Rosamond began to mingle itself with +his interest in the case. Especially when the critical stage was +passed, and he began to feel confident of Freds recovery. In the more +doubtful time, he had advised calling in Dr. Sprague (who, if he could, +would rather have remained neutral on Wrenchs account); but after two +consultations, the conduct of the case was left to Lydgate, and there +was every reason to make him assiduous. Morning and evening he was at +Mr. Vincys, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became +simply feeble, and lay not only in need of the utmost petting but +conscious of it, so that Mrs. Vincy felt as if, after all, the illness +had made a festival for her tenderness. + +Both father and mother held it an added reason for good spirits, when +old Mr. Featherstone sent messages by Lydgate, saying that Fred must +make haste and get well, as he, Peter Featherstone, could not do +without him, and missed his visits sadly. The old man himself was +getting bedridden. Mrs. Vincy told these messages to Fred when he could +listen, and he turned towards her his delicate, pinched face, from +which all the thick blond hair had been cut away, and in which the eyes +seemed to have got larger, yearning for some word about Marywondering +what she felt about his illness. No word passed his lips; but to hear +with eyes belongs to loves rare wit, and the mother in the fulness of +her heart not only divined Freds longing, but felt ready for any +sacrifice in order to satisfy him. + +If I can only see my boy strong again, she said, in her loving folly; +and who knows?perhaps master of Stone Court! and he can marry anybody +he likes then. + +Not if they wont have me, mother, said Fred. The illness had made +him childish, and tears came as he spoke. + +Oh, take a bit of jelly, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, secretly +incredulous of any such refusal. + +She never left Freds side when her husband was not in the house, and +thus Rosamond was in the unusual position of being much alone. Lydgate, +naturally, never thought of staying long with her, yet it seemed that +the brief impersonal conversations they had together were creating that +peculiar intimacy which consists in shyness. They were obliged to look +at each other in speaking, and somehow the looking could not be carried +through as the matter of course which it really was. Lydgate began to +feel this sort of consciousness unpleasant and one day looked down, or +anywhere, like an ill-worked puppet. But this turned out badly: the +next day, Rosamond looked down, and the consequence was that when their +eyes met again, both were more conscious than before. There was no help +for this in science, and as Lydgate did not want to flirt, there seemed +to be no help for it in folly. It was therefore a relief when neighbors +no longer considered the house in quarantine, and when the chances of +seeing Rosamond alone were very much reduced. + +But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the +other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to +be done away with. Talk about the weather and other well-bred topics is +apt to seem a hollow device, and behavior can hardly become easy unless +it frankly recognizes a mutual fascinationwhich of course need not +mean anything deep or serious. This was the way in which Rosamond and +Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and made their intercourse lively +again. Visitors came and went as usual, there was once more music in +the drawing-room, and all the extra hospitality of Mr. Vincys +mayoralty returned. Lydgate, whenever he could, took his seat by +Rosamonds side, and lingered to hear her music, calling himself her +captivemeaning, all the while, not to be her captive. The +preposterousness of the notion that he could at once set up a +satisfactory establishment as a married man was a sufficient guarantee +against danger. This play at being a little in love was agreeable, and +did not interfere with graver pursuits. Flirtation, after all, was not +necessarily a singeing process. Rosamond, for her part, had never +enjoyed the days so much in her life before: she was sure of being +admired by some one worth captivating, and she did not distinguish +flirtation from love, either in herself or in another. She seemed to be +sailing with a fair wind just whither she would go, and her thoughts +were much occupied with a handsome house in Lowick Gate which she hoped +would by-and-by be vacant. She was quite determined, when she was +married, to rid herself adroitly of all the visitors who were not +agreeable to her at her fathers; and she imagined the drawing-room in +her favorite house with various styles of furniture. + +Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate himself; he +seemed to her almost perfect: if he had known his notes so that his +enchantment under her music had been less like an emotional elephants, +and if he had been able to discriminate better the refinements of her +taste in dress, she could hardly have mentioned a deficiency in him. +How different he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Those +young men had not a notion of French, and could speak on no subject +with striking knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, +which of course they were ashamed to mention; they were Middlemarch +gentry, elated with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, but +embarrassed in their manners, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above +them, having at least the accent and manner of a university man. +Whereas Lydgate was always listened to, bore himself with the careless +politeness of conscious superiority, and seemed to have the right +clothes on by a certain natural affinity, without ever having to think +about them. Rosamond was proud when he entered the room, and when he +approached her with a distinguishing smile, she had a delicious sense +that she was the object of enviable homage. If Lydgate had been aware +of all the pride he excited in that delicate bosom, he might have been +just as well pleased as any other man, even the most densely ignorant +of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he held it one of the prettiest +attitudes of the feminine mind to adore a mans pre-eminence without +too precise a knowledge of what it consisted in. But Rosamond was not +one of those helpless girls who betray themselves unawares, and whose +behavior is awkwardly driven by their impulses, instead of being +steered by wary grace and propriety. Do you imagine that her rapid +forecast and rumination concerning house-furniture and society were +ever discernible in her conversation, even with her mamma? On the +contrary, she would have expressed the prettiest surprise and +disapprobation if she had heard that another young lady had been +detected in that immodest prematurenessindeed, would probably have +disbelieved in its possibility. For Rosamond never showed any +unbecoming knowledge, and was always that combination of correct +sentiments, music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private +album for extracted verse, and perfect blond loveliness, which made the +irresistible woman for the doomed man of that date. Think no unfair +evil of her, pray: she had no wicked plots, nothing sordid or +mercenary; in fact, she never thought of money except as something +necessary which other people would always provide. She was not in the +habit of devising falsehoods, and if her statements were no direct clew +to fact, why, they were not intended in that lightthey were among her +elegant accomplishments, intended to please. Nature had inspired many +arts in finishing Mrs. Lemons favorite pupil, who by general consent +(Freds excepted) was a rare compound of beauty, cleverness, and +amiability. + +Lydgate found it more and more agreeable to be with her, and there was +no constraint now, there was a delightful interchange of influence in +their eyes, and what they said had that superfluity of meaning for +them, which is observable with some sense of flatness by a third +person; still they had no interviews or asides from which a third +person need have been excluded. In fact, they flirted; and Lydgate was +secure in the belief that they did nothing else. If a man could not +love and be wise, surely he could flirt and be wise at the same time? +Really, the men in Middlemarch, except Mr. Farebrother, were great +bores, and Lydgate did not care about commercial politics or cards: +what was he to do for relaxation? He was often invited to the +Bulstrodes; but the girls there were hardly out of the schoolroom; and +Mrs. Bulstrodes _naive_ way of conciliating piety and worldliness, the +nothingness of this life and the desirability of cut glass, the +consciousness at once of filthy rags and the best damask, was not a +sufficient relief from the weight of her husbands invariable +seriousness. The Vincys house, with all its faults, was the pleasanter +by contrast; besides, it nourished Rosamondsweet to look at as a +half-opened blush-rose, and adorned with accomplishments for the +refined amusement of man. + +But he made some enemies, other than medical, by his success with Miss +Vincy. One evening he came into the drawing-room rather late, when +several other visitors were there. The card-table had drawn off the +elders, and Mr. Ned Plymdale (one of the good matches in Middlemarch, +though not one of its leading minds) was in _tte--tte_ with +Rosamond. He had brought the last Keepsake, the gorgeous watered-silk +publication which marked modern progress at that time; and he +considered himself very fortunate that he could be the first to look +over it with her, dwelling on the ladies and gentlemen with shiny +copper-plate cheeks and copper-plate smiles, and pointing to comic +verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting. Rosamond was +gracious, and Mr. Ned was satisfied that he had the very best thing in +art and literature as a medium for paying addressesthe very thing to +please a nice girl. He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, +for being satisfied with his own appearance. To superficial observers +his chin had too vanishing an aspect, looking as if it were being +gradually reabsorbed. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about +the fit of his satin stocks, for which chins were at that time useful. + +I think the Honorable Mrs. S. is something like you, said Mr. Ned. He +kept the book open at the bewitching portrait, and looked at it rather +languishingly. + +Her back is very large; she seems to have sat for that, said +Rosamond, not meaning any satire, but thinking how red young Plymdales +hands were, and wondering why Lydgate did not come. She went on with +her tatting all the while. + +I did not say she was as beautiful as you are, said Mr. Ned, +venturing to look from the portrait to its rival. + +I suspect you of being an adroit flatterer, said Rosamond, feeling +sure that she should have to reject this young gentleman a second time. + +But now Lydgate came in; the book was closed before he reached +Rosamonds corner, and as he took his seat with easy confidence on the +other side of her, young Plymdales jaw fell like a barometer towards +the cheerless side of change. Rosamond enjoyed not only Lydgates +presence but its effect: she liked to excite jealousy. + +What a late comer you are! she said, as they shook hands. Mamma had +given you up a little while ago. How do you find Fred? + +As usual; going on well, but slowly. I want him to go awayto Stone +Court, for example. But your mamma seems to have some objection. + +Poor fellow! said Rosamond, prettily. You will see Fred so changed, +she added, turning to the other suitor; we have looked to Mr. Lydgate +as our guardian angel during this illness. + +Mr. Ned smiled nervously, while Lydgate, drawing the Keepsake towards +him and opening it, gave a short scornful laugh and tossed up his chin, +as if in wonderment at human folly. + +What are you laughing at so profanely? said Rosamond, with bland +neutrality. + +I wonder which would turn out to be the silliestthe engravings or the +writing here, said Lydgate, in his most convinced tone, while he +turned over the pages quickly, seeming to see all through the book in +no time, and showing his large white hands to much advantage, as +Rosamond thought. Do look at this bridegroom coming out of church: did +you ever see such a sugared inventionas the Elizabethans used to +say? Did any haberdasher ever look so smirking? Yet I will answer for +it the story makes him one of the first gentlemen in the land. + +You are so severe, I am frightened at you, said Rosamond, keeping her +amusement duly moderate. Poor young Plymdale had lingered with +admiration over this very engraving, and his spirit was stirred. + +There are a great many celebrated people writing in the Keepsake, at +all events, he said, in a tone at once piqued and timid. This is the +first time I have heard it called silly. + +I think I shall turn round on you and accuse you of being a Goth, +said Rosamond, looking at Lydgate with a smile. I suspect you know +nothing about Lady Blessington and L. E. L. Rosamond herself was not +without relish for these writers, but she did not readily commit +herself by admiration, and was alive to the slightest hint that +anything was not, according to Lydgate, in the very highest taste. + +But Sir Walter ScottI suppose Mr. Lydgate knows him, said young +Plymdale, a little cheered by this advantage. + +Oh, I read no literature now, said Lydgate, shutting the book, and +pushing it away. I read so much when I was a lad, that I suppose it +will last me all my life. I used to know Scotts poems by heart. + +I should like to know when you left off, said Rosamond, because then +I might be sure that I knew something which you did not know. + +Mr. Lydgate would say that was not worth knowing, said Mr. Ned, +purposely caustic. + +On the contrary, said Lydgate, showing no smart; but smiling with +exasperating confidence at Rosamond. It would be worth knowing by the +fact that Miss Vincy could tell it me. + +Young Plymdale soon went to look at the whist-playing, thinking that +Lydgate was one of the most conceited, unpleasant fellows it had ever +been his ill-fortune to meet. + +How rash you are! said Rosamond, inwardly delighted. Do you see that +you have given offence? + +What! is it Mr. Plymdales book? I am sorry. I didnt think about it. + +I shall begin to admit what you said of yourself when you first came +herethat you are a bear, and want teaching by the birds. + +Well, there is a bird who can teach me what she will. Dont I listen +to her willingly? + +To Rosamond it seemed as if she and Lydgate were as good as engaged. +That they were some time to be engaged had long been an idea in her +mind; and ideas, we know, tend to a more solid kind of existence, the +necessary materials being at hand. It is true, Lydgate had the +counter-idea of remaining unengaged; but this was a mere negative, a +shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of +shrinking. Circumstance was almost sure to be on the side of Rosamonds +idea, which had a shaping activity and looked through watchful blue +eyes, whereas Lydgates lay blind and unconcerned as a jelly-fish which +gets melted without knowing it. + +That evening when he went home, he looked at his phials to see how a +process of maceration was going on, with undisturbed interest; and he +wrote out his daily notes with as much precision as usual. The reveries +from which it was difficult for him to detach himself were ideal +constructions of something else than Rosamonds virtues, and the +primitive tissue was still his fair unknown. Moreover, he was beginning +to feel some zest for the growing though half-suppressed feud between +him and the other medical men, which was likely to become more +manifest, now that Bulstrodes method of managing the new hospital was +about to be declared; and there were various inspiriting signs that his +non-acceptance by some of Peacocks patients might be counterbalanced +by the impression he had produced in other quarters. Only a few days +later, when he had happened to overtake Rosamond on the Lowick road and +had got down from his horse to walk by her side until he had quite +protected her from a passing drove, he had been stopped by a servant on +horseback with a message calling him in to a house of some importance +where Peacock had never attended; and it was the second instance of +this kind. The servant was Sir James Chettams, and the house was +Lowick Manor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +1_st Gent_. All times are good to seek your wedded home + Bringing a mutual delight. + +2_d Gent_. Why, true. + The calendar hath not an evil day + For souls made one by love, and even death + Were sweetness, if it came like rolling waves + While they two clasped each other, and foresaw + No life apart. + + +Mr. and Mrs. Casaubon, returning from their wedding journey, arrived at +Lowick Manor in the middle of January. A light snow was falling as they +descended at the door, and in the morning, when Dorothea passed from +her dressing-room into the blue-green boudoir that we know of, she saw +the long avenue of limes lifting their trunks from a white earth, and +spreading white branches against the dun and motionless sky. The +distant flat shrank in uniform whiteness and low-hanging uniformity of +cloud. The very furniture in the room seemed to have shrunk since she +saw it before: the stag in the tapestry looked more like a ghost in his +ghostly blue-green world; the volumes of polite literature in the +bookcase looked more like immovable imitations of books. The bright +fire of dry oak-boughs burning on the logs seemed an incongruous +renewal of life and glowlike the figure of Dorothea herself as she +entered carrying the red-leather cases containing the cameos for Celia. + +She was glowing from her morning toilet as only healthful youth can +glow: there was gem-like brightness on her coiled hair and in her hazel +eyes; there was warm red life in her lips; her throat had a breathing +whiteness above the differing white of the fur which itself seemed to +wind about her neck and cling down her blue-gray pelisse with a +tenderness gathered from her own, a sentient commingled innocence which +kept its loveliness against the crystalline purity of the outdoor snow. +As she laid the cameo-cases on the table in the bow-window, she +unconsciously kept her hands on them, immediately absorbed in looking +out on the still, white enclosure which made her visible world. + +Mr. Casaubon, who had risen early complaining of palpitation, was in +the library giving audience to his curate Mr. Tucker. By-and-by Celia +would come in her quality of bridesmaid as well as sister, and through +the next weeks there would be wedding visits received and given; all in +continuance of that transitional life understood to correspond with the +excitement of bridal felicity, and keeping up the sense of busy +ineffectiveness, as of a dream which the dreamer begins to suspect. The +duties of her married life, contemplated as so great beforehand, seemed +to be shrinking with the furniture and the white vapor-walled +landscape. The clear heights where she expected to walk in full +communion had become difficult to see even in her imagination; the +delicious repose of the soul on a complete superior had been shaken +into uneasy effort and alarmed with dim presentiment. When would the +days begin of that active wifely devotion which was to strengthen her +husbands life and exalt her own? Never perhaps, as she had +preconceived them; but somehowstill somehow. In this solemnly pledged +union of her life, duty would present itself in some new form of +inspiration and give a new meaning to wifely love. + +Meanwhile there was the snow and the low arch of dun vaporthere was +the stifling oppression of that gentlewomans world, where everything +was done for her and none asked for her aidwhere the sense of +connection with a manifold pregnant existence had to be kept up +painfully as an inward vision, instead of coming from without in claims +that would have shaped her energies. What shall I do? Whatever you +please, my dear: that had been her brief history since she had left +off learning morning lessons and practising silly rhythms on the hated +piano. Marriage, which was to bring guidance into worthy and imperative +occupation, had not yet freed her from the gentlewomans oppressive +liberty: it had not even filled her leisure with the ruminant joy of +unchecked tenderness. Her blooming full-pulsed youth stood there in a +moral imprisonment which made itself one with the chill, colorless, +narrowed landscape, with the shrunken furniture, the never-read books, +and the ghostly stag in a pale fantastic world that seemed to be +vanishing from the daylight. + +In the first minutes when Dorothea looked out she felt nothing but the +dreary oppression; then came a keen remembrance, and turning away from +the window she walked round the room. The ideas and hopes which were +living in her mind when she first saw this room nearly three months +before were present now only as memories: she judged them as we judge +transient and departed things. All existence seemed to beat with a +lower pulse than her own, and her religious faith was a solitary cry, +the struggle out of a nightmare in which every object was withering and +shrinking away from her. Each remembered thing in the room was +disenchanted, was deadened as an unlit transparency, till her wandering +gaze came to the group of miniatures, and there at last she saw +something which had gathered new breath and meaning: it was the +miniature of Mr. Casaubons aunt Julia, who had made the unfortunate +marriageof Will Ladislaws grandmother. Dorothea could fancy that it +was alive nowthe delicate womans face which yet had a headstrong +look, a peculiarity difficult to interpret. Was it only her friends who +thought her marriage unfortunate? or did she herself find it out to be +a mistake, and taste the salt bitterness of her tears in the merciful +silence of the night? What breadths of experience Dorothea seemed to +have passed over since she first looked at this miniature! She felt a +new companionship with it, as if it had an ear for her and could see +how she was looking at it. Here was a woman who had known some +difficulty about marriage. Nay, the colors deepened, the lips and chin +seemed to get larger, the hair and eyes seemed to be sending out light, +the face was masculine and beamed on her with that full gaze which +tells her on whom it falls that she is too interesting for the +slightest movement of her eyelid to pass unnoticed and uninterpreted. +The vivid presentation came like a pleasant glow to Dorothea: she felt +herself smiling, and turning from the miniature sat down and looked up +as if she were again talking to a figure in front of her. But the smile +disappeared as she went on meditating, and at last she said aloud + +Oh, it was cruel to speak so! How sadhow dreadful! + +She rose quickly and went out of the room, hurrying along the corridor, +with the irresistible impulse to go and see her husband and inquire if +she could do anything for him. Perhaps Mr. Tucker was gone and Mr. +Casaubon was alone in the library. She felt as if all her mornings +gloom would vanish if she could see her husband glad because of her +presence. + +But when she reached the head of the dark oak there was Celia coming +up, and below there was Mr. Brooke, exchanging welcomes and +congratulations with Mr. Casaubon. + +Dodo! said Celia, in her quiet staccato; then kissed her sister, +whose arms encircled her, and said no more. I think they both cried a +little in a furtive manner, while Dorothea ran down-stairs to greet her +uncle. + +I need not ask how you are, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, after kissing +her forehead. Rome has agreed with you, I seehappiness, frescos, the +antiquethat sort of thing. Well, its very pleasant to have you back +again, and you understand all about art now, eh? But Casaubon is a +little pale, I tell hima little pale, you know. Studying hard in his +holidays is carrying it rather too far. I overdid it at one timeMr. +Brooke still held Dorotheas hand, but had turned his face to Mr. +Casaubonabout topography, ruins, templesI thought I had a clew, but +I saw it would carry me too far, and nothing might come of it. You may +go any length in that sort of thing, and nothing may come of it, you +know. + +Dorotheas eyes also were turned up to her husbands face with some +anxiety at the idea that those who saw him afresh after absence might +be aware of signs which she had not noticed. + +Nothing to alarm you, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, observing her +expression. A little English beef and mutton will soon make a +difference. It was all very well to look pale, sitting for the portrait +of Aquinas, you knowwe got your letter just in time. But Aquinas, +nowhe was a little too subtle, wasnt he? Does anybody read Aquinas? + +He is not indeed an author adapted to superficial minds, said Mr. +Casaubon, meeting these timely questions with dignified patience. + +You would like coffee in your own room, uncle? said Dorothea, coming +to the rescue. + +Yes; and you must go to Celia: she has great news to tell you, you +know. I leave it all to her. + +The blue-green boudoir looked much more cheerful when Celia was seated +there in a pelisse exactly like her sisters, surveying the cameos with +a placid satisfaction, while the conversation passed on to other +topics. + +Do you think it nice to go to Rome on a wedding journey? said Celia, +with her ready delicate blush which Dorothea was used to on the +smallest occasions. + +It would not suit allnot you, dear, for example, said Dorothea, +quietly. No one would ever know what she thought of a wedding journey +to Rome. + +Mrs. Cadwallader says it is nonsense, people going a long journey when +they are married. She says they get tired to death of each other, and +cant quarrel comfortably, as they would at home. And Lady Chettam says +she went to Bath. Celias color changed again and againseemed + +To come and go with tidings from the heart, +As it a running messenger had been. + + +It must mean more than Celias blushing usually did. + +Celia! has something happened? said Dorothea, in a tone full of +sisterly feeling. Have you really any great news to tell me? + +It was because you went away, Dodo. Then there was nobody but me for +Sir James to talk to, said Celia, with a certain roguishness in her +eyes. + +I understand. It is as I used to hope and believe, said Dorothea, +taking her sisters face between her hands, and looking at her half +anxiously. Celias marriage seemed more serious than it used to do. + +It was only three days ago, said Celia. And Lady Chettam is very +kind. + +And you are very happy? + +Yes. We are not going to be married yet. Because every thing is to be +got ready. And I dont want to be married so very soon, because I think +it is nice to be engaged. And we shall be married all our lives after. + +I do believe you could not marry better, Kitty. Sir James is a good, +honorable man, said Dorothea, warmly. + +He has gone on with the cottages, Dodo. He will tell you about them +when he comes. Shall you be glad to see him? + +Of course I shall. How can you ask me? + +Only I was afraid you would be getting so learned, said Celia, +regarding Mr. Casaubons learning as a kind of damp which might in due +time saturate a neighboring body. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +I found that no genius in another could please me. My unfortunate +paradoxes had entirely dried up that source of comfort.GOLDSMITH. + + +One morning, some weeks after her arrival at Lowick, Dorotheabut why +always Dorothea? Was her point of view the only possible one with +regard to this marriage? I protest against all our interest, all our +effort at understanding being given to the young skins that look +blooming in spite of trouble; for these too will get faded, and will +know the older and more eating griefs which we are helping to neglect. +In spite of the blinking eyes and white moles objectionable to Celia, +and the want of muscular curve which was morally painful to Sir James, +Mr. Casaubon had an intense consciousness within him, and was +spiritually a-hungered like the rest of us. He had done nothing +exceptional in marryingnothing but what society sanctions, and +considers an occasion for wreaths and bouquets. It had occurred to him +that he must not any longer defer his intention of matrimony, and he +had reflected that in taking a wife, a man of good position should +expect and carefully choose a blooming young ladythe younger the +better, because more educable and submissiveof a rank equal to his +own, of religious principles, virtuous disposition, and good +understanding. On such a young lady he would make handsome settlements, +and he would neglect no arrangement for her happiness: in return, he +should receive family pleasures and leave behind him that copy of +himself which seemed so urgently required of a manto the sonneteers of +the sixteenth century. Times had altered since then, and no sonneteer +had insisted on Mr. Casaubons leaving a copy of himself; moreover, he +had not yet succeeded in issuing copies of his mythological key; but he +had always intended to acquit himself by marriage, and the sense that +he was fast leaving the years behind him, that the world was getting +dimmer and that he felt lonely, was a reason to him for losing no more +time in overtaking domestic delights before they too were left behind +by the years. + +And when he had seen Dorothea he believed that he had found even more +than he demanded: she might really be such a helpmate to him as would +enable him to dispense with a hired secretary, an aid which Mr. +Casaubon had never yet employed and had a suspicious dread of. (Mr. +Casaubon was nervously conscious that he was expected to manifest a +powerful mind.) Providence, in its kindness, had supplied him with the +wife he needed. A wife, a modest young lady, with the purely +appreciative, unambitious abilities of her sex, is sure to think her +husbands mind powerful. Whether Providence had taken equal care of +Miss Brooke in presenting her with Mr. Casaubon was an idea which could +hardly occur to him. Society never made the preposterous demand that a +man should think as much about his own qualifications for making a +charming girl happy as he thinks of hers for making himself happy. As +if a man could choose not only his wife but his wifes husband! Or as +if he were bound to provide charms for his posterity in his own +person! When Dorothea accepted him with effusion, that was only +natural; and Mr. Casaubon believed that his happiness was going to +begin. + +He had not had much foretaste of happiness in his previous life. To +know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an +enthusiastic soul. Mr. Casaubon had never had a strong bodily frame, +and his soul was sensitive without being enthusiastic: it was too +languid to thrill out of self-consciousness into passionate delight; it +went on fluttering in the swampy ground where it was hatched, thinking +of its wings and never flying. His experience was of that pitiable kind +which shrinks from pity, and fears most of all that it should be known: +it was that proud narrow sensitiveness which has not mass enough to +spare for transformation into sympathy, and quivers thread-like in +small currents of self-preoccupation or at best of an egoistic +scrupulosity. And Mr. Casaubon had many scruples: he was capable of a +severe self-restraint; he was resolute in being a man of honor +according to the code; he would be unimpeachable by any recognized +opinion. In conduct these ends had been attained; but the difficulty of +making his Key to all Mythologies unimpeachable weighed like lead upon +his mind; and the pamphletsor Parerga as he called themby which he +tested his public and deposited small monumental records of his march, +were far from having been seen in all their significance. He suspected +the Archdeacon of not having read them; he was in painful doubt as to +what was really thought of them by the leading minds of Brasenose, and +bitterly convinced that his old acquaintance Carp had been the writer +of that depreciatory recension which was kept locked in a small drawer +of Mr. Casaubons desk, and also in a dark closet of his verbal memory. +These were heavy impressions to struggle against, and brought that +melancholy embitterment which is the consequence of all excessive +claim: even his religious faith wavered with his wavering trust in his +own authorship, and the consolations of the Christian hope in +immortality seemed to lean on the immortality of the still unwritten +Key to all Mythologies. For my part I am very sorry for him. It is an +uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to +enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be +liberated from a small hungry shivering selfnever to be fully +possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness +rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardor of a +passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and +uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted. Becoming a +dean or even a bishop would make little difference, I fear, to Mr. +Casaubons uneasiness. Doubtless some ancient Greek has observed that +behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our +poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous lips more or less +under anxious control. + +To this mental estate mapped out a quarter of a century before, to +sensibilities thus fenced in, Mr. Casaubon had thought of annexing +happiness with a lovely young bride; but even before marriage, as we +have seen, he found himself under a new depression in the consciousness +that the new bliss was not blissful to him. Inclination yearned back to +its old, easier custom. And the deeper he went in domesticity the more +did the sense of acquitting himself and acting with propriety +predominate over any other satisfaction. Marriage, like religion and +erudition, nay, like authorship itself, was fated to become an outward +requirement, and Edward Casaubon was bent on fulfilling unimpeachably +all requirements. Even drawing Dorothea into use in his study, +according to his own intention before marriage, was an effort which he +was always tempted to defer, and but for her pleading insistence it +might never have begun. But she had succeeded in making it a matter of +course that she should take her place at an early hour in the library +and have work either of reading aloud or copying assigned her. The work +had been easier to define because Mr. Casaubon had adopted an immediate +intention: there was to be a new Parergon, a small monograph on some +lately traced indications concerning the Egyptian mysteries whereby +certain assertions of Warburtons could be corrected. References were +extensive even here, but not altogether shoreless; and sentences were +actually to be written in the shape wherein they would be scanned by +Brasenose and a less formidable posterity. These minor monumental +productions were always exciting to Mr. Casaubon; digestion was made +difficult by the interference of citations, or by the rivalry of +dialectical phrases ringing against each other in his brain. And from +the first there was to be a Latin dedication about which everything was +uncertain except that it was not to be addressed to Carp: it was a +poisonous regret to Mr. Casaubon that he had once addressed a +dedication to Carp in which he had numbered that member of the animal +kingdom among the _viros nullo vo perituros_, a mistake which would +infallibly lay the dedicator open to ridicule in the next age, and +might even be chuckled over by Pike and Tench in the present. + +Thus Mr. Casaubon was in one of his busiest epochs, and as I began to +say a little while ago, Dorothea joined him early in the library where +he had breakfasted alone. Celia at this time was on a second visit to +Lowick, probably the last before her marriage, and was in the +drawing-room expecting Sir James. + +Dorothea had learned to read the signs of her husbands mood, and she +saw that the morning had become more foggy there during the last hour. +She was going silently to her desk when he said, in that distant tone +which implied that he was discharging a disagreeable duty + +Dorothea, here is a letter for you, which was enclosed in one +addressed to me. + +It was a letter of two pages, and she immediately looked at the +signature. + +Mr. Ladislaw! What can he have to say to me? she exclaimed, in a tone +of pleased surprise. But, she added, looking at Mr. Casaubon, I can +imagine what he has written to you about. + +You can, if you please, read the letter, said Mr. Casaubon, severely +pointing to it with his pen, and not looking at her. But I may as well +say beforehand, that I must decline the proposal it contains to pay a +visit here. I trust I may be excused for desiring an interval of +complete freedom from such distractions as have been hitherto +inevitable, and especially from guests whose desultory vivacity makes +their presence a fatigue. + +There had been no clashing of temper between Dorothea and her husband +since that little explosion in Rome, which had left such strong traces +in her mind that it had been easier ever since to quell emotion than to +incur the consequence of venting it. But this ill-tempered anticipation +that she could desire visits which might be disagreeable to her +husband, this gratuitous defence of himself against selfish complaint +on her part, was too sharp a sting to be meditated on until after it +had been resented. Dorothea had thought that she could have been +patient with John Milton, but she had never imagined him behaving in +this way; and for a moment Mr. Casaubon seemed to be stupidly +undiscerning and odiously unjust. Pity, that new-born babe which was +by-and-by to rule many a storm within her, did not stride the blast +on this occasion. With her first words, uttered in a tone that shook +him, she startled Mr. Casaubon into looking at her, and meeting the +flash of her eyes. + +Why do you attribute to me a wish for anything that would annoy you? +You speak to me as if I were something you had to contend against. Wait +at least till I appear to consult my own pleasure apart from yours. + +Dorothea, you are hasty, answered Mr. Casaubon, nervously. + +Decidedly, this woman was too young to be on the formidable level of +wifehoodunless she had been pale and featureless and taken everything +for granted. + +I think it was you who were first hasty in your false suppositions +about my feeling, said Dorothea, in the same tone. The fire was not +dissipated yet, and she thought it was ignoble in her husband not to +apologize to her. + +We will, if you please, say no more on this subject, Dorothea. I have +neither leisure nor energy for this kind of debate. + +Here Mr. Casaubon dipped his pen and made as if he would return to his +writing, though his hand trembled so much that the words seemed to be +written in an unknown character. There are answers which, in turning +away wrath, only send it to the other end of the room, and to have a +discussion coolly waived when you feel that justice is all on your own +side is even more exasperating in marriage than in philosophy. + +Dorothea left Ladislaws two letters unread on her husbands +writing-table and went to her own place, the scorn and indignation +within her rejecting the reading of these letters, just as we hurl away +any trash towards which we seem to have been suspected of mean +cupidity. She did not in the least divine the subtle sources of her +husbands bad temper about these letters: she only knew that they had +caused him to offend her. She began to work at once, and her hand did +not tremble; on the contrary, in writing out the quotations which had +been given to her the day before, she felt that she was forming her +letters beautifully, and it seemed to her that she saw the construction +of the Latin she was copying, and which she was beginning to +understand, more clearly than usual. In her indignation there was a +sense of superiority, but it went out for the present in firmness of +stroke, and did not compress itself into an inward articulate voice +pronouncing the once affable archangel a poor creature. + +There had been this apparent quiet for half an hour, and Dorothea had +not looked away from her own table, when she heard the loud bang of a +book on the floor, and turning quickly saw Mr. Casaubon on the library +steps clinging forward as if he were in some bodily distress. She +started up and bounded towards him in an instant: he was evidently in +great straits for breath. Jumping on a stool she got close to his elbow +and said with her whole soul melted into tender alarm + +Can you lean on me, dear? + +He was still for two or three minutes, which seemed endless to her, +unable to speak or move, gasping for breath. When at last he descended +the three steps and fell backward in the large chair which Dorothea had +drawn close to the foot of the ladder, he no longer gasped but seemed +helpless and about to faint. Dorothea rang the bell violently, and +presently Mr. Casaubon was helped to the couch: he did not faint, and +was gradually reviving, when Sir James Chettam came in, having been met +in the hall with the news that Mr. Casaubon had had a fit in the +library. + +Good God! this is just what might have been expected, was his +immediate thought. If his prophetic soul had been urged to +particularize, it seemed to him that fits would have been the +definite expression alighted upon. He asked his informant, the butler, +whether the doctor had been sent for. The butler never knew his master +to want the doctor before; but would it not be right to send for a +physician? + +When Sir James entered the library, however, Mr. Casaubon could make +some signs of his usual politeness, and Dorothea, who in the reaction +from her first terror had been kneeling and sobbing by his side now +rose and herself proposed that some one should ride off for a medical +man. + +I recommend you to send for Lydgate, said Sir James. My mother has +called him in, and she has found him uncommonly clever. She has had a +poor opinion of the physicians since my fathers death. + +Dorothea appealed to her husband, and he made a silent sign of +approval. So Mr. Lydgate was sent for and he came wonderfully soon, for +the messenger, who was Sir James Chettams man and knew Mr. Lydgate, +met him leading his horse along the Lowick road and giving his arm to +Miss Vincy. + +Celia, in the drawing-room, had known nothing of the trouble till Sir +James told her of it. After Dorotheas account, he no longer considered +the illness a fit, but still something of that nature. + +Poor dear Dodohow dreadful! said Celia, feeling as much grieved as +her own perfect happiness would allow. Her little hands were clasped, +and enclosed by Sir Jamess as a bud is enfolded by a liberal calyx. +It is very shocking that Mr. Casaubon should be ill; but I never did +like him. And I think he is not half fond enough of Dorothea; and he +ought to be, for I am sure no one else would have had himdo you think +they would? + +I always thought it a horrible sacrifice of your sister, said Sir +James. + +Yes. But poor Dodo never did do what other people do, and I think she +never will. + +She is a noble creature, said the loyal-hearted Sir James. He had +just had a fresh impression of this kind, as he had seen Dorothea +stretching her tender arm under her husbands neck and looking at him +with unspeakable sorrow. He did not know how much penitence there was +in the sorrow. + +Yes, said Celia, thinking it was very well for Sir James to say so, +but _he_ would not have been comfortable with Dodo. Shall I go to her? +Could I help her, do you think? + +I think it would be well for you just to go and see her before Lydgate +comes, said Sir James, magnanimously. Only dont stay long. + +While Celia was gone he walked up and down remembering what he had +originally felt about Dorotheas engagement, and feeling a revival of +his disgust at Mr. Brookes indifference. If Cadwalladerif every one +else had regarded the affair as he, Sir James, had done, the marriage +might have been hindered. It was wicked to let a young girl blindly +decide her fate in that way, without any effort to save her. Sir James +had long ceased to have any regrets on his own account: his heart was +satisfied with his engagement to Celia. But he had a chivalrous nature +(was not the disinterested service of woman among the ideal glories of +old chivalry?): his disregarded love had not turned to bitterness; its +death had made sweet odorsfloating memories that clung with a +consecrating effect to Dorothea. He could remain her brotherly friend, +interpreting her actions with generous trustfulness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +Qui veut dlasser hors de propos, lasse.PASCAL. + + +Mr. Casaubon had no second attack of equal severity with the first, and +in a few days began to recover his usual condition. But Lydgate seemed +to think the case worth a great deal of attention. He not only used his +stethoscope (which had not become a matter of course in practice at +that time), but sat quietly by his patient and watched him. To Mr. +Casaubons questions about himself, he replied that the source of the +illness was the common error of intellectual mena too eager and +monotonous application: the remedy was, to be satisfied with moderate +work, and to seek variety of relaxation. Mr. Brooke, who sat by on one +occasion, suggested that Mr. Casaubon should go fishing, as Cadwallader +did, and have a turning-room, make toys, table-legs, and that kind of +thing. + +In short, you recommend me to anticipate the arrival of my second +childhood, said poor Mr. Casaubon, with some bitterness. These +things, he added, looking at Lydgate, would be to me such relaxation +as tow-picking is to prisoners in a house of correction. + +I confess, said Lydgate, smiling, amusement is rather an +unsatisfactory prescription. It is something like telling people to +keep up their spirits. Perhaps I had better say, that you must submit +to be mildly bored rather than to go on working. + +Yes, yes, said Mr. Brooke. Get Dorothea to play backgammon with you +in the evenings. And shuttlecock, nowI dont know a finer game than +shuttlecock for the daytime. I remember it all the fashion. To be sure, +your eyes might not stand that, Casaubon. But you must unbend, you +know. Why, you might take to some light study: conchology, now: I +always think that must be a light study. Or get Dorothea to read you +light things, SmollettRoderick Random, Humphrey Clinker: they are +a little broad, but she may read anything now shes married, you know. +I remember they made me laugh uncommonlytheres a droll bit about a +postilions breeches. We have no such humor now. I have gone through +all these things, but they might be rather new to you. + +As new as eating thistles, would have been an answer to represent Mr. +Casaubons feelings. But he only bowed resignedly, with due respect to +his wifes uncle, and observed that doubtless the works he mentioned +had served as a resource to a certain order of minds. + +You see, said the able magistrate to Lydgate, when they were outside +the door, Casaubon has been a little narrow: it leaves him rather at a +loss when you forbid him his particular work, which I believe is +something very deep indeedin the line of research, you know. I would +never give way to that; I was always versatile. But a clergyman is tied +a little tight. If they would make him a bishop, now!he did a very +good pamphlet for Peel. He would have more movement then, more show; he +might get a little flesh. But I recommend you to talk to Mrs. Casaubon. +She is clever enough for anything, is my niece. Tell her, her husband +wants liveliness, diversion: put her on amusing tactics. + +Without Mr. Brookes advice, Lydgate had determined on speaking to +Dorothea. She had not been present while her uncle was throwing out his +pleasant suggestions as to the mode in which life at Lowick might be +enlivened, but she was usually by her husbands side, and the +unaffected signs of intense anxiety in her face and voice about +whatever touched his mind or health, made a drama which Lydgate was +inclined to watch. He said to himself that he was only doing right in +telling her the truth about her husbands probable future, but he +certainly thought also that it would be interesting to talk +confidentially with her. A medical man likes to make psychological +observations, and sometimes in the pursuit of such studies is too +easily tempted into momentous prophecy which life and death easily set +at nought. Lydgate had often been satirical on this gratuitous +prediction, and he meant now to be guarded. + +He asked for Mrs. Casaubon, but being told that she was out walking, he +was going away, when Dorothea and Celia appeared, both glowing from +their struggle with the March wind. When Lydgate begged to speak with +her alone, Dorothea opened the library door which happened to be the +nearest, thinking of nothing at the moment but what he might have to +say about Mr. Casaubon. It was the first time she had entered this room +since her husband had been taken ill, and the servant had chosen not to +open the shutters. But there was light enough to read by from the +narrow upper panes of the windows. + +You will not mind this sombre light, said Dorothea, standing in the +middle of the room. Since you forbade books, the library has been out +of the question. But Mr. Casaubon will soon be here again, I hope. Is +he not making progress? + +Yes, much more rapid progress than I at first expected. Indeed, he is +already nearly in his usual state of health. + +You do not fear that the illness will return? said Dorothea, whose +quick ear had detected some significance in Lydgates tone. + +Such cases are peculiarly difficult to pronounce upon, said Lydgate. +The only point on which I can be confident is that it will be +desirable to be very watchful on Mr. Casaubons account, lest he should +in any way strain his nervous power. + +I beseech you to speak quite plainly, said Dorothea, in an imploring +tone. I cannot bear to think that there might be something which I did +not know, and which, if I had known it, would have made me act +differently. The words came out like a cry: it was evident that they +were the voice of some mental experience which lay not very far off. + +Sit down, she added, placing herself on the nearest chair, and +throwing off her bonnet and gloves, with an instinctive discarding of +formality where a great question of destiny was concerned. + +What you say now justifies my own view, said Lydgate. I think it is +ones function as a medical man to hinder regrets of that sort as far +as possible. But I beg you to observe that Mr. Casaubons case is +precisely of the kind in which the issue is most difficult to pronounce +upon. He may possibly live for fifteen years or more, without much +worse health than he has had hitherto. + +Dorothea had turned very pale, and when Lydgate paused she said in a +low voice, You mean if we are very careful. + +Yescareful against mental agitation of all kinds, and against +excessive application. + +He would be miserable, if he had to give up his work, said Dorothea, +with a quick prevision of that wretchedness. + +I am aware of that. The only course is to try by all means, direct and +indirect, to moderate and vary his occupations. With a happy +concurrence of circumstances, there is, as I said, no immediate danger +from that affection of the heart, which I believe to have been the +cause of his late attack. On the other hand, it is possible that the +disease may develop itself more rapidly: it is one of those cases in +which death is sometimes sudden. Nothing should be neglected which +might be affected by such an issue. + +There was silence for a few moments, while Dorothea sat as if she had +been turned to marble, though the life within her was so intense that +her mind had never before swept in brief time over an equal range of +scenes and motives. + +Help me, pray, she said, at last, in the same low voice as before. +Tell me what I can do. + +What do you think of foreign travel? You have been lately in Rome, I +think. + +The memories which made this resource utterly hopeless were a new +current that shook Dorothea out of her pallid immobility. + +Oh, that would not dothat would be worse than anything, she said +with a more childlike despondency, while the tears rolled down. +Nothing will be of any use that he does not enjoy. + +I wish that I could have spared you this pain, said Lydgate, deeply +touched, yet wondering about her marriage. Women just like Dorothea had +not entered into his traditions. + +It was right of you to tell me. I thank you for telling me the truth. + +I wish you to understand that I shall not say anything to enlighten +Mr. Casaubon himself. I think it desirable for him to know nothing more +than that he must not overwork himself, and must observe certain rules. +Anxiety of any kind would be precisely the most unfavorable condition +for him. + +Lydgate rose, and Dorothea mechanically rose at the same time, +unclasping her cloak and throwing it off as if it stifled her. He was +bowing and quitting her, when an impulse which if she had been alone +would have turned into a prayer, made her say with a sob in her voice + +Oh, you are a wise man, are you not? You know all about life and +death. Advise me. Think what I can do. He has been laboring all his +life and looking forward. He minds about nothing else. And I mind +about nothing else + +For years after Lydgate remembered the impression produced in him by +this involuntary appealthis cry from soul to soul, without other +consciousness than their moving with kindred natures in the same +embroiled medium, the same troublous fitfully illuminated life. But +what could he say now except that he should see Mr. Casaubon again +to-morrow? + +When he was gone, Dorotheas tears gushed forth, and relieved her +stifling oppression. Then she dried her eyes, reminded that her +distress must not be betrayed to her husband; and looked round the room +thinking that she must order the servant to attend to it as usual, +since Mr. Casaubon might now at any moment wish to enter. On his +writing-table there were letters which had lain untouched since the +morning when he was taken ill, and among them, as Dorothea well +remembered, there were young Ladislaws letters, the one addressed to +her still unopened. The associations of these letters had been made the +more painful by that sudden attack of illness which she felt that the +agitation caused by her anger might have helped to bring on: it would +be time enough to read them when they were again thrust upon her, and +she had had no inclination to fetch them from the library. But now it +occurred to her that they should be put out of her husbands sight: +whatever might have been the sources of his annoyance about them, he +must, if possible, not be annoyed again; and she ran her eyes first +over the letter addressed to him to assure herself whether or not it +would be necessary to write in order to hinder the offensive visit. + +Will wrote from Rome, and began by saying that his obligations to Mr. +Casaubon were too deep for all thanks not to seem impertinent. It was +plain that if he were not grateful, he must be the poorest-spirited +rascal who had ever found a generous friend. To expand in wordy thanks +would be like saying, I am honest. But Will had come to perceive that +his defectsdefects which Mr. Casaubon had himself often pointed +toneeded for their correction that more strenuous position which his +relatives generosity had hitherto prevented from being inevitable. He +trusted that he should make the best return, if return were possible, +by showing the effectiveness of the education for which he was +indebted, and by ceasing in future to need any diversion towards +himself of funds on which others might have a better claim. He was +coming to England, to try his fortune, as many other young men were +obliged to do whose only capital was in their brains. His friend +Naumann had desired him to take charge of the Disputethe picture +painted for Mr. Casaubon, with whose permission, and Mrs. Casaubons, +Will would convey it to Lowick in person. A letter addressed to the +Poste Restante in Paris within the fortnight would hinder him, if +necessary, from arriving at an inconvenient moment. He enclosed a +letter to Mrs. Casaubon in which he continued a discussion about art, +begun with her in Rome. + +Opening her own letter Dorothea saw that it was a lively continuation +of his remonstrance with her fanatical sympathy and her want of sturdy +neutral delight in things as they werean outpouring of his young +vivacity which it was impossible to read just now. She had immediately +to consider what was to be done about the other letter: there was still +time perhaps to prevent Will from coming to Lowick. Dorothea ended by +giving the letter to her uncle, who was still in the house, and begging +him to let Will know that Mr. Casaubon had been ill, and that his +health would not allow the reception of any visitors. + +No one more ready than Mr. Brooke to write a letter: his only +difficulty was to write a short one, and his ideas in this case +expanded over the three large pages and the inward foldings. He had +simply said to Dorothea + +To be sure, I will write, my dear. Hes a very clever young +fellowthis young LadislawI dare say will be a rising young man. Its +a good lettermarks his sense of things, you know. However, I will tell +him about Casaubon. + +But the end of Mr. Brookes pen was a thinking organ, evolving +sentences, especially of a benevolent kind, before the rest of his mind +could well overtake them. It expressed regrets and proposed remedies, +which, when Mr. Brooke read them, seemed felicitously +wordedsurprisingly the right thing, and determined a sequel which he +had never before thought of. In this case, his pen found it such a pity +young Ladislaw should not have come into the neighborhood just at that +time, in order that Mr. Brooke might make his acquaintance more fully, +and that they might go over the long-neglected Italian drawings +togetherit also felt such an interest in a young man who was starting +in life with a stock of ideasthat by the end of the second page it had +persuaded Mr. Brooke to invite young Ladislaw, since he could not be +received at Lowick, to come to Tipton Grange. Why not? They could find +a great many things to do together, and this was a period of peculiar +growththe political horizon was expanding, andin short, Mr. Brookes +pen went off into a little speech which it had lately reported for that +imperfectly edited organ the Middlemarch Pioneer. While Mr. Brooke +was sealing this letter, he felt elated with an influx of dim +projects:a young man capable of putting ideas into form, the Pioneer +purchased to clear the pathway for a new candidate, documents +utilizedwho knew what might come of it all? Since Celia was going to +marry immediately, it would be very pleasant to have a young fellow at +table with him, at least for a time. + +But he went away without telling Dorothea what he had put into the +letter, for she was engaged with her husband, andin fact, these things +were of no importance to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +How will you know the pitch of that great bell +Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute +Play neath the fine-mixed metal: listen close +Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill: +Then shall the huge bell tremblethen the mass +With myriad waves concurrent shall respond +In low soft unison. + + +Lydgate that evening spoke to Miss Vincy of Mrs. Casaubon, and laid +some emphasis on the strong feeling she appeared to have for that +formal studious man thirty years older than herself. + +Of course she is devoted to her husband, said Rosamond, implying a +notion of necessary sequence which the scientific man regarded as the +prettiest possible for a woman; but she was thinking at the same time +that it was not so very melancholy to be mistress of Lowick Manor with +a husband likely to die soon. Do you think her very handsome? + +She certainly is handsome, but I have not thought about it, said +Lydgate. + +I suppose it would be unprofessional, said Rosamond, dimpling. But +how your practice is spreading! You were called in before to the +Chettams, I think; and now, the Casaubons. + +Yes, said Lydgate, in a tone of compulsory admission. But I dont +really like attending such people so well as the poor. The cases are +more monotonous, and one has to go through more fuss and listen more +deferentially to nonsense. + +Not more than in Middlemarch, said Rosamond. And at least you go +through wide corridors and have the scent of rose-leaves everywhere. + +That is true, Mademoiselle de Montmorenci, said Lydgate, just bending +his head to the table and lifting with his fourth finger her delicate +handkerchief which lay at the mouth of her reticule, as if to enjoy its +scent, while he looked at her with a smile. + +But this agreeable holiday freedom with which Lydgate hovered about the +flower of Middlemarch, could not continue indefinitely. It was not more +possible to find social isolation in that town than elsewhere, and two +people persistently flirting could by no means escape from the various +entanglements, weights, blows, clashings, motions, by which things +severally go on. Whatever Miss Vincy did must be remarked, and she was +perhaps the more conspicuous to admirers and critics because just now +Mrs. Vincy, after some struggle, had gone with Fred to stay a little +while at Stone Court, there being no other way of at once gratifying +old Featherstone and keeping watch against Mary Garth, who appeared a +less tolerable daughter-in-law in proportion as Freds illness +disappeared. + +Aunt Bulstrode, for example, came a little oftener into Lowick Gate to +see Rosamond, now she was alone. For Mrs. Bulstrode had a true sisterly +feeling for her brother; always thinking that he might have married +better, but wishing well to the children. Now Mrs. Bulstrode had a +long-standing intimacy with Mrs. Plymdale. They had nearly the same +preferences in silks, patterns for underclothing, china-ware, and +clergymen; they confided their little troubles of health and household +management to each other, and various little points of superiority on +Mrs. Bulstrodes side, namely, more decided seriousness, more +admiration for mind, and a house outside the town, sometimes served to +give color to their conversation without dividing themwell-meaning +women both, knowing very little of their own motives. + +Mrs. Bulstrode, paying a morning visit to Mrs. Plymdale, happened to +say that she could not stay longer, because she was going to see poor +Rosamond. + +Why do you say poor Rosamond? said Mrs. Plymdale, a round-eyed +sharp little woman, like a tamed falcon. + +She is so pretty, and has been brought up in such thoughtlessness. The +mother, you know, had always that levity about her, which makes me +anxious for the children. + +Well, Harriet, if I am to speak my mind, said Mrs. Plymdale, with +emphasis, I must say, anybody would suppose you and Mr. Bulstrode +would be delighted with what has happened, for you have done everything +to put Mr. Lydgate forward. + +Selina, what do you mean? said Mrs. Bulstrode, in genuine surprise. + +Not but what I am truly thankful for Neds sake, said Mrs. Plymdale. +He could certainly better afford to keep such a wife than some people +can; but I should wish him to look elsewhere. Still a mother has +anxieties, and some young men would take to a bad life in consequence. +Besides, if I was obliged to speak, I should say I was not fond of +strangers coming into a town. + +I dont know, Selina, said Mrs. Bulstrode, with a little emphasis in +her turn. Mr. Bulstrode was a stranger here at one time. Abraham and +Moses were strangers in the land, and we are told to entertain +strangers. And especially, she added, after a slight pause, when they +are unexceptionable. + +I was not speaking in a religious sense, Harriet. I spoke as a +mother. + +Selina, I am sure you have never heard me say anything against a niece +of mine marrying your son. + +Oh, it is pride in Miss VincyI am sure it is nothing else, said Mrs. +Plymdale, who had never before given all her confidence to Harriet on +this subject. No young man in Middlemarch was good enough for her: I +have heard her mother say as much. That is not a Christian spirit, I +think. But now, from all I hear, she has found a man as proud as +herself. + +You dont mean that there is anything between Rosamond and Mr. +Lydgate? said Mrs. Bulstrode, rather mortified at finding out her own +ignorance. + +Is it possible you dont know, Harriet? + +Oh, I go about so little; and I am not fond of gossip; I really never +hear any. You see so many people that I dont see. Your circle is +rather different from ours. + +Well, but your own niece and Mr. Bulstrodes great favoriteand yours +too, I am sure, Harriet! I thought, at one time, you meant him for +Kate, when she is a little older. + +I dont believe there can be anything serious at present, said Mrs. +Bulstrode. My brother would certainly have told me. + +Well, people have different ways, but I understand that nobody can see +Miss Vincy and Mr. Lydgate together without taking them to be engaged. +However, it is not my business. Shall I put up the pattern of mittens? + +After this Mrs. Bulstrode drove to her niece with a mind newly +weighted. She was herself handsomely dressed, but she noticed with a +little more regret than usual that Rosamond, who was just come in and +met her in walking-dress, was almost as expensively equipped. Mrs. +Bulstrode was a feminine smaller edition of her brother, and had none +of her husbands low-toned pallor. She had a good honest glance and +used no circumlocution. + +You are alone, I see, my dear, she said, as they entered the +drawing-room together, looking round gravely. Rosamond felt sure that +her aunt had something particular to say, and they sat down near each +other. Nevertheless, the quilling inside Rosamonds bonnet was so +charming that it was impossible not to desire the same kind of thing +for Kate, and Mrs. Bulstrodes eyes, which were rather fine, rolled +round that ample quilled circuit, while she spoke. + +I have just heard something about you that has surprised me very much, +Rosamond. + +What is that, aunt? Rosamonds eyes also were roaming over her aunts +large embroidered collar. + +I can hardly believe itthat you should be engaged without my knowing +itwithout your fathers telling me. Here Mrs. Bulstrodes eyes +finally rested on Rosamonds, who blushed deeply, and said + +I am not engaged, aunt. + +How is it that every one says so, thenthat it is the towns talk? + +The towns talk is of very little consequence, I think, said +Rosamond, inwardly gratified. + +Oh, my dear, be more thoughtful; dont despise your neighbors so. +Remember you are turned twenty-two now, and you will have no fortune: +your father, I am sure, will not be able to spare you anything. Mr. +Lydgate is very intellectual and clever; I know there is an attraction +in that. I like talking to such men myself; and your uncle finds him +very useful. But the profession is a poor one here. To be sure, this +life is not everything; but it is seldom a medical man has true +religious viewsthere is too much pride of intellect. And you are not +fit to marry a poor man. + +Mr. Lydgate is not a poor man, aunt. He has very high connections. + +He told me himself he was poor. + +That is because he is used to people who have a high style of living. + +My dear Rosamond, _you_ must not think of living in high style. + +Rosamond looked down and played with her reticule. She was not a fiery +young lady and had no sharp answers, but she meant to live as she +pleased. + +Then it is really true? said Mrs. Bulstrode, looking very earnestly +at her niece. You are thinking of Mr. Lydgatethere is some +understanding between you, though your father doesnt know. Be open, my +dear Rosamond: Mr. Lydgate has really made you an offer? + +Poor Rosamonds feelings were very unpleasant. She had been quite easy +as to Lydgates feeling and intention, but now when her aunt put this +question she did not like being unable to say Yes. Her pride was hurt, +but her habitual control of manner helped her. + +Pray excuse me, aunt. I would rather not speak on the subject. + +You would not give your heart to a man without a decided prospect, I +trust, my dear. And think of the two excellent offers I know of that +you have refused!and one still within your reach, if you will not +throw it away. I knew a very great beauty who married badly at last, by +doing so. Mr. Ned Plymdale is a nice young mansome might think +good-looking; and an only son; and a large business of that kind is +better than a profession. Not that marrying is everything. I would have +you seek first the kingdom of God. But a girl should keep her heart +within her own power. + +I should never give it to Mr. Ned Plymdale, if it were. I have already +refused him. If I loved, I should love at once and without change, +said Rosamond, with a great sense of being a romantic heroine, and +playing the part prettily. + +I see how it is, my dear, said Mrs. Bulstrode, in a melancholy voice, +rising to go. You have allowed your affections to be engaged without +return. + +No, indeed, aunt, said Rosamond, with emphasis. + +Then you are quite confident that Mr. Lydgate has a serious attachment +to you? + +Rosamonds cheeks by this time were persistently burning, and she felt +much mortification. She chose to be silent, and her aunt went away all +the more convinced. + +Mr. Bulstrode in things worldly and indifferent was disposed to do what +his wife bade him, and she now, without telling her reasons, desired +him on the next opportunity to find out in conversation with Mr. +Lydgate whether he had any intention of marrying soon. The result was a +decided negative. Mr. Bulstrode, on being cross-questioned, showed that +Lydgate had spoken as no man would who had any attachment that could +issue in matrimony. Mrs. Bulstrode now felt that she had a serious duty +before her, and she soon managed to arrange a _tte--tte_ with +Lydgate, in which she passed from inquiries about Fred Vincys health, +and expressions of her sincere anxiety for her brothers large family, +to general remarks on the dangers which lay before young people with +regard to their settlement in life. Young men were often wild and +disappointing, making little return for the money spent on them, and a +girl was exposed to many circumstances which might interfere with her +prospects. + +Especially when she has great attractions, and her parents see much +company, said Mrs. Bulstrode. Gentlemen pay her attention, and +engross her all to themselves, for the mere pleasure of the moment, and +that drives off others. I think it is a heavy responsibility, Mr. +Lydgate, to interfere with the prospects of any girl. Here Mrs. +Bulstrode fixed her eyes on him, with an unmistakable purpose of +warning, if not of rebuke. + +Clearly, said Lydgate, looking at herperhaps even staring a little +in return. On the other hand, a man must be a great coxcomb to go +about with a notion that he must not pay attention to a young lady lest +she should fall in love with him, or lest others should think she +must. + +Oh, Mr. Lydgate, you know well what your advantages are. You know that +our young men here cannot cope with you. Where you frequent a house it +may militate very much against a girls making a desirable settlement +in life, and prevent her from accepting offers even if they are made. + +Lydgate was less flattered by his advantage over the Middlemarch +Orlandos than he was annoyed by the perception of Mrs. Bulstrodes +meaning. She felt that she had spoken as impressively as it was +necessary to do, and that in using the superior word militate she had +thrown a noble drapery over a mass of particulars which were still +evident enough. + +Lydgate was fuming a little, pushed his hair back with one hand, felt +curiously in his waistcoat-pocket with the other, and then stooped to +beckon the tiny black spaniel, which had the insight to decline his +hollow caresses. It would not have been decent to go away, because he +had been dining with other guests, and had just taken tea. But Mrs. +Bulstrode, having no doubt that she had been understood, turned the +conversation. + +Solomons Proverbs, I think, have omitted to say, that as the sore +palate findeth grit, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes. The +next day Mr. Farebrother, parting from Lydgate in the street, supposed +that they should meet at Vincys in the evening. Lydgate answered +curtly, nohe had work to dohe must give up going out in the evening. + +What! you are going to get lashed to the mast, eh, and are stopping +your ears? said the Vicar. Well, if you dont mean to be won by the +sirens, you are right to take precautions in time. + +A few days before, Lydgate would have taken no notice of these words as +anything more than the Vicars usual way of putting things. They seemed +now to convey an innuendo which confirmed the impression that he had +been making a fool of himself and behaving so as to be misunderstood: +not, he believed, by Rosamond herself; she, he felt sure, took +everything as lightly as he intended it. She had an exquisite tact and +insight in relation to all points of manners; but the people she lived +among were blunderers and busybodies. However, the mistake should go no +farther. He resolvedand kept his resolutionthat he would not go to +Mr. Vincys except on business. + +Rosamond became very unhappy. The uneasiness first stirred by her +aunts questions grew and grew till at the end of ten days that she had +not seen Lydgate, it grew into terror at the blank that might possibly +comeinto foreboding of that ready, fatal sponge which so cheaply wipes +out the hopes of mortals. The world would have a new dreariness for +her, as a wilderness that a magicians spells had turned for a little +while into a garden. She felt that she was beginning to know the pang +of disappointed love, and that no other man could be the occasion of +such delightful aerial building as she had been enjoying for the last +six months. Poor Rosamond lost her appetite and felt as forlorn as +Ariadneas a charming stage Ariadne left behind with all her boxes full +of costumes and no hope of a coach. + +There are many wonderful mixtures in the world which are all alike +called love, and claim the privileges of a sublime rage which is an +apology for everything (in literature and the drama). Happily Rosamond +did not think of committing any desperate act: she plaited her fair +hair as beautifully as usual, and kept herself proudly calm. Her most +cheerful supposition was that her aunt Bulstrode had interfered in some +way to hinder Lydgates visits: everything was better than a +spontaneous indifference in him. Any one who imagines ten days too +short a timenot for falling into leanness, lightness, or other +measurable effects of passion, butfor the whole spiritual circuit of +alarmed conjecture and disappointment, is ignorant of what can go on in +the elegant leisure of a young ladys mind. + +On the eleventh day, however, Lydgate when leaving Stone Court was +requested by Mrs. Vincy to let her husband know that there was a marked +change in Mr. Featherstones health, and that she wished him to come to +Stone Court on that day. Now Lydgate might have called at the +warehouse, or might have written a message on a leaf of his pocket-book +and left it at the door. Yet these simple devices apparently did not +occur to him, from which we may conclude that he had no strong +objection to calling at the house at an hour when Mr. Vincy was not at +home, and leaving the message with Miss Vincy. A man may, from various +motives, decline to give his company, but perhaps not even a sage would +be gratified that nobody missed him. It would be a graceful, easy way +of piecing on the new habits to the old, to have a few playful words +with Rosamond about his resistance to dissipation, and his firm resolve +to take long fasts even from sweet sounds. It must be confessed, also, +that momentary speculations as to all the possible grounds for Mrs. +Bulstrodes hints had managed to get woven like slight clinging hairs +into the more substantial web of his thoughts. + +Miss Vincy was alone, and blushed so deeply when Lydgate came in that +he felt a corresponding embarrassment, and instead of any playfulness, +he began at once to speak of his reason for calling, and to beg her, +almost formally, to deliver the message to her father. Rosamond, who at +the first moment felt as if her happiness were returning, was keenly +hurt by Lydgates manner; her blush had departed, and she assented +coldly, without adding an unnecessary word, some trivial chain-work +which she had in her hands enabling her to avoid looking at Lydgate +higher than his chin. In all failures, the beginning is certainly the +half of the whole. After sitting two long moments while he moved his +whip and could say nothing, Lydgate rose to go, and Rosamond, made +nervous by her struggle between mortification and the wish not to +betray it, dropped her chain as if startled, and rose too, +mechanically. Lydgate instantaneously stooped to pick up the chain. +When he rose he was very near to a lovely little face set on a fair +long neck which he had been used to see turning about under the most +perfect management of self-contented grace. But as he raised his eyes +now he saw a certain helpless quivering which touched him quite newly, +and made him look at Rosamond with a questioning flash. At this moment +she was as natural as she had ever been when she was five years old: +she felt that her tears had risen, and it was no use to try to do +anything else than let them stay like water on a blue flower or let +them fall over her cheeks, even as they would. + +That moment of naturalness was the crystallizing feather-touch: it +shook flirtation into love. Remember that the ambitious man who was +looking at those Forget-me-nots under the water was very warm-hearted +and rash. He did not know where the chain went; an idea had thrilled +through the recesses within him which had a miraculous effect in +raising the power of passionate love lying buried there in no sealed +sepulchre, but under the lightest, easily pierced mould. His words were +quite abrupt and awkward; but the tone made them sound like an ardent, +appealing avowal. + +What is the matter? you are distressed. Tell me, pray. + +Rosamond had never been spoken to in such tones before. I am not sure +that she knew what the words were: but she looked at Lydgate and the +tears fell over her cheeks. There could have been no more complete +answer than that silence, and Lydgate, forgetting everything else, +completely mastered by the outrush of tenderness at the sudden belief +that this sweet young creature depended on him for her joy, actually +put his arms round her, folding her gently and protectinglyhe was used +to being gentle with the weak and sufferingand kissed each of the two +large tears. This was a strange way of arriving at an understanding, +but it was a short way. Rosamond was not angry, but she moved backward +a little in timid happiness, and Lydgate could now sit near her and +speak less incompletely. Rosamond had to make her little confession, +and he poured out words of gratitude and tenderness with impulsive +lavishment. In half an hour he left the house an engaged man, whose +soul was not his own, but the womans to whom he had bound himself. + +He came again in the evening to speak with Mr. Vincy, who, just +returned from Stone Court, was feeling sure that it would not be long +before he heard of Mr. Featherstones demise. The felicitous word +demise, which had seasonably occurred to him, had raised his spirits +even above their usual evening pitch. The right word is always a power, +and communicates its definiteness to our action. Considered as a +demise, old Featherstones death assumed a merely legal aspect, so that +Mr. Vincy could tap his snuff-box over it and be jovial, without even +an intermittent affectation of solemnity; and Mr. Vincy hated both +solemnity and affectation. Who was ever awe struck about a testator, or +sang a hymn on the title to real property? Mr. Vincy was inclined to +take a jovial view of all things that evening: he even observed to +Lydgate that Fred had got the family constitution after all, and would +soon be as fine a fellow as ever again; and when his approbation of +Rosamonds engagement was asked for, he gave it with astonishing +facility, passing at once to general remarks on the desirableness of +matrimony for young men and maidens, and apparently deducing from the +whole the appropriateness of a little more punch. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +Theyll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. +SHAKESPEARE: _Tempest_. + + +The triumphant confidence of the Mayor founded on Mr. Featherstones +insistent demand that Fred and his mother should not leave him, was a +feeble emotion compared with all that was agitating the breasts of the +old mans blood-relations, who naturally manifested more their sense of +the family tie and were more visibly numerous now that he had become +bedridden. Naturally: for when poor Peter had occupied his arm-chair +in the wainscoted parlor, no assiduous beetles for whom the cook +prepares boiling water could have been less welcome on a hearth which +they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone +blood was ill-nourished, not from penuriousness on their part, but from +poverty. Brother Solomon and Sister Jane were rich, and the family +candor and total abstinence from false politeness with which they were +always received seemed to them no argument that their brother in the +solemn act of making his will would overlook the superior claims of +wealth. Themselves at least he had never been unnatural enough to +banish from his house, and it seemed hardly eccentric that he should +have kept away Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and the rest, who had no +shadow of such claims. They knew Peters maxim, that money was a good +egg, and should be laid in a warm nest. + +But Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and all the needy exiles, held a +different point of view. Probabilities are as various as the faces to +be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form is there, +from Jupiter to Judy, if you only look with creative inclination. To +the poorer and least favored it seemed likely that since Peter had done +nothing for them in his life, he would remember them at the last. Jonah +argued that men liked to make a surprise of their wills, while Martha +said that nobody need be surprised if he left the best part of his +money to those who least expected it. Also it was not to be thought but +that an own brother lying there with dropsy in his legs must come to +feel that blood was thicker than water, and if he didnt alter his +will, he might have money by him. At any rate some blood-relations +should be on the premises and on the watch against those who were +hardly relations at all. Such things had been known as forged wills and +disputed wills, which seemed to have the golden-hazy advantage of +somehow enabling non-legatees to live out of them. Again, those who +were no blood-relations might be caught making away with thingsand +poor Peter lying there helpless! Somebody should be on the watch. But +in this conclusion they were at one with Solomon and Jane; also, some +nephews, nieces, and cousins, arguing with still greater subtilty as to +what might be done by a man able to will away his property and give +himself large treats of oddity, felt in a handsome sort of way that +there was a family interest to be attended to, and thought of Stone +Court as a place which it would be nothing but right for them to visit. +Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Cranch, living with some wheeziness in +the Chalky Flats, could not undertake the journey; but her son, as +being poor Peters own nephew, could represent her advantageously, and +watch lest his uncle Jonah should make an unfair use of the improbable +things which seemed likely to happen. In fact there was a general sense +running in the Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody +else, and that it would be well for everybody else to reflect that the +Almighty was watching him. + +Thus Stone Court continually saw one or other blood-relation alighting +or departing, and Mary Garth had the unpleasant task of carrying their +messages to Mr. Featherstone, who would see none of them, and sent her +down with the still more unpleasant task of telling them so. As manager +of the household she felt bound to ask them in good provincial fashion +to stay and eat; but she chose to consult Mrs. Vincy on the point of +extra down-stairs consumption now that Mr. Featherstone was laid up. + +Oh, my dear, you must do things handsomely where theres last illness +and a property. God knows, I dont grudge them every ham in the +houseonly, save the best for the funeral. Have some stuffed veal +always, and a fine cheese in cut. You must expect to keep open house in +these last illnesses, said liberal Mrs. Vincy, once more of cheerful +note and bright plumage. + +But some of the visitors alighted and did not depart after the handsome +treating to veal and ham. Brother Jonah, for example (there are such +unpleasant people in most families; perhaps even in the highest +aristocracy there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and +bloated at greater expense)Brother Jonah, I say, having come down in +the world, was mainly supported by a calling which he was modest enough +not to boast of, though it was much better than swindling either on +exchange or turf, but which did not require his presence at Brassing so +long as he had a good corner to sit in and a supply of food. He chose +the kitchen-corner, partly because he liked it best, and partly because +he did not want to sit with Solomon, concerning whom he had a strong +brotherly opinion. Seated in a famous arm-chair and in his best suit, +constantly within sight of good cheer, he had a comfortable +consciousness of being on the premises, mingled with fleeting +suggestions of Sunday and the bar at the Green Man; and he informed +Mary Garth that he should not go out of reach of his brother Peter +while that poor fellow was above ground. The troublesome ones in a +family are usually either the wits or the idiots. Jonah was the wit +among the Featherstones, and joked with the maid-servants when they +came about the hearth, but seemed to consider Miss Garth a suspicious +character, and followed her with cold eyes. + +Mary would have borne this one pair of eyes with comparative ease, but +unfortunately there was young Cranch, who, having come all the way from +the Chalky Flats to represent his mother and watch his uncle Jonah, +also felt it his duty to stay and to sit chiefly in the kitchen to give +his uncle company. Young Cranch was not exactly the balancing point +between the wit and the idiot,verging slightly towards the latter +type, and squinting so as to leave everything in doubt about his +sentiments except that they were not of a forcible character. When Mary +Garth entered the kitchen and Mr. Jonah Featherstone began to follow +her with his cold detective eyes, young Cranch turning his head in the +same direction seemed to insist on it that she should remark how he was +squinting, as if he did it with design, like the gypsies when Borrow +read the New Testament to them. This was rather too much for poor Mary; +sometimes it made her bilious, sometimes it upset her gravity. One day +that she had an opportunity she could not resist describing the kitchen +scene to Fred, who would not be hindered from immediately going to see +it, affecting simply to pass through. But no sooner did he face the +four eyes than he had to rush through the nearest door which happened +to lead to the dairy, and there under the high roof and among the pans +he gave way to laughter which made a hollow resonance perfectly audible +in the kitchen. He fled by another doorway, but Mr. Jonah, who had not +before seen Freds white complexion, long legs, and pinched delicacy of +face, prepared many sarcasms in which these points of appearance were +wittily combined with the lowest moral attributes. + +Why, Tom, _you_ dont wear such gentlemanly trousersyou havent got +half such fine long legs, said Jonah to his nephew, winking at the +same time, to imply that there was something more in these statements +than their undeniableness. Tom looked at his legs, but left it +uncertain whether he preferred his moral advantages to a more vicious +length of limb and reprehensible gentility of trouser. + +In the large wainscoted parlor too there were constantly pairs of eyes +on the watch, and own relatives eager to be sitters-up. Many came, +lunched, and departed, but Brother Solomon and the lady who had been +Jane Featherstone for twenty-five years before she was Mrs. Waule found +it good to be there every day for hours, without other calculable +occupation than that of observing the cunning Mary Garth (who was so +deep that she could be found out in nothing) and giving occasional dry +wrinkly indications of cryingas if capable of torrents in a wetter +seasonat the thought that they were not allowed to go into Mr. +Featherstones room. For the old mans dislike of his own family seemed +to get stronger as he got less able to amuse himself by saying biting +things to them. Too languid to sting, he had the more venom refluent in +his blood. + +Not fully believing the message sent through Mary Garth, they had +presented themselves together within the door of the bedroom, both in +blackMrs. Waule having a white handkerchief partially unfolded in her +handand both with faces in a sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs. +Vincy with her pink cheeks and pink ribbons flying was actually +administering a cordial to their own brother, and the +light-complexioned Fred, his short hair curling as might be expected in +a gamblers, was lolling at his ease in a large chair. + +Old Featherstone no sooner caught sight of these funereal figures +appearing in spite of his orders than rage came to strengthen him more +successfully than the cordial. He was propped up on a bed-rest, and +always had his gold-headed stick lying by him. He seized it now and +swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he could, +apparently to ban these ugly spectres, crying in a hoarse sort of +screech + +Back, back, Mrs. Waule! Back, Solomon! + +Oh, Brother. Peter, Mrs. Waule beganbut Solomon put his hand before +her repressingly. He was a large-cheeked man, nearly seventy, with +small furtive eyes, and was not only of much blander temper but thought +himself much deeper than his brother Peter; indeed not likely to be +deceived in any of his fellow-men, inasmuch as they could not well be +more greedy and deceitful than he suspected them of being. Even the +invisible powers, he thought, were likely to be soothed by a bland +parenthesis here and therecoming from a man of property, who might +have been as impious as others. + +Brother Peter, he said, in a wheedling yet gravely official tone, +Its nothing but right I should speak to you about the Three Crofts +and the Manganese. The Almighty knows what Ive got on my mind + +Then he knows more than I want to know, said Peter, laying down his +stick with a show of truce which had a threat in it too, for he +reversed the stick so as to make the gold handle a club in case of +closer fighting, and looked hard at Solomons bald head. + +Theres things you might repent of, Brother, for want of speaking to +me, said Solomon, not advancing, however. I could sit up with you +to-night, and Jane with me, willingly, and you might take your own time +to speak, or let me speak. + +Yes, I shall take my own timeyou neednt offer me yours, said Peter. + +But you cant take your own time to die in, Brother, began Mrs. +Waule, with her usual woolly tone. And when you lie speechless you may +be tired of having strangers about you, and you may think of me and my +childrenbut here her voice broke under the touching thought which she +was attributing to her speechless brother; the mention of ourselves +being naturally affecting. + +No, I shant, said old Featherstone, contradictiously. I shant +think of any of you. Ive made my will, I tell you, Ive made my will. +Here he turned his head towards Mrs. Vincy, and swallowed some more of +his cordial. + +Some people would be ashamed to fill up a place belonging by rights to +others, said Mrs. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the same +direction. + +Oh, sister, said Solomon, with ironical softness, you and me are not +fine, and handsome, and clever enough: we must be humble and let smart +people push themselves before us. + +Freds spirit could not bear this: rising and looking at Mr. +Featherstone, he said, Shall my mother and I leave the room, sir, that +you may be alone with your friends? + +Sit down, I tell you, said old Featherstone, snappishly. Stop where +you are. Good-by, Solomon, he added, trying to wield his stick again, +but failing now that he had reversed the handle. Good-by, Mrs. Waule. +Dont you come again. + +I shall be down-stairs, Brother, whether or no, said Solomon. I +shall do my duty, and it remains to be seen what the Almighty will +allow. + +Yes, in property going out of families, said Mrs. Waule, in +continuation,and where theres steady young men to carry on. But I +pity them who are not such, and I pity their mothers. Good-by, Brother +Peter. + +Remember, Im the eldest after you, Brother, and prospered from the +first, just as you did, and have got land already by the name of +Featherstone, said Solomon, relying much on that reflection, as one +which might be suggested in the watches of the night. But I bid you +good-by for the present. + +Their exit was hastened by their seeing old Mr. Featherstone pull his +wig on each side and shut his eyes with his mouth-widening grimace, as +if he were determined to be deaf and blind. + +None the less they came to Stone Court daily and sat below at the post +of duty, sometimes carrying on a slow dialogue in an undertone in which +the observation and response were so far apart, that any one hearing +them might have imagined himself listening to speaking automata, in +some doubt whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, or wind +itself up for a long time in order to stick and be silent. Solomon and +Jane would have been sorry to be quick: what that led to might be seen +on the other side of the wall in the person of Brother Jonah. + +But their watch in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the +presence of other guests from far or near. Now that Peter Featherstone +was up-stairs, his property could be discussed with all that local +enlightenment to be found on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch +neighbors expressed much agreement with the family and sympathy with +their interest against the Vincys, and feminine visitors were even +moved to tears, in conversation with Mrs. Waule, when they recalled the +fact that they themselves had been disappointed in times past by +codicils and marriages for spite on the part of ungrateful elderly +gentlemen, who, it might have been supposed, had been spared for +something better. Such conversation paused suddenly, like an organ when +the bellows are let drop, if Mary Garth came into the room; and all +eyes were turned on her as a possible legatee, or one who might get +access to iron chests. + +But the younger men who were relatives or connections of the family, +were disposed to admire her in this problematic light, as a girl who +showed much conduct, and who among all the chances that were flying +might turn out to be at least a moderate prize. Hence she had her share +of compliments and polite attentions. + +Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, a distinguished bachelor and +auctioneer of those parts, much concerned in the sale of land and +cattle: a public character, indeed, whose name was seen on widely +distributed placards, and who might reasonably be sorry for those who +did not know of him. He was second cousin to Peter Featherstone, and +had been treated by him with more amenity than any other relative, +being useful in matters of business; and in that programme of his +funeral which the old man had himself dictated, he had been named as a +Bearer. There was no odious cupidity in Mr. Borthrop Trumbullnothing +more than a sincere sense of his own merit, which, he was aware, in +case of rivalry might tell against competitors; so that if Peter +Featherstone, who so far as he, Trumbull, was concerned, had behaved +like as good a soul as ever breathed, should have done anything +handsome by him, all he could say was, that he had never fished and +fawned, but had advised him to the best of his experience, which now +extended over twenty years from the time of his apprenticeship at +fifteen, and was likely to yield a knowledge of no surreptitious kind. +His admiration was far from being confined to himself, but was +accustomed professionally as well as privately to delight in estimating +things at a high rate. He was an amateur of superior phrases, and never +used poor language without immediately correcting himselfwhich was +fortunate, as he was rather loud, and given to predominate, standing or +walking about frequently, pulling down his waistcoat with the air of a +man who is very much of his own opinion, trimming himself rapidly with +his fore-finger, and marking each new series in these movements by a +busy play with his large seals. There was occasionally a little +fierceness in his demeanor, but it was directed chiefly against false +opinion, of which there is so much to correct in the world that a man +of some reading and experience necessarily has his patience tried. He +felt that the Featherstone family generally was of limited +understanding, but being a man of the world and a public character, +took everything as a matter of course, and even went to converse with +Mr. Jonah and young Cranch in the kitchen, not doubting that he had +impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the +Chalky Flats. If anybody had observed that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, being +an auctioneer, was bound to know the nature of everything, he would +have smiled and trimmed himself silently with the sense that he came +pretty near that. On the whole, in an auctioneering way, he was an +honorable man, not ashamed of his business, and feeling that the +celebrated Peel, now Sir Robert, if introduced to him, would not fail +to recognize his importance. + +I dont mind if I have a slice of that ham, and a glass of that ale, +Miss Garth, if you will allow me, he said, coming into the parlor at +half-past eleven, after having had the exceptional privilege of seeing +old Featherstone, and standing with his back to the fire between Mrs. +Waule and Solomon. + +Its not necessary for you to go out;let me ring the bell. + +Thank you, said Mary, I have an errand. + +Well, Mr. Trumbull, youre highly favored, said Mrs. Waule. + +What! seeing the old man? said the auctioneer, playing with his seals +dispassionately. Ah, you see he has relied on me considerably. Here +he pressed his lips together, and frowned meditatively. + +Might anybody ask what their brother has been saying? said Solomon, +in a soft tone of humility, in which he had a sense of luxurious +cunning, he being a rich man and not in need of it. + +Oh yes, anybody may ask, said Mr. Trumbull, with loud and +good-humored though cutting sarcasm. Anybody may interrogate. Any one +may give their remarks an interrogative turn, he continued, his +sonorousness rising with his style. This is constantly done by good +speakers, even when they anticipate no answer. It is what we call a +figure of speechspeech at a high figure, as one may say. The eloquent +auctioneer smiled at his own ingenuity. + +I shouldnt be sorry to hear hed remembered you, Mr. Trumbull, said +Solomon. I never was against the deserving. Its the undeserving Im +against. + +Ah, there it is, you see, there it is, said Mr. Trumbull, +significantly. It cant be denied that undeserving people have been +legatees, and even residuary legatees. It is so, with testamentary +dispositions. Again he pursed up his lips and frowned a little. + +Do you mean to say for certain, Mr. Trumbull, that my brother has left +his land away from our family? said Mrs. Waule, on whom, as an +unhopeful woman, those long words had a depressing effect. + +A man might as well turn his land into charity land at once as leave +it to some people, observed Solomon, his sisters question having +drawn no answer. + +What, Blue-Coat land? said Mrs. Waule, again. Oh, Mr. Trumbull, you +never can mean to say that. It would be flying in the face of the +Almighty thats prospered him. + +While Mrs. Waule was speaking, Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from +the fireplace towards the window, patrolling with his fore-finger round +the inside of his stock, then along his whiskers and the curves of his +hair. He now walked to Miss Garths work-table, opened a book which lay +there and read the title aloud with pompous emphasis as if he were +offering it for sale: + +Anne of Geierstein (pronounced Jeersteen) or the Maiden of the +Mist, by the author of Waverley. Then turning the page, he began +sonorouslyThe course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since +the series of events which are related in the following chapters took +place on the Continent. He pronounced the last truly admirable word +with the accent on the last syllable, not as unaware of vulgar usage, +but feeling that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which +his reading had given to the whole. + +And now the servant came in with the tray, so that the moments for +answering Mrs. Waules question had gone by safely, while she and +Solomon, watching Mr. Trumbulls movements, were thinking that high +learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Mr. Borthrop Trumbull +really knew nothing about old Featherstones will; but he could hardly +have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been arrested +for misprision of treason. + +I shall take a mere mouthful of ham and a glass of ale, he said, +reassuringly. As a man with public business, I take a snack when I +can. I will back this ham, he added, after swallowing some morsels +with alarming haste, against any ham in the three kingdoms. In my +opinion it is better than the hams at Freshitt Halland I think I am a +tolerable judge. + +Some dont like so much sugar in their hams, said Mrs. Waule. But my +poor brother would always have sugar. + +If any person demands better, he is at liberty to do so; but, God +bless me, what an aroma! I should be glad to buy in that quality, I +know. There is some gratification to a gentlemanhere Mr. Trumbulls +voice conveyed an emotional remonstrancein having this kind of ham +set on his table. + +He pushed aside his plate, poured out his glass of ale and drew his +chair a little forward, profiting by the occasion to look at the inner +side of his legs, which he stroked approvinglyMr. Trumbull having all +those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the +predominant races of the north. + +You have an interesting work there, I see, Miss Garth, he observed, +when Mary re-entered. It is by the author of Waverley: that is Sir +Walter Scott. I have bought one of his works myselfa very nice thing, +a very superior publication, entitled Ivanhoe. You will not get any +writer to beat him in a hurry, I thinkhe will not, in my opinion, be +speedily surpassed. I have just been reading a portion at the +commencement of Anne of Jeersteen. It commences well. (Things never +began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they always commenced, both in +private life and on his handbills.) You are a reader, I see. Do you +subscribe to our Middlemarch library? + +No, said Mary. Mr. Fred Vincy brought this book. + +I am a great bookman myself, returned Mr. Trumbull. I have no less +than two hundred volumes in calf, and I flatter myself they are well +selected. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, +and others. I shall be happy to lend you any work you like to mention, +Miss Garth. + +I am much obliged, said Mary, hastening away again, but I have +little time for reading. + +I should say my brother has done something for _her_ in his will, +said Mr. Solomon, in a very low undertone, when she had shut the door +behind her, pointing with his head towards the absent Mary. + +His first wife was a poor match for him, though, said Mrs. Waule. +She brought him nothing: and this young woman is only her niece,and +very proud. And my brother has always paid her wage. + +A sensible girl though, in my opinion, said Mr. Trumbull, finishing +his ale and starting up with an emphatic adjustment of his waistcoat. +I have observed her when she has been mixing medicine in drops. She +minds what she is doing, sir. That is a great point in a woman, and a +great point for our friend up-stairs, poor dear old soul. A man whose +life is of any value should think of his wife as a nurse: that is what +I should do, if I married; and I believe I have lived single long +enough not to make a mistake in that line. Some men must marry to +elevate themselves a little, but when I am in need of that, I hope some +one will tell me soI hope some individual will apprise me of the fact. +I wish you good morning, Mrs. Waule. Good morning, Mr. Solomon. I trust +we shall meet under less melancholy auspices. + +When Mr. Trumbull had departed with a fine bow, Solomon, leaning +forward, observed to his sister, You may depend, Jane, my brother has +left that girl a lumping sum. + +Anybody would think so, from the way Mr. Trumbull talks, said Jane. +Then, after a pause, He talks as if my daughters wasnt to be trusted +to give drops. + +Auctioneers talk wild, said Solomon. Not but what Trumbull has made +money. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close; +And let us all to meditation. +2 _Henry VI_. + + +That night after twelve oclock Mary Garth relieved the watch in Mr. +Featherstones room, and sat there alone through the small hours. She +often chose this task, in which she found some pleasure, +notwithstanding the old mans testiness whenever he demanded her +attentions. There were intervals in which she could sit perfectly +still, enjoying the outer stillness and the subdued light. The red fire +with its gently audible movement seemed like a solemn existence calmly +independent of the petty passions, the imbecile desires, the straining +after worthless uncertainties, which were daily moving her contempt. +Mary was fond of her own thoughts, and could amuse herself well sitting +in twilight with her hands in her lap; for, having early had strong +reason to believe that things were not likely to be arranged for her +peculiar satisfaction, she wasted no time in astonishment and annoyance +at that fact. And she had already come to take life very much as a +comedy in which she had a proud, nay, a generous resolution not to act +the mean or treacherous part. Mary might have become cynical if she had +not had parents whom she honored, and a well of affectionate gratitude +within her, which was all the fuller because she had learned to make no +unreasonable claims. + +She sat to-night revolving, as she was wont, the scenes of the day, her +lips often curling with amusement at the oddities to which her fancy +added fresh drollery: people were so ridiculous with their illusions, +carrying their fools caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque +while everybody elses were transparent, making themselves exceptions +to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they +alone were rosy. Yet there were some illusions under Marys eyes which +were not quite comic to her. She was secretly convinced, though she had +no other grounds than her close observation of old Featherstones +nature, that in spite of his fondness for having the Vincys about him, +they were as likely to be disappointed as any of the relations whom he +kept at a distance. She had a good deal of disdain for Mrs. Vincys +evident alarm lest she and Fred should be alone together, but it did +not hinder her from thinking anxiously of the way in which Fred would +be affected, if it should turn out that his uncle had left him as poor +as ever. She could make a butt of Fred when he was present, but she did +not enjoy his follies when he was absent. + +Yet she liked her thoughts: a vigorous young mind not overbalanced by +passion, finds a good in making acquaintance with life, and watches its +own powers with interest. Mary had plenty of merriment within. + +Her thought was not veined by any solemnity or pathos about the old man +on the bed: such sentiments are easier to affect than to feel about an +aged creature whose life is not visibly anything but a remnant of +vices. She had always seen the most disagreeable side of Mr. +Featherstone: he was not proud of her, and she was only useful to him. +To be anxious about a soul that is always snapping at you must be left +to the saints of the earth; and Mary was not one of them. She had never +returned him a harsh word, and had waited on him faithfully: that was +her utmost. Old Featherstone himself was not in the least anxious about +his soul, and had declined to see Mr. Tucker on the subject. + +To-night he had not snapped, and for the first hour or two he lay +remarkably still, until at last Mary heard him rattling his bunch of +keys against the tin box which he always kept in the bed beside him. +About three oclock he said, with remarkable distinctness, Missy, come +here! + +Mary obeyed, and found that he had already drawn the tin box from under +the clothes, though he usually asked to have this done for him; and he +had selected the key. He now unlocked the box, and, drawing from it +another key, looked straight at her with eyes that seemed to have +recovered all their sharpness and said, How many of em are in the +house? + +You mean of your own relations, sir, said Mary, well used to the old +mans way of speech. He nodded slightly and she went on. + +Mr. Jonah Featherstone and young Cranch are sleeping here. + +Oh ay, they stick, do they? and the restthey come every day, Ill +warrantSolomon and Jane, and all the young uns? They come peeping, and +counting and casting up? + +Not all of them every day. Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Waule are here every +day, and the others come often. + +The old man listened with a grimace while she spoke, and then said, +relaxing his face, The more fools they. You hearken, missy. Its three +oclock in the morning, and Ive got all my faculties as well as ever I +had in my life. I know all my property, and where the moneys put out, +and everything. And Ive made everything ready to change my mind, and +do as I like at the last. Do you hear, missy? Ive got my faculties. + +Well, sir? said Mary, quietly. + +He now lowered his tone with an air of deeper cunning. Ive made two +wills, and Im going to burn one. Now you do as I tell you. This is the +key of my iron chest, in the closet there. You push well at the side of +the brass plate at the top, till it goes like a bolt: then you can put +the key in the front lock and turn it. See and do that; and take out +the topmost paperLast Will and Testamentbig printed. + +No, sir, said Mary, in a firm voice, I cannot do that. + +Not do it? I tell you, you must, said the old man, his voice +beginning to shake under the shock of this resistance. + +I cannot touch your iron chest or your will. I must refuse to do +anything that might lay me open to suspicion. + +I tell you, Im in my right mind. Shant I do as I like at the last? I +made two wills on purpose. Take the key, I say. + +No, sir, I will not, said Mary, more resolutely still. Her repulsion +was getting stronger. + +I tell you, theres no time to lose. + +I cannot help that, sir. I will not let the close of your life soil +the beginning of mine. I will not touch your iron chest or your will. +She moved to a little distance from the bedside. + +The old man paused with a blank stare for a little while, holding the +one key erect on the ring; then with an agitated jerk he began to work +with his bony left hand at emptying the tin box before him. + +Missy, he began to say, hurriedly, look here! take the moneythe +notes and goldlook heretake ityou shall have it alldo as I tell +you. + +He made an effort to stretch out the key towards her as far as +possible, and Mary again retreated. + +I will not touch your key or your money, sir. Pray dont ask me to do +it again. If you do, I must go and call your brother. + +He let his hand fall, and for the first time in her life Mary saw old +Peter Featherstone begin to cry childishly. She said, in as gentle a +tone as she could command, Pray put up your money, sir; and then went +away to her seat by the fire, hoping this would help to convince him +that it was useless to say more. Presently he rallied and said eagerly + +Look here, then. Call the young chap. Call Fred Vincy. + +Marys heart began to beat more quickly. Various ideas rushed through +her mind as to what the burning of a second will might imply. She had +to make a difficult decision in a hurry. + +I will call him, if you will let me call Mr. Jonah and others with +him. + +Nobody else, I say. The young chap. I shall do as I like. + +Wait till broad daylight, sir, when every one is stirring. Or let me +call Simmons now, to go and fetch the lawyer? He can be here in less +than two hours. + +Lawyer? What do I want with the lawyer? Nobody shall knowI say, +nobody shall know. I shall do as I like. + +Let me call some one else, sir, said Mary, persuasively. She did not +like her positionalone with the old man, who seemed to show a strange +flaring of nervous energy which enabled him to speak again and again +without falling into his usual cough; yet she desired not to push +unnecessarily the contradiction which agitated him. Let me, pray, call +some one else. + +You let me alone, I say. Look here, missy. Take the money. Youll +never have the chance again. Its pretty nigh two hundredtheres more +in the box, and nobody knows how much there was. Take it and do as I +tell you. + +Mary, standing by the fire, saw its red light falling on the old man, +propped up on his pillows and bed-rest, with his bony hand holding out +the key, and the money lying on the quilt before him. She never forgot +that vision of a man wanting to do as he liked at the last. But the way +in which he had put the offer of the money urged her to speak with +harder resolution than ever. + +It is of no use, sir. I will not do it. Put up your money. I will not +touch your money. I will do anything else I can to comfort you; but I +will not touch your keys or your money. + +Anything elseanything else! said old Featherstone, with hoarse rage, +which, as if in a nightmare, tried to be loud, and yet was only just +audible. I want nothing else. You come hereyou come here. + +Mary approached him cautiously, knowing him too well. She saw him +dropping his keys and trying to grasp his stick, while he looked at her +like an aged hyena, the muscles of his face getting distorted with the +effort of his hand. She paused at a safe distance. + +Let me give you some cordial, she said, quietly, and try to compose +yourself. You will perhaps go to sleep. And to-morrow by daylight you +can do as you like. + +He lifted the stick, in spite of her being beyond his reach, and threw +it with a hard effort which was but impotence. It fell, slipping over +the foot of the bed. Mary let it lie, and retreated to her chair by the +fire. By-and-by she would go to him with the cordial. Fatigue would +make him passive. It was getting towards the chillest moment of the +morning, the fire had got low, and she could see through the chink +between the moreen window-curtains the light whitened by the blind. +Having put some wood on the fire and thrown a shawl over her, she sat +down, hoping that Mr. Featherstone might now fall asleep. If she went +near him the irritation might be kept up. He had said nothing after +throwing the stick, but she had seen him taking his keys again and +laying his right hand on the money. He did not put it up, however, and +she thought that he was dropping off to sleep. + +But Mary herself began to be more agitated by the remembrance of what +she had gone through, than she had been by the realityquestioning +those acts of hers which had come imperatively and excluded all +question in the critical moment. + +Presently the dry wood sent out a flame which illuminated every +crevice, and Mary saw that the old man was lying quietly with his head +turned a little on one side. She went towards him with inaudible steps, +and thought that his face looked strangely motionless; but the next +moment the movement of the flame communicating itself to all objects +made her uncertain. The violent beating of her heart rendered her +perceptions so doubtful that even when she touched him and listened for +his breathing, she could not trust her conclusions. She went to the +window and gently propped aside the curtain and blind, so that the +still light of the sky fell on the bed. + +The next moment she ran to the bell and rang it energetically. In a +very little while there was no longer any doubt that Peter Featherstone +was dead, with his right hand clasping the keys, and his left hand +lying on the heap of notes and gold. + + + + +BOOK IV. +THREE LOVE PROBLEMS. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +1_st Gent_. Such men as this are feathers, chips, and straws, + Carry no weight, no force. + +2_d Gent_. But levity + Is causal too, and makes the sum of weight. + For power finds its place in lack of power; + Advance is cession, and the driven ship + May run aground because the helmsmans thought + Lacked force to balance opposites. + + +It was on a morning of May that Peter Featherstone was buried. In the +prosaic neighborhood of Middlemarch, May was not always warm and sunny, +and on this particular morning a chill wind was blowing the blossoms +from the surrounding gardens on to the green mounds of Lowick +churchyard. Swiftly moving clouds only now and then allowed a gleam to +light up any object, whether ugly or beautiful, that happened to stand +within its golden shower. In the churchyard the objects were remarkably +various, for there was a little country crowd waiting to see the +funeral. The news had spread that it was to be a big burying; the old +gentleman had left written directions about everything and meant to +have a funeral beyond his betters. This was true; for old +Featherstone had not been a Harpagon whose passions had all been +devoured by the ever-lean and ever-hungry passion of saving, and who +would drive a bargain with his undertaker beforehand. He loved money, +but he also loved to spend it in gratifying his peculiar tastes, and +perhaps he loved it best of all as a means of making others feel his +power more or less uncomfortably. If any one will here contend that +there must have been traits of goodness in old Featherstone, I will not +presume to deny this; but I must observe that goodness is of a modest +nature, easily discouraged, and when much privacy, elbowed in early +life by unabashed vices, is apt to retire into extreme privacy, so that +it is more easily believed in by those who construct a selfish old +gentleman theoretically, than by those who form the narrower judgments +based on his personal acquaintance. In any case, he had been bent on +having a handsome funeral, and on having persons bid to it who would +rather have stayed at home. He had even desired that female relatives +should follow him to the grave, and poor sister Martha had taken a +difficult journey for this purpose from the Chalky Flats. She and Jane +would have been altogether cheered (in a tearful manner) by this sign +that a brother who disliked seeing them while he was living had been +prospectively fond of their presence when he should have become a +testator, if the sign had not been made equivocal by being extended to +Mrs. Vincy, whose expense in handsome crape seemed to imply the most +presumptuous hopes, aggravated by a bloom of complexion which told +pretty plainly that she was not a blood-relation, but of that generally +objectionable class called wifes kin. + +We are all of us imaginative in some form or other, for images are the +brood of desire; and poor old Featherstone, who laughed much at the way +in which others cajoled themselves, did not escape the fellowship of +illusion. In writing the programme for his burial he certainly did not +make clear to himself that his pleasure in the little drama of which it +formed a part was confined to anticipation. In chuckling over the +vexations he could inflict by the rigid clutch of his dead hand, he +inevitably mingled his consciousness with that livid stagnant presence, +and so far as he was preoccupied with a future life, it was with one of +gratification inside his coffin. Thus old Featherstone was imaginative, +after his fashion. + +However, the three mourning-coaches were filled according to the +written orders of the deceased. There were pall-bearers on horseback, +with the richest scarfs and hatbands, and even the under-bearers had +trappings of woe which were of a good well-priced quality. The black +procession, when dismounted, looked the larger for the smallness of the +churchyard; the heavy human faces and the black draperies shivering in +the wind seemed to tell of a world strangely incongruous with the +lightly dropping blossoms and the gleams of sunshine on the daisies. +The clergyman who met the procession was Mr. Cadwalladeralso according +to the request of Peter Featherstone, prompted as usual by peculiar +reasons. Having a contempt for curates, whom he always called +understrappers, he was resolved to be buried by a beneficed clergyman. +Mr. Casaubon was out of the question, not merely because he declined +duty of this sort, but because Featherstone had an especial dislike to +him as the rector of his own parish, who had a lien on the land in the +shape of tithe, also as the deliverer of morning sermons, which the old +man, being in his pew and not at all sleepy, had been obliged to sit +through with an inward snarl. He had an objection to a parson stuck up +above his head preaching to him. But his relations with Mr. Cadwallader +had been of a different kind: the trout-stream which ran through Mr. +Casaubons land took its course through Featherstones also, so that +Mr. Cadwallader was a parson who had had to ask a favor instead of +preaching. Moreover, he was one of the high gentry living four miles +away from Lowick, and was thus exalted to an equal sky with the sheriff +of the county and other dignities vaguely regarded as necessary to the +system of things. There would be a satisfaction in being buried by Mr. +Cadwallader, whose very name offered a fine opportunity for pronouncing +wrongly if you liked. + +This distinction conferred on the Rector of Tipton and Freshitt was the +reason why Mrs. Cadwallader made one of the group that watched old +Featherstones funeral from an upper window of the manor. She was not +fond of visiting that house, but she liked, as she said, to see +collections of strange animals such as there would be at this funeral; +and she had persuaded Sir James and the young Lady Chettam to drive the +Rector and herself to Lowick in order that the visit might be +altogether pleasant. + +I will go anywhere with you, Mrs. Cadwallader, Celia had said; but I +dont like funerals. + +Oh, my dear, when you have a clergyman in your family you must +accommodate your tastes: I did that very early. When I married Humphrey +I made up my mind to like sermons, and I set out by liking the end very +much. That soon spread to the middle and the beginning, because I +couldnt have the end without them. + +No, to be sure not, said the Dowager Lady Chettam, with stately +emphasis. + +The upper window from which the funeral could be well seen was in the +room occupied by Mr. Casaubon when he had been forbidden to work; but +he had resumed nearly his habitual style of life now in spite of +warnings and prescriptions, and after politely welcoming Mrs. +Cadwallader had slipped again into the library to chew a cud of erudite +mistake about Cush and Mizraim. + +But for her visitors Dorothea too might have been shut up in the +library, and would not have witnessed this scene of old Featherstones +funeral, which, aloof as it seemed to be from the tenor of her life, +always afterwards came back to her at the touch of certain sensitive +points in memory, just as the vision of St. Peters at Rome was inwoven +with moods of despondency. Scenes which make vital changes in our +neighbors lot are but the background of our own, yet, like a +particular aspect of the fields and trees, they become associated for +us with the epochs of our own history, and make a part of that unity +which lies in the selection of our keenest consciousness. + +The dream-like association of something alien and ill-understood with +the deepest secrets of her experience seemed to mirror that sense of +loneliness which was due to the very ardor of Dorotheas nature. The +country gentry of old time lived in a rarefied social air: dotted apart +on their stations up the mountain they looked down with imperfect +discrimination on the belts of thicker life below. And Dorothea was not +at ease in the perspective and chilliness of that height. + +I shall not look any more, said Celia, after the train had entered +the church, placing herself a little behind her husbands elbow so that +she could slyly touch his coat with her cheek. I dare say Dodo likes +it: she is fond of melancholy things and ugly people. + +I am fond of knowing something about the people I live among, said +Dorothea, who had been watching everything with the interest of a monk +on his holiday tour. It seems to me we know nothing of our neighbors, +unless they are cottagers. One is constantly wondering what sort of +lives other people lead, and how they take things. I am quite obliged +to Mrs. Cadwallader for coming and calling me out of the library. + +Quite right to feel obliged to me, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Your rich +Lowick farmers are as curious as any buffaloes or bisons, and I dare +say you dont half see them at church. They are quite different from +your uncles tenants or Sir Jamessmonstersfarmers without +landlordsone cant tell how to class them. + +Most of these followers are not Lowick people, said Sir James; I +suppose they are legatees from a distance, or from Middlemarch. +Lovegood tells me the old fellow has left a good deal of money as well +as land. + +Think of that now! when so many younger sons cant dine at their own +expense, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Ah, turning round at the sound of +the opening door, here is Mr. Brooke. I felt that we were incomplete +before, and here is the explanation. You are come to see this odd +funeral, of course? + +No, I came to look after Casaubonto see how he goes on, you know. And +to bring a little newsa little news, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, +nodding at Dorothea as she came towards him. I looked into the +library, and I saw Casaubon over his books. I told him it wouldnt do: +I said, This will never do, you know: think of your wife, Casaubon. +And he promised me to come up. I didnt tell him my news: I said, he +must come up. + +Ah, now they are coming out of church, Mrs. Cadwallader exclaimed. +Dear me, what a wonderfully mixed set! Mr. Lydgate as doctor, I +suppose. But that is really a good looking woman, and the fair young +man must be her son. Who are they, Sir James, do you know? + +I see Vincy, the Mayor of Middlemarch; they are probably his wife and +son, said Sir James, looking interrogatively at Mr. Brooke, who nodded +and said + +Yes, a very decent familya very good fellow is Vincy; a credit to the +manufacturing interest. You have seen him at my house, you know. + +Ah, yes: one of your secret committee, said Mrs. Cadwallader, +provokingly. + +A coursing fellow, though, said Sir James, with a fox-hunters +disgust. + +And one of those who suck the life out of the wretched handloom +weavers in Tipton and Freshitt. That is how his family look so fair and +sleek, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Those dark, purple-faced people are an +excellent foil. Dear me, they are like a set of jugs! Do look at +Humphrey: one might fancy him an ugly archangel towering above them in +his white surplice. + +Its a solemn thing, though, a funeral, said Mr. Brooke, if you take +it in that light, you know. + +But I am not taking it in that light. I cant wear my solemnity too +often, else it will go to rags. It was time the old man died, and none +of these people are sorry. + +How piteous! said Dorothea. This funeral seems to me the most dismal +thing I ever saw. It is a blot on the morning. I cannot bear to think +that any one should die and leave no love behind. + +She was going to say more, but she saw her husband enter and seat +himself a little in the background. The difference his presence made to +her was not always a happy one: she felt that he often inwardly +objected to her speech. + +Positively, exclaimed Mrs. Cadwallader, there is a new face come out +from behind that broad man queerer than any of them: a little round +head with bulging eyesa sort of frog-facedo look. He must be of +another blood, I think. + +Let me see! said Celia, with awakened curiosity, standing behind Mrs. +Cadwallader and leaning forward over her head. Oh, what an odd face! +Then with a quick change to another sort of surprised expression, she +added, Why, Dodo, you never told me that Mr. Ladislaw was come again! + +Dorothea felt a shock of alarm: every one noticed her sudden paleness +as she looked up immediately at her uncle, while Mr. Casaubon looked at +her. + +He came with me, you know; he is my guestputs up with me at the +Grange, said Mr. Brooke, in his easiest tone, nodding at Dorothea, as +if the announcement were just what she might have expected. And we +have brought the picture at the top of the carriage. I knew you would +be pleased with the surprise, Casaubon. There you are to the very +lifeas Aquinas, you know. Quite the right sort of thing. And you will +hear young Ladislaw talk about it. He talks uncommonly wellpoints out +this, that, and the otherknows art and everything of that +kindcompanionable, you knowis up with you in any trackwhat Ive been +wanting a long while. + +Mr. Casaubon bowed with cold politeness, mastering his irritation, but +only so far as to be silent. He remembered Wills letter quite as well +as Dorothea did; he had noticed that it was not among the letters which +had been reserved for him on his recovery, and secretly concluding that +Dorothea had sent word to Will not to come to Lowick, he had shrunk +with proud sensitiveness from ever recurring to the subject. He now +inferred that she had asked her uncle to invite Will to the Grange; and +she felt it impossible at that moment to enter into any explanation. + +Mrs. Cadwalladers eyes, diverted from the churchyard, saw a good deal +of dumb show which was not so intelligible to her as she could have +desired, and could not repress the question, Who is Mr. Ladislaw? + +A young relative of Mr. Casaubons, said Sir James, promptly. His +good-nature often made him quick and clear-seeing in personal matters, +and he had divined from Dorotheas glance at her husband that there was +some alarm in her mind. + +A very nice young fellowCasaubon has done everything for him, +explained Mr. Brooke. He repays your expense in him, Casaubon, he +went on, nodding encouragingly. I hope he will stay with me a long +while and we shall make something of my documents. I have plenty of +ideas and facts, you know, and I can see he is just the man to put them +into shaperemembers what the right quotations are, _omne tulit +punctum_, and that sort of thinggives subjects a kind of turn. I +invited him some time ago when you were ill, Casaubon; Dorothea said +you couldnt have anybody in the house, you know, and she asked me to +write. + +Poor Dorothea felt that every word of her uncles was about as pleasant +as a grain of sand in the eye to Mr. Casaubon. It would be altogether +unfitting now to explain that she had not wished her uncle to invite +Will Ladislaw. She could not in the least make clear to herself the +reasons for her husbands dislike to his presencea dislike painfully +impressed on her by the scene in the library; but she felt the +unbecomingness of saying anything that might convey a notion of it to +others. Mr. Casaubon, indeed, had not thoroughly represented those +mixed reasons to himself; irritated feeling with him, as with all of +us, seeking rather for justification than for self-knowledge. But he +wished to repress outward signs, and only Dorothea could discern the +changes in her husbands face before he observed with more of dignified +bending and sing-song than usual + +You are exceedingly hospitable, my dear sir; and I owe you +acknowledgments for exercising your hospitality towards a relative of +mine. + +The funeral was ended now, and the churchyard was being cleared. + +Now you can see him, Mrs. Cadwallader, said Celia. He is just like a +miniature of Mr. Casaubons aunt that hangs in Dorotheas boudoirquite +nice-looking. + +A very pretty sprig, said Mrs. Cadwallader, dryly. What is your +nephew to be, Mr. Casaubon? + +Pardon me, he is not my nephew. He is my cousin. + +Well, you know, interposed Mr. Brooke, he is trying his wings. He is +just the sort of young fellow to rise. I should be glad to give him an +opportunity. He would make a good secretary, now, like Hobbes, Milton, +Swiftthat sort of man. + +I understand, said Mrs. Cadwallader. One who can write speeches. + +Ill fetch him in now, eh, Casaubon? said Mr. Brooke. He wouldnt +come in till I had announced him, you know. And well go down and look +at the picture. There you are to the life: a deep subtle sort of +thinker with his fore-finger on the page, while Saint Bonaventure or +somebody else, rather fat and florid, is looking up at the Trinity. +Everything is symbolical, you knowthe higher style of art: I like that +up to a certain point, but not too farits rather straining to keep up +with, you know. But you are at home in that, Casaubon. And your +painters flesh is goodsolidity, transparency, everything of that +sort. I went into that a great deal at one time. However, Ill go and +fetch Ladislaw. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +Non, je ne comprends pas de plus charmant plaisir +Que de voir dhritiers une troupe afflige +Le maintien interdit, et la mine allonge, +Lire un long testament o pales, tonns +On leur laisse un bonsoir avec un pied de nez. +Pour voir au naturel leur tristesse profonde +Je reviendrais, je crois, exprs de lautre monde. +REGNARD: _Le Lgataire Universel_. + + +When the animals entered the Ark in pairs, one may imagine that allied +species made much private remark on each other, and were tempted to +think that so many forms feeding on the same store of fodder were +eminently superfluous, as tending to diminish the rations. (I fear the +part played by the vultures on that occasion would be too painful for +art to represent, those birds being disadvantageously naked about the +gullet, and apparently without rites and ceremonies.) + +The same sort of temptation befell the Christian Carnivora who formed +Peter Featherstones funeral procession; most of them having their +minds bent on a limited store which each would have liked to get the +most of. The long-recognized blood-relations and connections by +marriage made already a goodly number, which, multiplied by +possibilities, presented a fine range for jealous conjecture and +pathetic hopefulness. Jealousy of the Vincys had created a fellowship +in hostility among all persons of the Featherstone blood, so that in +the absence of any decided indication that one of themselves was to +have more than the rest, the dread lest that long-legged Fred Vincy +should have the land was necessarily dominant, though it left abundant +feeling and leisure for vaguer jealousies, such as were entertained +towards Mary Garth. Solomon found time to reflect that Jonah was +undeserving, and Jonah to abuse Solomon as greedy; Jane, the elder +sister, held that Marthas children ought not to expect so much as the +young Waules; and Martha, more lax on the subject of primogeniture, was +sorry to think that Jane was so having. These nearest of kin were +naturally impressed with the unreasonableness of expectations in +cousins and second cousins, and used their arithmetic in reckoning the +large sums that small legacies might mount to, if there were too many +of them. Two cousins were present to hear the will, and a second cousin +besides Mr. Trumbull. This second cousin was a Middlemarch mercer of +polite manners and superfluous aspirates. The two cousins were elderly +men from Brassing, one of them conscious of claims on the score of +inconvenient expense sustained by him in presents of oysters and other +eatables to his rich cousin Peter; the other entirely saturnine, +leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims based on +no narrow performance but on merit generally: both blameless citizens +of Brassing, who wished that Jonah Featherstone did not live there. The +wit of a family is usually best received among strangers. + +Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred_that_ you may +depend,I shouldnt wonder if my brother promised him, said Solomon, +musing aloud with his sisters, the evening before the funeral. + +Dear, dear! said poor sister Martha, whose imagination of hundreds +had been habitually narrowed to the amount of her unpaid rent. + +But in the morning all the ordinary currents of conjecture were +disturbed by the presence of a strange mourner who had plashed among +them as if from the moon. This was the stranger described by Mrs. +Cadwallader as frog-faced: a man perhaps about two or three and thirty, +whose prominent eyes, thin-lipped, downward-curved mouth, and hair +sleekly brushed away from a forehead that sank suddenly above the ridge +of the eyebrows, certainly gave his face a batrachian unchangeableness +of expression. Here, clearly, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden +as a mourner? Here were new possibilities, raising a new uncertainty, +which almost checked remark in the mourning-coaches. We are all +humiliated by the sudden discovery of a fact which has existed very +comfortably and perhaps been staring at us in private while we have +been making up our world entirely without it. No one had seen this +questionable stranger before except Mary Garth, and she knew nothing +more of him than that he had twice been to Stone Court when Mr. +Featherstone was down-stairs, and had sat alone with him for several +hours. She had found an opportunity of mentioning this to her father, +and perhaps Calebs were the only eyes, except the lawyers, which +examined the stranger with more of inquiry than of disgust or +suspicion. Caleb Garth, having little expectation and less cupidity, +was interested in the verification of his own guesses, and the calmness +with which he half smilingly rubbed his chin and shot intelligent +glances much as if he were valuing a tree, made a fine contrast with +the alarm or scorn visible in other faces when the unknown mourner, +whose name was understood to be Rigg, entered the wainscoted parlor and +took his seat near the door to make part of the audience when the will +should be read. Just then Mr. Solomon and Mr. Jonah were gone up-stairs +with the lawyer to search for the will; and Mrs. Waule, seeing two +vacant seats between herself and Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, had the spirit +to move next to that great authority, who was handling his watch-seals +and trimming his outlines with a determination not to show anything so +compromising to a man of ability as wonder or surprise. + +I suppose you know everything about what my poor brothers done, Mr. +Trumbull, said Mrs. Waule, in the lowest of her woolly tones, while +she turned her crape-shadowed bonnet towards Mr. Trumbulls ear. + +My good lady, whatever was told me was told in confidence, said the +auctioneer, putting his hand up to screen that secret. + +Them whove made sure of their good-luck may be disappointed yet, +Mrs. Waule continued, finding some relief in this communication. + +Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Trumbull, still in confidence. + +Ah! said Mrs. Waule, looking across at the Vincys, and then moving +back to the side of her sister Martha. + +Its wonderful how close poor Peter was, she said, in the same +undertones. We none of us know what he might have had on his mind. I +only hope and trust he wasnt a worse liver than we think of, Martha. + +Poor Mrs. Cranch was bulky, and, breathing asthmatically, had the +additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving +them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to +sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ. + +I never _was_ covetous, Jane, she replied; but I have six children +and have buried three, and I didnt marry into money. The eldest, that +sits there, is but nineteenso I leave you to guess. And stock always +short, and land most awkward. But if ever Ive begged and prayed; its +been to God above; though where theres one brother a bachelor and the +other childless after twice marryinganybody might think! + +Meanwhile, Mr. Vincy had glanced at the passive face of Mr. Rigg, and +had taken out his snuff-box and tapped it, but had put it again +unopened as an indulgence which, however clarifying to the judgment, +was unsuited to the occasion. I shouldnt wonder if Featherstone had +better feelings than any of us gave him credit for, he observed, in +the ear of his wife. This funeral shows a thought about everybody: it +looks well when a man wants to be followed by his friends, and if they +are humble, not to be ashamed of them. I should be all the better +pleased if hed left lots of small legacies. They may be uncommonly +useful to fellows in a small way. + +Everything is as handsome as could be, crape and silk and everything, +said Mrs. Vincy, contentedly. + +But I am sorry to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing +a laugh, which would have been more unsuitable than his fathers +snuff-box. Fred had overheard Mr. Jonah suggesting something about a +love-child, and with this thought in his mind, the strangers face, +which happened to be opposite him, affected him too ludicrously. Mary +Garth, discerning his distress in the twitchings of his mouth, and his +recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to +change seats with her, so that he got into a shadowy corner. Fred was +feeling as good-naturedly as possible towards everybody, including +Rigg; and having some relenting towards all these people who were less +lucky than he was aware of being himself, he would not for the world +have behaved amiss; still, it was particularly easy to laugh. + +But the entrance of the lawyer and the two brothers drew every ones +attention. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, and he had come to Stone Court +this morning believing that he knew thoroughly well who would be +pleased and who disappointed before the day was over. The will he +expected to read was the last of three which he had drawn up for Mr. +Featherstone. Mr. Standish was not a man who varied his manners: he +behaved with the same deep-voiced, off-hand civility to everybody, as +if he saw no difference in them, and talked chiefly of the hay-crop, +which would be very fine, by God! of the last bulletins concerning +the King, and of the Duke of Clarence, who was a sailor every inch of +him, and just the man to rule over an island like Britain. + +Old Featherstone had often reflected as he sat looking at the fire that +Standish would be surprised some day: it is true that if he had done as +he liked at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by another lawyer, he +would not have secured that minor end; still he had had his pleasure in +ruminating on it. And certainly Mr. Standish was surprised, but not at +all sorry; on the contrary, he rather enjoyed the zest of a little +curiosity in his own mind, which the discovery of a second will added +to the prospective amazement on the part of the Featherstone family. + +As to the sentiments of Solomon and Jonah, they were held in utter +suspense: it seemed to them that the old will would have a certain +validity, and that there might be such an interlacement of poor Peters +former and latter intentions as to create endless lawing before +anybody came by their ownan inconvenience which would have at least +the advantage of going all round. Hence the brothers showed a +thoroughly neutral gravity as they re-entered with Mr. Standish; but +Solomon took out his white handkerchief again with a sense that in any +case there would be affecting passages, and crying at funerals, however +dry, was customarily served up in lawn. + +Perhaps the person who felt the most throbbing excitement at this +moment was Mary Garth, in the consciousness that it was she who had +virtually determined the production of this second will, which might +have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present. No soul +except herself knew what had passed on that final night. + +The will I hold in my hand, said Mr. Standish, who, seated at the +table in the middle of the room, took his time about everything, +including the coughs with which he showed a disposition to clear his +voice, was drawn up by myself and executed by our deceased friend on +the 9th of August, 1825. But I find that there is a subsequent +instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, +hardly a year later than the previous one. And there is farther, I +seeMr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his +spectaclesa codicil to this latter will, bearing date March 1, 1828. + +Dear, dear! said sister Martha, not meaning to be audible, but driven +to some articulation under this pressure of dates. + +I shall begin by reading the earlier will, continued Mr. Standish, +since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was +the intention of the deceased. + +The preamble was felt to be rather long, and several besides Solomon +shook their heads pathetically, looking on the ground: all eyes avoided +meeting other eyes, and were chiefly fixed either on the spots in the +table-cloth or on Mr. Standishs bald head; excepting Mary Garths. +When all the rest were trying to look nowhere in particular, it was +safe for her to look at them. And at the sound of the first give and +bequeath she could see all complexions changing subtly, as if some +faint vibration were passing through them, save that of Mr. Rigg. He +sat in unaltered calm, and, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more +important problems, and with the complication of listening to bequests +which might or might not be revoked, had ceased to think of him. Fred +blushed, and Mr. Vincy found it impossible to do without his snuff-box +in his hand, though he kept it closed. + +The small bequests came first, and even the recollection that there was +another will and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, could +not quell the rising disgust and indignation. One likes to be done well +by in every tense, past, present, and future. And here was Peter +capable five years ago of leaving only two hundred apiece to his own +brothers and sisters, and only a hundred apiece to his own nephews and +nieces: the Garths were not mentioned, but Mrs. Vincy and Rosamond were +each to have a hundred. Mr. Trumbull was to have the gold-headed cane +and fifty pounds; the other second cousins and the cousins present were +each to have the like handsome sum, which, as the saturnine cousin +observed, was a sort of legacy that left a man nowhere; and there was +much more of such offensive dribbling in favor of persons not +presentproblematical, and, it was to be feared, low connections. +Altogether, reckoning hastily, here were about three thousand disposed +of. Where then had Peter meant the rest of the money to goand where +the land? and what was revoked and what not revokedand was the +revocation for better or for worse? All emotion must be conditional, +and might turn out to be the wrong thing. The men were strong enough to +bear up and keep quiet under this confused suspense; some letting their +lower lip fall, others pursing it up, according to the habit of their +muscles. But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and +began to cry; poor Mrs. Cranch being half moved with the consolation of +getting any hundreds at all without working for them, and half aware +that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs. Waules mind was entirely +flooded with the sense of being an own sister and getting little, while +somebody else was to have much. The general expectation now was that +the much would fall to Fred Vincy, but the Vincys themselves were +surprised when ten thousand pounds in specified investments were +declared to be bequeathed to him:was the land coming too? Fred bit his +lips: it was difficult to help smiling, and Mrs. Vincy felt herself the +happiest of womenpossible revocation shrinking out of sight in this +dazzling vision. + +There was still a residue of personal property as well as the land, but +the whole was left to one person, and that person wasO possibilities! +O expectations founded on the favor of close old gentlemen! O endless +vocatives that would still leave expression slipping helpless from the +measurement of mortal folly!that residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, +who was also sole executor, and who was to take thenceforth the name of +Featherstone. + +There was a rustling which seemed like a shudder running round the +room. Every one stared afresh at Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced +no surprise. + +A most singular testamentary disposition! exclaimed Mr. Trumbull, +preferring for once that he should be considered ignorant in the past. +But there is a second willthere is a further document. We have not +yet heard the final wishes of the deceased. + +Mary Garth was feeling that what they had yet to hear were not the +final wishes. The second will revoked everything except the legacies to +the low persons before mentioned (some alterations in these being the +occasion of the codicil), and the bequest of all the land lying in +Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua +Rigg. The residue of the property was to be devoted to the erection and +endowment of almshouses for old men, to be called Featherstones +Alms-Houses, and to be built on a piece of land near Middlemarch +already bought for the purpose by the testator, he wishingso the +document declaredto please God Almighty. Nobody present had a +farthing; but Mr. Trumbull had the gold-headed cane. It took some time +for the company to recover the power of expression. Mary dared not look +at Fred. + +Mr. Vincy was the first to speakafter using his snuff-box +energeticallyand he spoke with loud indignation. The most +unaccountable will I ever heard! I should say he was not in his right +mind when he made it. I should say this last will was void, added Mr. +Vincy, feeling that this expression put the thing in the true light. +Eh Standish? + +Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think, said Mr. +Standish. Everything is quite regular. Here is a letter from Clemmens +of Brassing tied with the will. He drew it up. A very respectable +solicitor. + +I never noticed any alienation of mindany aberration of intellect in +the late Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, but I call this +will eccentric. I was always willingly of service to the old soul; and +he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show +itself in his will. The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an +acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations. + +Theres nothing very surprising in the matter that I can see, said +Caleb Garth. Anybody might have had more reason for wondering if the +will had been what you might expect from an open-minded straightforward +man. For my part, I wish there was no such thing as a will. + +Thats a strange sentiment to come from a Christian man, by God! said +the lawyer. I should like to know how you will back that up, Garth! + +Oh, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with +nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. It always seemed to him +that words were the hardest part of business. + +But here Mr. Jonah Featherstone made himself heard. Well, he always +was a fine hypocrite, was my brother Peter. But this will cuts out +everything. If Id known, a wagon and six horses shouldnt have drawn +me from Brassing. Ill put a white hat and drab coat on to-morrow. + +Dear, dear, wept Mrs. Cranch, and weve been at the expense of +travelling, and that poor lad sitting idle here so long! Its the first +time I ever heard my brother Peter was so wishful to please God +Almighty; but if I was to be struck helpless I must say its hardI can +think no other. + +Itll do him no good where hes gone, thats my belief, said Solomon, +with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could +not help being sly. Peter was a bad liver, and almshouses wont cover +it, when hes had the impudence to show it at the last. + +And all the while had got his own lawful familybrothers and sisters +and nephews and niecesand has sat in church with em whenever he +thought well to come, said Mrs. Waule. And might have left his +property so respectable, to them thats never been used to extravagance +or unsteadiness in no manner of wayand not so poor but what they could +have saved every penny and made more of it. And methe trouble Ive +been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterlyand him with +things on his mind all the while that might make anybodys flesh creep. +But if the Almightys allowed it, he means to punish him for it. +Brother Solomon, I shall be going, if youll drive me. + +Ive no desire to put my foot on the premises again, said Solomon. +Ive got land of my own and property of my own to will away. + +Its a poor tale how luck goes in the world, said Jonah. It never +answers to have a bit of spirit in you. Youd better be a dog in the +manger. But those above ground might learn a lesson. One fools will is +enough in a family. + +Theres more ways than one of being a fool, said Solomon. I shant +leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I shant leave it to +foundlings from Africay. I like Featherstones that were brewed such, +and not turned Featherstones with sticking the name on em. + +Solomon addressed these remarks in a loud aside to Mrs. Waule as he +rose to accompany her. Brother Jonah felt himself capable of much more +stinging wit than this, but he reflected that there was no use in +offending the new proprietor of Stone Court, until you were certain +that he was quite without intentions of hospitality towards witty men +whose name he was about to bear. + +Mr. Joshua Rigg, in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any +innuendoes, but showed a notable change of manner, walking coolly up to +Mr. Standish and putting business questions with much coolness. He had +a high chirping voice and a vile accent. Fred, whom he no longer moved +to laughter, thought him the lowest monster he had ever seen. But Fred +was feeling rather sick. The Middlemarch mercer waited for an +opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no knowing +how many pairs of legs the new proprietor might require hose for, and +profits were more to be relied on than legacies. Also, the mercer, as a +second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity. + +Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained proudly silent, though +too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of moving, till +he observed that his wife had gone to Freds side and was crying +silently while she held her darlings hand. He rose immediately, and +turning his back on the company while he said to her in an +undertone,Dont give way, Lucy; dont make a fool of yourself, my +dear, before these people, he added in his usual loud voiceGo and +order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste. + +Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her +father. She met Fred in the hall, and now for the first time had the +courage to look at him. He had that withered sort of paleness which +will sometimes come on young faces, and his hand was very cold when she +shook it. Mary too was agitated; she was conscious that fatally, +without will of her own, she had perhaps made a great difference to +Freds lot. + +Good-by, she said, with affectionate sadness. Be brave, Fred. I do +believe you are better without the money. What was the good of it to +Mr. Featherstone? + +Thats all very fine, said Fred, pettishly. What is a fellow to do? +I must go into the Church now. (He knew that this would vex Mary: very +well; then she must tell him what else he could do.) And I thought I +should be able to pay your father at once and make everything right. +And you have not even a hundred pounds left you. What shall you do now, +Mary? + +Take another situation, of course, as soon as I can get one. My father +has enough to do to keep the rest, without me. Good-by. + +In a very short time Stone Court was cleared of well-brewed +Featherstones and other long-accustomed visitors. Another stranger had +been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in the +case of Mr. Rigg Featherstone there was more discontent with immediate +visible consequences than speculation as to the effect which his +presence might have in the future. No soul was prophetic enough to have +any foreboding as to what might appear on the trial of Joshua Rigg. + +And here I am naturally led to reflect on the means of elevating a low +subject. Historical parallels are remarkably efficient in this way. The +chief objection to them is, that the diligent narrator may lack space, +or (what is often the same thing) may not be able to think of them with +any degree of particularity, though he may have a philosophical +confidence that if known they would be illustrative. It seems an easier +and shorter way to dignity, to observe thatsince there never was a +true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a +monkey for a margrave, and vice versawhatever has been or is to be +narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a +parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought +into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more +than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company +with persons of some style. Thus while I tell the truth about loobies, +my readers imagination need not be entirely excluded from an +occupation with lords; and the petty sums which any bankrupt of high +standing would be sorry to retire upon, may be lifted to the level of +high commercial transactions by the inexpensive addition of +proportional ciphers. + +As to any provincial history in which the agents are all of high moral +rank, that must be of a date long posterior to the first Reform Bill, +and Peter Featherstone, you perceive, was dead and buried some months +before Lord Grey came into office. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +T is strange to see the humors of these men, +These great aspiring spirits, that should be wise: +. . . . . . . . +For being the nature of great spirits to love +To be where they may be most eminent; +They, rating of themselves so farre above +Us in conceit, with whom they do frequent, +Imagine how we wonder and esteeme +All that they do or say; which makes them strive +To make our admiration more extreme, +Which they suppose they cannot, less they give +Notice of their extreme and highest thoughts. +DANIEL: _Tragedy of Philotas_. + + +Mr. Vincy went home from the reading of the will with his point of view +considerably changed in relation to many subjects. He was an +open-minded man, but given to indirect modes of expressing himself: +when he was disappointed in a market for his silk braids, he swore at +the groom; when his brother-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, he made +cutting remarks on Methodism; and it was now apparent that he regarded +Freds idleness with a sudden increase of severity, by his throwing an +embroidered cap out of the smoking-room on to the hall-floor. + +Well, sir, he observed, when that young gentleman was moving off to +bed, I hope youve made up your mind now to go up next term and pass +your examination. Ive taken my resolution, so I advise you to lose no +time in taking yours. + +Fred made no answer: he was too utterly depressed. Twenty-four hours +ago he had thought that instead of needing to know what he should do, +he should by this time know that he needed to do nothing: that he +should hunt in pink, have a first-rate hunter, ride to cover on a fine +hack, and be generally respected for doing so; moreover, that he should +be able at once to pay Mr. Garth, and that Mary could no longer have +any reason for not marrying him. And all this was to have come without +study or other inconvenience, purely by the favor of providence in the +shape of an old gentlemans caprice. But now, at the end of the +twenty-four hours, all those firm expectations were upset. It was +rather hard lines that while he was smarting under this +disappointment he should be treated as if he could have helped it. But +he went away silently and his mother pleaded for him. + +Dont be hard on the poor boy, Vincy. Hell turn out well yet, though +that wicked man has deceived him. I feel as sure as I sit here, Fred +will turn out wellelse why was he brought back from the brink of the +grave? And I call it a robbery: it was like giving him the land, to +promise it; and what is promising, if making everybody believe is not +promising? And you see he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and then +took it away again. + +Took it away again! said Mr. Vincy, pettishly. I tell you the lads +an unlucky lad, Lucy. And youve always spoiled him. + +Well, Vincy, he was my first, and you made a fine fuss with him when +he came. You were as proud as proud, said Mrs. Vincy, easily +recovering her cheerful smile. + +Who knows what babies will turn to? I was fool enough, I dare say, +said the husbandmore mildly, however. + +But who has handsomer, better children than ours? Fred is far beyond +other peoples sons: you may hear it in his speech, that he has kept +college company. And Rosamondwhere is there a girl like her? She might +stand beside any lady in the land, and only look the better for it. You +seeMr. Lydgate has kept the highest company and been everywhere, and +he fell in love with her at once. Not but what I could have wished +Rosamond had not engaged herself. She might have met somebody on a +visit who would have been a far better match; I mean at her +schoolfellow Miss Willoughbys. There are relations in that family +quite as high as Mr. Lydgates. + +Damn relations! said Mr. Vincy; Ive had enough of them. I dont +want a son-in-law who has got nothing but his relations to recommend +him. + +Why, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, you seemed as pleased as could be +about it. Its true, I wasnt at home; but Rosamond told me you hadnt +a word to say against the engagement. And she has begun to buy in the +best linen and cambric for her underclothing. + +Not by my will, said Mr. Vincy. I shall have enough to do this year, +with an idle scamp of a son, without paying for wedding-clothes. The +times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and I dont +believe Lydgate has got a farthing. I shant give my consent to their +marrying. Let em wait, as their elders have done before em. + +Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bear +to cross her. + +Yes, I could. The sooner the engagements off, the better. I dont +believe hell ever make an income, the way he goes on. He makes +enemies; thats all I hear of his making. + +But he stands very high with Mr. Bulstrode, my dear. The marriage +would please _him_, I should think. + +Please the deuce! said Mr. Vincy. Bulstrode wont pay for their +keep. And if Lydgate thinks Im going to give money for them to set up +housekeeping, hes mistaken, thats all. I expect I shall have to put +down my horses soon. Youd better tell Rosy what I say. + +This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincyto be rash in jovial +assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been rash, +to employ others in making the offensive retractation. However, Mrs. +Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time the next +morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said. Rosamond, examining +some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave a certain +turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience could teach +you that it meant perfect obstinacy. + +What do you say, my dear? said her mother, with affectionate +deference. + +Papa does not mean anything of the kind, said Rosamond, quite calmly. +He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved. And I +shall marry Mr. Lydgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his +consent. And I hope we shall have Mrs. Brettons house. + +Well, my dear, I shall leave you to manage your papa. You always do +manage everybody. But if we ever do go and get damask, Sadlers is the +placefar better than Hopkinss. Mrs. Brettons is very large, though: +I should love you to have such a house; but it will take a great deal +of furniturecarpeting and everything, besides plate and glass. And you +hear, your papa says he will give no money. Do you think Mr. Lydgate +expects it? + +You cannot imagine that I should ask him, mamma. Of course he +understands his own affairs. + +But he may have been looking for money, my dear, and we all thought of +your having a pretty legacy as well as Fred;and now everything is so +dreadfultheres no pleasure in thinking of anything, with that poor +boy disappointed as he is. + +That has nothing to do with my marriage, mamma. Fred must leave off +being idle. I am going up-stairs to take this work to Miss Morgan: she +does the open hemming very well. Mary Garth might do some work for me +now, I should think. Her sewing is exquisite; it is the nicest thing I +know about Mary. I should so like to have all my cambric frilling +double-hemmed. And it takes a long time. + +Mrs. Vincys belief that Rosamond could manage her papa was well +founded. Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Vincy, blustering +as he was, had as little of his own way as if he had been a prime +minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much for him, as it +is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the circumstance called +Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that mild persistence +which, as we know, enables a white soft living substance to make its +way in spite of opposing rock. Papa was not a rock: he had no other +fixity than that fixity of alternating impulses sometimes called habit, +and this was altogether unfavorable to his taking the only decisive +line of conduct in relation to his daughters engagementnamely, to +inquire thoroughly into Lydgates circumstances, declare his own +inability to furnish money, and forbid alike either a speedy marriage +or an engagement which must be too lengthy. That seems very simple and +easy in the statement; but a disagreeable resolve formed in the chill +hours of the morning had as many conditions against it as the early +frost, and rarely persisted under the warming influences of the day. +The indirect though emphatic expression of opinion to which Mr. Vincy +was prone suffered much restraint in this case: Lydgate was a proud man +towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and throwing his hat on +the floor was out of the question. Mr. Vincy was a little in awe of +him, a little vain that he wanted to marry Rosamond, a little +indisposed to raise a question of money in which his own position was +not advantageous, a little afraid of being worsted in dialogue with a +man better educated and more highly bred than himself, and a little +afraid of doing what his daughter would not like. The part Mr. Vincy +preferred playing was that of the generous host whom nobody criticises. +In the earlier half of the day there was business to hinder any formal +communication of an adverse resolve; in the later there was dinner, +wine, whist, and general satisfaction. And in the mean while the hours +were each leaving their little deposit and gradually forming the final +reason for inaction, namely, that action was too late. The accepted +lover spent most of his evenings in Lowick Gate, and a love-making not +at all dependent on money-advances from fathers-in-law, or prospective +income from a profession, went on flourishingly under Mr. Vincys own +eyes. Young love-makingthat gossamer web! Even the points it clings +tothe things whence its subtle interlacings are swungare scarcely +perceptible: momentary touches of fingertips, meetings of rays from +blue and dark orbs, unfinished phrases, lightest changes of cheek and +lip, faintest tremors. The web itself is made of spontaneous beliefs +and indefinable joys, yearnings of one life towards another, visions of +completeness, indefinite trust. And Lydgate fell to spinning that web +from his inward self with wonderful rapidity, in spite of experience +supposed to be finished off with the drama of Laurein spite too of +medicine and biology; for the inspection of macerated muscle or of eyes +presented in a dish (like Santa Lucias), and other incidents of +scientific inquiry, are observed to be less incompatible with poetic +love than a native dulness or a lively addiction to the lowest prose. +As for Rosamond, she was in the water-lilys expanding wonderment at +its own fuller life, and she too was spinning industriously at the +mutual web. All this went on in the corner of the drawing-room where +the piano stood, and subtle as it was, the light made it a sort of +rainbow visible to many observers besides Mr. Farebrother. The +certainty that Miss Vincy and Mr. Lydgate were engaged became general +in Middlemarch without the aid of formal announcement. + +Aunt Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but this time she +addressed herself to her brother, going to the warehouse expressly to +avoid Mrs. Vincys volatility. His replies were not satisfactory. + +Walter, you never mean to tell me that you have allowed all this to go +on without inquiry into Mr. Lydgates prospects? said Mrs. Bulstrode, +opening her eyes with wider gravity at her brother, who was in his +peevish warehouse humor. Think of this girl brought up in luxuryin +too worldly a way, I am sorry to saywhat will she do on a small +income? + +Oh, confound it, Harriet! What can I do when men come into the town +without any asking of mine? Did you shut your house up against Lydgate? +Bulstrode has pushed him forward more than anybody. I never made any +fuss about the young fellow. You should go and talk to your husband +about it, not me. + +Well, really, Walter, how can Mr. Bulstrode be to blame? I am sure he +did not wish for the engagement. + +Oh, if Bulstrode had not taken him by the hand, I should never have +invited him. + +But you called him in to attend on Fred, and I am sure that was a +mercy, said Mrs. Bulstrode, losing her clew in the intricacies of the +subject. + +I dont know about mercy, said Mr. Vincy, testily. I know I am +worried more than I like with my family. I was a good brother to you, +Harriet, before you married Bulstrode, and I must say he doesnt always +show that friendly spirit towards your family that might have been +expected of him. Mr. Vincy was very little like a Jesuit, but no +accomplished Jesuit could have turned a question more adroitly. Harriet +had to defend her husband instead of blaming her brother, and the +conversation ended at a point as far from the beginning as some recent +sparring between the brothers-in-law at a vestry meeting. + +Mrs. Bulstrode did not repeat her brothers complaints to her husband, +but in the evening she spoke to him of Lydgate and Rosamond. He did not +share her warm interest, however; and only spoke with resignation of +the risks attendant on the beginning of medical practice and the +desirability of prudence. + +I am sure we are bound to pray for that thoughtless girlbrought up as +she has been, said Mrs. Bulstrode, wishing to rouse her husbands +feelings. + +Truly, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, assentingly. Those who are not +of this world can do little else to arrest the errors of the +obstinately worldly. That is what we must accustom ourselves to +recognize with regard to your brothers family. I could have wished +that Mr. Lydgate had not entered into such a union; but my relations +with him are limited to that use of his gifts for Gods purposes which +is taught us by the divine government under each dispensation. + +Mrs. Bulstrode said no more, attributing some dissatisfaction which she +felt to her own want of spirituality. She believed that her husband was +one of those men whose memoirs should be written when they died. + +As to Lydgate himself, having been accepted, he was prepared to accept +all the consequences which he believed himself to foresee with perfect +clearness. Of course he must be married in a yearperhaps even in half +a year. This was not what he had intended; but other schemes would not +be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew. Marriage, of +course, must be prepared for in the usual way. A house must be taken +instead of the rooms he at present occupied; and Lydgate, having heard +Rosamond speak with admiration of old Mrs. Brettons house (situated in +Lowick Gate), took notice when it fell vacant after the old ladys +death, and immediately entered into treaty for it. + +He did this in an episodic way, very much as he gave orders to his +tailor for every requisite of perfect dress, without any notion of +being extravagant. On the contrary, he would have despised any +ostentation of expense; his profession had familiarized him with all +grades of poverty, and he cared much for those who suffered hardships. +He would have behaved perfectly at a table where the sauce was served +in a jug with the handle off, and he would have remembered nothing +about a grand dinner except that a man was there who talked well. But +it had never occurred to him that he should live in any other than what +he would have called an ordinary way, with green glasses for hock, and +excellent waiting at table. In warming himself at French social +theories he had brought away no smell of scorching. We may handle even +extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-giving, +and preference for armorial bearings in our own case, link us +indissolubly with the established order. And Lydgates tendency was not +towards extreme opinions: he would have liked no barefooted doctrines, +being particular about his boots: he was no radical in relation to +anything but medical reform and the prosecution of discovery. In the +rest of practical life he walked by hereditary habit; half from that +personal pride and unreflecting egoism which I have already called +commonness, and half from that naivete which belonged to preoccupation +with favorite ideas. + +Any inward debate Lydgate had as to the consequences of this engagement +which had stolen upon him, turned on the paucity of time rather than of +money. Certainly, being in love and being expected continually by some +one who always turned out to be prettier than memory could represent +her to be, did interfere with the diligent use of spare hours which +might serve some plodding fellow of a German to make the great, +imminent discovery. This was really an argument for not deferring the +marriage too long, as he implied to Mr. Farebrother, one day that the +Vicar came to his room with some pond-products which he wanted to +examine under a better microscope than his own, and, finding Lydgates +tableful of apparatus and specimens in confusion, said sarcastically + +Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and +now he brings back chaos. + +Yes, at some stages, said Lydgate, lifting his brows and smiling, +while he began to arrange his microscope. But a better order will +begin after. + +Soon? said the Vicar. + +I hope so, really. This unsettled state of affairs uses up the time, +and when one has notions in science, every moment is an opportunity. I +feel sure that marriage must be the best thing for a man who wants to +work steadily. He has everything at home thenno teasing with personal +speculationshe can get calmness and freedom. + +You are an enviable dog, said the Vicar, to have such a +prospectRosamond, calmness and freedom, all to your share. Here am I +with nothing but my pipe and pond-animalcules. Now, are you ready? + +Lydgate did not mention to the Vicar another reason he had for wishing +to shorten the period of courtship. It was rather irritating to him, +even with the wine of love in his veins, to be obliged to mingle so +often with the family party at the Vincys, and to enter so much into +Middlemarch gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing, and general +futility. He had to be deferential when Mr. Vincy decided questions +with trenchant ignorance, especially as to those liquors which were the +best inward pickle, preserving you from the effects of bad air. Mrs. +Vincys openness and simplicity were quite unstreaked with suspicion as +to the subtle offence she might give to the taste of her intended +son-in-law; and altogether Lydgate had to confess to himself that he +was descending a little in relation to Rosamonds family. But that +exquisite creature herself suffered in the same sort of way:it was at +least one delightful thought that in marrying her, he could give her a +much-needed transplantation. + +Dear! he said to her one evening, in his gentlest tone, as he sat +down by her and looked closely at her face + +But I must first say that he had found her alone in the drawing-room, +where the great old-fashioned window, almost as large as the side of +the room, was opened to the summer scents of the garden at the back of +the house. Her father and mother were gone to a party, and the rest +were all out with the butterflies. + +Dear! your eyelids are red. + +Are they? said Rosamond. I wonder why. It was not in her nature to +pour forth wishes or grievances. They only came forth gracefully on +solicitation. + +As if you could hide it from me! said Lydgate, laying his hand +tenderly on both of hers. Dont I see a tiny drop on one of the +lashes? Things trouble you, and you dont tell me. That is unloving. + +Why should I tell you what you cannot alter? They are every-day +things:perhaps they have been a little worse lately. + +Family annoyances. Dont fear speaking. I guess them. + +Papa has been more irritable lately. Fred makes him angry, and this +morning there was a fresh quarrel because Fred threatens to throw his +whole education away, and do something quite beneath him. And besides + +Rosamond hesitated, and her cheeks were gathering a slight flush. +Lydgate had never seen her in trouble since the morning of their +engagement, and he had never felt so passionately towards her as at +this moment. He kissed the hesitating lips gently, as if to encourage +them. + +I feel that papa is not quite pleased about our engagement, Rosamond +continued, almost in a whisper; and he said last night that he should +certainly speak to you and say it must be given up. + +Will you give it up? said Lydgate, with quick energyalmost angrily. + +I never give up anything that I choose to do, said Rosamond, +recovering her calmness at the touching of this chord. + +God bless you! said Lydgate, kissing her again. This constancy of +purpose in the right place was adorable. He went on: + +It is too late now for your father to say that our engagement must be +given up. You are of age, and I claim you as mine. If anything is done +to make you unhappy,that is a reason for hastening our marriage. + +An unmistakable delight shone forth from the blue eyes that met his, +and the radiance seemed to light up all his future with mild sunshine. +Ideal happiness (of the kind known in the Arabian Nights, in which you +are invited to step from the labor and discord of the street into a +paradise where everything is given to you and nothing claimed) seemed +to be an affair of a few weeks waiting, more or less. + +Why should we defer it? he said, with ardent insistence. I have +taken the house now: everything else can soon be got readycan it not? +You will not mind about new clothes. Those can be bought afterwards. + +What original notions you clever men have! said Rosamond, dimpling +with more thorough laughter than usual at this humorous incongruity. +This is the first time I ever heard of wedding-clothes being bought +after marriage. + +But you dont mean to say you would insist on my waiting months for +the sake of clothes? said Lydgate, half thinking that Rosamond was +tormenting him prettily, and half fearing that she really shrank from +speedy marriage. Remember, we are looking forward to a better sort of +happiness even than thisbeing continually together, independent of +others, and ordering our lives as we will. Come, dear, tell me how soon +you can be altogether mine. + +There was a serious pleading in Lydgates tone, as if he felt that she +would be injuring him by any fantastic delays. Rosamond became serious +too, and slightly meditative; in fact, she was going through many +intricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in order +to give an answer that would at least be approximative. + +Six weeks would be amplesay so, Rosamond, insisted Lydgate, +releasing her hands to put his arm gently round her. + +One little hand immediately went to pat her hair, while she gave her +neck a meditative turn, and then said seriously + +There would be the house-linen and the furniture to be prepared. +Still, mamma could see to those while we were away. + +Yes, to be sure. We must be away a week or so. + +Oh, more than that! said Rosamond, earnestly. She was thinking of her +evening dresses for the visit to Sir Godwin Lydgates, which she had +long been secretly hoping for as a delightful employment of at least +one quarter of the honeymoon, even if she deferred her introduction to +the uncle who was a doctor of divinity (also a pleasing though sober +kind of rank, when sustained by blood). She looked at her lover with +some wondering remonstrance as she spoke, and he readily understood +that she might wish to lengthen the sweet time of double solitude. + +Whatever you wish, my darling, when the day is fixed. But let us take +a decided course, and put an end to any discomfort you may be +suffering. Six weeks!I am sure they would be ample. + +I could certainly hasten the work, said Rosamond. Will you, then, +mention it to papa?I think it would be better to write to him. She +blushed and looked at him as the garden flowers look at us when we walk +forth happily among them in the transcendent evening light: is there +not a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half child, in those delicate +petals which glow and breathe about the centres of deep color? + +He touched her ear and a little bit of neck under it with his lips, and +they sat quite still for many minutes which flowed by them like a small +gurgling brook with the kisses of the sun upon it. Rosamond thought +that no one could be more in love than she was; and Lydgate thought +that after all his wild mistakes and absurd credulity, he had found +perfect womanhoodfelt as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded +affection such as would be bestowed by an accomplished creature who +venerated his high musings and momentous labors and would never +interfere with them; who would create order in the home and accounts +with still magic, yet keep her fingers ready to touch the lute and +transform life into romance at any moment; who was instructed to the +true womanly limit and not a hairs-breadth beyonddocile, therefore, +and ready to carry out behests which came from that limit. It was +plainer now than ever that his notion of remaining much longer a +bachelor had been a mistake: marriage would not be an obstruction but a +furtherance. And happening the next day to accompany a patient to +Brassing, he saw a dinner-service there which struck him as so exactly +the right thing that he bought it at once. It saved time to do these +things just when you thought of them, and Lydgate hated ugly crockery. +The dinner-service in question was expensive, but that might be in the +nature of dinner-services. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; but +then it had to be done only once. + +It must be lovely, said Mrs. Vincy, when Lydgate mentioned his +purchase with some descriptive touches. Just what Rosy ought to have. +I trust in heaven it wont be broken! + +One must hire servants who will not break things, said Lydgate. +(Certainly, this was reasoning with an imperfect vision of sequences. +But at that period there was no sort of reasoning which was not more or +less sanctioned by men of science.) + +Of course it was unnecessary to defer the mention of anything to mamma, +who did not readily take views that were not cheerful, and being a +happy wife herself, had hardly any feeling but pride in her daughters +marriage. But Rosamond had good reasons for suggesting to Lydgate that +papa should be appealed to in writing. She prepared for the arrival of +the letter by walking with her papa to the warehouse the next morning, +and telling him on the way that Mr. Lydgate wished to be married soon. + +Nonsense, my dear! said Mr. Vincy. What has he got to marry on? +Youd much better give up the engagement. Ive told you so pretty +plainly before this. What have you had such an education for, if you +are to go and marry a poor man? Its a cruel thing for a father to +see. + +Mr. Lydgate is not poor, papa. He bought Mr. Peacocks practice, +which, they say, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year. + +Stuff and nonsense! Whats buying a practice? He might as well buy +next years swallows. Itll all slip through his fingers. + +On the contrary, papa, he will increase the practice. See how he has +been called in by the Chettams and Casaubons. + +I hope he knows I shant give anythingwith this disappointment about +Fred, and Parliament going to be dissolved, and machine-breaking +everywhere, and an election coming on + +Dear papa! what can that have to do with my marriage? + +A pretty deal to do with it! We may all be ruined for what I knowthe +countrys in that state! Some say its the end of the world, and be +hanged if I dont think it looks like it! Anyhow, its not a time for +me to be drawing money out of my business, and I should wish Lydgate to +know that. + +I am sure he expects nothing, papa. And he has such very high +connections: he is sure to rise in one way or another. He is engaged in +making scientific discoveries. + +Mr. Vincy was silent. + +I cannot give up my only prospect of happiness, papa. Mr. Lydgate is a +gentleman. I could never love any one who was not a perfect gentleman. +You would not like me to go into a consumption, as Arabella Hawley did. +And you know that I never change my mind. + +Again papa was silent. + +Promise me, papa, that you will consent to what we wish. We shall +never give each other up; and you know that you have always objected to +long courtships and late marriages. + +There was a little more urgency of this kind, till Mr. Vincy said, +Well, well, child, he must write to me first before I can answer +him,and Rosamond was certain that she had gained her point. + +Mr. Vincys answer consisted chiefly in a demand that Lydgate should +insure his lifea demand immediately conceded. This was a delightfully +reassuring idea supposing that Lydgate died, but in the mean time not a +self-supporting idea. However, it seemed to make everything comfortable +about Rosamonds marriage; and the necessary purchases went on with +much spirit. Not without prudential considerations, however. A bride +(who is going to visit at a baronets) must have a few first-rate +pocket-handkerchiefs; but beyond the absolutely necessary half-dozen, +Rosamond contented herself without the very highest style of embroidery +and Valenciennes. Lydgate also, finding that his sum of eight hundred +pounds had been considerably reduced since he had come to Middlemarch, +restrained his inclination for some plate of an old pattern which was +shown to him when he went into Kibbles establishment at Brassing to +buy forks and spoons. He was too proud to act as if he presupposed that +Mr. Vincy would advance money to provide furniture; and though, since +it would not be necessary to pay for everything at once, some bills +would be left standing over, he did not waste time in conjecturing how +much his father-in-law would give in the form of dowry, to make payment +easy. He was not going to do anything extravagant, but the requisite +things must be bought, and it would be bad economy to buy them of a +poor quality. All these matters were by the bye. Lydgate foresaw that +science and his profession were the objects he should alone pursue +enthusiastically; but he could not imagine himself pursuing them in +such a home as Wrench hadthe doors all open, the oil-cloth worn, the +children in soiled pinafores, and lunch lingering in the form of bones, +black-handled knives, and willow-pattern. But Wrench had a wretched +lymphatic wife who made a mummy of herself indoors in a large shawl; +and he must have altogether begun with an ill-chosen domestic +apparatus. + +Rosamond, however, was on her side much occupied with conjectures, +though her quick imitative perception warned her against betraying them +too crudely. + +I shall like so much to know your family, she said one day, when the +wedding journey was being discussed. We might perhaps take a direction +that would allow us to see them as we returned. Which of your uncles do +you like best? + +Oh,my uncle Godwin, I think. He is a good-natured old fellow. + +You were constantly at his house at Quallingham, when you were a boy, +were you not? I should so like to see the old spot and everything you +were used to. Does he know you are going to be married? + +No, said Lydgate, carelessly, turning in his chair and rubbing his +hair up. + +Do send him word of it, you naughty undutiful nephew. He will perhaps +ask you to take me to Quallingham; and then you could show me about the +grounds, and I could imagine you there when you were a boy. Remember, +you see me in my home, just as it has been since I was a child. It is +not fair that I should be so ignorant of yours. But perhaps you would +be a little ashamed of me. I forgot that. + +Lydgate smiled at her tenderly, and really accepted the suggestion that +the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some +trouble. And now he came to think of it, he would like to see the old +spots with Rosamond. + +I will write to him, then. But my cousins are bores. + +It seemed magnificent to Rosamond to be able to speak so slightingly of +a baronets family, and she felt much contentment in the prospect of +being able to estimate them contemptuously on her own account. + +But mamma was near spoiling all, a day or two later, by saying + +I hope your uncle Sir Godwin will not look down on Rosy, Mr. Lydgate. +I should think he would do something handsome. A thousand or two can be +nothing to a baronet. + +Mamma! said Rosamond, blushing deeply; and Lydgate pitied her so much +that he remained silent and went to the other end of the room to +examine a print curiously, as if he had been absent-minded. Mamma had a +little filial lecture afterwards, and was docile as usual. But Rosamond +reflected that if any of those high-bred cousins who were bores, should +be induced to visit Middlemarch, they would see many things in her own +family which might shock them. Hence it seemed desirable that Lydgate +should by-and-by get some first-rate position elsewhere than in +Middlemarch; and this could hardly be difficult in the case of a man +who had a titled uncle and could make discoveries. Lydgate, you +perceive, had talked fervidly to Rosamond of his hopes as to the +highest uses of his life, and had found it delightful to be listened to +by a creature who would bring him the sweet furtherance of satisfying +affectionbeautyreposesuch help as our thoughts get from the summer +sky and the flower-fringed meadows. + +Lydgate relied much on the psychological difference between what for +the sake of variety I will call goose and gander: especially on the +innate submissiveness of the goose as beautifully corresponding to the +strength of the gander. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +Thrice happy she that is so well assured +Unto herself and settled so in heart +That neither will for better be allured +Ne fears to worse with any chance to start, +But like a steddy ship doth strongly part +The raging waves and keeps her course aright; +Ne aught for tempest doth from it depart, +Ne aught for fairer weathers false delight. +Such self-assurance need not fear the spight +Of grudging foes; ne favour seek of friends; +But in the stay of her own stedfast might +Neither to one herself nor other bends. + Most happy she that most assured doth rest, + But he most happy who such one loves best. +SPENSER. + + +The doubt hinted by Mr. Vincy whether it were only the general election +or the end of the world that was coming on, now that George the Fourth +was dead, Parliament dissolved, Wellington and Peel generally +depreciated and the new King apologetic, was a feeble type of the +uncertainties in provincial opinion at that time. With the glow-worm +lights of country places, how could men see which were their own +thoughts in the confusion of a Tory Ministry passing Liberal measures, +of Tory nobles and electors being anxious to return Liberals rather +than friends of the recreant Ministers, and of outcries for remedies +which seemed to have a mysteriously remote bearing on private interest, +and were made suspicious by the advocacy of disagreeable neighbors? +Buyers of the Middlemarch newspapers found themselves in an anomalous +position: during the agitation on the Catholic Question many had given +up the Pioneerwhich had a motto from Charles James Fox and was in +the van of progressbecause it had taken Peels side about the Papists, +and had thus blotted its Liberalism with a toleration of Jesuitry and +Baal; but they were ill-satisfied with the Trumpet, whichsince its +blasts against Rome, and in the general flaccidity of the public mind +(nobody knowing who would support whom)had become feeble in its +blowing. + +It was a time, according to a noticeable article in the Pioneer, when +the crying needs of the country might well counteract a reluctance to +public action on the part of men whose minds had from long experience +acquired breadth as well as concentration, decision of judgment as well +as tolerance, dispassionateness as well as energyin fact, all those +qualities which in the melancholy experience of mankind have been the +least disposed to share lodgings. + +Mr. Hackbutt, whose fluent speech was at that time floating more widely +than usual, and leaving much uncertainty as to its ultimate channel, +was heard to say in Mr. Hawleys office that the article in question +emanated from Brooke of Tipton, and that Brooke had secretly bought +the Pioneer some months ago. + +That means mischief, eh? said Mr. Hawley. Hes got the freak of +being a popular man now, after dangling about like a stray tortoise. So +much the worse for him. Ive had my eye on him for some time. He shall +be prettily pumped upon. Hes a damned bad landlord. What business has +an old county man to come currying favor with a low set of dark-blue +freemen? As to his paper, I only hope he may do the writing himself. It +would be worth our paying for. + +I understand he has got a very brilliant young fellow to edit it, who +can write the highest style of leading article, quite equal to anything +in the London papers. And he means to take very high ground on Reform. + +Let Brooke reform his rent-roll. Hes a cursed old screw, and the +buildings all over his estate are going to rack. I suppose this young +fellow is some loose fish from London. + +His name is Ladislaw. He is said to be of foreign extraction. + +I know the sort, said Mr. Hawley; some emissary. Hell begin with +flourishing about the Rights of Man and end with murdering a wench. +Thats the style. + +You must concede that there are abuses, Hawley, said Mr. Hackbutt, +foreseeing some political disagreement with his family lawyer. I +myself should never favor immoderate viewsin fact I take my stand with +Huskissonbut I cannot blind myself to the consideration that the +non-representation of large towns + +Large towns be damned! said Mr. Hawley, impatient of exposition. I +know a little too much about Middlemarch elections. Let em quash every +pocket borough to-morrow, and bring in every mushroom town in the +kingdomtheyll only increase the expense of getting into Parliament. I +go upon facts. + +Mr. Hawleys disgust at the notion of the Pioneer being edited by an +emissary, and of Brooke becoming actively politicalas if a tortoise of +desultory pursuits should protrude its small head ambitiously and +become rampantwas hardly equal to the annoyance felt by some members +of Mr. Brookes own family. The result had oozed forth gradually, like +the discovery that your neighbor has set up an unpleasant kind of +manufacture which will be permanently under your nostrils without legal +remedy. The Pioneer had been secretly bought even before Will +Ladislaws arrival, the expected opportunity having offered itself in +the readiness of the proprietor to part with a valuable property which +did not pay; and in the interval since Mr. Brooke had written his +invitation, those germinal ideas of making his mind tell upon the world +at large which had been present in him from his younger years, but had +hitherto lain in some obstruction, had been sprouting under cover. + +The development was much furthered by a delight in his guest which +proved greater even than he had anticipated. For it seemed that Will +was not only at home in all those artistic and literary subjects which +Mr. Brooke had gone into at one time, but that he was strikingly ready +at seizing the points of the political situation, and dealing with them +in that large spirit which, aided by adequate memory, lends itself to +quotation and general effectiveness of treatment. + +He seems to me a kind of Shelley, you know, Mr. Brooke took an +opportunity of saying, for the gratification of Mr. Casaubon. I dont +mean as to anything objectionablelaxities or atheism, or anything of +that kind, you knowLadislaws sentiments in every way I am sure are +goodindeed, we were talking a great deal together last night. But he +has the same sort of enthusiasm for liberty, freedom, emancipationa +fine thing under guidanceunder guidance, you know. I think I shall be +able to put him on the right tack; and I am the more pleased because he +is a relation of yours, Casaubon. + +If the right tack implied anything more precise than the rest of Mr. +Brookes speech, Mr. Casaubon silently hoped that it referred to some +occupation at a great distance from Lowick. He had disliked Will while +he helped him, but he had begun to dislike him still more now that Will +had declined his help. That is the way with us when we have any uneasy +jealousy in our disposition: if our talents are chiefly of the +burrowing kind, our honey-sipping cousin (whom we have grave reasons +for objecting to) is likely to have a secret contempt for us, and any +one who admires him passes an oblique criticism on ourselves. Having +the scruples of rectitude in our souls, we are above the meanness of +injuring himrather we meet all his claims on us by active benefits; +and the drawing of cheques for him, being a superiority which he must +recognize, gives our bitterness a milder infusion. Now Mr. Casaubon had +been deprived of that superiority (as anything more than a remembrance) +in a sudden, capricious manner. His antipathy to Will did not spring +from the common jealousy of a winter-worn husband: it was something +deeper, bred by his lifelong claims and discontents; but Dorothea, now +that she was presentDorothea, as a young wife who herself had shown an +offensive capability of criticism, necessarily gave concentration to +the uneasiness which had before been vague. + +Will Ladislaw on his side felt that his dislike was flourishing at the +expense of his gratitude, and spent much inward discourse in justifying +the dislike. Casaubon hated himhe knew that very well; on his first +entrance he could discern a bitterness in the mouth and a venom in the +glance which would almost justify declaring war in spite of past +benefits. He was much obliged to Casaubon in the past, but really the +act of marrying this wife was a set-off against the obligation. It was +a question whether gratitude which refers to what is done for ones +self ought not to give way to indignation at what is done against +another. And Casaubon had done a wrong to Dorothea in marrying her. A +man was bound to know himself better than that, and if he chose to grow +gray crunching bones in a cavern, he had no business to be luring a +girl into his companionship. It is the most horrible of +virgin-sacrifices, said Will; and he painted to himself what were +Dorotheas inward sorrows as if he had been writing a choric wail. But +he would never lose sight of her: he would watch over herif he gave up +everything else in life he would watch over her, and she should know +that she had one slave in the world. Will hadto use Sir Thomas +Brownes phrasea passionate prodigality of statement both to himself +and others. The simple truth was that nothing then invited him so +strongly as the presence of Dorothea. + +Invitations of the formal kind had been wanting, however, for Will had +never been asked to go to Lowick. Mr. Brooke, indeed, confident of +doing everything agreeable which Casaubon, poor fellow, was too much +absorbed to think of, had arranged to bring Ladislaw to Lowick several +times (not neglecting meanwhile to introduce him elsewhere on every +opportunity as a young relative of Casaubons). And though Will had +not seen Dorothea alone, their interviews had been enough to restore +her former sense of young companionship with one who was cleverer than +herself, yet seemed ready to be swayed by her. Poor Dorothea before her +marriage had never found much room in other minds for what she cared +most to say; and she had not, as we know, enjoyed her husbands +superior instruction so much as she had expected. If she spoke with any +keenness of interest to Mr. Casaubon, he heard her with an air of +patience as if she had given a quotation from the Delectus familiar to +him from his tender years, and sometimes mentioned curtly what ancient +sects or personages had held similar ideas, as if there were too much +of that sort in stock already; at other times he would inform her that +she was mistaken, and reassert what her remark had questioned. + +But Will Ladislaw always seemed to see more in what she said than she +herself saw. Dorothea had little vanity, but she had the ardent womans +need to rule beneficently by making the joy of another soul. Hence the +mere chance of seeing Will occasionally was like a lunette opened in +the wall of her prison, giving her a glimpse of the sunny air; and this +pleasure began to nullify her original alarm at what her husband might +think about the introduction of Will as her uncles guest. On this +subject Mr. Casaubon had remained dumb. + +But Will wanted to talk with Dorothea alone, and was impatient of slow +circumstance. However slight the terrestrial intercourse between Dante +and Beatrice or Petrarch and Laura, time changes the proportion of +things, and in later days it is preferable to have fewer sonnets and +more conversation. Necessity excused stratagem, but stratagem was +limited by the dread of offending Dorothea. He found out at last that +he wanted to take a particular sketch at Lowick; and one morning when +Mr. Brooke had to drive along the Lowick road on his way to the county +town, Will asked to be set down with his sketch-book and camp-stool at +Lowick, and without announcing himself at the Manor settled himself to +sketch in a position where he must see Dorothea if she came out to +walkand he knew that she usually walked an hour in the morning. + +But the stratagem was defeated by the weather. Clouds gathered with +treacherous quickness, the rain came down, and Will was obliged to take +shelter in the house. He intended, on the strength of relationship, to +go into the drawing-room and wait there without being announced; and +seeing his old acquaintance the butler in the hall, he said, Dont +mention that I am here, Pratt; I will wait till luncheon; I know Mr. +Casaubon does not like to be disturbed when he is in the library. + +Master is out, sir; theres only Mrs. Casaubon in the library. Id +better tell her youre here, sir, said Pratt, a red-cheeked man given +to lively converse with Tantripp, and often agreeing with her that it +must be dull for Madam. + +Oh, very well; this confounded rain has hindered me from sketching, +said Will, feeling so happy that he affected indifference with +delightful ease. + +In another minute he was in the library, and Dorothea was meeting him +with her sweet unconstrained smile. + +Mr. Casaubon has gone to the Archdeacons, she said, at once. I +dont know whether he will be at home again long before dinner. He was +uncertain how long he should be. Did you want to say anything +particular to him? + +No; I came to sketch, but the rain drove me in. Else I would not have +disturbed you yet. I supposed that Mr. Casaubon was here, and I know he +dislikes interruption at this hour. + +I am indebted to the rain, then. I am so glad to see you. Dorothea +uttered these common words with the simple sincerity of an unhappy +child, visited at school. + +I really came for the chance of seeing you alone, said Will, +mysteriously forced to be just as simple as she was. He could not stay +to ask himself, why not? I wanted to talk about things, as we did in +Rome. It always makes a difference when other people are present. + +Yes, said Dorothea, in her clear full tone of assent. Sit down. She +seated herself on a dark ottoman with the brown books behind her, +looking in her plain dress of some thin woollen-white material, without +a single ornament on her besides her wedding-ring, as if she were under +a vow to be different from all other women; and Will sat down opposite +her at two yards distance, the light falling on his bright curls and +delicate but rather petulant profile, with its defiant curves of lip +and chin. Each looked at the other as if they had been two flowers +which had opened then and there. Dorothea for the moment forgot her +husbands mysterious irritation against Will: it seemed fresh water at +her thirsty lips to speak without fear to the one person whom she had +found receptive; for in looking backward through sadness she +exaggerated a past solace. + +I have often thought that I should like to talk to you again, she +said, immediately. It seems strange to me how many things I said to +you. + +I remember them all, said Will, with the unspeakable content in his +soul of feeling that he was in the presence of a creature worthy to be +perfectly loved. I think his own feelings at that moment were perfect, +for we mortals have our divine moments, when love is satisfied in the +completeness of the beloved object. + +I have tried to learn a great deal since we were in Rome, said +Dorothea. I can read Latin a little, and I am beginning to understand +just a little Greek. I can help Mr. Casaubon better now. I can find out +references for him and save his eyes in many ways. But it is very +difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way +to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too +tired. + +If a man has a capacity for great thoughts, he is likely to overtake +them before he is decrepit, said Will, with irrepressible quickness. +But through certain sensibilities Dorothea was as quick as he, and +seeing her face change, he added, immediately, But it is quite true +that the best minds have been sometimes overstrained in working out +their ideas. + +You correct me, said Dorothea. I expressed myself ill. I should have +said that those who have great thoughts get too much worn in working +them out. I used to feel about that, even when I was a little girl; and +it always seemed to me that the use I should like to make of my life +would be to help some one who did great works, so that his burthen +might be lighter. + +Dorothea was led on to this bit of autobiography without any sense of +making a revelation. But she had never before said anything to Will +which threw so strong a light on her marriage. He did not shrug his +shoulders; and for want of that muscular outlet he thought the more +irritably of beautiful lips kissing holy skulls and other emptinesses +ecclesiastically enshrined. Also he had to take care that his speech +should not betray that thought. + +But you may easily carry the help too far, he said, and get +over-wrought yourself. Are you not too much shut up? You already look +paler. It would be better for Mr. Casaubon to have a secretary; he +could easily get a man who would do half his work for him. It would +save him more effectually, and you need only help him in lighter ways. + +How can you think of that? said Dorothea, in a tone of earnest +remonstrance. I should have no happiness if I did not help him in his +work. What could I do? There is no good to be done in Lowick. The only +thing I desire is to help him more. And he objects to a secretary: +please not to mention that again. + +Certainly not, now I know your feeling. But I have heard both Mr. +Brooke and Sir James Chettam express the same wish. + +Yes, said Dorothea, but they dont understandthey want me to be a +great deal on horseback, and have the garden altered and new +conservatories, to fill up my days. I thought you could understand that +ones mind has other wants, she added, rather impatientlybesides, +Mr. Casaubon cannot bear to hear of a secretary. + +My mistake is excusable, said Will. In old days I used to hear Mr. +Casaubon speak as if he looked forward to having a secretary. Indeed he +held out the prospect of that office to me. But I turned out to benot +good enough for it. + +Dorothea was trying to extract out of this an excuse for her husbands +evident repulsion, as she said, with a playful smile, You were not a +steady worker enough. + +No, said Will, shaking his head backward somewhat after the manner of +a spirited horse. And then, the old irritable demon prompting him to +give another good pinch at the moth-wings of poor Mr. Casaubons glory, +he went on, And I have seen since that Mr. Casaubon does not like any +one to overlook his work and know thoroughly what he is doing. He is +too doubtfultoo uncertain of himself. I may not be good for much, but +he dislikes me because I disagree with him. + +Will was not without his intentions to be always generous, but our +tongues are little triggers which have usually been pulled before +general intentions can be brought to bear. And it was too intolerable +that Casaubons dislike of him should not be fairly accounted for to +Dorothea. Yet when he had spoken he was rather uneasy as to the effect +on her. + +But Dorothea was strangely quietnot immediately indignant, as she had +been on a like occasion in Rome. And the cause lay deep. She was no +longer struggling against the perception of facts, but adjusting +herself to their clearest perception; and now when she looked steadily +at her husbands failure, still more at his possible consciousness of +failure, she seemed to be looking along the one track where duty became +tenderness. Wills want of reticence might have been met with more +severity, if he had not already been recommended to her mercy by her +husbands dislike, which must seem hard to her till she saw better +reason for it. + +She did not answer at once, but after looking down ruminatingly she +said, with some earnestness, Mr. Casaubon must have overcome his +dislike of you so far as his actions were concerned: and that is +admirable. + +Yes; he has shown a sense of justice in family matters. It was an +abominable thing that my grandmother should have been disinherited +because she made what they called a _mesalliance_, though there was +nothing to be said against her husband except that he was a Polish +refugee who gave lessons for his bread. + +I wish I knew all about her! said Dorothea. I wonder how she bore +the change from wealth to poverty: I wonder whether she was happy with +her husband! Do you know much about them? + +No; only that my grandfather was a patriota bright fellowcould speak +many languagesmusicalgot his bread by teaching all sorts of things. +They both died rather early. And I never knew much of my father, beyond +what my mother told me; but he inherited the musical talents. I +remember his slow walk and his long thin hands; and one day remains +with me when he was lying ill, and I was very hungry, and had only a +little bit of bread. + +Ah, what a different life from mine! said Dorothea, with keen +interest, clasping her hands on her lap. I have always had too much of +everything. But tell me how it wasMr. Casaubon could not have known +about you then. + +No; but my father had made himself known to Mr. Casaubon, and that was +my last hungry day. My father died soon after, and my mother and I were +well taken care of. Mr. Casaubon always expressly recognized it as his +duty to take care of us because of the harsh injustice which had been +shown to his mothers sister. But now I am telling you what is not new +to you. + +In his inmost soul Will was conscious of wishing to tell Dorothea what +was rather new even in his own construction of thingsnamely, that Mr. +Casaubon had never done more than pay a debt towards him. Will was much +too good a fellow to be easy under the sense of being ungrateful. And +when gratitude has become a matter of reasoning there are many ways of +escaping from its bonds. + +No, answered Dorothea; Mr. Casaubon has always avoided dwelling on +his own honorable actions. She did not feel that her husbands conduct +was depreciated; but this notion of what justice had required in his +relations with Will Ladislaw took strong hold on her mind. After a +moments pause, she added, He had never told me that he supported your +mother. Is she still living? + +No; she died by an accidenta fallfour years ago. It is curious that +my mother, too, ran away from her family, but not for the sake of her +husband. She never would tell me anything about her family, except that +she forsook them to get her own livingwent on the stage, in fact. She +was a dark-eyed creature, with crisp ringlets, and never seemed to be +getting old. You see I come of rebellious blood on both sides, Will +ended, smiling brightly at Dorothea, while she was still looking with +serious intentness before her, like a child seeing a drama for the +first time. + +But her face, too, broke into a smile as she said, That is your +apology, I suppose, for having yourself been rather rebellious; I mean, +to Mr. Casaubons wishes. You must remember that you have not done what +he thought best for you. And if he dislikes youyou were speaking of +dislike a little while agobut I should rather say, if he has shown any +painful feelings towards you, you must consider how sensitive he has +become from the wearing effect of study. Perhaps, she continued, +getting into a pleading tone, my uncle has not told you how serious +Mr. Casaubons illness was. It would be very petty of us who are well +and can bear things, to think much of small offences from those who +carry a weight of trial. + +You teach me better, said Will. I will never grumble on that subject +again. There was a gentleness in his tone which came from the +unutterable contentment of perceivingwhat Dorothea was hardly +conscious ofthat she was travelling into the remoteness of pure pity +and loyalty towards her husband. Will was ready to adore her pity and +loyalty, if she would associate himself with her in manifesting them. +I have really sometimes been a perverse fellow, he went on, but I +will never again, if I can help it, do or say what you would +disapprove. + +That is very good of you, said Dorothea, with another open smile. I +shall have a little kingdom then, where I shall give laws. But you will +soon go away, out of my rule, I imagine. You will soon be tired of +staying at the Grange. + +That is a point I wanted to mention to youone of the reasons why I +wished to speak to you alone. Mr. Brooke proposes that I should stay in +this neighborhood. He has bought one of the Middlemarch newspapers, and +he wishes me to conduct that, and also to help him in other ways. + +Would not that be a sacrifice of higher prospects for you? said +Dorothea. + +Perhaps; but I have always been blamed for thinking of prospects, and +not settling to anything. And here is something offered to me. If you +would not like me to accept it, I will give it up. Otherwise I would +rather stay in this part of the country than go away. I belong to +nobody anywhere else. + +I should like you to stay very much, said Dorothea, at once, as +simply and readily as she had spoken at Rome. There was not the shadow +of a reason in her mind at the moment why she should not say so. + +Then I _will_ stay, said Ladislaw, shaking his head backward, rising +and going towards the window, as if to see whether the rain had ceased. + +But the next moment, Dorothea, according to a habit which was getting +continually stronger, began to reflect that her husband felt +differently from herself, and she colored deeply under the double +embarrassment of having expressed what might be in opposition to her +husbands feeling, and of having to suggest this opposition to Will. +His face was not turned towards her, and this made it easier to say + +But my opinion is of little consequence on such a subject. I think you +should be guided by Mr. Casaubon. I spoke without thinking of anything +else than my own feeling, which has nothing to do with the real +question. But it now occurs to meperhaps Mr. Casaubon might see that +the proposal was not wise. Can you not wait now and mention it to him? + +I cant wait to-day, said Will, inwardly seared by the possibility +that Mr. Casaubon would enter. The rain is quite over now. I told Mr. +Brooke not to call for me: I would rather walk the five miles. I shall +strike across Halsell Common, and see the gleams on the wet grass. I +like that. + +He approached her to shake hands quite hurriedly, longing but not +daring to say, Dont mention the subject to Mr. Casaubon. No, he +dared not, could not say it. To ask her to be less simple and direct +would be like breathing on the crystal that you want to see the light +through. And there was always the other great dreadof himself becoming +dimmed and forever ray-shorn in her eyes. + +I wish you could have stayed, said Dorothea, with a touch of +mournfulness, as she rose and put out her hand. She also had her +thought which she did not like to express:Will certainly ought to lose +no time in consulting Mr. Casaubons wishes, but for her to urge this +might seem an undue dictation. + +So they only said Good-by, and Will quitted the house, striking +across the fields so as not to run any risk of encountering Mr. +Casaubons carriage, which, however, did not appear at the gate until +four oclock. That was an unpropitious hour for coming home: it was too +early to gain the moral support under ennui of dressing his person for +dinner, and too late to undress his mind of the days frivolous +ceremony and affairs, so as to be prepared for a good plunge into the +serious business of study. On such occasions he usually threw into an +easy-chair in the library, and allowed Dorothea to read the London +papers to him, closing his eyes the while. To-day, however, he declined +that relief, observing that he had already had too many public details +urged upon him; but he spoke more cheerfully than usual, when Dorothea +asked about his fatigue, and added with that air of formal effort which +never forsook him even when he spoke without his waistcoat and cravat + +I have had the gratification of meeting my former acquaintance, Dr. +Spanning, to-day, and of being praised by one who is himself a worthy +recipient of praise. He spoke very handsomely of my late tractate on +the Egyptian Mysteries,using, in fact, terms which it would not become +me to repeat. In uttering the last clause, Mr. Casaubon leaned over +the elbow of his chair, and swayed his head up and down, apparently as +a muscular outlet instead of that recapitulation which would not have +been becoming. + +I am very glad you have had that pleasure, said Dorothea, delighted +to see her husband less weary than usual at this hour. Before you came +I had been regretting that you happened to be out to-day. + +Why so, my dear? said Mr. Casaubon, throwing himself backward again. + +Because Mr. Ladislaw has been here; and he has mentioned a proposal of +my uncles which I should like to know your opinion of. Her husband +she felt was really concerned in this question. Even with her ignorance +of the world she had a vague impression that the position offered to +Will was out of keeping with his family connections, and certainly Mr. +Casaubon had a claim to be consulted. He did not speak, but merely +bowed. + +Dear uncle, you know, has many projects. It appears that he has bought +one of the Middlemarch newspapers, and he has asked Mr. Ladislaw to +stay in this neighborhood and conduct the paper for him, besides +helping him in other ways. + +Dorothea looked at her husband while she spoke, but he had at first +blinked and finally closed his eyes, as if to save them; while his lips +became more tense. What is your opinion? she added, rather timidly, +after a slight pause. + +Did Mr. Ladislaw come on purpose to ask my opinion? said Mr. +Casaubon, opening his eyes narrowly with a knife-edged look at +Dorothea. She was really uncomfortable on the point he inquired about, +but she only became a little more serious, and her eyes did not swerve. + +No, she answered immediately, he did not say that he came to ask +your opinion. But when he mentioned the proposal, he of course expected +me to tell you of it. + +Mr. Casaubon was silent. + +I feared that you might feel some objection. But certainly a young man +with so much talent might be very useful to my unclemight help him to +do good in a better way. And Mr. Ladislaw wishes to have some fixed +occupation. He has been blamed, he says, for not seeking something of +that kind, and he would like to stay in this neighborhood because no +one cares for him elsewhere. + +Dorothea felt that this was a consideration to soften her husband. +However, he did not speak, and she presently recurred to Dr. Spanning +and the Archdeacons breakfast. But there was no longer sunshine on +these subjects. + +The next morning, without Dorotheas knowledge, Mr. Casaubon despatched +the following letter, beginning Dear Mr. Ladislaw (he had always +before addressed him as Will): + +Mrs. Casaubon informs me that a proposal has been made to you, and +(according to an inference by no means stretched) has on your part been +in some degree entertained, which involves your residence in this +neighborhood in a capacity which I am justified in saying touches my +own position in such a way as renders it not only natural and +warrantable in me when that effect is viewed under the influence of +legitimate feeling, but incumbent on me when the same effect is +considered in the light of my responsibilities, to state at once that +your acceptance of the proposal above indicated would be highly +offensive to me. That I have some claim to the exercise of a veto here, +would not, I believe, be denied by any reasonable person cognizant of +the relations between us: relations which, though thrown into the past +by your recent procedure, are not thereby annulled in their character +of determining antecedents. I will not here make reflections on any +persons judgment. It is enough for me to point out to yourself that +there are certain social fitnesses and proprieties which should hinder +a somewhat near relative of mine from becoming any wise conspicuous in +this vicinity in a status not only much beneath my own, but associated +at best with the sciolism of literary or political adventurers. At any +rate, the contrary issue must exclude you from further reception at my +house. + + +Yours faithfully, +EDWARD CASAUBON. + + +Meanwhile Dorotheas mind was innocently at work towards the further +embitterment of her husband; dwelling, with a sympathy that grew to +agitation, on what Will had told her about his parents and +grandparents. Any private hours in her day were usually spent in her +blue-green boudoir, and she had come to be very fond of its pallid +quaintness. Nothing had been outwardly altered there; but while the +summer had gradually advanced over the western fields beyond the avenue +of elms, the bare room had gathered within it those memories of an +inward life which fill the air as with a cloud of good or bad angels, +the invisible yet active forms of our spiritual triumphs or our +spiritual falls. She had been so used to struggle for and to find +resolve in looking along the avenue towards the arch of western light +that the vision itself had gained a communicating power. Even the pale +stag seemed to have reminding glances and to mean mutely, Yes, we +know. And the group of delicately touched miniatures had made an +audience as of beings no longer disturbed about their own earthly lot, +but still humanly interested. Especially the mysterious Aunt Julia +about whom Dorothea had never found it easy to question her husband. + +And now, since her conversation with Will, many fresh images had +gathered round that Aunt Julia who was Wills grandmother; the presence +of that delicate miniature, so like a living face that she knew, +helping to concentrate her feelings. What a wrong, to cut off the girl +from the family protection and inheritance only because she had chosen +a man who was poor! Dorothea, early troubling her elders with questions +about the facts around her, had wrought herself into some independent +clearness as to the historical, political reasons why eldest sons had +superior rights, and why land should be entailed: those reasons, +impressing her with a certain awe, might be weightier than she knew, +but here was a question of ties which left them uninfringed. Here was a +daughter whose childeven according to the ordinary aping of +aristocratic institutions by people who are no more aristocratic than +retired grocers, and who have no more land to keep together than a +lawn and a paddockwould have a prior claim. Was inheritance a question +of liking or of responsibility? All the energy of Dorotheas nature +went on the side of responsibilitythe fulfilment of claims founded on +our own deeds, such as marriage and parentage. + +It was true, she said to herself, that Mr. Casaubon had a debt to the +Ladislawsthat he had to pay back what the Ladislaws had been wronged +of. And now she began to think of her husbands will, which had been +made at the time of their marriage, leaving the bulk of his property to +her, with proviso in case of her having children. That ought to be +altered; and no time ought to be lost. This very question which had +just arisen about Will Ladislaws occupation, was the occasion for +placing things on a new, right footing. Her husband, she felt sure, +according to all his previous conduct, would be ready to take the just +view, if she proposed itshe, in whose interest an unfair concentration +of the property had been urged. His sense of right had surmounted and +would continue to surmount anything that might be called antipathy. She +suspected that her uncles scheme was disapproved by Mr. Casaubon, and +this made it seem all the more opportune that a fresh understanding +should be begun, so that instead of Wills starting penniless and +accepting the first function that offered itself, he should find +himself in possession of a rightful income which should be paid by her +husband during his life, and, by an immediate alteration of the will, +should be secured at his death. The vision of all this as what ought to +be done seemed to Dorothea like a sudden letting in of daylight, waking +her from her previous stupidity and incurious self-absorbed ignorance +about her husbands relation to others. Will Ladislaw had refused Mr. +Casaubons future aid on a ground that no longer appeared right to her; +and Mr. Casaubon had never himself seen fully what was the claim upon +him. But he will! said Dorothea. The great strength of his character +lies here. And what are we doing with our money? We make no use of half +of our income. My own money buys me nothing but an uneasy conscience. + +There was a peculiar fascination for Dorothea in this division of +property intended for herself, and always regarded by her as excessive. +She was blind, you see, to many things obvious to otherslikely to +tread in the wrong places, as Celia had warned her; yet her blindness +to whatever did not lie in her own pure purpose carried her safely by +the side of precipices where vision would have been perilous with fear. + +The thoughts which had gathered vividness in the solitude of her +boudoir occupied her incessantly through the day on which Mr. Casaubon +had sent his letter to Will. Everything seemed hindrance to her till +she could find an opportunity of opening her heart to her husband. To +his preoccupied mind all subjects were to be approached gently, and she +had never since his illness lost from her consciousness the dread of +agitating him. But when young ardor is set brooding over the conception +of a prompt deed, the deed itself seems to start forth with independent +life, mastering ideal obstacles. The day passed in a sombre fashion, +not unusual, though Mr. Casaubon was perhaps unusually silent; but +there were hours of the night which might be counted on as +opportunities of conversation; for Dorothea, when aware of her +husbands sleeplessness, had established a habit of rising, lighting a +candle, and reading him to sleep again. And this night she was from the +beginning sleepless, excited by resolves. He slept as usual for a few +hours, but she had risen softly and had sat in the darkness for nearly +an hour before he said + +Dorothea, since you are up, will you light a candle? + +Do you feel ill, dear? was her first question, as she obeyed him. + +No, not at all; but I shall be obliged, since you are up, if you will +read me a few pages of Lowth. + +May I talk to you a little instead? said Dorothea. + +Certainly. + +I have been thinking about money all daythat I have always had too +much, and especially the prospect of too much. + +These, my dear Dorothea, are providential arrangements. + +But if one has too much in consequence of others being wronged, it +seems to me that the divine voice which tells us to set that wrong +right must be obeyed. + +What, my love, is the bearing of your remark? + +That you have been too liberal in arrangements for meI mean, with +regard to property; and that makes me unhappy. + +How so? I have none but comparatively distant connections. + +I have been led to think about your aunt Julia, and how she was left +in poverty only because she married a poor man, an act which was not +disgraceful, since he was not unworthy. It was on that ground, I know, +that you educated Mr. Ladislaw and provided for his mother. + +Dorothea waited a few moments for some answer that would help her +onward. None came, and her next words seemed the more forcible to her, +falling clear upon the dark silence. + +But surely we should regard his claim as a much greater one, even to +the half of that property which I know that you have destined for me. +And I think he ought at once to be provided for on that understanding. +It is not right that he should be in the dependence of poverty while we +are rich. And if there is any objection to the proposal he mentioned, +the giving him his true place and his true share would set aside any +motive for his accepting it. + +Mr. Ladislaw has probably been speaking to you on this subject? said +Mr. Casaubon, with a certain biting quickness not habitual to him. + +Indeed, no! said Dorothea, earnestly. How can you imagine it, since +he has so lately declined everything from you? I fear you think too +hardly of him, dear. He only told me a little about his parents and +grandparents, and almost all in answer to my questions. You are so +good, so justyou have done everything you thought to be right. But it +seems to me clear that more than that is right; and I must speak about +it, since I am the person who would get what is called benefit by that +more not being done. + +There was a perceptible pause before Mr. Casaubon replied, not quickly +as before, but with a still more biting emphasis. + +Dorothea, my love, this is not the first occasion, but it were well +that it should be the last, on which you have assumed a judgment on +subjects beyond your scope. Into the question how far conduct, +especially in the matter of alliances, constitutes a forfeiture of +family claims, I do not now enter. Suffice it, that you are not here +qualified to discriminate. What I now wish you to understand is, that I +accept no revision, still less dictation within that range of affairs +which I have deliberated upon as distinctly and properly mine. It is +not for you to interfere between me and Mr. Ladislaw, and still less to +encourage communications from him to you which constitute a criticism +on my procedure. + +Poor Dorothea, shrouded in the darkness, was in a tumult of conflicting +emotions. Alarm at the possible effect on himself of her husbands +strongly manifested anger, would have checked any expression of her own +resentment, even if she had been quite free from doubt and compunction +under the consciousness that there might be some justice in his last +insinuation. Hearing him breathe quickly after he had spoken, she sat +listening, frightened, wretchedwith a dumb inward cry for help to bear +this nightmare of a life in which every energy was arrested by dread. +But nothing else happened, except that they both remained a long while +sleepless, without speaking again. + +The next day, Mr. Casaubon received the following answer from Will +Ladislaw: + +DEAR MR. CASAUBON,I have given all due consideration to your letter +of yesterday, but I am unable to take precisely your view of our mutual +position. With the fullest acknowledgment of your generous conduct to +me in the past, I must still maintain that an obligation of this kind +cannot fairly fetter me as you appear to expect that it should. Granted +that a benefactors wishes may constitute a claim; there must always be +a reservation as to the quality of those wishes. They may possibly +clash with more imperative considerations. Or a benefactors veto might +impose such a negation on a mans life that the consequent blank might +be more cruel than the benefaction was generous. I am merely using +strong illustrations. In the present case I am unable to take your view +of the bearing which my acceptance of occupationnot enriching +certainly, but not dishonorablewill have on your own position which +seems to me too substantial to be affected in that shadowy manner. And +though I do not believe that any change in our relations will occur +(certainly none has yet occurred) which can nullify the obligations +imposed on me by the past, pardon me for not seeing that those +obligations should restrain me from using the ordinary freedom of +living where I choose, and maintaining myself by any lawful occupation +I may choose. Regretting that there exists this difference between us +as to a relation in which the conferring of benefits has been entirely +on your side + + +I remain, yours with persistent obligation, +WILL LADISLAW. + + +Poor Mr. Casaubon felt (and must not we, being impartial, feel with him +a little?) that no man had juster cause for disgust and suspicion than +he. Young Ladislaw, he was sure, meant to defy and annoy him, meant to +win Dorotheas confidence and sow her mind with disrespect, and perhaps +aversion, towards her husband. Some motive beneath the surface had been +needed to account for Wills sudden change of course in rejecting Mr. +Casaubons aid and quitting his travels; and this defiant determination +to fix himself in the neighborhood by taking up something so much at +variance with his former choice as Mr. Brookes Middlemarch projects, +revealed clearly enough that the undeclared motive had relation to +Dorothea. Not for one moment did Mr. Casaubon suspect Dorothea of any +doubleness: he had no suspicions of her, but he had (what was little +less uncomfortable) the positive knowledge that her tendency to form +opinions about her husbands conduct was accompanied with a disposition +to regard Will Ladislaw favorably and be influenced by what he said. +His own proud reticence had prevented him from ever being undeceived in +the supposition that Dorothea had originally asked her uncle to invite +Will to his house. + +And now, on receiving Wills letter, Mr. Casaubon had to consider his +duty. He would never have been easy to call his action anything else +than duty; but in this case, contending motives thrust him back into +negations. + +Should he apply directly to Mr. Brooke, and demand of that troublesome +gentleman to revoke his proposal? Or should he consult Sir James +Chettam, and get him to concur in remonstrance against a step which +touched the whole family? In either case Mr. Casaubon was aware that +failure was just as probable as success. It was impossible for him to +mention Dorotheas name in the matter, and without some alarming +urgency Mr. Brooke was as likely as not, after meeting all +representations with apparent assent, to wind up by saying, Never +fear, Casaubon! Depend upon it, young Ladislaw will do you credit. +Depend upon it, I have put my finger on the right thing. And Mr. +Casaubon shrank nervously from communicating on the subject with Sir +James Chettam, between whom and himself there had never been any +cordiality, and who would immediately think of Dorothea without any +mention of her. + +Poor Mr. Casaubon was distrustful of everybodys feeling towards him, +especially as a husband. To let any one suppose that he was jealous +would be to admit their (suspected) view of his disadvantages: to let +them know that he did not find marriage particularly blissful would +imply his conversion to their (probably) earlier disapproval. It would +be as bad as letting Carp, and Brasenose generally, know how backward +he was in organizing the matter for his Key to all Mythologies. All +through his life Mr. Casaubon had been trying not to admit even to +himself the inward sores of self-doubt and jealousy. And on the most +delicate of all personal subjects, the habit of proud suspicious +reticence told doubly. + +Thus Mr. Casaubon remained proudly, bitterly silent. But he had +forbidden Will to come to Lowick Manor, and he was mentally preparing +other measures of frustration. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +Cest beaucoup que le jugement des hommes sur les actions humaines; +tt ou tard il devient efficace.GUIZOT. + + +Sir James Chettam could not look with any satisfaction on Mr. Brookes +new courses; but it was easier to object than to hinder. Sir James +accounted for his having come in alone one day to lunch with the +Cadwalladers by saying + +I cant talk to you as I want, before Celia: it might hurt her. +Indeed, it would not be right. + +I know what you meanthe Pioneer at the Grange! darted in Mrs. +Cadwallader, almost before the last word was off her friends tongue. +It is frightfulthis taking to buying whistles and blowing them in +everybodys hearing. Lying in bed all day and playing at dominoes, like +poor Lord Plessy, would be more private and bearable. + +I see they are beginning to attack our friend Brooke in the +Trumpet, said the Rector, lounging back and smiling easily, as he +would have done if he had been attacked himself. There are tremendous +sarcasms against a landlord not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who +receives his own rents, and makes no returns. + +I do wish Brooke would leave that off, said Sir James, with his +little frown of annoyance. + +Is he really going to be put in nomination, though? said Mr. +Cadwallader. I saw Farebrother yesterdayhes Whiggish himself, hoists +Brougham and Useful Knowledge; thats the worst I know of him;and he +says that Brooke is getting up a pretty strong party. Bulstrode, the +banker, is his foremost man. But he thinks Brooke would come off badly +at a nomination. + +Exactly, said Sir James, with earnestness. I have been inquiring +into the thing, for Ive never known anything about Middlemarch +politics beforethe county being my business. What Brooke trusts to, is +that they are going to turn out Oliver because he is a Peelite. But +Hawley tells me that if they send up a Whig at all it is sure to be +Bagster, one of those candidates who come from heaven knows where, but +dead against Ministers, and an experienced Parliamentary man. Hawleys +rather rough: he forgot that he was speaking to me. He said if Brooke +wanted a pelting, he could get it cheaper than by going to the +hustings. + +I warned you all of it, said Mrs. Cadwallader, waving her hands +outward. I said to Humphrey long ago, Mr. Brooke is going to make a +splash in the mud. And now he has done it. + +Well, he might have taken it into his head to marry, said the Rector. +That would have been a graver mess than a little flirtation with +politics. + +He may do that afterwards, said Mrs. Cadwalladerwhen he has come +out on the other side of the mud with an ague. + +What I care for most is his own dignity, said Sir James. Of course I +care the more because of the family. But hes getting on in life now, +and I dont like to think of his exposing himself. They will be raking +up everything against him. + +I suppose its no use trying any persuasion, said the Rector. +Theres such an odd mixture of obstinacy and changeableness in Brooke. +Have you tried him on the subject? + +Well, no, said Sir James; I feel a delicacy in appearing to dictate. +But I have been talking to this young Ladislaw that Brooke is making a +factotum of. Ladislaw seems clever enough for anything. I thought it as +well to hear what he had to say; and he is against Brookes standing +this time. I think hell turn him round: I think the nomination may be +staved off. + +I know, said Mrs. Cadwallader, nodding. The independent member +hasnt got his speeches well enough by heart. + +But this Ladislawthere again is a vexatious business, said Sir +James. We have had him two or three times to dine at the Hall (you +have met him, by the bye) as Brookes guest and a relation of +Casaubons, thinking he was only on a flying visit. And now I find hes +in everybodys mouth in Middlemarch as the editor of the Pioneer. +There are stories going about him as a quill-driving alien, a foreign +emissary, and what not. + +Casaubon wont like that, said the Rector. + +There _is_ some foreign blood in Ladislaw, returned Sir James. I +hope he wont go into extreme opinions and carry Brooke on. + +Oh, hes a dangerous young sprig, that Mr. Ladislaw, said Mrs. +Cadwallader, with his opera songs and his ready tongue. A sort of +Byronic heroan amorous conspirator, it strikes me. And Thomas Aquinas +is not fond of him. I could see that, the day the picture was brought. + +I dont like to begin on the subject with Casaubon, said Sir James. +He has more right to interfere than I. But its a disagreeable affair +all round. What a character for anybody with decent connections to show +himself in!one of those newspaper fellows! You have only to look at +Keck, who manages the Trumpet. I saw him the other day with Hawley. +His writing is sound enough, I believe, but hes such a low fellow, +that I wished he had been on the wrong side. + +What can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers? said the +Rector. I dont suppose you could get a high style of man anywhere to +be writing up interests he doesnt really care about, and for pay that +hardly keeps him in at elbows. + +Exactly: that makes it so annoying that Brooke should have put a man +who has a sort of connection with the family in a position of that +kind. For my part, I think Ladislaw is rather a fool for accepting. + +It is Aquinass fault, said Mrs. Cadwallader. Why didnt he use his +interest to get Ladislaw made an _attache_ or sent to India? That is +how families get rid of troublesome sprigs. + +There is no knowing to what lengths the mischief may go, said Sir +James, anxiously. But if Casaubon says nothing, what can I do? + +Oh my dear Sir James, said the Rector, dont let us make too much of +all this. It is likely enough to end in mere smoke. After a month or +two Brooke and this Master Ladislaw will get tired of each other; +Ladislaw will take wing; Brooke will sell the Pioneer, and everything +will settle down again as usual. + +There is one good chancethat he will not like to feel his money +oozing away, said Mrs. Cadwallader. If I knew the items of election +expenses I could scare him. Its no use plying him with wide words like +Expenditure: I wouldnt talk of phlebotomy, I would empty a pot of +leeches upon him. What we good stingy people dont like, is having our +sixpences sucked away from us. + +And he will not like having things raked up against him, said Sir +James. There is the management of his estate. They have begun upon +that already. And it really is painful for me to see. It is a nuisance +under ones very nose. I do think one is bound to do the best for ones +land and tenants, especially in these hard times. + +Perhaps the Trumpet may rouse him to make a change, and some good +may come of it all, said the Rector. I know I should be glad. I +should hear less grumbling when my tithe is paid. I dont know what I +should do if there were not a modus in Tipton. + +I want him to have a proper man to look after thingsI want him to +take on Garth again, said Sir James. He got rid of Garth twelve years +ago, and everything has been going wrong since. I think of getting +Garth to manage for mehe has made such a capital plan for my +buildings; and Lovegood is hardly up to the mark. But Garth would not +undertake the Tipton estate again unless Brooke left it entirely to +him. + +In the right of it too, said the Rector. Garth is an independent +fellow: an original, simple-minded fellow. One day, when he was doing +some valuation for me, he told me point-blank that clergymen seldom +understood anything about business, and did mischief when they meddled; +but he said it as quietly and respectfully as if he had been talking to +me about sailors. He would make a different parish of Tipton, if Brooke +would let him manage. I wish, by the help of the Trumpet, you could +bring that round. + +If Dorothea had kept near her uncle, there would have been some +chance, said Sir James. She might have got some power over him in +time, and she was always uneasy about the estate. She had wonderfully +good notions about such things. But now Casaubon takes her up entirely. +Celia complains a good deal. We can hardly get her to dine with us, +since he had that fit. Sir James ended with a look of pitying disgust, +and Mrs. Cadwallader shrugged her shoulders as much as to say that +_she_ was not likely to see anything new in that direction. + +Poor Casaubon! the Rector said. That was a nasty attack. I thought +he looked shattered the other day at the Archdeacons. + +In point of fact, resumed Sir James, not choosing to dwell on fits, +Brooke doesnt mean badly by his tenants or any one else, but he has +got that way of paring and clipping at expenses. + +Come, thats a blessing, said Mrs. Cadwallader. That helps him to +find himself in a morning. He may not know his own opinions, but he +does know his own pocket. + +I dont believe a man is in pocket by stinginess on his land, said +Sir James. + +Oh, stinginess may be abused like other virtues: it will not do to +keep ones own pigs lean, said Mrs. Cadwallader, who had risen to look +out of the window. But talk of an independent politician and he will +appear. + +What! Brooke? said her husband. + +Yes. Now, you ply him with the Trumpet, Humphrey; and I will put the +leeches on him. What will you do, Sir James? + +The fact is, I dont like to begin about it with Brooke, in our mutual +position; the whole thing is so unpleasant. I do wish people would +behave like gentlemen, said the good baronet, feeling that this was a +simple and comprehensive programme for social well-being. + +Here you all are, eh? said Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and shaking +hands. I was going up to the Hall by-and-by, Chettam. But its +pleasant to find everybody, you know. Well, what do you think of +things?going on a little fast! It was true enough, what Lafitte +saidSince yesterday, a century has passed away:theyre in the next +century, you know, on the other side of the water. Going on faster than +we are. + +Why, yes, said the Rector, taking up the newspaper. Here is the +Trumpet accusing you of lagging behinddid you see? + +Eh? no, said Mr. Brooke, dropping his gloves into his hat and hastily +adjusting his eye-glass. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the paper in his +hand, saying, with a smile in his eyes + +Look here! all this is about a landlord not a hundred miles from +Middlemarch, who receives his own rents. They say he is the most +retrogressive man in the county. I think you must have taught them that +word in the Pioneer. + +Oh, that is Keckan illiterate fellow, you know. Retrogressive, now! +Come, thats capital. He thinks it means destructive: they want to make +me out a destructive, you know, said Mr. Brooke, with that +cheerfulness which is usually sustained by an adversarys ignorance. + +I think he knows the meaning of the word. Here is a sharp stroke or +two. _If we had to describe a man who is retrogressive in the most evil +sense of the wordwe should say, he is one who would dub himself a +reformer of our constitution, while every interest for which he is +immediately responsible is going to decay: a philanthropist who cannot +bear one rogue to be hanged, but does not mind five honest tenants +being half-starved: a man who shrieks at corruption, and keeps his +farms at rack-rent: who roars himself red at rotten boroughs, and does +not mind if every field on his farms has a rotten gate: a man very +open-hearted to Leeds and Manchester, no doubt; he would give any +number of representatives who will pay for their seats out of their own +pockets: what he objects to giving, is a little return on rent-days to +help a tenant to buy stock, or an outlay on repairs to keep the weather +out at a tenants barn-door or make his house look a little less like +an Irish cottiers. But we all know the wags definition of a +philanthropist: a man whose charity increases directly as the square of +the distance._ And so on. All the rest is to show what sort of +legislator a philanthropist is likely to make, ended the Rector, +throwing down the paper, and clasping his hands at the back of his +head, while he looked at Mr. Brooke with an air of amused neutrality. + +Come, thats rather good, you know, said Mr. Brooke, taking up the +paper and trying to bear the attack as easily as his neighbor did, but +coloring and smiling rather nervously; that about roaring himself red +at rotten boroughsI never made a speech about rotten boroughs in my +life. And as to roaring myself red and that kind of thingthese men +never understand what is good satire. Satire, you know, should be true +up to a certain point. I recollect they said that in The Edinburgh +somewhereit must be true up to a certain point. + +Well, that is really a hit about the gates, said Sir James, anxious +to tread carefully. Dagley complained to me the other day that he +hadnt got a decent gate on his farm. Garth has invented a new pattern +of gateI wish you would try it. One ought to use some of ones timber +in that way. + +You go in for fancy farming, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke, +appearing to glance over the columns of the Trumpet. Thats your +hobby, and you dont mind the expense. + +I thought the most expensive hobby in the world was standing for +Parliament, said Mrs. Cadwallader. They said the last unsuccessful +candidate at MiddlemarchGiles, wasnt his name?spent ten thousand +pounds and failed because he did not bribe enough. What a bitter +reflection for a man! + +Somebody was saying, said the Rector, laughingly, that East Retford +was nothing to Middlemarch, for bribery. + +Nothing of the kind, said Mr. Brooke. The Tories bribe, you know: +Hawley and his set bribe with treating, hot codlings, and that sort of +thing; and they bring the voters drunk to the poll. But they are not +going to have it their own way in futurenot in future, you know. +Middlemarch is a little backward, I admitthe freemen are a little +backward. But we shall educate themwe shall bring them on, you know. +The best people there are on our side. + +Hawley says you have men on your side who will do you harm, remarked +Sir James. He says Bulstrode the banker will do you harm. + +And that if you got pelted, interposed Mrs. Cadwallader, half the +rotten eggs would mean hatred of your committee-man. Good heavens! +Think what it must be to be pelted for wrong opinions. And I seem to +remember a story of a man they pretended to chair and let him fall into +a dust-heap on purpose! + +Pelting is nothing to their finding holes in ones coat, said the +Rector. I confess thats what I should be afraid of, if we parsons had +to stand at the hustings for preferment. I should be afraid of their +reckoning up all my fishing days. Upon my word, I think the truth is +the hardest missile one can be pelted with. + +The fact is, said Sir James, if a man goes into public life he must +be prepared for the consequences. He must make himself proof against +calumny. + +My dear Chettam, that is all very fine, you know, said Mr. Brooke. +But how will you make yourself proof against calumny? You should read +historylook at ostracism, persecution, martyrdom, and that kind of +thing. They always happen to the best men, you know. But what is that +in Horace?_fiat justitia, ruat_ something or other. + +Exactly, said Sir James, with a little more heat than usual. What I +mean by being proof against calumny is being able to point to the fact +as a contradiction. + +And it is not martyrdom to pay bills that one has run into ones +self, said Mrs. Cadwallader. + +But it was Sir Jamess evident annoyance that most stirred Mr. Brooke. +Well, you know, Chettam, he said, rising, taking up his hat and +leaning on his stick, you and I have a different system. You are all +for outlay with your farms. I dont want to make out that my system is +good under all circumstancesunder all circumstances, you know. + +There ought to be a new valuation made from time to time, said Sir +James. Returns are very well occasionally, but I like a fair +valuation. What do you say, Cadwallader? + +I agree with you. If I were Brooke, I would choke the Trumpet at +once by getting Garth to make a new valuation of the farms, and giving +him _carte blanche_ about gates and repairs: thats my view of the +political situation, said the Rector, broadening himself by sticking +his thumbs in his armholes, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke. + +Thats a showy sort of thing to do, you know, said Mr. Brooke. But I +should like you to tell me of another landlord who has distressed his +tenants for arrears as little as I have. I let the old tenants stay on. +Im uncommonly easy, let me tell you, uncommonly easy. I have my own +ideas, and I take my stand on them, you know. A man who does that is +always charged with eccentricity, inconsistency, and that kind of +thing. When I change my line of action, I shall follow my own ideas. + +After that, Mr. Brooke remembered that there was a packet which he had +omitted to send off from the Grange, and he bade everybody hurriedly +good-by. + +I didnt want to take a liberty with Brooke, said Sir James; I see +he is nettled. But as to what he says about old tenants, in point of +fact no new tenant would take the farms on the present terms. + +I have a notion that he will be brought round in time, said the +Rector. But you were pulling one way, Elinor, and we were pulling +another. You wanted to frighten him away from expense, and we want to +frighten him into it. Better let him try to be popular and see that his +character as a landlord stands in his way. I dont think it signifies +two straws about the Pioneer, or Ladislaw, or Brookes speechifying +to the Middlemarchers. But it does signify about the parishioners in +Tipton being comfortable. + +Excuse me, it is you two who are on the wrong tack, said Mrs. +Cadwallader. You should have proved to him that he loses money by bad +management, and then we should all have pulled together. If you put him +a-horseback on politics, I warn you of the consequences. It was all +very well to ride on sticks at home and call them ideas. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +If, as I have, you also doe, + Vertue attired in woman see, +And dare love that, and say so too, + And forget the He and She; + +And if this love, though placed so, + From prophane men you hide, +Which will no faith on this bestow, + Or, if they doe, deride: + +Then you have done a braver thing + Than all the Worthies did, +And a braver thence will spring, + Which is, to keep that hid. +DR. DONNE. + + +Sir James Chettams mind was not fruitful in devices, but his growing +anxiety to act on Brooke, once brought close to his constant belief +in Dorotheas capacity for influence, became formative, and issued in a +little plan; namely, to plead Celias indisposition as a reason for +fetching Dorothea by herself to the Hall, and to leave her at the +Grange with the carriage on the way, after making her fully aware of +the situation concerning the management of the estate. + +In this way it happened that one day near four oclock, when Mr. Brooke +and Ladislaw were seated in the library, the door opened and Mrs. +Casaubon was announced. + +Will, the moment before, had been low in the depths of boredom, and, +obliged to help Mr. Brooke in arranging documents about hanging +sheep-stealers, was exemplifying the power our minds have of riding +several horses at once by inwardly arranging measures towards getting a +lodging for himself in Middlemarch and cutting short his constant +residence at the Grange; while there flitted through all these steadier +images a tickling vision of a sheep-stealing epic written with Homeric +particularity. When Mrs. Casaubon was announced he started up as from +an electric shock, and felt a tingling at his finger-ends. Any one +observing him would have seen a change in his complexion, in the +adjustment of his facial muscles, in the vividness of his glance, which +might have made them imagine that every molecule in his body had passed +the message of a magic touch. And so it had. For effective magic is +transcendent nature; and who shall measure the subtlety of those +touches which convey the quality of soul as well as body, and make a +mans passion for one woman differ from his passion for another as joy +in the morning light over valley and river and white mountain-top +differs from joy among Chinese lanterns and glass panels? Will, too, +was made of very impressible stuff. The bow of a violin drawn near him +cleverly, would at one stroke change the aspect of the world for him, +and his point of view shifted as easily as his mood. Dorotheas +entrance was the freshness of morning. + +Well, my dear, this is pleasant, now, said Mr. Brooke, meeting and +kissing her. You have left Casaubon with his books, I suppose. Thats +right. We must not have you getting too learned for a woman, you know. + +There is no fear of that, uncle, said Dorothea, turning to Will and +shaking hands with open cheerfulness, while she made no other form of +greeting, but went on answering her uncle. I am very slow. When I want +to be busy with books, I am often playing truant among my thoughts. I +find it is not so easy to be learned as to plan cottages. + +She seated herself beside her uncle opposite to Will, and was evidently +preoccupied with something that made her almost unmindful of him. He +was ridiculously disappointed, as if he had imagined that her coming +had anything to do with him. + +Why, yes, my dear, it was quite your hobby to draw plans. But it was +good to break that off a little. Hobbies are apt to run away with us, +you know; it doesnt do to be run away with. We must keep the reins. I +have never let myself be run away with; I always pulled up. That is +what I tell Ladislaw. He and I are alike, you know: he likes to go into +everything. We are working at capital punishment. We shall do a great +deal together, Ladislaw and I. + +Yes, said Dorothea, with characteristic directness, Sir James has +been telling me that he is in hope of seeing a great change made soon +in your management of the estatethat you are thinking of having the +farms valued, and repairs made, and the cottages improved, so that +Tipton may look quite another place. Oh, how happy!she went on, +clasping her hands, with a return to that more childlike impetuous +manner, which had been subdued since her marriage. If I were at home +still, I should take to riding again, that I might go about with you +and see all that! And you are going to engage Mr. Garth, who praised my +cottages, Sir James says. + +Chettam is a little hasty, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, coloring +slightly; a little hasty, you know. I never said I should do anything +of the kind. I never said I should _not_ do it, you know. + +He only feels confident that you will do it, said Dorothea, in a +voice as clear and unhesitating as that of a young chorister chanting a +credo, because you mean to enter Parliament as a member who cares for +the improvement of the people, and one of the first things to be made +better is the state of the land and the laborers. Think of Kit Downes, +uncle, who lives with his wife and seven children in a house with one +sitting room and one bedroom hardly larger than this table!and those +poor Dagleys, in their tumble-down farmhouse, where they live in the +back kitchen and leave the other rooms to the rats! That is one reason +why I did not like the pictures here, dear unclewhich you think me +stupid about. I used to come from the village with all that dirt and +coarse ugliness like a pain within me, and the simpering pictures in +the drawing-room seemed to me like a wicked attempt to find delight in +what is false, while we dont mind how hard the truth is for the +neighbors outside our walls. I think we have no right to come forward +and urge wider changes for good, until we have tried to alter the evils +which lie under our own hands. + +Dorothea had gathered emotion as she went on, and had forgotten +everything except the relief of pouring forth her feelings, unchecked: +an experience once habitual with her, but hardly ever present since her +marriage, which had been a perpetual struggle of energy with fear. For +the moment, Wills admiration was accompanied with a chilling sense of +remoteness. A man is seldom ashamed of feeling that he cannot love a +woman so well when he sees a certain greatness in her: nature having +intended greatness for men. But nature has sometimes made sad +oversights in carrying out her intention; as in the case of good Mr. +Brooke, whose masculine consciousness was at this moment in rather a +stammering condition under the eloquence of his niece. He could not +immediately find any other mode of expressing himself than that of +rising, fixing his eye-glass, and fingering the papers before him. At +last he said + +There is something in what you say, my dear, something in what you +saybut not everythingeh, Ladislaw? You and I dont like our pictures +and statues being found fault with. Young ladies are a little ardent, +you knowa little one-sided, my dear. Fine art, poetry, that kind of +thing, elevates a nation_emollit mores_you understand a little Latin +now. Buteh? what? + +These interrogatives were addressed to the footman who had come in to +say that the keeper had found one of Dagleys boys with a leveret in +his hand just killed. + +Ill come, Ill come. I shall let him off easily, you know, said Mr. +Brooke aside to Dorothea, shuffling away very cheerfully. + +I hope you feel how right this change is that Ithat Sir James wishes +for, said Dorothea to Will, as soon as her uncle was gone. + +I do, now I have heard you speak about it. I shall not forget what you +have said. But can you think of something else at this moment? I may +not have another opportunity of speaking to you about what has +occurred, said Will, rising with a movement of impatience, and holding +the back of his chair with both hands. + +Pray tell me what it is, said Dorothea, anxiously, also rising and +going to the open window, where Monk was looking in, panting and +wagging his tail. She leaned her back against the window-frame, and +laid her hand on the dogs head; for though, as we know, she was not +fond of pets that must be held in the hands or trodden on, she was +always attentive to the feelings of dogs, and very polite if she had to +decline their advances. + +Will followed her only with his eyes and said, I presume you know that +Mr. Casaubon has forbidden me to go to his house. + +No, I did not, said Dorothea, after a moments pause. She was +evidently much moved. I am very, very sorry, she added, mournfully. +She was thinking of what Will had no knowledge ofthe conversation +between her and her husband in the darkness; and she was anew smitten +with hopelessness that she could influence Mr. Casaubons action. But +the marked expression of her sorrow convinced Will that it was not all +given to him personally, and that Dorothea had not been visited by the +idea that Mr. Casaubons dislike and jealousy of him turned upon +herself. He felt an odd mixture of delight and vexation: of delight +that he could dwell and be cherished in her thought as in a pure home, +without suspicion and without stintof vexation because he was of too +little account with her, was not formidable enough, was treated with an +unhesitating benevolence which did not flatter him. But his dread of +any change in Dorothea was stronger than his discontent, and he began +to speak again in a tone of mere explanation. + +Mr. Casaubons reason is, his displeasure at my taking a position here +which he considers unsuited to my rank as his cousin. I have told him +that I cannot give way on this point. It is a little too hard on me to +expect that my course in life is to be hampered by prejudices which I +think ridiculous. Obligation may be stretched till it is no better than +a brand of slavery stamped on us when we were too young to know its +meaning. I would not have accepted the position if I had not meant to +make it useful and honorable. I am not bound to regard family dignity +in any other light. + +Dorothea felt wretched. She thought her husband altogether in the +wrong, on more grounds than Will had mentioned. + +It is better for us not to speak on the subject, she said, with a +tremulousness not common in her voice, since you and Mr. Casaubon +disagree. You intend to remain? She was looking out on the lawn, with +melancholy meditation. + +Yes; but I shall hardly ever see you now, said Will, in a tone of +almost boyish complaint. + +No, said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, hardly ever. But +I shall hear of you. I shall know what you are doing for my uncle. + +I shall know hardly anything about you, said Will. No one will tell +me anything. + +Oh, my life is very simple, said Dorothea, her lips curling with an +exquisite smile, which irradiated her melancholy. I am always at +Lowick. + +That is a dreadful imprisonment, said Will, impetuously. + +No, dont think that, said Dorothea. I have no longings. + +He did not speak, but she replied to some change in his expression. I +mean, for myself. Except that I should like not to have so much more +than my share without doing anything for others. But I have a belief of +my own, and it comforts me. + +What is that? said Will, rather jealous of the belief. + +That by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we dont quite know +what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power +against evilwidening the skirts of light and making the struggle with +darkness narrower. + +That is a beautiful mysticismit is a + +Please not to call it by any name, said Dorothea, putting out her +hands entreatingly. You will say it is Persian, or something else +geographical. It is my life. I have found it out, and cannot part with +it. I have always been finding out my religion since I was a little +girl. I used to pray so muchnow I hardly ever pray. I try not to have +desires merely for myself, because they may not be good for others, and +I have too much already. I only told you, that you might know quite +well how my days go at Lowick. + +God bless you for telling me! said Will, ardently, and rather +wondering at himself. They were looking at each other like two fond +children who were talking confidentially of birds. + +What is _your_ religion? said Dorothea. I meannot what you know +about religion, but the belief that helps you most? + +To love what is good and beautiful when I see it, said Will. But I +am a rebel: I dont feel bound, as you do, to submit to what I dont +like. + +But if you like what is good, that comes to the same thing, said +Dorothea, smiling. + +Now you are subtle, said Will. + +Yes; Mr. Casaubon often says I am too subtle. I dont feel as if I +were subtle, said Dorothea, playfully. But how long my uncle is! I +must go and look for him. I must really go on to the Hall. Celia is +expecting me. + +Will offered to tell Mr. Brooke, who presently came and said that he +would step into the carriage and go with Dorothea as far as Dagleys, +to speak about the small delinquent who had been caught with the +leveret. Dorothea renewed the subject of the estate as they drove +along, but Mr. Brooke, not being taken unawares, got the talk under his +own control. + +Chettam, now, he replied; he finds fault with me, my dear; but I +should not preserve my game if it were not for Chettam, and he cant +say that that expense is for the sake of the tenants, you know. Its a +little against my feeling:poaching, now, if you come to look into itI +have often thought of getting up the subject. Not long ago, Flavell, +the Methodist preacher, was brought up for knocking down a hare that +came across his path when he and his wife were walking out together. He +was pretty quick, and knocked it on the neck. + +That was very brutal, I think, said Dorothea. + +Well, now, it seemed rather black to me, I confess, in a Methodist +preacher, you know. And Johnson said, You may judge what a hypo_crite_ +he is. And upon my word, I thought Flavell looked very little like +the highest style of manas somebody calls the ChristianYoung, the +poet Young, I thinkyou know Young? Well, now, Flavell in his shabby +black gaiters, pleading that he thought the Lord had sent him and his +wife a good dinner, and he had a right to knock it down, though not a +mighty hunter before the Lord, as Nimrod wasI assure you it was rather +comic: Fielding would have made something of itor Scott, nowScott +might have worked it up. But really, when I came to think of it, I +couldnt help liking that the fellow should have a bit of hare to say +grace over. Its all a matter of prejudiceprejudice with the law on +its side, you knowabout the stick and the gaiters, and so on. However, +it doesnt do to reason about things; and law is law. But I got Johnson +to be quiet, and I hushed the matter up. I doubt whether Chettam would +not have been more severe, and yet he comes down on me as if I were the +hardest man in the county. But here we are at Dagleys. + +Mr. Brooke got down at a farmyard-gate, and Dorothea drove on. It is +wonderful how much uglier things will look when we only suspect that we +are blamed for them. Even our own persons in the glass are apt to +change their aspect for us after we have heard some frank remark on +their less admirable points; and on the other hand it is astonishing +how pleasantly conscience takes our encroachments on those who never +complain or have nobody to complain for them. Dagleys homestead never +before looked so dismal to Mr. Brooke as it did today, with his mind +thus sore about the fault-finding of the Trumpet, echoed by Sir +James. + +It is true that an observer, under that softening influence of the fine +arts which makes other peoples hardships picturesque, might have been +delighted with this homestead called Freemans End: the old house had +dormer-windows in the dark red roof, two of the chimneys were choked +with ivy, the large porch was blocked up with bundles of sticks, and +half the windows were closed with gray worm-eaten shutters about which +the jasmine-boughs grew in wild luxuriance; the mouldering garden wall +with hollyhocks peeping over it was a perfect study of highly mingled +subdued color, and there was an aged goat (kept doubtless on +interesting superstitious grounds) lying against the open back-kitchen +door. The mossy thatch of the cow-shed, the broken gray barn-doors, the +pauper laborers in ragged breeches who had nearly finished unloading a +wagon of corn into the barn ready for early thrashing; the scanty dairy +of cows being tethered for milking and leaving one half of the shed in +brown emptiness; the very pigs and white ducks seeming to wander about +the uneven neglected yard as if in low spirits from feeding on a too +meagre quality of rinsings,all these objects under the quiet light of +a sky marbled with high clouds would have made a sort of picture which +we have all paused over as a charming bit, touching other +sensibilities than those which are stirred by the depression of the +agricultural interest, with the sad lack of farming capital, as seen +constantly in the newspapers of that time. But these troublesome +associations were just now strongly present to Mr. Brooke, and spoiled +the scene for him. Mr. Dagley himself made a figure in the landscape, +carrying a pitchfork and wearing his milking-hata very old beaver +flattened in front. His coat and breeches were the best he had, and he +would not have been wearing them on this weekday occasion if he had not +been to market and returned later than usual, having given himself the +rare treat of dining at the public table of the Blue Bull. How he came +to fall into this extravagance would perhaps be matter of wonderment to +himself on the morrow; but before dinner something in the state of the +country, a slight pause in the harvest before the Far Dips were cut, +the stories about the new King and the numerous handbills on the walls, +had seemed to warrant a little recklessness. It was a maxim about +Middlemarch, and regarded as self-evident, that good meat should have +good drink, which last Dagley interpreted as plenty of table ale well +followed up by rum-and-water. These liquors have so far truth in them +that they were not false enough to make poor Dagley seem merry: they +only made his discontent less tongue-tied than usual. He had also taken +too much in the shape of muddy political talk, a stimulant dangerously +disturbing to his farming conservatism, which consisted in holding that +whatever is, is bad, and any change is likely to be worse. He was +flushed, and his eyes had a decidedly quarrelsome stare as he stood +still grasping his pitchfork, while the landlord approached with his +easy shuffling walk, one hand in his trouser-pocket and the other +swinging round a thin walking-stick. + +Dagley, my good fellow, began Mr. Brooke, conscious that he was going +to be very friendly about the boy. + +Oh, ay, Im a good feller, am I? Thank ye, sir, thank ye, said +Dagley, with a loud snarling irony which made Fag the sheep-dog stir +from his seat and prick his ears; but seeing Monk enter the yard after +some outside loitering, Fag seated himself again in an attitude of +observation. Im glad to hear Im a good feller. + +Mr. Brooke reflected that it was market-day, and that his worthy tenant +had probably been dining, but saw no reason why he should not go on, +since he could take the precaution of repeating what he had to say to +Mrs. Dagley. + +Your little lad Jacob has been caught killing a leveret, Dagley: I +have told Johnson to lock him up in the empty stable an hour or two, +just to frighten him, you know. But he will be brought home by-and-by, +before night: and youll just look after him, will you, and give him a +reprimand, you know? + +No, I woont: Ill be deed if Ill leather my boy to please you or +anybody else, not if you was twenty landlords istid o one, and that a +bad un. + +Dagleys words were loud enough to summon his wife to the back-kitchen +doorthe only entrance ever used, and one always open except in bad +weatherand Mr. Brooke, saying soothingly, Well, well, Ill speak to +your wifeI didnt mean beating, you know, turned to walk to the +house. But Dagley, only the more inclined to have his say with a +gentleman who walked away from him, followed at once, with Fag +slouching at his heels and sullenly evading some small and probably +charitable advances on the part of Monk. + +How do you do, Mrs. Dagley? said Mr. Brooke, making some haste. I +came to tell you about your boy: I dont want you to give him the +stick, you know. He was careful to speak quite plainly this time. + +Overworked Mrs. Dagleya thin, worn woman, from whose life pleasure had +so entirely vanished that she had not even any Sunday clothes which +could give her satisfaction in preparing for churchhad already had a +misunderstanding with her husband since he had come home, and was in +low spirits, expecting the worst. But her husband was beforehand in +answering. + +No, nor he woont hev the stick, whether you want it or no, pursued +Dagley, throwing out his voice, as if he wanted it to hit hard. Youve +got no call to come an talk about sticks o these primises, as you +woont give a stick towrt mending. Go to Middlemarch to ax for _your_ +charrickter. + +Youd far better hold your tongue, Dagley, said the wife, and not +kick your own trough over. When a man as is father of a family has been +an spent money at market and made himself the worse for liquor, hes +done enough mischief for one day. But I should like to know what my +boys done, sir. + +Niver do you mind what hes done, said Dagley, more fiercely, its +my business to speak, an not yourn. An I wull speak, too. Ill hev my +saysupper or no. An what I say is, as Ive lived upo your ground +from my father and grandfather afore me, an hev dropped our money +intot, an me an my children might lie an rot on the ground for +top-dressin as we cant find the money to buy, if the King wasnt to +put a stop. + +My good fellow, youre drunk, you know, said Mr. Brooke, +confidentially but not judiciously. Another day, another day, he +added, turning as if to go. + +But Dagley immediately fronted him, and Fag at his heels growled low, +as his masters voice grew louder and more insulting, while Monk also +drew close in silent dignified watch. The laborers on the wagon were +pausing to listen, and it seemed wiser to be quite passive than to +attempt a ridiculous flight pursued by a bawling man. + +Im no more drunk nor you are, nor so much, said Dagley. I can carry +my liquor, an I know what I meean. An I meean as the King ull put a +stop to t, for them say it as knows it, as theres to be a Rinform, +and them landlords as never done the right thing by their tenants ull +be treated i that way as theyll hev to scuttle off. An theres them +i Middlemarch knows what the Rinform isan as knows wholl hev to +scuttle. Says they, I know who _your_ landlord is. An says I, I +hope youre the better for knowin him, I arnt. Says they, Hes a +close-fisted un. Ay ay, says I. Hes a man for the Rinform, says +they. Thats what they says. An I made out what the Rinform werean +it were to send you an your likes a-scuttlin an wi pretty +strong-smellin things too. An you may do as you like now, for Im +none afeard on you. An youd better let my boy aloan, an look to +yoursen, afore the Rinform has got upo your back. Thats what In got +to say, concluded Mr. Dagley, striking his fork into the ground with a +firmness which proved inconvenient as he tried to draw it up again. + +At this last action Monk began to bark loudly, and it was a moment for +Mr. Brooke to escape. He walked out of the yard as quickly as he could, +in some amazement at the novelty of his situation. He had never been +insulted on his own land before, and had been inclined to regard +himself as a general favorite (we are all apt to do so, when we think +of our own amiability more than of what other people are likely to want +of us). When he had quarrelled with Caleb Garth twelve years before he +had thought that the tenants would be pleased at the landlords taking +everything into his own hands. + +Some who follow the narrative of his experience may wonder at the +midnight darkness of Mr. Dagley; but nothing was easier in those times +than for an hereditary farmer of his grade to be ignorant, in spite +somehow of having a rector in the twin parish who was a gentleman to +the backbone, a curate nearer at hand who preached more learnedly than +the rector, a landlord who had gone into everything, especially fine +art and social improvement, and all the lights of Middlemarch only +three miles off. As to the facility with which mortals escape +knowledge, try an average acquaintance in the intellectual blaze of +London, and consider what that eligible person for a dinner-party would +have been if he had learned scant skill in summing from the +parish-clerk of Tipton, and read a chapter in the Bible with immense +difficulty, because such names as Isaiah or Apollos remained +unmanageable after twice spelling. Poor Dagley read a few verses +sometimes on a Sunday evening, and the world was at least not darker to +him than it had been before. Some things he knew thoroughly, namely, +the slovenly habits of farming, and the awkwardness of weather, stock +and crops, at Freemans Endso called apparently by way of sarcasm, to +imply that a man was free to quit it if he chose, but that there was no +earthly beyond open to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +Wise in his daily work was he: + To fruits of diligence, +And not to faiths or polity, + He plied his utmost sense. +These perfect in their little parts, + Whose work is all their prize +Without them how could laws, or arts, + Or towered cities rise? + + +In watching effects, if only of an electric battery, it is often +necessary to change our place and examine a particular mixture or group +at some distance from the point where the movement we are interested in +was set up. The group I am moving towards is at Caleb Garths +breakfast-table in the large parlor where the maps and desk were: +father, mother, and five of the children. Mary was just now at home +waiting for a situation, while Christy, the boy next to her, was +getting cheap learning and cheap fare in Scotland, having to his +fathers disappointment taken to books instead of that sacred calling +business. + +The letters had comenine costly letters, for which the postman had +been paid three and twopence, and Mr. Garth was forgetting his tea and +toast while he read his letters and laid them open one above the other, +sometimes swaying his head slowly, sometimes screwing up his mouth in +inward debate, but not forgetting to cut off a large red seal unbroken, +which Letty snatched up like an eager terrier. + +The talk among the rest went on unrestrainedly, for nothing disturbed +Calebs absorption except shaking the table when he was writing. + +Two letters of the nine had been for Mary. After reading them, she had +passed them to her mother, and sat playing with her tea-spoon absently, +till with a sudden recollection she returned to her sewing, which she +had kept on her lap during breakfast. + +Oh, dont sew, Mary! said Ben, pulling her arm down. Make me a +peacock with this bread-crumb. He had been kneading a small mass for +the purpose. + +No, no, Mischief! said Mary, good-humoredly, while she pricked his +hand lightly with her needle. Try and mould it yourself: you have seen +me do it often enough. I must get this sewing done. It is for Rosamond +Vincy: she is to be married next week, and she cant be married without +this handkerchief. Mary ended merrily, amused with the last notion. + +Why cant she, Mary? said Letty, seriously interested in this +mystery, and pushing her head so close to her sister that Mary now +turned the threatening needle towards Lettys nose. + +Because this is one of a dozen, and without it there would only be +eleven, said Mary, with a grave air of explanation, so that Letty sank +back with a sense of knowledge. + +Have you made up your mind, my dear? said Mrs. Garth, laying the +letters down. + +I shall go to the school at York, said Mary. I am less unfit to +teach in a school than in a family. I like to teach classes best. And, +you see, I must teach: there is nothing else to be done. + +Teaching seems to me the most delightful work in the world, said Mrs. +Garth, with a touch of rebuke in her tone. I could understand your +objection to it if you had not knowledge enough, Mary, or if you +disliked children. + +I suppose we never quite understand why another dislikes what we like, +mother, said Mary, rather curtly. I am not fond of a schoolroom: I +like the outside world better. It is a very inconvenient fault of +mine. + +It must be very stupid to be always in a girls school, said Alfred. +Such a set of nincompoops, like Mrs. Ballards pupils walking two and +two. + +And they have no games worth playing at, said Jim. They can neither +throw nor leap. I dont wonder at Marys not liking it. + +What is that Mary doesnt like, eh? said the father, looking over his +spectacles and pausing before he opened his next letter. + +Being among a lot of nincompoop girls, said Alfred. + +Is it the situation you had heard of, Mary? said Caleb, gently, +looking at his daughter. + +Yes, father: the school at York. I have determined to take it. It is +quite the best. Thirty-five pounds a-year, and extra pay for teaching +the smallest strummers at the piano. + +Poor child! I wish she could stay at home with us, Susan, said Caleb, +looking plaintively at his wife. + +Mary would not be happy without doing her duty, said Mrs. Garth, +magisterially, conscious of having done her own. + +It wouldnt make me happy to do such a nasty duty as that, said +Alfredat which Mary and her father laughed silently, but Mrs. Garth +said, gravely + +Do find a fitter word than nasty, my dear Alfred, for everything that +you think disagreeable. And suppose that Mary could help you to go to +Mr. Hanmers with the money she gets? + +That seems to me a great shame. But shes an old brick, said Alfred, +rising from his chair, and pulling Marys head backward to kiss her. + +Mary colored and laughed, but could not conceal that the tears were +coming. Caleb, looking on over his spectacles, with the angles of his +eyebrows falling, had an expression of mingled delight and sorrow as he +returned to the opening of his letter; and even Mrs. Garth, her lips +curling with a calm contentment, allowed that inappropriate language to +pass without correction, although Ben immediately took it up, and sang, +Shes an old brick, old brick, old brick! to a cantering measure, +which he beat out with his fist on Marys arm. + +But Mrs. Garths eyes were now drawn towards her husband, who was +already deep in the letter he was reading. His face had an expression +of grave surprise, which alarmed her a little, but he did not like to +be questioned while he was reading, and she remained anxiously watching +till she saw him suddenly shaken by a little joyous laugh as he turned +back to the beginning of the letter, and looking at her above his +spectacles, said, in a low tone, What do you think, Susan? + +She went and stood behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder, while +they read the letter together. It was from Sir James Chettam, offering +to Mr. Garth the management of the family estates at Freshitt and +elsewhere, and adding that Sir James had been requested by Mr. Brooke +of Tipton to ascertain whether Mr. Garth would be disposed at the same +time to resume the agency of the Tipton property. The Baronet added in +very obliging words that he himself was particularly desirous of seeing +the Freshitt and Tipton estates under the same management, and he hoped +to be able to show that the double agency might be held on terms +agreeable to Mr. Garth, whom he would be glad to see at the Hall at +twelve oclock on the following day. + +He writes handsomely, doesnt he, Susan? said Caleb, turning his eyes +upward to his wife, who raised her hand from his shoulder to his ear, +while she rested her chin on his head. Brooke didnt like to ask me +himself, I can see, he continued, laughing silently. + +Here is an honor to your father, children, said Mrs. Garth, looking +round at the five pair of eyes, all fixed on the parents. He is asked +to take a post again by those who dismissed him long ago. That shows +that he did his work well, so that they feel the want of him. + +Like Cincinnatushooray! said Ben, riding on his chair, with a +pleasant confidence that discipline was relaxed. + +Will they come to fetch him, mother? said Letty, thinking of the +Mayor and Corporation in their robes. + +Mrs. Garth patted Lettys head and smiled, but seeing that her husband +was gathering up his letters and likely soon to be out of reach in that +sanctuary business, she pressed his shoulder and said emphatically + +Now, mind you ask fair pay, Caleb. + +Oh yes, said Caleb, in a deep voice of assent, as if it would be +unreasonable to suppose anything else of him. Itll come to between +four and five hundred, the two together. Then with a little start of +remembrance he said, Mary, write and give up that school. Stay and +help your mother. Im as pleased as Punch, now Ive thought of that. + +No manner could have been less like that of Punch triumphant than +Calebs, but his talents did not lie in finding phrases, though he was +very particular about his letter-writing, and regarded his wife as a +treasury of correct language. + +There was almost an uproar among the children now, and Mary held up the +cambric embroidery towards her mother entreatingly, that it might be +put out of reach while the boys dragged her into a dance. Mrs. Garth, +in placid joy, began to put the cups and plates together, while Caleb +pushing his chair from the table, as if he were going to move to the +desk, still sat holding his letters in his hand and looking on the +ground meditatively, stretching out the fingers of his left hand, +according to a mute language of his own. At last he said + +Its a thousand pities Christy didnt take to business, Susan. I shall +want help by-and-by. And Alfred must go off to the engineeringIve +made up my mind to that. He fell into meditation and finger-rhetoric +again for a little while, and then continued: I shall make Brooke have +new agreements with the tenants, and I shall draw up a rotation of +crops. And Ill lay a wager we can get fine bricks out of the clay at +Botts corner. I must look into that: it would cheapen the repairs. +Its a fine bit of work, Susan! A man without a family would be glad to +do it for nothing. + +Mind you dont, though, said his wife, lifting up her finger. + +No, no; but its a fine thing to come to a man when hes seen into the +nature of business: to have the chance of getting a bit of the country +into good fettle, as they say, and putting men into the right way with +their farming, and getting a bit of good contriving and solid building +donethat those who are living and those who come after will be the +better for. Id sooner have it than a fortune. I hold it the most +honorable work that is. Here Caleb laid down his letters, thrust his +fingers between the buttons of his waistcoat, and sat upright, but +presently proceeded with some awe in his voice and moving his head +slowly asideIts a great gift of God, Susan. + +That it is, Caleb, said his wife, with answering fervor. And it will +be a blessing to your children to have had a father who did such work: +a father whose good work remains though his name may be forgotten. She +could not say any more to him then about the pay. + +In the evening, when Caleb, rather tired with his days work, was +seated in silence with his pocket-book open on his knee, while Mrs. +Garth and Mary were at their sewing, and Letty in a corner was +whispering a dialogue with her doll, Mr. Farebrother came up the +orchard walk, dividing the bright August lights and shadows with the +tufted grass and the apple-tree boughs. We know that he was fond of his +parishioners the Garths, and had thought Mary worth mentioning to +Lydgate. He used to the full the clergymans privilege of disregarding +the Middlemarch discrimination of ranks, and always told his mother +that Mrs. Garth was more of a lady than any matron in the town. Still, +you see, he spent his evenings at the Vincys, where the matron, though +less of a lady, presided over a well-lit drawing-room and whist. In +those days human intercourse was not determined solely by respect. But +the Vicar did heartily respect the Garths, and a visit from him was no +surprise to that family. Nevertheless he accounted for it even while he +was shaking hands, by saying, I come as an envoy, Mrs. Garth: I have +something to say to you and Garth on behalf of Fred Vincy. The fact is, +poor fellow, he continued, as he seated himself and looked round with +his bright glance at the three who were listening to him, he has taken +me into his confidence. + +Marys heart beat rather quickly: she wondered how far Freds +confidence had gone. + +We havent seen the lad for months, said Caleb. I couldnt think +what was become of him. + +He has been away on a visit, said the Vicar, because home was a +little too hot for him, and Lydgate told his mother that the poor +fellow must not begin to study yet. But yesterday he came and poured +himself out to me. I am very glad he did, because I have seen him grow +up from a youngster of fourteen, and I am so much at home in the house +that the children are like nephews and nieces to me. But it is a +difficult case to advise upon. However, he has asked me to come and +tell you that he is going away, and that he is so miserable about his +debt to you, and his inability to pay, that he cant bear to come +himself even to bid you good by. + +Tell him it doesnt signify a farthing, said Caleb, waving his hand. +Weve had the pinch and have got over it. And now Im going to be as +rich as a Jew. + +Which means, said Mrs. Garth, smiling at the Vicar, that we are +going to have enough to bring up the boys well and to keep Mary at +home. + +What is the treasure-trove? said Mr. Farebrother. + +Im going to be agent for two estates, Freshitt and Tipton; and +perhaps for a pretty little bit of land in Lowick besides: its all the +same family connection, and employment spreads like water if its once +set going. It makes me very happy, Mr. Farebrotherhere Caleb threw +back his head a little, and spread his arms on the elbows of his +chairthat Ive got an opportunity again with the letting of the land, +and carrying out a notion or two with improvements. Its a most +uncommonly cramping thing, as Ive often told Susan, to sit on +horseback and look over the hedges at the wrong thing, and not be able +to put your hand to it to make it right. What people do who go into +politics I cant think: it drives me almost mad to see mismanagement +over only a few hundred acres. + +It was seldom that Caleb volunteered so long a speech, but his +happiness had the effect of mountain air: his eyes were bright, and the +words came without effort. + +I congratulate you heartily, Garth, said the Vicar. This is the best +sort of news I could have had to carry to Fred Vincy, for he dwelt a +good deal on the injury he had done you in causing you to part with +moneyrobbing you of it, he saidwhich you wanted for other purposes. I +wish Fred were not such an idle dog; he has some very good points, and +his father is a little hard upon him. + +Where is he going? said Mrs. Garth, rather coldly. + +He means to try again for his degree, and he is going up to study +before term. I have advised him to do that. I dont urge him to enter +the Churchon the contrary. But if he will go and work so as to pass, +that will be some guarantee that he has energy and a will; and he is +quite at sea; he doesnt know what else to do. So far he will please +his father, and I have promised in the mean time to try and reconcile +Vincy to his sons adopting some other line of life. Fred says frankly +he is not fit for a clergyman, and I would do anything I could to +hinder a man from the fatal step of choosing the wrong profession. He +quoted to me what you said, Miss Garthdo you remember it? (Mr. +Farebrother used to say Mary instead of Miss Garth, but it was part +of his delicacy to treat her with the more deference because, according +to Mrs. Vincys phrase, she worked for her bread.) + +Mary felt uncomfortable, but, determined to take the matter lightly, +answered at once, I have said so many impertinent things to Fredwe +are such old playfellows. + +You said, according to him, that he would be one of those ridiculous +clergymen who help to make the whole clergy ridiculous. Really, that +was so cutting that I felt a little cut myself. + +Caleb laughed. She gets her tongue from you, Susan, he said, with +some enjoyment. + +Not its flippancy, father, said Mary, quickly, fearing that her +mother would be displeased. It is rather too bad of Fred to repeat my +flippant speeches to Mr. Farebrother. + +It was certainly a hasty speech, my dear, said Mrs. Garth, with whom +speaking evil of dignities was a high misdemeanor. We should not value +our Vicar the less because there was a ridiculous curate in the next +parish. + +Theres something in what she says, though, said Caleb, not disposed +to have Marys sharpness undervalued. A bad workman of any sort makes +his fellows mistrusted. Things hang together, he added, looking on the +floor and moving his feet uneasily with a sense that words were +scantier than thoughts. + +Clearly, said the Vicar, amused. By being contemptible we set mens +minds to the tune of contempt. I certainly agree with Miss Garths view +of the matter, whether I am condemned by it or not. But as to Fred +Vincy, it is only fair he should be excused a little: old +Featherstones delusive behavior did help to spoil him. There was +something quite diabolical in not leaving him a farthing after all. But +Fred has the good taste not to dwell on that. And what he cares most +about is having offended you, Mrs. Garth; he supposes you will never +think well of him again. + +I have been disappointed in Fred, said Mrs. Garth, with decision. +But I shall be ready to think well of him again when he gives me good +reason to do so. + +At this point Mary went out of the room, taking Letty with her. + +Oh, we must forgive young people when theyre sorry, said Caleb, +watching Mary close the door. And as you say, Mr. Farebrother, there +was the very devil in that old man. Now Marys gone out, I must tell +you a thingits only known to Susan and me, and youll not tell it +again. The old scoundrel wanted Mary to burn one of the wills the very +night he died, when she was sitting up with him by herself, and he +offered her a sum of money that he had in the box by him if she would +do it. But Mary, you understand, could do no such thingwould not be +handling his iron chest, and so on. Now, you see, the will he wanted +burnt was this last, so that if Mary had done what he wanted, Fred +Vincy would have had ten thousand pounds. The old man did turn to him +at the last. That touches poor Mary close; she couldnt help itshe was +in the right to do what she did, but she feels, as she says, much as if +she had knocked down somebodys property and broken it against her +will, when she was rightfully defending herself. I feel with her, +somehow, and if I could make any amends to the poor lad, instead of +bearing him a grudge for the harm he did us, I should be glad to do it. +Now, what is your opinion, sir? Susan doesnt agree with me; she +saystell what you say, Susan. + +Mary could not have acted otherwise, even if she had known what would +be the effect on Fred, said Mrs. Garth, pausing from her work, and +looking at Mr. Farebrother. + +And she was quite ignorant of it. It seems to me, a loss which falls +on another because we have done right is not to lie upon our +conscience. + +The Vicar did not answer immediately, and Caleb said, Its the +feeling. The child feels in that way, and I feel with her. You dont +mean your horse to tread on a dog when youre backing out of the way; +but it goes through you, when its done. + +I am sure Mrs. Garth would agree with you there, said Mr. +Farebrother, who for some reason seemed more inclined to ruminate than +to speak. One could hardly say that the feeling you mention about Fred +is wrongor rather, mistakenthough no man ought to make a claim on +such feeling. + +Well, well, said Caleb, its a secret. You will not tell Fred. + +Certainly not. But I shall carry the other good newsthat you can +afford the loss he caused you. + +Mr. Farebrother left the house soon after, and seeing Mary in the +orchard with Letty, went to say good-by to her. They made a pretty +picture in the western light which brought out the brightness of the +apples on the old scant-leaved boughsMary in her lavender gingham and +black ribbons holding a basket, while Letty in her well-worn nankin +picked up the fallen apples. If you want to know more particularly how +Mary looked, ten to one you will see a face like hers in the crowded +street to-morrow, if you are there on the watch: she will not be among +those daughters of Zion who are haughty, and walk with stretched-out +necks and wanton eyes, mincing as they go: let all those pass, and fix +your eyes on some small plump brownish person of firm but quiet +carriage, who looks about her, but does not suppose that anybody is +looking at her. If she has a broad face and square brow, well-marked +eyebrows and curly dark hair, a certain expression of amusement in her +glance which her mouth keeps the secret of, and for the rest features +entirely insignificanttake that ordinary but not disagreeable person +for a portrait of Mary Garth. If you made her smile, she would show you +perfect little teeth; if you made her angry, she would not raise her +voice, but would probably say one of the bitterest things you have ever +tasted the flavor of; if you did her a kindness, she would never forget +it. Mary admired the keen-faced handsome little Vicar in his +well-brushed threadbare clothes more than any man she had had the +opportunity of knowing. She had never heard him say a foolish thing, +though she knew that he did unwise ones; and perhaps foolish sayings +were more objectionable to her than any of Mr. Farebrothers unwise +doings. At least, it was remarkable that the actual imperfections of +the Vicars clerical character never seemed to call forth the same +scorn and dislike which she showed beforehand for the predicted +imperfections of the clerical character sustained by Fred Vincy. These +irregularities of judgment, I imagine, are found even in riper minds +than Mary Garths: our impartiality is kept for abstract merit and +demerit, which none of us ever saw. Will any one guess towards which of +those widely different men Mary had the peculiar womans +tenderness?the one she was most inclined to be severe on, or the +contrary? + +Have you any message for your old playfellow, Miss Garth? said the +Vicar, as he took a fragrant apple from the basket which she held +towards him, and put it in his pocket. Something to soften down that +harsh judgment? I am going straight to see him. + +No, said Mary, shaking her head, and smiling. If I were to say that +he would not be ridiculous as a clergyman, I must say that he would be +something worse than ridiculous. But I am very glad to hear that he is +going away to work. + +On the other hand, I am very glad to hear that _you_ are not going +away to work. My mother, I am sure, will be all the happier if you will +come to see her at the vicarage: you know she is fond of having young +people to talk to, and she has a great deal to tell about old times. +You will really be doing a kindness. + +I should like it very much, if I may, said Mary. Everything seems +too happy for me all at once. I thought it would always be part of my +life to long for home, and losing that grievance makes me feel rather +empty: I suppose it served instead of sense to fill up my mind? + +May I go with you, Mary? whispered Lettya most inconvenient child, +who listened to everything. But she was made exultant by having her +chin pinched and her cheek kissed by Mr. Farebrotheran incident which +she narrated to her mother and father. + +As the Vicar walked to Lowick, any one watching him closely might have +seen him twice shrug his shoulders. I think that the rare Englishmen +who have this gesture are never of the heavy typefor fear of any +lumbering instance to the contrary, I will say, hardly ever; they have +usually a fine temperament and much tolerance towards the smaller +errors of men (themselves inclusive). The Vicar was holding an inward +dialogue in which he told himself that there was probably something +more between Fred and Mary Garth than the regard of old playfellows, +and replied with a question whether that bit of womanhood were not a +great deal too choice for that crude young gentleman. The rejoinder to +this was the first shrug. Then he laughed at himself for being likely +to have felt jealous, as if he had been a man able to marry, which, +added he, it is as clear as any balance-sheet that I am not. Whereupon +followed the second shrug. + +What could two men, so different from each other, see in this brown +patch, as Mary called herself? It was certainly not her plainness that +attracted them (and let all plain young ladies be warned against the +dangerous encouragement given them by Society to confide in their want +of beauty). A human being in this aged nation of ours is a very +wonderful whole, the slow creation of long interchanging influences: +and charm is a result of two such wholes, the one loving and the one +loved. + +When Mr. and Mrs. Garth were sitting alone, Caleb said, Susan, guess +what Im thinking of. + +The rotation of crops, said Mrs. Garth, smiling at him, above her +knitting, or else the back-doors of the Tipton cottages. + +No, said Caleb, gravely; I am thinking that I could do a great turn +for Fred Vincy. Christys gone, Alfred will be gone soon, and it will +be five years before Jim is ready to take to business. I shall want +help, and Fred might come in and learn the nature of things and act +under me, and it might be the making of him into a useful man, if he +gives up being a parson. What do you think? + +I think, there is hardly anything honest that his family would object +to more, said Mrs. Garth, decidedly. + +What care I about their objecting? said Caleb, with a sturdiness +which he was apt to show when he had an opinion. The lad is of age and +must get his bread. He has sense enough and quickness enough; he likes +being on the land, and its my belief that he could learn business well +if he gave his mind to it. + +But would he? His father and mother wanted him to be a fine gentleman, +and I think he has the same sort of feeling himself. They all think us +beneath them. And if the proposal came from you, I am sure Mrs. Vincy +would say that we wanted Fred for Mary. + +Life is a poor tale, if it is to be settled by nonsense of that sort, +said Caleb, with disgust. + +Yes, but there is a certain pride which is proper, Caleb. + +I call it improper pride to let fools notions hinder you from doing a +good action. Theres no sort of work, said Caleb, with fervor, putting +out his hand and moving it up and down to mark his emphasis, that +could ever be done well, if you minded what fools say. You must have it +inside you that your plan is right, and that plan you must follow. + +I will not oppose any plan you have set your mind on, Caleb, said +Mrs. Garth, who was a firm woman, but knew that there were some points +on which her mild husband was yet firmer. Still, it seems to be fixed +that Fred is to go back to college: will it not be better to wait and +see what he will choose to do after that? It is not easy to keep people +against their will. And you are not yet quite sure enough of your own +position, or what you will want. + +Well, it may be better to wait a bit. But as to my getting plenty of +work for two, Im pretty sure of that. Ive always had my hands full +with scattered things, and theres always something fresh turning up. +Why, only yesterdaybless me, I dont think I told you!it was rather +odd that two men should have been at me on different sides to do the +same bit of valuing. And who do you think they were? said Caleb, +taking a pinch of snuff and holding it up between his fingers, as if it +were a part of his exposition. He was fond of a pinch when it occurred +to him, but he usually forgot that this indulgence was at his command. + +His wife held down her knitting and looked attentive. + +Why, that Rigg, or Rigg Featherstone, was one. But Bulstrode was +before him, so Im going to do it for Bulstrode. Whether its mortgage +or purchase theyre going for, I cant tell yet. + +Can that man be going to sell the land just left himwhich he has +taken the name for? said Mrs. Garth. + +Deuce knows, said Caleb, who never referred the knowledge of +discreditable doings to any higher power than the deuce. But Bulstrode +has long been wanting to get a handsome bit of land under his +fingersthat I know. And its a difficult matter to get, in this part +of the country. + +Caleb scattered his snuff carefully instead of taking it, and then +added, The ins and outs of things are curious. Here is the land +theyve been all along expecting for Fred, which it seems the old man +never meant to leave him a foot of, but left it to this side-slip of a +son that he kept in the dark, and thought of his sticking there and +vexing everybody as well as he could have vexed em himself if he could +have kept alive. I say, it would be curious if it got into Bulstrodes +hands after all. The old man hated him, and never would bank with him. + +What reason could the miserable creature have for hating a man whom he +had nothing to do with? said Mrs. Garth. + +Pooh! wheres the use of asking for such fellows reasons? The soul of +man, said Caleb, with the deep tone and grave shake of the head which +always came when he used this phraseThe soul of man, when it gets +fairly rotten, will bear you all sorts of poisonous toad-stools, and no +eye can see whence came the seed thereof. + +It was one of Calebs quaintnesses, that in his difficulty of finding +speech for his thought, he caught, as it were, snatches of diction +which he associated with various points of view or states of mind; and +whenever he had a feeling of awe, he was haunted by a sense of Biblical +phraseology, though he could hardly have given a strict quotation. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +By swaggering could I never thrive, +For the rain it raineth every day. +_Twelfth Night_. + + +The transactions referred to by Caleb Garth as having gone forward +between Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Joshua Rigg Featherstone concerning the +land attached to Stone Court, had occasioned the interchange of a +letter or two between these personages. + +Who shall tell what may be the effect of writing? If it happens to have +been cut in stone, though it lie face down-most for ages on a forsaken +beach, or rest quietly under the drums and tramplings of many +conquests, it may end by letting us into the secret of usurpations and +other scandals gossiped about long empires ago:this world being +apparently a huge whispering-gallery. Such conditions are often +minutely represented in our petty lifetimes. As the stone which has +been kicked by generations of clowns may come by curious little links +of effect under the eyes of a scholar, through whose labors it may at +last fix the date of invasions and unlock religions, so a bit of ink +and paper which has long been an innocent wrapping or stop-gap may at +last be laid open under the one pair of eyes which have knowledge +enough to turn it into the opening of a catastrophe. To Uriel watching +the progress of planetary history from the sun, the one result would be +just as much of a coincidence as the other. + +Having made this rather lofty comparison I am less uneasy in calling +attention to the existence of low people by whose interference, however +little we may like it, the course of the world is very much determined. +It would be well, certainly, if we could help to reduce their number, +and something might perhaps be done by not lightly giving occasion to +their existence. Socially speaking, Joshua Rigg would have been +generally pronounced a superfluity. But those who like Peter +Featherstone never had a copy of themselves demanded, are the very last +to wait for such a request either in prose or verse. The copy in this +case bore more of outside resemblance to the mother, in whose sex +frog-features, accompanied with fresh-colored cheeks and a well-rounded +figure, are compatible with much charm for a certain order of admirers. +The result is sometimes a frog-faced male, desirable, surely, to no +order of intelligent beings. Especially when he is suddenly brought +into evidence to frustrate other peoples expectationsthe very lowest +aspect in which a social superfluity can present himself. + +But Mr. Rigg Featherstones low characteristics were all of the sober, +water-drinking kind. From the earliest to the latest hour of the day he +was always as sleek, neat, and cool as the frog he resembled, and old +Peter had secretly chuckled over an offshoot almost more calculating, +and far more imperturbable, than himself. I will add that his +finger-nails were scrupulously attended to, and that he meant to marry +a well-educated young lady (as yet unspecified) whose person was good, +and whose connections, in a solid middle-class way, were undeniable. +Thus his nails and modesty were comparable to those of most gentlemen; +though his ambition had been educated only by the opportunities of a +clerk and accountant in the smaller commercial houses of a seaport. He +thought the rural Featherstones very simple absurd people, and they in +their turn regarded his bringing up in a seaport town as an +exaggeration of the monstrosity that their brother Peter, and still +more Peters property, should have had such belongings. + +The garden and gravel approach, as seen from the two windows of the +wainscoted parlor at Stone Court, were never in better trim than now, +when Mr. Rigg Featherstone stood, with his hands behind him, looking +out on these grounds as their master. But it seemed doubtful whether he +looked out for the sake of contemplation or of turning his back to a +person who stood in the middle of the room, with his legs considerably +apart and his hands in his trouser-pockets: a person in all respects a +contrast to the sleek and cool Rigg. He was a man obviously on the way +towards sixty, very florid and hairy, with much gray in his bushy +whiskers and thick curly hair, a stoutish body which showed to +disadvantage the somewhat worn joinings of his clothes, and the air of +a swaggerer, who would aim at being noticeable even at a show of +fireworks, regarding his own remarks on any other persons performance +as likely to be more interesting than the performance itself. + +His name was John Raffles, and he sometimes wrote jocosely W.A.G. after +his signature, observing when he did so, that he was once taught by +Leonard Lamb of Finsbury who wrote B.A. after his name, and that he, +Raffles, originated the witticism of calling that celebrated principal +Ba-Lamb. Such were the appearance and mental flavor of Mr. Raffles, +both of which seemed to have a stale odor of travellers rooms in the +commercial hotels of that period. + +Come, now, Josh, he was saying, in a full rumbling tone, look at it +in this light: here is your poor mother going into the vale of years, +and you could afford something handsome now to make her comfortable. + +Not while you live. Nothing would make her comfortable while you +live, returned Rigg, in his cool high voice. What I give her, youll +take. + +You bear me a grudge, Josh, that I know. But come, nowas between man +and manwithout humbuga little capital might enable me to make a +first-rate thing of the shop. The tobacco trade is growing. I should +cut my own nose off in not doing the best I could at it. I should stick +to it like a flea to a fleece for my own sake. I should always be on +the spot. And nothing would make your poor mother so happy. Ive pretty +well done with my wild oatsturned fifty-five. I want to settle down in +my chimney-corner. And if I once buckled to the tobacco trade, I could +bring an amount of brains and experience to bear on it that would not +be found elsewhere in a hurry. I dont want to be bothering you one +time after another, but to get things once for all into the right +channel. Consider that, Joshas between man and manand with your poor +mother to be made easy for her life. I was always fond of the old +woman, by Jove! + +Have you done? said Mr. Rigg, quietly, without looking away from the +window. + +Yes, _I_ve done, said Raffles, taking hold of his hat which stood +before him on the table, and giving it a sort of oratorical push. + +Then just listen to me. The more you say anything, the less I shall +believe it. The more you want me to do a thing, the more reason I shall +have for never doing it. Do you think I mean to forget your kicking me +when I was a lad, and eating all the best victual away from me and my +mother? Do you think I forget your always coming home to sell and +pocket everything, and going off again leaving us in the lurch? I +should be glad to see you whipped at the cart-tail. My mother was a +fool to you: shed no right to give me a father-in-law, and shes been +punished for it. She shall have her weekly allowance paid and no more: +and that shall be stopped if you dare to come on to these premises +again, or to come into this country after me again. The next time you +show yourself inside the gates here, you shall be driven off with the +dogs and the wagoners whip. + +As Rigg pronounced the last words he turned round and looked at Raffles +with his prominent frozen eyes. The contrast was as striking as it +could have been eighteen years before, when Rigg was a most unengaging +kickable boy, and Raffles was the rather thick-set Adonis of bar-rooms +and back-parlors. But the advantage now was on the side of Rigg, and +auditors of this conversation might probably have expected that Raffles +would retire with the air of a defeated dog. Not at all. He made a +grimace which was habitual with him whenever he was out in a game; +then subsided into a laugh, and drew a brandy-flask from his pocket. + +Come, Josh, he said, in a cajoling tone, give us a spoonful of +brandy, and a sovereign to pay the way back, and Ill go. Honor bright! +Ill go like a bullet, _by_ Jove! + +Mind, said Rigg, drawing out a bunch of keys, if I ever see you +again, I shant speak to you. I dont own you any more than if I saw a +crow; and if you want to own me youll get nothing by it but a +character for being what you area spiteful, brassy, bullying rogue. + +Thats a pity, now, Josh, said Raffles, affecting to scratch his head +and wrinkle his brows upward as if he were nonplussed. Im very fond +of you; _by_ Jove, I am! Theres nothing I like better than plaguing +youyoure so like your mother, and I must do without it. But the +brandy and the sovereigns a bargain. + +He jerked forward the flask and Rigg went to a fine old oaken bureau +with his keys. But Raffles had reminded himself by his movement with +the flask that it had become dangerously loose from its leather +covering, and catching sight of a folded paper which had fallen within +the fender, he took it up and shoved it under the leather so as to make +the glass firm. + +By that time Rigg came forward with a brandy-bottle, filled the flask, +and handed Raffles a sovereign, neither looking at him nor speaking to +him. After locking up the bureau again, he walked to the window and +gazed out as impassibly as he had done at the beginning of the +interview, while Raffles took a small allowance from the flask, screwed +it up, and deposited it in his side-pocket, with provoking slowness, +making a grimace at his stepsons back. + +Farewell, Joshand if forever! said Raffles, turning back his head as +he opened the door. + +Rigg saw him leave the grounds and enter the lane. The gray day had +turned to a light drizzling rain, which freshened the hedgerows and the +grassy borders of the by-roads, and hastened the laborers who were +loading the last shocks of corn. Raffles, walking with the uneasy gait +of a town loiterer obliged to do a bit of country journeying on foot, +looked as incongruous amid this moist rural quiet and industry as if he +had been a baboon escaped from a menagerie. But there were none to +stare at him except the long-weaned calves, and none to show dislike of +his appearance except the little water-rats which rustled away at his +approach. + +He was fortunate enough when he got on to the highroad to be overtaken +by the stage-coach, which carried him to Brassing; and there he took +the new-made railway, observing to his fellow-passengers that he +considered it pretty well seasoned now it had done for Huskisson. Mr. +Raffles on most occasions kept up the sense of having been educated at +an academy, and being able, if he chose, to pass well everywhere; +indeed, there was not one of his fellow-men whom he did not feel +himself in a position to ridicule and torment, confident of the +entertainment which he thus gave to all the rest of the company. + +He played this part now with as much spirit as if his journey had been +entirely successful, resorting at frequent intervals to his flask. The +paper with which he had wedged it was a letter signed _Nicholas +Bulstrode_, but Raffles was not likely to disturb it from its present +useful position. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +How much, methinks, I could despise this man +Were I not bound in charity against it! +SHAKESPEARE: _Henry VIII_. + + +One of the professional calls made by Lydgate soon after his return +from his wedding-journey was to Lowick Manor, in consequence of a +letter which had requested him to fix a time for his visit. + +Mr. Casaubon had never put any question concerning the nature of his +illness to Lydgate, nor had he even to Dorothea betrayed any anxiety as +to how far it might be likely to cut short his labors or his life. On +this point, as on all others, he shrank from pity; and if the suspicion +of being pitied for anything in his lot surmised or known in spite of +himself was embittering, the idea of calling forth a show of compassion +by frankly admitting an alarm or a sorrow was necessarily intolerable +to him. Every proud mind knows something of this experience, and +perhaps it is only to be overcome by a sense of fellowship deep enough +to make all efforts at isolation seem mean and petty instead of +exalting. + +But Mr. Casaubon was now brooding over something through which the +question of his health and life haunted his silence with a more +harassing importunity even than through the autumnal unripeness of his +authorship. It is true that this last might be called his central +ambition; but there are some kinds of authorship in which by far the +largest result is the uneasy susceptibility accumulated in the +consciousness of the authorone knows of the river by a few streaks +amid a long-gathered deposit of uncomfortable mud. That was the way +with Mr. Casaubons hard intellectual labors. Their most characteristic +result was not the Key to all Mythologies, but a morbid consciousness +that others did not give him the place which he had not demonstrably +meriteda perpetual suspicious conjecture that the views entertained of +him were not to his advantagea melancholy absence of passion in his +efforts at achievement, and a passionate resistance to the confession +that he had achieved nothing. + +Thus his intellectual ambition which seemed to others to have absorbed +and dried him, was really no security against wounds, least of all +against those which came from Dorothea. And he had begun now to frame +possibilities for the future which were somehow more embittering to him +than anything his mind had dwelt on before. + +Against certain facts he was helpless: against Will Ladislaws +existence, his defiant stay in the neighborhood of Lowick, and his +flippant state of mind with regard to the possessors of authentic, +well-stamped erudition: against Dorotheas nature, always taking on +some new shape of ardent activity, and even in submission and silence +covering fervid reasons which it was an irritation to think of: against +certain notions and likings which had taken possession of her mind in +relation to subjects that he could not possibly discuss with her. There +was no denying that Dorothea was as virtuous and lovely a young lady as +he could have obtained for a wife; but a young lady turned out to be +something more troublesome than he had conceived. She nursed him, she +read to him, she anticipated his wants, and was solicitous about his +feelings; but there had entered into the husbands mind the certainty +that she judged him, and that her wifely devotedness was like a +penitential expiation of unbelieving thoughtswas accompanied with a +power of comparison by which himself and his doings were seen too +luminously as a part of things in general. His discontent passed +vapor-like through all her gentle loving manifestations, and clung to +that inappreciative world which she had only brought nearer to him. + +Poor Mr. Casaubon! This suffering was the harder to bear because it +seemed like a betrayal: the young creature who had worshipped him with +perfect trust had quickly turned into the critical wife; and early +instances of criticism and resentment had made an impression which no +tenderness and submission afterwards could remove. To his suspicious +interpretation Dorotheas silence now was a suppressed rebellion; a +remark from her which he had not in any way anticipated was an +assertion of conscious superiority; her gentle answers had an +irritating cautiousness in them; and when she acquiesced it was a +self-approved effort of forbearance. The tenacity with which he strove +to hide this inward drama made it the more vivid for him; as we hear +with the more keenness what we wish others not to hear. + +Instead of wondering at this result of misery in Mr. Casaubon, I think +it quite ordinary. Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot +out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the +blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self. And who, if Mr. Casaubon +had chosen to expound his discontentshis suspicions that he was not +any longer adored without criticismcould have denied that they were +founded on good reasons? On the contrary, there was a strong reason to +be added, which he had not himself taken explicitly into +accountnamely, that he was not unmixedly adorable. He suspected this, +however, as he suspected other things, without confessing it, and like +the rest of us, felt how soothing it would have been to have a +companion who would never find it out. + +This sore susceptibility in relation to Dorothea was thoroughly +prepared before Will Ladislaw had returned to Lowick, and what had +occurred since then had brought Mr. Casaubons power of suspicious +construction into exasperated activity. To all the facts which he knew, +he added imaginary facts both present and future which became more real +to him than those because they called up a stronger dislike, a more +predominating bitterness. Suspicion and jealousy of Will Ladislaws +intentions, suspicion and jealousy of Dorotheas impressions, were +constantly at their weaving work. It would be quite unjust to him to +suppose that he could have entered into any coarse misinterpretation of +Dorothea: his own habits of mind and conduct, quite as much as the open +elevation of her nature, saved him from any such mistake. What he was +jealous of was her opinion, the sway that might be given to her ardent +mind in its judgments, and the future possibilities to which these +might lead her. As to Will, though until his last defiant letter he had +nothing definite which he would choose formally to allege against him, +he felt himself warranted in believing that he was capable of any +design which could fascinate a rebellious temper and an undisciplined +impulsiveness. He was quite sure that Dorothea was the cause of Wills +return from Rome, and his determination to settle in the neighborhood; +and he was penetrating enough to imagine that Dorothea had innocently +encouraged this course. It was as clear as possible that she was ready +to be attached to Will and to be pliant to his suggestions: they had +never had a _tte--tte_ without her bringing away from it some new +troublesome impression, and the last interview that Mr. Casaubon was +aware of (Dorothea, on returning from Freshitt Hall, had for the first +time been silent about having seen Will) had led to a scene which +roused an angrier feeling against them both than he had ever known +before. Dorotheas outpouring of her notions about money, in the +darkness of the night, had done nothing but bring a mixture of more +odious foreboding into her husbands mind. + +And there was the shock lately given to his health always sadly present +with him. He was certainly much revived; he had recovered all his usual +power of work: the illness might have been mere fatigue, and there +might still be twenty years of achievement before him, which would +justify the thirty years of preparation. That prospect was made the +sweeter by a flavor of vengeance against the hasty sneers of Carp & +Company; for even when Mr. Casaubon was carrying his taper among the +tombs of the past, those modern figures came athwart the dim light, and +interrupted his diligent exploration. To convince Carp of his mistake, +so that he would have to eat his own words with a good deal of +indigestion, would be an agreeable accident of triumphant authorship, +which the prospect of living to future ages on earth and to all +eternity in heaven could not exclude from contemplation. Since, thus, +the prevision of his own unending bliss could not nullify the bitter +savors of irritated jealousy and vindictiveness, it is the less +surprising that the probability of a transient earthly bliss for other +persons, when he himself should have entered into glory, had not a +potently sweetening effect. If the truth should be that some +undermining disease was at work within him, there might be large +opportunity for some people to be the happier when he was gone; and if +one of those people should be Will Ladislaw, Mr. Casaubon objected so +strongly that it seemed as if the annoyance would make part of his +disembodied existence. + +This is a very bare and therefore a very incomplete way of putting the +case. The human soul moves in many channels, and Mr. Casaubon, we know, +had a sense of rectitude and an honorable pride in satisfying the +requirements of honor, which compelled him to find other reasons for +his conduct than those of jealousy and vindictiveness. The way in which +Mr. Casaubon put the case was this:In marrying Dorothea Brooke I had +to care for her well-being in case of my death. But well-being is not +to be secured by ample, independent possession of property; on the +contrary, occasions might arise in which such possession might expose +her to the more danger. She is ready prey to any man who knows how to +play adroitly either on her affectionate ardor or her Quixotic +enthusiasm; and a man stands by with that very intention in his minda +man with no other principle than transient caprice, and who has a +personal animosity towards meI am sure of itan animosity which is fed +by the consciousness of his ingratitude, and which he has constantly +vented in ridicule of which I am as well assured as if I had heard it. +Even if I live I shall not be without uneasiness as to what he may +attempt through indirect influence. This man has gained Dorotheas ear: +he has fascinated her attention; he has evidently tried to impress her +mind with the notion that he has claims beyond anything I have done for +him. If I dieand he is waiting here on the watch for thathe will +persuade her to marry him. That would be calamity for her and success +for him. _She_ would not think it calamity: he would make her believe +anything; she has a tendency to immoderate attachment which she +inwardly reproaches me for not responding to, and already her mind is +occupied with his fortunes. He thinks of an easy conquest and of +entering into my nest. That I will hinder! Such a marriage would be +fatal to Dorothea. Has he ever persisted in anything except from +contradiction? In knowledge he has always tried to be showy at small +cost. In religion he could be, as long as it suited him, the facile +echo of Dorotheas vagaries. When was sciolism ever dissociated from +laxity? I utterly distrust his morals, and it is my duty to hinder to +the utmost the fulfilment of his designs. + +The arrangements made by Mr. Casaubon on his marriage left strong +measures open to him, but in ruminating on them his mind inevitably +dwelt so much on the probabilities of his own life that the longing to +get the nearest possible calculation had at last overcome his proud +reticence, and had determined him to ask Lydgates opinion as to the +nature of his illness. + +He had mentioned to Dorothea that Lydgate was coming by appointment at +half-past three, and in answer to her anxious question, whether he had +felt ill, replied,No, I merely wish to have his opinion concerning +some habitual symptoms. You need not see him, my dear. I shall give +orders that he may be sent to me in the Yew-tree Walk, where I shall be +taking my usual exercise. + +When Lydgate entered the Yew-tree Walk he saw Mr. Casaubon slowly +receding with his hands behind him according to his habit, and his head +bent forward. It was a lovely afternoon; the leaves from the lofty +limes were falling silently across the sombre evergreens, while the +lights and shadows slept side by side: there was no sound but the +cawing of the rooks, which to the accustomed ear is a lullaby, or that +last solemn lullaby, a dirge. Lydgate, conscious of an energetic frame +in its prime, felt some compassion when the figure which he was likely +soon to overtake turned round, and in advancing towards him showed more +markedly than ever the signs of premature agethe students bent +shoulders, the emaciated limbs, and the melancholy lines of the mouth. +Poor fellow, he thought, some men with his years are like lions; one +can tell nothing of their age except that they are full grown. + +Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. Casaubon, with his invariably polite air, I am +exceedingly obliged to you for your punctuality. We will, if you +please, carry on our conversation in walking to and fro. + +I hope your wish to see me is not due to the return of unpleasant +symptoms, said Lydgate, filling up a pause. + +Not immediatelyno. In order to account for that wish I must +mentionwhat it were otherwise needless to refer tothat my life, on +all collateral accounts insignificant, derives a possible importance +from the incompleteness of labors which have extended through all its +best years. In short, I have long had on hand a work which I would fain +leave behind me in such a state, at least, that it might be committed +to the press byothers. Were I assured that this is the utmost I can +reasonably expect, that assurance would be a useful circumscription of +my attempts, and a guide in both the positive and negative +determination of my course. + +Here Mr. Casaubon paused, removed one hand from his back and thrust it +between the buttons of his single-breasted coat. To a mind largely +instructed in the human destiny hardly anything could be more +interesting than the inward conflict implied in his formal measured +address, delivered with the usual sing-song and motion of the head. +Nay, are there many situations more sublimely tragic than the struggle +of the soul with the demand to renounce a work which has been all the +significance of its lifea significance which is to vanish as the +waters which come and go where no man has need of them? But there was +nothing to strike others as sublime about Mr. Casaubon, and Lydgate, +who had some contempt at hand for futile scholarship, felt a little +amusement mingling with his pity. He was at present too ill acquainted +with disaster to enter into the pathos of a lot where everything is +below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the +sufferer. + +You refer to the possible hindrances from want of health? he said, +wishing to help forward Mr. Casaubons purpose, which seemed to be +clogged by some hesitation. + +I do. You have not implied to me that the symptoms whichI am bound to +testifyyou watched with scrupulous care, were those of a fatal +disease. But were it so, Mr. Lydgate, I should desire to know the truth +without reservation, and I appeal to you for an exact statement of your +conclusions: I request it as a friendly service. If you can tell me +that my life is not threatened by anything else than ordinary +casualties, I shall rejoice, on grounds which I have already indicated. +If not, knowledge of the truth is even more important to me. + +Then I can no longer hesitate as to my course, said Lydgate; but the +first thing I must impress on you is that my conclusions are doubly +uncertainuncertain not only because of my fallibility, but because +diseases of the heart are eminently difficult to found predictions on. +In any case, one can hardly increase appreciably the tremendous +uncertainty of life. + +Mr. Casaubon winced perceptibly, but bowed. + +I believe that you are suffering from what is called fatty +degeneration of the heart, a disease which was first divined and +explored by Laennec, the man who gave us the stethoscope, not so very +many years ago. A good deal of experiencea more lengthened +observationis wanting on the subject. But after what you have said, it +is my duty to tell you that death from this disease is often sudden. At +the same time, no such result can be predicted. Your condition may be +consistent with a tolerably comfortable life for another fifteen years, +or even more. I could add no information to this beyond anatomical or +medical details, which would leave expectation at precisely the same +point. Lydgates instinct was fine enough to tell him that plain +speech, quite free from ostentatious caution, would be felt by Mr. +Casaubon as a tribute of respect. + +I thank you, Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. Casaubon, after a moments pause. +One thing more I have still to ask: did you communicate what you have +now told me to Mrs. Casaubon? + +PartlyI mean, as to the possible issues. Lydgate was going to +explain why he had told Dorothea, but Mr. Casaubon, with an +unmistakable desire to end the conversation, waved his hand slightly, +and said again, I thank you, proceeding to remark on the rare beauty +of the day. + +Lydgate, certain that his patient wished to be alone, soon left him; +and the black figure with hands behind and head bent forward continued +to pace the walk where the dark yew-trees gave him a mute companionship +in melancholy, and the little shadows of bird or leaf that fleeted +across the isles of sunlight, stole along in silence as in the presence +of a sorrow. Here was a man who now for the first time found himself +looking into the eyes of deathwho was passing through one of those +rare moments of experience when we feel the truth of a commonplace, +which is as different from what we call knowing it, as the vision of +waters upon the earth is different from the delirious vision of the +water which cannot be had to cool the burning tongue. When the +commonplace We must all die transforms itself suddenly into the acute +consciousness I must dieand soon, then death grapples us, and his +fingers are cruel; afterwards, he may come to fold us in his arms as +our mother did, and our last moment of dim earthly discerning may be +like the first. To Mr. Casaubon now, it was as if he suddenly found +himself on the dark river-brink and heard the plash of the oncoming +oar, not discerning the forms, but expecting the summons. In such an +hour the mind does not change its lifelong bias, but carries it onward +in imagination to the other side of death, gazing backwardperhaps with +the divine calm of beneficence, perhaps with the petty anxieties of +self-assertion. What was Mr. Casaubons bias his acts will give us a +clew to. He held himself to be, with some private scholarly +reservations, a believing Christian, as to estimates of the present and +hopes of the future. But what we strive to gratify, though we may call +it a distant hope, is an immediate desire: the future estate for which +men drudge up city alleys exists already in their imagination and love. +And Mr. Casaubons immediate desire was not for divine communion and +light divested of earthly conditions; his passionate longings, poor +man, clung low and mist-like in very shady places. + +Dorothea had been aware when Lydgate had ridden away, and she had +stepped into the garden, with the impulse to go at once to her husband. +But she hesitated, fearing to offend him by obtruding herself; for her +ardor, continually repulsed, served, with her intense memory, to +heighten her dread, as thwarted energy subsides into a shudder; and she +wandered slowly round the nearer clumps of trees until she saw him +advancing. Then she went towards him, and might have represented a +heaven-sent angel coming with a promise that the short hours remaining +should yet be filled with that faithful love which clings the closer to +a comprehended grief. His glance in reply to hers was so chill that she +felt her timidity increased; yet she turned and passed her hand through +his arm. + +Mr. Casaubon kept his hands behind him and allowed her pliant arm to +cling with difficulty against his rigid arm. + +There was something horrible to Dorothea in the sensation which this +unresponsive hardness inflicted on her. That is a strong word, but not +too strong: it is in these acts called trivialities that the seeds of +joy are forever wasted, until men and women look round with haggard +faces at the devastation their own waste has made, and say, the earth +bears no harvest of sweetnesscalling their denial knowledge. You may +ask why, in the name of manliness, Mr. Casaubon should have behaved in +that way. Consider that his was a mind which shrank from pity: have you +ever watched in such a mind the effect of a suspicion that what is +pressing it as a grief may be really a source of contentment, either +actual or future, to the being who already offends by pitying? Besides, +he knew little of Dorotheas sensations, and had not reflected that on +such an occasion as the present they were comparable in strength to his +own sensibilities about Carps criticisms. + +Dorothea did not withdraw her arm, but she could not venture to speak. +Mr. Casaubon did not say, I wish to be alone, but he directed his +steps in silence towards the house, and as they entered by the glass +door on this eastern side, Dorothea withdrew her arm and lingered on +the matting, that she might leave her husband quite free. He entered +the library and shut himself in, alone with his sorrow. + +She went up to her boudoir. The open bow-window let in the serene glory +of the afternoon lying in the avenue, where the lime-trees cast long +shadows. But Dorothea knew nothing of the scene. She threw herself on a +chair, not heeding that she was in the dazzling sun-rays: if there were +discomfort in that, how could she tell that it was not part of her +inward misery? + +She was in the reaction of a rebellious anger stronger than any she had +felt since her marriage. Instead of tears there came words: + +What have I donewhat am Ithat he should treat me so? He never knows +what is in my mindhe never cares. What is the use of anything I do? He +wishes he had never married me. + +She began to hear herself, and was checked into stillness. Like one who +has lost his way and is weary, she sat and saw as in one glance all the +paths of her young hope which she should never find again. And just as +clearly in the miserable light she saw her own and her husbands +solitudehow they walked apart so that she was obliged to survey him. +If he had drawn her towards him, she would never have surveyed +himnever have said, Is he worth living for? but would have felt him +simply a part of her own life. Now she said bitterly, It is his fault, +not mine. In the jar of her whole being, Pity was overthrown. Was it +her fault that she had believed in himhad believed in his +worthiness?And what, exactly, was he? She was able enough to estimate +himshe who waited on his glances with trembling, and shut her best +soul in prison, paying it only hidden visits, that she might be petty +enough to please him. In such a crisis as this, some women begin to +hate. + +The sun was low when Dorothea was thinking that she would not go down +again, but would send a message to her husband saying that she was not +well and preferred remaining up-stairs. She had never deliberately +allowed her resentment to govern her in this way before, but she +believed now that she could not see him again without telling him the +truth about her feeling, and she must wait till she could do it without +interruption. He might wonder and be hurt at her message. It was good +that he should wonder and be hurt. Her anger said, as anger is apt to +say, that God was with herthat all heaven, though it were crowded with +spirits watching them, must be on her side. She had determined to ring +her bell, when there came a rap at the door. + +Mr. Casaubon had sent to say that he would have his dinner in the +library. He wished to be quite alone this evening, being much occupied. + +I shall not dine, then, Tantripp. + +Oh, madam, let me bring you a little something? + +No; I am not well. Get everything ready in my dressing room, but pray +do not disturb me again. + +Dorothea sat almost motionless in her meditative struggle, while the +evening slowly deepened into night. But the struggle changed +continually, as that of a man who begins with a movement towards +striking and ends with conquering his desire to strike. The energy that +would animate a crime is not more than is wanted to inspire a resolved +submission, when the noble habit of the soul reasserts itself. That +thought with which Dorothea had gone out to meet her husbandher +conviction that he had been asking about the possible arrest of all his +work, and that the answer must have wrung his heart, could not be long +without rising beside the image of him, like a shadowy monitor looking +at her anger with sad remonstrance. It cost her a litany of pictured +sorrows and of silent cries that she might be the mercy for those +sorrowsbut the resolved submission did come; and when the house was +still, and she knew that it was near the time when Mr. Casaubon +habitually went to rest, she opened her door gently and stood outside +in the darkness waiting for his coming up-stairs with a light in his +hand. If he did not come soon she thought that she would go down and +even risk incurring another pang. She would never again expect anything +else. But she did hear the library door open, and slowly the light +advanced up the staircase without noise from the footsteps on the +carpet. When her husband stood opposite to her, she saw that his face +was more haggard. He started slightly on seeing her, and she looked up +at him beseechingly, without speaking. + +Dorothea! he said, with a gentle surprise in his tone. Were you +waiting for me? + +Yes, I did not like to disturb you. + +Come, my dear, come. You are young, and need not to extend your life +by watching. + +When the kind quiet melancholy of that speech fell on Dorotheas ears, +she felt something like the thankfulness that might well up in us if we +had narrowly escaped hurting a lamed creature. She put her hand into +her husbands, and they went along the broad corridor together. + + + + +BOOK V. +THE DEAD HAND. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +This figure hath high price: t was wrought with love +Ages ago in finest ivory; +Nought modish in it, pure and noble lines +Of generous womanhood that fits all time +That too is costly ware; majolica +Of deft design, to please a lordly eye: +The smile, you see, is perfectwonderful +As mere Faience! a table ornament +To suit the richest mounting. + + +Dorothea seldom left home without her husband, but she did occasionally +drive into Middlemarch alone, on little errands of shopping or charity +such as occur to every lady of any wealth when she lives within three +miles of a town. Two days after that scene in the Yew-tree Walk, she +determined to use such an opportunity in order if possible to see +Lydgate, and learn from him whether her husband had really felt any +depressing change of symptoms which he was concealing from her, and +whether he had insisted on knowing the utmost about himself. She felt +almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but the +dread of being without itthe dread of that ignorance which would make +her unjust or hardovercame every scruple. That there had been some +crisis in her husbands mind she was certain: he had the very next day +begun a new method of arranging his notes, and had associated her quite +newly in carrying out his plan. Poor Dorothea needed to lay up stores +of patience. + +It was about four oclock when she drove to Lydgates house in Lowick +Gate, wishing, in her immediate doubt of finding him at home, that she +had written beforehand. And he was not at home. + +Is Mrs. Lydgate at home? said Dorothea, who had never, that she knew +of, seen Rosamond, but now remembered the fact of the marriage. Yes, +Mrs. Lydgate was at home. + +I will go in and speak to her, if she will allow me. Will you ask her +if she can see mesee Mrs. Casaubon, for a few minutes? + +When the servant had gone to deliver that message, Dorothea could hear +sounds of music through an open windowa few notes from a mans voice +and then a piano bursting into roulades. But the roulades broke off +suddenly, and then the servant came back saying that Mrs. Lydgate would +be happy to see Mrs. Casaubon. + +When the drawing-room door opened and Dorothea entered, there was a +sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the habits of the +different ranks were less blent than now. Let those who know, tell us +exactly what stuff it was that Dorothea wore in those days of mild +autumnthat thin white woollen stuff soft to the touch and soft to the +eye. It always seemed to have been lately washed, and to smell of the +sweet hedgeswas always in the shape of a pelisse with sleeves hanging +all out of the fashion. Yet if she had entered before a still audience +as Imogene or Catos daughter, the dress might have seemed right +enough: the grace and dignity were in her limbs and neck; and about her +simply parted hair and candid eyes the large round poke which was then +in the fate of women, seemed no more odd as a head-dress than the gold +trencher we call a halo. By the present audience of two persons, no +dramatic heroine could have been expected with more interest than Mrs. +Casaubon. To Rosamond she was one of those county divinities not mixing +with Middlemarch mortality, whose slightest marks of manner or +appearance were worthy of her study; moreover, Rosamond was not without +satisfaction that Mrs. Casaubon should have an opportunity of studying +_her_. What is the use of being exquisite if you are not seen by the +best judges? and since Rosamond had received the highest compliments at +Sir Godwin Lydgates, she felt quite confident of the impression she +must make on people of good birth. Dorothea put out her hand with her +usual simple kindness, and looked admiringly at Lydgates lovely +brideaware that there was a gentleman standing at a distance, but +seeing him merely as a coated figure at a wide angle. The gentleman was +too much occupied with the presence of the one woman to reflect on the +contrast between the twoa contrast that would certainly have been +striking to a calm observer. They were both tall, and their eyes were +on a level; but imagine Rosamonds infantine blondness and wondrous +crown of hair-plaits, with her pale-blue dress of a fit and fashion so +perfect that no dressmaker could look at it without emotion, a large +embroidered collar which it was to be hoped all beholders would know +the price of, her small hands duly set off with rings, and that +controlled self-consciousness of manner which is the expensive +substitute for simplicity. + +Thank you very much for allowing me to interrupt you, said Dorothea, +immediately. I am anxious to see Mr. Lydgate, if possible, before I go +home, and I hoped that you might possibly tell me where I could find +him, or even allow me to wait for him, if you expect him soon. + +He is at the New Hospital, said Rosamond; I am not sure how soon he +will come home. But I can send for him. + +Will you let me go and fetch him? said Will Ladislaw, coming forward. +He had already taken up his hat before Dorothea entered. She colored +with surprise, but put out her hand with a smile of unmistakable +pleasure, saying + +I did not know it was you: I had no thought of seeing you here. + +May I go to the Hospital and tell Mr. Lydgate that you wish to see +him? said Will. + +It would be quicker to send the carriage for him, said Dorothea, if +you will be kind enough to give the message to the coachman. + +Will was moving to the door when Dorothea, whose mind had flashed in an +instant over many connected memories, turned quickly and said, I will +go myself, thank you. I wish to lose no time before getting home again. +I will drive to the Hospital and see Mr. Lydgate there. Pray excuse me, +Mrs. Lydgate. I am very much obliged to you. + +Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, and she left +the room hardly conscious of what was immediately around herhardly +conscious that Will opened the door for her and offered her his arm to +lead her to the carriage. She took the arm but said nothing. Will was +feeling rather vexed and miserable, and found nothing to say on his +side. He handed her into the carriage in silence, they said good-by, +and Dorothea drove away. + +In the five minutes drive to the Hospital she had time for some +reflections that were quite new to her. Her decision to go, and her +preoccupation in leaving the room, had come from the sudden sense that +there would be a sort of deception in her voluntarily allowing any +further intercourse between herself and Will which she was unable to +mention to her husband, and already her errand in seeking Lydgate was a +matter of concealment. That was all that had been explicitly in her +mind; but she had been urged also by a vague discomfort. Now that she +was alone in her drive, she heard the notes of the mans voice and the +accompanying piano, which she had not noted much at the time, returning +on her inward sense; and she found herself thinking with some wonder +that Will Ladislaw was passing his time with Mrs. Lydgate in her +husbands absence. And then she could not help remembering that he had +passed some time with her under like circumstances, so why should there +be any unfitness in the fact? But Will was Mr. Casaubons relative, and +one towards whom she was bound to show kindness. Still there had been +signs which perhaps she ought to have understood as implying that Mr. +Casaubon did not like his cousins visits during his own absence. +Perhaps I have been mistaken in many things, said poor Dorothea to +herself, while the tears came rolling and she had to dry them quickly. +She felt confusedly unhappy, and the image of Will which had been so +clear to her before was mysteriously spoiled. But the carriage stopped +at the gate of the Hospital. She was soon walking round the grass plots +with Lydgate, and her feelings recovered the strong bent which had made +her seek for this interview. + +Will Ladislaw, meanwhile, was mortified, and knew the reason of it +clearly enough. His chances of meeting Dorothea were rare; and here for +the first time there had come a chance which had set him at a +disadvantage. It was not only, as it had been hitherto, that she was +not supremely occupied with him, but that she had seen him under +circumstances in which he might appear not to be supremely occupied +with her. He felt thrust to a new distance from her, amongst the +circles of Middlemarchers who made no part of her life. But that was +not his fault: of course, since he had taken his lodgings in the town, +he had been making as many acquaintances as he could, his position +requiring that he should know everybody and everything. Lydgate was +really better worth knowing than any one else in the neighborhood, and +he happened to have a wife who was musical and altogether worth calling +upon. Here was the whole history of the situation in which Diana had +descended too unexpectedly on her worshipper. It was mortifying. Will +was conscious that he should not have been at Middlemarch but for +Dorothea; and yet his position there was threatening to divide him from +her with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are more fatal to +the persistence of mutual interest than all the distance between Rome +and Britain. Prejudices about rank and status were easy enough to defy +in the form of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Casaubon; but prejudices, +like odorous bodies, have a double existence both solid and +subtlesolid as the pyramids, subtle as the twentieth echo of an echo, +or as the memory of hyacinths which once scented the darkness. And Will +was of a temperament to feel keenly the presence of subtleties: a man +of clumsier perceptions would not have felt, as he did, that for the +first time some sense of unfitness in perfect freedom with him had +sprung up in Dorotheas mind, and that their silence, as he conducted +her to the carriage, had had a chill in it. Perhaps Casaubon, in his +hatred and jealousy, had been insisting to Dorothea that Will had slid +below her socially. Confound Casaubon! + +Will re-entered the drawing-room, took up his hat, and looking +irritated as he advanced towards Mrs. Lydgate, who had seated herself +at her work-table, said + +It is always fatal to have music or poetry interrupted. May I come +another day and just finish about the rendering of Lungi dal caro +bene? + +I shall be happy to be taught, said Rosamond. But I am sure you +admit that the interruption was a very beautiful one. I quite envy your +acquaintance with Mrs. Casaubon. Is she very clever? She looks as if +she were. + +Really, I never thought about it, said Will, sulkily. + +That is just the answer Tertius gave me, when I first asked him if she +were handsome. What is it that you gentlemen are thinking of when you +are with Mrs. Casaubon? + +Herself, said Will, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. +Lydgate. When one sees a perfect woman, one never thinks of her +attributesone is conscious of her presence. + +I shall be jealous when Tertius goes to Lowick, said Rosamond, +dimpling, and speaking with aery lightness. He will come back and +think nothing of me. + +That does not seem to have been the effect on Lydgate hitherto. Mrs. +Casaubon is too unlike other women for them to be compared with her. + +You are a devout worshipper, I perceive. You often see her, I +suppose. + +No, said Will, almost pettishly. Worship is usually a matter of +theory rather than of practice. But I am practising it to excess just +at this momentI must really tear myself away. + +Pray come again some evening: Mr. Lydgate will like to hear the music, +and I cannot enjoy it so well without him. + +When her husband was at home again, Rosamond said, standing in front of +him and holding his coat-collar with both her hands, Mr. Ladislaw was +here singing with me when Mrs. Casaubon came in. He seemed vexed. Do +you think he disliked her seeing him at our house? Surely your position +is more than equal to hiswhatever may be his relation to the +Casaubons. + +No, no; it must be something else if he were really vexed. Ladislaw is +a sort of gypsy; he thinks nothing of leather and prunella. + +Music apart, he is not always very agreeable. Do you like him? + +Yes: I think he is a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and +bric-a-brac, but likable. + +Do you know, I think he adores Mrs. Casaubon. + +Poor devil! said Lydgate, smiling and pinching his wifes ears. + +Rosamond felt herself beginning to know a great deal of the world, +especially in discovering what when she was in her unmarried girlhood +had been inconceivable to her except as a dim tragedy in by-gone +costumesthat women, even after marriage, might make conquests and +enslave men. At that time young ladies in the country, even when +educated at Mrs. Lemons, read little French literature later than +Racine, and public prints had not cast their present magnificent +illumination over the scandals of life. Still, vanity, with a womans +whole mind and day to work in, can construct abundantly on slight +hints, especially on such a hint as the possibility of indefinite +conquests. How delightful to make captives from the throne of marriage +with a husband as crown-prince by your sidehimself in fact a +subjectwhile the captives look up forever hopeless, losing their rest +probably, and if their appetite too, so much the better! But Rosamonds +romance turned at present chiefly on her crown-prince, and it was +enough to enjoy his assured subjection. When he said, Poor devil! she +asked, with playful curiosity + +Why so? + +Why, what can a man do when he takes to adoring one of you mermaids? +He only neglects his work and runs up bills. + +I am sure you do not neglect your work. You are always at the +Hospital, or seeing poor patients, or thinking about some doctors +quarrel; and then at home you always want to pore over your microscope +and phials. Confess you like those things better than me. + +Havent you ambition enough to wish that your husband should be +something better than a Middlemarch doctor? said Lydgate, letting his +hands fall on to his wifes shoulders, and looking at her with +affectionate gravity. I shall make you learn my favorite bit from an +old poet + +Why should our pride make such a stir to be +And be forgot? What good is like to this, +To do worthy the writing, and to write +Worthy the reading and the worlds delight? + + +What I want, Rosy, is to do worthy the writing,and to write out myself +what I have done. A man must work, to do that, my pet. + +Of course, I wish you to make discoveries: no one could more wish you +to attain a high position in some better place than Middlemarch. You +cannot say that I have ever tried to hinder you from working. But we +cannot live like hermits. You are not discontented with me, Tertius? + +No, dear, no. I am too entirely contented. + +But what did Mrs. Casaubon want to say to you? + +Merely to ask about her husbands health. But I think she is going to +be splendid to our New Hospital: I think she will give us two hundred +a-year. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +I would not creep along the coast but steer +Out in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars. + + +When Dorothea, walking round the laurel-planted plots of the New +Hospital with Lydgate, had learned from him that there were no signs of +change in Mr. Casaubons bodily condition beyond the mental sign of +anxiety to know the truth about his illness, she was silent for a few +moments, wondering whether she had said or done anything to rouse this +new anxiety. Lydgate, not willing to let slip an opportunity of +furthering a favorite purpose, ventured to say + +I dont know whether your or Mr. Casaubons attention has been drawn +to the needs of our New Hospital. Circumstances have made it seem +rather egotistic in me to urge the subject; but that is not my fault: +it is because there is a fight being made against it by the other +medical men. I think you are generally interested in such things, for I +remember that when I first had the pleasure of seeing you at Tipton +Grange before your marriage, you were asking me some questions about +the way in which the health of the poor was affected by their miserable +housing. + +Yes, indeed, said Dorothea, brightening. I shall be quite grateful +to you if you will tell me how I can help to make things a little +better. Everything of that sort has slipped away from me since I have +been married. I mean, she said, after a moments hesitation, that the +people in our village are tolerably comfortable, and my mind has been +too much taken up for me to inquire further. But herein such a place +as Middlemarchthere must be a great deal to be done. + +There is everything to be done, said Lydgate, with abrupt energy. +And this Hospital is a capital piece of work, due entirely to Mr. +Bulstrodes exertions, and in a great degree to his money. But one man +cant do everything in a scheme of this sort. Of course he looked +forward to help. And now theres a mean, petty feud set up against the +thing in the town, by certain persons who want to make it a failure. + +What can be their reasons? said Dorothea, with naive surprise. + +Chiefly Mr. Bulstrodes unpopularity, to begin with. Half the town +would almost take trouble for the sake of thwarting him. In this stupid +world most people never consider that a thing is good to be done unless +it is done by their own set. I had no connection with Bulstrode before +I came here. I look at him quite impartially, and I see that he has +some notionsthat he has set things on footwhich I can turn to good +public purpose. If a fair number of the better educated men went to +work with the belief that their observations might contribute to the +reform of medical doctrine and practice, we should soon see a change +for the better. Thats my point of view. I hold that by refusing to +work with Mr. Bulstrode I should be turning my back on an opportunity +of making my profession more generally serviceable. + +I quite agree with you, said Dorothea, at once fascinated by the +situation sketched in Lydgates words. But what is there against Mr. +Bulstrode? I know that my uncle is friendly with him. + +People dont like his religious tone, said Lydgate, breaking off +there. + +That is all the stronger reason for despising such an opposition, +said Dorothea, looking at the affairs of Middlemarch by the light of +the great persecutions. + +To put the matter quite fairly, they have other objections to him:he +is masterful and rather unsociable, and he is concerned with trade, +which has complaints of its own that I know nothing about. But what has +that to do with the question whether it would not be a fine thing to +establish here a more valuable hospital than any they have in the +county? The immediate motive to the opposition, however, is the fact +that Bulstrode has put the medical direction into my hands. Of course I +am glad of that. It gives me an opportunity of doing some good +work,and I am aware that I have to justify his choice of me. But the +consequence is, that the whole profession in Middlemarch have set +themselves tooth and nail against the Hospital, and not only refuse to +cooperate themselves, but try to blacken the whole affair and hinder +subscriptions. + +How very petty! exclaimed Dorothea, indignantly. + +I suppose one must expect to fight ones way: there is hardly anything +to be done without it. And the ignorance of people about here is +stupendous. I dont lay claim to anything else than having used some +opportunities which have not come within everybodys reach; but there +is no stifling the offence of being young, and a new-comer, and +happening to know something more than the old inhabitants. Still, if I +believe that I can set going a better method of treatmentif I believe +that I can pursue certain observations and inquiries which may be a +lasting benefit to medical practice, I should be a base truckler if I +allowed any consideration of personal comfort to hinder me. And the +course is all the clearer from there being no salary in question to put +my persistence in an equivocal light. + +I am glad you have told me this, Mr. Lydgate, said Dorothea, +cordially. I feel sure I can help a little. I have some money, and +dont know what to do with itthat is often an uncomfortable thought to +me. I am sure I can spare two hundred a-year for a grand purpose like +this. How happy you must be, to know things that you feel sure will do +great good! I wish I could awake with that knowledge every morning. +There seems to be so much trouble taken that one can hardly see the +good of! + +There was a melancholy cadence in Dorotheas voice as she spoke these +last words. But she presently added, more cheerfully, Pray come to +Lowick and tell us more of this. I will mention the subject to Mr. +Casaubon. I must hasten home now. + +She did mention it that evening, and said that she should like to +subscribe two hundred a-yearshe had seven hundred a-year as the +equivalent of her own fortune, settled on her at her marriage. Mr. +Casaubon made no objection beyond a passing remark that the sum might +be disproportionate in relation to other good objects, but when +Dorothea in her ignorance resisted that suggestion, he acquiesced. He +did not care himself about spending money, and was not reluctant to +give it. If he ever felt keenly any question of money it was through +the medium of another passion than the love of material property. + +Dorothea told him that she had seen Lydgate, and recited the gist of +her conversation with him about the Hospital. Mr. Casaubon did not +question her further, but he felt sure that she had wished to know what +had passed between Lydgate and himself. She knows that I know, said +the ever-restless voice within; but that increase of tacit knowledge +only thrust further off any confidence between them. He distrusted her +affection; and what loneliness is more lonely than distrust? + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +It is the humor of many heads to extol the days of their forefathers, +and declaim against the wickedness of times present. Which +notwithstanding they cannot handsomely do, without the borrowed help +and satire of times past; condemning the vices of their own times, by +the expressions of vices in times which they commend, which cannot but +argue the community of vice in both. Horace, therefore, Juvenal, and +Persius, were no prophets, although their lines did seem to indigitate +and point at our times.SIR THOMAS BROWNE: _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_. + + +That opposition to the New Fever Hospital which Lydgate had sketched to +Dorothea was, like other oppositions, to be viewed in many different +lights. He regarded it as a mixture of jealousy and dunderheaded +prejudice. Mr. Bulstrode saw in it not only medical jealousy but a +determination to thwart himself, prompted mainly by a hatred of that +vital religion of which he had striven to be an effectual lay +representativea hatred which certainly found pretexts apart from +religion such as were only too easy to find in the entanglements of +human action. These might be called the ministerial views. But +oppositions have the illimitable range of objections at command, which +need never stop short at the boundary of knowledge, but can draw +forever on the vasts of ignorance. What the opposition in Middlemarch +said about the New Hospital and its administration had certainly a +great deal of echo in it, for heaven has taken care that everybody +shall not be an originator; but there were differences which +represented every social shade between the polished moderation of Dr. +Minchin and the trenchant assertion of Mrs. Dollop, the landlady of the +Tankard in Slaughter Lane. + +Mrs. Dollop became more and more convinced by her own asseveration, +that Dr. Lydgate meant to let the people die in the Hospital, if not to +poison them, for the sake of cutting them up without saying by your +leave or with your leave; for it was a known fac that he had wanted +to cut up Mrs. Goby, as respectable a woman as any in Parley Street, +who had money in trust before her marriagea poor tale for a doctor, +who if he was good for anything should know what was the matter with +you before you died, and not want to pry into your inside after you +were gone. If that was not reason, Mrs. Dollop wished to know what was; +but there was a prevalent feeling in her audience that her opinion was +a bulwark, and that if it were overthrown there would be no limits to +the cutting-up of bodies, as had been well seen in Burke and Hare with +their pitch-plaisterssuch a hanging business as that was not wanted in +Middlemarch! + +And let it not be supposed that opinion at the Tankard in Slaughter +Lane was unimportant to the medical profession: that old authentic +public-housethe original Tankard, known by the name of Dollopswas +the resort of a great Benefit Club, which had some months before put to +the vote whether its long-standing medical man, Doctor Gambit, should +not be cashiered in favor of this Doctor Lydgate, who was capable of +performing the most astonishing cures, and rescuing people altogether +given up by other practitioners. But the balance had been turned +against Lydgate by two members, who for some private reasons held that +this power of resuscitating persons as good as dead was an equivocal +recommendation, and might interfere with providential favors. In the +course of the year, however, there had been a change in the public +sentiment, of which the unanimity at Dollops was an index. + +A good deal more than a year ago, before anything was known of +Lydgates skill, the judgments on it had naturally been divided, +depending on a sense of likelihood, situated perhaps in the pit of the +stomach or in the pineal gland, and differing in its verdicts, but not +the less valuable as a guide in the total deficit of evidence. Patients +who had chronic diseases or whose lives had long been worn threadbare, +like old Featherstones, had been at once inclined to try him; also, +many who did not like paying their doctors bills, thought agreeably of +opening an account with a new doctor and sending for him without stint +if the childrens temper wanted a dose, occasions when the old +practitioners were often crusty; and all persons thus inclined to +employ Lydgate held it likely that he was clever. Some considered that +he might do more than others where there was liver;at least there +would be no harm in getting a few bottles of stuff from him, since if +these proved useless it would still be possible to return to the +Purifying Pills, which kept you alive if they did not remove the +yellowness. But these were people of minor importance. Good Middlemarch +families were of course not going to change their doctor without reason +shown; and everybody who had employed Mr. Peacock did not feel obliged +to accept a new man merely in the character of his successor, objecting +that he was not likely to be equal to Peacock. + +But Lydgate had not been long in the town before there were particulars +enough reported of him to breed much more specific expectations and to +intensify differences into partisanship; some of the particulars being +of that impressive order of which the significance is entirely hidden, +like a statistical amount without a standard of comparison, but with a +note of exclamation at the end. The cubic feet of oxygen yearly +swallowed by a full-grown manwhat a shudder they might have created in +some Middlemarch circles! Oxygen! nobody knows what that may beis it +any wonder the cholera has got to Dantzic? And yet there are people who +say quarantine is no good! + +One of the facts quickly rumored was that Lydgate did not dispense +drugs. This was offensive both to the physicians whose exclusive +distinction seemed infringed on, and to the surgeon-apothecaries with +whom he ranged himself; and only a little while before, they might have +counted on having the law on their side against a man who without +calling himself a London-made M.D. dared to ask for pay except as a +charge on drugs. But Lydgate had not been experienced enough to foresee +that his new course would be even more offensive to the laity; and to +Mr. Mawmsey, an important grocer in the Top Market, who, though not one +of his patients, questioned him in an affable manner on the subject, he +was injudicious enough to give a hasty popular explanation of his +reasons, pointing out to Mr. Mawmsey that it must lower the character +of practitioners, and be a constant injury to the public, if their only +mode of getting paid for their work was by their making out long bills +for draughts, boluses, and mixtures. + +It is in that way that hard-working medical men may come to be almost +as mischievous as quacks, said Lydgate, rather thoughtlessly. To get +their own bread they must overdose the kings lieges; and thats a bad +sort of treason, Mr. Mawmseyundermines the constitution in a fatal +way. + +Mr. Mawmsey was not only an overseer (it was about a question of +outdoor pay that he was having an interview with Lydgate), he was also +asthmatic and had an increasing family: thus, from a medical point of +view, as well as from his own, he was an important man; indeed, an +exceptional grocer, whose hair was arranged in a flame-like pyramid, +and whose retail deference was of the cordial, encouraging +kindjocosely complimentary, and with a certain considerate abstinence +from letting out the full force of his mind. It was Mr. Mawmseys +friendly jocoseness in questioning him which had set the tone of +Lydgates reply. But let the wise be warned against too great readiness +at explanation: it multiplies the sources of mistake, lengthening the +sum for reckoners sure to go wrong. + +Lydgate smiled as he ended his speech, putting his foot into the +stirrup, and Mr. Mawmsey laughed more than he would have done if he had +known who the kings lieges were, giving his Good morning, sir, +good-morning, sir, with the air of one who saw everything clearly +enough. But in truth his views were perturbed. For years he had been +paying bills with strictly made items, so that for every half-crown and +eighteen-pence he was certain something measurable had been delivered. +He had done this with satisfaction, including it among his +responsibilities as a husband and father, and regarding a longer bill +than usual as a dignity worth mentioning. Moreover, in addition to the +massive benefit of the drugs to self and family, he had enjoyed the +pleasure of forming an acute judgment as to their immediate effects, so +as to give an intelligent statement for the guidance of Mr. Gambita +practitioner just a little lower in status than Wrench or Toller, and +especially esteemed as an accoucheur, of whose ability Mr. Mawmsey had +the poorest opinion on all other points, but in doctoring, he was wont +to say in an undertone, he placed Gambit above any of them. + +Here were deeper reasons than the superficial talk of a new man, which +appeared still flimsier in the drawing-room over the shop, when they +were recited to Mrs. Mawmsey, a woman accustomed to be made much of as +a fertile mother,generally under attendance more or less frequent from +Mr. Gambit, and occasionally having attacks which required Dr. Minchin. + +Does this Mr. Lydgate mean to say there is no use in taking medicine? +said Mrs. Mawmsey, who was slightly given to drawling. I should like +him to tell me how I could bear up at Fair time, if I didnt take +strengthening medicine for a month beforehand. Think of what I have to +provide for calling customers, my dear!here Mrs. Mawmsey turned to an +intimate female friend who sat bya large veal piea stuffed filleta +round of beefham, tongue, et cetera, et cetera! But what keeps me up +best is the pink mixture, not the brown. I wonder, Mr. Mawmsey, with +_your_ experience, you could have patience to listen. I should have +told him at once that I knew a little better than that. + +No, no, no, said Mr. Mawmsey; I was not going to tell him my +opinion. Hear everything and judge for yourself is my motto. But he +didnt know who he was talking to. I was not to be turned on _his_ +finger. People often pretend to tell me things, when they might as well +say, Mawmsey, youre a fool. But I smile at it: I humor everybodys +weak place. If physic had done harm to self and family, I should have +found it out by this time. + +The next day Mr. Gambit was told that Lydgate went about saying physic +was of no use. + +Indeed! said he, lifting his eyebrows with cautious surprise. (He was +a stout husky man with a large ring on his fourth finger.) How will he +cure his patients, then? + +That is what I say, returned Mrs. Mawmsey, who habitually gave weight +to her speech by loading her pronouns. Does _he_ suppose that people +will pay him only to come and sit with them and go away again? + +Mrs. Mawmsey had had a great deal of sitting from Mr. Gambit, including +very full accounts of his own habits of body and other affairs; but of +course he knew there was no innuendo in her remark, since his spare +time and personal narrative had never been charged for. So he replied, +humorously + +Well, Lydgate is a good-looking young fellow, you know. + +Not one that _I_ would employ, said Mrs. Mawmsey. _Others_ may do as +they please. + +Hence Mr. Gambit could go away from the chief grocers without fear of +rivalry, but not without a sense that Lydgate was one of those +hypocrites who try to discredit others by advertising their own +honesty, and that it might be worth some peoples while to show him up. +Mr. Gambit, however, had a satisfactory practice, much pervaded by the +smells of retail trading which suggested the reduction of cash payments +to a balance. And he did not think it worth his while to show Lydgate +up until he knew how. He had not indeed great resources of education, +and had had to work his own way against a good deal of professional +contempt; but he made none the worse accoucheur for calling the +breathing apparatus longs. + +Other medical men felt themselves more capable. Mr. Toller shared the +highest practice in the town and belonged to an old Middlemarch family: +there were Tollers in the law and everything else above the line of +retail trade. Unlike our irascible friend Wrench, he had the easiest +way in the world of taking things which might be supposed to annoy him, +being a well-bred, quietly facetious man, who kept a good house, was +very fond of a little sporting when he could get it, very friendly with +Mr. Hawley, and hostile to Mr. Bulstrode. It may seem odd that with +such pleasant habits he should have been given to the heroic treatment, +bleeding and blistering and starving his patients, with a dispassionate +disregard to his personal example; but the incongruity favored the +opinion of his ability among his patients, who commonly observed that +Mr. Toller had lazy manners, but his treatment was as active as you +could desire: no man, said they, carried more seriousness into his +profession: he was a little slow in coming, but when he came, he _did_ +something. He was a great favorite in his own circle, and whatever he +implied to any ones disadvantage told doubly from his careless +ironical tone. + +He naturally got tired of smiling and saying, Ah! when he was told +that Mr. Peacocks successor did not mean to dispense medicines; and +Mr. Hackbutt one day mentioning it over the wine at a dinner-party, Mr. +Toller said, laughingly, Dibbitts will get rid of his stale drugs, +then. Im fond of little DibbittsIm glad hes in luck. + +I see your meaning, Toller, said Mr. Hackbutt, and I am entirely of +your opinion. I shall take an opportunity of expressing myself to that +effect. A medical man should be responsible for the quality of the +drugs consumed by his patients. That is the rationale of the system of +charging which has hitherto obtained; and nothing is more offensive +than this ostentation of reform, where there is no real amelioration. + +Ostentation, Hackbutt? said Mr. Toller, ironically. I dont see +that. A man cant very well be ostentatious of what nobody believes in. +Theres no reform in the matter: the question is, whether the profit on +the drugs is paid to the medical man by the druggist or by the patient, +and whether there shall be extra pay under the name of attendance. + +Ah, to be sure; one of your damned new versions of old humbug, said +Mr. Hawley, passing the decanter to Mr. Wrench. + +Mr. Wrench, generally abstemious, often drank wine rather freely at a +party, getting the more irritable in consequence. + +As to humbug, Hawley, he said, thats a word easy to fling about. +But what I contend against is the way medical men are fouling their own +nest, and setting up a cry about the country as if a general +practitioner who dispenses drugs couldnt be a gentleman. I throw back +the imputation with scorn. I say, the most ungentlemanly trick a man +can be guilty of is to come among the members of his profession with +innovations which are a libel on their time-honored procedure. That is +my opinion, and I am ready to maintain it against any one who +contradicts me. Mr. Wrenchs voice had become exceedingly sharp. + +I cant oblige you there, Wrench, said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his +hands into his trouser-pockets. + +My dear fellow, said Mr. Toller, striking in pacifically, and looking +at Mr. Wrench, the physicians have their toes trodden on more than we +have. If you come to dignity it is a question for Minchin and Sprague. + +Does medical jurisprudence provide nothing against these +infringements? said Mr. Hackbutt, with a disinterested desire to offer +his lights. How does the law stand, eh, Hawley? + +Nothing to be done there, said Mr. Hawley. I looked into it for +Sprague. Youd only break your nose against a damned judges decision. + +Pooh! no need of law, said Mr. Toller. So far as practice is +concerned the attempt is an absurdity. No patient will like +itcertainly not Peacocks, who have been used to depletion. Pass the +wine. + +Mr. Tollers prediction was partly verified. If Mr. and Mrs. Mawmsey, +who had no idea of employing Lydgate, were made uneasy by his supposed +declaration against drugs, it was inevitable that those who called him +in should watch a little anxiously to see whether he did use all the +means he might use in the case. Even good Mr. Powderell, who in his +constant charity of interpretation was inclined to esteem Lydgate the +more for what seemed a conscientious pursuit of a better plan, had his +mind disturbed with doubts during his wifes attack of erysipelas, and +could not abstain from mentioning to Lydgate that Mr. Peacock on a +similar occasion had administered a series of boluses which were not +otherwise definable than by their remarkable effect in bringing Mrs. +Powderell round before Michaelmas from an illness which had begun in a +remarkably hot August. At last, indeed, in the conflict between his +desire not to hurt Lydgate and his anxiety that no means should be +lacking, he induced his wife privately to take Widgeons Purifying +Pills, an esteemed Middlemarch medicine, which arrested every disease +at the fountain by setting to work at once upon the blood. This +co-operative measure was not to be mentioned to Lydgate, and Mr. +Powderell himself had no certain reliance on it, only hoping that it +might be attended with a blessing. + +But in this doubtful stage of Lydgates introduction he was helped by +what we mortals rashly call good fortune. I suppose no doctor ever came +newly to a place without making cures that surprised somebodycures +which may be called fortunes testimonials, and deserve as much credit +as the written or printed kind. Various patients got well while Lydgate +was attending them, some even of dangerous illnesses; and it was +remarked that the new doctor with his new ways had at least the merit +of bringing people back from the brink of death. The trash talked on +such occasions was the more vexatious to Lydgate, because it gave +precisely the sort of prestige which an incompetent and unscrupulous +man would desire, and was sure to be imputed to him by the simmering +dislike of the other medical men as an encouragement on his own part of +ignorant puffing. But even his proud outspokenness was checked by the +discernment that it was as useless to fight against the interpretations +of ignorance as to whip the fog; and good fortune insisted on using +those interpretations. + +Mrs. Larcher having just become charitably concerned about alarming +symptoms in her charwoman, when Dr. Minchin called, asked him to see +her then and there, and to give her a certificate for the Infirmary; +whereupon after examination he wrote a statement of the case as one of +tumor, and recommended the bearer Nancy Nash as an out-patient. Nancy, +calling at home on her way to the Infirmary, allowed the stay maker and +his wife, in whose attic she lodged, to read Dr. Minchins paper, and +by this means became a subject of compassionate conversation in the +neighboring shops of Churchyard Lane as being afflicted with a tumor at +first declared to be as large and hard as a ducks egg, but later in +the day to be about the size of your fist. Most hearers agreed that +it would have to be cut out, but one had known of oil and another of +squitchineal as adequate to soften and reduce any lump in the body +when taken enough of into the insidethe oil by gradually soopling, +the squitchineal by eating away. + +Meanwhile when Nancy presented herself at the Infirmary, it happened to +be one of Lydgates days there. After questioning and examining her, +Lydgate said to the house-surgeon in an undertone, Its not tumor: +its cramp. He ordered her a blister and some steel mixture, and told +her to go home and rest, giving her at the same time a note to Mrs. +Larcher, who, she said, was her best employer, to testify that she was +in need of good food. + +But by-and-by Nancy, in her attic, became portentously worse, the +supposed tumor having indeed given way to the blister, but only +wandered to another region with angrier pain. The staymakers wife went +to fetch Lydgate, and he continued for a fortnight to attend Nancy in +her own home, until under his treatment she got quite well and went to +work again. But the case continued to be described as one of tumor in +Churchyard Lane and other streetsnay, by Mrs. Larcher also; for when +Lydgates remarkable cure was mentioned to Dr. Minchin, he naturally +did not like to say, The case was not one of tumor, and I was mistaken +in describing it as such, but answered, Indeed! ah! I saw it was a +surgical case, not of a fatal kind. He had been inwardly annoyed, +however, when he had asked at the Infirmary about the woman he had +recommended two days before, to hear from the house-surgeon, a +youngster who was not sorry to vex Minchin with impunity, exactly what +had occurred: he privately pronounced that it was indecent in a general +practitioner to contradict a physicians diagnosis in that open manner, +and afterwards agreed with Wrench that Lydgate was disagreeably +inattentive to etiquette. Lydgate did not make the affair a ground for +valuing himself or (very particularly) despising Minchin, such +rectification of misjudgments often happening among men of equal +qualifications. But report took up this amazing case of tumor, not +clearly distinguished from cancer, and considered the more awful for +being of the wandering sort; till much prejudice against Lydgates +method as to drugs was overcome by the proof of his marvellous skill in +the speedy restoration of Nancy Nash after she had been rolling and +rolling in agonies from the presence of a tumor both hard and +obstinate, but nevertheless compelled to yield. + +How could Lydgate help himself? It is offensive to tell a lady when she +is expressing her amazement at your skill, that she is altogether +mistaken and rather foolish in her amazement. And to have entered into +the nature of diseases would only have added to his breaches of medical +propriety. Thus he had to wince under a promise of success given by +that ignorant praise which misses every valid quality. + +In the case of a more conspicuous patient, Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, +Lydgate was conscious of having shown himself something better than an +every-day doctor, though here too it was an equivocal advantage that he +won. The eloquent auctioneer was seized with pneumonia, and having been +a patient of Mr. Peacocks, sent for Lydgate, whom he had expressed his +intention to patronize. Mr Trumbull was a robust man, a good subject +for trying the expectant theory uponwatching the course of an +interesting disease when left as much as possible to itself, so that +the stages might be noted for future guidance; and from the air with +which he described his sensations Lydgate surmised that he would like +to be taken into his medical mans confidence, and be represented as a +partner in his own cure. The auctioneer heard, without much surprise, +that his was a constitution which (always with due watching) might be +left to itself, so as to offer a beautiful example of a disease with +all its phases seen in clear delineation, and that he probably had the +rare strength of mind voluntarily to become the test of a rational +procedure, and thus make the disorder of his pulmonary functions a +general benefit to society. + +Mr. Trumbull acquiesced at once, and entered strongly into the view +that an illness of his was no ordinary occasion for medical science. + +Never fear, sir; you are not speaking to one who is altogether +ignorant of the _vis medicatrix_, said he, with his usual superiority +of expression, made rather pathetic by difficulty of breathing. And he +went without shrinking through his abstinence from drugs, much +sustained by application of the thermometer which implied the +importance of his temperature, by the sense that he furnished objects +for the microscope, and by learning many new words which seemed suited +to the dignity of his secretions. For Lydgate was acute enough to +indulge him with a little technical talk. + +It may be imagined that Mr. Trumbull rose from his couch with a +disposition to speak of an illness in which he had manifested the +strength of his mind as well as constitution; and he was not backward +in awarding credit to the medical man who had discerned the quality of +patient he had to deal with. The auctioneer was not an ungenerous man, +and liked to give others their due, feeling that he could afford it. He +had caught the words expectant method, and rang chimes on this and +other learned phrases to accompany the assurance that Lydgate knew a +thing or two more than the rest of the doctorswas far better versed in +the secrets of his profession than the majority of his compeers. + +This had happened before the affair of Fred Vincys illness had given +to Mr. Wrenchs enmity towards Lydgate more definite personal ground. +The new-comer already threatened to be a nuisance in the shape of +rivalry, and was certainly a nuisance in the shape of practical +criticism or reflections on his hard-driven elders, who had had +something else to do than to busy themselves with untried notions. His +practice had spread in one or two quarters, and from the first the +report of his high family had led to his being pretty generally +invited, so that the other medical men had to meet him at dinner in the +best houses; and having to meet a man whom you dislike is not observed +always to end in a mutual attachment. There was hardly ever so much +unanimity among them as in the opinion that Lydgate was an arrogant +young fellow, and yet ready for the sake of ultimately predominating to +show a crawling subservience to Bulstrode. That Mr. Farebrother, whose +name was a chief flag of the anti-Bulstrode party, always defended +Lydgate and made a friend of him, was referred to Farebrothers +unaccountable way of fighting on both sides. + +Here was plenty of preparation for the outburst of professional disgust +at the announcement of the laws Mr. Bulstrode was laying down for the +direction of the New Hospital, which were the more exasperating because +there was no present possibility of interfering with his will and +pleasure, everybody except Lord Medlicote having refused help towards +the building, on the ground that they preferred giving to the Old +Infirmary. Mr. Bulstrode met all the expenses, and had ceased to be +sorry that he was purchasing the right to carry out his notions of +improvement without hindrance from prejudiced coadjutors; but he had +had to spend large sums, and the building had lingered. Caleb Garth had +undertaken it, had failed during its progress, and before the interior +fittings were begun had retired from the management of the business; +and when referring to the Hospital he often said that however Bulstrode +might ring if you tried him, he liked good solid carpentry and masonry, +and had a notion both of drains and chimneys. In fact, the Hospital had +become an object of intense interest to Bulstrode, and he would +willingly have continued to spare a large yearly sum that he might rule +it dictatorially without any Board; but he had another favorite object +which also required money for its accomplishment: he wished to buy some +land in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, and therefore he wished to get +considerable contributions towards maintaining the Hospital. Meanwhile +he framed his plan of management. The Hospital was to be reserved for +fever in all its forms; Lydgate was to be chief medical superintendent, +that he might have free authority to pursue all comparative +investigations which his studies, particularly in Paris, had shown him +the importance of, the other medical visitors having a consultative +influence, but no power to contravene Lydgates ultimate decisions; and +the general management was to be lodged exclusively in the hands of +five directors associated with Mr. Bulstrode, who were to have votes in +the ratio of their contributions, the Board itself filling up any +vacancy in its numbers, and no mob of small contributors being admitted +to a share of government. + +There was an immediate refusal on the part of every medical man in the +town to become a visitor at the Fever Hospital. + +Very well, said Lydgate to Mr. Bulstrode, we have a capital +house-surgeon and dispenser, a clear-headed, neat-handed fellow; well +get Webbe from Crabsley, as good a country practitioner as any of them, +to come over twice a-week, and in case of any exceptional operation, +Protheroe will come from Brassing. I must work the harder, thats all, +and I have given up my post at the Infirmary. The plan will flourish in +spite of them, and then theyll be glad to come in. Things cant last +as they are: there must be all sorts of reform soon, and then young +fellows may be glad to come and study here. Lydgate was in high +spirits. + +I shall not flinch, you may depend upon it, Mr. Lydgate, said Mr. +Bulstrode. While I see you carrying out high intentions with vigor, +you shall have my unfailing support. And I have humble confidence that +the blessing which has hitherto attended my efforts against the spirit +of evil in this town will not be withdrawn. Suitable directors to +assist me I have no doubt of securing. Mr. Brooke of Tipton has already +given me his concurrence, and a pledge to contribute yearly: he has not +specified the sumprobably not a great one. But he will be a useful +member of the board. + +A useful member was perhaps to be defined as one who would originate +nothing, and always vote with Mr. Bulstrode. + +The medical aversion to Lydgate was hardly disguised now. Neither Dr. +Sprague nor Dr. Minchin said that he disliked Lydgates knowledge, or +his disposition to improve treatment: what they disliked was his +arrogance, which nobody felt to be altogether deniable. They implied +that he was insolent, pretentious, and given to that reckless +innovation for the sake of noise and show which was the essence of the +charlatan. + +The word charlatan once thrown on the air could not be let drop. In +those days the world was agitated about the wondrous doings of Mr. St. +John Long, noblemen and gentlemen attesting his extraction of a fluid +like mercury from the temples of a patient. + +Mr. Toller remarked one day, smilingly, to Mrs. Taft, that Bulstrode +had found a man to suit him in Lydgate; a charlatan in religion is sure +to like other sorts of charlatans. + +Yes, indeed, I can imagine, said Mrs. Taft, keeping the number of +thirty stitches carefully in her mind all the while; there are so many +of that sort. I remember Mr. Cheshire, with his irons, trying to make +people straight when the Almighty had made them crooked. + +No, no, said Mr. Toller, Cheshire was all rightall fair and above +board. But theres St. John Longthats the kind of fellow we call a +charlatan, advertising cures in ways nobody knows anything about: a +fellow who wants to make a noise by pretending to go deeper than other +people. The other day he was pretending to tap a mans brain and get +quicksilver out of it. + +Good gracious! what dreadful trifling with peoples constitutions! +said Mrs. Taft. + +After this, it came to be held in various quarters that Lydgate played +even with respectable constitutions for his own purposes, and how much +more likely that in his flighty experimenting he should make sixes and +sevens of hospital patients. Especially it was to be expected, as the +landlady of the Tankard had said, that he would recklessly cut up their +dead bodies. For Lydgate having attended Mrs. Goby, who died apparently +of a heart-disease not very clearly expressed in the symptoms, too +daringly asked leave of her relatives to open the body, and thus gave +an offence quickly spreading beyond Parley Street, where that lady had +long resided on an income such as made this association of her body +with the victims of Burke and Hare a flagrant insult to her memory. + +Affairs were in this stage when Lydgate opened the subject of the +Hospital to Dorothea. We see that he was bearing enmity and silly +misconception with much spirit, aware that they were partly created by +his good share of success. + +They will not drive me away, he said, talking confidentially in Mr. +Farebrothers study. I have got a good opportunity here, for the ends +I care most about; and I am pretty sure to get income enough for our +wants. By-and-by I shall go on as quietly as possible: I have no +seductions now away from home and work. And I am more and more +convinced that it will be possible to demonstrate the homogeneous +origin of all the tissues. Raspail and others are on the same track, +and I have been losing time. + +I have no power of prophecy there, said Mr. Farebrother, who had been +puffing at his pipe thoughtfully while Lydgate talked; but as to the +hostility in the town, youll weather it if you are prudent. + +How am I to be prudent? said Lydgate, I just do what comes before me +to do. I cant help peoples ignorance and spite, any more than +Vesalius could. It isnt possible to square ones conduct to silly +conclusions which nobody can foresee. + +Quite true; I didnt mean that. I meant only two things. One is, keep +yourself as separable from Bulstrode as you can: of course, you can go +on doing good work of your own by his help; but dont get tied. Perhaps +it seems like personal feeling in me to say soand theres a good deal +of that, I ownbut personal feeling is not always in the wrong if you +boil it down to the impressions which make it simply an opinion. + +Bulstrode is nothing to me, said Lydgate, carelessly, except on +public grounds. As to getting very closely united to him, I am not fond +enough of him for that. But what was the other thing you meant? said +Lydgate, who was nursing his leg as comfortably as possible, and +feeling in no great need of advice. + +Why, this. Take care_experto crede_take care not to get hampered +about money matters. I know, by a word you let fall one day, that you +dont like my playing at cards so much for money. You are right enough +there. But try and keep clear of wanting small sums that you havent +got. I am perhaps talking rather superfluously; but a man likes to +assume superiority over himself, by holding up his bad example and +sermonizing on it. + +Lydgate took Mr. Farebrothers hints very cordially, though he would +hardly have borne them from another man. He could not help remembering +that he had lately made some debts, but these had seemed inevitable, +and he had no intention now to do more than keep house in a simple way. +The furniture for which he owed would not want renewing; nor even the +stock of wine for a long while. + +Many thoughts cheered him at that timeand justly. A man conscious of +enthusiasm for worthy aims is sustained under petty hostilities by the +memory of great workers who had to fight their way not without wounds, +and who hover in his mind as patron saints, invisibly helping. At home, +that same evening when he had been chatting with Mr. Farebrother, he +had his long legs stretched on the sofa, his head thrown back, and his +hands clasped behind it according to his favorite ruminating attitude, +while Rosamond sat at the piano, and played one tune after another, of +which her husband only knew (like the emotional elephant he was!) that +they fell in with his mood as if they had been melodious sea-breezes. + +There was something very fine in Lydgates look just then, and any one +might have been encouraged to bet on his achievement. In his dark eyes +and on his mouth and brow there was that placidity which comes from the +fulness of contemplative thoughtthe mind not searching, but beholding, +and the glance seeming to be filled with what is behind it. + +Presently Rosamond left the piano and seated herself on a chair close +to the sofa and opposite her husbands face. + +Is that enough music for you, my lord? she said, folding her hands +before her and putting on a little air of meekness. + +Yes, dear, if you are tired, said Lydgate, gently, turning his eyes +and resting them on her, but not otherwise moving. Rosamonds presence +at that moment was perhaps no more than a spoonful brought to the lake, +and her womans instinct in this matter was not dull. + +What is absorbing you? she said, leaning forward and bringing her +face nearer to his. + +He moved his hands and placed them gently behind her shoulders. + +I am thinking of a great fellow, who was about as old as I am three +hundred years ago, and had already begun a new era in anatomy. + +I cant guess, said Rosamond, shaking her head. We used to play at +guessing historical characters at Mrs. Lemons, but not anatomists. + +Ill tell you. His name was Vesalius. And the only way he could get to +know anatomy as he did, was by going to snatch bodies at night, from +graveyards and places of execution. + +Oh! said Rosamond, with a look of disgust on her pretty face, I am +very glad you are not Vesalius. I should have thought he might find +some less horrible way than that. + +No, he couldnt, said Lydgate, going on too earnestly to take much +notice of her answer. He could only get a complete skeleton by +snatching the whitened bones of a criminal from the gallows, and +burying them, and fetching them away by bits secretly, in the dead of +night. + +I hope he is not one of your great heroes, said Rosamond, half +playfully, half anxiously, else I shall have you getting up in the +night to go to St. Peters churchyard. You know how angry you told me +the people were about Mrs. Goby. You have enemies enough already. + +So had Vesalius, Rosy. No wonder the medical fogies in Middlemarch are +jealous, when some of the greatest doctors living were fierce upon +Vesalius because they had believed in Galen, and he showed that Galen +was wrong. They called him a liar and a poisonous monster. But the +facts of the human frame were on his side; and so he got the better of +them. + +And what happened to him afterwards? said Rosamond, with some +interest. + +Oh, he had a good deal of fighting to the last. And they did +exasperate him enough at one time to make him burn a good deal of his +work. Then he got shipwrecked just as he was coming from Jerusalem to +take a great chair at Padua. He died rather miserably. + +There was a moments pause before Rosamond said, Do you know, Tertius, +I often wish you had not been a medical man. + +Nay, Rosy, dont say that, said Lydgate, drawing her closer to him. +That is like saying you wish you had married another man. + +Not at all; you are clever enough for anything: you might easily have +been something else. And your cousins at Quallingham all think that you +have sunk below them in your choice of a profession. + +The cousins at Quallingham may go to the devil! said Lydgate, with +scorn. It was like their impudence if they said anything of the sort +to you. + +Still, said Rosamond, I do _not_ think it is a nice profession, +dear. We know that she had much quiet perseverance in her opinion. + +It is the grandest profession in the world, Rosamond, said Lydgate, +gravely. And to say that you love me without loving the medical man in +me, is the same sort of thing as to say that you like eating a peach +but dont like its flavor. Dont say that again, dear, it pains me. + +Very well, Doctor Grave-face, said Rosy, dimpling, I will declare in +future that I dote on skeletons, and body-snatchers, and bits of things +in phials, and quarrels with everybody, that end in your dying +miserably. + +No, no, not so bad as that, said Lydgate, giving up remonstrance and +petting her resignedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +Pues no podemos haber aquello que queremos, queramos aquello que +podremos. + +Since we cannot get what we like, let us like what we can get._Spanish +Proverb_. + + +While Lydgate, safely married and with the Hospital under his command, +felt himself struggling for Medical Reform against Middlemarch, +Middlemarch was becoming more and more conscious of the national +struggle for another kind of Reform. + +By the time that Lord John Russells measure was being debated in the +House of Commons, there was a new political animation in Middlemarch, +and a new definition of parties which might show a decided change of +balance if a new election came. And there were some who already +predicted this event, declaring that a Reform Bill would never be +carried by the actual Parliament. This was what Will Ladislaw dwelt on +to Mr. Brooke as a reason for congratulation that he had not yet tried +his strength at the hustings. + +Things will grow and ripen as if it were a comet year, said Will. +The public temper will soon get to a cometary heat, now the question +of Reform has set in. There is likely to be another election before +long, and by that time Middlemarch will have got more ideas into its +head. What we have to work at now is the Pioneer and political +meetings. + +Quite right, Ladislaw; we shall make a new thing of opinion here, +said Mr. Brooke. Only I want to keep myself independent about Reform, +you know; I dont want to go too far. I want to take up Wilberforces +and Romillys line, you know, and work at Negro Emancipation, Criminal +Lawthat kind of thing. But of course I should support Grey. + +If you go in for the principle of Reform, you must be prepared to take +what the situation offers, said Will. If everybody pulled for his own +bit against everybody else, the whole question would go to tatters. + +Yes, yes, I agree with youI quite take that point of view. I should +put it in that light. I should support Grey, you know. But I dont want +to change the balance of the constitution, and I dont think Grey +would. + +But that is what the country wants, said Will. Else there would be +no meaning in political unions or any other movement that knows what +its about. It wants to have a House of Commons which is not weighted +with nominees of the landed class, but with representatives of the +other interests. And as to contending for a reform short of that, it is +like asking for a bit of an avalanche which has already begun to +thunder. + +That is fine, Ladislaw: that is the way to put it. Write that down, +now. We must begin to get documents about the feeling of the country, +as well as the machine-breaking and general distress. + +As to documents, said Will, a two-inch card will hold plenty. A few +rows of figures are enough to deduce misery from, and a few more will +show the rate at which the political determination of the people is +growing. + +Good: draw that out a little more at length, Ladislaw. That is an +idea, now: write it out in the Pioneer. Put the figures and deduce +the misery, you know; and put the other figures and deduceand so on. +You have a way of putting things. Burke, now:when I think of Burke, I +cant help wishing somebody had a pocket-borough to give you, Ladislaw. +Youd never get elected, you know. And we shall always want talent in +the House: reform as we will, we shall always want talent. That +avalanche and the thunder, now, was really a little like Burke. I want +that sort of thingnot ideas, you know, but a way of putting them. + +Pocket-boroughs would be a fine thing, said Ladislaw, if they were +always in the right pocket, and there were always a Burke at hand. + +Will was not displeased with that complimentary comparison, even from +Mr. Brooke; for it is a little too trying to human flesh to be +conscious of expressing ones self better than others and never to have +it noticed, and in the general dearth of admiration for the right +thing, even a chance bray of applause falling exactly in time is rather +fortifying. Will felt that his literary refinements were usually beyond +the limits of Middlemarch perception; nevertheless, he was beginning +thoroughly to like the work of which when he began he had said to +himself rather languidly, Why not?and he studied the political +situation with as ardent an interest as he had ever given to poetic +metres or mediaevalism. It is undeniable that but for the desire to be +where Dorothea was, and perhaps the want of knowing what else to do, +Will would not at this time have been meditating on the needs of the +English people or criticising English statesmanship: he would probably +have been rambling in Italy sketching plans for several dramas, trying +prose and finding it too jejune, trying verse and finding it too +artificial, beginning to copy bits from old pictures, leaving off +because they were no good, and observing that, after all, +self-culture was the principal point; while in politics he would have +been sympathizing warmly with liberty and progress in general. Our +sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place +of dilettanteism and make us feel that the quality of our action is not +a matter of indifference. + +Ladislaw had now accepted his bit of work, though it was not that +indeterminate loftiest thing which he had once dreamed of as alone +worthy of continuous effort. His nature warmed easily in the presence +of subjects which were visibly mixed with life and action, and the +easily stirred rebellion in him helped the glow of public spirit. In +spite of Mr. Casaubon and the banishment from Lowick, he was rather +happy; getting a great deal of fresh knowledge in a vivid way and for +practical purposes, and making the Pioneer celebrated as far as +Brassing (never mind the smallness of the area; the writing was not +worse than much that reaches the four corners of the earth). + +Mr. Brooke was occasionally irritating; but Wills impatience was +relieved by the division of his time between visits to the Grange and +retreats to his Middlemarch lodgings, which gave variety to his life. + +Shift the pegs a little, he said to himself, and Mr. Brooke might be +in the Cabinet, while I was Under-Secretary. That is the common order +of things: the little waves make the large ones and are of the same +pattern. I am better here than in the sort of life Mr. Casaubon would +have trained me for, where the doing would be all laid down by a +precedent too rigid for me to react upon. I dont care for prestige or +high pay. + +As Lydgate had said of him, he was a sort of gypsy, rather enjoying the +sense of belonging to no class; he had a feeling of romance in his +position, and a pleasant consciousness of creating a little surprise +wherever he went. That sort of enjoyment had been disturbed when he had +felt some new distance between himself and Dorothea in their accidental +meeting at Lydgates, and his irritation had gone out towards Mr. +Casaubon, who had declared beforehand that Will would lose caste. I +never had any caste, he would have said, if that prophecy had been +uttered to him, and the quick blood would have come and gone like +breath in his transparent skin. But it is one thing to like defiance, +and another thing to like its consequences. + +Meanwhile, the town opinion about the new editor of the Pioneer was +tending to confirm Mr. Casaubons view. Wills relationship in that +distinguished quarter did not, like Lydgates high connections, serve +as an advantageous introduction: if it was rumored that young Ladislaw +was Mr. Casaubons nephew or cousin, it was also rumored that Mr. +Casaubon would have nothing to do with him. + +Brooke has taken him up, said Mr. Hawley, because that is what no +man in his senses could have expected. Casaubon has devilish good +reasons, you may be sure, for turning the cold shoulder on a young +fellow whose bringing-up he paid for. Just like Brookeone of those +fellows who would praise a cat to sell a horse. + +And some oddities of Wills, more or less poetical, appeared to support +Mr. Keck, the editor of the Trumpet, in asserting that Ladislaw, if +the truth were known, was not only a Polish emissary but crack-brained, +which accounted for the preternatural quickness and glibness of his +speech when he got on to a platformas he did whenever he had an +opportunity, speaking with a facility which cast reflections on solid +Englishmen generally. It was disgusting to Keck to see a strip of a +fellow, with light curls round his head, get up and speechify by the +hour against institutions which had existed when he was in his +cradle. And in a leading article of the Trumpet, Keck characterized +Ladislaws speech at a Reform meeting as the violence of an +energumena miserable effort to shroud in the brilliancy of fireworks +the daring of irresponsible statements and the poverty of a knowledge +which was of the cheapest and most recent description. + +That was a rattling article yesterday, Keck, said Dr. Sprague, with +sarcastic intentions. But what is an energumen? + +Oh, a term that came up in the French Revolution, said Keck. + +This dangerous aspect of Ladislaw was strangely contrasted with other +habits which became matter of remark. He had a fondness, half artistic, +half affectionate, for little childrenthe smaller they were on +tolerably active legs, and the funnier their clothing, the better Will +liked to surprise and please them. We know that in Rome he was given to +ramble about among the poor people, and the taste did not quit him in +Middlemarch. + +He had somehow picked up a troop of droll children, little hatless boys +with their galligaskins much worn and scant shirting to hang out, +little girls who tossed their hair out of their eyes to look at him, +and guardian brothers at the mature age of seven. This troop he had led +out on gypsy excursions to Halsell Wood at nutting-time, and since the +cold weather had set in he had taken them on a clear day to gather +sticks for a bonfire in the hollow of a hillside, where he drew out a +small feast of gingerbread for them, and improvised a Punch-and-Judy +drama with some private home-made puppets. Here was one oddity. Another +was, that in houses where he got friendly, he was given to stretch +himself at full length on the rug while he talked, and was apt to be +discovered in this attitude by occasional callers for whom such an +irregularity was likely to confirm the notions of his dangerously mixed +blood and general laxity. + +But Wills articles and speeches naturally recommended him in families +which the new strictness of party division had marked off on the side +of Reform. He was invited to Mr. Bulstrodes; but here he could not lie +down on the rug, and Mrs. Bulstrode felt that his mode of talking about +Catholic countries, as if there were any truce with Antichrist, +illustrated the usual tendency to unsoundness in intellectual men. + +At Mr. Farebrothers, however, whom the irony of events had brought on +the same side with Bulstrode in the national movement, Will became a +favorite with the ladies; especially with little Miss Noble, whom it +was one of his oddities to escort when he met her in the street with +her little basket, giving her his arm in the eyes of the town, and +insisting on going with her to pay some call where she distributed her +small filchings from her own share of sweet things. + +But the house where he visited oftenest and lay most on the rug was +Lydgates. The two men were not at all alike, but they agreed none the +worse. Lydgate was abrupt but not irritable, taking little notice of +megrims in healthy people; and Ladislaw did not usually throw away his +susceptibilities on those who took no notice of them. With Rosamond, on +the other hand, he pouted and was waywardnay, often uncomplimentary, +much to her inward surprise; nevertheless he was gradually becoming +necessary to her entertainment by his companionship in her music, his +varied talk, and his freedom from the grave preoccupation which, with +all her husbands tenderness and indulgence, often made his manners +unsatisfactory to her, and confirmed her dislike of the medical +profession. + +Lydgate, inclined to be sarcastic on the superstitious faith of the +people in the efficacy of the bill, while nobody cared about the low +state of pathology, sometimes assailed Will with troublesome questions. +One evening in March, Rosamond in her cherry-colored dress with +swansdown trimming about the throat sat at the tea-table; Lydgate, +lately come in tired from his outdoor work, was seated sideways on an +easy-chair by the fire with one leg over the elbow, his brow looking a +little troubled as his eyes rambled over the columns of the Pioneer, +while Rosamond, having noticed that he was perturbed, avoided looking +at him, and inwardly thanked heaven that she herself had not a moody +disposition. Will Ladislaw was stretched on the rug contemplating the +curtain-pole abstractedly, and humming very low the notes of When +first I saw thy face; while the house spaniel, also stretched out with +small choice of room, looked from between his paws at the usurper of +the rug with silent but strong objection. + +Rosamond bringing Lydgate his cup of tea, he threw down the paper, and +said to Will, who had started up and gone to the table + +Its no use your puffing Brooke as a reforming landlord, Ladislaw: +they only pick the more holes in his coat in the Trumpet. + +No matter; those who read the Pioneer dont read the Trumpet, +said Will, swallowing his tea and walking about. Do you suppose the +public reads with a view to its own conversion? We should have a +witches brewing with a vengeance thenMingle, mingle, mingle, mingle, +You that mingle mayand nobody would know which side he was going to +take. + +Farebrother says, he doesnt believe Brooke would get elected if the +opportunity came: the very men who profess to be for him would bring +another member out of the bag at the right moment. + +Theres no harm in trying. Its good to have resident members. + +Why? said Lydgate, who was much given to use that inconvenient word +in a curt tone. + +They represent the local stupidity better, said Will, laughing, and +shaking his curls; and they are kept on their best behavior in the +neighborhood. Brooke is not a bad fellow, but he has done some good +things on his estate that he never would have done but for this +Parliamentary bite. + +Hes not fitted to be a public man, said Lydgate, with contemptuous +decision. He would disappoint everybody who counted on him: I can see +that at the Hospital. Only, there Bulstrode holds the reins and drives +him. + +That depends on how you fix your standard of public men, said Will. +Hes good enough for the occasion: when the people have made up their +mind as they are making it up now, they dont want a manthey only want +a vote. + +That is the way with you political writers, Ladislawcrying up a +measure as if it were a universal cure, and crying up men who are a +part of the very disease that wants curing. + +Why not? Men may help to cure themselves off the face of the land +without knowing it, said Will, who could find reasons impromptu, when +he had not thought of a question beforehand. + +That is no excuse for encouraging the superstitious exaggeration of +hopes about this particular measure, helping the cry to swallow it +whole and to send up voting popinjays who are good for nothing but to +carry it. You go against rottenness, and there is nothing more +thoroughly rotten than making people believe that society can be cured +by a political hocus-pocus. + +Thats very fine, my dear fellow. But your cure must begin somewhere, +and put it that a thousand things which debase a population can never +be reformed without this particular reform to begin with. Look what +Stanley said the other daythat the House had been tinkering long +enough at small questions of bribery, inquiring whether this or that +voter has had a guinea when everybody knows that the seats have been +sold wholesale. Wait for wisdom and conscience in public +agentsfiddlestick! The only conscience we can trust to is the massive +sense of wrong in a class, and the best wisdom that will work is the +wisdom of balancing claims. Thats my textwhich side is injured? I +support the man who supports their claims; not the virtuous upholder of +the wrong. + +That general talk about a particular case is mere question begging, +Ladislaw. When I say, I go in for the dose that cures, it doesnt +follow that I go in for opium in a given case of gout. + +I am not begging the question we are uponwhether we are to try for +nothing till we find immaculate men to work with. Should you go on that +plan? If there were one man who would carry you a medical reform and +another who would oppose it, should you inquire which had the better +motives or even the better brains? + +Oh, of course, said Lydgate, seeing himself checkmated by a move +which he had often used himself, if one did not work with such men as +are at hand, things must come to a dead-lock. Suppose the worst opinion +in the town about Bulstrode were a true one, that would not make it +less true that he has the sense and the resolution to do what I think +ought to be done in the matters I know and care most about; but that is +the only ground on which I go with him, Lydgate added rather proudly, +bearing in mind Mr. Farebrothers remarks. He is nothing to me +otherwise; I would not cry him up on any personal groundI would keep +clear of that. + +Do you mean that I cry up Brooke on any personal ground? said Will +Ladislaw, nettled, and turning sharp round. For the first time he felt +offended with Lydgate; not the less so, perhaps, because he would have +declined any close inquiry into the growth of his relation to Mr. +Brooke. + +Not at all, said Lydgate, I was simply explaining my own action. I +meant that a man may work for a special end with others whose motives +and general course are equivocal, if he is quite sure of his personal +independence, and that he is not working for his private +interesteither place or money. + +Then, why dont you extend your liberality to others? said Will, +still nettled. My personal independence is as important to me as yours +is to you. You have no more reason to imagine that I have personal +expectations from Brooke, than I have to imagine that you have personal +expectations from Bulstrode. Motives are points of honor, I +supposenobody can prove them. But as to money and place in the world, +Will ended, tossing back his head, I think it is pretty clear that I +am not determined by considerations of that sort. + +You quite mistake me, Ladislaw, said Lydgate, surprised. He had been +preoccupied with his own vindication, and had been blind to what +Ladislaw might infer on his own account. I beg your pardon for +unintentionally annoying you. In fact, I should rather attribute to you +a romantic disregard of your own worldly interests. On the political +question, I referred simply to intellectual bias. + +How very unpleasant you both are this evening! said Rosamond. I +cannot conceive why money should have been referred to. Politics and +Medicine are sufficiently disagreeable to quarrel upon. You can both of +you go on quarrelling with all the world and with each other on those +two topics. + +Rosamond looked mildly neutral as she said this, rising to ring the +bell, and then crossing to her work-table. + +Poor Rosy! said Lydgate, putting out his hand to her as she was +passing him. Disputation is not amusing to cherubs. Have some music. +Ask Ladislaw to sing with you. + +When Will was gone Rosamond said to her husband, What put you out of +temper this evening, Tertius? + +Me? It was Ladislaw who was out of temper. He is like a bit of +tinder. + +But I mean, before that. Something had vexed you before you came in, +you looked cross. And that made you begin to dispute with Mr. Ladislaw. +You hurt me very much when you look so, Tertius. + +Do I? Then I am a brute, said Lydgate, caressing her penitently. + +What vexed you? + +Oh, outdoor thingsbusiness. It was really a letter insisting on the +payment of a bill for furniture. But Rosamond was expecting to have a +baby, and Lydgate wished to save her from any perturbation. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +Was never true love loved in vain, +For truest love is highest gain. +No art can make it: it must spring +Where elements are fostering. +So in heavens spot and hour +Springs the little native flower, +Downward root and upward eye, +Shapen by the earth and sky. + + +It happened to be on a Saturday evening that Will Ladislaw had that +little discussion with Lydgate. Its effect when he went to his own +rooms was to make him sit up half the night, thinking over again, under +a new irritation, all that he had before thought of his having settled +in Middlemarch and harnessed himself with Mr. Brooke. Hesitations +before he had taken the step had since turned into susceptibility to +every hint that he would have been wiser not to take it; and hence came +his heat towards Lydgatea heat which still kept him restless. Was he +not making a fool of himself?and at a time when he was more than ever +conscious of being something better than a fool? And for what end? + +Well, for no definite end. True, he had dreamy visions of +possibilities: there is no human being who having both passions and +thoughts does not think in consequence of his passionsdoes not find +images rising in his mind which soothe the passion with hope or sting +it with dread. But this, which happens to us all, happens to some with +a wide difference; and Will was not one of those whose wit keeps the +roadway: he had his bypaths where there were little joys of his own +choosing, such as gentlemen cantering on the highroad might have +thought rather idiotic. The way in which he made a sort of happiness +for himself out of his feeling for Dorothea was an example of this. It +may seem strange, but it is the fact, that the ordinary vulgar vision +of which Mr. Casaubon suspected himnamely, that Dorothea might become +a widow, and that the interest he had established in her mind might +turn into acceptance of him as a husbandhad no tempting, arresting +power over him; he did not live in the scenery of such an event, and +follow it out, as we all do with that imagined otherwise which is our +practical heaven. It was not only that he was unwilling to entertain +thoughts which could be accused of baseness, and was already uneasy in +the sense that he had to justify himself from the charge of +ingratitudethe latent consciousness of many other barriers between +himself and Dorothea besides the existence of her husband, had helped +to turn away his imagination from speculating on what might befall Mr. +Casaubon. And there were yet other reasons. Will, we know, could not +bear the thought of any flaw appearing in his crystal: he was at once +exasperated and delighted by the calm freedom with which Dorothea +looked at him and spoke to him, and there was something so exquisite in +thinking of her just as she was, that he could not long for a change +which must somehow change her. Do we not shun the street version of a +fine melody?or shrink from the news that the raritysome bit of +chiselling or engraving perhapswhich we have dwelt on even with +exultation in the trouble it has cost us to snatch glimpses of it, is +really not an uncommon thing, and may be obtained as an every-day +possession? Our good depends on the quality and breadth of our emotion; +and to Will, a creature who cared little for what are called the solid +things of life and greatly for its subtler influences, to have within +him such a feeling as he had towards Dorothea, was like the inheritance +of a fortune. What others might have called the futility of his +passion, made an additional delight for his imagination: he was +conscious of a generous movement, and of verifying in his own +experience that higher love-poetry which had charmed his fancy. +Dorothea, he said to himself, was forever enthroned in his soul: no +other woman could sit higher than her footstool; and if he could have +written out in immortal syllables the effect she wrought within him, he +might have boasted after the example of old Drayton, that, + +Queens hereafter might be glad to live +Upon the alms of her superfluous praise. + + +But this result was questionable. And what else could he do for +Dorothea? What was his devotion worth to her? It was impossible to +tell. He would not go out of her reach. He saw no creature among her +friends to whom he could believe that she spoke with the same simple +confidence as to him. She had once said that she would like him to +stay; and stay he would, whatever fire-breathing dragons might hiss +around her. + +This had always been the conclusion of Wills hesitations. But he was +not without contradictoriness and rebellion even towards his own +resolve. He had often got irritated, as he was on this particular +night, by some outside demonstration that his public exertions with Mr. +Brooke as a chief could not seem as heroic as he would like them to be, +and this was always associated with the other ground of irritationthat +notwithstanding his sacrifice of dignity for Dorotheas sake, he could +hardly ever see her. Whereupon, not being able to contradict these +unpleasant facts, he contradicted his own strongest bias and said, I +am a fool. + +Nevertheless, since the inward debate necessarily turned on Dorothea, +he ended, as he had done before, only by getting a livelier sense of +what her presence would be to him; and suddenly reflecting that the +morrow would be Sunday, he determined to go to Lowick Church and see +her. He slept upon that idea, but when he was dressing in the rational +morning light, Objection said + +That will be a virtual defiance of Mr. Casaubons prohibition to visit +Lowick, and Dorothea will be displeased. + +Nonsense! argued Inclination, it would be too monstrous for him to +hinder me from going out to a pretty country church on a spring +morning. And Dorothea will be glad. + +It will be clear to Mr. Casaubon that you have come either to annoy +him or to see Dorothea. + +It is not true that I go to annoy him, and why should I not go to see +Dorothea? Is he to have everything to himself and be always +comfortable? Let him smart a little, as other people are obliged to do. +I have always liked the quaintness of the church and congregation; +besides, I know the Tuckers: I shall go into their pew. + +Having silenced Objection by force of unreason, Will walked to Lowick +as if he had been on the way to Paradise, crossing Halsell Common and +skirting the wood, where the sunlight fell broadly under the budding +boughs, bringing out the beauties of moss and lichen, and fresh green +growths piercing the brown. Everything seemed to know that it was +Sunday, and to approve of his going to Lowick Church. Will easily felt +happy when nothing crossed his humor, and by this time the thought of +vexing Mr. Casaubon had become rather amusing to him, making his face +break into its merry smile, pleasant to see as the breaking of sunshine +on the waterthough the occasion was not exemplary. But most of us are +apt to settle within ourselves that the man who blocks our way is +odious, and not to mind causing him a little of the disgust which his +personality excites in ourselves. Will went along with a small book +under his arm and a hand in each side-pocket, never reading, but +chanting a little, as he made scenes of what would happen in church and +coming out. He was experimenting in tunes to suit some words of his +own, sometimes trying a ready-made melody, sometimes improvising. The +words were not exactly a hymn, but they certainly fitted his Sunday +experience: + +O me, O me, what frugal cheer + My love doth feed upon! +A touch, a ray, that is not here, + A shadow that is gone: + +A dream of breath that might be near, + An inly-echoed tone, +The thought that one may think me dear, + The place where one was known, + +The tremor of a banished fear, + An ill that was not done +O me, O me, what frugal cheer + My love doth feed upon! + + +Sometimes, when he took off his hat, shaking his head backward, and +showing his delicate throat as he sang, he looked like an incarnation +of the spring whose spirit filled the aira bright creature, abundant +in uncertain promises. + +The bells were still ringing when he got to Lowick, and he went into +the curates pew before any one else arrived there. But he was still +left alone in it when the congregation had assembled. The curates pew +was opposite the rectors at the entrance of the small chancel, and +Will had time to fear that Dorothea might not come while he looked +round at the group of rural faces which made the congregation from year +to year within the white-washed walls and dark old pews, hardly with +more change than we see in the boughs of a tree which breaks here and +there with age, but yet has young shoots. Mr. Riggs frog-face was +something alien and unaccountable, but notwithstanding this shock to +the order of things, there were still the Waules and the rural stock of +the Powderells in their pews side by side; brother Samuels cheek had +the same purple round as ever, and the three generations of decent +cottagers came as of old with a sense of duty to their betters +generallythe smaller children regarding Mr. Casaubon, who wore the +black gown and mounted to the highest box, as probably the chief of all +betters, and the one most awful if offended. Even in 1831 Lowick was at +peace, not more agitated by Reform than by the solemn tenor of the +Sunday sermon. The congregation had been used to seeing Will at church +in former days, and no one took much note of him except the choir, who +expected him to make a figure in the singing. + +Dorothea did at last appear on this quaint background, walking up the +short aisle in her white beaver bonnet and gray cloakthe same she had +worn in the Vatican. Her face being, from her entrance, towards the +chancel, even her shortsighted eyes soon discerned Will, but there was +no outward show of her feeling except a slight paleness and a grave bow +as she passed him. To his own surprise Will felt suddenly +uncomfortable, and dared not look at her after they had bowed to each +other. Two minutes later, when Mr. Casaubon came out of the vestry, +and, entering the pew, seated himself in face of Dorothea, Will felt +his paralysis more complete. He could look nowhere except at the choir +in the little gallery over the vestry-door: Dorothea was perhaps +pained, and he had made a wretched blunder. It was no longer amusing to +vex Mr. Casaubon, who had the advantage probably of watching him and +seeing that he dared not turn his head. Why had he not imagined this +beforehand?but he could not expect that he should sit in that square +pew alone, unrelieved by any Tuckers, who had apparently departed from +Lowick altogether, for a new clergyman was in the desk. Still he called +himself stupid now for not foreseeing that it would be impossible for +him to look towards Dorotheanay, that she might feel his coming an +impertinence. There was no delivering himself from his cage, however; +and Will found his places and looked at his book as if he had been a +school-mistress, feeling that the morning service had never been so +immeasurably long before, that he was utterly ridiculous, out of +temper, and miserable. This was what a man got by worshipping the sight +of a woman! The clerk observed with surprise that Mr. Ladislaw did not +join in the tune of Hanover, and reflected that he might have a cold. + +Mr. Casaubon did not preach that morning, and there was no change in +Wills situation until the blessing had been pronounced and every one +rose. It was the fashion at Lowick for the betters to go out first. +With a sudden determination to break the spell that was upon him, Will +looked straight at Mr. Casaubon. But that gentlemans eyes were on the +button of the pew-door, which he opened, allowing Dorothea to pass, and +following her immediately without raising his eyelids. Wills glance +had caught Dorotheas as she turned out of the pew, and again she +bowed, but this time with a look of agitation, as if she were +repressing tears. Will walked out after them, but they went on towards +the little gate leading out of the churchyard into the shrubbery, never +looking round. + +It was impossible for him to follow them, and he could only walk back +sadly at mid-day along the same road which he had trodden hopefully in +the morning. The lights were all changed for him both without and +within. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +Surely the golden hours are turning gray +And dance no more, and vainly strive to run: +I see their white locks streaming in the wind +Each face is haggard as it looks at me, +Slow turning in the constant clasping round +Storm-driven. + + +Dorotheas distress when she was leaving the church came chiefly from +the perception that Mr. Casaubon was determined not to speak to his +cousin, and that Wills presence at church had served to mark more +strongly the alienation between them. Wills coming seemed to her quite +excusable, nay, she thought it an amiable movement in him towards a +reconciliation which she herself had been constantly wishing for. He +had probably imagined, as she had, that if Mr. Casaubon and he could +meet easily, they would shake hands and friendly intercourse might +return. But now Dorothea felt quite robbed of that hope. Will was +banished further than ever, for Mr. Casaubon must have been newly +embittered by this thrusting upon him of a presence which he refused to +recognize. + +He had not been very well that morning, suffering from some difficulty +in breathing, and had not preached in consequence; she was not +surprised, therefore, that he was nearly silent at luncheon, still less +that he made no allusion to Will Ladislaw. For her own part she felt +that she could never again introduce that subject. They usually spent +apart the hours between luncheon and dinner on a Sunday; Mr. Casaubon +in the library dozing chiefly, and Dorothea in her boudoir, where she +was wont to occupy herself with some of her favorite books. There was a +little heap of them on the table in the bow-windowof various sorts, +from Herodotus, which she was learning to read with Mr. Casaubon, to +her old companion Pascal, and Kebles Christian Year. But to-day she +opened one after another, and could read none of them. Everything +seemed dreary: the portents before the birth of CyrusJewish +antiquitiesoh dear!devout epigramsthe sacred chime of favorite +hymnsall alike were as flat as tunes beaten on wood: even the spring +flowers and the grass had a dull shiver in them under the afternoon +clouds that hid the sun fitfully; even the sustaining thoughts which +had become habits seemed to have in them the weariness of long future +days in which she would still live with them for her sole companions. +It was another or rather a fuller sort of companionship that poor +Dorothea was hungering for, and the hunger had grown from the perpetual +effort demanded by her married life. She was always trying to be what +her husband wished, and never able to repose on his delight in what she +was. The thing that she liked, that she spontaneously cared to have, +seemed to be always excluded from her life; for if it was only granted +and not shared by her husband it might as well have been denied. About +Will Ladislaw there had been a difference between them from the first, +and it had ended, since Mr. Casaubon had so severely repulsed +Dorotheas strong feeling about his claims on the family property, by +her being convinced that she was in the right and her husband in the +wrong, but that she was helpless. This afternoon the helplessness was +more wretchedly benumbing than ever: she longed for objects who could +be dear to her, and to whom she could be dear. She longed for work +which would be directly beneficent like the sunshine and the rain, and +now it appeared that she was to live more and more in a virtual tomb, +where there was the apparatus of a ghastly labor producing what would +never see the light. Today she had stood at the door of the tomb and +seen Will Ladislaw receding into the distant world of warm activity and +fellowshipturning his face towards her as he went. + +Books were of no use. Thinking was of no use. It was Sunday, and she +could not have the carriage to go to Celia, who had lately had a baby. +There was no refuge now from spiritual emptiness and discontent, and +Dorothea had to bear her bad mood, as she would have borne a headache. + +After dinner, at the hour when she usually began to read aloud, Mr. +Casaubon proposed that they should go into the library, where, he said, +he had ordered a fire and lights. He seemed to have revived, and to be +thinking intently. + +In the library Dorothea observed that he had newly arranged a row of +his note-books on a table, and now he took up and put into her hand a +well-known volume, which was a table of contents to all the others. + +You will oblige me, my dear, he said, seating himself, if instead of +other reading this evening, you will go through this aloud, pencil in +hand, and at each point where I say mark, will make a cross with your +pencil. This is the first step in a sifting process which I have long +had in view, and as we go on I shall be able to indicate to you certain +principles of selection whereby you will, I trust, have an intelligent +participation in my purpose. + +This proposal was only one more sign added to many since his memorable +interview with Lydgate, that Mr. Casaubons original reluctance to let +Dorothea work with him had given place to the contrary disposition, +namely, to demand much interest and labor from her. + +After she had read and marked for two hours, he said, We will take the +volume up-stairsand the pencil, if you pleaseand in case of reading +in the night, we can pursue this task. It is not wearisome to you, I +trust, Dorothea? + +I prefer always reading what you like best to hear, said Dorothea, +who told the simple truth; for what she dreaded was to exert herself in +reading or anything else which left him as joyless as ever. + +It was a proof of the force with which certain characteristics in +Dorothea impressed those around her, that her husband, with all his +jealousy and suspicion, had gathered implicit trust in the integrity of +her promises, and her power of devoting herself to her idea of the +right and best. Of late he had begun to feel that these qualities were +a peculiar possession for himself, and he wanted to engross them. + +The reading in the night did come. Dorothea in her young weariness had +slept soon and fast: she was awakened by a sense of light, which seemed +to her at first like a sudden vision of sunset after she had climbed a +steep hill: she opened her eyes and saw her husband wrapped in his warm +gown seating himself in the arm-chair near the fire-place where the +embers were still glowing. He had lit two candles, expecting that +Dorothea would awake, but not liking to rouse her by more direct means. + +Are you ill, Edward? she said, rising immediately. + +I felt some uneasiness in a reclining posture. I will sit here for a +time. She threw wood on the fire, wrapped herself up, and said, You +would like me to read to you? + +You would oblige me greatly by doing so, Dorothea, said Mr. Casaubon, +with a shade more meekness than usual in his polite manner. I am +wakeful: my mind is remarkably lucid. + +I fear that the excitement may be too great for you, said Dorothea, +remembering Lydgates cautions. + +No, I am not conscious of undue excitement. Thought is easy. Dorothea +dared not insist, and she read for an hour or more on the same plan as +she had done in the evening, but getting over the pages with more +quickness. Mr. Casaubons mind was more alert, and he seemed to +anticipate what was coming after a very slight verbal indication, +saying, That will domark thator Pass on to the next headI omit +the second excursus on Crete. Dorothea was amazed to think of the +bird-like speed with which his mind was surveying the ground where it +had been creeping for years. At last he said + +Close the book now, my dear. We will resume our work to-morrow. I have +deferred it too long, and would gladly see it completed. But you +observe that the principle on which my selection is made, is to give +adequate, and not disproportionate illustration to each of the theses +enumerated in my introduction, as at present sketched. You have +perceived that distinctly, Dorothea? + +Yes, said Dorothea, rather tremulously. She felt sick at heart. + +And now I think that I can take some repose, said Mr. Casaubon. He +laid down again and begged her to put out the lights. When she had lain +down too, and there was a darkness only broken by a dull glow on the +hearth, he said + +Before I sleep, I have a request to make, Dorothea. + +What is it? said Dorothea, with dread in her mind. + +It is that you will let me know, deliberately, whether, in case of my +death, you will carry out my wishes: whether you will avoid doing what +I should deprecate, and apply yourself to do what I should desire. + +Dorothea was not taken by surprise: many incidents had been leading her +to the conjecture of some intention on her husbands part which might +make a new yoke for her. She did not answer immediately. + +You refuse? said Mr. Casaubon, with more edge in his tone. + +No, I do not yet refuse, said Dorothea, in a clear voice, the need of +freedom asserting itself within her; but it is too solemnI think it +is not rightto make a promise when I am ignorant what it will bind me +to. Whatever affection prompted I would do without promising. + +But you would use your own judgment: I ask you to obey mine; you +refuse. + +No, dear, no! said Dorothea, beseechingly, crushed by opposing fears. +But may I wait and reflect a little while? I desire with my whole soul +to do what will comfort you; but I cannot give any pledge +suddenlystill less a pledge to do I know not what. + +You cannot then confide in the nature of my wishes? + +Grant me till to-morrow, said Dorothea, beseechingly. + +Till to-morrow then, said Mr. Casaubon. + +Soon she could hear that he was sleeping, but there was no more sleep +for her. While she constrained herself to lie still lest she should +disturb him, her mind was carrying on a conflict in which imagination +ranged its forces first on one side and then on the other. She had no +presentiment that the power which her husband wished to establish over +her future action had relation to anything else than his work. But it +was clear enough to her that he would expect her to devote herself to +sifting those mixed heaps of material, which were to be the doubtful +illustration of principles still more doubtful. The poor child had +become altogether unbelieving as to the trustworthiness of that Key +which had made the ambition and the labor of her husbands life. It was +not wonderful that, in spite of her small instruction, her judgment in +this matter was truer than his: for she looked with unbiassed +comparison and healthy sense at probabilities on which he had risked +all his egoism. And now she pictured to herself the days, and months, +and years which she must spend in sorting what might be called +shattered mummies, and fragments of a tradition which was itself a +mosaic wrought from crushed ruinssorting them as food for a theory +which was already withered in the birth like an elfin child. Doubtless +a vigorous error vigorously pursued has kept the embryos of truth +a-breathing: the quest of gold being at the same time a questioning of +substances, the body of chemistry is prepared for its soul, and +Lavoisier is born. But Mr. Casaubons theory of the elements which made +the seed of all tradition was not likely to bruise itself unawares +against discoveries: it floated among flexible conjectures no more +solid than those etymologies which seemed strong because of likeness in +sound until it was shown that likeness in sound made them impossible: +it was a method of interpretation which was not tested by the necessity +of forming anything which had sharper collisions than an elaborate +notion of Gog and Magog: it was as free from interruption as a plan for +threading the stars together. And Dorothea had so often had to check +her weariness and impatience over this questionable riddle-guessing, as +it revealed itself to her instead of the fellowship in high knowledge +which was to make life worthier! She could understand well enough now +why her husband had come to cling to her, as possibly the only hope +left that his labors would ever take a shape in which they could be +given to the world. At first it had seemed that he wished to keep even +her aloof from any close knowledge of what he was doing; but gradually +the terrible stringency of human needthe prospect of a too speedy +death + +And here Dorotheas pity turned from her own future to her husbands +pastnay, to his present hard struggle with a lot which had grown out +of that past: the lonely labor, the ambition breathing hardly under the +pressure of self-distrust; the goal receding, and the heavier limbs; +and now at last the sword visibly trembling above him! And had she not +wished to marry him that she might help him in his lifes labor?But +she had thought the work was to be something greater, which she could +serve in devoutly for its own sake. Was it right, even to soothe his +griefwould it be possible, even if she promisedto work as in a +treadmill fruitlessly? + +And yet, could she deny him? Could she say, I refuse to content this +pining hunger? It would be refusing to do for him dead, what she was +almost sure to do for him living. If he lived as Lydgate had said he +might, for fifteen years or more, her life would certainly be spent in +helping him and obeying him. + +Still, there was a deep difference between that devotion to the living +and that indefinite promise of devotion to the dead. While he lived, he +could claim nothing that she would not still be free to remonstrate +against, and even to refuse. Butthe thought passed through her mind +more than once, though she could not believe in itmight he not mean to +demand something more from her than she had been able to imagine, since +he wanted her pledge to carry out his wishes without telling her +exactly what they were? No; his heart was bound up in his work only: +that was the end for which his failing life was to be eked out by hers. + +And now, if she were to say, No! if you die, I will put no finger to +your workit seemed as if she would be crushing that bruised heart. + +For four hours Dorothea lay in this conflict, till she felt ill and +bewildered, unable to resolve, praying mutely. Helpless as a child +which has sobbed and sought too long, she fell into a late morning +sleep, and when she waked Mr. Casaubon was already up. Tantripp told +her that he had read prayers, breakfasted, and was in the library. + +I never saw you look so pale, madam, said Tantripp, a solid-figured +woman who had been with the sisters at Lausanne. + +Was I ever high-colored, Tantripp? said Dorothea, smiling faintly. + +Well, not to say high-colored, but with a bloom like a Chiny rose. But +always smelling those leather books, what can be expected? Do rest a +little this morning, madam. Let me say you are ill and not able to go +into that close library. + +Oh no, no! let me make haste, said Dorothea. Mr. Casaubon wants me +particularly. + +When she went down she felt sure that she should promise to fulfil his +wishes; but that would be later in the daynot yet. + +As Dorothea entered the library, Mr. Casaubon turned round from the +table where he had been placing some books, and said + +I was waiting for your appearance, my dear. I had hoped to set to work +at once this morning, but I find myself under some indisposition, +probably from too much excitement yesterday. I am going now to take a +turn in the shrubbery, since the air is milder. + +I am glad to hear that, said Dorothea. Your mind, I feared, was too +active last night. + +I would fain have it set at rest on the point I last spoke of, +Dorothea. You can now, I hope, give me an answer. + +May I come out to you in the garden presently? said Dorothea, winning +a little breathing space in that way. + +I shall be in the Yew-tree Walk for the next half-hour, said Mr. +Casaubon, and then he left her. + +Dorothea, feeling very weary, rang and asked Tantripp to bring her some +wraps. She had been sitting still for a few minutes, but not in any +renewal of the former conflict: she simply felt that she was going to +say Yes to her own doom: she was too weak, too full of dread at the +thought of inflicting a keen-edged blow on her husband, to do anything +but submit completely. She sat still and let Tantripp put on her bonnet +and shawl, a passivity which was unusual with her, for she liked to +wait on herself. + +God bless you, madam! said Tantripp, with an irrepressible movement +of love towards the beautiful, gentle creature for whom she felt unable +to do anything more, now that she had finished tying the bonnet. + +This was too much for Dorotheas highly-strung feeling, and she burst +into tears, sobbing against Tantripps arm. But soon she checked +herself, dried her eyes, and went out at the glass door into the +shrubbery. + +I wish every book in that library was built into a caticom for your +master, said Tantripp to Pratt, the butler, finding him in the +breakfast-room. She had been at Rome, and visited the antiquities, as +we know; and she always declined to call Mr. Casaubon anything but +your master, when speaking to the other servants. + +Pratt laughed. He liked his master very well, but he liked Tantripp +better. + +When Dorothea was out on the gravel walks, she lingered among the +nearer clumps of trees, hesitating, as she had done once before, though +from a different cause. Then she had feared lest her effort at +fellowship should be unwelcome; now she dreaded going to the spot where +she foresaw that she must bind herself to a fellowship from which she +shrank. Neither law nor the worlds opinion compelled her to thisonly +her husbands nature and her own compassion, only the ideal and not the +real yoke of marriage. She saw clearly enough the whole situation, yet +she was fettered: she could not smite the stricken soul that entreated +hers. If that were weakness, Dorothea was weak. But the half-hour was +passing, and she must not delay longer. When she entered the Yew-tree +Walk she could not see her husband; but the walk had bends, and she +went, expecting to catch sight of his figure wrapped in a blue cloak, +which, with a warm velvet cap, was his outer garment on chill days for +the garden. It occurred to her that he might be resting in the +summer-house, towards which the path diverged a little. Turning the +angle, she could see him seated on the bench, close to a stone table. +His arms were resting on the table, and his brow was bowed down on +them, the blue cloak being dragged forward and screening his face on +each side. + +He exhausted himself last night, Dorothea said to herself, thinking +at first that he was asleep, and that the summer-house was too damp a +place to rest in. But then she remembered that of late she had seen him +take that attitude when she was reading to him, as if he found it +easier than any other; and that he would sometimes speak, as well as +listen, with his face down in that way. She went into the summerhouse +and said, I am come, Edward; I am ready. + +He took no notice, and she thought that he must be fast asleep. She +laid her hand on his shoulder, and repeated, I am ready! Still he was +motionless; and with a sudden confused fear, she leaned down to him, +took off his velvet cap, and leaned her cheek close to his head, crying +in a distressed tone + +Wake, dear, wake! Listen to me. I am come to answer. But Dorothea +never gave her answer. + +Later in the day, Lydgate was seated by her bedside, and she was +talking deliriously, thinking aloud, and recalling what had gone +through her mind the night before. She knew him, and called him by his +name, but appeared to think it right that she should explain everything +to him; and again, and again, begged him to explain everything to her +husband. + +Tell him I shall go to him soon: I am ready to promise. Only, thinking +about it was so dreadfulit has made me ill. Not very ill. I shall soon +be better. Go and tell him. + +But the silence in her husbands ear was never more to be broken. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +A task too strong for wizard spells +This squire had brought about; +T is easy dropping stones in wells, +But who shall get them out? + + +I wish to God we could hinder Dorothea from knowing this, said Sir +James Chettam, with a little frown on his brow, and an expression of +intense disgust about his mouth. + +He was standing on the hearth-rug in the library at Lowick Grange, and +speaking to Mr. Brooke. It was the day after Mr. Casaubon had been +buried, and Dorothea was not yet able to leave her room. + +That would be difficult, you know, Chettam, as she is an executrix, +and she likes to go into these thingsproperty, land, that kind of +thing. She has her notions, you know, said Mr. Brooke, sticking his +eye-glasses on nervously, and exploring the edges of a folded paper +which he held in his hand; and she would like to actdepend upon it, +as an executrix Dorothea would want to act. And she was twenty-one last +December, you know. I can hinder nothing. + +Sir James looked at the carpet for a minute in silence, and then +lifting his eyes suddenly fixed them on Mr. Brooke, saying, I will +tell you what we can do. Until Dorothea is well, all business must be +kept from her, and as soon as she is able to be moved she must come to +us. Being with Celia and the baby will be the best thing in the world +for her, and will pass away the time. And meanwhile you must get rid of +Ladislaw: you must send him out of the country. Here Sir Jamess look +of disgust returned in all its intensity. + +Mr. Brooke put his hands behind him, walked to the window and +straightened his back with a little shake before he replied. + +That is easily said, Chettam, easily said, you know. + +My dear sir, persisted Sir James, restraining his indignation within +respectful forms, it was you who brought him here, and you who keep +him hereI mean by the occupation you give him. + +Yes, but I cant dismiss him in an instant without assigning reasons, +my dear Chettam. Ladislaw has been invaluable, most satisfactory. I +consider that I have done this part of the country a service by +bringing himby bringing him, you know. Mr. Brooke ended with a nod, +turning round to give it. + +Its a pity this part of the country didnt do without him, thats all +I have to say about it. At any rate, as Dorotheas brother-in-law, I +feel warranted in objecting strongly to his being kept here by any +action on the part of her friends. You admit, I hope, that I have a +right to speak about what concerns the dignity of my wifes sister? + +Sir James was getting warm. + +Of course, my dear Chettam, of course. But you and I have different +ideasdifferent + +Not about this action of Casaubons, I should hope, interrupted Sir +James. I say that he has most unfairly compromised Dorothea. I say +that there never was a meaner, more ungentlemanly action than thisa +codicil of this sort to a will which he made at the time of his +marriage with the knowledge and reliance of her familya positive +insult to Dorothea! + +Well, you know, Casaubon was a little twisted about Ladislaw. Ladislaw +has told me the reasondislike of the bent he took, you knowLadislaw +didnt think much of Casaubons notions, Thoth and Dagonthat sort of +thing: and I fancy that Casaubon didnt like the independent position +Ladislaw had taken up. I saw the letters between them, you know. Poor +Casaubon was a little buried in bookshe didnt know the world. + +Its all very well for Ladislaw to put that color on it, said Sir +James. But I believe Casaubon was only jealous of him on Dorotheas +account, and the world will suppose that she gave him some reason; and +that is what makes it so abominablecoupling her name with this young +fellows. + +My dear Chettam, it wont lead to anything, you know, said Mr. +Brooke, seating himself and sticking on his eye-glass again. Its all +of a piece with Casaubons oddity. This paper, now, Synoptical +Tabulation and so on, for the use of Mrs. Casaubon, it was locked up +in the desk with the will. I suppose he meant Dorothea to publish his +researches, eh? and shell do it, you know; she has gone into his +studies uncommonly. + +My dear sir, said Sir James, impatiently, that is neither here nor +there. The question is, whether you dont see with me the propriety of +sending young Ladislaw away? + +Well, no, not the urgency of the thing. By-and-by, perhaps, it may +come round. As to gossip, you know, sending him away wont hinder +gossip. People say what they like to say, not what they have chapter +and verse for, said Mr Brooke, becoming acute about the truths that +lay on the side of his own wishes. I might get rid of Ladislaw up to a +certain pointtake away the Pioneer from him, and that sort of thing; +but I couldnt send him out of the country if he didnt choose to +godidnt choose, you know. + +Mr. Brooke, persisting as quietly as if he were only discussing the +nature of last years weather, and nodding at the end with his usual +amenity, was an exasperating form of obstinacy. + +Good God! said Sir James, with as much passion as he ever showed, +let us get him a post; let us spend money on him. If he could go in +the suite of some Colonial Governor! Grampus might take himand I could +write to Fulke about it. + +But Ladislaw wont be shipped off like a head of cattle, my dear +fellow; Ladislaw has his ideas. Its my opinion that if he were to part +from me to-morrow, youd only hear the more of him in the country. With +his talent for speaking and drawing up documents, there are few men who +could come up to him as an agitatoran agitator, you know. + +Agitator! said Sir James, with bitter emphasis, feeling that the +syllables of this word properly repeated were a sufficient exposure of +its hatefulness. + +But be reasonable, Chettam. Dorothea, now. As you say, she had better +go to Celia as soon as possible. She can stay under your roof, and in +the mean time things may come round quietly. Dont let us be firing off +our guns in a hurry, you know. Standish will keep our counsel, and the +news will be old before its known. Twenty things may happen to carry +off Ladislawwithout my doing anything, you know. + +Then I am to conclude that you decline to do anything? + +Decline, Chettam?noI didnt say decline. But I really dont see what +I could do. Ladislaw is a gentleman. + +I am glad to hear it! said Sir James, his irritation making him +forget himself a little. I am sure Casaubon was not. + +Well, it would have been worse if he had made the codicil to hinder +her from marrying again at all, you know. + +I dont know that, said Sir James. It would have been less +indelicate. + +One of poor Casaubons freaks! That attack upset his brain a little. +It all goes for nothing. She doesnt _want_ to marry Ladislaw. + +But this codicil is framed so as to make everybody believe that she +did. I dont believe anything of the sort about Dorothea, said Sir +Jamesthen frowningly, but I suspect Ladislaw. I tell you frankly, I +suspect Ladislaw. + +I couldnt take any immediate action on that ground, Chettam. In fact, +if it were possible to pack him offsend him to Norfolk Islandthat +sort of thingit would look all the worse for Dorothea to those who +knew about it. It would seem as if we distrusted herdistrusted her, +you know. + +That Mr. Brooke had hit on an undeniable argument, did not tend to +soothe Sir James. He put out his hand to reach his hat, implying that +he did not mean to contend further, and said, still with some heat + +Well, I can only say that I think Dorothea was sacrificed once, +because her friends were too careless. I shall do what I can, as her +brother, to protect her now. + +You cant do better than get her to Freshitt as soon as possible, +Chettam. I approve that plan altogether, said Mr. Brooke, well pleased +that he had won the argument. It would have been highly inconvenient to +him to part with Ladislaw at that time, when a dissolution might happen +any day, and electors were to be convinced of the course by which the +interests of the country would be best served. Mr. Brooke sincerely +believed that this end could be secured by his own return to +Parliament: he offered the forces of his mind honestly to the nation. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +This Loller here wol precilen us somewhat. +Nay by my fathers soule! that schal he nat, +Sayde the Schipman, here schal he not preche, +We schal no gospel glosen here ne teche. +We leven all in the gret God, quod he. +He wolden sowen some diffcultee._Canterbury Tales_. + + +Dorothea had been safe at Freshitt Hall nearly a week before she had +asked any dangerous questions. Every morning now she sat with Celia in +the prettiest of up-stairs sitting-rooms, opening into a small +conservatoryCelia all in white and lavender like a bunch of mixed +violets, watching the remarkable acts of the baby, which were so +dubious to her inexperienced mind that all conversation was interrupted +by appeals for their interpretation made to the oracular nurse. +Dorothea sat by in her widows dress, with an expression which rather +provoked Celia, as being much too sad; for not only was baby quite +well, but really when a husband had been so dull and troublesome while +he lived, and besides that hadwell, well! Sir James, of course, had +told Celia everything, with a strong representation how important it +was that Dorothea should not know it sooner than was inevitable. + +But Mr. Brooke had been right in predicting that Dorothea would not +long remain passive where action had been assigned to her; she knew the +purport of her husbands will made at the time of their marriage, and +her mind, as soon as she was clearly conscious of her position, was +silently occupied with what she ought to do as the owner of Lowick +Manor with the patronage of the living attached to it. + +One morning when her uncle paid his usual visit, though with an unusual +alacrity in his manner which he accounted for by saying that it was now +pretty certain Parliament would be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea said + +Uncle, it is right now that I should consider who is to have the +living at Lowick. After Mr. Tucker had been provided for, I never heard +my husband say that he had any clergyman in his mind as a successor to +himself. I think I ought to have the keys now and go to Lowick to +examine all my husbands papers. There may be something that would +throw light on his wishes. + +No hurry, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, quietly. By-and-by, you know, +you can go, if you like. But I cast my eyes over things in the desks +and drawersthere was nothingnothing but deep subjects, you +knowbesides the will. Everything can be done by-and-by. As to the +living, I have had an application for interest alreadyI should say +rather good. Mr. Tyke has been strongly recommended to meI had +something to do with getting him an appointment before. An apostolic +man, I believethe sort of thing that would suit you, my dear. + +I should like to have fuller knowledge about him, uncle, and judge for +myself, if Mr. Casaubon has not left any expression of his wishes. He +has perhaps made some addition to his willthere may be some +instructions for me, said Dorothea, who had all the while had this +conjecture in her mind with relation to her husbands work. + +Nothing about the rectory, my dearnothing, said Mr. Brooke, rising +to go away, and putting out his hand to his nieces: nor about his +researches, you know. Nothing in the will. + +Dorotheas lip quivered. + +Come, you must not think of these things yet, my dear. By-and-by, you +know. + +I am quite well now, uncle; I wish to exert myself. + +Well, well, we shall see. But I must run away nowI have no end of +work nowits a crisisa political crisis, you know. And here is Celia +and her little manyou are an aunt, you know, now, and I am a sort of +grandfather, said Mr. Brooke, with placid hurry, anxious to get away +and tell Chettam that it would not be his (Mr. Brookes) fault if +Dorothea insisted on looking into everything. + +Dorothea sank back in her chair when her uncle had left the room, and +cast her eyes down meditatively on her crossed hands. + +Look, Dodo! look at him! Did you ever see anything like that? said +Celia, in her comfortable staccato. + +What, Kitty? said Dorothea, lifting her eyes rather absently. + +What? why, his upper lip; see how he is drawing it down, as if he +meant to make a face. Isnt it wonderful! He may have his little +thoughts. I wish nurse were here. Do look at him. + +A large tear which had been for some time gathering, rolled down +Dorotheas cheek as she looked up and tried to smile. + +Dont be sad, Dodo; kiss baby. What are you brooding over so? I am +sure you did everything, and a great deal too much. You should be happy +now. + +I wonder if Sir James would drive me to Lowick. I want to look over +everythingto see if there were any words written for me. + +You are not to go till Mr. Lydgate says you may go. And he has not +said so yet (here you are, nurse; take baby and walk up and down the +gallery). Besides, you have got a wrong notion in your head as usual, +DodoI can see that: it vexes me. + +Where am I wrong, Kitty? said Dorothea, quite meekly. She was almost +ready now to think Celia wiser than herself, and was really wondering +with some fear what her wrong notion was. Celia felt her advantage, and +was determined to use it. None of them knew Dodo as well as she did, or +knew how to manage her. Since Celias baby was born, she had had a new +sense of her mental solidity and calm wisdom. It seemed clear that +where there was a baby, things were right enough, and that error, in +general, was a mere lack of that central poising force. + +I can see what you are thinking of as well as can be, Dodo, said +Celia. You are wanting to find out if there is anything uncomfortable +for you to do now, only because Mr. Casaubon wished it. As if you had +not been uncomfortable enough before. And he doesnt deserve it, and +you will find that out. He has behaved very badly. James is as angry +with him as can be. And I had better tell you, to prepare you. + +Celia, said Dorothea, entreatingly, you distress me. Tell me at once +what you mean. It glanced through her mind that Mr. Casaubon had left +the property away from herwhich would not be so very distressing. + +Why, he has made a codicil to his will, to say the property was all to +go away from you if you marriedI mean + +That is of no consequence, said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously. + +But if you married Mr. Ladislaw, not anybody else, Celia went on with +persevering quietude. Of course that is of no consequence in one +wayyou never _would_ marry Mr. Ladislaw; but that only makes it worse +of Mr. Casaubon. + +The blood rushed to Dorotheas face and neck painfully. But Celia was +administering what she thought a sobering dose of fact. It was taking +up notions that had done Dodos health so much harm. So she went on in +her neutral tone, as if she had been remarking on babys robes. + +James says so. He says it is abominable, and not like a gentleman. And +there never was a better judge than James. It is as if Mr. Casaubon +wanted to make people believe that you would wish to marry Mr. +Ladislawwhich is ridiculous. Only James says it was to hinder Mr. +Ladislaw from wanting to marry you for your moneyjust as if he ever +would think of making you an offer. Mrs. Cadwallader said you might as +well marry an Italian with white mice! But I must just go and look at +baby, Celia added, without the least change of tone, throwing a light +shawl over her, and tripping away. + +Dorothea by this time had turned cold again, and now threw herself back +helplessly in her chair. She might have compared her experience at that +moment to the vague, alarmed consciousness that her life was taking on +a new form, that she was undergoing a metamorphosis in which memory +would not adjust itself to the stirring of new organs. Everything was +changing its aspect: her husbands conduct, her own duteous feeling +towards him, every struggle between themand yet more, her whole +relation to Will Ladislaw. Her world was in a state of convulsive +change; the only thing she could say distinctly to herself was, that +she must wait and think anew. One change terrified her as if it had +been a sin; it was a violent shock of repulsion from her departed +husband, who had had hidden thoughts, perhaps perverting everything she +said and did. Then again she was conscious of another change which also +made her tremulous; it was a sudden strange yearning of heart towards +Will Ladislaw. It had never before entered her mind that he could, +under any circumstances, be her lover: conceive the effect of the +sudden revelation that another had thought of him in that lightthat +perhaps he himself had been conscious of such a possibility,and this +with the hurrying, crowding vision of unfitting conditions, and +questions not soon to be solved. + +It seemed a long whileshe did not know how longbefore she heard Celia +saying, That will do, nurse; he will be quiet on my lap now. You can +go to lunch, and let Garratt stay in the next room. What I think, +Dodo, Celia went on, observing nothing more than that Dorothea was +leaning back in her chair, and likely to be passive, is that Mr. +Casaubon was spiteful. I never did like him, and James never did. I +think the corners of his mouth were dreadfully spiteful. And now he has +behaved in this way, I am sure religion does not require you to make +yourself uncomfortable about him. If he has been taken away, that is a +mercy, and you ought to be grateful. We should not grieve, should we, +baby? said Celia confidentially to that unconscious centre and poise +of the world, who had the most remarkable fists all complete even to +the nails, and hair enough, really, when you took his cap off, to +makeyou didnt know what:in short, he was Bouddha in a Western form. + +At this crisis Lydgate was announced, and one of the first things he +said was, I fear you are not so well as you were, Mrs. Casaubon; have +you been agitated? allow me to feel your pulse. Dorotheas hand was of +a marble coldness. + +She wants to go to Lowick, to look over papers, said Celia. She +ought not, ought she? + +Lydgate did not speak for a few moments. Then he said, looking at +Dorothea. I hardly know. In my opinion Mrs. Casaubon should do what +would give her the most repose of mind. That repose will not always +come from being forbidden to act. + +Thank you, said Dorothea, exerting herself, I am sure that is wise. +There are so many things which I ought to attend to. Why should I sit +here idle? Then, with an effort to recall subjects not connected with +her agitation, she added, abruptly, You know every one in Middlemarch, +I think, Mr. Lydgate. I shall ask you to tell me a great deal. I have +serious things to do now. I have a living to give away. You know Mr. +Tyke and all the But Dorotheas effort was too much for her; she +broke off and burst into sobs. + +Lydgate made her drink a dose of sal volatile. + +Let Mrs. Casaubon do as she likes, he said to Sir James, whom he +asked to see before quitting the house. She wants perfect freedom, I +think, more than any other prescription. + +His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had enabled him +to form some true conclusions concerning the trials of her life. He +felt sure that she had been suffering from the strain and conflict of +self-repression; and that she was likely now to feel herself only in +another sort of pinfold than that from which she had been released. + +Lydgates advice was all the easier for Sir James to follow when he +found that Celia had already told Dorothea the unpleasant fact about +the will. There was no help for it nowno reason for any further delay +in the execution of necessary business. And the next day Sir James +complied at once with her request that he would drive her to Lowick. + +I have no wish to stay there at present, said Dorothea; I could +hardly bear it. I am much happier at Freshitt with Celia. I shall be +able to think better about what should be done at Lowick by looking at +it from a distance. And I should like to be at the Grange a little +while with my uncle, and go about in all the old walks and among the +people in the village. + +Not yet, I think. Your uncle is having political company, and you are +better out of the way of such doings, said Sir James, who at that +moment thought of the Grange chiefly as a haunt of young Ladislaws. +But no word passed between him and Dorothea about the objectionable +part of the will; indeed, both of them felt that the mention of it +between them would be impossible. Sir James was shy, even with men, +about disagreeable subjects; and the one thing that Dorothea would have +chosen to say, if she had spoken on the matter at all, was forbidden to +her at present because it seemed to be a further exposure of her +husbands injustice. Yet she did wish that Sir James could know what +had passed between her and her husband about Will Ladislaws moral +claim on the property: it would then, she thought, be apparent to him +as it was to her, that her husbands strange indelicate proviso had +been chiefly urged by his bitter resistance to that idea of claim, and +not merely by personal feelings more difficult to talk about. Also, it +must be admitted, Dorothea wished that this could be known for Wills +sake, since her friends seemed to think of him as simply an object of +Mr. Casaubons charity. Why should he be compared with an Italian +carrying white mice? That word quoted from Mrs. Cadwallader seemed like +a mocking travesty wrought in the dark by an impish finger. + +At Lowick Dorothea searched desk and drawersearched all her husbands +places of deposit for private writing, but found no paper addressed +especially to her, except that Synoptical Tabulation, which was +probably only the beginning of many intended directions for her +guidance. In carrying out this bequest of labor to Dorothea, as in all +else, Mr. Casaubon had been slow and hesitating, oppressed in the plan +of transmitting his work, as he had been in executing it, by the sense +of moving heavily in a dim and clogging medium: distrust of Dorotheas +competence to arrange what he had prepared was subdued only by distrust +of any other redactor. But he had come at last to create a trust for +himself out of Dorotheas nature: she could do what she resolved to do: +and he willingly imagined her toiling under the fetters of a promise to +erect a tomb with his name upon it. (Not that Mr. Casaubon called the +future volumes a tomb; he called them the Key to all Mythologies.) But +the months gained on him and left his plans belated: he had only had +time to ask for that promise by which he sought to keep his cold grasp +on Dorotheas life. + +The grasp had slipped away. Bound by a pledge given from the depths of +her pity, she would have been capable of undertaking a toil which her +judgment whispered was vain for all uses except that consecration of +faithfulness which is a supreme use. But now her judgment, instead of +being controlled by duteous devotion, was made active by the +imbittering discovery that in her past union there had lurked the +hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion. The living, suffering man +was no longer before her to awaken her pity: there remained only the +retrospect of painful subjection to a husband whose thoughts had been +lower than she had believed, whose exorbitant claims for himself had +even blinded his scrupulous care for his own character, and made him +defeat his own pride by shocking men of ordinary honor. As for the +property which was the sign of that broken tie, she would have been +glad to be free from it and have nothing more than her original fortune +which had been settled on her, if there had not been duties attached to +ownership, which she ought not to flinch from. About this property many +troublous questions insisted on rising: had she not been right in +thinking that the half of it ought to go to Will Ladislaw?but was it +not impossible now for her to do that act of justice? Mr. Casaubon had +taken a cruelly effective means of hindering her: even with indignation +against him in her heart, any act that seemed a triumphant eluding of +his purpose revolted her. + +After collecting papers of business which she wished to examine, she +locked up again the desks and drawersall empty of personal words for +herempty of any sign that in her husbands lonely brooding his heart +had gone out to her in excuse or explanation; and she went back to +Freshitt with the sense that around his last hard demand and his last +injurious assertion of his power, the silence was unbroken. + +Dorothea tried now to turn her thoughts towards immediate duties, and +one of these was of a kind which others were determined to remind her +of. Lydgates ear had caught eagerly her mention of the living, and as +soon as he could, he reopened the subject, seeing here a possibility of +making amends for the casting-vote he had once given with an +ill-satisfied conscience. Instead of telling you anything about Mr. +Tyke, he said, I should like to speak of another manMr. Farebrother, +the Vicar of St. Botolphs. His living is a poor one, and gives him a +stinted provision for himself and his family. His mother, aunt, and +sister all live with him, and depend upon him. I believe he has never +married because of them. I never heard such good preaching as hissuch +plain, easy eloquence. He would have done to preach at St. Pauls Cross +after old Latimer. His talk is just as good about all subjects: +original, simple, clear. I think him a remarkable fellow: he ought to +have done more than he has done. + +Why has he not done more? said Dorothea, interested now in all who +had slipped below their own intention. + +Thats a hard question, said Lydgate. I find myself that its +uncommonly difficult to make the right thing work: there are so many +strings pulling at once. Farebrother often hints that he has got into +the wrong profession; he wants a wider range than that of a poor +clergyman, and I suppose he has no interest to help him on. He is very +fond of Natural History and various scientific matters, and he is +hampered in reconciling these tastes with his position. He has no money +to sparehardly enough to use; and that has led him into +card-playingMiddlemarch is a great place for whist. He does play for +money, and he wins a good deal. Of course that takes him into company a +little beneath him, and makes him slack about some things; and yet, +with all that, looking at him as a whole, I think he is one of the most +blameless men I ever knew. He has neither venom nor doubleness in him, +and those often go with a more correct outside. + +I wonder whether he suffers in his conscience because of that habit, +said Dorothea; I wonder whether he wishes he could leave it off. + +I have no doubt he would leave it off, if he were transplanted into +plenty: he would be glad of the time for other things. + +My uncle says that Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man, said +Dorothea, meditatively. She was wishing it were possible to restore the +times of primitive zeal, and yet thinking of Mr. Farebrother with a +strong desire to rescue him from his chance-gotten money. + +I dont pretend to say that Farebrother is apostolic, said Lydgate. +His position is not quite like that of the Apostles: he is only a +parson among parishioners whose lives he has to try and make better. +Practically I find that what is called being apostolic now, is an +impatience of everything in which the parson doesnt cut the principal +figure. I see something of that in Mr. Tyke at the Hospital: a good +deal of his doctrine is a sort of pinching hard to make people +uncomfortably aware of him. Besides, an apostolic man at Lowick!he +ought to think, as St. Francis did, that it is needful to preach to the +birds. + +True, said Dorothea. It is hard to imagine what sort of notions our +farmers and laborers get from their teaching. I have been looking into +a volume of sermons by Mr. Tyke: such sermons would be of no use at +LowickI mean, about imputed righteousness and the prophecies in the +Apocalypse. I have always been thinking of the different ways in which +Christianity is taught, and whenever I find one way that makes it a +wider blessing than any other, I cling to that as the truestI mean +that which takes in the most good of all kinds, and brings in the most +people as sharers in it. It is surely better to pardon too much, than +to condemn too much. But I should like to see Mr. Farebrother and hear +him preach. + +Do, said Lydgate; I trust to the effect of that. He is very much +beloved, but he has his enemies too: there are always people who cant +forgive an able man for differing from them. And that money-winning +business is really a blot. You dont, of course, see many Middlemarch +people: but Mr. Ladislaw, who is constantly seeing Mr. Brooke, is a +great friend of Mr. Farebrothers old ladies, and would be glad to sing +the Vicars praises. One of the old ladiesMiss Noble, the auntis a +wonderfully quaint picture of self-forgetful goodness, and Ladislaw +gallants her about sometimes. I met them one day in a back street: you +know Ladislaws looka sort of Daphnis in coat and waistcoat; and this +little old maid reaching up to his armthey looked like a couple +dropped out of a romantic comedy. But the best evidence about +Farebrother is to see him and hear him. + +Happily Dorothea was in her private sitting-room when this conversation +occurred, and there was no one present to make Lydgates innocent +introduction of Ladislaw painful to her. As was usual with him in +matters of personal gossip, Lydgate had quite forgotten Rosamonds +remark that she thought Will adored Mrs. Casaubon. At that moment he +was only caring for what would recommend the Farebrother family; and he +had purposely given emphasis to the worst that could be said about the +Vicar, in order to forestall objections. In the weeks since Mr. +Casaubons death he had hardly seen Ladislaw, and he had heard no rumor +to warn him that Mr. Brookes confidential secretary was a dangerous +subject with Mrs. Casaubon. When he was gone, his picture of Ladislaw +lingered in her mind and disputed the ground with that question of the +Lowick living. What was Will Ladislaw thinking about her? Would he hear +of that fact which made her cheeks burn as they never used to do? And +how would he feel when he heard it?But she could see as well as +possible how he smiled down at the little old maid. An Italian with +white mice!on the contrary, he was a creature who entered into every +ones feelings, and could take the pressure of their thought instead of +urging his own with iron resistance. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +Party is Nature too, and you shall see +By force of Logic how they both agree: +The Many in the One, the One in Many; +All is not Some, nor Some the same as Any: +Genus holds species, both are great or small; +One genus highest, one not high at all; +Each species has its differentia too, +This is not That, and He was never You, +Though this and that are AYES, and you and he +Are like as one to one, or three to three. + + +No gossip about Mr. Casaubons will had yet reached Ladislaw: the air +seemed to be filled with the dissolution of Parliament and the coming +election, as the old wakes and fairs were filled with the rival clatter +of itinerant shows; and more private noises were taken little notice +of. The famous dry election was at hand, in which the depths of +public feeling might be measured by the low flood-mark of drink. Will +Ladislaw was one of the busiest at this time; and though Dorotheas +widowhood was continually in his thought, he was so far from wishing to +be spoken to on the subject, that when Lydgate sought him out to tell +him what had passed about the Lowick living, he answered rather +waspishly + +Why should you bring me into the matter? I never see Mrs. Casaubon, +and am not likely to see her, since she is at Freshitt. I never go +there. It is Tory ground, where I and the Pioneer are no more welcome +than a poacher and his gun. + +The fact was that Will had been made the more susceptible by observing +that Mr. Brooke, instead of wishing him, as before, to come to the +Grange oftener than was quite agreeable to himself, seemed now to +contrive that he should go there as little as possible. This was a +shuffling concession of Mr. Brookes to Sir James Chettams indignant +remonstrance; and Will, awake to the slightest hint in this direction, +concluded that he was to be kept away from the Grange on Dorotheas +account. Her friends, then, regarded him with some suspicion? Their +fears were quite superfluous: they were very much mistaken if they +imagined that he would put himself forward as a needy adventurer trying +to win the favor of a rich woman. + +Until now Will had never fully seen the chasm between himself and +Dorotheauntil now that he was come to the brink of it, and saw her on +the other side. He began, not without some inward rage, to think of +going away from the neighborhood: it would be impossible for him to +show any further interest in Dorothea without subjecting himself to +disagreeable imputationsperhaps even in her mind, which others might +try to poison. + +We are forever divided, said Will. I might as well be at Rome; she +would be no farther from me. But what we call our despair is often +only the painful eagerness of unfed hope. There were plenty of reasons +why he should not gopublic reasons why he should not quit his post at +this crisis, leaving Mr. Brooke in the lurch when he needed coaching +for the election, and when there was so much canvassing, direct and +indirect, to be carried on. Will could not like to leave his own +chessmen in the heat of a game; and any candidate on the right side, +even if his brain and marrow had been as soft as was consistent with a +gentlemanly bearing, might help to turn a majority. To coach Mr. Brooke +and keep him steadily to the idea that he must pledge himself to vote +for the actual Reform Bill, instead of insisting on his independence +and power of pulling up in time, was not an easy task. Mr. +Farebrothers prophecy of a fourth candidate in the bag had not yet +been fulfilled, neither the Parliamentary Candidate Society nor any +other power on the watch to secure a reforming majority seeing a worthy +nodus for interference while there was a second reforming candidate +like Mr. Brooke, who might be returned at his own expense; and the +fight lay entirely between Pinkerton the old Tory member, Bagster the +new Whig member returned at the last election, and Brooke the future +independent member, who was to fetter himself for this occasion only. +Mr. Hawley and his party would bend all their forces to the return of +Pinkerton, and Mr. Brookes success must depend either on plumpers +which would leave Bagster in the rear, or on the new minting of Tory +votes into reforming votes. The latter means, of course, would be +preferable. + +This prospect of converting votes was a dangerous distraction to Mr. +Brooke: his impression that waverers were likely to be allured by +wavering statements, and also the liability of his mind to stick afresh +at opposing arguments as they turned up in his memory, gave Will +Ladislaw much trouble. + +You know there are tactics in these things, said Mr. Brooke; meeting +people half-waytempering your ideassaying, Well now, theres +something in that, and so on. I agree with you that this is a peculiar +occasionthe country with a will of its ownpolitical unionsthat sort +of thingbut we sometimes cut with rather too sharp a knife, Ladislaw. +These ten-pound householders, now: why ten? Draw the line +somewhereyes: but why just at ten? Thats a difficult question, now, +if you go into it. + +Of course it is, said Will, impatiently. But if you are to wait till +we get a logical Bill, you must put yourself forward as a +revolutionist, and then Middlemarch would not elect you, I fancy. As +for trimming, this is not a time for trimming. + +Mr. Brooke always ended by agreeing with Ladislaw, who still appeared +to him a sort of Burke with a leaven of Shelley; but after an interval +the wisdom of his own methods reasserted itself, and he was again drawn +into using them with much hopefulness. At this stage of affairs he was +in excellent spirits, which even supported him under large advances of +money; for his powers of convincing and persuading had not yet been +tested by anything more difficult than a chairmans speech introducing +other orators, or a dialogue with a Middlemarch voter, from which he +came away with a sense that he was a tactician by nature, and that it +was a pity he had not gone earlier into this kind of thing. He was a +little conscious of defeat, however, with Mr. Mawmsey, a chief +representative in Middlemarch of that great social power, the retail +trader, and naturally one of the most doubtful voters in the +boroughwilling for his own part to supply an equal quality of teas and +sugars to reformer and anti-reformer, as well as to agree impartially +with both, and feeling like the burgesses of old that this necessity of +electing members was a great burthen to a town; for even if there were +no danger in holding out hopes to all parties beforehand, there would +be the painful necessity at last of disappointing respectable people +whose names were on his books. He was accustomed to receive large +orders from Mr. Brooke of Tipton; but then, there were many of +Pinkertons committee whose opinions had a great weight of grocery on +their side. Mr. Mawmsey thinking that Mr. Brooke, as not too clever in +his intellects, was the more likely to forgive a grocer who gave a +hostile vote under pressure, had become confidential in his back +parlor. + +As to Reform, sir, put it in a family light, he said, rattling the +small silver in his pocket, and smiling affably. Will it support Mrs. +Mawmsey, and enable her to bring up six children when I am no more? I +put the question _fictiously_, knowing what must be the answer. Very +well, sir. I ask you what, as a husband and a father, I am to do when +gentlemen come to me and say, Do as you like, Mawmsey; but if you vote +against us, I shall get my groceries elsewhere: when I sugar my liquor +I like to feel that I am benefiting the country by maintaining +tradesmen of the right color. Those very words have been spoken to me, +sir, in the very chair where you are now sitting. I dont mean by your +honorable self, Mr. Brooke. + +No, no, nothats narrow, you know. Until my butler complains to me of +your goods, Mr. Mawmsey, said Mr. Brooke, soothingly, until I hear +that you send bad sugars, spicesthat sort of thingI shall never order +him to go elsewhere. + +Sir, I am your humble servant, and greatly obliged, said Mr. Mawmsey, +feeling that politics were clearing up a little. There would be some +pleasure in voting for a gentleman who speaks in that honorable +manner. + +Well, you know, Mr. Mawmsey, you would find it the right thing to put +yourself on our side. This Reform will touch everybody by-and-bya +thoroughly popular measurea sort of A, B, C, you know, that must come +first before the rest can follow. I quite agree with you that youve +got to look at the thing in a family light: but public spirit, now. +Were all one family, you knowits all one cupboard. Such a thing as a +vote, now: why, it may help to make mens fortunes at the Capetheres +no knowing what may be the effect of a vote, Mr. Brooke ended, with a +sense of being a little out at sea, though finding it still enjoyable. +But Mr. Mawmsey answered in a tone of decisive check. + +I beg your pardon, sir, but I cant afford that. When I give a vote I +must know what I am doing; I must look to what will be the effects on +my till and ledger, speaking respectfully. Prices, Ill admit, are what +nobody can know the merits of; and the sudden falls after youve bought +in currants, which are a goods that will not keepIve never; myself +seen into the ins and outs there; which is a rebuke to human pride. But +as to one family, theres debtor and creditor, I hope; theyre not +going to reform that away; else I should vote for things staying as +they are. Few men have less need to cry for change than I have, +personally speakingthat is, for self and family. I am not one of those +who have nothing to lose: I mean as to respectability both in parish +and private business, and noways in respect of your honorable self and +custom, which you was good enough to say you would not withdraw from +me, vote or no vote, while the article sent in was satisfactory. + +After this conversation Mr. Mawmsey went up and boasted to his wife +that he had been rather too many for Brooke of Tipton, and that he +didnt mind so much now about going to the poll. + +Mr. Brooke on this occasion abstained from boasting of his tactics to +Ladislaw, who for his part was glad enough to persuade himself that he +had no concern with any canvassing except the purely argumentative +sort, and that he worked no meaner engine than knowledge. Mr. Brooke, +necessarily, had his agents, who understood the nature of the +Middlemarch voter and the means of enlisting his ignorance on the side +of the Billwhich were remarkably similar to the means of enlisting it +on the side against the Bill. Will stopped his ears. Occasionally +Parliament, like the rest of our lives, even to our eating and apparel, +could hardly go on if our imaginations were too active about processes. +There were plenty of dirty-handed men in the world to do dirty +business; and Will protested to himself that his share in bringing Mr. +Brooke through would be quite innocent. + +But whether he should succeed in that mode of contributing to the +majority on the right side was very doubtful to him. He had written out +various speeches and memoranda for speeches, but he had begun to +perceive that Mr. Brookes mind, if it had the burthen of remembering +any train of thought, would let it drop, run away in search of it, and +not easily come back again. To collect documents is one mode of serving +your country, and to remember the contents of a document is another. +No! the only way in which Mr. Brooke could be coerced into thinking of +the right arguments at the right time was to be well plied with them +till they took up all the room in his brain. But here there was the +difficulty of finding room, so many things having been taken in +beforehand. Mr. Brooke himself observed that his ideas stood rather in +his way when he was speaking. + +However, Ladislaws coaching was forthwith to be put to the test, for +before the day of nomination Mr. Brooke was to explain himself to the +worthy electors of Middlemarch from the balcony of the White Hart, +which looked out advantageously at an angle of the market-place, +commanding a large area in front and two converging streets. It was a +fine May morning, and everything seemed hopeful: there was some +prospect of an understanding between Bagsters committee and Brookes, +to which Mr. Bulstrode, Mr. Standish as a Liberal lawyer, and such +manufacturers as Mr. Plymdale and Mr. Vincy, gave a solidity which +almost counterbalanced Mr. Hawley and his associates who sat for +Pinkerton at the Green Dragon. Mr. Brooke, conscious of having weakened +the blasts of the Trumpet against him, by his reforms as a landlord +in the last half year, and hearing himself cheered a little as he drove +into the town, felt his heart tolerably light under his buff-colored +waistcoat. But with regard to critical occasions, it often happens that +all moments seem comfortably remote until the last. + +This looks well, eh? said Mr. Brooke as the crowd gathered. I shall +have a good audience, at any rate. I like this, nowthis kind of public +made up of ones own neighbors, you know. + +The weavers and tanners of Middlemarch, unlike Mr. Mawmsey, had never +thought of Mr. Brooke as a neighbor, and were not more attached to him +than if he had been sent in a box from London. But they listened +without much disturbance to the speakers who introduced the candidate, +one of thema political personage from Brassing, who came to tell +Middlemarch its dutyspoke so fully, that it was alarming to think what +the candidate could find to say after him. Meanwhile the crowd became +denser, and as the political personage neared the end of his speech, +Mr. Brooke felt a remarkable change in his sensations while he still +handled his eye-glass, trifled with documents before him, and exchanged +remarks with his committee, as a man to whom the moment of summons was +indifferent. + +Ill take another glass of sherry, Ladislaw, he said, with an easy +air, to Will, who was close behind him, and presently handed him the +supposed fortifier. It was ill-chosen; for Mr. Brooke was an abstemious +man, and to drink a second glass of sherry quickly at no great interval +from the first was a surprise to his system which tended to scatter his +energies instead of collecting them. Pray pity him: so many English +gentlemen make themselves miserable by speechifying on entirely private +grounds! whereas Mr. Brooke wished to serve his country by standing for +Parliamentwhich, indeed, may also be done on private grounds, but +being once undertaken does absolutely demand some speechifying. + +It was not about the beginning of his speech that Mr. Brooke was at all +anxious; this, he felt sure, would be all right; he should have it +quite pat, cut out as neatly as a set of couplets from Pope. Embarking +would be easy, but the vision of open sea that might come after was +alarming. And questions, now, hinted the demon just waking up in his +stomach, somebody may put questions about the schedules.Ladislaw, he +continued, aloud, just hand me the memorandum of the schedules. + +When Mr. Brooke presented himself on the balcony, the cheers were quite +loud enough to counterbalance the yells, groans, brayings, and other +expressions of adverse theory, which were so moderate that Mr. Standish +(decidedly an old bird) observed in the ear next to him, This looks +dangerous, by God! Hawley has got some deeper plan than this. Still, +the cheers were exhilarating, and no candidate could look more amiable +than Mr. Brooke, with the memorandum in his breast-pocket, his left +hand on the rail of the balcony, and his right trifling with his +eye-glass. The striking points in his appearance were his buff +waistcoat, short-clipped blond hair, and neutral physiognomy. He began +with some confidence. + +GentlemenElectors of Middlemarch! + +This was so much the right thing that a little pause after it seemed +natural. + +Im uncommonly glad to be hereI was never so proud and happy in my +lifenever so happy, you know. + +This was a bold figure of speech, but not exactly the right thing; for, +unhappily, the pat opening had slipped awayeven couplets from Pope may +be but fallings from us, vanishings, when fear clutches us, and a +glass of sherry is hurrying like smoke among our ideas. Ladislaw, who +stood at the window behind the speaker, thought, its all up now. The +only chance is that, since the best thing wont always do, floundering +may answer for once. Mr. Brooke, meanwhile, having lost other clews, +fell back on himself and his qualificationsalways an appropriate +graceful subject for a candidate. + +I am a close neighbor of yours, my good friendsyouve known me on the +bench a good whileIve always gone a good deal into public +questionsmachinery, now, and machine-breakingyoure many of you +concerned with machinery, and Ive been going into that lately. It +wont do, you know, breaking machines: everything must go ontrade, +manufactures, commerce, interchange of staplesthat kind of thingsince +Adam Smith, that must go on. We must look all over the +globe:Observation with extensive view, must look everywhere, from +China to Peru, as somebody saysJohnson, I think, The Rambler, you +know. That is what I have done up to a certain pointnot as far as +Peru; but Ive not always stayed at homeI saw it wouldnt do. Ive +been in the Levant, where some of your Middlemarch goods goand then, +again, in the Baltic. The Baltic, now. + +Plying among his recollections in this way, Mr. Brooke might have got +along, easily to himself, and would have come back from the remotest +seas without trouble; but a diabolical procedure had been set up by the +enemy. At one and the same moment there had risen above the shoulders +of the crowd, nearly opposite Mr. Brooke, and within ten yards of him, +the effigy of himself: buff-colored waistcoat, eye-glass, and neutral +physiognomy, painted on rag; and there had arisen, apparently in the +air, like the note of the cuckoo, a parrot-like, Punch-voiced echo of +his words. Everybody looked up at the open windows in the houses at the +opposite angles of the converging streets; but they were either blank, +or filled by laughing listeners. The most innocent echo has an impish +mockery in it when it follows a gravely persistent speaker, and this +echo was not at all innocent; if it did not follow with the precision +of a natural echo, it had a wicked choice of the words it overtook. By +the time it said, The Baltic, now, the laugh which had been running +through the audience became a general shout, and but for the sobering +effects of party and that great public cause which the entanglement of +things had identified with Brooke of Tipton, the laugh might have +caught his committee. Mr. Bulstrode asked, reprehensively, what the new +police was doing; but a voice could not well be collared, and an attack +on the effigy of the candidate would have been too equivocal, since +Hawley probably meant it to be pelted. + +Mr. Brooke himself was not in a position to be quickly conscious of +anything except a general slipping away of ideas within himself: he had +even a little singing in the ears, and he was the only person who had +not yet taken distinct account of the echo or discerned the image of +himself. Few things hold the perceptions more thoroughly captive than +anxiety about what we have got to say. Mr. Brooke heard the laughter; +but he had expected some Tory efforts at disturbance, and he was at +this moment additionally excited by the tickling, stinging sense that +his lost exordium was coming back to fetch him from the Baltic. + +That reminds me, he went on, thrusting a hand into his side-pocket, +with an easy air, if I wanted a precedent, you knowbut we never want +a precedent for the right thingbut there is Chatham, now; I cant say +I should have supported Chatham, or Pitt, the younger Pitthe was not a +man of ideas, and we want ideas, you know. + +Blast your ideas! we want the Bill, said a loud rough voice from the +crowd below. + +Immediately the invisible Punch, who had hitherto followed Mr. Brooke, +repeated, Blast your ideas! we want the Bill. The laugh was louder +than ever, and for the first time Mr. Brooke being himself silent, +heard distinctly the mocking echo. But it seemed to ridicule his +interrupter, and in that light was encouraging; so he replied with +amenity + +There is something in what you say, my good friend, and what do we +meet for but to speak our mindsfreedom of opinion, freedom of the +press, libertythat kind of thing? The Bill, nowyou shall have the +Billhere Mr. Brooke paused a moment to fix on his eye-glass and take +the paper from his breast-pocket, with a sense of being practical and +coming to particulars. The invisible Punch followed: + +You shall have the Bill, Mr. Brooke, per electioneering contest, and a +seat outside Parliament as delivered, five thousand pounds, seven +shillings, and fourpence. + +Mr. Brooke, amid the roars of laughter, turned red, let his eye-glass +fall, and looking about him confusedly, saw the image of himself, which +had come nearer. The next moment he saw it dolorously bespattered with +eggs. His spirit rose a little, and his voice too. + +Buffoonery, tricks, ridicule the test of truthall that is very +wellhere an unpleasant egg broke on Mr. Brookes shoulder, as the +echo said, All that is very well; then came a hail of eggs, chiefly +aimed at the image, but occasionally hitting the original, as if by +chance. There was a stream of new men pushing among the crowd; +whistles, yells, bellowings, and fifes made all the greater hubbub +because there was shouting and struggling to put them down. No voice +would have had wing enough to rise above the uproar, and Mr. Brooke, +disagreeably anointed, stood his ground no longer. The frustration +would have been less exasperating if it had been less gamesome and +boyish: a serious assault of which the newspaper reporter can aver +that it endangered the learned gentlemans ribs, or can respectfully +bear witness to the soles of that gentlemans boots having been +visible above the railing, has perhaps more consolations attached to +it. + +Mr. Brooke re-entered the committee-room, saying, as carelessly as he +could, This is a little too bad, you know. I should have got the ear +of the people by-and-bybut they didnt give me time. I should have +gone into the Bill by-and-by, you know, he added, glancing at +Ladislaw. However, things will come all right at the nomination. + +But it was not resolved unanimously that things would come right; on +the contrary, the committee looked rather grim, and the political +personage from Brassing was writing busily, as if he were brewing new +devices. + +It was Bowyer who did it, said Mr. Standish, evasively. I know it as +well as if he had been advertised. Hes uncommonly good at +ventriloquism, and he did it uncommonly well, by God! Hawley has been +having him to dinner lately: theres a fund of talent in Bowyer. + +Well, you know, you never mentioned him to me, Standish, else I would +have invited him to dine, said poor Mr. Brooke, who had gone through a +great deal of inviting for the good of his country. + +Theres not a more paltry fellow in Middlemarch than Bowyer, said +Ladislaw, indignantly, but it seems as if the paltry fellows were +always to turn the scale. + +Will was thoroughly out of temper with himself as well as with his +principal, and he went to shut himself in his rooms with a +half-formed resolve to throw up the Pioneer and Mr. Brooke together. +Why should he stay? If the impassable gulf between himself and Dorothea +were ever to be filled up, it must rather be by his going away and +getting into a thoroughly different position than by staying here and +slipping into deserved contempt as an understrapper of Brookes. Then +came the young dream of wonders that he might doin five years, for +example: political writing, political speaking, would get a higher +value now public life was going to be wider and more national, and they +might give him such distinction that he would not seem to be asking +Dorothea to step down to him. Five years:if he could only be sure that +she cared for him more than for others; if he could only make her aware +that he stood aloof until he could tell his love without lowering +himselfthen he could go away easily, and begin a career which at +five-and-twenty seemed probable enough in the inward order of things, +where talent brings fame, and fame everything else which is delightful. +He could speak and he could write; he could master any subject if he +chose, and he meant always to take the side of reason and justice, on +which he would carry all his ardor. Why should he not one day be lifted +above the shoulders of the crowd, and feel that he had won that +eminence well? Without doubt he would leave Middlemarch, go to town, +and make himself fit for celebrity by eating his dinners. + +But not immediately: not until some kind of sign had passed between him +and Dorothea. He could not be satisfied until she knew why, even if he +were the man she would choose to marry, he would not marry her. Hence +he must keep his post and bear with Mr. Brooke a little longer. + +But he soon had reason to suspect that Mr. Brooke had anticipated him +in the wish to break up their connection. Deputations without and +voices within had concurred in inducing that philanthropist to take a +stronger measure than usual for the good of mankind; namely, to +withdraw in favor of another candidate, to whom he left the advantages +of his canvassing machinery. He himself called this a strong measure, +but observed that his health was less capable of sustaining excitement +than he had imagined. + +I have felt uneasy about the chestit wont do to carry that too far, +he said to Ladislaw in explaining the affair. I must pull up. Poor +Casaubon was a warning, you know. Ive made some heavy advances, but +Ive dug a channel. Its rather coarse workthis electioneering, eh, +Ladislaw? dare say you are tired of it. However, we have dug a channel +with the Pioneerput things in a track, and so on. A more ordinary +man than you might carry it on nowmore ordinary, you know. + +Do you wish me to give it up? said Will, the quick color coming in +his face, as he rose from the writing-table, and took a turn of three +steps with his hands in his pockets. I am ready to do so whenever you +wish it. + +As to wishing, my dear Ladislaw, I have the highest opinion of your +powers, you know. But about the Pioneer, I have been consulting a +little with some of the men on our side, and they are inclined to take +it into their handsindemnify me to a certain extentcarry it on, in +fact. And under the circumstances, you might like to give upmight find +a better field. These people might not take that high view of you which +I have always taken, as an alter ego, a right handthough I always +looked forward to your doing something else. I think of having a run +into France. But Ill write you any letters, you knowto Althorpe and +people of that kind. Ive met Althorpe. + +I am exceedingly obliged to you, said Ladislaw, proudly. Since you +are going to part with the Pioneer, I need not trouble you about the +steps I shall take. I may choose to continue here for the present. + +After Mr. Brooke had left him Will said to himself, The rest of the +family have been urging him to get rid of me, and he doesnt care now +about my going. I shall stay as long as I like. I shall go of my own +movements and not because they are afraid of me. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +His heart +The lowliest duties on itself did lay. +WORDSWORTH. + + +On that June evening when Mr. Farebrother knew that he was to have the +Lowick living, there was joy in the old fashioned parlor, and even the +portraits of the great lawyers seemed to look on with satisfaction. His +mother left her tea and toast untouched, but sat with her usual pretty +primness, only showing her emotion by that flush in the cheeks and +brightness in the eyes which give an old woman a touching momentary +identity with her far-off youthful self, and saying decisively + +The greatest comfort, Camden, is that you have deserved it. + +When a man gets a good berth, mother, half the deserving must come +after, said the son, brimful of pleasure, and not trying to conceal +it. The gladness in his face was of that active kind which seems to +have energy enough not only to flash outwardly, but to light up busy +vision within: one seemed to see thoughts, as well as delight, in his +glances. + +Now, aunt, he went on, rubbing his hands and looking at Miss Noble, +who was making tender little beaver-like noises, There shall be +sugar-candy always on the table for you to steal and give to the +children, and you shall have a great many new stockings to make +presents of, and you shall darn your own more than ever! + +Miss Noble nodded at her nephew with a subdued half-frightened laugh, +conscious of having already dropped an additional lump of sugar into +her basket on the strength of the new preferment. + +As for you, Winnythe Vicar went onI shall make no difficulty about +your marrying any Lowick bachelorMr. Solomon Featherstone, for +example, as soon as I find you are in love with him. + +Miss Winifred, who had been looking at her brother all the while and +crying heartily, which was her way of rejoicing, smiled through her +tears and said, You must set me the example, Cam: _you_ must marry +now. + +With all my heart. But who is in love with me? I am a seedy old +fellow, said the Vicar, rising, pushing his chair away and looking +down at himself. What do you say, mother? + +You are a handsome man, Camden: though not so fine a figure of a man +as your father, said the old lady. + +I wish you would marry Miss Garth, brother, said Miss Winifred. She +would make us so lively at Lowick. + +Very fine! You talk as if young women were tied up to be chosen, like +poultry at market; as if I had only to ask and everybody would have +me, said the Vicar, not caring to specify. + +We dont want everybody, said Miss Winifred. But _you_ would like +Miss Garth, mother, shouldnt you? + +My sons choice shall be mine, said Mrs. Farebrother, with majestic +discretion, and a wife would be most welcome, Camden. You will want +your whist at home when we go to Lowick, and Henrietta Noble never was +a whist-player. (Mrs. Farebrother always called her tiny old sister by +that magnificent name.) + +I shall do without whist now, mother. + +Why so, Camden? In my time whist was thought an undeniable amusement +for a good churchman, said Mrs. Farebrother, innocent of the meaning +that whist had for her son, and speaking rather sharply, as at some +dangerous countenancing of new doctrine. + +I shall be too busy for whist; I shall have two parishes, said the +Vicar, preferring not to discuss the virtues of that game. + +He had already said to Dorothea, I dont feel bound to give up St. +Botolphs. It is protest enough against the pluralism they want to +reform if I give somebody else most of the money. The stronger thing is +not to give up power, but to use it well. + +I have thought of that, said Dorothea. So far as self is concerned, +I think it would be easier to give up power and money than to keep +them. It seems very unfitting that I should have this patronage, yet I +felt that I ought not to let it be used by some one else instead of +me. + +It is I who am bound to act so that you will not regret your power, +said Mr. Farebrother. + +His was one of the natures in which conscience gets the more active +when the yoke of life ceases to gall them. He made no display of +humility on the subject, but in his heart he felt rather ashamed that +his conduct had shown laches which others who did not get benefices +were free from. + +I used often to wish I had been something else than a clergyman, he +said to Lydgate, but perhaps it will be better to try and make as good +a clergyman out of myself as I can. That is the well-beneficed point of +view, you perceive, from which difficulties are much simplified, he +ended, smiling. + +The Vicar did feel then as if his share of duties would be easy. But +Duty has a trick of behaving unexpectedlysomething like a heavy friend +whom we have amiably asked to visit us, and who breaks his leg within +our gates. + +Hardly a week later, Duty presented itself in his study under the +disguise of Fred Vincy, now returned from Omnibus College with his +bachelors degree. + +I am ashamed to trouble you, Mr. Farebrother, said Fred, whose fair +open face was propitiating, but you are the only friend I can consult. +I told you everything once before, and you were so good that I cant +help coming to you again. + +Sit down, Fred, Im ready to hear and do anything I can, said the +Vicar, who was busy packing some small objects for removal, and went on +with his work. + +I wanted to tell you Fred hesitated an instant and then went on +plungingly, I might go into the Church now; and really, look where I +may, I cant see anything else to do. I dont like it, but I know its +uncommonly hard on my father to say so, after he has spent a good deal +of money in educating me for it. Fred paused again an instant, and +then repeated, and I cant see anything else to do. + +I did talk to your father about it, Fred, but I made little way with +him. He said it was too late. But you have got over one bridge now: +what are your other difficulties? + +Merely that I dont like it. I dont like divinity, and preaching, and +feeling obliged to look serious. I like riding across country, and +doing as other men do. I dont mean that I want to be a bad fellow in +any way; but Ive no taste for the sort of thing people expect of a +clergyman. And yet what else am I to do? My father cant spare me any +capital, else I might go into farming. And he has no room for me in his +trade. And of course I cant begin to study for law or physic now, when +my father wants me to earn something. Its all very well to say Im +wrong to go into the Church; but those who say so might as well tell me +to go into the backwoods. + +Freds voice had taken a tone of grumbling remonstrance, and Mr. +Farebrother might have been inclined to smile if his mind had not been +too busy in imagining more than Fred told him. + +Have you any difficulties about doctrinesabout the Articles? he +said, trying hard to think of the question simply for Freds sake. + +No; I suppose the Articles are right. I am not prepared with any +arguments to disprove them, and much better, cleverer fellows than I am +go in for them entirely. I think it would be rather ridiculous in me to +urge scruples of that sort, as if I were a judge, said Fred, quite +simply. + +I suppose, then, it has occurred to you that you might be a fair +parish priest without being much of a divine? + +Of course, if I am obliged to be a clergyman, I shall try and do my +duty, though I maynt like it. Do you think any body ought to blame +me? + +For going into the Church under the circumstances? That depends on +your conscience, Fredhow far you have counted the cost, and seen what +your position will require of you. I can only tell you about myself, +that I have always been too lax, and have been uneasy in consequence. + +But there is another hindrance, said Fred, coloring. I did not tell +you before, though perhaps I may have said things that made you guess +it. There is somebody I am very fond of: I have loved her ever since we +were children. + +Miss Garth, I suppose? said the Vicar, examining some labels very +closely. + +Yes. I shouldnt mind anything if she would have me. And I know I +could be a good fellow then. + +And you think she returns the feeling? + +She never will say so; and a good while ago she made me promise not to +speak to her about it again. And she has set her mind especially +against my being a clergyman; I know that. But I cant give her up. I +do think she cares about me. I saw Mrs. Garth last night, and she said +that Mary was staying at Lowick Rectory with Miss Farebrother. + +Yes, she is very kindly helping my sister. Do you wish to go there? + +No, I want to ask a great favor of you. I am ashamed to bother you in +this way; but Mary might listen to what you said, if you mentioned the +subject to herI mean about my going into the Church. + +That is rather a delicate task, my dear Fred. I shall have to +presuppose your attachment to her; and to enter on the subject as you +wish me to do, will be asking her to tell me whether she returns it. + +That is what I want her to tell you, said Fred, bluntly. I dont +know what to do, unless I can get at her feeling. + +You mean that you would be guided by that as to your going into the +Church? + +If Mary said she would never have me I might as well go wrong in one +way as another. + +That is nonsense, Fred. Men outlive their love, but they dont outlive +the consequences of their recklessness. + +Not my sort of love: I have never been without loving Mary. If I had +to give her up, it would be like beginning to live on wooden legs. + +Will she not be hurt at my intrusion? + +No, I feel sure she will not. She respects you more than any one, and +she would not put you off with fun as she does me. Of course I could +not have told any one else, or asked any one else to speak to her, but +you. There is no one else who could be such a friend to both of us. +Fred paused a moment, and then said, rather complainingly, And she +ought to acknowledge that I have worked in order to pass. She ought to +believe that I would exert myself for her sake. + +There was a moments silence before Mr. Farebrother laid down his work, +and putting out his hand to Fred said + +Very well, my boy. I will do what you wish. + +That very day Mr. Farebrother went to Lowick parsonage on the nag which +he had just set up. Decidedly I am an old stalk, he thought, the +young growths are pushing me aside. + +He found Mary in the garden gathering roses and sprinkling the petals +on a sheet. The sun was low, and tall trees sent their shadows across +the grassy walks where Mary was moving without bonnet or parasol. She +did not observe Mr. Farebrothers approach along the grass, and had +just stooped down to lecture a small black-and-tan terrier, which would +persist in walking on the sheet and smelling at the rose-leaves as Mary +sprinkled them. She took his fore-paws in one hand, and lifted up the +forefinger of the other, while the dog wrinkled his brows and looked +embarrassed. Fly, Fly, I am ashamed of you, Mary was saying in a +grave contralto. This is not becoming in a sensible dog; anybody would +think you were a silly young gentleman. + +You are unmerciful to young gentlemen, Miss Garth, said the Vicar, +within two yards of her. + +Mary started up and blushed. It always answers to reason with Fly, +she said, laughingly. + +But not with young gentlemen? + +Oh, with some, I suppose; since some of them turn into excellent men. + +I am glad of that admission, because I want at this very moment to +interest you in a young gentleman. + +Not a silly one, I hope, said Mary, beginning to pluck the roses +again, and feeling her heart beat uncomfortably. + +No; though perhaps wisdom is not his strong point, but rather +affection and sincerity. However, wisdom lies more in those two +qualities than people are apt to imagine. I hope you know by those +marks what young gentleman I mean. + +Yes, I think I do, said Mary, bravely, her face getting more serious, +and her hands cold; it must be Fred Vincy. + +He has asked me to consult you about his going into the Church. I hope +you will not think that I consented to take a liberty in promising to +do so. + +On the contrary, Mr. Farebrother, said Mary, giving up the roses, and +folding her arms, but unable to look up, whenever you have anything to +say to me I feel honored. + +But before I enter on that question, let me just touch a point on +which your father took me into confidence; by the way, it was that very +evening on which I once before fulfilled a mission from Fred, just +after he had gone to college. Mr. Garth told me what happened on the +night of Featherstones deathhow you refused to burn the will; and he +said that you had some heart-prickings on that subject, because you had +been the innocent means of hindering Fred from getting his ten thousand +pounds. I have kept that in mind, and I have heard something that may +relieve you on that scoremay show you that no sin-offering is demanded +from you there. + +Mr. Farebrother paused a moment and looked at Mary. He meant to give +Fred his full advantage, but it would be well, he thought, to clear her +mind of any superstitions, such as women sometimes follow when they do +a man the wrong of marrying him as an act of atonement. Marys cheeks +had begun to burn a little, and she was mute. + +I mean, that your action made no real difference to Freds lot. I find +that the first will would not have been legally good after the burning +of the last; it would not have stood if it had been disputed, and you +may be sure it would have been disputed. So, on that score, you may +feel your mind free. + +Thank you, Mr. Farebrother, said Mary, earnestly. I am grateful to +you for remembering my feelings. + +Well, now I may go on. Fred, you know, has taken his degree. He has +worked his way so far, and now the question is, what is he to do? That +question is so difficult that he is inclined to follow his fathers +wishes and enter the Church, though you know better than I do that he +was quite set against that formerly. I have questioned him on the +subject, and I confess I see no insuperable objection to his being a +clergyman, as things go. He says that he could turn his mind to doing +his best in that vocation, on one condition. If that condition were +fulfilled I would do my utmost in helping Fred on. After a timenot, of +course, at firsthe might be with me as my curate, and he would have so +much to do that his stipend would be nearly what I used to get as +vicar. But I repeat that there is a condition without which all this +good cannot come to pass. He has opened his heart to me, Miss Garth, +and asked me to plead for him. The condition lies entirely in your +feeling. + +Mary looked so much moved, that he said after a moment, Let us walk a +little; and when they were walking he added, To speak quite plainly, +Fred will not take any course which would lessen the chance that you +would consent to be his wife; but with that prospect, he will try his +best at anything you approve. + +I cannot possibly say that I will ever be his wife, Mr. Farebrother: +but I certainly never will be his wife if he becomes a clergyman. What +you say is most generous and kind; I dont mean for a moment to correct +your judgment. It is only that I have my girlish, mocking way of +looking at things, said Mary, with a returning sparkle of playfulness +in her answer which only made its modesty more charming. + +He wishes me to report exactly what you think, said Mr. Farebrother. + +I could not love a man who is ridiculous, said Mary, not choosing to +go deeper. Fred has sense and knowledge enough to make him +respectable, if he likes, in some good worldly business, but I can +never imagine him preaching and exhorting, and pronouncing blessings, +and praying by the sick, without feeling as if I were looking at a +caricature. His being a clergyman would be only for gentilitys sake, +and I think there is nothing more contemptible than such imbecile +gentility. I used to think that of Mr. Crowse, with his empty face and +neat umbrella, and mincing little speeches. What right have such men to +represent Christianityas if it were an institution for getting up +idiots genteellyas if Mary checked herself. She had been carried +along as if she had been speaking to Fred instead of Mr. Farebrother. + +Young women are severe: they dont feel the stress of action as men +do, though perhaps I ought to make you an exception there. But you +dont put Fred Vincy on so low a level as that? + +No, indeed, he has plenty of sense, but I think he would not show it +as a clergyman. He would be a piece of professional affectation. + +Then the answer is quite decided. As a clergyman he could have no +hope? + +Mary shook her head. + +But if he braved all the difficulties of getting his bread in some +other waywill you give him the support of hope? May he count on +winning you? + +I think Fred ought not to need telling again what I have already said +to him, Mary answered, with a slight resentment in her manner. I mean +that he ought not to put such questions until he has done something +worthy, instead of saying that he could do it. + +Mr. Farebrother was silent for a minute or more, and then, as they +turned and paused under the shadow of a maple at the end of a grassy +walk, said, I understand that you resist any attempt to fetter you, +but either your feeling for Fred Vincy excludes your entertaining +another attachment, or it does not: either he may count on your +remaining single until he shall have earned your hand, or he may in any +case be disappointed. Pardon me, Maryyou know I used to catechise you +under that namebut when the state of a womans affections touches the +happiness of another lifeof more lives than oneI think it would be +the nobler course for her to be perfectly direct and open. + +Mary in her turn was silent, wondering not at Mr. Farebrothers manner +but at his tone, which had a grave restrained emotion in it. When the +strange idea flashed across her that his words had reference to +himself, she was incredulous, and ashamed of entertaining it. She had +never thought that any man could love her except Fred, who had espoused +her with the umbrella ring, when she wore socks and little strapped +shoes; still less that she could be of any importance to Mr. +Farebrother, the cleverest man in her narrow circle. She had only time +to feel that all this was hazy and perhaps illusory; but one thing was +clear and determinedher answer. + +Since you think it my duty, Mr. Farebrother, I will tell you that I +have too strong a feeling for Fred to give him up for any one else. I +should never be quite happy if I thought he was unhappy for the loss of +me. It has taken such deep root in memy gratitude to him for always +loving me best, and minding so much if I hurt myself, from the time +when we were very little. I cannot imagine any new feeling coming to +make that weaker. I should like better than anything to see him worthy +of every ones respect. But please tell him I will not promise to marry +him till then: I should shame and grieve my father and mother. He is +free to choose some one else. + +Then I have fulfilled my commission thoroughly, said Mr. Farebrother, +putting out his hand to Mary, and I shall ride back to Middlemarch +forthwith. With this prospect before him, we shall get Fred into the +right niche somehow, and I hope I shall live to join your hands. God +bless you! + +Oh, please stay, and let me give you some tea, said Mary. Her eyes +filled with tears, for something indefinable, something like the +resolute suppression of a pain in Mr. Farebrothers manner, made her +feel suddenly miserable, as she had once felt when she saw her fathers +hands trembling in a moment of trouble. + +No, my dear, no. I must get back. + +In three minutes the Vicar was on horseback again, having gone +magnanimously through a duty much harder than the renunciation of +whist, or even than the writing of penitential meditations. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +It is but a shallow haste which concludeth insincerity from what +outsiders call inconsistencyputting a dead mechanism of ifs and +therefores for the living myriad of hidden suckers whereby the belief +and the conduct are wrought into mutual sustainment. + + +Mr. Bulstrode, when he was hoping to acquire a new interest in Lowick, +had naturally had an especial wish that the new clergyman should be one +whom he thoroughly approved; and he believed it to be a chastisement +and admonition directed to his own shortcomings and those of the nation +at large, that just about the time when he came in possession of the +deeds which made him the proprietor of Stone Court, Mr. Farebrother +read himself into the quaint little church and preached his first +sermon to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and village artisans. +It was not that Mr. Bulstrode intended to frequent Lowick Church or to +reside at Stone Court for a good while to come: he had bought the +excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a retreat which he might +gradually enlarge as to the land and beautify as to the dwelling, until +it should be conducive to the divine glory that he should enter on it +as a residence, partially withdrawing from his present exertions in the +administration of business, and throwing more conspicuously on the side +of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which +Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. A strong +leading in this direction seemed to have been given in the surprising +facility of getting Stone Court, when every one had expected that Mr. +Rigg Featherstone would have clung to it as the Garden of Eden. That +was what poor old Peter himself had expected; having often, in +imagination, looked up through the sods above him, and, unobstructed by +perspective, seen his frog-faced legatee enjoying the fine old place to +the perpetual surprise and disappointment of other survivors. + +But how little we know what would make paradise for our neighbors! We +judge from our own desires, and our neighbors themselves are not always +open enough even to throw out a hint of theirs. The cool and judicious +Joshua Rigg had not allowed his parent to perceive that Stone Court was +anything less than the chief good in his estimation, and he had +certainly wished to call it his own. But as Warren Hastings looked at +gold and thought of buying Daylesford, so Joshua Rigg looked at Stone +Court and thought of buying gold. He had a very distinct and intense +vision of his chief good, the vigorous greed which he had inherited +having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and his chief good +was to be a moneychanger. From his earliest employment as an errand-boy +in a seaport, he had looked through the windows of the moneychangers as +other boys look through the windows of the pastry-cooks; the +fascination had wrought itself gradually into a deep special passion; +he meant, when he had property, to do many things, one of them being to +marry a genteel young person; but these were all accidents and joys +that imagination could dispense with. The one joy after which his soul +thirsted was to have a money-changers shop on a much-frequented quay, +to have locks all round him of which he held the keys, and to look +sublimely cool as he handled the breeding coins of all nations, while +helpless Cupidity looked at him enviously from the other side of an +iron lattice. The strength of that passion had been a power enabling +him to master all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. And when +others were thinking that he had settled at Stone Court for life, +Joshua himself was thinking that the moment now was not far off when he +should settle on the North Quay with the best appointments in safes and +locks. + +Enough. We are concerned with looking at Joshua Riggs sale of his land +from Mr. Bulstrodes point of view, and he interpreted it as a cheering +dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a purpose which he had for +some time entertained without external encouragement; he interpreted it +thus, but not too confidently, offering up his thanksgiving in guarded +phraseology. His doubts did not arise from the possible relations of +the event to Joshua Riggs destiny, which belonged to the unmapped +regions not taken under the providential government, except perhaps in +an imperfect colonial way; but they arose from reflecting that this +dispensation too might be a chastisement for himself, as Mr. +Farebrothers induction to the living clearly was. + +This was not what Mr. Bulstrode said to any man for the sake of +deceiving him: it was what he said to himselfit was as genuinely his +mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be, if you happen +to disagree with him. For the egoism which enters into our theories +does not affect their sincerity; rather, the more our egoism is +satisfied, the more robust is our belief. + +However, whether for sanction or for chastisement, Mr. Bulstrode, +hardly fifteen months after the death of Peter Featherstone, had become +the proprietor of Stone Court, and what Peter would say if he were +worthy to know, had become an inexhaustible and consolatory subject of +conversation to his disappointed relatives. The tables were now turned +on that dear brother departed, and to contemplate the frustration of +his cunning by the superior cunning of things in general was a cud of +delight to Solomon. Mrs. Waule had a melancholy triumph in the proof +that it did not answer to make false Featherstones and cut off the +genuine; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the Chalky Flats said, +Dear, dear! then the Almighty could have been none so pleased with the +almshouses after all. + +Affectionate Mrs. Bulstrode was particularly glad of the advantage +which her husbands health was likely to get from the purchase of Stone +Court. Few days passed without his riding thither and looking over some +part of the farm with the bailiff, and the evenings were delicious in +that quiet spot, when the new hay-ricks lately set up were sending +forth odors to mingle with the breath of the rich old garden. One +evening, while the sun was still above the horizon and burning in +golden lamps among the great walnut boughs, Mr. Bulstrode was pausing +on horseback outside the front gate waiting for Caleb Garth, who had +met him by appointment to give an opinion on a question of stable +drainage, and was now advising the bailiff in the rick-yard. + +Mr. Bulstrode was conscious of being in a good spiritual frame and more +than usually serene, under the influence of his innocent recreation. He +was doctrinally convinced that there was a total absence of merit in +himself; but that doctrinal conviction may be held without pain when +the sense of demerit does not take a distinct shape in memory and +revive the tingling of shame or the pang of remorse. Nay, it may be +held with intense satisfaction when the depth of our sinning is but a +measure for the depth of forgiveness, and a clenching proof that we are +peculiar instruments of the divine intention. The memory has as many +moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery like a diorama. At this +moment Mr. Bulstrode felt as if the sunshine were all one with that of +far-off evenings when he was a very young man and used to go out +preaching beyond Highbury. And he would willingly have had that service +of exhortation in prospect now. The texts were there still, and so was +his own facility in expounding them. His brief reverie was interrupted +by the return of Caleb Garth, who also was on horseback, and was just +shaking his bridle before starting, when he exclaimed + +Bless my heart! whats this fellow in black coming along the lane? +Hes like one of those men one sees about after the races. + +Mr. Bulstrode turned his horse and looked along the lane, but made no +reply. The comer was our slight acquaintance Mr. Raffles, whose +appearance presented no other change than such as was due to a suit of +black and a crape hat-band. He was within three yards of the horseman +now, and they could see the flash of recognition in his face as he +whirled his stick upward, looking all the while at Mr. Bulstrode, and +at last exclaiming: + +By Jove, Nick, its you! I couldnt be mistaken, though the +five-and-twenty years have played old Boguy with us both! How are you, +eh? you didnt expect to see _me_ here. Come, shake us by the hand. To +say that Mr. Raffles manner was rather excited would be only one mode +of saying that it was evening. Caleb Garth could see that there was a +moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode, but it ended in his +putting out his hand coldly to Raffles and saying + +I did not indeed expect to see you in this remote country place. + +Well, it belongs to a stepson of mine, said Raffles, adjusting +himself in a swaggering attitude. I came to see him here before. Im +not so surprised at seeing you, old fellow, because I picked up a +letterwhat you may call a providential thing. Its uncommonly +fortunate I met you, though; for I dont care about seeing my stepson: +hes not affectionate, and his poor mothers gone now. To tell the +truth, I came out of love to you, Nick: I came to get your address, +forlook here! Raffles drew a crumpled paper from his pocket. + +Almost any other man than Caleb Garth might have been tempted to linger +on the spot for the sake of hearing all he could about a man whose +acquaintance with Bulstrode seemed to imply passages in the bankers +life so unlike anything that was known of him in Middlemarch that they +must have the nature of a secret to pique curiosity. But Caleb was +peculiar: certain human tendencies which are commonly strong were +almost absent from his mind; and one of these was curiosity about +personal affairs. Especially if there was anything discreditable to be +found out concerning another man, Caleb preferred not to know it; and +if he had to tell anybody under him that his evil doings were +discovered, he was more embarrassed than the culprit. He now spurred +his horse, and saying, I wish you good evening, Mr. Bulstrode; I must +be getting home, set off at a trot. + +You didnt put your full address to this letter, Raffles continued. +That was not like the first-rate man of business you used to be. The +Shrubs,they may be anywhere: you live near at hand, eh?have cut the +London concern altogetherperhaps turned country squirehave a rural +mansion to invite me to. Lord, how many years it is ago! The old lady +must have been dead a pretty long whilegone to glory without the pain +of knowing how poor her daughter was, eh? But, by Jove! youre very +pale and pasty, Nick. Come, if youre going home, Ill walk by your +side. + +Mr. Bulstrodes usual paleness had in fact taken an almost deathly hue. +Five minutes before, the expanse of his life had been submerged in its +evening sunshine which shone backward to its remembered morning: sin +seemed to be a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation +an exercise of the closet, the bearing of his deeds a matter of private +vision adjusted solely by spiritual relations and conceptions of the +divine purposes. And now, as if by some hideous magic, this loud red +figure had risen before him in unmanageable solidityan incorporate +past which had not entered into his imagination of chastisements. But +Mr. Bulstrodes thought was busy, and he was not a man to act or speak +rashly. + +I was going home, he said, but I can defer my ride a little. And you +can, if you please, rest here. + +Thank you, said Raffles, making a grimace. I dont care now about +seeing my stepson. Id rather go home with you. + +Your stepson, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he, is here no longer. I am +master here now. + +Raffles opened wide eyes, and gave a long whistle of surprise, before +he said, Well then, Ive no objection. Ive had enough walking from +the coach-road. I never was much of a walker, or rider either. What I +like is a smart vehicle and a spirited cob. I was always a little heavy +in the saddle. What a pleasant surprise it must be to you to see me, +old fellow! he continued, as they turned towards the house. You dont +say so; but you never took your luck heartilyyou were always thinking +of improving the occasionyoud such a gift for improving your luck. + +Mr. Raffles seemed greatly to enjoy his own wit, and swung his leg in a +swaggering manner which was rather too much for his companions +judicious patience. + +If I remember rightly, Mr. Bulstrode observed, with chill anger, our +acquaintance many years ago had not the sort of intimacy which you are +now assuming, Mr. Raffles. Any services you desire of me will be the +more readily rendered if you will avoid a tone of familiarity which did +not lie in our former intercourse, and can hardly be warranted by more +than twenty years of separation. + +You dont like being called Nick? Why, I always called you Nick in my +heart, and though lost to sight, to memory dear. By Jove! my feelings +have ripened for you like fine old cognac. I hope youve got some in +the house now. Josh filled my flask well the last time. + +Mr. Bulstrode had not yet fully learned that even the desire for cognac +was not stronger in Raffles than the desire to torment, and that a hint +of annoyance always served him as a fresh cue. But it was at least +clear that further objection was useless, and Mr. Bulstrode, in giving +orders to the housekeeper for the accommodation of the guest, had a +resolute air of quietude. + +There was the comfort of thinking that this housekeeper had been in the +service of Rigg also, and might accept the idea that Mr. Bulstrode +entertained Raffles merely as a friend of her former master. + +When there was food and drink spread before his visitor in the +wainscoted parlor, and no witness in the room, Mr. Bulstrode said + +Your habits and mine are so different, Mr. Raffles, that we can hardly +enjoy each others society. The wisest plan for both of us will +therefore be to part as soon as possible. Since you say that you wished +to meet me, you probably considered that you had some business to +transact with me. But under the circumstances I will invite you to +remain here for the night, and I will myself ride over here early +to-morrow morningbefore breakfast, in factwhen I can receive any +communication you have to make to me. + +With all my heart, said Raffles; this is a comfortable placea +little dull for a continuance; but I can put up with it for a night, +with this good liquor and the prospect of seeing you again in the +morning. Youre a much better host than my stepson was; but Josh owed +me a bit of a grudge for marrying his mother; and between you and me +there was never anything but kindness. + +Mr. Bulstrode, hoping that the peculiar mixture of joviality and +sneering in Raffles manner was a good deal the effect of drink, had +determined to wait till he was quite sober before he spent more words +upon him. But he rode home with a terribly lucid vision of the +difficulty there would be in arranging any result that could be +permanently counted on with this man. It was inevitable that he should +wish to get rid of John Raffles, though his reappearance could not be +regarded as lying outside the divine plan. The spirit of evil might +have sent him to threaten Mr. Bulstrodes subversion as an instrument +of good; but the threat must have been permitted, and was a +chastisement of a new kind. It was an hour of anguish for him very +different from the hours in which his struggle had been securely +private, and which had ended with a sense that his secret misdeeds were +pardoned and his services accepted. Those misdeeds even when +committedhad they not been half sanctified by the singleness of his +desire to devote himself and all he possessed to the furtherance of the +divine scheme? And was he after all to become a mere stone of stumbling +and a rock of offence? For who would understand the work within him? +Who would not, when there was the pretext of casting disgrace upon him, +confound his whole life and the truths he had espoused, in one heap of +obloquy? + +In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Bulstrodes mind +clad his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to superhuman +ends. But even while we are talking and meditating about the earths +orbit and the solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is +the stable earth and the changing day. And now within all the automatic +succession of theoretic phrasesdistinct and inmost as the shiver and +the ache of oncoming fever when we are discussing abstract pain, was +the forecast of disgrace in the presence of his neighbors and of his +own wife. For the pain, as well as the public estimate of disgrace, +depends on the amount of previous profession. To men who only aim at +escaping felony, nothing short of the prisoners dock is disgrace. But +Mr. Bulstrode had aimed at being an eminent Christian. + +It was not more than half-past seven in the morning when he again +reached Stone Court. The fine old place never looked more like a +delightful home than at that moment; the great white lilies were in +flower, the nasturtiums, their pretty leaves all silvered with dew, +were running away over the low stone wall; the very noises all around +had a heart of peace within them. But everything was spoiled for the +owner as he walked on the gravel in front and awaited the descent of +Mr. Raffles, with whom he was condemned to breakfast. + +It was not long before they were seated together in the wainscoted +parlor over their tea and toast, which was as much as Raffles cared to +take at that early hour. The difference between his morning and evening +self was not so great as his companion had imagined that it might be; +the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the stronger because his +spirits were rather less highly pitched. Certainly his manners seemed +more disagreeable by the morning light. + +As I have little time to spare, Mr. Raffles, said the banker, who +could hardly do more than sip his tea and break his toast without +eating it, I shall be obliged if you will mention at once the ground +on which you wished to meet with me. I presume that you have a home +elsewhere and will be glad to return to it. + +Why, if a man has got any heart, doesnt he want to see an old friend, +Nick?I must call you Nickwe always did call you young Nick when we +knew you meant to marry the old widow. Some said you had a handsome +family likeness to old Nick, but that was your mothers fault, calling +you Nicholas. Arent you glad to see me again? I expected an invite to +stay with you at some pretty place. My own establishment is broken up +now my wifes dead. Ive no particular attachment to any spot; I would +as soon settle hereabout as anywhere. + +May I ask why you returned from America? I considered that the strong +wish you expressed to go there, when an adequate sum was furnished, was +tantamount to an engagement that you would remain there for life. + +Never knew that a wish to go to a place was the same thing as a wish +to stay. But I did stay a matter of ten years; it didnt suit me to +stay any longer. And Im not going again, Nick. Here Mr. Raffles +winked slowly as he looked at Mr. Bulstrode. + +Do you wish to be settled in any business? What is your calling now? + +Thank you, my calling is to enjoy myself as much as I can. I dont +care about working any more. If I did anything it would be a little +travelling in the tobacco lineor something of that sort, which takes a +man into agreeable company. But not without an independence to fall +back upon. Thats what I want: Im not so strong as I was, Nick, though +Ive got more color than you. I want an independence. + +That could be supplied to you, if you would engage to keep at a +distance, said Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a little too much eagerness +in his undertone. + +That must be as it suits my convenience, said Raffles coolly. I see +no reason why I shouldnt make a few acquaintances hereabout. Im not +ashamed of myself as company for anybody. I dropped my portmanteau at +the turnpike when I got downchange of linengenuinehonor brightmore +than fronts and wristbands; and with this suit of mourning, straps and +everything, I should do you credit among the nobs here. Mr. Raffles +had pushed away his chair and looked down at himself, particularly at +his straps. His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode, but he really +thought that his appearance now would produce a good effect, and that +he was not only handsome and witty, but clad in a mourning style which +implied solid connections. + +If you intend to rely on me in any way, Mr. Raffles, said Bulstrode, +after a moments pause, you will expect to meet my wishes. + +Ah, to be sure, said Raffles, with a mocking cordiality. Didnt I +always do it? Lord, you made a pretty thing out of me, and I got but +little. Ive often thought since, I might have done better by telling +the old woman that Id found her daughter and her grandchild: it would +have suited my feelings better; Ive got a soft place in my heart. But +youve buried the old lady by this time, I supposeits all one to her +now. And youve got your fortune out of that profitable business which +had such a blessing on it. Youve taken to being a nob, buying land, +being a country bashaw. Still in the Dissenting line, eh? Still godly? +Or taken to the Church as more genteel? + +This time Mr. Raffles slow wink and slight protrusion of his tongue +was worse than a nightmare, because it held the certitude that it was +not a nightmare, but a waking misery. Mr. Bulstrode felt a shuddering +nausea, and did not speak, but was considering diligently whether he +should not leave Raffles to do as he would, and simply defy him as a +slanderer. The man would soon show himself disreputable enough to make +people disbelieve him. But not when he tells any ugly-looking truth +about _you_, said discerning consciousness. And again: it seemed no +wrong to keep Raffles at a distance, but Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the +direct falsehood of denying true statements. It was one thing to look +back on forgiven sins, nay, to explain questionable conformity to lax +customs, and another to enter deliberately on the necessity of +falsehood. + +But since Bulstrode did not speak, Raffles ran on, by way of using time +to the utmost. + +Ive not had such fine luck as you, by Jove! Things went confoundedly +with me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and a man of +gentlemanly feelings has no chance with them. I married when I came +backa nice woman in the tobacco tradevery fond of mebut the trade +was restricted, as we say. She had been settled there a good many years +by a friend; but there was a son too much in the case. Josh and I never +hit it off. However, I made the most of the position, and Ive always +taken my glass in good company. Its been all on the square with me; +Im as open as the day. You wont take it ill of me that I didnt look +you up before. Ive got a complaint that makes me a little dilatory. I +thought you were trading and praying away in London still, and didnt +find you there. But you see I was sent to you, Nickperhaps for a +blessing to both of us. + +Mr. Raffles ended with a jocose snuffle: no man felt his intellect more +superior to religious cant. And if the cunning which calculates on the +meanest feelings in men could be called intellect, he had his share, +for under the blurting rallying tone with which he spoke to Bulstrode, +there was an evident selection of statements, as if they had been so +many moves at chess. Meanwhile Bulstrode had determined on his move, +and he said, with gathered resolution + +You will do well to reflect, Mr. Raffles, that it is possible for a +man to overreach himself in the effort to secure undue advantage. +Although I am not in any way bound to you, I am willing to supply you +with a regular annuityin quarterly paymentsso long as you fulfil a +promise to remain at a distance from this neighborhood. It is in your +power to choose. If you insist on remaining here, even for a short +time, you will get nothing from me. I shall decline to know you. + +Ha, ha! said Raffles, with an affected explosion, that reminds me of +a droll dog of a thief who declined to know the constable. + +Your allusions are lost on me sir, said Bulstrode, with white heat; +the law has no hold on me either through your agency or any other. + +You cant understand a joke, my good fellow. I only meant that I +should never decline to know you. But let us be serious. Your quarterly +payment wont quite suit me. I like my freedom. + +Here Raffles rose and stalked once or twice up and down the room, +swinging his leg, and assuming an air of masterly meditation. At last +he stopped opposite Bulstrode, and said, Ill tell you what! Give us a +couple of hundredscome, thats modestand Ill go awayhonor +bright!pick up my portmanteau and go away. But I shall not give up my +liberty for a dirty annuity. I shall come and go where I like. Perhaps +it may suit me to stay away, and correspond with a friend; perhaps not. +Have you the money with you? + +No, I have one hundred, said Bulstrode, feeling the immediate +riddance too great a relief to be rejected on the ground of future +uncertainties. I will forward you the other if you will mention an +address. + +No, Ill wait here till you bring it, said Raffles. Ill take a +stroll and have a snack, and youll be back by that time. + +Mr. Bulstrodes sickly body, shattered by the agitations he had gone +through since the last evening, made him feel abjectly in the power of +this loud invulnerable man. At that moment he snatched at a temporary +repose to be won on any terms. He was rising to do what Raffles +suggested, when the latter said, lifting up his finger as if with a +sudden recollection + +I did have another look after Sarah again, though I didnt tell you; +Id a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. I didnt find +her, but I found out her husbands name, and I made a note of it. But +hang it, I lost my pocketbook. However, if I heard it, I should know it +again. Ive got my faculties as if I was in my prime, but names wear +out, by Jove! Sometimes Im no better than a confounded tax-paper +before the names are filled in. However, if I hear of her and her +family, you shall know, Nick. Youd like to do something for her, now +shes your step-daughter. + +Doubtless, said Mr. Bulstrode, with the usual steady look of his +light-gray eyes; though that might reduce my power of assisting you. + +As he walked out of the room, Raffles winked slowly at his back, and +then turned towards the window to watch the banker riding +awayvirtually at his command. His lips first curled with a smile and +then opened with a short triumphant laugh. + +But what the deuce was the name? he presently said, half aloud, +scratching his head, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. He had not +really cared or thought about this point of forgetfulness until it +occurred to him in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. + +It began with L; it was almost all ls I fancy, he went on, with a +sense that he was getting hold of the slippery name. But the hold was +too slight, and he soon got tired of this mental chase; for few men +were more impatient of private occupation or more in need of making +themselves continually heard than Mr. Raffles. He preferred using his +time in pleasant conversation with the bailiff and the housekeeper, +from whom he gathered as much as he wanted to know about Mr. +Bulstrodes position in Middlemarch. + +After all, however, there was a dull space of time which needed +relieving with bread and cheese and ale, and when he was seated alone +with these resources in the wainscoted parlor, he suddenly slapped his +knee, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! That action of memory which he had +tried to set going, and had abandoned in despair, had suddenly +completed itself without conscious efforta common experience, +agreeable as a completed sneeze, even if the name remembered is of no +value. Raffles immediately took out his pocket-book, and wrote down the +name, not because he expected to use it, but merely for the sake of not +being at a loss if he ever did happen to want it. He was not going to +tell Bulstrode: there was no actual good in telling, and to a mind like +that of Mr. Raffles there is always probable good in a secret. + +He was satisfied with his present success, and by three oclock that +day he had taken up his portmanteau at the turnpike and mounted the +coach, relieving Mr. Bulstrodes eyes of an ugly black spot on the +landscape at Stone Court, but not relieving him of the dread that the +black spot might reappear and become inseparable even from the vision +of his hearth. + + + + +BOOK VI. +THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +Negli occhi porta la mia donna Amore; +Per che si fa gentil ci chella mira: +Ovella passa, ogni uom ver lei si gira, +E cui saluta fa tremar lo core. + +Sicch, bassando il viso, tutto smore, +E dogni suo difetto allor sospira: +Fuggon dinanzi a lei Superbia ed Ira: +Aiutatemi, donne, a farle onore. + +Ogni dolcezza, ogni pensiero umile +Nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente; +Ond beato chi prima la vide. +Quel chella par quand un poco sorride, +Non si pu dicer, n tener a mente, +Si nuovo miracolo gentile. +DANTE: _La Vita Nuova_. + + +By that delightful morning when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were +scenting the air quite impartially, as if Mr. Raffles had been a guest +worthy of finest incense, Dorothea had again taken up her abode at +Lowick Manor. After three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: +to sit like a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celias +baby would not do for many hours in the day, and to remain in that +momentous babes presence with persistent disregard was a course that +could not have been tolerated in a childless sister. Dorothea would +have been capable of carrying baby joyfully for a mile if there had +been need, and of loving it the more tenderly for that labor; but to an +aunt who does not recognize her infant nephew as Bouddha, and has +nothing to do for him but to admire, his behavior is apt to appear +monotonous, and the interest of watching him exhaustible. This +possibility was quite hidden from Celia, who felt that Dorotheas +childless widowhood fell in quite prettily with the birth of little +Arthur (baby was named after Mr. Brooke). + +Dodo is just the creature not to mind about having anything of her +ownchildren or anything! said Celia to her husband. And if she had +had a baby, it never could have been such a dear as Arthur. Could it, +James? + +Not if it had been like Casaubon, said Sir James, conscious of some +indirectness in his answer, and of holding a strictly private opinion +as to the perfections of his first-born. + +No! just imagine! Really it was a mercy, said Celia; and I think it +is very nice for Dodo to be a widow. She can be just as fond of our +baby as if it were her own, and she can have as many notions of her own +as she likes. + +It is a pity she was not a queen, said the devout Sir James. + +But what should we have been then? We must have been something else, +said Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination. I like +her better as she is. + +Hence, when she found that Dorothea was making arrangements for her +final departure to Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with +disappointment, and in her quiet unemphatic way shot a needle-arrow of +sarcasm. + +What will you do at Lowick, Dodo? You say yourself there is nothing to +be done there: everybody is so clean and well off, it makes you quite +melancholy. And here you have been so happy going all about Tipton with +Mr. Garth into the worst backyards. And now uncle is abroad, you and +Mr. Garth can have it all your own way; and I am sure James does +everything you tell him. + +I shall often come here, and I shall see how baby grows all the +better, said Dorothea. + +But you will never see him washed, said Celia; and that is quite the +best part of the day. She was almost pouting: it did seem to her very +hard in Dodo to go away from the baby when she might stay. + +Dear Kitty, I will come and stay all night on purpose, said Dorothea; +but I want to be alone now, and in my own home. I wish to know the +Farebrothers better, and to talk to Mr. Farebrother about what there is +to be done in Middlemarch. + +Dorotheas native strength of will was no longer all converted into +resolute submission. She had a great yearning to be at Lowick, and was +simply determined to go, not feeling bound to tell all her reasons. But +every one around her disapproved. Sir James was much pained, and +offered that they should all migrate to Cheltenham for a few months +with the sacred ark, otherwise called a cradle: at that period a man +could hardly know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected. + +The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from a visit to her daughter in +town, wished, at least, that Mrs. Vigo should be written to, and +invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs. Casaubon: it was not +credible that Dorothea as a young widow would think of living alone in +the house at Lowick. Mrs. Vigo had been reader and secretary to royal +personages, and in point of knowledge and sentiments even Dorothea +could have nothing to object to her. + +Mrs. Cadwallader said, privately, You will certainly go mad in that +house alone, my dear. You will see visions. We have all got to exert +ourselves a little to keep sane, and call things by the same names as +other people call them by. To be sure, for younger sons and women who +have no money, it is a sort of provision to go mad: they are taken care +of then. But you must not run into that. I dare say you are a little +bored here with our good dowager; but think what a bore you might +become yourself to your fellow-creatures if you were always playing +tragedy queen and taking things sublimely. Sitting alone in that +library at Lowick you may fancy yourself ruling the weather; you must +get a few people round you who wouldnt believe you if you told them. +That is a good lowering medicine. + +I never called everything by the same name that all the people about +me did, said Dorothea, stoutly. + +But I suppose you have found out your mistake, my dear, said Mrs. +Cadwallader, and that is a proof of sanity. + +Dorothea was aware of the sting, but it did not hurt her. No, she +said, I still think that the greater part of the world is mistaken +about many things. Surely one may be sane and yet think so, since the +greater part of the world has often had to come round from its +opinion. + +Mrs. Cadwallader said no more on that point to Dorothea, but to her +husband she remarked, It will be well for her to marry again as soon +as it is proper, if one could get her among the right people. Of course +the Chettams would not wish it. But I see clearly a husband is the best +thing to keep her in order. If we were not so poor I would invite Lord +Triton. He will be marquis some day, and there is no denying that she +would make a good marchioness: she looks handsomer than ever in her +mourning. + +My dear Elinor, do let the poor woman alone. Such contrivances are of +no use, said the easy Rector. + +No use? How are matches made, except by bringing men and women +together? And it is a shame that her uncle should have run away and +shut up the Grange just now. There ought to be plenty of eligible +matches invited to Freshitt and the Grange. Lord Triton is precisely +the man: full of plans for making the people happy in a soft-headed +sort of way. That would just suit Mrs. Casaubon. + +Let Mrs. Casaubon choose for herself, Elinor. + +That is the nonsense you wise men talk! How can she choose if she has +no variety to choose from? A womans choice usually means taking the +only man she can get. Mark my words, Humphrey. If her friends dont +exert themselves, there will be a worse business than the Casaubon +business yet. + +For heavens sake dont touch on that topic, Elinor! It is a very sore +point with Sir James. He would be deeply offended if you entered on it +to him unnecessarily. + +I have never entered on it, said Mrs Cadwallader, opening her hands. +Celia told me all about the will at the beginning, without any asking +of mine. + +Yes, yes; but they want the thing hushed up, and I understand that the +young fellow is going out of the neighborhood. + +Mrs. Cadwallader said nothing, but gave her husband three significant +nods, with a very sarcastic expression in her dark eyes. + +Dorothea quietly persisted in spite of remonstrance and persuasion. So +by the end of June the shutters were all opened at Lowick Manor, and +the morning gazed calmly into the library, shining on the rows of +note-books as it shines on the weary waste planted with huge stones, +the mute memorial of a forgotten faith; and the evening laden with +roses entered silently into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose +oftenest to sit. At first she walked into every room, questioning the +eighteen months of her married life, and carrying on her thoughts as if +they were a speech to be heard by her husband. Then, she lingered in +the library and could not be at rest till she had carefully ranged all +the note-books as she imagined that he would wish to see them, in +orderly sequence. The pity which had been the restraining compelling +motive in her life with him still clung about his image, even while she +remonstrated with him in indignant thought and told him that he was +unjust. One little act of hers may perhaps be smiled at as +superstitious. The Synoptical Tabulation for the use of Mrs. Casaubon, +she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within the envelope, I +could not use it. Do you not see now that I could not submit my soul to +yours, by working hopelessly at what I have no belief inDorothea? +Then she deposited the paper in her own desk. + +That silent colloquy was perhaps only the more earnest because +underneath and through it all there was always the deep longing which +had really determined her to come to Lowick. The longing was to see +Will Ladislaw. She did not know any good that could come of their +meeting: she was helpless; her hands had been tied from making up to +him for any unfairness in his lot. But her soul thirsted to see him. +How could it be otherwise? If a princess in the days of enchantment had +seen a four-footed creature from among those which live in herds come +to her once and again with a human gaze which rested upon her with +choice and beseeching, what would she think of in her journeying, what +would she look for when the herds passed her? Surely for the gaze which +had found her, and which she would know again. Life would be no better +than candle-light tinsel and daylight rubbish if our spirits were not +touched by what has been, to issues of longing and constancy. It was +true that Dorothea wanted to know the Farebrothers better, and +especially to talk to the new rector, but also true that remembering +what Lydgate had told her about Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, +she counted on Wills coming to Lowick to see the Farebrother family. +The very first Sunday, _before_ she entered the church, she saw him as +she had seen him the last time she was there, alone in the clergymans +pew; but _when_ she entered his figure was gone. + +In the week-days when she went to see the ladies at the Rectory, she +listened in vain for some word that they might let fall about Will; but +it seemed to her that Mrs. Farebrother talked of every one else in the +neighborhood and out of it. + +Probably some of Mr. Farebrothers Middlemarch hearers may follow him +to Lowick sometimes. Do you not think so? said Dorothea, rather +despising herself for having a secret motive in asking the question. + +If they are wise they will, Mrs. Casaubon, said the old lady. I see +that you set a right value on my sons preaching. His grandfather on my +side was an excellent clergyman, but his father was in the law:most +exemplary and honest nevertheless, which is a reason for our never +being rich. They say Fortune is a woman and capricious. But sometimes +she is a good woman and gives to those who merit, which has been the +case with you, Mrs. Casaubon, who have given a living to my son. + +Mrs. Farebrother recurred to her knitting with a dignified satisfaction +in her neat little effort at oratory, but this was not what Dorothea +wanted to hear. Poor thing! she did not even know whether Will Ladislaw +was still at Middlemarch, and there was no one whom she dared to ask, +unless it were Lydgate. But just now she could not see Lydgate without +sending for him or going to seek him. Perhaps Will Ladislaw, having +heard of that strange ban against him left by Mr. Casaubon, had felt it +better that he and she should not meet again, and perhaps she was wrong +to wish for a meeting that others might find many good reasons against. +Still I do wish it came at the end of those wise reflections as +naturally as a sob after holding the breath. And the meeting did +happen, but in a formal way quite unexpected by her. + +One morning, about eleven, Dorothea was seated in her boudoir with a +map of the land attached to the manor and other papers before her, +which were to help her in making an exact statement for herself of her +income and affairs. She had not yet applied herself to her work, but +was seated with her hands folded on her lap, looking out along the +avenue of limes to the distant fields. Every leaf was at rest in the +sunshine, the familiar scene was changeless, and seemed to represent +the prospect of her life, full of motiveless easemotiveless, if her +own energy could not seek out reasons for ardent action. The widows +cap of those times made an oval frame for the face, and had a crown +standing up; the dress was an experiment in the utmost laying on of +crape; but this heavy solemnity of clothing made her face look all the +younger, with its recovered bloom, and the sweet, inquiring candor of +her eyes. + +Her reverie was broken by Tantripp, who came to say that Mr. Ladislaw +was below, and begged permission to see Madam if it were not too early. + +I will see him, said Dorothea, rising immediately. Let him be shown +into the drawing-room. + +The drawing-room was the most neutral room in the house to herthe one +least associated with the trials of her married life: the damask +matched the wood-work, which was all white and gold; there were two +tall mirrors and tables with nothing on themin brief, it was a room +where you had no reason for sitting in one place rather than in +another. It was below the boudoir, and had also a bow-window looking +out on the avenue. But when Pratt showed Will Ladislaw into it the +window was open; and a winged visitor, buzzing in and out now and then +without minding the furniture, made the room look less formal and +uninhabited. + +Glad to see you here again, sir, said Pratt, lingering to adjust a +blind. + +I am only come to say good-by, Pratt, said Will, who wished even the +butler to know that he was too proud to hang about Mrs. Casaubon now +she was a rich widow. + +Very sorry to hear it, sir, said Pratt, retiring. Of course, as a +servant who was to be told nothing, he knew the fact of which Ladislaw +was still ignorant, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, had not +differed from his betrothed Tantripp when she said, Your master was as +jealous as a fiendand no reason. Madam would look higher than Mr. +Ladislaw, else I dont know her. Mrs. Cadwalladers maid says theres a +lord coming who is to marry her when the mournings over. + +There were not many moments for Will to walk about with his hat in his +hand before Dorothea entered. The meeting was very different from that +first meeting in Rome when Will had been embarrassed and Dorothea calm. +This time he felt miserable but determined, while she was in a state of +agitation which could not be hidden. Just outside the door she had felt +that this longed-for meeting was after all too difficult, and when she +saw Will advancing towards her, the deep blush which was rare in her +came with painful suddenness. Neither of them knew how it was, but +neither of them spoke. She gave her hand for a moment, and then they +went to sit down near the window, she on one settee and he on another +opposite. Will was peculiarly uneasy: it seemed to him not like +Dorothea that the mere fact of her being a widow should cause such a +change in her manner of receiving him; and he knew of no other +condition which could have affected their previous relation to each +otherexcept that, as his imagination at once told him, her friends +might have been poisoning her mind with their suspicions of him. + +I hope I have not presumed too much in calling, said Will; I could +not bear to leave the neighborhood and begin a new life without seeing +you to say good-by. + +Presumed? Surely not. I should have thought it unkind if you had not +wished to see me, said Dorothea, her habit of speaking with perfect +genuineness asserting itself through all her uncertainty and agitation. +Are you going away immediately? + +Very soon, I think. I intend to go to town and eat my dinners as a +barrister, since, they say, that is the preparation for all public +business. There will be a great deal of political work to be done +by-and-by, and I mean to try and do some of it. Other men have managed +to win an honorable position for themselves without family or money. + +And that will make it all the more honorable, said Dorothea, +ardently. Besides, you have so many talents. I have heard from my +uncle how well you speak in public, so that every one is sorry when you +leave off, and how clearly you can explain things. And you care that +justice should be done to every one. I am so glad. When we were in +Rome, I thought you only cared for poetry and art, and the things that +adorn life for us who are well off. But now I know you think about the +rest of the world. + +While she was speaking Dorothea had lost her personal embarrassment, +and had become like her former self. She looked at Will with a direct +glance, full of delighted confidence. + +You approve of my going away for years, then, and never coming here +again till I have made myself of some mark in the world? said Will, +trying hard to reconcile the utmost pride with the utmost effort to get +an expression of strong feeling from Dorothea. + +She was not aware how long it was before she answered. She had turned +her head and was looking out of the window on the rose-bushes, which +seemed to have in them the summers of all the years when Will would be +away. This was not judicious behavior. But Dorothea never thought of +studying her manners: she thought only of bowing to a sad necessity +which divided her from Will. Those first words of his about his +intentions had seemed to make everything clear to her: he knew, she +supposed, all about Mr. Casaubons final conduct in relation to him, +and it had come to him with the same sort of shock as to herself. He +had never felt more than friendship for herhad never had anything in +his mind to justify what she felt to be her husbands outrage on the +feelings of both: and that friendship he still felt. Something which +may be called an inward silent sob had gone on in Dorothea before she +said with a pure voice, just trembling in the last words as if only +from its liquid flexibility + +Yes, it must be right for you to do as you say. I shall be very happy +when I hear that you have made your value felt. But you must have +patience. It will perhaps be a long while. + +Will never quite knew how it was that he saved himself from falling +down at her feet, when the long while came forth with its gentle +tremor. He used to say that the horrible hue and surface of her crape +dress was most likely the sufficient controlling force. He sat still, +however, and only said + +I shall never hear from you. And you will forget all about me. + +No, said Dorothea, I shall never forget you. I have never forgotten +any one whom I once knew. My life has never been crowded, and seems not +likely to be so. And I have a great deal of space for memory at Lowick, +havent I? She smiled. + +Good God! Will burst out passionately, rising, with his hat still in +his hand, and walking away to a marble table, where he suddenly turned +and leaned his back against it. The blood had mounted to his face and +neck, and he looked almost angry. It had seemed to him as if they were +like two creatures slowly turning to marble in each others presence, +while their hearts were conscious and their eyes were yearning. But +there was no help for it. It should never be true of him that in this +meeting to which he had come with bitter resolution he had ended by a +confession which might be interpreted into asking for her fortune. +Moreover, it was actually true that he was fearful of the effect which +such confessions might have on Dorothea herself. + +She looked at him from that distance in some trouble, imagining that +there might have been an offence in her words. But all the while there +was a current of thought in her about his probable want of money, and +the impossibility of her helping him. If her uncle had been at home, +something might have been done through him! It was this preoccupation +with the hardship of Wills wanting money, while she had what ought to +have been his share, which led her to say, seeing that he remained +silent and looked away from her + +I wonder whether you would like to have that miniature which hangs +up-stairsI mean that beautiful miniature of your grandmother. I think +it is not right for me to keep it, if you would wish to have it. It is +wonderfully like you. + +You are very good, said Will, irritably. No; I dont mind about it. +It is not very consoling to have ones own likeness. It would be more +consoling if others wanted to have it. + +I thought you would like to cherish her memoryI thought Dorothea +broke off an instant, her imagination suddenly warning her away from +Aunt Julias historyyou would surely like to have the miniature as a +family memorial. + +Why should I have that, when I have nothing else! A man with only a +portmanteau for his stowage must keep his memorials in his head. + +Will spoke at random: he was merely venting his petulance; it was a +little too exasperating to have his grandmothers portrait offered him +at that moment. But to Dorotheas feeling his words had a peculiar +sting. She rose and said with a touch of indignation as well as +hauteur + +You are much the happier of us two, Mr. Ladislaw, to have nothing. + +Will was startled. Whatever the words might be, the tone seemed like a +dismissal; and quitting his leaning posture, he walked a little way +towards her. Their eyes met, but with a strange questioning gravity. +Something was keeping their minds aloof, and each was left to +conjecture what was in the other. Will had really never thought of +himself as having a claim of inheritance on the property which was held +by Dorothea, and would have required a narrative to make him understand +her present feeling. + +I never felt it a misfortune to have nothing till now, he said. But +poverty may be as bad as leprosy, if it divides us from what we most +care for. + +The words cut Dorothea to the heart, and made her relent. She answered +in a tone of sad fellowship. + +Sorrow comes in so many ways. Two years ago I had no notion of thatI +mean of the unexpected way in which trouble comes, and ties our hands, +and makes us silent when we long to speak. I used to despise women a +little for not shaping their lives more, and doing better things. I was +very fond of doing as I liked, but I have almost given it up, she +ended, smiling playfully. + +I have not given up doing as I like, but I can very seldom do it, +said Will. He was standing two yards from her with his mind full of +contradictory desires and resolvesdesiring some unmistakable proof +that she loved him, and yet dreading the position into which such a +proof might bring him. The thing one most longs for may be surrounded +with conditions that would be intolerable. + +At this moment Pratt entered and said, Sir James Chettam is in the +library, madam. + +Ask Sir James to come in here, said Dorothea, immediately. It was as +if the same electric shock had passed through her and Will. Each of +them felt proudly resistant, and neither looked at the other, while +they awaited Sir Jamess entrance. + +After shaking hands with Dorothea, he bowed as slightly as possible to +Ladislaw, who repaid the slightness exactly, and then going towards +Dorothea, said + +I must say good-by, Mrs. Casaubon; and probably for a long while. + +Dorothea put out her hand and said her good-by cordially. The sense +that Sir James was depreciating Will, and behaving rudely to him, +roused her resolution and dignity: there was no touch of confusion in +her manner. And when Will had left the room, she looked with such calm +self-possession at Sir James, saying, How is Celia? that he was +obliged to behave as if nothing had annoyed him. And what would be the +use of behaving otherwise? Indeed, Sir James shrank with so much +dislike from the association even in thought of Dorothea with Ladislaw +as her possible lover, that he would himself have wished to avoid an +outward show of displeasure which would have recognized the +disagreeable possibility. If any one had asked him why he shrank in +that way, I am not sure that he would at first have said anything +fuller or more precise than _That_ Ladislaw!though on reflection he +might have urged that Mr. Casaubons codicil, barring Dorotheas +marriage with Will, except under a penalty, was enough to cast +unfitness over any relation at all between them. His aversion was all +the stronger because he felt himself unable to interfere. + +But Sir James was a power in a way unguessed by himself. Entering at +that moment, he was an incorporation of the strongest reasons through +which Wills pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from +Dorothea. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +Hath she her faults? I would you had them too. +They are the fruity must of soundest wine; +Or say, they are regenerating fire +Such as hath turned the dense black element +Into a crystal pathway for the sun. + + +If youth is the season of hope, it is often so only in the sense that +our elders are hopeful about us; for no age is so apt as youth to think +its emotions, partings, and resolves are the last of their kind. Each +crisis seems final, simply because it is new. We are told that the +oldest inhabitants in Peru do not cease to be agitated by the +earthquakes, but they probably see beyond each shock, and reflect that +there are plenty more to come. + +To Dorothea, still in that time of youth when the eyes with their long +full lashes look out after their rain of tears unsoiled and unwearied +as a freshly opened passion-flower, that mornings parting with Will +Ladislaw seemed to be the close of their personal relations. He was +going away into the distance of unknown years, and if ever he came back +he would be another man. The actual state of his mindhis proud resolve +to give the lie beforehand to any suspicion that he would play the +needy adventurer seeking a rich womanlay quite out of her imagination, +and she had interpreted all his behavior easily enough by her +supposition that Mr. Casaubons codicil seemed to him, as it did to +her, a gross and cruel interdict on any active friendship between them. +Their young delight in speaking to each other, and saying what no one +else would care to hear, was forever ended, and become a treasure of +the past. For this very reason she dwelt on it without inward check. +That unique happiness too was dead, and in its shadowed silent chamber +she might vent the passionate grief which she herself wondered at. For +the first time she took down the miniature from the wall and kept it +before her, liking to blend the woman who had been too hardly judged +with the grandson whom her own heart and judgment defended. Can any one +who has rejoiced in womans tenderness think it a reproach to her that +she took the little oval picture in her palm and made a bed for it +there, and leaned her cheek upon it, as if that would soothe the +creatures who had suffered unjust condemnation? She did not know then +that it was Love who had come to her briefly, as in a dream before +awaking, with the hues of morning on his wingsthat it was Love to whom +she was sobbing her farewell as his image was banished by the blameless +rigor of irresistible day. She only felt that there was something +irrevocably amiss and lost in her lot, and her thoughts about the +future were the more readily shapen into resolve. Ardent souls, ready +to construct their coming lives, are apt to commit themselves to the +fulfilment of their own visions. + +One day that she went to Freshitt to fulfil her promise of staying all +night and seeing baby washed, Mrs. Cadwallader came to dine, the Rector +being gone on a fishing excursion. It was a warm evening, and even in +the delightful drawing-room, where the fine old turf sloped from the +open window towards a lilied pool and well-planted mounds, the heat was +enough to make Celia in her white muslin and light curls reflect with +pity on what Dodo must feel in her black dress and close cap. But this +was not until some episodes with baby were over, and had left her mind +at leisure. She had seated herself and taken up a fan for some time +before she said, in her quiet guttural + +Dear Dodo, do throw off that cap. I am sure your dress must make you +feel ill. + +I am so used to the capit has become a sort of shell, said Dorothea, +smiling. I feel rather bare and exposed when it is off. + +I must see you without it; it makes us all warm, said Celia, throwing +down her fan, and going to Dorothea. It was a pretty picture to see +this little lady in white muslin unfastening the widows cap from her +more majestic sister, and tossing it on to a chair. Just as the coils +and braids of dark-brown hair had been set free, Sir James entered the +room. He looked at the released head, and said, Ah! in a tone of +satisfaction. + +It was I who did it, James, said Celia. Dodo need not make such a +slavery of her mourning; she need not wear that cap any more among her +friends. + +My dear Celia, said Lady Chettam, a widow must wear her mourning at +least a year. + +Not if she marries again before the end of it, said Mrs. Cadwallader, +who had some pleasure in startling her good friend the Dowager. Sir +James was annoyed, and leaned forward to play with Celias Maltese dog. + +That is very rare, I hope, said Lady Chettam, in a tone intended to +guard against such events. No friend of ours ever committed herself in +that way except Mrs. Beevor, and it was very painful to Lord Grinsell +when she did so. Her first husband was objectionable, which made it the +greater wonder. And severely she was punished for it. They said Captain +Beevor dragged her about by the hair, and held up loaded pistols at +her. + +Oh, if she took the wrong man! said Mrs. Cadwallader, who was in a +decidedly wicked mood. Marriage is always bad then, first or second. +Priority is a poor recommendation in a husband if he has got no other. +I would rather have a good second husband than an indifferent first. + +My dear, your clever tongue runs away with you, said Lady Chettam. I +am sure you would be the last woman to marry again prematurely, if our +dear Rector were taken away. + +Oh, I make no vows; it might be a necessary economy. It is lawful to +marry again, I suppose; else we might as well be Hindoos instead of +Christians. Of course if a woman accepts the wrong man, she must take +the consequences, and one who does it twice over deserves her fate. But +if she can marry blood, beauty, and braverythe sooner the better. + +I think the subject of our conversation is very ill-chosen, said Sir +James, with a look of disgust. Suppose we change it. + +Not on my account, Sir James, said Dorothea, determined not to lose +the opportunity of freeing herself from certain oblique references to +excellent matches. If you are speaking on my behalf, I can assure you +that no question can be more indifferent and impersonal to me than +second marriage. It is no more to me than if you talked of women going +fox-hunting: whether it is admirable in them or not, I shall not follow +them. Pray let Mrs. Cadwallader amuse herself on that subject as much +as on any other. + +My dear Mrs. Casaubon, said Lady Chettam, in her stateliest way, you +do not, I hope, think there was any allusion to you in my mentioning +Mrs. Beevor. It was only an instance that occurred to me. She was +step-daughter to Lord Grinsell: he married Mrs. Teveroy for his second +wife. There could be no possible allusion to you. + +Oh no, said Celia. Nobody chose the subject; it all came out of +Dodos cap. Mrs. Cadwallader only said what was quite true. A woman +could not be married in a widows cap, James. + +Hush, my dear! said Mrs. Cadwallader. I will not offend again. I +will not even refer to Dido or Zenobia. Only what are we to talk about? +I, for my part, object to the discussion of Human Nature, because that +is the nature of rectors wives. + +Later in the evening, after Mrs. Cadwallader was gone, Celia said +privately to Dorothea, Really, Dodo, taking your cap off made you like +yourself again in more ways than one. You spoke up just as you used to +do, when anything was said to displease you. But I could hardly make +out whether it was James that you thought wrong, or Mrs. Cadwallader. + +Neither, said Dorothea. James spoke out of delicacy to me, but he +was mistaken in supposing that I minded what Mrs. Cadwallader said. I +should only mind if there were a law obliging me to take any piece of +blood and beauty that she or anybody else recommended. + +But you know, Dodo, if you ever did marry, it would be all the better +to have blood and beauty, said Celia, reflecting that Mr. Casaubon had +not been richly endowed with those gifts, and that it would be well to +caution Dorothea in time. + +Dont be anxious, Kitty; I have quite other thoughts about my life. I +shall never marry again, said Dorothea, touching her sisters chin, +and looking at her with indulgent affection. Celia was nursing her +baby, and Dorothea had come to say good-night to her. + +Reallyquite? said Celia. Not anybody at allif he were very +wonderful indeed? + +Dorothea shook her head slowly. Not anybody at all. I have delightful +plans. I should like to take a great deal of land, and drain it, and +make a little colony, where everybody should work, and all the work +should be done well. I should know every one of the people and be their +friend. I am going to have great consultations with Mr. Garth: he can +tell me almost everything I want to know. + +Then you _will_ be happy, if you have a plan, Dodo? said Celia. +Perhaps little Arthur will like plans when he grows up, and then he +can help you. + +Sir James was informed that same night that Dorothea was really quite +set against marrying anybody at all, and was going to take to all +sorts of plans, just like what she used to have. Sir James made no +remark. To his secret feeling there was something repulsive in a +womans second marriage, and no match would prevent him from feeling it +a sort of desecration for Dorothea. He was aware that the world would +regard such a sentiment as preposterous, especially in relation to a +woman of one-and-twenty; the practice of the world being to treat of +a young widows second marriage as certain and probably near, and to +smile with meaning if the widow acts accordingly. But if Dorothea did +choose to espouse her solitude, he felt that the resolution would well +become her. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +How happy is he born and taught +That serveth not anothers will; +Whose armor is his honest thought, +And simple truth his only skill! +. . . . . . . +This man is freed from servile bands +Of hope to rise or fear to fall; +Lord of himself though not of lands; +And having nothing yet hath all. +SIR HENRY WOTTON. + + +Dorotheas confidence in Caleb Garths knowledge, which had begun on +her hearing that he approved of her cottages, had grown fast during her +stay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to take rides over the +two estates in company with himself and Caleb, who quite returned her +admiration, and told his wife that Mrs. Casaubon had a head for +business most uncommon in a woman. It must be remembered that by +business Caleb never meant money transactions, but the skilful +application of labor. + +Most uncommon! repeated Caleb. She said a thing I often used to +think myself when I was a lad:Mr. Garth, I should like to feel, if I +lived to be old, that I had improved a great piece of land and built a +great many good cottages, because the work is of a healthy kind while +it is being done, and after it is done, men are the better for it. +Those were the very words: she sees into things in that way. + +But womanly, I hope, said Mrs. Garth, half suspecting that Mrs. +Casaubon might not hold the true principle of subordination. + +Oh, you cant think! said Caleb, shaking his head. You would like to +hear her speak, Susan. She speaks in such plain words, and a voice like +music. Bless me! it reminds me of bits in the Messiahand +straightway there appeared a multitude of the heavenly host, praising +God and saying; it has a tone with it that satisfies your ear. + +Caleb was very fond of music, and when he could afford it went to hear +an oratorio that came within his reach, returning from it with a +profound reverence for this mighty structure of tones, which made him +sit meditatively, looking on the floor and throwing much unutterable +language into his outstretched hands. + +With this good understanding between them, it was natural that Dorothea +asked Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the three +farms and the numerous tenements attached to Lowick Manor; indeed, his +expectation of getting work for two was being fast fulfilled. As he +said, Business breeds. And one form of business which was beginning +to breed just then was the construction of railways. A projected line +was to run through Lowick parish where the cattle had hitherto grazed +in a peace unbroken by astonishment; and thus it happened that the +infant struggles of the railway system entered into the affairs of +Caleb Garth, and determined the course of this history with regard to +two persons who were dear to him. The submarine railway may have its +difficulties; but the bed of the sea is not divided among various +landed proprietors with claims for damages not only measurable but +sentimental. In the hundred to which Middlemarch belonged railways were +as exciting a topic as the Reform Bill or the imminent horrors of +Cholera, and those who held the most decided views on the subject were +women and landholders. Women both old and young regarded travelling by +steam as presumptuous and dangerous, and argued against it by saying +that nothing should induce them to get into a railway carriage; while +proprietors, differing from each other in their arguments as much as +Mr. Solomon Featherstone differed from Lord Medlicote, were yet +unanimous in the opinion that in selling land, whether to the Enemy of +mankind or to a company obliged to purchase, these pernicious agencies +must be made to pay a very high price to landowners for permission to +injure mankind. + +But the slower wits, such as Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Waule, who both +occupied land of their own, took a long time to arrive at this +conclusion, their minds halting at the vivid conception of what it +would be to cut the Big Pasture in two, and turn it into three-cornered +bits, which would be nohow; while accommodation-bridges and high +payments were remote and incredible. + +The cows will all cast their calves, brother, said Mrs. Waule, in a +tone of deep melancholy, if the railway comes across the Near Close; +and I shouldnt wonder at the mare too, if she was in foal. Its a poor +tale if a widows property is to be spaded away, and the law say +nothing to it. Whats to hinder em from cutting right and left if they +begin? Its well known, _I_ cant fight. + +The best way would be to say nothing, and set somebody on to send em +away with a flea in their ear, when they came spying and measuring, +said Solomon. Folks did that about Brassing, by what I can understand. +Its all a pretence, if the truth was known, about their being forced +to take one way. Let em go cutting in another parish. And I dont +believe in any pay to make amends for bringing a lot of ruffians to +trample your crops. Wheres a companys pocket? + +Brother Peter, God forgive him, got money out of a company, said Mrs. +Waule. But that was for the manganese. That wasnt for railways to +blow you to pieces right and left. + +Well, theres this to be said, Jane, Mr. Solomon concluded, lowering +his voice in a cautious mannerthe more spokes we put in their wheel, +the more theyll pay us to let em go on, if they must come whether or +not. + +This reasoning of Mr. Solomons was perhaps less thorough than he +imagined, his cunning bearing about the same relation to the course of +railways as the cunning of a diplomatist bears to the general chill or +catarrh of the solar system. But he set about acting on his views in a +thoroughly diplomatic manner, by stimulating suspicion. His side of +Lowick was the most remote from the village, and the houses of the +laboring people were either lone cottages or were collected in a hamlet +called Frick, where a water-mill and some stone-pits made a little +centre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry. + +In the absence of any precise idea as to what railways were, public +opinion in Frick was against them; for the human mind in that grassy +corner had not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, holding +rather that it was likely to be against the poor man, and that +suspicion was the only wise attitude with regard to it. Even the rumor +of Reform had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick, +there being no definite promise in it, as of gratuitous grains to +fatten Hiram Fords pig, or of a publican at the Weights and Scales +who would brew beer for nothing, or of an offer on the part of the +three neighboring farmers to raise wages during winter. And without +distinct good of this kind in its promises, Reform seemed on a footing +with the bragging of pedlers, which was a hint for distrust to every +knowing person. The men of Frick were not ill-fed, and were less given +to fanaticism than to a strong muscular suspicion; less inclined to +believe that they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to regard +heaven itself as rather disposed to take them ina disposition +observable in the weather. + +Thus the mind of Frick was exactly of the sort for Mr. Solomon +Featherstone to work upon, he having more plenteous ideas of the same +order, with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was better fed and +more entirely at leisure. Solomon was overseer of the roads at that +time, and on his slow-paced cob often took his rounds by Frick to look +at the workmen getting the stones there, pausing with a mysterious +deliberation, which might have misled you into supposing that he had +some other reason for staying than the mere want of impulse to move. +After looking for a long while at any work that was going on, he would +raise his eyes a little and look at the horizon; finally he would shake +his bridle, touch his horse with the whip, and get it to move slowly +onward. The hour-hand of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr. +Solomon, who had an agreeable sense that he could afford to be slow. He +was in the habit of pausing for a cautious, vaguely designing chat with +every hedger or ditcher on his way, and was especially willing to +listen even to news which he had heard before, feeling himself at an +advantage over all narrators in partially disbelieving them. One day, +however, he got into a dialogue with Hiram Ford, a wagoner, in which he +himself contributed information. He wished to know whether Hiram had +seen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they called +themselves railroad people, but there was no telling what they were or +what they meant to do. The least they pretended was that they were +going to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens. + +Why, therell be no stirrin from one pla-ace to another, said Hiram, +thinking of his wagon and horses. + +Not a bit, said Mr. Solomon. And cutting up fine land such as this +parish! Let em go into Tipton, say I. But theres no knowing what +there is at the bottom of it. Traffic is what they put forard; but +its to do harm to the land and the poor man in the long-run. + +Why, theyre Lunnon chaps, I reckon, said Hiram, who had a dim notion +of London as a centre of hostility to the country. + +Ay, to be sure. And in some parts against Brassing, by what Ive heard +say, the folks fell on em when they were spying, and broke their +peep-holes as they carry, and drove em away, so as they knew better +than come again. + +It war good foon, Id be bound, said Hiram, whose fun was much +restricted by circumstances. + +Well, I wouldnt meddle with em myself, said Solomon. But some say +this countrys seen its best days, and the sign is, as its being +overrun with these fellows trampling right and left, and wanting to cut +it up into railways; and all for the big traffic to swallow up the +little, so as there shant be a team left on the land, nor a whip to +crack. + +Ill crack _my_ whip about their earn, afore they bring it to that, +though, said Hiram, while Mr. Solomon, shaking his bridle, moved +onward. + +Nettle-seed needs no digging. The ruin of this countryside by railroads +was discussed, not only at the Weights and Scales, but in the +hay-field, where the muster of working hands gave opportunities for +talk such as were rarely had through the rural year. + +One morning, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother and +Mary Garth, in which she confessed to him her feeling for Fred Vincy, +it happened that her father had some business which took him to +Yoddrells farm in the direction of Frick: it was to measure and value +an outlying piece of land belonging to Lowick Manor, which Caleb +expected to dispose of advantageously for Dorothea (it must be +confessed that his bias was towards getting the best possible terms +from railroad companies). He put up his gig at Yoddrells, and in +walking with his assistant and measuring-chain to the scene of his +work, he encountered the party of the companys agents, who were +adjusting their spirit-level. After a little chat he left them, +observing that by-and-by they would reach him again where he was going +to measure. It was one of those gray mornings after light rains, which +become delicious about twelve oclock, when the clouds part a little, +and the scent of the earth is sweet along the lanes and by the +hedgerows. + +The scent would have been sweeter to Fred Vincy, who was coming along +the lanes on horseback, if his mind had not been worried by +unsuccessful efforts to imagine what he was to do, with his father on +one side expecting him straightway to enter the Church, with Mary on +the other threatening to forsake him if he did enter it, and with the +working-day world showing no eager need whatever of a young gentleman +without capital and generally unskilled. It was the harder to Freds +disposition because his father, satisfied that he was no longer +rebellious, was in good humor with him, and had sent him on this +pleasant ride to see after some greyhounds. Even when he had fixed on +what he should do, there would be the task of telling his father. But +it must be admitted that the fixing, which had to come first, was the +more difficult task:what secular avocation on earth was there for a +young man (whose friends could not get him an appointment) which was +at once gentlemanly, lucrative, and to be followed without special +knowledge? Riding along the lanes by Frick in this mood, and slackening +his pace while he reflected whether he should venture to go round by +Lowick Parsonage to call on Mary, he could see over the hedges from one +field to another. Suddenly a noise roused his attention, and on the far +side of a field on his left hand he could see six or seven men in +smock-frocks with hay-forks in their hands making an offensive approach +towards the four railway agents who were facing them, while Caleb Garth +and his assistant were hastening across the field to join the +threatened group. Fred, delayed a few moments by having to find the +gate, could not gallop up to the spot before the party in smock-frocks, +whose work of turning the hay had not been too pressing after +swallowing their mid-day beer, were driving the men in coats before +them with their hay-forks; while Caleb Garths assistant, a lad of +seventeen, who had snatched up the spirit-level at Calebs order, had +been knocked down and seemed to be lying helpless. The coated men had +the advantage as runners, and Fred covered their retreat by getting in +front of the smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to throw +their chase into confusion. What do you confounded fools mean? +shouted Fred, pursuing the divided group in a zigzag, and cutting right +and left with his whip. Ill swear to every one of you before the +magistrate. Youve knocked the lad down and killed him, for what I +know. Youll every one of you be hanged at the next assizes, if you +dont mind, said Fred, who afterwards laughed heartily as he +remembered his own phrases. + +The laborers had been driven through the gate-way into their hay-field, +and Fred had checked his horse, when Hiram Ford, observing himself at a +safe challenging distance, turned back and shouted a defiance which he +did not know to be Homeric. + +Yore a coward, yo are. Yo git off your horse, young measter, and Ill +have a round wi ye, I wull. Yo darednt come on wiout your hoss an +whip. Id soon knock the breath out on ye, I would. + +Wait a minute, and Ill come back presently, and have a round with you +all in turn, if you like, said Fred, who felt confidence in his power +of boxing with his dearly beloved brethren. But just now he wanted to +hasten back to Caleb and the prostrate youth. + +The lads ankle was strained, and he was in much pain from it, but he +was no further hurt, and Fred placed him on the horse that he might +ride to Yoddrells and be taken care of there. + +Let them put the horse in the stable, and tell the surveyors they can +come back for their traps, said Fred. The ground is clear now. + +No, no, said Caleb, heres a breakage. Theyll have to give up for +to-day, and it will be as well. Here, take the things before you on the +horse, Tom. Theyll see you coming, and theyll turn back. + +Im glad I happened to be here at the right moment, Mr. Garth, said +Fred, as Tom rode away. No knowing what might have happened if the +cavalry had not come up in time. + +Ay, ay, it was lucky, said Caleb, speaking rather absently, and +looking towards the spot where he had been at work at the moment of +interruption. Butdeuce take itthis is what comes of men being +foolsIm hindered of my days work. I cant get along without somebody +to help me with the measuring-chain. However! He was beginning to move +towards the spot with a look of vexation, as if he had forgotten Freds +presence, but suddenly he turned round and said quickly, What have you +got to do to-day, young fellow? + +Nothing, Mr. Garth. Ill help you with pleasurecan I? said Fred, +with a sense that he should be courting Mary when he was helping her +father. + +Well, you mustnt mind stooping and getting hot. + +I dont mind anything. Only I want to go first and have a round with +that hulky fellow who turned to challenge me. It would be a good lesson +for him. I shall not be five minutes. + +Nonsense! said Caleb, with his most peremptory intonation. I shall +go and speak to the men myself. Its all ignorance. Somebody has been +telling them lies. The poor fools dont know any better. + +I shall go with you, then, said Fred. + +No, no; stay where you are. I dont want your young blood. I can take +care of myself. + +Caleb was a powerful man and knew little of any fear except the fear of +hurting others and the fear of having to speechify. But he felt it his +duty at this moment to try and give a little harangue. There was a +striking mixture in himwhich came from his having always been a +hard-working man himselfof rigorous notions about workmen and +practical indulgence towards them. To do a good days work and to do it +well, he held to be part of their welfare, as it was the chief part of +his own happiness; but he had a strong sense of fellowship with them. +When he advanced towards the laborers they had not gone to work again, +but were standing in that form of rural grouping which consists in each +turning a shoulder towards the other, at a distance of two or three +yards. They looked rather sulkily at Caleb, who walked quickly with one +hand in his pocket and the other thrust between the buttons of his +waistcoat, and had his every-day mild air when he paused among them. + +Why, my lads, hows this? he began, taking as usual to brief phrases, +which seemed pregnant to himself, because he had many thoughts lying +under them, like the abundant roots of a plant that just manages to +peep above the water. How came you to make such a mistake as this? +Somebody has been telling you lies. You thought those men up there +wanted to do mischief. + +Aw! was the answer, dropped at intervals by each according to his +degree of unreadiness. + +Nonsense! No such thing! Theyre looking out to see which way the +railroad is to take. Now, my lads, you cant hinder the railroad: it +will be made whether you like it or not. And if you go fighting against +it, youll get yourselves into trouble. The law gives those men leave +to come here on the land. The owner has nothing to say against it, and +if you meddle with them youll have to do with the constable and +Justice Blakesley, and with the handcuffs and Middlemarch jail. And you +might be in for it now, if anybody informed against you. + +Caleb paused here, and perhaps the greatest orator could not have +chosen either his pause or his images better for the occasion. + +But come, you didnt mean any harm. Somebody told you the railroad was +a bad thing. That was a lie. It may do a bit of harm here and there, to +this and to that; and so does the sun in heaven. But the railways a +good thing. + +Aw! good for the big folks to make money out on, said old Timothy +Cooper, who had stayed behind turning his hay while the others had been +gone on their spree;In seen lots o things turn up sin I war a +young unthe war an the peace, and the canells, an the oald King +George, an the Regen, an the new King George, an the new un as has +got a new ne-amean its been all aloike to the poor mon. Whats the +canells been t him? Theyn brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor +wage to lay by, if he didnt save it wi clemmin his own inside. Times +ha got wusser for him sin I war a young un. An so itll be wi the +railroads. Theyll ony leave the poor mon furder behind. But them are +fools as meddle, and so I told the chaps here. This is the big folkss +world, this is. But yore for the big folks, Muster Garth, yo are. + +Timothy was a wiry old laborer, of a type lingering in those timeswho +had his savings in a stocking-foot, lived in a lone cottage, and was +not to be wrought on by any oratory, having as little of the feudal +spirit, and believing as little, as if he had not been totally +unacquainted with the Age of Reason and the Rights of Man. Caleb was in +a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and +unassisted by miracle to reason with rustics who are in possession of +an undeniable truth which they know through a hard process of feeling, +and can let it fall like a giants club on your neatly carved argument +for a social benefit which they do not feel. Caleb had no cant at +command, even if he could have chosen to use it; and he had been +accustomed to meet all such difficulties in no other way than by doing +his business faithfully. He answered + +If you dont think well of me, Tim, never mind; thats neither here +nor there now. Things may be bad for the poor manbad they are; but I +want the lads here not to do what will make things worse for +themselves. The cattle may have a heavy load, but it wont help em to +throw it over into the roadside pit, when its partly their own +fodder. + +We war ony for a bit o foon, said Hiram, who was beginning to see +consequences. That war all we war arter. + +Well, promise me not to meddle again, and Ill see that nobody informs +against you. + +In neer meddled, an In no call to promise, said Timothy. + +No, but the rest. Come, Im as hard at work as any of you to-day, and +I cant spare much time. Say youll be quiet without the constable. + +Aw, we wooant meddlethey may do as they loike for ooswere the forms +in which Caleb got his pledges; and then he hastened back to Fred, who +had followed him, and watched him in the gateway. + +They went to work, and Fred helped vigorously. His spirits had risen, +and he heartily enjoyed a good slip in the moist earth under the +hedgerow, which soiled his perfect summer trousers. Was it his +successful onset which had elated him, or the satisfaction of helping +Marys father? Something more. The accidents of the morning had helped +his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himself which had +several attractions. I am not sure that certain fibres in Mr. Garths +mind had not resumed their old vibration towards the very end which now +revealed itself to Fred. For the effective accident is but the touch of +fire where there is oil and tow; and it always appeared to Fred that +the railway brought the needed touch. But they went on in silence +except when their business demanded speech. At last, when they had +finished and were walking away, Mr. Garth said + +A young fellow neednt be a B. A. to do this sort of work, eh, Fred? + +I wish I had taken to it before I had thought of being a B. A., said +Fred. He paused a moment, and then added, more hesitatingly, Do you +think I am too old to learn your business, Mr. Garth? + +My business is of many sorts, my boy, said Mr. Garth, smiling. A +good deal of what I know can only come from experience: you cant learn +it off as you learn things out of a book. But you are young enough to +lay a foundation yet. Caleb pronounced the last sentence emphatically, +but paused in some uncertainty. He had been under the impression lately +that Fred had made up his mind to enter the Church. + +You do think I could do some good at it, if I were to try? said Fred, +more eagerly. + +That depends, said Caleb, turning his head on one side and lowering +his voice, with the air of a man who felt himself to be saying +something deeply religious. You must be sure of two things: you must +love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting +your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your +work, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something +else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it +well, and not be always saying, Theres this and theres thatif I had +this or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a man +isI wouldnt give twopence for himhere Calebs mouth looked bitter, +and he snapped his fingerswhether he was the prime minister or the +rick-thatcher, if he didnt do well what he undertook to do. + +I can never feel that I should do that in being a clergyman, said +Fred, meaning to take a step in argument. + +Then let it alone, my boy, said Caleb, abruptly, else youll never +be easy. Or, if you _are_ easy, youll be a poor stick. + +That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it, said Fred, coloring. +I think you must know what I feel for Mary, Mr. Garth: I hope it does +not displease you that I have always loved her better than any one +else, and that I shall never love any one as I love her. + +The expression of Calebs face was visibly softening while Fred spoke. +But he swung his head with a solemn slowness, and said + +That makes things more serious, Fred, if you want to take Marys +happiness into your keeping. + +I know that, Mr. Garth, said Fred, eagerly, and I would do anything +for _her_. She says she will never have me if I go into the Church; and +I shall be the most miserable devil in the world if I lose all hope of +Mary. Really, if I could get some other profession, businessanything +that I am at all fit for, I would work hard, I would deserve your good +opinion. I should like to have to do with outdoor things. I know a good +deal about land and cattle already. I used to believe, you knowthough +you will think me rather foolish for itthat I should have land of my +own. I am sure knowledge of that sort would come easily to me, +especially if I could be under you in any way. + +Softly, my boy, said Caleb, having the image of Susan before his +eyes. What have you said to your father about all this? + +Nothing, yet; but I must tell him. I am only waiting to know what I +can do instead of entering the Church. I am very sorry to disappoint +him, but a man ought to be allowed to judge for himself when he is +four-and-twenty. How could I know when I was fifteen, what it would be +right for me to do now? My education was a mistake. + +But hearken to this, Fred, said Caleb. Are you sure Mary is fond of +you, or would ever have you? + +I asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbidden meI +didnt know what else to do, said Fred, apologetically. And he says +that I have every reason to hope, if I can put myself in an honorable +positionI mean, out of the Church. I dare say you think it +unwarrantable in me, Mr. Garth, to be troubling you and obtruding my +own wishes about Mary, before I have done anything at all for myself. +Of course I have not the least claimindeed, I have already a debt to +you which will never be discharged, even when I have been able to pay +it in the shape of money. + +Yes, my boy, you have a claim, said Caleb, with much feeling in his +voice. The young ones have always a claim on the old to help them +forward. I was young myself once and had to do without much help; but +help would have been welcome to me, if it had been only for the +fellow-feelings sake. But I must consider. Come to me to-morrow at the +office, at nine oclock. At the office, mind. + +Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan, but it +must be confessed that before he reached home he had taken his +resolution. With regard to a large number of matters about which other +men are decided or obstinate, he was the most easily manageable man in +the world. He never knew what meat he would choose, and if Susan had +said that they ought to live in a four-roomed cottage, in order to +save, he would have said, Let us go, without inquiring into details. +But where Calebs feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he was a +ruler; and in spite of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every +one about him knew that on the exceptional occasions when he chose, he +was absolute. He never, indeed, chose to be absolute except on some one +elses behalf. On ninety-nine points Mrs. Garth decided, but on the +hundredth she was often aware that she would have to perform the +singularly difficult task of carrying out her own principle, and to +make herself subordinate. + +It is come round as I thought, Susan, said Caleb, when they were +seated alone in the evening. He had already narrated the adventure +which had brought about Freds sharing in his work, but had kept back +the further result. The children _are_ fond of each otherI mean, Fred +and Mary. + +Mrs. Garth laid her work on her knee, and fixed her penetrating eyes +anxiously on her husband. + +After wed done our work, Fred poured it all out to me. He cant bear +to be a clergyman, and Mary says she wont have him if he is one; and +the lad would like to be under me and give his mind to business. And +Ive determined to take him and make a man of him. + +Caleb! said Mrs. Garth, in a deep contralto, expressive of resigned +astonishment. + +Its a fine thing to do, said Mr. Garth, settling himself firmly +against the back of his chair, and grasping the elbows. I shall have +trouble with him, but I think I shall carry it through. The lad loves +Mary, and a true love for a good woman is a great thing, Susan. It +shapes many a rough fellow. + +Has Mary spoken to you on the subject? said Mrs Garth, secretly a +little hurt that she had to be informed on it herself. + +Not a word. I asked her about Fred once; I gave her a bit of a +warning. But she assured me she would never marry an idle +self-indulgent mannothing since. But it seems Fred set on Mr. +Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbidden him to speak +himself, and Mr. Farebrother has found out that she is fond of Fred, +but says he must not be a clergyman. Freds heart is fixed on Mary, +that I can see: it gives me a good opinion of the ladand we always +liked him, Susan. + +It is a pity for Mary, I think, said Mrs. Garth. + +Whya pity? + +Because, Caleb, she might have had a man who is worth twenty Fred +Vincys. + +Ah? said Caleb, with surprise. + +I firmly believe that Mr. Farebrother is attached to her, and meant to +make her an offer; but of course, now that Fred has used him as an +envoy, there is an end to that better prospect. There was a severe +precision in Mrs. Garths utterance. She was vexed and disappointed, +but she was bent on abstaining from useless words. + +Caleb was silent a few moments under a conflict of feelings. He looked +at the floor and moved his head and hands in accompaniment to some +inward argumentation. At last he said + +That would have made me very proud and happy, Susan, and I should have +been glad for your sake. Ive always felt that your belongings have +never been on a level with you. But you took me, though I was a plain +man. + +I took the best and cleverest man I had ever known, said Mrs. Garth, +convinced that _she_ would never have loved any one who came short of +that mark. + +Well, perhaps others thought you might have done better. But it would +have been worse for me. And that is what touches me close about Fred. +The lad is good at bottom, and clever enough to do, if hes put in the +right way; and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything, and she +has given him a sort of promise according to what he turns out. I say, +that young mans soul is in my hand; and Ill do the best I can for +him, so help me God! Its my duty, Susan. + +Mrs. Garth was not given to tears, but there was a large one rolling +down her face before her husband had finished. It came from the +pressure of various feelings, in which there was much affection and +some vexation. She wiped it away quickly, saying + +Few men besides you would think it a duty to add to their anxieties in +that way, Caleb. + +That signifies nothingwhat other men would think. Ive got a clear +feeling inside me, and that I shall follow; and I hope your heart will +go with me, Susan, in making everything as light as can be to Mary, +poor child. + +Caleb, leaning back in his chair, looked with anxious appeal towards +his wife. She rose and kissed him, saying, God bless you, Caleb! Our +children have a good father. + +But she went out and had a hearty cry to make up for the suppression of +her words. She felt sure that her husbands conduct would be +misunderstood, and about Fred she was rational and unhopeful. Which +would turn out to have the more foresight in ither rationality or +Calebs ardent generosity? + +When Fred went to the office the next morning, there was a test to be +gone through which he was not prepared for. + +Now Fred, said Caleb, you will have some desk-work. I have always +done a good deal of writing myself, but I cant do without help, and as +I want you to understand the accounts and get the values into your +head, I mean to do without another clerk. So you must buckle to. How +are you at writing and arithmetic? + +Fred felt an awkward movement of the heart; he had not thought of +desk-work; but he was in a resolute mood, and not going to shrink. Im +not afraid of arithmetic, Mr. Garth: it always came easily to me. I +think you know my writing. + +Let us see, said Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and +handing it, well dipped, to Fred with a sheet of ruled paper. Copy me +a line or two of that valuation, with the figures at the end. + +At that time the opinion existed that it was beneath a gentleman to +write legibly, or with a hand in the least suitable to a clerk. Fred +wrote the lines demanded in a hand as gentlemanly as that of any +viscount or bishop of the day: the vowels were all alike and the +consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, the strokes had +a blotted solidity and the letters disdained to keep the linein short, +it was a manuscript of that venerable kind easy to interpret when you +know beforehand what the writer means. + +As Caleb looked on, his visage showed a growing depression, but when +Fred handed him the paper he gave something like a snarl, and rapped +the paper passionately with the back of his hand. Bad work like this +dispelled all Calebs mildness. + +The deuce! he exclaimed, snarlingly. To think that this is a country +where a mans education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and it turns +you out this! Then in a more pathetic tone, pushing up his spectacles +and looking at the unfortunate scribe, The Lord have mercy on us, +Fred, I cant put up with this! + +What can I do, Mr. Garth? said Fred, whose spirits had sunk very low, +not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision of +himself as liable to be ranked with office clerks. + +Do? Why, you must learn to form your letters and keep the line. Whats +the use of writing at all if nobody can understand it? asked Caleb, +energetically, quite preoccupied with the bad quality of the work. Is +there so little business in the world that you must be sending puzzles +over the country? But thats the way people are brought up. I should +lose no end of time with the letters some people send me, if Susan did +not make them out for me. Its disgusting. Here Caleb tossed the paper +from him. + +Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might have wondered +what was the drama between the indignant man of business, and the +fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather +patchy as he bit his lip with mortification. Fred was struggling with +many thoughts. Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at the +beginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had been +at a high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate. He had not thought +of desk-workin fact, like the majority of young gentlemen, he wanted +an occupation which should be free from disagreeables. I cannot tell +what might have been the consequences if he had not distinctly promised +himself that he would go to Lowick to see Mary and tell her that he was +engaged to work under her father. He did not like to disappoint himself +there. + +I am very sorry, were all the words that he could muster. But Mr. +Garth was already relenting. + +We must make the best of it, Fred, he began, with a return to his +usual quiet tone. Every man can learn to write. I taught myself. Go at +it with a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isnt enough. Well +be patient, my boy. Callum shall go on with the books for a bit, while +you are learning. But now I must be off, said Caleb, rising. You must +let your father know our agreement. Youll save me Callums salary, you +know, when you can write; and I can afford to give you eighty pounds +for the first year, and more after. + +When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relative +effect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into his +memory. He went straight from Mr. Garths office to the warehouse, +rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behave +to his father was to make the painful communication as gravely and +formally as possible. Moreover, the decision would be more certainly +understood to be final, if the interview took place in his fathers +gravest hours, which were always those spent in his private room at the +warehouse. + +Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what he had +done and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret that he +should be the cause of disappointment to his father, and taking the +blame on his own deficiencies. The regret was genuine, and inspired +Fred with strong, simple words. + +Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an +exclamation, a silence which in his impatient temperament was a sign of +unusual emotion. He had not been in good spirits about trade that +morning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense as he +listened. When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly a minute, +during which Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned the key +emphatically. Then he looked at his son steadily, and said + +So youve made up your mind at last, sir? + +Yes, father. + +Very well; stick to it. Ive no more to say. Youve thrown away your +education, and gone down a step in life, when I had given you the means +of rising, thats all. + +I am very sorry that we differ, father. I think I can be quite as much +of a gentleman at the work I have undertaken, as if I had been a +curate. But I am grateful to you for wishing to do the best for me. + +Very well; I have no more to say. I wash my hands of you. I only hope, +when you have a son of your own he will make a better return for the +pains you spend on him. + +This was very cutting to Fred. His father was using that unfair +advantage possessed by us all when we are in a pathetic situation and +see our own past as if it were simply part of the pathos. In reality, +Mr. Vincys wishes about his son had had a great deal of pride, +inconsiderateness, and egoistic folly in them. But still the +disappointed father held a strong lever; and Fred felt as if he were +being banished with a malediction. + +I hope you will not object to my remaining at home, sir? he said, +after rising to go; I shall have a sufficient salary to pay for my +board, as of course I should wish to do. + +Board be hanged! said Mr. Vincy, recovering himself in his disgust at +the notion that Freds keep would be missed at his table. Of course +your mother will want you to stay. But I shall keep no horse for you, +you understand; and you will pay your own tailor. You will do with a +suit or two less, I fancy, when you have to pay for em. + +Fred lingered; there was still something to be said. At last it came. + +I hope you will shake hands with me, father, and forgive me the +vexation I have caused you. + +Mr. Vincy from his chair threw a quick glance upward at his son, who +had advanced near to him, and then gave his hand, saying hurriedly, +Yes, yes, let us say no more. + +Fred went through much more narrative and explanation with his mother, +but she was inconsolable, having before her eyes what perhaps her +husband had never thought of, the certainty that Fred would marry Mary +Garth, that her life would henceforth be spoiled by a perpetual +infusion of Garths and their ways, and that her darling boy, with his +beautiful face and stylish air beyond anybody elses son in +Middlemarch, would be sure to get like that family in plainness of +appearance and carelessness about his clothes. To her it seemed that +there was a Garth conspiracy to get possession of the desirable Fred, +but she dared not enlarge on this opinion, because a slight hint of it +had made him fly out at her as he had never done before. Her temper +was too sweet for her to show any anger, but she felt that her +happiness had received a bruise, and for several days merely to look at +Fred made her cry a little as if he were the subject of some baleful +prophecy. Perhaps she was the slower to recover her usual cheerfulness +because Fred had warned her that she must not reopen the sore question +with his father, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him. If her +husband had been vehement against Fred, she would have been urged into +defence of her darling. It was the end of the fourth day when Mr. Vincy +said to her + +Come, Lucy, my dear, dont be so down-hearted. You always have spoiled +the boy, and you must go on spoiling him. + +Nothing ever did cut me so before, Vincy, said the wife, her fair +throat and chin beginning to tremble again, only his illness. + +Pooh, pooh, never mind! We must expect to have trouble with our +children. Dont make it worse by letting me see you out of spirits. + +Well, I wont, said Mrs. Vincy, roused by this appeal and adjusting +herself with a little shake as of a bird which lays down its ruffled +plumage. + +It wont do to begin making a fuss about one, said Mr. Vincy, wishing +to combine a little grumbling with domestic cheerfulness. Theres +Rosamond as well as Fred. + +Yes, poor thing. Im sure I felt for her being disappointed of her +baby; but she got over it nicely. + +Baby, pooh! I can see Lydgate is making a mess of his practice, and +getting into debt too, by what I hear. I shall have Rosamond coming to +me with a pretty tale one of these days. But theyll get no money from +me, I know. Let _his_ family help him. I never did like that marriage. +But its no use talking. Ring the bell for lemons, and dont look dull +any more, Lucy. Ill drive you and Louisa to Riverston to-morrow. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +They numbered scarce eight summers when a name + Rose on their souls and stirred such motions there +As thrill the buds and shape their hidden frame + At penetration of the quickening air: +His name who told of loyal Evan Dhu, + Of quaint Bradwardine, and Vich Ian Vor, +Making the little world their childhood knew + Large with a land of mountain lake and scaur, +And larger yet with wonder, love, belief + Toward Walter Scott who living far away +Sent them this wealth of joy and noble grief. + The book and they must part, but day by day, + In lines that thwart like portly spiders ran + They wrote the tale, from Tully Veolan. + + +The evening that Fred Vincy walked to Lowick parsonage (he had begun to +see that this was a world in which even a spirited young man must +sometimes walk for want of a horse to carry him) he set out at five +oclock and called on Mrs. Garth by the way, wishing to assure himself +that she accepted their new relations willingly. + +He found the family group, dogs and cats included, under the great +apple-tree in the orchard. It was a festival with Mrs. Garth, for her +eldest son, Christy, her peculiar joy and pride, had come home for a +short holidayChristy, who held it the most desirable thing in the +world to be a tutor, to study all literatures and be a regenerate +Porson, and who was an incorporate criticism on poor Fred, a sort of +object-lesson given to him by the educational mother. Christy himself, +a square-browed, broad-shouldered masculine edition of his mother not +much higher than Freds shoulderwhich made it the harder that he +should be held superiorwas always as simple as possible, and thought +no more of Freds disinclination to scholarship than of a giraffes, +wishing that he himself were more of the same height. He was lying on +the ground now by his mothers chair, with his straw hat laid flat over +his eyes, while Jim on the other side was reading aloud from that +beloved writer who has made a chief part in the happiness of many young +lives. The volume was Ivanhoe, and Jim was in the great archery scene +at the tournament, but suffered much interruption from Ben, who had +fetched his own old bow and arrows, and was making himself dreadfully +disagreeable, Letty thought, by begging all present to observe his +random shots, which no one wished to do except Brownie, the +active-minded but probably shallow mongrel, while the grizzled +Newfoundland lying in the sun looked on with the dull-eyed neutrality +of extreme old age. Letty herself, showing as to her mouth and pinafore +some slight signs that she had been assisting at the gathering of the +cherries which stood in a coral-heap on the tea-table, was now seated +on the grass, listening open-eyed to the reading. + +But the centre of interest was changed for all by the arrival of Fred +Vincy. When, seating himself on a garden-stool, he said that he was on +his way to Lowick Parsonage, Ben, who had thrown down his bow, and +snatched up a reluctant half-grown kitten instead, strode across Freds +outstretched leg, and said Take me! + +Oh, and me too, said Letty. + +You cant keep up with Fred and me, said Ben. + +Yes, I can. Mother, please say that I am to go, urged Letty, whose +life was much checkered by resistance to her depreciation as a girl. + +I shall stay with Christy, observed Jim; as much as to say that he +had the advantage of those simpletons; whereupon Letty put her hand up +to her head and looked with jealous indecision from the one to the +other. + +Let us all go and see Mary, said Christy, opening his arms. + +No, my dear child, we must not go in a swarm to the parsonage. And +that old Glasgow suit of yours would never do. Besides, your father +will come home. We must let Fred go alone. He can tell Mary that you +are here, and she will come back to-morrow. + +Christy glanced at his own threadbare knees, and then at Freds +beautiful white trousers. Certainly Freds tailoring suggested the +advantages of an English university, and he had a graceful way even of +looking warm and of pushing his hair back with his handkerchief. + +Children, run away, said Mrs. Garth; it is too warm to hang about +your friends. Take your brother and show him the rabbits. + +The eldest understood, and led off the children immediately. Fred felt +that Mrs. Garth wished to give him an opportunity of saying anything he +had to say, but he could only begin by observing + +How glad you must be to have Christy here! + +Yes; he has come sooner than I expected. He got down from the coach at +nine oclock, just after his father went out. I am longing for Caleb to +come and hear what wonderful progress Christy is making. He has paid +his expenses for the last year by giving lessons, carrying on hard +study at the same time. He hopes soon to get a private tutorship and go +abroad. + +He is a great fellow, said Fred, to whom these cheerful truths had a +medicinal taste, and no trouble to anybody. After a slight pause, he +added, But I fear you will think that I am going to be a great deal of +trouble to Mr. Garth. + +Caleb likes taking trouble: he is one of those men who always do more +than any one would have thought of asking them to do, answered Mrs. +Garth. She was knitting, and could either look at Fred or not, as she +chosealways an advantage when one is bent on loading speech with +salutary meaning; and though Mrs. Garth intended to be duly reserved, +she did wish to say something that Fred might be the better for. + +I know you think me very undeserving, Mrs. Garth, and with good +reason, said Fred, his spirit rising a little at the perception of +something like a disposition to lecture him. I happen to have behaved +just the worst to the people I cant help wishing for the most from. +But while two men like Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother have not given me +up, I dont see why I should give myself up. Fred thought it might be +well to suggest these masculine examples to Mrs. Garth. + +Assuredly, said she, with gathering emphasis. A young man for whom +two such elders had devoted themselves would indeed be culpable if he +threw himself away and made their sacrifices vain. + +Fred wondered a little at this strong language, but only said, I hope +it will not be so with me, Mrs. Garth, since I have some encouragement +to believe that I may win Mary. Mr. Garth has told you about that? You +were not surprised, I dare say? Fred ended, innocently referring only +to his own love as probably evident enough. + +Not surprised that Mary has given you encouragement? returned Mrs. +Garth, who thought it would be well for Fred to be more alive to the +fact that Marys friends could not possibly have wished this +beforehand, whatever the Vincys might suppose. Yes, I confess I was +surprised. + +She never did give me anynot the least in the world, when I talked to +her myself, said Fred, eager to vindicate Mary. But when I asked Mr. +Farebrother to speak for me, she allowed him to tell me there was a +hope. + +The power of admonition which had begun to stir in Mrs. Garth had not +yet discharged itself. It was a little too provoking even for _her_ +self-control that this blooming youngster should flourish on the +disappointments of sadder and wiser peoplemaking a meal of a +nightingale and never knowing itand that all the while his family +should suppose that hers was in eager need of this sprig; and her +vexation had fermented the more actively because of its total +repression towards her husband. Exemplary wives will sometimes find +scapegoats in this way. She now said with energetic decision, You made +a great mistake, Fred, in asking Mr. Farebrother to speak for you. + +Did I? said Fred, reddening instantaneously. He was alarmed, but at a +loss to know what Mrs. Garth meant, and added, in an apologetic tone, +Mr. Farebrother has always been such a friend of ours; and Mary, I +knew, would listen to him gravely; and he took it on himself quite +readily. + +Yes, young people are usually blind to everything but their own +wishes, and seldom imagine how much those wishes cost others, said +Mrs. Garth. She did not mean to go beyond this salutary general +doctrine, and threw her indignation into a needless unwinding of her +worsted, knitting her brow at it with a grand air. + +I cannot conceive how it could be any pain to Mr. Farebrother, said +Fred, who nevertheless felt that surprising conceptions were beginning +to form themselves. + +Precisely; you cannot conceive, said Mrs. Garth, cutting her words as +neatly as possible. + +For a moment Fred looked at the horizon with a dismayed anxiety, and +then turning with a quick movement said almost sharply + +Do you mean to say, Mrs. Garth, that Mr. Farebrother is in love with +Mary? + +And if it were so, Fred, I think you are the last person who ought to +be surprised, returned Mrs. Garth, laying her knitting down beside her +and folding her arms. It was an unwonted sign of emotion in her that +she should put her work out of her hands. In fact her feelings were +divided between the satisfaction of giving Fred his discipline and the +sense of having gone a little too far. Fred took his hat and stick and +rose quickly. + +Then you think I am standing in his way, and in Marys too? he said, +in a tone which seemed to demand an answer. + +Mrs. Garth could not speak immediately. She had brought herself into +the unpleasant position of being called on to say what she really felt, +yet what she knew there were strong reasons for concealing. And to her +the consciousness of having exceeded in words was peculiarly +mortifying. Besides, Fred had given out unexpected electricity, and he +now added, Mr. Garth seemed pleased that Mary should be attached to +me. He could not have known anything of this. + +Mrs. Garth felt a severe twinge at this mention of her husband, the +fear that Caleb might think her in the wrong not being easily +endurable. She answered, wanting to check unintended consequences + +I spoke from inference only. I am not aware that Mary knows anything +of the matter. + +But she hesitated to beg that he would keep entire silence on a subject +which she had herself unnecessarily mentioned, not being used to stoop +in that way; and while she was hesitating there was already a rush of +unintended consequences under the apple-tree where the tea-things +stood. Ben, bouncing across the grass with Brownie at his heels, and +seeing the kitten dragging the knitting by a lengthening line of wool, +shouted and clapped his hands; Brownie barked, the kitten, desperate, +jumped on the tea-table and upset the milk, then jumped down again and +swept half the cherries with it; and Ben, snatching up the half-knitted +sock-top, fitted it over the kittens head as a new source of madness, +while Letty arriving cried out to her mother against this crueltyit +was a history as full of sensation as This is the house that Jack +built. Mrs. Garth was obliged to interfere, the other young ones came +up and the _tte--tte_ with Fred was ended. He got away as soon as he +could, and Mrs. Garth could only imply some retractation of her +severity by saying God bless you when she shook hands with him. + +She was unpleasantly conscious that she had been on the verge of +speaking as one of the foolish women speakethtelling first and +entreating silence after. But she had not entreated silence, and to +prevent Calebs blame she determined to blame herself and confess all +to him that very night. It was curious what an awful tribunal the mild +Calebs was to her, whenever he set it up. But she meant to point out +to him that the revelation might do Fred Vincy a great deal of good. + +No doubt it was having a strong effect on him as he walked to Lowick. +Freds light hopeful nature had perhaps never had so much of a bruise +as from this suggestion that if he had been out of the way Mary might +have made a thoroughly good match. Also he was piqued that he had been +what he called such a stupid lout as to ask that intervention from Mr. +Farebrother. But it was not in a lovers natureit was not in Freds, +that the new anxiety raised about Marys feeling should not surmount +every other. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Farebrothers generosity, +notwithstanding what Mary had said to him, Fred could not help feeling +that he had a rival: it was a new consciousness, and he objected to it +extremely, not being in the least ready to give up Mary for her good, +being ready rather to fight for her with any man whatsoever. But the +fighting with Mr. Farebrother must be of a metaphorical kind, which was +much more difficult to Fred than the muscular. Certainly this +experience was a discipline for Fred hardly less sharp than his +disappointment about his uncles will. The iron had not entered into +his soul, but he had begun to imagine what the sharp edge would be. It +did not once occur to Fred that Mrs. Garth might be mistaken about Mr. +Farebrother, but he suspected that she might be wrong about Mary. Mary +had been staying at the parsonage lately, and her mother might know +very little of what had been passing in her mind. + +He did not feel easier when he found her looking cheerful with the +three ladies in the drawing-room. They were in animated discussion on +some subject which was dropped when he entered, and Mary was copying +the labels from a heap of shallow cabinet drawers, in a minute +handwriting which she was skilled in. Mr. Farebrother was somewhere in +the village, and the three ladies knew nothing of Freds peculiar +relation to Mary: it was impossible for either of them to propose that +they should walk round the garden, and Fred predicted to himself that +he should have to go away without saying a word to her in private. He +told her first of Christys arrival and then of his own engagement with +her father; and he was comforted by seeing that this latter news +touched her keenly. She said hurriedly, I am so glad, and then bent +over her writing to hinder any one from noticing her face. But here was +a subject which Mrs. Farebrother could not let pass. + +You dont mean, my dear Miss Garth, that you are glad to hear of a +young man giving up the Church for which he was educated: you only mean +that things being so, you are glad that he should be under an excellent +man like your father. + +No, really, Mrs. Farebrother, I am glad of both, I fear, said Mary, +cleverly getting rid of one rebellious tear. I have a dreadfully +secular mind. I never liked any clergyman except the Vicar of Wakefield +and Mr. Farebrother. + +Now why, my dear? said Mrs. Farebrother, pausing on her large wooden +knitting-needles and looking at Mary. You have always a good reason +for your opinions, but this astonishes me. Of course I put out of the +question those who preach new doctrine. But why should you dislike +clergymen? + +Oh dear, said Mary, her face breaking into merriment as she seemed to +consider a moment, I dont like their neckcloths. + +Why, you dont like Camdens, then, said Miss Winifred, in some +anxiety. + +Yes, I do, said Mary. I dont like the other clergymens neckcloths, +because it is they who wear them. + +How very puzzling! said Miss Noble, feeling that her own intellect +was probably deficient. + +My dear, you are joking. You would have better reasons than these for +slighting so respectable a class of men, said Mrs. Farebrother, +majestically. + +Miss Garth has such severe notions of what people should be that it is +difficult to satisfy her, said Fred. + +Well, I am glad at least that she makes an exception in favor of my +son, said the old lady. + +Mary was wondering at Freds piqued tone, when Mr. Farebrother came in +and had to hear the news about the engagement under Mr. Garth. At the +end he said with quiet satisfaction, _That_ is right; and then bent +to look at Marys labels and praise her handwriting. Fred felt horribly +jealouswas glad, of course, that Mr. Farebrother was so estimable, but +wished that he had been ugly and fat as men at forty sometimes are. It +was clear what the end would be, since Mary openly placed Farebrother +above everybody, and these women were all evidently encouraging the +affair. He was feeling sure that he should have no chance of speaking +to Mary, when Mr. Farebrother said + +Fred, help me to carry these drawers back into my studyyou have never +seen my fine new study. Pray come too, Miss Garth. I want you to see a +stupendous spider I found this morning. + +Mary at once saw the Vicars intention. He had never since the +memorable evening deviated from his old pastoral kindness towards her, +and her momentary wonder and doubt had quite gone to sleep. Mary was +accustomed to think rather rigorously of what was probable, and if a +belief flattered her vanity she felt warned to dismiss it as +ridiculous, having early had much exercise in such dismissals. It was +as she had foreseen: when Fred had been asked to admire the fittings of +the study, and she had been asked to admire the spider, Mr. Farebrother +said + +Wait here a minute or two. I am going to look out an engraving which +Fred is tall enough to hang for me. I shall be back in a few minutes. +And then he went out. Nevertheless, the first word Fred said to Mary +was + +It is of no use, whatever I do, Mary. You are sure to marry +Farebrother at last. There was some rage in his tone. + +What do you mean, Fred? Mary exclaimed indignantly, blushing deeply, +and surprised out of all her readiness in reply. + +It is impossible that you should not see it all clearly enoughyou who +see everything. + +I only see that you are behaving very ill, Fred, in speaking so of Mr. +Farebrother after he has pleaded your cause in every way. How can you +have taken up such an idea? + +Fred was rather deep, in spite of his irritation. If Mary had really +been unsuspicious, there was no good in telling her what Mrs. Garth had +said. + +It follows as a matter of course, he replied. When you are +continually seeing a man who beats me in everything, and whom you set +up above everybody, I can have no fair chance. + +You are very ungrateful, Fred, said Mary. I wish I had never told +Mr. Farebrother that I cared for you in the least. + +No, I am not ungrateful; I should be the happiest fellow in the world +if it were not for this. I told your father everything, and he was very +kind; he treated me as if I were his son. I could go at the work with a +will, writing and everything, if it were not for this. + +For this? for what? said Mary, imagining now that something specific +must have been said or done. + +This dreadful certainty that I shall be bowled out by Farebrother. +Mary was appeased by her inclination to laugh. + +Fred, she said, peeping round to catch his eyes, which were sulkily +turned away from her, you are too delightfully ridiculous. If you were +not such a charming simpleton, what a temptation this would be to play +the wicked coquette, and let you suppose that somebody besides you has +made love to me. + +Do you really like me best, Mary? said Fred, turning eyes full of +affection on her, and trying to take her hand. + +I dont like you at all at this moment, said Mary, retreating, and +putting her hands behind her. I only said that no mortal ever made +love to me besides you. And that is no argument that a very wise man +ever will, she ended, merrily. + +I wish you would tell me that you could not possibly ever think of +him, said Fred. + +Never dare to mention this any more to me, Fred, said Mary, getting +serious again. I dont know whether it is more stupid or ungenerous in +you not to see that Mr. Farebrother has left us together on purpose +that we might speak freely. I am disappointed that you should be so +blind to his delicate feeling. + +There was no time to say any more before Mr. Farebrother came back with +the engraving; and Fred had to return to the drawing-room still with a +jealous dread in his heart, but yet with comforting arguments from +Marys words and manner. The result of the conversation was on the +whole more painful to Mary: inevitably her attention had taken a new +attitude, and she saw the possibility of new interpretations. She was +in a position in which she seemed to herself to be slighting Mr. +Farebrother, and this, in relation to a man who is much honored, is +always dangerous to the firmness of a grateful woman. To have a reason +for going home the next day was a relief, for Mary earnestly desired to +be always clear that she loved Fred best. When a tender affection has +been storing itself in us through many of our years, the idea that we +could accept any exchange for it seems to be a cheapening of our lives. +And we can set a watch over our affections and our constancy as we can +over other treasures. + +Fred has lost all his other expectations; he must keep this, Mary +said to herself, with a smile curling her lips. It was impossible to +help fleeting visions of another kindnew dignities and an acknowledged +value of which she had often felt the absence. But these things with +Fred outside them, Fred forsaken and looking sad for the want of her, +could never tempt her deliberate thought. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +For there can live no hatred in thine eye, +Therefore in that I cannot know thy change: +In manys looks the false hearts history +Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange: +But Heaven in thy creation did decree +That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell: +Whateer thy thoughts or thy hearts workings be +Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. +SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. + + +At the time when Mr. Vincy uttered that presentiment about Rosamond, +she herself had never had the idea that she should be driven to make +the sort of appeal which he foresaw. She had not yet had any anxiety +about ways and means, although her domestic life had been expensive as +well as eventful. Her baby had been born prematurely, and all the +embroidered robes and caps had to be laid by in darkness. This +misfortune was attributed entirely to her having persisted in going out +on horseback one day when her husband had desired her not to do so; but +it must not be supposed that she had shown temper on the occasion, or +rudely told him that she would do as she liked. + +What led her particularly to desire horse-exercise was a visit from +Captain Lydgate, the baronets third son, who, I am sorry to say, was +detested by our Tertius of that name as a vapid fop parting his hair +from brow to nape in a despicable fashion (not followed by Tertius +himself), and showing an ignorant security that he knew the proper +thing to say on every topic. Lydgate inwardly cursed his own folly that +he had drawn down this visit by consenting to go to his uncles on the +wedding-tour, and he made himself rather disagreeable to Rosamond by +saying so in private. For to Rosamond this visit was a source of +unprecedented but gracefully concealed exultation. She was so intensely +conscious of having a cousin who was a baronets son staying in the +house, that she imagined the knowledge of what was implied by his +presence to be diffused through all other minds; and when she +introduced Captain Lydgate to her guests, she had a placid sense that +his rank penetrated them as if it had been an odor. The satisfaction +was enough for the time to melt away some disappointment in the +conditions of marriage with a medical man even of good birth: it seemed +now that her marriage was visibly as well as ideally floating her above +the Middlemarch level, and the future looked bright with letters and +visits to and from Quallingham, and vague advancement in consequence +for Tertius. Especially as, probably at the Captains suggestion, his +married sister, Mrs. Mengan, had come with her maid, and stayed two +nights on her way from town. Hence it was clearly worth while for +Rosamond to take pains with her music and the careful selection of her +lace. + +As to Captain Lydgate himself, his low brow, his aquiline nose bent on +one side, and his rather heavy utterance, might have been +disadvantageous in any young gentleman who had not a military bearing +and mustache to give him what is doted on by some flower-like blond +heads as style. He had, moreover, that sort of high-breeding which +consists in being free from the petty solicitudes of middle-class +gentility, and he was a great critic of feminine charms. Rosamond +delighted in his admiration now even more than she had done at +Quallingham, and he found it easy to spend several hours of the day in +flirting with her. The visit altogether was one of the pleasantest +larks he had ever had, not the less so perhaps because he suspected +that his queer cousin Tertius wished him away: though Lydgate, who +would rather (hyperbolically speaking) have died than have failed in +polite hospitality, suppressed his dislike, and only pretended +generally not to hear what the gallant officer said, consigning the +task of answering him to Rosamond. For he was not at all a jealous +husband, and preferred leaving a feather-headed young gentleman alone +with his wife to bearing him company. + +I wish you would talk more to the Captain at dinner, Tertius, said +Rosamond, one evening when the important guest was gone to Loamford to +see some brother officers stationed there. You really look so absent +sometimesyou seem to be seeing through his head into something behind +it, instead of looking at him. + +My dear Rosy, you dont expect me to talk much to such a conceited ass +as that, I hope, said Lydgate, brusquely. If he got his head broken, +I might look at it with interest, not before. + +I cannot conceive why you should speak of your cousin so +contemptuously, said Rosamond, her fingers moving at her work while +she spoke with a mild gravity which had a touch of disdain in it. + +Ask Ladislaw if he doesnt think your Captain the greatest bore he +ever met with. Ladislaw has almost forsaken the house since he came. + +Rosamond thought she knew perfectly well why Mr. Ladislaw disliked the +Captain: he was jealous, and she liked his being jealous. + +It is impossible to say what will suit eccentric persons, she +answered, but in my opinion Captain Lydgate is a thorough gentleman, +and I think you ought not, out of respect to Sir Godwin, to treat him +with neglect. + +No, dear; but we have had dinners for him. And he comes in and goes +out as he likes. He doesnt want me. + +Still, when he is in the room, you might show him more attention. He +may not be a phoenix of cleverness in your sense; his profession is +different; but it would be all the better for you to talk a little on +his subjects. _I_ think his conversation is quite agreeable. And he is +anything but an unprincipled man. + +The fact is, you would wish me to be a little more like him, Rosy, +said Lydgate, in a sort of resigned murmur, with a smile which was not +exactly tender, and certainly not merry. Rosamond was silent and did +not smile again; but the lovely curves of her face looked good-tempered +enough without smiling. + +Those words of Lydgates were like a sad milestone marking how far he +had travelled from his old dreamland, in which Rosamond Vincy appeared +to be that perfect piece of womanhood who would reverence her husbands +mind after the fashion of an accomplished mermaid, using her comb and +looking-glass and singing her song for the relaxation of his adored +wisdom alone. He had begun to distinguish between that imagined +adoration and the attraction towards a mans talent because it gives +him prestige, and is like an order in his button-hole or an Honorable +before his name. + +It might have been supposed that Rosamond had travelled too, since she +had found the pointless conversation of Mr. Ned Plymdale perfectly +wearisome; but to most mortals there is a stupidity which is +unendurable and a stupidity which is altogether acceptableelse, +indeed, what would become of social bonds? Captain Lydgates stupidity +was delicately scented, carried itself with style, talked with a good +accent, and was closely related to Sir Godwin. Rosamond found it quite +agreeable and caught many of its phrases. + +Therefore since Rosamond, as we know, was fond of horseback, there were +plenty of reasons why she should be tempted to resume her riding when +Captain Lydgate, who had ordered his man with two horses to follow him +and put up at the Green Dragon, begged her to go out on the gray +which he warranted to be gentle and trained to carry a ladyindeed, he +had bought it for his sister, and was taking it to Quallingham. +Rosamond went out the first time without telling her husband, and came +back before his return; but the ride had been so thorough a success, +and she declared herself so much the better in consequence, that he was +informed of it with full reliance on his consent that she should go +riding again. + +On the contrary Lydgate was more than hurthe was utterly confounded +that she had risked herself on a strange horse without referring the +matter to his wish. After the first almost thundering exclamations of +astonishment, which sufficiently warned Rosamond of what was coming, he +was silent for some moments. + +However, you have come back safely, he said, at last, in a decisive +tone. You will not go again, Rosy; that is understood. If it were the +quietest, most familiar horse in the world, there would always be the +chance of accident. And you know very well that I wished you to give up +riding the roan on that account. + +But there is the chance of accident indoors, Tertius. + +My darling, dont talk nonsense, said Lydgate, in an imploring tone; +surely I am the person to judge for you. I think it is enough that I +say you are not to go again. + +Rosamond was arranging her hair before dinner, and the reflection of +her head in the glass showed no change in its loveliness except a +little turning aside of the long neck. Lydgate had been moving about +with his hands in his pockets, and now paused near her, as if he +awaited some assurance. + +I wish you would fasten up my plaits, dear, said Rosamond, letting +her arms fall with a little sigh, so as to make a husband ashamed of +standing there like a brute. Lydgate had often fastened the plaits +before, being among the deftest of men with his large finely formed +fingers. He swept up the soft festoons of plaits and fastened in the +tall comb (to such uses do men come!); and what could he do then but +kiss the exquisite nape which was shown in all its delicate curves? But +when we do what we have done before, it is often with a difference. +Lydgate was still angry, and had not forgotten his point. + +I shall tell the Captain that he ought to have known better than offer +you his horse, he said, as he moved away. + +I beg you will not do anything of the kind, Tertius, said Rosamond, +looking at him with something more marked than usual in her speech. It +will be treating me as if I were a child. Promise that you will leave +the subject to me. + +There did seem to be some truth in her objection. Lydgate said, Very +well, with a surly obedience, and thus the discussion ended with his +promising Rosamond, and not with her promising him. + +In fact, she had been determined not to promise. Rosamond had that +victorious obstinacy which never wastes its energy in impetuous +resistance. What she liked to do was to her the right thing, and all +her cleverness was directed to getting the means of doing it. She meant +to go out riding again on the gray, and she did go on the next +opportunity of her husbands absence, not intending that he should know +until it was late enough not to signify to her. The temptation was +certainly great: she was very fond of the exercise, and the +gratification of riding on a fine horse, with Captain Lydgate, Sir +Godwins son, on another fine horse by her side, and of being met in +this position by any one but her husband, was something as good as her +dreams before marriage: moreover she was riveting the connection with +the family at Quallingham, which must be a wise thing to do. + +But the gentle gray, unprepared for the crash of a tree that was being +felled on the edge of Halsell wood, took fright, and caused a worse +fright to Rosamond, leading finally to the loss of her baby. Lydgate +could not show his anger towards her, but he was rather bearish to the +Captain, whose visit naturally soon came to an end. + +In all future conversations on the subject, Rosamond was mildly certain +that the ride had made no difference, and that if she had stayed at +home the same symptoms would have come on and would have ended in the +same way, because she had felt something like them before. + +Lydgate could only say, Poor, poor darling!but he secretly wondered +over the terrible tenacity of this mild creature. There was gathering +within him an amazed sense of his powerlessness over Rosamond. His +superior knowledge and mental force, instead of being, as he had +imagined, a shrine to consult on all occasions, was simply set aside on +every practical question. He had regarded Rosamonds cleverness as +precisely of the receptive kind which became a woman. He was now +beginning to find out what that cleverness waswhat was the shape into +which it had run as into a close network aloof and independent. No one +quicker than Rosamond to see causes and effects which lay within the +track of her own tastes and interests: she had seen clearly Lydgates +preeminence in Middlemarch society, and could go on imaginatively +tracing still more agreeable social effects when his talent should have +advanced him; but for her, his professional and scientific ambition had +no other relation to these desirable effects than if they had been the +fortunate discovery of an ill-smelling oil. And that oil apart, with +which she had nothing to do, of course she believed in her own opinion +more than she did in his. Lydgate was astounded to find in numberless +trifling matters, as well as in this last serious case of the riding, +that affection did not make her compliant. He had no doubt that the +affection was there, and had no presentiment that he had done anything +to repel it. For his own part he said to himself that he loved her as +tenderly as ever, and could make up his mind to her negations; +butwell! Lydgate was much worried, and conscious of new elements in +his life as noxious to him as an inlet of mud to a creature that has +been used to breathe and bathe and dart after its illuminated prey in +the clearest of waters. + +Rosamond was soon looking lovelier than ever at her worktable, enjoying +drives in her fathers phaeton and thinking it likely that she might be +invited to Quallingham. She knew that she was a much more exquisite +ornament to the drawing-room there than any daughter of the family, and +in reflecting that the gentlemen were aware of that, did not perhaps +sufficiently consider whether the ladies would be eager to see +themselves surpassed. + +Lydgate, relieved from anxiety about her, relapsed into what she +inwardly called his moodinessa name which to her covered his +thoughtful preoccupation with other subjects than herself, as well as +that uneasy look of the brow and distaste for all ordinary things as if +they were mixed with bitter herbs, which really made a sort of +weather-glass to his vexation and foreboding. These latter states of +mind had one cause amongst others, which he had generously but +mistakenly avoided mentioning to Rosamond, lest it should affect her +health and spirits. Between him and her indeed there was that total +missing of each others mental track, which is too evidently possible +even between persons who are continually thinking of each other. To +Lydgate it seemed that he had been spending month after month in +sacrificing more than half of his best intent and best power to his +tenderness for Rosamond; bearing her little claims and interruptions +without impatience, and, above all, bearing without betrayal of +bitterness to look through less and less of interfering illusion at the +blank unreflecting surface her mind presented to his ardor for the more +impersonal ends of his profession and his scientific study, an ardor +which he had fancied that the ideal wife must somehow worship as +sublime, though not in the least knowing why. But his endurance was +mingled with a self-discontent which, if we know how to be candid, we +shall confess to make more than half our bitterness under grievances, +wife or husband included. It always remains true that if we had been +greater, circumstance would have been less strong against us. Lydgate +was aware that his concessions to Rosamond were often little more than +the lapse of slackening resolution, the creeping paralysis apt to seize +an enthusiasm which is out of adjustment to a constant portion of our +lives. And on Lydgates enthusiasm there was constantly pressing not a +simple weight of sorrow, but the biting presence of a petty degrading +care, such as casts the blight of irony over all higher effort. + +This was the care which he had hitherto abstained from mentioning to +Rosamond; and he believed, with some wonder, that it had never entered +her mind, though certainly no difficulty could be less mysterious. It +was an inference with a conspicuous handle to it, and had been easily +drawn by indifferent observers, that Lydgate was in debt; and he could +not succeed in keeping out of his mind for long together that he was +every day getting deeper into that swamp, which tempts men towards it +with such a pretty covering of flowers and verdure. It is wonderful how +soon a man gets up to his chin therein a condition in which, in spite +of himself, he is forced to think chiefly of release, though he had a +scheme of the universe in his soul. + +Eighteen months ago Lydgate was poor, but had never known the eager +want of small sums, and felt rather a burning contempt for any one who +descended a step in order to gain them. He was now experiencing +something worse than a simple deficit: he was assailed by the vulgar +hateful trials of a man who has bought and used a great many things +which might have been done without, and which he is unable to pay for, +though the demand for payment has become pressing. + +How this came about may be easily seen without much arithmetic or +knowledge of prices. When a man in setting up a house and preparing for +marriage finds that his furniture and other initial expenses come to +between four and five hundred pounds more than he has capital to pay +for; when at the end of a year it appears that his household expenses, +horses and et caeteras, amount to nearly a thousand, while the proceeds +of the practice reckoned from the old books to be worth eight hundred +per annum have sunk like a summer pond and make hardly five hundred, +chiefly in unpaid entries, the plain inference is that, whether he +minds it or not, he is in debt. Those were less expensive times than +our own, and provincial life was comparatively modest; but the ease +with which a medical man who had lately bought a practice, who thought +that he was obliged to keep two horses, whose table was supplied +without stint, and who paid an insurance on his life and a high rent +for house and garden, might find his expenses doubling his receipts, +can be conceived by any one who does not think these details beneath +his consideration. Rosamond, accustomed from her childhood to an +extravagant household, thought that good housekeeping consisted simply +in ordering the best of everythingnothing else answered; and Lydgate +supposed that if things were done at all, they must be done +properlyhe did not see how they were to live otherwise. If each head +of household expenditure had been mentioned to him beforehand, he would +have probably observed that it could hardly come to much, and if any +one had suggested a saving on a particular articlefor example, the +substitution of cheap fish for dearit would have appeared to him +simply a penny-wise, mean notion. Rosamond, even without such an +occasion as Captain Lydgates visit, was fond of giving invitations, +and Lydgate, though he often thought the guests tiresome, did not +interfere. This sociability seemed a necessary part of professional +prudence, and the entertainment must be suitable. It is true Lydgate +was constantly visiting the homes of the poor and adjusting his +prescriptions of diet to their small means; but, dear me! has it not by +this time ceased to be remarkableis it not rather that we expect in +men, that they should have numerous strands of experience lying side by +side and never compare them with each other? Expenditurelike ugliness +and errorsbecomes a totally new thing when we attach our own +personality to it, and measure it by that wide difference which is +manifest (in our own sensations) between ourselves and others. Lydgate +believed himself to be careless about his dress, and he despised a man +who calculated the effects of his costume; it seemed to him only a +matter of course that he had abundance of fresh garmentssuch things +were naturally ordered in sheaves. It must be remembered that he had +never hitherto felt the check of importunate debt, and he walked by +habit, not by self-criticism. But the check had come. + +Its novelty made it the more irritating. He was amazed, disgusted that +conditions so foreign to all his purposes, so hatefully disconnected +with the objects he cared to occupy himself with, should have lain in +ambush and clutched him when he was unaware. And there was not only the +actual debt; there was the certainty that in his present position he +must go on deepening it. Two furnishing tradesmen at Brassing, whose +bills had been incurred before his marriage, and whom uncalculated +current expenses had ever since prevented him from paying, had +repeatedly sent him unpleasant letters which had forced themselves on +his attention. This could hardly have been more galling to any +disposition than to Lydgates, with his intense pridehis dislike of +asking a favor or being under an obligation to any one. He had scorned +even to form conjectures about Mr. Vincys intentions on money matters, +and nothing but extremity could have induced him to apply to his +father-in-law, even if he had not been made aware in various indirect +ways since his marriage that Mr. Vincys own affairs were not +flourishing, and that the expectation of help from him would be +resented. Some men easily trust in the readiness of friends; it had +never in the former part of his life occurred to Lydgate that he should +need to do so: he had never thought what borrowing would be to him; but +now that the idea had entered his mind, he felt that he would rather +incur any other hardship. In the mean time he had no money or prospects +of money; and his practice was not getting more lucrative. + +No wonder that Lydgate had been unable to suppress all signs of inward +trouble during the last few months, and now that Rosamond was regaining +brilliant health, he meditated taking her entirely into confidence on +his difficulties. New conversance with tradesmens bills had forced his +reasoning into a new channel of comparison: he had begun to consider +from a new point of view what was necessary and unnecessary in goods +ordered, and to see that there must be some change of habits. How could +such a change be made without Rosamonds concurrence? The immediate +occasion of opening the disagreeable fact to her was forced upon him. + +Having no money, and having privately sought advice as to what security +could possibly be given by a man in his position, Lydgate had offered +the one good security in his power to the less peremptory creditor, who +was a silversmith and jeweller, and who consented to take on himself +the upholsterers credit also, accepting interest for a given term. The +security necessary was a bill of sale on the furniture of his house, +which might make a creditor easy for a reasonable time about a debt +amounting to less than four hundred pounds; and the silversmith, Mr. +Dover, was willing to reduce it by taking back a portion of the plate +and any other article which was as good as new. Any other article was +a phrase delicately implying jewellery, and more particularly some +purple amethysts costing thirty pounds, which Lydgate had bought as a +bridal present. + +Opinions may be divided as to his wisdom in making this present: some +may think that it was a graceful attention to be expected from a man +like Lydgate, and that the fault of any troublesome consequences lay in +the pinched narrowness of provincial life at that time, which offered +no conveniences for professional people whose fortune was not +proportioned to their tastes; also, in Lydgates ridiculous +fastidiousness about asking his friends for money. + +However, it had seemed a question of no moment to him on that fine +morning when he went to give a final order for plate: in the presence +of other jewels enormously expensive, and as an addition to orders of +which the amount had not been exactly calculated, thirty pounds for +ornaments so exquisitely suited to Rosamonds neck and arms could +hardly appear excessive when there was no ready cash for it to exceed. +But at this crisis Lydgates imagination could not help dwelling on the +possibility of letting the amethysts take their place again among Mr. +Dovers stock, though he shrank from the idea of proposing this to +Rosamond. Having been roused to discern consequences which he had never +been in the habit of tracing, he was preparing to act on this +discernment with some of the rigor (by no means all) that he would have +applied in pursuing experiment. He was nerving himself to this rigor as +he rode from Brassing, and meditated on the representations he must +make to Rosamond. + +It was evening when he got home. He was intensely miserable, this +strong man of nine-and-twenty and of many gifts. He was not saying +angrily within himself that he had made a profound mistake; but the +mistake was at work in him like a recognized chronic disease, mingling +its uneasy importunities with every prospect, and enfeebling every +thought. As he went along the passage to the drawing-room, he heard the +piano and singing. Of course, Ladislaw was there. It was some weeks +since Will had parted from Dorothea, yet he was still at the old post +in Middlemarch. Lydgate had no objection in general to Ladislaws +coming, but just now he was annoyed that he could not find his hearth +free. When he opened the door the two singers went on towards the +key-note, raising their eyes and looking at him indeed, but not +regarding his entrance as an interruption. To a man galled with his +harness as poor Lydgate was, it is not soothing to see two people +warbling at him, as he comes in with the sense that the painful day has +still pains in store. His face, already paler than usual, took on a +scowl as he walked across the room and flung himself into a chair. + +The singers feeling themselves excused by the fact that they had only +three bars to sing, now turned round. + +How are you, Lydgate? said Will, coming forward to shake hands. + +Lydgate took his hand, but did not think it necessary to speak. + +Have you dined, Tertius? I expected you much earlier, said Rosamond, +who had already seen that her husband was in a horrible humor. She +seated herself in her usual place as she spoke. + +I have dined. I should like some tea, please, said Lydgate, curtly, +still scowling and looking markedly at his legs stretched out before +him. + +Will was too quick to need more. I shall be off, he said, reaching +his hat. + +Tea is coming, said Rosamond; pray dont go. + +Yes, Lydgate is bored, said Will, who had more comprehension of +Lydgate than Rosamond had, and was not offended by his manner, easily +imagining outdoor causes of annoyance. + +There is the more need for you to stay, said Rosamond, playfully, and +in her lightest accent; he will not speak to me all the evening. + +Yes, Rosamond, I shall, said Lydgate, in his strong baritone. I have +some serious business to speak to you about. + +No introduction of the business could have been less like that which +Lydgate had intended; but her indifferent manner had been too +provoking. + +There! you see, said Will. Im going to the meeting about the +Mechanics Institute. Good-by; and he went quickly out of the room. + +Rosamond did not look at her husband, but presently rose and took her +place before the tea-tray. She was thinking that she had never seen him +so disagreeable. Lydgate turned his dark eyes on her and watched her as +she delicately handled the tea-service with her taper fingers, and +looked at the objects immediately before her with no curve in her face +disturbed, and yet with an ineffable protest in her air against all +people with unpleasant manners. For the moment he lost the sense of his +wound in a sudden speculation about this new form of feminine +impassibility revealing itself in the sylph-like frame which he had +once interpreted as the sign of a ready intelligent sensitiveness. His +mind glancing back to Laure while he looked at Rosamond, he said +inwardly, Would _she_ kill me because I wearied her? and then, It is +the way with all women. But this power of generalizing which gives men +so much the superiority in mistake over the dumb animals, was +immediately thwarted by Lydgates memory of wondering impressions from +the behavior of another womanfrom Dorotheas looks and tones of +emotion about her husband when Lydgate began to attend himfrom her +passionate cry to be taught what would best comfort that man for whose +sake it seemed as if she must quell every impulse in her except the +yearnings of faithfulness and compassion. These revived impressions +succeeded each other quickly and dreamily in Lydgates mind while the +tea was being brewed. He had shut his eyes in the last instant of +reverie while he heard Dorothea saying, Advise methink what I can +dohe has been all his life laboring and looking forward. He minds +about nothing elseand I mind about nothing else. + +That voice of deep-souled womanhood had remained within him as the +enkindling conceptions of dead and sceptred genius had remained within +him (is there not a genius for feeling nobly which also reigns over +human spirits and their conclusions?); the tones were a music from +which he was falling awayhe had really fallen into a momentary doze, +when Rosamond said in her silvery neutral way, Here is your tea, +Tertius, setting it on the small table by his side, and then moved +back to her place without looking at him. Lydgate was too hasty in +attributing insensibility to her; after her own fashion, she was +sensitive enough, and took lasting impressions. Her impression now was +one of offence and repulsion. But then, Rosamond had no scowls and had +never raised her voice: she was quite sure that no one could justly +find fault with her. + +Perhaps Lydgate and she had never felt so far off each other before; +but there were strong reasons for not deferring his revelation, even if +he had not already begun it by that abrupt announcement; indeed some of +the angry desire to rouse her into more sensibility on his account +which had prompted him to speak prematurely, still mingled with his +pain in the prospect of her pain. But he waited till the tray was gone, +the candles were lit, and the evening quiet might be counted on: the +interval had left time for repelled tenderness to return into the old +course. He spoke kindly. + +Dear Rosy, lay down your work and come to sit by me, he said, gently, +pushing away the table, and stretching out his arm to draw a chair near +his own. + +Rosamond obeyed. As she came towards him in her drapery of transparent +faintly tinted muslin, her slim yet round figure never looked more +graceful; as she sat down by him and laid one hand on the elbow of his +chair, at last looking at him and meeting his eyes, her delicate neck +and cheek and purely cut lips never had more of that untarnished beauty +which touches as in spring-time and infancy and all sweet freshness. It +touched Lydgate now, and mingled the early moments of his love for her +with all the other memories which were stirred in this crisis of deep +trouble. He laid his ample hand softly on hers, saying + +Dear! with the lingering utterance which affection gives to the word. +Rosamond too was still under the power of that same past, and her +husband was still in part the Lydgate whose approval had stirred +delight. She put his hair lightly away from his forehead, then laid her +other hand on his, and was conscious of forgiving him. + +I am obliged to tell you what will hurt you, Rosy. But there are +things which husband and wife must think of together. I dare say it has +occurred to you already that I am short of money. + +Lydgate paused; but Rosamond turned her neck and looked at a vase on +the mantel-piece. + +I was not able to pay for all the things we had to get before we were +married, and there have been expenses since which I have been obliged +to meet. The consequence is, there is a large debt at Brassingthree +hundred and eighty poundswhich has been pressing on me a good while, +and in fact we are getting deeper every day, for people dont pay me +the faster because others want the money. I took pains to keep it from +you while you were not well; but now we must think together about it, +and you must help me. + +What can _I_ do, Tertius? said Rosamond, turning her eyes on him +again. That little speech of four words, like so many others in all +languages, is capable by varied vocal inflections of expressing all +states of mind from helpless dimness to exhaustive argumentative +perception, from the completest self-devoting fellowship to the most +neutral aloofness. Rosamonds thin utterance threw into the words What +canIdo! as much neutrality as they could hold. They fell like a +mortal chill on Lydgates roused tenderness. He did not storm in +indignationhe felt too sad a sinking of the heart. And when he spoke +again it was more in the tone of a man who forces himself to fulfil a +task. + +It is necessary for you to know, because I have to give security for a +time, and a man must come to make an inventory of the furniture. + +Rosamond colored deeply. Have you not asked papa for money? she said, +as soon as she could speak. + +No. + +Then I must ask him! she said, releasing her hands from Lydgates, +and rising to stand at two yards distance from him. + +No, Rosy, said Lydgate, decisively. It is too late to do that. The +inventory will be begun to-morrow. Remember it is a mere security: it +will make no difference: it is a temporary affair. I insist upon it +that your father shall not know, unless I choose to tell him, added +Lydgate, with a more peremptory emphasis. + +This certainly was unkind, but Rosamond had thrown him back on evil +expectation as to what she would do in the way of quiet steady +disobedience. The unkindness seemed unpardonable to her: she was not +given to weeping and disliked it, but now her chin and lips began to +tremble and the tears welled up. Perhaps it was not possible for +Lydgate, under the double stress of outward material difficulty and of +his own proud resistance to humiliating consequences, to imagine fully +what this sudden trial was to a young creature who had known nothing +but indulgence, and whose dreams had all been of new indulgence, more +exactly to her taste. But he did wish to spare her as much as he could, +and her tears cut him to the heart. He could not speak again +immediately; but Rosamond did not go on sobbing: she tried to conquer +her agitation and wiped away her tears, continuing to look before her +at the mantel-piece. + +Try not to grieve, darling, said Lydgate, turning his eyes up towards +her. That she had chosen to move away from him in this moment of her +trouble made everything harder to say, but he must absolutely go on. +We must brace ourselves to do what is necessary. It is I who have been +in fault: I ought to have seen that I could not afford to live in this +way. But many things have told against me in my practice, and it really +just now has ebbed to a low point. I may recover it, but in the mean +time we must pull upwe must change our way of living. We shall weather +it. When I have given this security I shall have time to look about me; +and you are so clever that if you turn your mind to managing you will +school me into carefulness. I have been a thoughtless rascal about +squaring pricesbut come, dear, sit down and forgive me. + +Lydgate was bowing his neck under the yoke like a creature who had +talons, but who had Reason too, which often reduces us to meekness. +When he had spoken the last words in an imploring tone, Rosamond +returned to the chair by his side. His self-blame gave her some hope +that he would attend to her opinion, and she said + +Why can you not put off having the inventory made? You can send the +men away to-morrow when they come. + +I shall not send them away, said Lydgate, the peremptoriness rising +again. Was it of any use to explain? + +If we left Middlemarch? there would of course be a sale, and that +would do as well. + +But we are not going to leave Middlemarch. + +I am sure, Tertius, it would be much better to do so. Why can we not +go to London? Or near Durham, where your family is known? + +We can go nowhere without money, Rosamond. + +Your friends would not wish you to be without money. And surely these +odious tradesmen might be made to understand that, and to wait, if you +would make proper representations to them. + +This is idle Rosamond, said Lydgate, angrily. You must learn to take +my judgment on questions you dont understand. I have made necessary +arrangements, and they must be carried out. As to friends, I have no +expectations whatever from them, and shall not ask them for anything. + +Rosamond sat perfectly still. The thought in her mind was that if she +had known how Lydgate would behave, she would never have married him. + +We have no time to waste now on unnecessary words, dear, said +Lydgate, trying to be gentle again. There are some details that I want +to consider with you. Dover says he will take a good deal of the plate +back again, and any of the jewellery we like. He really behaves very +well. + +Are we to go without spoons and forks then? said Rosamond, whose very +lips seemed to get thinner with the thinness of her utterance. She was +determined to make no further resistance or suggestions. + +Oh no, dear! said Lydgate. But look here, he continued, drawing a +paper from his pocket and opening it; here is Dovers account. See, I +have marked a number of articles, which if we returned them would +reduce the amount by thirty pounds and more. I have not marked any of +the jewellery. Lydgate had really felt this point of the jewellery +very bitter to himself; but he had overcome the feeling by severe +argument. He could not propose to Rosamond that she should return any +particular present of his, but he had told himself that he was bound to +put Dovers offer before her, and her inward prompting might make the +affair easy. + +It is useless for me to look, Tertius, said Rosamond, calmly; you +will return what you please. She would not turn her eyes on the paper, +and Lydgate, flushing up to the roots of his hair, drew it back and let +it fall on his knee. Meanwhile Rosamond quietly went out of the room, +leaving Lydgate helpless and wondering. Was she not coming back? It +seemed that she had no more identified herself with him than if they +had been creatures of different species and opposing interests. He +tossed his head and thrust his hands deep into his pockets with a sort +of vengeance. There was still sciencethere were still good objects to +work for. He must give a tug stillall the stronger because other +satisfactions were going. + +But the door opened and Rosamond re-entered. She carried the leather +box containing the amethysts, and a tiny ornamental basket which +contained other boxes, and laying them on the chair where she had been +sitting, she said, with perfect propriety in her air + +This is all the jewellery you ever gave me. You can return what you +like of it, and of the plate also. You will not, of course, expect me +to stay at home to-morrow. I shall go to papas. + +To many women the look Lydgate cast at her would have been more +terrible than one of anger: it had in it a despairing acceptance of the +distance she was placing between them. + +And when shall you come back again? he said, with a bitter edge on +his accent. + +Oh, in the evening. Of course I shall not mention the subject to +mamma. Rosamond was convinced that no woman could behave more +irreproachably than she was behaving; and she went to sit down at her +work-table. Lydgate sat meditating a minute or two, and the result was +that he said, with some of the old emotion in his tone + +Now we have been united, Rosy, you should not leave me to myself in +the first trouble that has come. + +Certainly not, said Rosamond; I shall do everything it becomes me to +do. + +It is not right that the thing should be left to servants, or that I +should have to speak to them about it. And I shall be obliged to go +outI dont know how early. I understand your shrinking from the +humiliation of these money affairs. But, my dear Rosamond, as a +question of pride, which I feel just as much as you can, it is surely +better to manage the thing ourselves, and let the servants see as +little of it as possible; and since you are my wife, there is no +hindering your share in my disgracesif there were disgraces. + +Rosamond did not answer immediately, but at last she said, Very well, +I will stay at home. + +I shall not touch these jewels, Rosy. Take them away again. But I will +write out a list of plate that we may return, and that can be packed up +and sent at once. + +The servants will know _that_, said Rosamond, with the slightest +touch of sarcasm. + +Well, we must meet some disagreeables as necessities. Where is the +ink, I wonder? said Lydgate, rising, and throwing the account on the +larger table where he meant to write. + +Rosamond went to reach the inkstand, and after setting it on the table +was going to turn away, when Lydgate, who was standing close by, put +his arm round her and drew her towards him, saying + +Come, darling, let us make the best of things. It will only be for a +time, I hope, that we shall have to be stingy and particular. Kiss me. + +His native warm-heartedness took a great deal of quenching, and it is a +part of manliness for a husband to feel keenly the fact that an +inexperienced girl has got into trouble by marrying him. She received +his kiss and returned it faintly, and in this way an appearance of +accord was recovered for the time. But Lydgate could not help looking +forward with dread to the inevitable future discussions about +expenditure and the necessity for a complete change in their way of +living. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + +They said of old the Soul had human shape, +But smaller, subtler than the fleshly self, +So wandered forth for airing when it pleased. +And see! beside her cherub-face there floats +A pale-lipped form aerial whispering +Its promptings in that little shell her ear. + + +News is often dispersed as thoughtlessly and effectively as that pollen +which the bees carry off (having no idea how powdery they are) when +they are buzzing in search of their particular nectar. This fine +comparison has reference to Fred Vincy, who on that evening at Lowick +Parsonage heard a lively discussion among the ladies on the news which +their old servant had got from Tantripp concerning Mr. Casaubons +strange mention of Mr. Ladislaw in a codicil to his will made not long +before his death. Miss Winifred was astounded to find that her brother +had known the fact before, and observed that Camden was the most +wonderful man for knowing things and not telling them; whereupon Mary +Garth said that the codicil had perhaps got mixed up with the habits of +spiders, which Miss Winifred never would listen to. Mrs. Farebrother +considered that the news had something to do with their having only +once seen Mr. Ladislaw at Lowick, and Miss Noble made many small +compassionate mewings. + +Fred knew little and cared less about Ladislaw and the Casaubons, and +his mind never recurred to that discussion till one day calling on +Rosamond at his mothers request to deliver a message as he passed, he +happened to see Ladislaw going away. Fred and Rosamond had little to +say to each other now that marriage had removed her from collision with +the unpleasantness of brothers, and especially now that he had taken +what she held the stupid and even reprehensible step of giving up the +Church to take to such a business as Mr. Garths. Hence Fred talked by +preference of what he considered indifferent news, and a propos of +that young Ladislaw mentioned what he had heard at Lowick Parsonage. + +Now Lydgate, like Mr. Farebrother, knew a great deal more than he told, +and when he had once been set thinking about the relation between Will +and Dorothea his conjectures had gone beyond the fact. He imagined that +there was a passionate attachment on both sides, and this struck him as +much too serious to gossip about. He remembered Wills irritability +when he had mentioned Mrs. Casaubon, and was the more circumspect. On +the whole his surmises, in addition to what he knew of the fact, +increased his friendliness and tolerance towards Ladislaw, and made him +understand the vacillation which kept him at Middlemarch after he had +said that he should go away. It was significant of the separateness +between Lydgates mind and Rosamonds that he had no impulse to speak +to her on the subject; indeed, he did not quite trust her reticence +towards Will. And he was right there; though he had no vision of the +way in which her mind would act in urging her to speak. + +When she repeated Freds news to Lydgate, he said, Take care you dont +drop the faintest hint to Ladislaw, Rosy. He is likely to fly out as if +you insulted him. Of course it is a painful affair. + +Rosamond turned her neck and patted her hair, looking the image of +placid indifference. But the next time Will came when Lydgate was away, +she spoke archly about his not going to London as he had threatened. + +I know all about it. I have a confidential little bird, said she, +showing very pretty airs of her head over the bit of work held high +between her active fingers. There is a powerful magnet in this +neighborhood. + +To be sure there is. Nobody knows that better than you, said Will, +with light gallantry, but inwardly prepared to be angry. + +It is really the most charming romance: Mr. Casaubon jealous, and +foreseeing that there was no one else whom Mrs. Casaubon would so much +like to marry, and no one who would so much like to marry her as a +certain gentleman; and then laying a plan to spoil all by making her +forfeit her property if she did marry that gentlemanand thenand +thenand thenoh, I have no doubt the end will be thoroughly romantic. + +Great God! what do you mean? said Will, flushing over face and ears, +his features seeming to change as if he had had a violent shake. Dont +joke; tell me what you mean. + +You dont really know? said Rosamond, no longer playful, and desiring +nothing better than to tell in order that she might evoke effects. + +No! he returned, impatiently. + +Dont know that Mr. Casaubon has left it in his will that if Mrs. +Casaubon marries you she is to forfeit all her property? + +How do you know that it is true? said Will, eagerly. + +My brother Fred heard it from the Farebrothers. Will started up from +his chair and reached his hat. + +I dare say she likes you better than the property, said Rosamond, +looking at him from a distance. + +Pray dont say any more about it, said Will, in a hoarse undertone +extremely unlike his usual light voice. It is a foul insult to her and +to me. Then he sat down absently, looking before him, but seeing +nothing. + +Now you are angry with _me_, said Rosamond. It is too bad to bear +_me_ malice. You ought to be obliged to me for telling you. + +So I am, said Will, abruptly, speaking with that kind of double soul +which belongs to dreamers who answer questions. + +I expect to hear of the marriage, said Rosamond, playfully. + +Never! You will never hear of the marriage! + +With those words uttered impetuously, Will rose, put out his hand to +Rosamond, still with the air of a somnambulist, and went away. + +When he was gone, Rosamond left her chair and walked to the other end +of the room, leaning when she got there against a chiffonniere, and +looking out of the window wearily. She was oppressed by ennui, and by +that dissatisfaction which in womens minds is continually turning into +a trivial jealousy, referring to no real claims, springing from no +deeper passion than the vague exactingness of egoism, and yet capable +of impelling action as well as speech. There really is nothing to care +for much, said poor Rosamond inwardly, thinking of the family at +Quallingham, who did not write to her; and that perhaps Tertius when he +came home would tease her about expenses. She had already secretly +disobeyed him by asking her father to help them, and he had ended +decisively by saying, I am more likely to want help myself. + + + + +CHAPTER LX. + +Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. +_Justice Shallow_. + + +A few days afterwardsit was already the end of Augustthere was an +occasion which caused some excitement in Middlemarch: the public, if it +chose, was to have the advantage of buying, under the distinguished +auspices of Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, the furniture, books, and pictures +which anybody might see by the handbills to be the best in every kind, +belonging to Edwin Larcher, Esq. This was not one of the sales +indicating the depression of trade; on the contrary, it was due to Mr. +Larchers great success in the carrying business, which warranted his +purchase of a mansion near Riverston already furnished in high style by +an illustrious Spa physicianfurnished indeed with such large framefuls +of expensive flesh-painting in the dining-room, that Mrs. Larcher was +nervous until reassured by finding the subjects to be Scriptural. Hence +the fine opportunity to purchasers which was well pointed out in the +handbills of Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, whose acquaintance with the history +of art enabled him to state that the hall furniture, to be sold without +reserve, comprised a piece of carving by a contemporary of Gibbons. + +At Middlemarch in those times a large sale was regarded as a kind of +festival. There was a table spread with the best cold eatables, as at a +superior funeral; and facilities were offered for that +generous-drinking of cheerful glasses which might lead to generous and +cheerful bidding for undesirable articles. Mr. Larchers sale was the +more attractive in the fine weather because the house stood just at the +end of the town, with a garden and stables attached, in that pleasant +issue from Middlemarch called the London Road, which was also the road +to the New Hospital and to Mr. Bulstrodes retired residence, known as +the Shrubs. In short, the auction was as good as a fair, and drew all +classes with leisure at command: to some, who risked making bids in +order simply to raise prices, it was almost equal to betting at the +races. The second day, when the best furniture was to be sold, +everybody was there; even Mr. Thesiger, the rector of St. Peters, +had looked in for a short time, wishing to buy the carved table, and +had rubbed elbows with Mr. Bambridge and Mr. Horrock. There was a +wreath of Middlemarch ladies accommodated with seats round the large +table in the dining-room, where Mr. Borthrop Trumbull was mounted with +desk and hammer; but the rows chiefly of masculine faces behind were +often varied by incomings and outgoings both from the door and the +large bow-window opening on to the lawn. + +Everybody that day did not include Mr. Bulstrode, whose health could +not well endure crowds and draughts. But Mrs. Bulstrode had +particularly wished to have a certain picturea Supper at Emmaus, +attributed in the catalogue to Guido; and at the last moment before the +day of the sale Mr. Bulstrode had called at the office of the +Pioneer, of which he was now one of the proprietors, to beg of Mr. +Ladislaw as a great favor that he would obligingly use his remarkable +knowledge of pictures on behalf of Mrs. Bulstrode, and judge of the +value of this particular paintingif, added the scrupulously polite +banker, attendance at the sale would not interfere with the +arrangements for your departure, which I know is imminent. + +This proviso might have sounded rather satirically in Wills ear if he +had been in a mood to care about such satire. It referred to an +understanding entered into many weeks before with the proprietors of +the paper, that he should be at liberty any day he pleased to hand over +the management to the subeditor whom he had been training; since he +wished finally to quit Middlemarch. But indefinite visions of ambition +are weak against the ease of doing what is habitual or beguilingly +agreeable; and we all know the difficulty of carrying out a resolve +when we secretly long that it may turn out to be unnecessary. In such +states of mind the most incredulous person has a private leaning +towards miracle: impossible to conceive how our wish could be +fulfilled, stillvery wonderful things have happened! Will did not +confess this weakness to himself, but he lingered. What was the use of +going to London at that time of the year? The Rugby men who would +remember him were not there; and so far as political writing was +concerned, he would rather for a few weeks go on with the Pioneer. At +the present moment, however, when Mr. Bulstrode was speaking to him, he +had both a strengthened resolve to go and an equally strong resolve not +to go till he had once more seen Dorothea. Hence he replied that he had +reasons for deferring his departure a little, and would be happy to go +to the sale. + +Will was in a defiant mood, his consciousness being deeply stung with +the thought that the people who looked at him probably knew a fact +tantamount to an accusation against him as a fellow with low designs +which were to be frustrated by a disposal of property. Like most people +who assert their freedom with regard to conventional distinction, he +was prepared to be sudden and quick at quarrel with any one who might +hint that he had personal reasons for that assertionthat there was +anything in his blood, his bearing, or his character to which he gave +the mask of an opinion. When he was under an irritating impression of +this kind he would go about for days with a defiant look, the color +changing in his transparent skin as if he were on the _qui vive_, +watching for something which he had to dart upon. + +This expression was peculiarly noticeable in him at the sale, and those +who had only seen him in his moods of gentle oddity or of bright +enjoyment would have been struck with a contrast. He was not sorry to +have this occasion for appearing in public before the Middlemarch +tribes of Toller, Hackbutt, and the rest, who looked down on him as an +adventurer, and were in a state of brutal ignorance about Dantewho +sneered at his Polish blood, and were themselves of a breed very much +in need of crossing. He stood in a conspicuous place not far from the +auctioneer, with a fore-finger in each side-pocket and his head thrown +backward, not caring to speak to anybody, though he had been cordially +welcomed as a connoiss_ure_ by Mr. Trumbull, who was enjoying the +utmost activity of his great faculties. + +And surely among all men whose vocation requires them to exhibit their +powers of speech, the happiest is a prosperous provincial auctioneer +keenly alive to his own jokes and sensible of his encyclopedic +knowledge. Some saturnine, sour-blooded persons might object to be +constantly insisting on the merits of all articles from boot-jacks to +Berghems; but Mr. Borthrop Trumbull had a kindly liquid in his veins; +he was an admirer by nature, and would have liked to have the universe +under his hammer, feeling that it would go at a higher figure for his +recommendation. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Larchers drawing-room furniture was enough for him. +When Will Ladislaw had come in, a second fender, said to have been +forgotten in its right place, suddenly claimed the auctioneers +enthusiasm, which he distributed on the equitable principle of praising +those things most which were most in need of praise. The fender was of +polished steel, with much lancet-shaped open-work and a sharp edge. + +Now, ladies, said he, I shall appeal to you. Here is a fender which +at any other sale would hardly be offered with out reserve, being, as I +may say, for quality of steel and quaintness of design, a kind of +thinghere Mr. Trumbull dropped his voice and became slightly nasal, +trimming his outlines with his left fingerthat might not fall in with +ordinary tastes. Allow me to tell you that by-and-by this style of +workmanship will be the only one in voguehalf-a-crown, you said? thank +yougoing at half-a-crown, this characteristic fender; and I have +particular information that the antique style is very much sought after +in high quarters. Three shillingsthree-and-sixpencehold it well up, +Joseph! Look, ladies, at the chastity of the designI have no doubt +myself that it was turned out in the last century! Four shillings, Mr. +Mawmsey?four shillings. + +Its not a thing I would put in _my_ drawing-room, said Mrs. Mawmsey, +audibly, for the warning of the rash husband. I wonder _at_ Mrs. +Larcher. Every blessed childs head that fell against it would be cut +in two. The edge is like a knife. + +Quite true, rejoined Mr. Trumbull, quickly, and most uncommonly +useful to have a fender at hand that will cut, if you have a leather +shoe-tie or a bit of string that wants cutting and no knife at hand: +many a man has been left hanging because there was no knife to cut him +down. Gentlemen, heres a fender that if you had the misfortune to hang +yourselves would cut you down in no timewith astonishing +celerityfour-and-sixpencefivefive-and-sixpencean appropriate thing +for a spare bedroom where there was a four-poster and a guest a little +out of his mindsix shillingsthank you, Mr. Clintupgoing at six +shillingsgoinggone! The auctioneers glance, which had been +searching round him with a preternatural susceptibility to all signs of +bidding, here dropped on the paper before him, and his voice too +dropped into a tone of indifferent despatch as he said, Mr. Clintup. +Be handy, Joseph. + +It was worth six shillings to have a fender you could always tell that +joke on, said Mr. Clintup, laughing low and apologetically to his next +neighbor. He was a diffident though distinguished nurseryman, and +feared that the audience might regard his bid as a foolish one. + +Meanwhile Joseph had brought a trayful of small articles. Now, +ladies, said Mr. Trumbull, taking up one of the articles, this tray +contains a very recherchy lota collection of trifles for the +drawing-room tableand trifles make the sum _of_ human thingsnothing +more important than trifles(yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes, by-and-by)but +pass the tray round, Josephthese bijoux must be examined, ladies. This +I have in my hand is an ingenious contrivancea sort of practical +rebus, I may call it: here, you see, it looks like an elegant +heart-shaped box, portablefor the pocket; there, again, it becomes +like a splendid double floweran ornament for the table; and nowMr. +Trumbull allowed the flower to fall alarmingly into strings of +heart-shaped leavesa book of riddles! No less than five hundred +printed in a beautiful red. Gentlemen, if I had less of a conscience, I +should not wish you to bid high for this lotI have a longing for it +myself. What can promote innocent mirth, and I may say virtue, more +than a good riddle?it hinders profane language, and attaches a man to +the society of refined females. This ingenious article itself, without +the elegant domino-box, card-basket, &c., ought alone to give a high +price to the lot. Carried in the pocket it might make an individual +welcome in any society. Four shillings, sir?four shillings for this +remarkable collection of riddles with the et caeteras. Here is a +sample: How must you spell honey to make it catch lady-birds? +Answermoney. You hear?lady-birdshoney money. This is an amusement +to sharpen the intellect; it has a stingit has what we call satire, +and wit without indecency. Four-and-sixpencefive shillings. + +The bidding ran on with warming rivalry. Mr. Bowyer was a bidder, and +this was too exasperating. Bowyer couldnt afford it, and only wanted +to hinder every other man from making a figure. The current carried +even Mr. Horrock with it, but this committal of himself to an opinion +fell from him with so little sacrifice of his neutral expression, that +the bid might not have been detected as his but for the friendly oaths +of Mr. Bambridge, who wanted to know what Horrock would do with blasted +stuff only fit for haberdashers given over to that state of perdition +which the horse-dealer so cordially recognized in the majority of +earthly existences. The lot was finally knocked down at a guinea to Mr. +Spilkins, a young Slender of the neighborhood, who was reckless with +his pocket-money and felt his want of memory for riddles. + +Come, Trumbull, this is too badyouve been putting some old maids +rubbish into the sale, murmured Mr. Toller, getting close to the +auctioneer. I want to see how the prints go, and I must be off soon. + +_Im_mediately, Mr. Toller. It was only an act of benevolence which +your noble heart would approve. Joseph! quick with the printsLot 235. +Now, gentlemen, you who are connoiss_ures_, you are going to have a +treat. Here is an engraving of the Duke of Wellington surrounded by his +staff on the Field of Waterloo; and notwithstanding recent events which +have, as it were, enveloped our great Hero in a cloud, I will be bold +to sayfor a man in my line must not be blown about by political +windsthat a finer subjectof the modern order, belonging to our own +time and epochthe understanding of man could hardly conceive: angels +might, perhaps, but not men, sirs, not men. + +Who painted it? said Mr. Powderell, much impressed. + +It is a proof before the letter, Mr. Powderellthe painter is not +known, answered Trumbull, with a certain gaspingness in his last +words, after which he pursed up his lips and stared round him. + +Ill bid a pound! said Mr. Powderell, in a tone of resolved emotion, +as of a man ready to put himself in the breach. Whether from awe or +pity, nobody raised the price on him. + +Next came two Dutch prints which Mr. Toller had been eager for, and +after he had secured them he went away. Other prints, and afterwards +some paintings, were sold to leading Middlemarchers who had come with a +special desire for them, and there was a more active movement of the +audience in and out; some, who had bought what they wanted, going away, +others coming in either quite newly or from a temporary visit to the +refreshments which were spread under the marquee on the lawn. It was +this marquee that Mr. Bambridge was bent on buying, and he appeared to +like looking inside it frequently, as a foretaste of its possession. On +the last occasion of his return from it he was observed to bring with +him a new companion, a stranger to Mr. Trumbull and every one else, +whose appearance, however, led to the supposition that he might be a +relative of the horse-dealersalso given to indulgence. His large +whiskers, imposing swagger, and swing of the leg, made him a striking +figure; but his suit of black, rather shabby at the edges, caused the +prejudicial inference that he was not able to afford himself as much +indulgence as he liked. + +Who is it youve picked up, Bam? said Mr. Horrock, aside. + +Ask him yourself, returned Mr. Bambridge. He said hed just turned +in from the road. + +Mr. Horrock eyed the stranger, who was leaning back against his stick +with one hand, using his toothpick with the other, and looking about +him with a certain restlessness apparently under the silence imposed on +him by circumstances. + +At length the Supper at Emmaus was brought forward, to Wills immense +relief, for he was getting so tired of the proceedings that he had +drawn back a little and leaned his shoulder against the wall just +behind the auctioneer. He now came forward again, and his eye caught +the conspicuous stranger, who, rather to his surprise, was staring at +him markedly. But Will was immediately appealed to by Mr. Trumbull. + +Yes, Mr. Ladislaw, yes; this interests you as a connoiss_ure_, I +think. It is some pleasure, the auctioneer went on with a rising +fervor, to have a picture like this to show to a company of ladies and +gentlemena picture worth any sum to an individual whose means were on +a level with his judgment. It is a painting of the Italian schoolby +the celebrated _Guydo_, the greatest painter in the world, the chief of +the Old Masters, as they are calledI take it, because they were up to +a thing or two beyond most of usin possession of secrets now lost to +the bulk of mankind. Let me tell you, gentlemen, I have seen a great +many pictures by the Old Masters, and they are not all up to this +marksome of them are darker than you might like and not family +subjects. But here is a _Guydo_the frame alone is worth poundswhich +any lady might be proud to hang upa suitable thing for what we call a +refectory in a charitable institution, if any gentleman of the +Corporation wished to show his munifi_cence_. Turn it a little, sir? +yes. Joseph, turn it a little towards Mr. LadislawMr. Ladislaw, having +been abroad, understands the merit of these things, you observe. + +All eyes were for a moment turned towards Will, who said, coolly, Five +pounds. The auctioneer burst out in deep remonstrance. + +Ah! Mr. Ladislaw! the frame alone is worth that. Ladies and gentlemen, +for the credit of the town! Suppose it should be discovered hereafter +that a gem of art has been amongst us in this town, and nobody in +Middlemarch awake to it. Five guineasfive seven-sixfive ten. Still, +ladies, still! It is a gem, and Full many a gem, as the poet says, +has been allowed to go at a nominal price because the public knew no +better, because it was offered in circles where there wasI was going +to say a low feeling, but no!Six poundssix guineasa _Guydo_ of the +first order going at six guineasit is an insult to religion, ladies; +it touches us all as Christians, gentlemen, that a subject like this +should go at such a low figuresix pounds tenseven + +The bidding was brisk, and Will continued to share in it, remembering +that Mrs. Bulstrode had a strong wish for the picture, and thinking +that he might stretch the price to twelve pounds. But it was knocked +down to him at ten guineas, whereupon he pushed his way towards the +bow-window and went out. He chose to go under the marquee to get a +glass of water, being hot and thirsty: it was empty of other visitors, +and he asked the woman in attendance to fetch him some fresh water; but +before she was well gone he was annoyed to see entering the florid +stranger who had stared at him. It struck Will at this moment that the +man might be one of those political parasitic insects of the bloated +kind who had once or twice claimed acquaintance with him as having +heard him speak on the Reform question, and who might think of getting +a shilling by news. In this light his person, already rather heating to +behold on a summers day, appeared the more disagreeable; and Will, +half-seated on the elbow of a garden-chair, turned his eyes carefully +away from the comer. But this signified little to our acquaintance Mr. +Raffles, who never hesitated to thrust himself on unwilling +observation, if it suited his purpose to do so. He moved a step or two +till he was in front of Will, and said with full-mouthed haste, Excuse +me, Mr. Ladislawwas your mothers name Sarah Dunkirk? + +Will, starting to his feet, moved backward a step, frowning, and saying +with some fierceness, Yes, sir, it was. And what is that to you? + +It was in Wills nature that the first spark it threw out was a direct +answer of the question and a challenge of the consequences. To have +said, What is that to you? in the first instance, would have seemed +like shufflingas if he minded who knew anything about his origin! + +Raffles on his side had not the same eagerness for a collision which +was implied in Ladislaws threatening air. The slim young fellow with +his girls complexion looked like a tiger-cat ready to spring on him. +Under such circumstances Mr. Raffless pleasure in annoying his company +was kept in abeyance. + +No offence, my good sir, no offence! I only remember your motherknew +her when she was a girl. But it is your father that you feature, sir. I +had the pleasure of seeing your father too. Parents alive, Mr. +Ladislaw? + +No! thundered Will, in the same attitude as before. + +Should be glad to do you a service, Mr. Ladislawby Jove, I should! +Hope to meet again. + +Hereupon Raffles, who had lifted his hat with the last words, turned +himself round with a swing of his leg and walked away. Will looked +after him a moment, and could see that he did not re-enter the +auction-room, but appeared to be walking towards the road. For an +instant he thought that he had been foolish not to let the man go on +talking;but no! on the whole he preferred doing without knowledge from +that source. + +Later in the evening, however, Raffles overtook him in the street, and +appearing either to have forgotten the roughness of his former +reception or to intend avenging it by a forgiving familiarity, greeted +him jovially and walked by his side, remarking at first on the +pleasantness of the town and neighborhood. Will suspected that the man +had been drinking and was considering how to shake him off when Raffles +said + +Ive been abroad myself, Mr. LadislawIve seen the worldused to +parley-vous a little. It was at Boulogne I saw your fathera most +uncommon likeness you are of him, by Jove! mouthnoseeyeshair turned +off your brow just like hisa little in the foreign style. John Bull +doesnt do much of that. But your father was very ill when I saw him. +Lord, lord! hands you might see through. You were a small youngster +then. Did he get well? + +No, said Will, curtly. + +Ah! Well! Ive often wondered what became of your mother. She ran away +from her friends when she was a young lassa proud-spirited lass, and +pretty, by Jove! I knew the reason why she ran away, said Raffles, +winking slowly as he looked sideways at Will. + +You know nothing dishonorable of her, sir, said Will, turning on him +rather savagely. But Mr. Raffles just now was not sensitive to shades +of manner. + +Not a bit! said he, tossing his head decisively. She was a little +too honorable to like her friendsthat was it! Here Raffles again +winked slowly. Lord bless you, I knew all about ema little in what +you may call the respectable thieving linethe high style of +receiving-housenone of your holes and cornersfirst-rate. Slap-up +shop, high profits and no mistake. But Lord! Sarah would have known +nothing about ita dashing young lady she wasfine boarding-schoolfit +for a lords wifeonly Archie Duncan threw it at her out of spite, +because she would have nothing to do with him. And so she ran away from +the whole concern. I travelled for em, sir, in a gentlemanly wayat a +high salary. They didnt mind her running away at firstgodly folks, +sir, very godlyand she was for the stage. The son was alive then, and +the daughter was at a discount. Hallo! here we are at the Blue Bull. +What do you say, Mr. Ladislaw?shall we turn in and have a glass? + +No, I must say good evening, said Will, dashing up a passage which +led into Lowick Gate, and almost running to get out of Raffless reach. + +He walked a long while on the Lowick road away from the town, glad of +the starlit darkness when it came. He felt as if he had had dirt cast +on him amidst shouts of scorn. There was this to confirm the fellows +statementthat his mother never would tell him the reason why she had +run away from her family. + +Well! what was he, Will Ladislaw, the worse, supposing the truth about +that family to be the ugliest? His mother had braved hardship in order +to separate herself from it. But if Dorotheas friends had known this +storyif the Chettams had known itthey would have had a fine color to +give their suspicions a welcome ground for thinking him unfit to come +near her. However, let them suspect what they pleased, they would find +themselves in the wrong. They would find out that the blood in his +veins was as free from the taint of meanness as theirs. + + + + +CHAPTER LXI. + +Inconsistencies, answered Imlac, cannot both be right, but imputed +to man they may both be true._Rasselas_. + + +The same night, when Mr. Bulstrode returned from a journey to Brassing +on business, his good wife met him in the entrance-hall and drew him +into his private sitting-room. + +Nicholas, she said, fixing her honest eyes upon him anxiously, there +has been such a disagreeable man here asking for youit has made me +quite uncomfortable. + +What kind of man, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, dreadfully certain of +the answer. + +A red-faced man with large whiskers, and most impudent in his manner. +He declared he was an old friend of yours, and said you would be sorry +not to see him. He wanted to wait for you here, but I told him he could +see you at the Bank to-morrow morning. Most impudent he was!stared at +me, and said his friend Nick had luck in wives. I dont believe he +would have gone away, if Blucher had not happened to break his chain +and come running round on the gravelfor I was in the garden; so I +said, Youd better go awaythe dog is very fierce, and I cant hold +him. Do you really know anything of such a man? + +I believe I know who he is, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, in his usual +subdued voice, an unfortunate dissolute wretch, whom I helped too much +in days gone by. However, I presume you will not be troubled by him +again. He will probably come to the Bankto beg, doubtless. + +No more was said on the subject until the next day, when Mr. Bulstrode +had returned from the town and was dressing for dinner. His wife, not +sure that he was come home, looked into his dressing-room and saw him +with his coat and cravat off, leaning one arm on a chest of drawers and +staring absently at the ground. He started nervously and looked up as +she entered. + +You look very ill, Nicholas. Is there anything the matter? + +I have a good deal of pain in my head, said Mr. Bulstrode, who was so +frequently ailing that his wife was always ready to believe in this +cause of depression. + +Sit down and let me sponge it with vinegar. + +Physically Mr. Bulstrode did not want the vinegar, but morally the +affectionate attention soothed him. Though always polite, it was his +habit to receive such services with marital coolness, as his wifes +duty. But to-day, while she was bending over him, he said, You are +very good, Harriet, in a tone which had something new in it to her +ear; she did not know exactly what the novelty was, but her womans +solicitude shaped itself into a darting thought that he might be going +to have an illness. + +Has anything worried you? she said. Did that man come to you at the +Bank? + +Yes; it was as I had supposed. He is a man who at one time might have +done better. But he has sunk into a drunken debauched creature. + +Is he quite gone away? said Mrs. Bulstrode, anxiously; but for +certain reasons she refrained from adding, It was very disagreeable to +hear him calling himself a friend of yours. At that moment she would +not have liked to say anything which implied her habitual consciousness +that her husbands earlier connections were not quite on a level with +her own. Not that she knew much about them. That her husband had at +first been employed in a bank, that he had afterwards entered into what +he called city business and gained a fortune before he was +three-and-thirty, that he had married a widow who was much older than +himselfa Dissenter, and in other ways probably of that disadvantageous +quality usually perceptible in a first wife if inquired into with the +dispassionate judgment of a secondwas almost as much as she had cared +to learn beyond the glimpses which Mr. Bulstrodes narrative +occasionally gave of his early bent towards religion, his inclination +to be a preacher, and his association with missionary and philanthropic +efforts. She believed in him as an excellent man whose piety carried a +peculiar eminence in belonging to a layman, whose influence had turned +her own mind toward seriousness, and whose share of perishable good had +been the means of raising her own position. But she also liked to think +that it was well in every sense for Mr. Bulstrode to have won the hand +of Harriet Vincy; whose family was undeniable in a Middlemarch lighta +better light surely than any thrown in London thoroughfares or +dissenting chapel-yards. The unreformed provincial mind distrusted +London; and while true religion was everywhere saving, honest Mrs. +Bulstrode was convinced that to be saved in the Church was more +respectable. She so much wished to ignore towards others that her +husband had ever been a London Dissenter, that she liked to keep it out +of sight even in talking to him. He was quite aware of this; indeed in +some respects he was rather afraid of this ingenuous wife, whose +imitative piety and native worldliness were equally sincere, who had +nothing to be ashamed of, and whom he had married out of a thorough +inclination still subsisting. But his fears were such as belong to a +man who cares to maintain his recognized supremacy: the loss of high +consideration from his wife, as from every one else who did not clearly +hate him out of enmity to the truth, would be as the beginning of death +to him. When she said + +Is he quite gone away? + +Oh, I trust so, he answered, with an effort to throw as much sober +unconcern into his tone as possible! + +But in truth Mr. Bulstrode was very far from a state of quiet trust. In +the interview at the Bank, Raffles had made it evident that his +eagerness to torment was almost as strong in him as any other greed. He +had frankly said that he had turned out of the way to come to +Middlemarch, just to look about him and see whether the neighborhood +would suit him to live in. He had certainly had a few debts to pay more +than he expected, but the two hundred pounds were not gone yet: a cool +five-and-twenty would suffice him to go away with for the present. What +he had wanted chiefly was to see his friend Nick and family, and know +all about the prosperity of a man to whom he was so much attached. +By-and-by he might come back for a longer stay. This time Raffles +declined to be seen off the premises, as he expressed itdeclined to +quit Middlemarch under Bulstrodes eyes. He meant to go by coach the +next dayif he chose. + +Bulstrode felt himself helpless. Neither threats nor coaxing could +avail: he could not count on any persistent fear nor on any promise. On +the contrary, he felt a cold certainty at his heart that Rafflesunless +providence sent death to hinder himwould come back to Middlemarch +before long. And that certainty was a terror. + +It was not that he was in danger of legal punishment or of beggary: he +was in danger only of seeing disclosed to the judgment of his neighbors +and the mournful perception of his wife certain facts of his past life +which would render him an object of scorn and an opprobrium of the +religion with which he had diligently associated himself. The terror of +being judged sharpens the memory: it sends an inevitable glare over +that long-unvisited past which has been habitually recalled only in +general phrases. Even without memory, the life is bound into one by a +zone of dependence in growth and decay; but intense memory forces a man +to own his blameworthy past. With memory set smarting like a reopened +wound, a mans past is not simply a dead history, an outworn +preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose +from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing +shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame. + +Into this second life Bulstrodes past had now risen, only the +pleasures of it seeming to have lost their quality. Night and day, +without interruption save of brief sleep which only wove retrospect and +fear into a fantastic present, he felt the scenes of his earlier life +coming between him and everything else, as obstinately as when we look +through the window from a lighted room, the objects we turn our backs +on are still before us, instead of the grass and the trees. The +successive events inward and outward were there in one view: though +each might be dwelt on in turn, the rest still kept their hold in the +consciousness. + +Once more he saw himself the young bankers clerk, with an agreeable +person, as clever in figures as he was fluent in speech and fond of +theological definition: an eminent though young member of a Calvinistic +dissenting church at Highbury, having had striking experience in +conviction of sin and sense of pardon. Again he heard himself called +for as Brother Bulstrode in prayer meetings, speaking on religious +platforms, preaching in private houses. Again he felt himself thinking +of the ministry as possibly his vocation, and inclined towards +missionary labor. That was the happiest time of his life: that was the +spot he would have chosen now to awake in and find the rest a dream. +The people among whom Brother Bulstrode was distinguished were very +few, but they were very near to him, and stirred his satisfaction the +more; his power stretched through a narrow space, but he felt its +effect the more intensely. He believed without effort in the peculiar +work of grace within him, and in the signs that God intended him for +special instrumentality. + +Then came the moment of transition; it was with the sense of promotion +he had when he, an orphan educated at a commercial charity-school, was +invited to a fine villa belonging to Mr. Dunkirk, the richest man in +the congregation. Soon he became an intimate there, honored for his +piety by the wife, marked out for his ability by the husband, whose +wealth was due to a flourishing city and west-end trade. That was the +setting-in of a new current for his ambition, directing his prospects +of instrumentality towards the uniting of distinguished religious +gifts with successful business. + +By-and-by came a decided external leading: a confidential subordinate +partner died, and nobody seemed to the principal so well fitted to fill +the severely felt vacancy as his young friend Bulstrode, if he would +become confidential accountant. The offer was accepted. The business +was a pawnbrokers, of the most magnificent sort both in extent and +profits; and on a short acquaintance with it Bulstrode became aware +that one source of magnificent profit was the easy reception of any +goods offered, without strict inquiry as to where they came from. But +there was a branch house at the west end, and no pettiness or dinginess +to give suggestions of shame. + +He remembered his first moments of shrinking. They were private, and +were filled with arguments; some of these taking the form of prayer. +The business was established and had old roots; is it not one thing to +set up a new gin-palace and another to accept an investment in an old +one? The profits made out of lost soulswhere can the line be drawn at +which they begin in human transactions? Was it not even Gods way of +saving His chosen? Thou knowest,the young Bulstrode had said then, +as the older Bulstrode was saying nowThou knowest how loose my soul +sits from these thingshow I view them all as implements for tilling +Thy garden rescued here and there from the wilderness. + +Metaphors and precedents were not wanting; peculiar spiritual +experiences were not wanting which at last made the retention of his +position seem a service demanded of him: the vista of a fortune had +already opened itself, and Bulstrodes shrinking remained private. Mr. +Dunkirk had never expected that there would be any shrinking at all: he +had never conceived that trade had anything to do with the scheme of +salvation. And it was true that Bulstrode found himself carrying on two +distinct lives; his religious activity could not be incompatible with +his business as soon as he had argued himself into not feeling it +incompatible. + +Mentally surrounded with that past again, Bulstrode had the same +pleasindeed, the years had been perpetually spinning them into +intricate thickness, like masses of spider-web, padding the moral +sensibility; nay, as age made egoism more eager but less enjoying, his +soul had become more saturated with the belief that he did everything +for Gods sake, being indifferent to it for his own. And yetif he +could be back in that far-off spot with his youthful povertywhy, then +he would choose to be a missionary. + +But the train of causes in which he had locked himself went on. There +was trouble in the fine villa at Highbury. Years before, the only +daughter had run away, defied her parents, and gone on the stage; and +now the only boy died, and after a short time Mr. Dunkirk died also. +The wife, a simple pious woman, left with all the wealth in and out of +the magnificent trade, of which she never knew the precise nature, had +come to believe in Bulstrode, and innocently adore him as women often +adore their priest or man-made minister. It was natural that after a +time marriage should have been thought of between them. But Mrs. +Dunkirk had qualms and yearnings about her daughter, who had long been +regarded as lost both to God and her parents. It was known that the +daughter had married, but she was utterly gone out of sight. The +mother, having lost her boy, imagined a grandson, and wished in a +double sense to reclaim her daughter. If she were found, there would be +a channel for propertyperhaps a wide onein the provision for several +grandchildren. Efforts to find her must be made before Mrs. Dunkirk +would marry again. Bulstrode concurred; but after advertisement as well +as other modes of inquiry had been tried, the mother believed that her +daughter was not to be found, and consented to marry without +reservation of property. + +The daughter had been found; but only one man besides Bulstrode knew +it, and he was paid for keeping silence and carrying himself away. + +That was the bare fact which Bulstrode was now forced to see in the +rigid outline with which acts present themselves to onlookers. But for +himself at that distant time, and even now in burning memory, the fact +was broken into little sequences, each justified as it came by +reasonings which seemed to prove it righteous. Bulstrodes course up to +that time had, he thought, been sanctioned by remarkable providences, +appearing to point the way for him to be the agent in making the best +use of a large property and withdrawing it from perversion. Death and +other striking dispositions, such as feminine trustfulness, had come; +and Bulstrode would have adopted Cromwells wordsDo you call these +bare events? The Lord pity you! The events were comparatively small, +but the essential condition was therenamely, that they were in favor +of his own ends. It was easy for him to settle what was due from him to +others by inquiring what were Gods intentions with regard to himself. +Could it be for Gods service that this fortune should in any +considerable proportion go to a young woman and her husband who were +given up to the lightest pursuits, and might scatter it abroad in +trivialitypeople who seemed to lie outside the path of remarkable +providences? Bulstrode had never said to himself beforehand, The +daughter shall not be foundnevertheless when the moment came he kept +her existence hidden; and when other moments followed, he soothed the +mother with consolation in the probability that the unhappy young woman +might be no more. + +There were hours in which Bulstrode felt that his action was +unrighteous; but how could he go back? He had mental exercises, called +himself nought, laid hold on redemption, and went on in his course of +instrumentality. And after five years Death again came to widen his +path, by taking away his wife. He did gradually withdraw his capital, +but he did not make the sacrifices requisite to put an end to the +business, which was carried on for thirteen years afterwards before it +finally collapsed. Meanwhile Nicholas Bulstrode had used his hundred +thousand discreetly, and was become provincially, solidly importanta +banker, a Churchman, a public benefactor; also a sleeping partner in +trading concerns, in which his ability was directed to economy in the +raw material, as in the case of the dyes which rotted Mr. Vincys silk. +And now, when this respectability had lasted undisturbed for nearly +thirty yearswhen all that preceded it had long lain benumbed in the +consciousnessthat past had risen and immersed his thought as if with +the terrible irruption of a new sense overburthening the feeble being. + +Meanwhile, in his conversation with Raffles, he had learned something +momentous, something which entered actively into the struggle of his +longings and terrors. There, he thought, lay an opening towards +spiritual, perhaps towards material rescue. + +The spiritual kind of rescue was a genuine need with him. There may be +coarse hypocrites, who consciously affect beliefs and emotions for the +sake of gulling the world, but Bulstrode was not one of them. He was +simply a man whose desires had been stronger than his theoretic +beliefs, and who had gradually explained the gratification of his +desires into satisfactory agreement with those beliefs. If this be +hypocrisy, it is a process which shows itself occasionally in us all, +to whatever confession we belong, and whether we believe in the future +perfection of our race or in the nearest date fixed for the end of the +world; whether we regard the earth as a putrefying nidus for a saved +remnant, including ourselves, or have a passionate belief in the +solidarity of mankind. + +The service he could do to the cause of religion had been through life +the ground he alleged to himself for his choice of action: it had been +the motive which he had poured out in his prayers. Who would use money +and position better than he meant to use them? Who could surpass him in +self-abhorrence and exaltation of Gods cause? And to Mr. Bulstrode +Gods cause was something distinct from his own rectitude of conduct: +it enforced a discrimination of Gods enemies, who were to be used +merely as instruments, and whom it would be as well if possible to keep +out of money and consequent influence. Also, profitable investments in +trades where the power of the prince of this world showed its most +active devices, became sanctified by a right application of the profits +in the hands of Gods servant. + +This implicit reasoning is essentially no more peculiar to evangelical +belief than the use of wide phrases for narrow motives is peculiar to +Englishmen. There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating +out our morality if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct +fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men. + +But a man who believes in something else than his own greed, has +necessarily a conscience or standard to which he more or less adapts +himself. Bulstrodes standard had been his serviceableness to Gods +cause: I am sinful and noughta vessel to be consecrated by usebut +use me!had been the mould into which he had constrained his immense +need of being something important and predominating. And now had come a +moment in which that mould seemed in danger of being broken and utterly +cast away. + +What if the acts he had reconciled himself to because they made him a +stronger instrument of the divine glory, were to become the pretext of +the scoffer, and a darkening of that glory? If this were to be the +ruling of Providence, he was cast out from the temple as one who had +brought unclean offerings. + +He had long poured out utterances of repentance. But today a repentance +had come which was of a bitterer flavor, and a threatening Providence +urged him to a kind of propitiation which was not simply a doctrinal +transaction. The divine tribunal had changed its aspect for him; +self-prostration was no longer enough, and he must bring restitution in +his hand. It was really before his God that Bulstrode was about to +attempt such restitution as seemed possible: a great dread had seized +his susceptible frame, and the scorching approach of shame wrought in +him a new spiritual need. Night and day, while the resurgent +threatening past was making a conscience within him, he was thinking by +what means he could recover peace and trustby what sacrifice he could +stay the rod. His belief in these moments of dread was, that if he +spontaneously did something right, God would save him from the +consequences of wrong-doing. For religion can only change when the +emotions which fill it are changed; and the religion of personal fear +remains nearly at the level of the savage. + +He had seen Raffles actually going away on the Brassing coach, and this +was a temporary relief; it removed the pressure of an immediate dread, +but did not put an end to the spiritual conflict and the need to win +protection. At last he came to a difficult resolve, and wrote a letter +to Will Ladislaw, begging him to be at the Shrubs that evening for a +private interview at nine oclock. Will had felt no particular surprise +at the request, and connected it with some new notions about the +Pioneer; but when he was shown into Mr. Bulstrodes private room, he +was struck with the painfully worn look on the bankers face, and was +going to say, Are you ill? when, checking himself in that abruptness, +he only inquired after Mrs. Bulstrode, and her satisfaction with the +picture bought for her. + +Thank you, she is quite satisfied; she has gone out with her daughters +this evening. I begged you to come, Mr. Ladislaw, because I have a +communication of a very privateindeed, I will say, of a sacredly +confidential nature, which I desire to make to you. Nothing, I dare +say, has been farther from your thoughts than that there had been +important ties in the past which could connect your history with mine. + +Will felt something like an electric shock. He was already in a state +of keen sensitiveness and hardly allayed agitation on the subject of +ties in the past, and his presentiments were not agreeable. It seemed +like the fluctuations of a dreamas if the action begun by that loud +bloated stranger were being carried on by this pale-eyed sickly looking +piece of respectability, whose subdued tone and glib formality of +speech were at this moment almost as repulsive to him as their +remembered contrast. He answered, with a marked change of color + +No, indeed, nothing. + +You see before you, Mr. Ladislaw, a man who is deeply stricken. But +for the urgency of conscience and the knowledge that I am before the +bar of One who seeth not as man seeth, I should be under no compulsion +to make the disclosure which has been my object in asking you to come +here to-night. So far as human laws go, you have no claim on me +whatever. + +Will was even more uncomfortable than wondering. Mr. Bulstrode had +paused, leaning his head on his hand, and looking at the floor. But he +now fixed his examining glance on Will and said + +I am told that your mothers name was Sarah Dunkirk, and that she ran +away from her friends to go on the stage. Also, that your father was at +one time much emaciated by illness. May I ask if you can confirm these +statements? + +Yes, they are all true, said Will, struck with the order in which an +inquiry had come, that might have been expected to be preliminary to +the bankers previous hints. But Mr. Bulstrode had to-night followed +the order of his emotions; he entertained no doubt that the opportunity +for restitution had come, and he had an overpowering impulse towards +the penitential expression by which he was deprecating chastisement. + +Do you know any particulars of your mothers family? he continued. + +No; she never liked to speak of them. She was a very generous, +honorable woman, said Will, almost angrily. + +I do not wish to allege anything against her. Did she never mention +her mother to you at all? + +I have heard her say that she thought her mother did not know the +reason of her running away. She said poor mother in a pitying tone. + +That mother became my wife, said Bulstrode, and then paused a moment +before he added, you have a claim on me, Mr. Ladislaw: as I said +before, not a legal claim, but one which my conscience recognizes. I +was enriched by that marriagea result which would probably not have +taken placecertainly not to the same extentif your grandmother could +have discovered her daughter. That daughter, I gather, is no longer +living! + +No, said Will, feeling suspicion and repugnance rising so strongly +within him, that without quite knowing what he did, he took his hat +from the floor and stood up. The impulse within him was to reject the +disclosed connection. + +Pray be seated, Mr. Ladislaw, said Bulstrode, anxiously. Doubtless +you are startled by the suddenness of this discovery. But I entreat +your patience with one who is already bowed down by inward trial. + +Will reseated himself, feeling some pity which was half contempt for +this voluntary self-abasement of an elderly man. + +It is my wish, Mr. Ladislaw, to make amends for the deprivation which +befell your mother. I know that you are without fortune, and I wish to +supply you adequately from a store which would have probably already +been yours had your grandmother been certain of your mothers existence +and been able to find her. + +Mr. Bulstrode paused. He felt that he was performing a striking piece +of scrupulosity in the judgment of his auditor, and a penitential act +in the eyes of God. He had no clew to the state of Will Ladislaws +mind, smarting as it was from the clear hints of Raffles, and with its +natural quickness in construction stimulated by the expectation of +discoveries which he would have been glad to conjure back into +darkness. Will made no answer for several moments, till Mr. Bulstrode, +who at the end of his speech had cast his eyes on the floor, now raised +them with an examining glance, which Will met fully, saying + +I suppose you did know of my mothers existence, and knew where she +might have been found. + +Bulstrode shrankthere was a visible quivering in his face and hands. +He was totally unprepared to have his advances met in this way, or to +find himself urged into more revelation than he had beforehand set down +as needful. But at that moment he dared not tell a lie, and he felt +suddenly uncertain of his ground which he had trodden with some +confidence before. + +I will not deny that you conjecture rightly, he answered, with a +faltering in his tone. And I wish to make atonement to you as the one +still remaining who has suffered a loss through me. You enter, I trust, +into my purpose, Mr. Ladislaw, which has a reference to higher than +merely human claims, and as I have already said, is entirely +independent of any legal compulsion. I am ready to narrow my own +resources and the prospects of my family by binding myself to allow you +five hundred pounds yearly during my life, and to leave you a +proportional capital at my deathnay, to do still more, if more should +be definitely necessary to any laudable project on your part. Mr. +Bulstrode had gone on to particulars in the expectation that these +would work strongly on Ladislaw, and merge other feelings in grateful +acceptance. + +But Will was looking as stubborn as possible, with his lip pouting and +his fingers in his side-pockets. He was not in the least touched, and +said firmly, + +Before I make any reply to your proposition, Mr. Bulstrode, I must beg +you to answer a question or two. Were you connected with the business +by which that fortune you speak of was originally made? + +Mr. Bulstrodes thought was, Raffles has told him. How could he +refuse to answer when he had volunteered what drew forth the question? +He answered, Yes. + +And was that businessor was it nota thoroughly dishonorable onenay, +one that, if its nature had been made public, might have ranked those +concerned in it with thieves and convicts? + +Wills tone had a cutting bitterness: he was moved to put his question +as nakedly as he could. + +Bulstrode reddened with irrepressible anger. He had been prepared for a +scene of self-abasement, but his intense pride and his habit of +supremacy overpowered penitence, and even dread, when this young man, +whom he had meant to benefit, turned on him with the air of a judge. + +The business was established before I became connected with it, sir; +nor is it for you to institute an inquiry of that kind, he answered, +not raising his voice, but speaking with quick defiantness. + +Yes, it is, said Will, starting up again with his hat in his hand. +It is eminently mine to ask such questions, when I have to decide +whether I will have transactions with you and accept your money. My +unblemished honor is important to me. It is important to me to have no +stain on my birth and connections. And now I find there is a stain +which I cant help. My mother felt it, and tried to keep as clear of it +as she could, and so will I. You shall keep your ill-gotten money. If I +had any fortune of my own, I would willingly pay it to any one who +could disprove what you have told me. What I have to thank you for is +that you kept the money till now, when I can refuse it. It ought to lie +with a mans self that he is a gentleman. Good-night, sir. + +Bulstrode was going to speak, but Will, with determined quickness, was +out of the room in an instant, and in another the hall-door had closed +behind him. He was too strongly possessed with passionate rebellion +against this inherited blot which had been thrust on his knowledge to +reflect at present whether he had not been too hard on Bulstrodetoo +arrogantly merciless towards a man of sixty, who was making efforts at +retrieval when time had rendered them vain. + +No third person listening could have thoroughly understood the +impetuosity of Wills repulse or the bitterness of his words. No one +but himself then knew how everything connected with the sentiment of +his own dignity had an immediate bearing for him on his relation to +Dorothea and to Mr. Casaubons treatment of him. And in the rush of +impulses by which he flung back that offer of Bulstrodes there was +mingled the sense that it would have been impossible for him ever to +tell Dorothea that he had accepted it. + +As for Bulstrodewhen Will was gone he suffered a violent reaction, and +wept like a woman. It was the first time he had encountered an open +expression of scorn from any man higher than Raffles; and with that +scorn hurrying like venom through his system, there was no sensibility +left to consolations. But the relief of weeping had to be checked. His +wife and daughters soon came home from hearing the address of an +Oriental missionary, and were full of regret that papa had not heard, +in the first instance, the interesting things which they tried to +repeat to him. + +Perhaps, through all other hidden thoughts, the one that breathed most +comfort was, that Will Ladislaw at least was not likely to publish what +had taken place that evening. + + + + +CHAPTER LXII. + +He was a squyer of lowe degre, +That loved the kings daughter of Hungrie. +_Old Romance_. + + +Will Ladislaws mind was now wholly bent on seeing Dorothea again, and +forthwith quitting Middlemarch. The morning after his agitating scene +with Bulstrode he wrote a brief letter to her, saying that various +causes had detained him in the neighborhood longer than he had +expected, and asking her permission to call again at Lowick at some +hour which she would mention on the earliest possible day, he being +anxious to depart, but unwilling to do so until she had granted him an +interview. He left the letter at the office, ordering the messenger to +carry it to Lowick Manor, and wait for an answer. + +Ladislaw felt the awkwardness of asking for more last words. His former +farewell had been made in the hearing of Sir James Chettam, and had +been announced as final even to the butler. It is certainly trying to a +mans dignity to reappear when he is not expected to do so: a first +farewell has pathos in it, but to come back for a second lends an +opening to comedy, and it was possible even that there might be bitter +sneers afloat about Wills motives for lingering. Still it was on the +whole more satisfactory to his feeling to take the directest means of +seeing Dorothea, than to use any device which might give an air of +chance to a meeting of which he wished her to understand that it was +what he earnestly sought. When he had parted from her before, he had +been in ignorance of facts which gave a new aspect to the relation +between them, and made a more absolute severance than he had then +believed in. He knew nothing of Dorotheas private fortune, and being +little used to reflect on such matters, took it for granted that +according to Mr. Casaubons arrangement marriage to him, Will Ladislaw, +would mean that she consented to be penniless. That was not what he +could wish for even in his secret heart, or even if she had been ready +to meet such hard contrast for his sake. And then, too, there was the +fresh smart of that disclosure about his mothers family, which if +known would be an added reason why Dorotheas friends should look down +upon him as utterly below her. The secret hope that after some years he +might come back with the sense that he had at least a personal value +equal to her wealth, seemed now the dreamy continuation of a dream. +This change would surely justify him in asking Dorothea to receive him +once more. + +But Dorothea on that morning was not at home to receive Wills note. In +consequence of a letter from her uncle announcing his intention to be +at home in a week, she had driven first to Freshitt to carry the news, +meaning to go on to the Grange to deliver some orders with which her +uncle had intrusted herthinking, as he said, a little mental +occupation of this sort good for a widow. + +If Will Ladislaw could have overheard some of the talk at Freshitt that +morning, he would have felt all his suppositions confirmed as to the +readiness of certain people to sneer at his lingering in the +neighborhood. Sir James, indeed, though much relieved concerning +Dorothea, had been on the watch to learn Ladislaws movements, and had +an instructed informant in Mr. Standish, who was necessarily in his +confidence on this matter. That Ladislaw had stayed in Middlemarch +nearly two months after he had declared that he was going immediately, +was a fact to embitter Sir Jamess suspicions, or at least to justify +his aversion to a young fellow whom he represented to himself as +slight, volatile, and likely enough to show such recklessness as +naturally went along with a position unriveted by family ties or a +strict profession. But he had just heard something from Standish which, +while it justified these surmises about Will, offered a means of +nullifying all danger with regard to Dorothea. + +Unwonted circumstances may make us all rather unlike ourselves: there +are conditions under which the most majestic person is obliged to +sneeze, and our emotions are liable to be acted on in the same +incongruous manner. Good Sir James was this morning so far unlike +himself that he was irritably anxious to say something to Dorothea on a +subject which he usually avoided as if it had been a matter of shame to +them both. He could not use Celia as a medium, because he did not +choose that she should know the kind of gossip he had in his mind; and +before Dorothea happened to arrive he had been trying to imagine how, +with his shyness and unready tongue, he could ever manage to introduce +his communication. Her unexpected presence brought him to utter +hopelessness in his own power of saying anything unpleasant; but +desperation suggested a resource; he sent the groom on an unsaddled +horse across the park with a pencilled note to Mrs. Cadwallader, who +already knew the gossip, and would think it no compromise of herself to +repeat it as often as required. + +Dorothea was detained on the good pretext that Mr. Garth, whom she +wanted to see, was expected at the hall within the hour, and she was +still talking to Caleb on the gravel when Sir James, on the watch for +the rectors wife, saw her coming and met her with the needful hints. + +Enough! I understand,said Mrs. Cadwallader. You shall be innocent. +I am such a blackamoor that I cannot smirch myself. + +I dont mean that its of any consequence, said Sir James, disliking +that Mrs. Cadwallader should understand too much. Only it is desirable +that Dorothea should know there are reasons why she should not receive +him again; and I really cant say so to her. It will come lightly from +you. + +It came very lightly indeed. When Dorothea quitted Caleb and turned to +meet them, it appeared that Mrs. Cadwallader had stepped across the +park by the merest chance in the world, just to chat with Celia in a +matronly way about the baby. And so Mr. Brooke was coming back? +Delightful!coming back, it was to be hoped, quite cured of +Parliamentary fever and pioneering. Apropos of the Pioneersomebody +had prophesied that it would soon be like a dying dolphin, and turn all +colors for want of knowing how to help itself, because Mr. Brookes +protege, the brilliant young Ladislaw, was gone or going. Had Sir James +heard that? + +The three were walking along the gravel slowly, and Sir James, turning +aside to whip a shrub, said he had heard something of that sort. + +All false! said Mrs. Cadwallader. He is not gone, or going, +apparently; the Pioneer keeps its color, and Mr. Orlando Ladislaw is +making a sad dark-blue scandal by warbling continually with your Mr. +Lydgates wife, who they tell me is as pretty as pretty can be. It +seems nobody ever goes into the house without finding this young +gentleman lying on the rug or warbling at the piano. But the people in +manufacturing towns are always disreputable. + +You began by saying that one report was false, Mrs. Cadwallader, and I +believe this is false too, said Dorothea, with indignant energy; at +least, I feel sure it is a misrepresentation. I will not hear any evil +spoken of Mr. Ladislaw; he has already suffered too much injustice. + +Dorothea when thoroughly moved cared little what any one thought of her +feelings; and even if she had been able to reflect, she would have held +it petty to keep silence at injurious words about Will from fear of +being herself misunderstood. Her face was flushed and her lip trembled. + +Sir James, glancing at her, repented of his stratagem; but Mrs. +Cadwallader, equal to all occasions, spread the palms of her hands +outward and saidHeaven grant it, my dear!I mean that all bad tales +about anybody may be false. But it is a pity that young Lydgate should +have married one of these Middlemarch girls. Considering hes a son of +somebody, he might have got a woman with good blood in her veins, and +not too young, who would have put up with his profession. Theres Clara +Harfager, for instance, whose friends dont know what to do with her; +and she has a portion. Then we might have had her among us. +However!its no use being wise for other people. Where is Celia? Pray +let us go in. + +I am going on immediately to Tipton, said Dorothea, rather haughtily. +Good-by. + +Sir James could say nothing as he accompanied her to the carriage. He +was altogether discontented with the result of a contrivance which had +cost him some secret humiliation beforehand. + +Dorothea drove along between the berried hedgerows and the shorn +corn-fields, not seeing or hearing anything around. The tears came and +rolled down her cheeks, but she did not know it. The world, it seemed, +was turning ugly and hateful, and there was no place for her +trustfulness. It is not trueit is not true! was the voice within her +that she listened to; but all the while a remembrance to which there +had always clung a vague uneasiness would thrust itself on her +attentionthe remembrance of that day when she had found Will Ladislaw +with Mrs. Lydgate, and had heard his voice accompanied by the piano. + +He said he would never do anything that I disapprovedI wish I could +have told him that I disapproved of that, said poor Dorothea, +inwardly, feeling a strange alternation between anger with Will and the +passionate defence of him. They all try to blacken him before me; but +I will care for no pain, if he is not to blame. I always believed he +was good.These were her last thoughts before she felt that the +carriage was passing under the archway of the lodge-gate at the Grange, +when she hurriedly pressed her handkerchief to her face and began to +think of her errands. The coachman begged leave to take out the horses +for half an hour as there was something wrong with a shoe; and +Dorothea, having the sense that she was going to rest, took off her +gloves and bonnet, while she was leaning against a statue in the +entrance-hall, and talking to the housekeeper. At last she said + +I must stay here a little, Mrs. Kell. I will go into the library and +write you some memoranda from my uncles letter, if you will open the +shutters for me. + +The shutters are open, madam, said Mrs. Kell, following Dorothea, who +had walked along as she spoke. Mr. Ladislaw is there, looking for +something. + +(Will had come to fetch a portfolio of his own sketches which he had +missed in the act of packing his movables, and did not choose to leave +behind.) + +Dorotheas heart seemed to turn over as if it had had a blow, but she +was not perceptibly checked: in truth, the sense that Will was there +was for the moment all-satisfying to her, like the sight of something +precious that one has lost. When she reached the door she said to Mrs. +Kell + +Go in first, and tell him that I am here. + +Will had found his portfolio, and had laid it on the table at the far +end of the room, to turn over the sketches and please himself by +looking at the memorable piece of art which had a relation to nature +too mysterious for Dorothea. He was smiling at it still, and shaking +the sketches into order with the thought that he might find a letter +from her awaiting him at Middlemarch, when Mrs. Kell close to his elbow +said + +Mrs. Casaubon is coming in, sir. + +Will turned round quickly, and the next moment Dorothea was entering. +As Mrs. Kell closed the door behind her they met: each was looking at +the other, and consciousness was overflowed by something that +suppressed utterance. It was not confusion that kept them silent, for +they both felt that parting was near, and there is no shamefacedness in +a sad parting. + +She moved automatically towards her uncles chair against the +writing-table, and Will, after drawing it out a little for her, went a +few paces off and stood opposite to her. + +Pray sit down, said Dorothea, crossing her hands on her lap; I am +very glad you were here. Will thought that her face looked just as it +did when she first shook hands with him in Rome; for her widows cap, +fixed in her bonnet, had gone off with it, and he could see that she +had lately been shedding tears. But the mixture of anger in her +agitation had vanished at the sight of him; she had been used, when +they were face to face, always to feel confidence and the happy freedom +which comes with mutual understanding, and how could other peoples +words hinder that effect on a sudden? Let the music which can take +possession of our frame and fill the air with joy for us, sound once +morewhat does it signify that we heard it found fault with in its +absence? + +I have sent a letter to Lowick Manor to-day, asking leave to see you, +said Will, seating himself opposite to her. I am going away +immediately, and I could not go without speaking to you again. + +I thought we had parted when you came to Lowick many weeks agoyou +thought you were going then, said Dorothea, her voice trembling a +little. + +Yes; but I was in ignorance then of things which I know nowthings +which have altered my feelings about the future. When I saw you before, +I was dreaming that I might come back some day. I dont think I ever +shallnow. Will paused here. + +You wished me to know the reasons? said Dorothea, timidly. + +Yes, said Will, impetuously, shaking his head backward, and looking +away from her with irritation in his face. Of course I must wish it. I +have been grossly insulted in your eyes and in the eyes of others. +There has been a mean implication against my character. I wish you to +know that under no circumstances would I have lowered myself byunder +no circumstances would I have given men the chance of saying that I +sought money under the pretext of seekingsomething else. There was no +need of other safeguard against methe safeguard of wealth was enough. + +Will rose from his chair with the last word and wenthe hardly knew +where; but it was to the projecting window nearest him, which had been +open as now about the same season a year ago, when he and Dorothea had +stood within it and talked together. Her whole heart was going out at +this moment in sympathy with Wills indignation: she only wanted to +convince him that she had never done him injustice, and he seemed to +have turned away from her as if she too had been part of the unfriendly +world. + +It would be very unkind of you to suppose that I ever attributed any +meanness to you, she began. Then in her ardent way, wanting to plead +with him, she moved from her chair and went in front of him to her old +place in the window, saying, Do you suppose that I ever disbelieved in +you? + +When Will saw her there, he gave a start and moved backward out of the +window, without meeting her glance. Dorothea was hurt by this movement +following up the previous anger of his tone. She was ready to say that +it was as hard on her as on him, and that she was helpless; but those +strange particulars of their relation which neither of them could +explicitly mention kept her always in dread of saying too much. At this +moment she had no belief that Will would in any case have wanted to +marry her, and she feared using words which might imply such a belief. +She only said earnestly, recurring to his last word + +I am sure no safeguard was ever needed against you. + +Will did not answer. In the stormy fluctuation of his feelings these +words of hers seemed to him cruelly neutral, and he looked pale and +miserable after his angry outburst. He went to the table and fastened +up his portfolio, while Dorothea looked at him from the distance. They +were wasting these last moments together in wretched silence. What +could he say, since what had got obstinately uppermost in his mind was +the passionate love for her which he forbade himself to utter? What +could she say, since she might offer him no helpsince she was forced +to keep the money that ought to have been his?since to-day he seemed +not to respond as he used to do to her thorough trust and liking? + +But Will at last turned away from his portfolio and approached the +window again. + +I must go, he said, with that peculiar look of the eyes which +sometimes accompanies bitter feeling, as if they had been tired and +burned with gazing too close at a light. + +What shall you do in life? said Dorothea, timidly. Have your +intentions remained just the same as when we said good-by before? + +Yes, said Will, in a tone that seemed to waive the subject as +uninteresting. I shall work away at the first thing that offers. I +suppose one gets a habit of doing without happiness or hope. + +Oh, what sad words! said Dorothea, with a dangerous tendency to sob. +Then trying to smile, she added, We used to agree that we were alike +in speaking too strongly. + +I have not spoken too strongly now, said Will, leaning back against +the angle of the wall. There are certain things which a man can only +go through once in his life; and he must know some time or other that +the best is over with him. This experience has happened to me while I +am very youngthat is all. What I care more for than I can ever care +for anything else is absolutely forbidden to meI dont mean merely by +being out of my reach, but forbidden me, even if it were within my +reach, by my own pride and honorby everything I respect myself for. Of +course I shall go on living as a man might do who had seen heaven in a +trance. + +Will paused, imagining that it would be impossible for Dorothea to +misunderstand this; indeed he felt that he was contradicting himself +and offending against his self-approval in speaking to her so plainly; +but stillit could not be fairly called wooing a woman to tell her that +he would never woo her. It must be admitted to be a ghostly kind of +wooing. + +But Dorotheas mind was rapidly going over the past with quite another +vision than his. The thought that she herself might be what Will most +cared for did throb through her an instant, but then came doubt: the +memory of the little they had lived through together turned pale and +shrank before the memory which suggested how much fuller might have +been the intercourse between Will and some one else with whom he had +had constant companionship. Everything he had said might refer to that +other relation, and whatever had passed between him and herself was +thoroughly explained by what she had always regarded as their simple +friendship and the cruel obstruction thrust upon it by her husbands +injurious act. Dorothea stood silent, with her eyes cast down dreamily, +while images crowded upon her which left the sickening certainty that +Will was referring to Mrs. Lydgate. But why sickening? He wanted her to +know that here too his conduct should be above suspicion. + +Will was not surprised at her silence. His mind also was tumultuously +busy while he watched her, and he was feeling rather wildly that +something must happen to hinder their partingsome miracle, clearly +nothing in their own deliberate speech. Yet, after all, had she any +love for him?he could not pretend to himself that he would rather +believe her to be without that pain. He could not deny that a secret +longing for the assurance that she loved him was at the root of all his +words. + +Neither of them knew how long they stood in that way. Dorothea was +raising her eyes, and was about to speak, when the door opened and her +footman came to say + +The horses are ready, madam, whenever you like to start. + +Presently, said Dorothea. Then turning to Will, she said, I have +some memoranda to write for the housekeeper. + +I must go, said Will, when the door had closed againadvancing +towards her. The day after to-morrow I shall leave Middlemarch. + +You have acted in every way rightly, said Dorothea, in a low tone, +feeling a pressure at her heart which made it difficult to speak. + +She put out her hand, and Will took it for an instant without speaking, +for her words had seemed to him cruelly cold and unlike herself. Their +eyes met, but there was discontent in his, and in hers there was only +sadness. He turned away and took his portfolio under his arm. + +I have never done you injustice. Please remember me, said Dorothea, +repressing a rising sob. + +Why should you say that? said Will, with irritation. As if I were +not in danger of forgetting everything else. + +He had really a movement of anger against her at that moment, and it +impelled him to go away without pause. It was all one flash to +Dorotheahis last wordshis distant bow to her as he reached the +doorthe sense that he was no longer there. She sank into the chair, +and for a few moments sat like a statue, while images and emotions were +hurrying upon her. Joy came first, in spite of the threatening train +behind itjoy in the impression that it was really herself whom Will +loved and was renouncing, that there was really no other love less +permissible, more blameworthy, which honor was hurrying him away from. +They were parted all the same, butDorothea drew a deep breath and felt +her strength returnshe could think of him unrestrainedly. At that +moment the parting was easy to bear: the first sense of loving and +being loved excluded sorrow. It was as if some hard icy pressure had +melted, and her consciousness had room to expand: her past was come +back to her with larger interpretation. The joy was not the +lessperhaps it was the more complete just thenbecause of the +irrevocable parting; for there was no reproach, no contemptuous wonder +to imagine in any eye or from any lips. He had acted so as to defy +reproach, and make wonder respectful. + +Any one watching her might have seen that there was a fortifying +thought within her. Just as when inventive power is working with glad +ease some small claim on the attention is fully met as if it were only +a cranny opened to the sunlight, it was easy now for Dorothea to write +her memoranda. She spoke her last words to the housekeeper in cheerful +tones, and when she seated herself in the carriage her eyes were bright +and her cheeks blooming under the dismal bonnet. She threw back the +heavy weepers, and looked before her, wondering which road Will had +taken. It was in her nature to be proud that he was blameless, and +through all her feelings there ran this veinI was right to defend +him. + +The coachman was used to drive his grays at a good pace, Mr. Casaubon +being unenjoying and impatient in everything away from his desk, and +wanting to get to the end of all journeys; and Dorothea was now bowled +along quickly. Driving was pleasant, for rain in the night had laid the +dust, and the blue sky looked far off, away from the region of the +great clouds that sailed in masses. The earth looked like a happy place +under the vast heavens, and Dorothea was wishing that she might +overtake Will and see him once more. + +After a turn of the road, there he was with the portfolio under his +arm; but the next moment she was passing him while he raised his hat, +and she felt a pang at being seated there in a sort of exaltation, +leaving him behind. She could not look back at him. It was as if a +crowd of indifferent objects had thrust them asunder, and forced them +along different paths, taking them farther and farther away from each +other, and making it useless to look back. She could no more make any +sign that would seem to say, Need we part? than she could stop the +carriage to wait for him. Nay, what a world of reasons crowded upon her +against any movement of her thought towards a future that might reverse +the decision of this day! + +I only wish I had known beforeI wish he knewthen we could be quite +happy in thinking of each other, though we are forever parted. And if I +could but have given him the money, and made things easier for +him!were the longings that came back the most persistently. And yet, +so heavily did the world weigh on her in spite of her independent +energy, that with this idea of Will as in need of such help and at a +disadvantage with the world, there came always the vision of that +unfittingness of any closer relation between them which lay in the +opinion of every one connected with her. She felt to the full all the +imperativeness of the motives which urged Wills conduct. How could he +dream of her defying the barrier that her husband had placed between +them?how could she ever say to herself that she would defy it? + +Wills certainty as the carriage grew smaller in the distance, had much +more bitterness in it. Very slight matters were enough to gall him in +his sensitive mood, and the sight of Dorothea driving past him while he +felt himself plodding along as a poor devil seeking a position in a +world which in his present temper offered him little that he coveted, +made his conduct seem a mere matter of necessity, and took away the +sustainment of resolve. After all, he had no assurance that she loved +him: could any man pretend that he was simply glad in such a case to +have the suffering all on his own side? + +That evening Will spent with the Lydgates; the next evening he was +gone. + + + + +BOOK VII. +TWO TEMPTATIONS. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIII. + +These little things are great to little man.GOLDSMITH. + + +Have you seen much of your scientific phoenix, Lydgate, lately? said +Mr. Toller at one of his Christmas dinner-parties, speaking to Mr. +Farebrother on his right hand. + +Not much, I am sorry to say, answered the Vicar, accustomed to parry +Mr. Tollers banter about his belief in the new medical light. I am +out of the way and he is too busy. + +Is he? I am glad to hear it, said Dr. Minchin, with mingled suavity +and surprise. + +He gives a great deal of time to the New Hospital, said Mr. +Farebrother, who had his reasons for continuing the subject: I hear of +that from my neighbor, Mrs. Casaubon, who goes there often. She says +Lydgate is indefatigable, and is making a fine thing of Bulstrodes +institution. He is preparing a new ward in case of the cholera coming +to us. + +And preparing theories of treatment to try on the patients, I +suppose, said Mr. Toller. + +Come, Toller, be candid, said Mr. Farebrother. You are too clever +not to see the good of a bold fresh mind in medicine, as well as in +everything else; and as to cholera, I fancy, none of you are very sure +what you ought to do. If a man goes a little too far along a new road, +it is usually himself that he harms more than any one else. + +I am sure you and Wrench ought to be obliged to him, said Dr. +Minchin, looking towards Toller, for he has sent you the cream of +Peacocks patients. + +Lydgate has been living at a great rate for a young beginner, said +Mr. Harry Toller, the brewer. I suppose his relations in the North +back him up. + +I hope so, said Mr. Chichely, else he ought not to have married that +nice girl we were all so fond of. Hang it, one has a grudge against a +man who carries off the prettiest girl in the town. + +Ay, by God! and the best too, said Mr. Standish. + +My friend Vincy didnt half like the marriage, I know that, said Mr. +Chichely. _He_ wouldnt do much. How the relations on the other side +may have come down I cant say. There was an emphatic kind of +reticence in Mr. Chichelys manner of speaking. + +Oh, I shouldnt think Lydgate ever looked to practice for a living, +said Mr. Toller, with a slight touch of sarcasm, and there the subject +was dropped. + +This was not the first time that Mr. Farebrother had heard hints of +Lydgates expenses being obviously too great to be met by his practice, +but he thought it not unlikely that there were resources or +expectations which excused the large outlay at the time of Lydgates +marriage, and which might hinder any bad consequences from the +disappointment in his practice. One evening, when he took the pains to +go to Middlemarch on purpose to have a chat with Lydgate as of old, he +noticed in him an air of excited effort quite unlike his usual easy way +of keeping silence or breaking it with abrupt energy whenever he had +anything to say. Lydgate talked persistently when they were in his +work-room, putting arguments for and against the probability of certain +biological views; but he had none of those definite things to say or to +show which give the waymarks of a patient uninterrupted pursuit, such +as he used himself to insist on, saying that there must be a systole +and diastole in all inquiry, and that a mans mind must be +continually expanding and shrinking between the whole human horizon and +the horizon of an object-glass. That evening he seemed to be talking +widely for the sake of resisting any personal bearing; and before long +they went into the drawing room, where Lydgate, having asked Rosamond +to give them music, sank back in his chair in silence, but with a +strange light in his eyes. He may have been taking an opiate, was a +thought that crossed Mr. Farebrothers mindtic-douloureux perhapsor +medical worries. + +It did not occur to him that Lydgates marriage was not delightful: he +believed, as the rest did, that Rosamond was an amiable, docile +creature, though he had always thought her rather uninterestinga +little too much the pattern-card of the finishing-school; and his +mother could not forgive Rosamond because she never seemed to see that +Henrietta Noble was in the room. However, Lydgate fell in love with +her, said the Vicar to himself, and she must be to his taste. + +Mr. Farebrother was aware that Lydgate was a proud man, but having very +little corresponding fibre in himself, and perhaps too little care +about personal dignity, except the dignity of not being mean or +foolish, he could hardly allow enough for the way in which Lydgate +shrank, as from a burn, from the utterance of any word about his +private affairs. And soon after that conversation at Mr. Tollers, the +Vicar learned something which made him watch the more eagerly for an +opportunity of indirectly letting Lydgate know that if he wanted to +open himself about any difficulty there was a friendly ear ready. + +The opportunity came at Mr. Vincys, where, on New Years Day, there +was a party, to which Mr. Farebrother was irresistibly invited, on the +plea that he must not forsake his old friends on the first new year of +his being a greater man, and Rector as well as Vicar. And this party +was thoroughly friendly: all the ladies of the Farebrother family were +present; the Vincy children all dined at the table, and Fred had +persuaded his mother that if she did not invite Mary Garth, the +Farebrothers would regard it as a slight to themselves, Mary being +their particular friend. Mary came, and Fred was in high spirits, +though his enjoyment was of a checkered kindtriumph that his mother +should see Marys importance with the chief personages in the party +being much streaked with jealousy when Mr. Farebrother sat down by her. +Fred used to be much more easy about his own accomplishments in the +days when he had not begun to dread being bowled out by Farebrother, +and this terror was still before him. Mrs. Vincy, in her fullest +matronly bloom, looked at Marys little figure, rough wavy hair, and +visage quite without lilies and roses, and wondered; trying +unsuccessfully to fancy herself caring about Marys appearance in +wedding clothes, or feeling complacency in grandchildren who would +feature the Garths. However, the party was a merry one, and Mary was +particularly bright; being glad, for Freds sake, that his friends were +getting kinder to her, and being also quite willing that they should +see how much she was valued by others whom they must admit to be +judges. + +Mr. Farebrother noticed that Lydgate seemed bored, and that Mr. Vincy +spoke as little as possible to his son-in-law. Rosamond was perfectly +graceful and calm, and only a subtle observation such as the Vicar had +not been roused to bestow on her would have perceived the total absence +of that interest in her husbands presence which a loving wife is sure +to betray, even if etiquette keeps her aloof from him. When Lydgate was +taking part in the conversation, she never looked towards him any more +than if she had been a sculptured Psyche modelled to look another way: +and when, after being called out for an hour or two, he re-entered the +room, she seemed unconscious of the fact, which eighteen months before +would have had the effect of a numeral before ciphers. In reality, +however, she was intensely aware of Lydgates voice and movements; and +her pretty good-tempered air of unconsciousness was a studied negation +by which she satisfied her inward opposition to him without compromise +of propriety. When the ladies were in the drawing-room after Lydgate +had been called away from the dessert, Mrs. Farebrother, when Rosamond +happened to be near her, saidYou have to give up a great deal of your +husbands society, Mrs. Lydgate. + +Yes, the life of a medical man is very arduous: especially when he is +so devoted to his profession as Mr. Lydgate is, said Rosamond, who was +standing, and moved easily away at the end of this correct little +speech. + +It is dreadfully dull for her when there is no company, said Mrs. +Vincy, who was seated at the old ladys side. I am sure I thought so +when Rosamond was ill, and I was staying with her. You know, Mrs. +Farebrother, ours is a cheerful house. I am of a cheerful disposition +myself, and Mr. Vincy always likes something to be going on. That is +what Rosamond has been used to. Very different from a husband out at +odd hours, and never knowing when he will come home, and of a close, +proud disposition, _I_ thinkindiscreet Mrs. Vincy did lower her tone +slightly with this parenthesis. But Rosamond always had an angel of a +temper; her brothers used very often not to please her, but she was +never the girl to show temper; from a baby she was always as good as +good, and with a complexion beyond anything. But my children are all +good-tempered, thank God. + +This was easily credible to any one looking at Mrs. Vincy as she threw +back her broad cap-strings, and smiled towards her three little girls, +aged from seven to eleven. But in that smiling glance she was obliged +to include Mary Garth, whom the three girls had got into a corner to +make her tell them stories. Mary was just finishing the delicious tale +of Rumpelstiltskin, which she had well by heart, because Letty was +never tired of communicating it to her ignorant elders from a favorite +red volume. Louisa, Mrs. Vincys darling, now ran to her with wide-eyed +serious excitement, crying, Oh mamma, mamma, the little man stamped so +hard on the floor he couldnt get his leg out again! + +Bless you, my cherub! said mamma; you shall tell me all about it +to-morrow. Go and listen! and then, as her eyes followed Louisa back +towards the attractive corner, she thought that if Fred wished her to +invite Mary again she would make no objection, the children being so +pleased with her. + +But presently the corner became still more animated, for Mr. +Farebrother came in, and seating himself behind Louisa, took her on his +lap; whereupon the girls all insisted that he must hear +Rumpelstiltskin, and Mary must tell it over again. He insisted too, and +Mary, without fuss, began again in her neat fashion, with precisely the +same words as before. Fred, who had also seated himself near, would +have felt unmixed triumph in Marys effectiveness if Mr. Farebrother +had not been looking at her with evident admiration, while he +dramatized an intense interest in the tale to please the children. + +You will never care any more about my one-eyed giant, Loo, said Fred +at the end. + +Yes, I shall. Tell about him now, said Louisa. + +Oh, I dare say; I am quite cut out. Ask Mr. Farebrother. + +Yes, added Mary; ask Mr. Farebrother to tell you about the ants +whose beautiful house was knocked down by a giant named Tom, and he +thought they didnt mind because he couldnt hear them cry, or see them +use their pocket-handkerchiefs. + +Please, said Louisa, looking up at the Vicar. + +No, no, I am a grave old parson. If I try to draw a story out of my +bag a sermon comes instead. Shall I preach you a sermon? said he, +putting on his short-sighted glasses, and pursing up his lips. + +Yes, said Louisa, falteringly. + +Let me see, then. Against cakes: how cakes are bad things, especially +if they are sweet and have plums in them. + +Louisa took the affair rather seriously, and got down from the Vicars +knee to go to Fred. + +Ah, I see it will not do to preach on New Years Day, said Mr. +Farebrother, rising and walking away. He had discovered of late that +Fred had become jealous of him, and also that he himself was not losing +his preference for Mary above all other women. + +A delightful young person is Miss Garth, said Mrs. Farebrother, who +had been watching her sons movements. + +Yes, said Mrs. Vincy, obliged to reply, as the old lady turned to her +expectantly. It is a pity she is not better-looking. + +I cannot say that, said Mrs. Farebrother, decisively. I like her +countenance. We must not always ask for beauty, when a good God has +seen fit to make an excellent young woman without it. I put good +manners first, and Miss Garth will know how to conduct herself in any +station. + +The old lady was a little sharp in her tone, having a prospective +reference to Marys becoming her daughter-in-law; for there was this +inconvenience in Marys position with regard to Fred, that it was not +suitable to be made public, and hence the three ladies at Lowick +Parsonage were still hoping that Camden would choose Miss Garth. + +New visitors entered, and the drawing-room was given up to music and +games, while whist-tables were prepared in the quiet room on the other +side of the hall. Mr. Farebrother played a rubber to satisfy his +mother, who regarded her occasional whist as a protest against scandal +and novelty of opinion, in which light even a revoke had its dignity. +But at the end he got Mr. Chichely to take his place, and left the +room. As he crossed the hall, Lydgate had just come in and was taking +off his great-coat. + +You are the man I was going to look for, said the Vicar; and instead +of entering the drawing-room, they walked along the hall and stood +against the fireplace, where the frosty air helped to make a glowing +bank. You see, I can leave the whist-table easily enough, he went on, +smiling at Lydgate, now I dont play for money. I owe that to you, +Mrs. Casaubon says. + +How? said Lydgate, coldly. + +Ah, you didnt mean me to know it; I call that ungenerous reticence. +You should let a man have the pleasure of feeling that you have done +him a good turn. I dont enter into some peoples dislike of being +under an obligation: upon my word, I prefer being under an obligation +to everybody for behaving well to me. + +I cant tell what you mean, said Lydgate, unless it is that I once +spoke of you to Mrs. Casaubon. But I did not think that she would break +her promise not to mention that I had done so, said Lydgate, leaning +his back against the corner of the mantel-piece, and showing no +radiance in his face. + +It was Brooke who let it out, only the other day. He paid me the +compliment of saying that he was very glad I had the living though you +had come across his tactics, and had praised me up as a Ken and a +Tillotson, and that sort of thing, till Mrs. Casaubon would hear of no +one else. + +Oh, Brooke is such a leaky-minded fool, said Lydgate, contemptuously. + +Well, I was glad of the leakiness then. I dont see why you shouldnt +like me to know that you wished to do me a service, my dear fellow. And +you certainly have done me one. Its rather a strong check to ones +self-complacency to find how much of ones right doing depends on not +being in want of money. A man will not be tempted to say the Lords +Prayer backward to please the devil, if he doesnt want the devils +services. I have no need to hang on the smiles of chance now. + +I dont see that theres any money-getting without chance, said +Lydgate; if a man gets it in a profession, its pretty sure to come by +chance. + +Mr. Farebrother thought he could account for this speech, in striking +contrast with Lydgates former way of talking, as the perversity which +will often spring from the moodiness of a man ill at ease in his +affairs. He answered in a tone of good-humored admission + +Ah, theres enormous patience wanted with the way of the world. But it +is the easier for a man to wait patiently when he has friends who love +him, and ask for nothing better than to help him through, so far as it +lies in their power. + +Oh yes, said Lydgate, in a careless tone, changing his attitude and +looking at his watch. People make much more of their difficulties than +they need to do. + +He knew as distinctly as possible that this was an offer of help to +himself from Mr. Farebrother, and he could not bear it. So strangely +determined are we mortals, that, after having been long gratified with +the sense that he had privately done the Vicar a service, the +suggestion that the Vicar discerned his need of a service in return +made him shrink into unconquerable reticence. Besides, behind all +making of such offers what else must come?that he should mention his +case, imply that he wanted specific things. At that moment, suicide +seemed easier. + +Mr. Farebrother was too keen a man not to know the meaning of that +reply, and there was a certain massiveness in Lydgates manner and +tone, corresponding with his physique, which if he repelled your +advances in the first instance seemed to put persuasive devices out of +question. + +What time are you? said the Vicar, devouring his wounded feeling. + +After eleven, said Lydgate. And they went into the drawing-room. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIV. + +1_st Gent_. Where lies the power, there let the blame lie too. + +2_d Gent_. Nay, power is relative; you cannot fright + The coming pest with border fortresses, + Or catch your carp with subtle argument. + All force is twain in one: cause is not cause + Unless effect be there; and actions self + Must needs contain a passive. So command + Exists but with obedience. + + +Even if Lydgate had been inclined to be quite open about his affairs, +he knew that it would have hardly been in Mr. Farebrothers power to +give him the help he immediately wanted. With the years bills coming +in from his tradesmen, with Dovers threatening hold on his furniture, +and with nothing to depend on but slow dribbling payments from patients +who must not be offendedfor the handsome fees he had had from Freshitt +Hall and Lowick Manor had been easily absorbednothing less than a +thousand pounds would have freed him from actual embarrassment, and +left a residue which, according to the favorite phrase of hopefulness +in such circumstances, would have given him time to look about him. + +Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when +fellow-citizens expect to be paid for the trouble and goods they have +smilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightened the pressure of +sordid cares on Lydgates mind that it was hardly possible for him to +think unbrokenly of any other subject, even the most habitual and +soliciting. He was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, +the ardent kindness of his heart, as well as his strong frame, would +always, under tolerably easy conditions, have kept him above the petty +uncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper. But he was now a +prey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances, +but from the second consciousness underlying those annoyances, of +wasted energy and a degrading preoccupation, which was the reverse of +all his former purposes. _This_ is what I am thinking of; and _that_ +is what I might have been thinking of, was the bitter incessant murmur +within him, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience. + +Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by general +discontent with the universe as a trap of dulness into which their +great souls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendous self +and an insignificant world may have its consolations. Lydgates +discontent was much harder to bear: it was the sense that there was a +grand existence in thought and effective action lying around him, while +his self was being narrowed into the miserable isolation of egoistic +fears, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears. His +troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid, and beneath the +attention of lofty persons who can know nothing of debt except on a +magnificent scale. Doubtless they were sordid; and for the majority, +who are not lofty, there is no escape from sordidness but by being free +from money-craving, with all its base hopes and temptations, its +watching for death, its hinted requests, its horse-dealers desire to +make bad work pass for good, its seeking for function which ought to be +anothers, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the shape of a wide +calamity. + +It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neck +beneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody state +which was continually widening Rosamonds alienation from him. After +the first disclosure about the bill of sale, he had made many efforts +to draw her into sympathy with him about possible measures for +narrowing their expenses, and with the threatening approach of +Christmas his propositions grew more and more definite. We two can do +with only one servant, and live on very little, he said, and I shall +manage with one horse. For Lydgate, as we have seen, had begun to +reason, with a more distinct vision, about the expenses of living, and +any share of pride he had given to appearances of that sort was meagre +compared with the pride which made him revolt from exposure as a +debtor, or from asking men to help him with their money. + +Of course you can dismiss the other two servants, if you like, said +Rosamond; but I should have thought it would be very injurious to your +position for us to live in a poor way. You must expect your practice to +be lowered. + +My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have begun too +expensively. Peacock, you know, lived in a much smaller house than +this. It is my fault: I ought to have known better, and I deserve a +thrashingif there were anybody who had a right to give it mefor +bringing you into the necessity of living in a poorer way than you have +been used to. But we married because we loved each other, I suppose. +And that may help us to pull along till things get better. Come, dear, +put down that work and come to me. + +He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but he dreaded a +future without affection, and was determined to resist the oncoming of +division between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he took her on his +knee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him. The poor +thing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking, and +Lydgate was part of that world. But he held her waist with one hand and +laid the other gently on both of hers; for this rather abrupt man had +much tenderness in his manners towards women, seeming to have always +present in his imagination the weakness of their frames and the +delicate poise of their health both in body and mind. And he began +again to speak persuasively. + +I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderful +what an amount of money slips away in our housekeeping. I suppose the +servants are careless, and we have had a great many people coming. But +there must be many in our rank who manage with much less: they must do +with commoner things, I suppose, and look after the scraps. It seems, +money goes but a little way in these matters, for Wrench has everything +as plain as possible, and he has a very large practice. + +Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do! said Rosamond, with a +little turn of her neck. But I have heard you express your disgust at +that way of living. + +Yes, they have bad taste in everythingthey make economy look ugly. We +neednt do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses, although Wrench +has a capital practice. + +Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacock had. You +should be more careful not to offend people, and you should send out +medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and you got +several good houses. It cannot answer to be eccentric; you should think +what will be generally liked, said Rosamond, in a decided little tone +of admonition. + +Lydgates anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towards feminine +weakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallowness of a +waternixies soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. But he +controlled himself, and only said, with a touch of despotic firmness + +What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge. That is +not the question between us. It is enough for you to know that our +income is likely to be a very narrow onehardly four hundred, perhaps +less, for a long time to come, and we must try to re-arrange our lives +in accordance with that fact. + +Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, and then +said, My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salary for the time you +give to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work for +nothing. + +It was understood from the beginning that my services would be +gratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion. I have +pointed out what is the only probability, said Lydgate, impatiently. +Then checking himself, he went on more quietly + +I think I see one resource which would free us from a good deal of the +present difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to be +married to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often that a +good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would be +glad to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and they +would be willing to pay handsomely for the lease. I can employ Trumbull +to speak to Plymdale about it. + +Rosamond left her husbands knee and walked slowly to the other end of +the room; when she turned round and walked towards him it was evident +that the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lip and +clasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate was +wretchedshaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanly to +vent the anger just now. + +I am very sorry, Rosamond; I know this is painful. + +I thought, at least, when I had borne to send the plate back and have +that man taking an inventory of the furnitureI should have thought +_that_ would suffice. + +I explained it to you at the time, dear. That was only a security and +behind that security there is a debt. And that debt must be paid within +the next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold. If young +Plymdale will take our house and most of our furniture, we shall be +able to pay that debt, and some others too, and we shall be quit of a +place too expensive for us. We might take a smaller house: Trumbull, I +know, has a very decent one to let at thirty pounds a-year, and this is +ninety. Lydgate uttered this speech in the curt hammering way with +which we usually try to nail down a vague mind to imperative facts. +Tears rolled silently down Rosamonds cheeks; she just pressed her +handkerchief against them, and stood looking at the large vase on the +mantel-piece. It was a moment of more intense bitterness than she had +ever felt before. At last she said, without hurry and with careful +emphasis + +I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way. + +Like it? burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting his +hands in his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; its not a +question of liking. Of course, I dont like it; its the only thing I +can do. He wheeled round there, and turned towards her. + +I should have thought there were many other means than that, said +Rosamond. Let us have a sale and leave Middlemarch altogether. + +To do what? What is the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarch to go +where I have none? We should be just as penniless elsewhere as we are +here, said Lydgate still more angrily. + +If we are to be in that position it will be entirely your own doing, +Tertius, said Rosamond, turning round to speak with the fullest +conviction. You will not behave as you ought to do to your own family. +You offended Captain Lydgate. Sir Godwin was very kind to me when we +were at Quallingham, and I am sure if you showed proper regard to him +and told him your affairs, he would do anything for you. But rather +than that, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Ned +Plymdale. + +There was something like fierceness in Lydgates eyes, as he answered +with new violence, Well, then, if you will have it so, I do like it. I +admit that I like it better than making a fool of myself by going to +beg where its of no use. Understand then, that it is what I _like to +do._ + +There was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalent to the +clutch of his strong hand on Rosamonds delicate arm. But for all that, +his will was not a whit stronger than hers. She immediately walked out +of the room in silence, but with an intense determination to hinder +what Lydgate liked to do. + +He went out of the house, but as his blood cooled he felt that the +chief result of the discussion was a deposit of dread within him at the +idea of opening with his wife in future subjects which might again urge +him to violent speech. It was as if a fracture in delicate crystal had +begun, and he was afraid of any movement that might make it fatal. His +marriage would be a mere piece of bitter irony if they could not go on +loving each other. He had long ago made up his mind to what he thought +was her negative characterher want of sensibility, which showed itself +in disregard both of his specific wishes and of his general aims. The +first great disappointment had been borne: the tender devotedness and +docile adoration of the ideal wife must be renounced, and life must be +taken up on a lower stage of expectation, as it is by men who have lost +their limbs. But the real wife had not only her claims, she had still a +hold on his heart, and it was his intense desire that the hold should +remain strong. In marriage, the certainty, She will never love me +much, is easier to bear than the fear, I shall love her no more. +Hence, after that outburst, his inward effort was entirely to excuse +her, and to blame the hard circumstances which were partly his fault. +He tried that evening, by petting her, to heal the wound he had made in +the morning, and it was not in Rosamonds nature to be repellent or +sulky; indeed, she welcomed the signs that her husband loved her and +was under control. But this was something quite distinct from loving +_him_. Lydgate would not have chosen soon to recur to the plan of +parting with the house; he was resolved to carry it out, and say as +little more about it as possible. But Rosamond herself touched on it at +breakfast by saying, mildly + +Have you spoken to Trumbull yet? + +No, said Lydgate, but I shall call on him as I go by this morning. +No time must be lost. He took Rosamonds question as a sign that she +withdrew her inward opposition, and kissed her head caressingly when he +got up to go away. + +As soon as it was late enough to make a call, Rosamond went to Mrs. +Plymdale, Mr. Neds mother, and entered with pretty congratulations +into the subject of the coming marriage. Mrs. Plymdales maternal view +was, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of +her own folly; and feeling the advantages to be at present all on the +side of her son, was too kind a woman not to behave graciously. + +Yes, Ned is most happy, I must say. And Sophy Toller is all I could +desire in a daughter-in-law. Of course her father is able to do +something handsome for herthat is only what would be expected with a +brewery like his. And the connection is everything we should desire. +But that is not what I look at. She is such a very nice girlno airs, +no pretensions, though on a level with the first. I dont mean with the +titled aristocracy. I see very little good in people aiming out of +their own sphere. I mean that Sophy is equal to the best in the town, +and she is contented with that. + +I have always thought her very agreeable, said Rosamond. + +I look upon it as a reward for Ned, who never held his head too high, +that he should have got into the very best connection, continued Mrs. +Plymdale, her native sharpness softened by a fervid sense that she was +taking a correct view. And such particular people as the Tollers are, +they might have objected because some of our friends are not theirs. It +is well known that your aunt Bulstrode and I have been intimate from +our youth, and Mr. Plymdale has been always on Mr. Bulstrodes side. +And I myself prefer serious opinions. But the Tollers have welcomed Ned +all the same. + +I am sure he is a very deserving, well-principled young man, said +Rosamond, with a neat air of patronage in return for Mrs. Plymdales +wholesome corrections. + +Oh, he has not the style of a captain in the army, or that sort of +carriage as if everybody was beneath him, or that showy kind of +talking, and singing, and intellectual talent. But I am thankful he has +not. It is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter. + +Oh dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness, said +Rosamond. I think there is every prospect of their being a happy +couple. What house will they take? + +Oh, as for that, they must put up with what they can get. They have +been looking at the house in St. Peters Place, next to Mr. Hackbutts; +it belongs to him, and he is putting it nicely in repair. I suppose +they are not likely to hear of a better. Indeed, I think Ned will +decide the matter to-day. + +I should think it is a nice house; I like St. Peters Place. + +Well, it is near the Church, and a genteel situation. But the windows +are narrow, and it is all ups and downs. You dont happen to know of +any other that would be at liberty? said Mrs. Plymdale, fixing her +round black eyes on Rosamond with the animation of a sudden thought in +them. + +Oh no; I hear so little of those things. + +Rosamond had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to +pay her visit; she had simply meant to gather any information which +would help her to avert the parting with her own house under +circumstances thoroughly disagreeable to her. As to the untruth in her +reply, she no more reflected on it than she did on the untruth there +was in her saying that appearances had very little to do with +happiness. Her object, she was convinced, was thoroughly justifiable: +it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and there was a plan in +her mind which, when she had carried it out fully, would prove how very +false a step it would have been for him to have descended from his +position. + +She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbulls office, meaning to call +there. It was the first time in her life that Rosamond had thought of +doing anything in the form of business, but she felt equal to the +occasion. That she should be obliged to do what she intensely disliked, +was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active invention. Here +was a case in which it could not be enough simply to disobey and be +serenely, placidly obstinate: she must act according to her judgment, +and she said to herself that her judgment was rightindeed, if it had +not been, she would not have wished to act on it. + +Mr. Trumbull was in the back-room of his office, and received Rosamond +with his finest manners, not only because he had much sensibility to +her charms, but because the good-natured fibre in him was stirred by +his certainty that Lydgate was in difficulties, and that this +uncommonly pretty womanthis young lady with the highest personal +attractionswas likely to feel the pinch of troubleto find herself +involved in circumstances beyond her control. He begged her to do him +the honor to take a seat, and stood before her trimming and comporting +himself with an eager solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent. +Rosamonds first question was, whether her husband had called on Mr. +Trumbull that morning, to speak about disposing of their house. + +Yes, maam, yes, he did; he did so, said the good auctioneer, trying +to throw something soothing into his iteration. I was about to fulfil +his order, if possible, this afternoon. He wished me not to +procrastinate. + +I called to tell you not to go any further, Mr. Trumbull; and I beg of +you not to mention what has been said on the subject. Will you oblige +me? + +Certainly I will, Mrs. Lydgate, certainly. Confidence is sacred with +me on business or any other topic. I am then to consider the commission +withdrawn? said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long ends of his blue +cravat with both hands, and looking at Rosamond deferentially. + +Yes, if you please. I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a housethe +one in St. Peters Place next to Mr. Hackbutts. Mr. Lydgate would be +annoyed that his orders should be fulfilled uselessly. And besides +that, there are other circumstances which render the proposal +unnecessary. + +Very good, Mrs. Lydgate, very good. I am at your commands, whenever +you require any service of me, said Mr. Trumbull, who felt pleasure in +conjecturing that some new resources had been opened. Rely on me, I +beg. The affair shall go no further. + +That evening Lydgate was a little comforted by observing that Rosamond +was more lively than she had usually been of late, and even seemed +interested in doing what would please him without being asked. He +thought, If she will be happy and I can rub through, what does it all +signify? It is only a narrow swamp that we have to pass in a long +journey. If I can get my mind clear again, I shall do. + +He was so much cheered that he began to search for an account of +experiments which he had long ago meant to look up, and had neglected +out of that creeping self-despair which comes in the train of petty +anxieties. He felt again some of the old delightful absorption in a +far-reaching inquiry, while Rosamond played the quiet music which was +as helpful to his meditation as the plash of an oar on the evening +lake. It was rather late; he had pushed away all the books, and was +looking at the fire with his hands clasped behind his head in +forgetfulness of everything except the construction of a new +controlling experiment, when Rosamond, who had left the piano and was +leaning back in her chair watching him, said + +Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house already. + +Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked up in silence for a moment, like a +man who has been disturbed in his sleep. Then flushing with an +unpleasant consciousness, he asked + +How do you know? + +I called at Mrs. Plymdales this morning, and she told me that he had +taken the house in St. Peters Place, next to Mr. Hackbutts. + +Lydgate was silent. He drew his hands from behind his head and pressed +them against the hair which was hanging, as it was apt to do, in a mass +on his forehead, while he rested his elbows on his knees. He was +feeling bitter disappointment, as if he had opened a door out of a +suffocating place and had found it walled up; but he also felt sure +that Rosamond was pleased with the cause of his disappointment. He +preferred not looking at her and not speaking, until he had got over +the first spasm of vexation. After all, he said in his bitterness, what +can a woman care about so much as house and furniture? a husband +without them is an absurdity. When he looked up and pushed his hair +aside, his dark eyes had a miserable blank non-expectance of sympathy +in them, but he only said, coolly + +Perhaps some one else may turn up. I told Trumbull to be on the +look-out if he failed with Plymdale. + +Rosamond made no remark. She trusted to the chance that nothing more +would pass between her husband and the auctioneer until some issue +should have justified her interference; at any rate, she had hindered +the event which she immediately dreaded. After a pause, she said + +How much money is it that those disagreeable people want? + +What disagreeable people? + +Those who took the listand the others. I mean, how much money would +satisfy them so that you need not be troubled any more? + +Lydgate surveyed her for a moment, as if he were looking for symptoms, +and then said, Oh, if I could have got six hundred from Plymdale for +furniture and as premium, I might have managed. I could have paid off +Dover, and given enough on account to the others to make them wait +patiently, if we contracted our expenses. + +But I mean how much should you want if we stayed in this house? + +More than I am likely to get anywhere, said Lydgate, with rather a +grating sarcasm in his tone. It angered him to perceive that Rosamonds +mind was wandering over impracticable wishes instead of facing possible +efforts. + +Why should you not mention the sum? said Rosamond, with a mild +indication that she did not like his manners. + +Well, said Lydgate in a guessing tone, it would take at least a +thousand to set me at ease. But, he added, incisively, I have to +consider what I shall do without it, not with it. + +Rosamond said no more. + +But the next day she carried out her plan of writing to Sir Godwin +Lydgate. Since the Captains visit, she had received a letter from him, +and also one from Mrs. Mengan, his married sister, condoling with her +on the loss of her baby, and expressing vaguely the hope that they +should see her again at Quallingham. Lydgate had told her that this +politeness meant nothing; but she was secretly convinced that any +backwardness in Lydgates family towards him was due to his cold and +contemptuous behavior, and she had answered the letters in her most +charming manner, feeling some confidence that a specific invitation +would follow. But there had been total silence. The Captain evidently +was not a great penman, and Rosamond reflected that the sisters might +have been abroad. However, the season was come for thinking of friends +at home, and at any rate Sir Godwin, who had chucked her under the +chin, and pronounced her to be like the celebrated beauty, Mrs. Croly, +who had made a conquest of him in 1790, would be touched by any appeal +from her, and would find it pleasant for her sake to behave as he ought +to do towards his nephew. Rosamond was naively convinced of what an old +gentleman ought to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance. And she +wrote what she considered the most judicious letter possibleone which +would strike Sir Godwin as a proof of her excellent sensepointing out +how desirable it was that Tertius should quit such a place as +Middlemarch for one more fitted to his talents, how the unpleasant +character of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and +how in consequence he was in money difficulties, from which it would +require a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him. She did not say +that Tertius was unaware of her intention to write; for she had the +idea that his supposed sanction of her letter would be in accordance +with what she did say of his great regard for his uncle Godwin as the +relative who had always been his best friend. Such was the force of +Poor Rosamonds tactics now she applied them to affairs. + +This had happened before the party on New Years Day, and no answer had +yet come from Sir Godwin. But on the morning of that day Lydgate had to +learn that Rosamond had revoked his order to Borthrop Trumbull. Feeling +it necessary that she should be gradually accustomed to the idea of +their quitting the house in Lowick Gate, he overcame his reluctance to +speak to her again on the subject, and when they were breakfasting +said + +I shall try to see Trumbull this morning, and tell him to advertise +the house in the Pioneer and the Trumpet. If the thing were +advertised, some one might be inclined to take it who would not +otherwise have thought of a change. In these country places many people +go on in their old houses when their families are too large for them, +for want of knowing where they can find another. And Trumbull seems to +have got no bite at all. + +Rosamond knew that the inevitable moment was come. I ordered Trumbull +not to inquire further, she said, with a careful calmness which was +evidently defensive. + +Lydgate stared at her in mute amazement. Only half an hour before he +had been fastening up her plaits for her, and talking the little +language of affection, which Rosamond, though not returning it, +accepted as if she had been a serene and lovely image, now and then +miraculously dimpling towards her votary. With such fibres still astir +in him, the shock he received could not at once be distinctly anger; it +was confused pain. He laid down the knife and fork with which he was +carving, and throwing himself back in his chair, said at last, with a +cool irony in his tone + +May I ask when and why you did so? + +When I knew that the Plymdales had taken a house, I called to tell him +not to mention ours to them; and at the same time I told him not to let +the affair go on any further. I knew that it would be very injurious to +you if it were known that you wished to part with your house and +furniture, and I had a very strong objection to it. I think that was +reason enough. + +It was of no consequence then that I had told you imperative reasons +of another kind; of no consequence that I had come to a different +conclusion, and given an order accordingly? said Lydgate, bitingly, +the thunder and lightning gathering about his brow and eyes. + +The effect of any ones anger on Rosamond had always been to make her +shrink in cold dislike, and to become all the more calmly correct, in +the conviction that she was not the person to misbehave whatever others +might do. She replied + +I think I had a perfect right to speak on a subject which concerns me +at least as much as you. + +Clearlyyou had a right to speak, but only to me. You had no right to +contradict my orders secretly, and treat me as if I were a fool, said +Lydgate, in the same tone as before. Then with some added scorn, Is it +possible to make you understand what the consequences will be? Is it of +any use for me to tell you again why we must try to part with the +house? + +It is not necessary for you to tell me again, said Rosamond, in a +voice that fell and trickled like cold water-drops. I remembered what +you said. You spoke just as violently as you do now. But that does not +alter my opinion that you ought to try every other means rather than +take a step which is so painful to me. And as to advertising the house, +I think it would be perfectly degrading to you. + +And suppose I disregard your opinion as you disregard mine? + +You can do so, of course. But I think you ought to have told me before +we were married that you would place me in the worst position, rather +than give up your own will. + +Lydgate did not speak, but tossed his head on one side, and twitched +the corners of his mouth in despair. Rosamond, seeing that he was not +looking at her, rose and set his cup of coffee before him; but he took +no notice of it, and went on with an inward drama and argument, +occasionally moving in his seat, resting one arm on the table, and +rubbing his hand against his hair. There was a conflux of emotions and +thoughts in him that would not let him either give thorough way to his +anger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Rosamond took +advantage of his silence. + +When we were married everyone felt that your position was very high. I +could not have imagined then that you would want to sell our furniture, +and take a house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like cages. If we +are to live in that way let us at least leave Middlemarch. + +These would be very strong considerations, said Lydgate, half +ironicallystill there was a withered paleness about his lips as he +looked at his coffee, and did not drinkthese would be very strong +considerations if I did not happen to be in debt. + +Many persons must have been in debt in the same way, but if they are +respectable, people trust them. I am sure I have heard papa say that +the Torbits were in debt, and they went on very well. It cannot be good +to act rashly, said Rosamond, with serene wisdom. + +Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning he could +apply to Rosamond seemed likely to conquer her assent, he wanted to +smash and grind some object on which he could at least produce an +impression, or else to tell her brutally that he was master, and she +must obey. But he not only dreaded the effect of such extremities on +their mutual lifehe had a growing dread of Rosamonds quiet elusive +obstinacy, which would not allow any assertion of power to be final; +and again, she had touched him in a spot of keenest feeling by implying +that she had been deluded with a false vision of happiness in marrying +him. As to saying that he was master, it was not the fact. The very +resolution to which he had wrought himself by dint of logic and +honorable pride was beginning to relax under her torpedo contact. He +swallowed half his cup of coffee, and then rose to go. + +I may at least request that you will not go to Trumbull at +presentuntil it has been seen that there are no other means, said +Rosamond. Although she was not subject to much fear, she felt it safer +not to betray that she had written to Sir Godwin. Promise me that you +will not go to him for a few weeks, or without telling me. + +Lydgate gave a short laugh. I think it is I who should exact a promise +that you will do nothing without telling me, he said, turning his eyes +sharply upon her, and then moving to the door. + +You remember that we are going to dine at papas, said Rosamond, +wishing that he should turn and make a more thorough concession to her. +But he only said Oh yes, impatiently, and went away. She held it to +be very odious in him that he did not think the painful propositions he +had had to make to her were enough, without showing so unpleasant a +temper. And when she put the moderate request that he would defer going +to Trumbull again, it was cruel in him not to assure her of what he +meant to do. She was convinced of her having acted in every way for the +best; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgates served only as an +addition to the register of offences in her mind. Poor Rosamond for +months had begun to associate her husband with feelings of +disappointment, and the terribly inflexible relation of marriage had +lost its charm of encouraging delightful dreams. It had freed her from +the disagreeables of her fathers house, but it had not given her +everything that she had wished and hoped. The Lydgate with whom she had +been in love had been a group of airy conditions for her, most of which +had disappeared, while their place had been taken by every-day details +which must be lived through slowly from hour to hour, not floated +through with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. The habits of +Lydgates profession, his home preoccupation with scientific subjects, +which seemed to her almost like a morbid vampires taste, his peculiar +views of things which had never entered into the dialogue of +courtshipall these continually alienating influences, even without the +fact of his having placed himself at a disadvantage in the town, and +without that first shock of revelation about Dovers debt, would have +made his presence dull to her. There was another presence which ever +since the early days of her marriage, until four months ago, had been +an agreeable excitement, but that was gone: Rosamond would not confess +to herself how much the consequent blank had to do with her utter +ennui; and it seemed to her (perhaps she was right) that an invitation +to Quallingham, and an opening for Lydgate to settle elsewhere than in +Middlemarchin London, or somewhere likely to be free from +unpleasantnesswould satisfy her quite well, and make her indifferent +to the absence of Will Ladislaw, towards whom she felt some resentment +for his exaltation of Mrs. Casaubon. + +That was the state of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the New +Years Day when they dined at her fathers, she looking mildly neutral +towards him in remembrance of his ill-tempered behavior at breakfast, +and he carrying a much deeper effect from the inward conflict in which +that morning scene was only one of many epochs. His flushed effort +while talking to Mr. Farebrotherhis effort after the cynical pretence +that all ways of getting money are essentially the same, and that +chance has an empire which reduces choice to a fools illusionwas but +the symptom of a wavering resolve, a benumbed response to the old +stimuli of enthusiasm. + +What was he to do? He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the +dreariness of taking her into the small house in Bride Street, where +she would have scanty furniture around her and discontent within: a +life of privation and life with Rosamond were two images which had +become more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation +had disclosed itself. But even if his resolves had forced the two +images into combination, the useful preliminaries to that hard change +were not visibly within reach. And though he had not given the promise +which his wife had asked for, he did not go again to Trumbull. He even +began to think of taking a rapid journey to the North and seeing Sir +Godwin. He had once believed that nothing would urge him into making an +application for money to his uncle, but he had not then known the full +pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. He could not depend on +the effect of a letter; it was only in an interview, however +disagreeable this might be to himself, that he could give a thorough +explanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship. No sooner had +Lydgate begun to represent this step to himself as the easiest than +there was a reaction of anger that hehe who had long ago determined to +live aloof from such abject calculations, such self-interested anxiety +about the inclinations and the pockets of men with whom he had been +proud to have no aims in commonshould have fallen not simply to their +level, but to the level of soliciting them. + + + + +CHAPTER LXV. + +One of us two must bowen douteless, +And, sith a man is more reasonable +Than woman is, ye [men] moste be suffrable. +CHAUCER: _Canterbury Tales_. + + +The bias of human nature to be slow in correspondence triumphs even +over the present quickening in the general pace of things: what wonder +then that in 1832 old Sir Godwin Lydgate was slow to write a letter +which was of consequence to others rather than to himself? Nearly three +weeks of the new year were gone, and Rosamond, awaiting an answer to +her winning appeal, was every day disappointed. Lydgate, in total +ignorance of her expectations, was seeing the bills come in, and +feeling that Dovers use of his advantage over other creditors was +imminent. He had never mentioned to Rosamond his brooding purpose of +going to Quallingham: he did not want to admit what would appear to her +a concession to her wishes after indignant refusal, until the last +moment; but he was really expecting to set off soon. A slice of the +railway would enable him to manage the whole journey and back in four +days. + +But one morning after Lydgate had gone out, a letter came addressed to +him, which Rosamond saw clearly to be from Sir Godwin. She was full of +hope. Perhaps there might be a particular note to her enclosed; but +Lydgate was naturally addressed on the question of money or other aid, +and the fact that he was written to, nay, the very delay in writing at +all, seemed to certify that the answer was thoroughly compliant. She +was too much excited by these thoughts to do anything but light +stitching in a warm corner of the dining-room, with the outside of this +momentous letter lying on the table before her. About twelve she heard +her husbands step in the passage, and tripping to open the door, she +said in her lightest tones, Tertius, come in herehere is a letter for +you. + +Ah? he said, not taking off his hat, but just turning her round +within his arm to walk towards the spot where the letter lay. My uncle +Godwin! he exclaimed, while Rosamond reseated herself, and watched him +as he opened the letter. She had expected him to be surprised. + +While Lydgates eyes glanced rapidly over the brief letter, she saw his +face, usually of a pale brown, taking on a dry whiteness; with nostrils +and lips quivering he tossed down the letter before her, and said +violently + +It will be impossible to endure life with you, if you will always be +acting secretlyacting in opposition to me and hiding your actions. + +He checked his speech and turned his back on herthen wheeled round and +walked about, sat down, and got up again restlessly, grasping hard the +objects deep down in his pockets. He was afraid of saying something +irremediably cruel. + +Rosamond too had changed color as she read. The letter ran in this +way: + +DEAR TERTIUS,Dont set your wife to write to me when you have +anything to ask. It is a roundabout wheedling sort of thing which I +should not have credited you with. I never choose to write to a woman +on matters of business. As to my supplying you with a thousand pounds, +or only half that sum, I can do nothing of the sort. My own family +drains me to the last penny. With two younger sons and three daughters, +I am not likely to have cash to spare. You seem to have got through +your own money pretty quickly, and to have made a mess where you are; +the sooner you go somewhere else the better. But I have nothing to do +with men of your profession, and cant help you there. I did the best I +could for you as guardian, and let you have your own way in taking to +medicine. You might have gone into the army or the Church. Your money +would have held out for that, and there would have been a surer ladder +before you. Your uncle Charles has had a grudge against you for not +going into his profession, but not I. I have always wished you well, +but you must consider yourself on your own legs entirely now. + + +Your affectionate uncle, +GODWIN LYDGATE. + + +When Rosamond had finished reading the letter she sat quite still, with +her hands folded before her, restraining any show of her keen +disappointment, and intrenching herself in quiet passivity under her +husbands wrath. Lydgate paused in his movements, looked at her again, +and said, with biting severity + +Will this be enough to convince you of the harm you may do by secret +meddling? Have you sense enough to recognize now your incompetence to +judge and act for meto interfere with your ignorance in affairs which +it belongs to me to decide on? + +The words were hard; but this was not the first time that Lydgate had +been frustrated by her. She did not look at him, and made no reply. + +I had nearly resolved on going to Quallingham. It would have cost me +pain enough to do it, yet it might have been of some use. But it has +been of no use for me to think of anything. You have always been +counteracting me secretly. You delude me with a false assent, and then +I am at the mercy of your devices. If you mean to resist every wish I +express, say so and defy me. I shall at least know what I am doing +then. + +It is a terrible moment in young lives when the closeness of loves +bond has turned to this power of galling. In spite of Rosamonds +self-control a tear fell silently and rolled over her lips. She still +said nothing; but under that quietude was hidden an intense effect: she +was in such entire disgust with her husband that she wished she had +never seen him. Sir Godwins rudeness towards her and utter want of +feeling ranged him with Dover and all other creditorsdisagreeable +people who only thought of themselves, and did not mind how annoying +they were to her. Even her father was unkind, and might have done more +for them. In fact there was but one person in Rosamonds world whom she +did not regard as blameworthy, and that was the graceful creature with +blond plaits and with little hands crossed before her, who had never +expressed herself unbecomingly, and had always acted for the bestthe +best naturally being what she best liked. + +Lydgate pausing and looking at her began to feel that half-maddening +sense of helplessness which comes over passionate people when their +passion is met by an innocent-looking silence whose meek victimized air +seems to put them in the wrong, and at last infects even the justest +indignation with a doubt of its justice. He needed to recover the full +sense that he was in the right by moderating his words. + +Can you not see, Rosamond, he began again, trying to be simply grave +and not bitter, that nothing can be so fatal as a want of openness and +confidence between us? It has happened again and again that I have +expressed a decided wish, and you have seemed to assent, yet after that +you have secretly disobeyed my wish. In that way I can never know what +I have to trust to. There would be some hope for us if you would admit +this. Am I such an unreasonable, furious brute? Why should you not be +open with me? Still silence. + +Will you only say that you have been mistaken, and that I may depend +on your not acting secretly in future? said Lydgate, urgently, but +with something of request in his tone which Rosamond was quick to +perceive. She spoke with coolness. + +I cannot possibly make admissions or promises in answer to such words +as you have used towards me. I have not been accustomed to language of +that kind. You have spoken of my secret meddling, and my interfering +ignorance, and my false assent. I have never expressed myself in +that way to you, and I think that you ought to apologize. You spoke of +its being impossible to live with me. Certainly you have not made my +life pleasant to me of late. I think it was to be expected that I +should try to avert some of the hardships which our marriage has +brought on me. Another tear fell as Rosamond ceased speaking, and she +pressed it away as quietly as the first. + +Lydgate flung himself into a chair, feeling checkmated. What place was +there in her mind for a remonstrance to lodge in? He laid down his hat, +flung an arm over the back of his chair, and looked down for some +moments without speaking. Rosamond had the double purchase over him of +insensibility to the point of justice in his reproach, and of +sensibility to the undeniable hardships now present in her married +life. Although her duplicity in the affair of the house had exceeded +what he knew, and had really hindered the Plymdales from knowing of it, +she had no consciousness that her action could rightly be called false. +We are not obliged to identify our own acts according to a strict +classification, any more than the materials of our grocery and clothes. +Rosamond felt that she was aggrieved, and that this was what Lydgate +had to recognize. + +As for him, the need of accommodating himself to her nature, which was +inflexible in proportion to its negations, held him as with pincers. He +had begun to have an alarmed foresight of her irrevocable loss of love +for him, and the consequent dreariness of their life. The ready fulness +of his emotions made this dread alternate quickly with the first +violent movements of his anger. It would assuredly have been a vain +boast in him to say that he was her master. + +You have not made my life pleasant to me of latethe hardships which +our marriage has brought on methese words were stinging his +imagination as a pain makes an exaggerated dream. If he were not only +to sink from his highest resolve, but to sink into the hideous +fettering of domestic hate? + +Rosamond, he said, turning his eyes on her with a melancholy look, +you should allow for a mans words when he is disappointed and +provoked. You and I cannot have opposite interests. I cannot part my +happiness from yours. If I am angry with you, it is that you seem not +to see how any concealment divides us. How could I wish to make +anything hard to you either by my words or conduct? When I hurt you, I +hurt part of my own life. I should never be angry with you if you would +be quite open with me. + +I have only wished to prevent you from hurrying us into wretchedness +without any necessity, said Rosamond, the tears coming again from a +softened feeling now that her husband had softened. It is so very hard +to be disgraced here among all the people we know, and to live in such +a miserable way. I wish I had died with the baby. + +She spoke and wept with that gentleness which makes such words and +tears omnipotent over a loving-hearted man. Lydgate drew his chair near +to hers and pressed her delicate head against his cheek with his +powerful tender hand. He only caressed her; he did not say anything; +for what was there to say? He could not promise to shield her from the +dreaded wretchedness, for he could see no sure means of doing so. When +he left her to go out again, he told himself that it was ten times +harder for her than for him: he had a life away from home, and constant +appeals to his activity on behalf of others. He wished to excuse +everything in her if he couldbut it was inevitable that in that +excusing mood he should think of her as if she were an animal of +another and feebler species. Nevertheless she had mastered him. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVI. + +Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, +Another thing to fall. +_Measure for Measure_. + + +Lydgate certainly had good reason to reflect on the service his +practice did him in counteracting his personal cares. He had no longer +free energy enough for spontaneous research and speculative thinking, +but by the bedside of patients, the direct external calls on his +judgment and sympathies brought the added impulse needed to draw him +out of himself. It was not simply that beneficent harness of routine +which enables silly men to live respectably and unhappy men to live +calmlyit was a perpetual claim on the immediate fresh application of +thought, and on the consideration of anothers need and trial. Many of +us looking back through life would say that the kindest man we have +ever known has been a medical man, or perhaps that surgeon whose fine +tact, directed by deeply informed perception, has come to us in our +need with a more sublime beneficence than that of miracle-workers. Some +of that twice-blessed mercy was always with Lydgate in his work at the +Hospital or in private houses, serving better than any opiate to quiet +and sustain him under his anxieties and his sense of mental degeneracy. + +Mr. Farebrothers suspicion as to the opiate was true, however. Under +the first galling pressure of foreseen difficulties, and the first +perception that his marriage, if it were not to be a yoked loneliness, +must be a state of effort to go on loving without too much care about +being loved, he had once or twice tried a dose of opium. But he had no +hereditary constitutional craving after such transient escapes from the +hauntings of misery. He was strong, could drink a great deal of wine, +but did not care about it; and when the men round him were drinking +spirits, he took sugar and water, having a contemptuous pity even for +the earliest stages of excitement from drink. It was the same with +gambling. He had looked on at a great deal of gambling in Paris, +watching it as if it had been a disease. He was no more tempted by such +winning than he was by drink. He had said to himself that the only +winning he cared for must be attained by a conscious process of high, +difficult combination tending towards a beneficent result. The power he +longed for could not be represented by agitated fingers clutching a +heap of coin, or by the half-barbarous, half-idiotic triumph in the +eyes of a man who sweeps within his arms the ventures of twenty +chapfallen companions. + +But just as he had tried opium, so his thought now began to turn upon +gamblingnot with appetite for its excitement, but with a sort of +wistful inward gaze after that easy way of getting money, which implied +no asking and brought no responsibility. If he had been in London or +Paris at that time, it is probable that such thoughts, seconded by +opportunity, would have taken him into a gambling-house, no longer to +watch the gamblers, but to watch with them in kindred eagerness. +Repugnance would have been surmounted by the immense need to win, if +chance would be kind enough to let him. An incident which happened not +very long after that airy notion of getting aid from his uncle had been +excluded, was a strong sign of the effect that might have followed any +extant opportunity of gambling. + +The billiard-room at the Green Dragon was the constant resort of a +certain set, most of whom, like our acquaintance Mr. Bambridge, were +regarded as men of pleasure. It was here that poor Fred Vincy had made +part of his memorable debt, having lost money in betting, and been +obliged to borrow of that gay companion. It was generally known in +Middlemarch that a good deal of money was lost and won in this way; and +the consequent repute of the Green Dragon as a place of dissipation +naturally heightened in some quarters the temptation to go there. +Probably its regular visitants, like the initiates of freemasonry, +wished that there were something a little more tremendous to keep to +themselves concerning it; but they were not a closed community, and +many decent seniors as well as juniors occasionally turned into the +billiard-room to see what was going on. Lydgate, who had the muscular +aptitude for billiards, and was fond of the game, had once or twice in +the early days after his arrival in Middlemarch taken his turn with the +cue at the Green Dragon; but afterwards he had no leisure for the game, +and no inclination for the socialities there. One evening, however, he +had occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge at that resort. The horsedealer had +engaged to get him a customer for his remaining good horse, for which +Lydgate had determined to substitute a cheap hack, hoping by this +reduction of style to get perhaps twenty pounds; and he cared now for +every small sum, as a help towards feeding the patience of his +tradesmen. To run up to the billiard-room, as he was passing, would +save time. + +Mr. Bambridge was not yet come, but would be sure to arrive by-and-by, +said his friend Mr. Horrock; and Lydgate stayed, playing a game for the +sake of passing the time. That evening he had the peculiar light in the +eyes and the unusual vivacity which had been once noticed in him by Mr. +Farebrother. The exceptional fact of his presence was much noticed in +the room, where there was a good deal of Middlemarch company; and +several lookers-on, as well as some of the players, were betting with +animation. Lydgate was playing well, and felt confident; the bets were +dropping round him, and with a swift glancing thought of the probable +gain which might double the sum he was saving from his horse, he began +to bet on his own play, and won again and again. Mr. Bambridge had come +in, but Lydgate did not notice him. He was not only excited with his +play, but visions were gleaming on him of going the next day to +Brassing, where there was gambling on a grander scale to be had, and +where, by one powerful snatch at the devils bait, he might carry it +off without the hook, and buy his rescue from his daily solicitings. + +He was still winning when two new visitors entered. One of them was a +young Hawley, just come from his law studies in town, and the other was +Fred Vincy, who had spent several evenings of late at this old haunt of +his. Young Hawley, an accomplished billiard-player, brought a cool +fresh hand to the cue. But Fred Vincy, startled at seeing Lydgate, and +astonished to see him betting with an excited air, stood aside, and +kept out of the circle round the table. + +Fred had been rewarding resolution by a little laxity of late. He had +been working heartily for six months at all outdoor occupations under +Mr. Garth, and by dint of severe practice had nearly mastered the +defects of his handwriting, this practice being, perhaps, a little the +less severe that it was often carried on in the evening at Mr. Garths +under the eyes of Mary. But the last fortnight Mary had been staying at +Lowick Parsonage with the ladies there, during Mr. Farebrothers +residence in Middlemarch, where he was carrying out some parochial +plans; and Fred, not seeing anything more agreeable to do, had turned +into the Green Dragon, partly to play at billiards, partly to taste the +old flavor of discourse about horses, sport, and things in general, +considered from a point of view which was not strenuously correct. He +had not been out hunting once this season, had had no horse of his own +to ride, and had gone from place to place chiefly with Mr. Garth in his +gig, or on the sober cob which Mr. Garth could lend him. It was a +little too bad, Fred began to think, that he should be kept in the +traces with more severity than if he had been a clergyman. I will tell +you what, Mistress Maryit will be rather harder work to learn +surveying and drawing plans than it would have been to write sermons, +he had said, wishing her to appreciate what he went through for her +sake; and as to Hercules and Theseus, they were nothing to me. They +had sport, and never learned to write a bookkeeping hand. And now, +Mary being out of the way for a little while, Fred, like any other +strong dog who cannot slip his collar, had pulled up the staple of his +chain and made a small escape, not of course meaning to go fast or far. +There could be no reason why he should not play at billiards, but he +was determined not to bet. As to money just now, Fred had in his mind +the heroic project of saving almost all of the eighty pounds that Mr. +Garth offered him, and returning it, which he could easily do by giving +up all futile money-spending, since he had a superfluous stock of +clothes, and no expense in his board. In that way he could, in one +year, go a good way towards repaying the ninety pounds of which he had +deprived Mrs. Garth, unhappily at a time when she needed that sum more +than she did now. Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that on this +evening, which was the fifth of his recent visits to the billiard-room, +Fred had, not in his pocket, but in his mind, the ten pounds which he +meant to reserve for himself from his half-years salary (having before +him the pleasure of carrying thirty to Mrs. Garth when Mary was likely +to be come home again)he had those ten pounds in his mind as a fund +from which he might risk something, if there were a chance of a good +bet. Why? Well, when sovereigns were flying about, why shouldnt he +catch a few? He would never go far along that road again; but a man +likes to assure himself, and men of pleasure generally, what he could +do in the way of mischief if he chose, and that if he abstains from +making himself ill, or beggaring himself, or talking with the utmost +looseness which the narrow limits of human capacity will allow, it is +not because he is a spooney. Fred did not enter into formal reasons, +which are a very artificial, inexact way of representing the tingling +returns of old habit, and the caprices of young blood: but there was +lurking in him a prophetic sense that evening, that when he began to +play he should also begin to betthat he should enjoy some +punch-drinking, and in general prepare himself for feeling rather +seedy in the morning. It is in such indefinable movements that action +often begins. + +But the last thing likely to have entered Freds expectation was that +he should see his brother-in-law Lydgateof whom he had never quite +dropped the old opinion that he was a prig, and tremendously conscious +of his superioritylooking excited and betting, just as he himself +might have done. Fred felt a shock greater than he could quite account +for by the vague knowledge that Lydgate was in debt, and that his +father had refused to help him; and his own inclination to enter into +the play was suddenly checked. It was a strange reversal of attitudes: +Freds blond face and blue eyes, usually bright and careless, ready to +give attention to anything that held out a promise of amusement, +looking involuntarily grave and almost embarrassed as if by the sight +of something unfitting; while Lydgate, who had habitually an air of +self-possessed strength, and a certain meditativeness that seemed to +lie behind his most observant attention, was acting, watching, speaking +with that excited narrow consciousness which reminds one of an animal +with fierce eyes and retractile claws. + +Lydgate, by betting on his own strokes, had won sixteen pounds; but +young Hawleys arrival had changed the poise of things. He made +first-rate strokes himself, and began to bet against Lydgates strokes, +the strain of whose nerves was thus changed from simple confidence in +his own movements to defying another persons doubt in them. The +defiance was more exciting than the confidence, but it was less sure. +He continued to bet on his own play, but began often to fail. Still he +went on, for his mind was as utterly narrowed into that precipitous +crevice of play as if he had been the most ignorant lounger there. Fred +observed that Lydgate was losing fast, and found himself in the new +situation of puzzling his brains to think of some device by which, +without being offensive, he could withdraw Lydgates attention, and +perhaps suggest to him a reason for quitting the room. He saw that +others were observing Lydgates strange unlikeness to himself, and it +occurred to him that merely to touch his elbow and call him aside for a +moment might rouse him from his absorption. He could think of nothing +cleverer than the daring improbability of saying that he wanted to see +Rosy, and wished to know if she were at home this evening; and he was +going desperately to carry out this weak device, when a waiter came up +to him with a message, saying that Mr. Farebrother was below, and +begged to speak with him. + +Fred was surprised, not quite comfortably, but sending word that he +would be down immediately, he went with a new impulse up to Lydgate, +said, Can I speak to you a moment? and drew him aside. + +Farebrother has just sent up a message to say that he wants to speak +to me. He is below. I thought you might like to know he was there, if +you had anything to say to him. + +Fred had simply snatched up this pretext for speaking, because he could +not say, You are losing confoundedly, and are making everybody stare +at you; you had better come away. But inspiration could hardly have +served him better. Lydgate had not before seen that Fred was present, +and his sudden appearance with an announcement of Mr. Farebrother had +the effect of a sharp concussion. + +No, no, said Lydgate; I have nothing particular to say to him. +Butthe game is upI must be goingI came in just to see Bambridge. + +Bambridge is over there, but he is making a rowI dont think hes +ready for business. Come down with me to Farebrother. I expect he is +going to blow me up, and you will shield me, said Fred, with some +adroitness. + +Lydgate felt shame, but could not bear to act as if he felt it, by +refusing to see Mr. Farebrother; and he went down. They merely shook +hands, however, and spoke of the frost; and when all three had turned +into the street, the Vicar seemed quite willing to say good-by to +Lydgate. His present purpose was clearly to talk with Fred alone, and +he said, kindly, I disturbed you, young gentleman, because I have some +pressing business with you. Walk with me to St. Botolphs, will you? + +It was a fine night, the sky thick with stars, and Mr. Farebrother +proposed that they should make a circuit to the old church by the +London road. The next thing he said was + +I thought Lydgate never went to the Green Dragon? + +So did I, said Fred. But he said that he went to see Bambridge. + +He was not playing, then? + +Fred had not meant to tell this, but he was obliged now to say, Yes, +he was. But I suppose it was an accidental thing. I have never seen him +there before. + +You have been going often yourself, then, lately? + +Oh, about five or six times. + +I think you had some good reason for giving up the habit of going +there? + +Yes. You know all about it, said Fred, not liking to be catechised in +this way. I made a clean breast to you. + +I suppose that gives me a warrant to speak about the matter now. It is +understood between us, is it not?that we are on a footing of open +friendship: I have listened to you, and you will be willing to listen +to me. I may take my turn in talking a little about myself? + +I am under the deepest obligation to you, Mr. Farebrother, said Fred, +in a state of uncomfortable surmise. + +I will not affect to deny that you are under some obligation to me. +But I am going to confess to you, Fred, that I have been tempted to +reverse all that by keeping silence with you just now. When somebody +said to me, Young Vincy has taken to being at the billiard-table every +night againhe wont bear the curb long; I was tempted to do the +opposite of what I am doingto hold my tongue and wait while you went +down the ladder again, betting first and then + +I have not made any bets, said Fred, hastily. + +Glad to hear it. But I say, my prompting was to look on and see you +take the wrong turning, wear out Garths patience, and lose the best +opportunity of your lifethe opportunity which you made some rather +difficult effort to secure. You can guess the feeling which raised that +temptation in meI am sure you know it. I am sure you know that the +satisfaction of your affections stands in the way of mine. + +There was a pause. Mr. Farebrother seemed to wait for a recognition of +the fact; and the emotion perceptible in the tones of his fine voice +gave solemnity to his words. But no feeling could quell Freds alarm. + +I could not be expected to give her up, he said, after a moments +hesitation: it was not a case for any pretence of generosity. + +Clearly not, when her affection met yours. But relations of this sort, +even when they are of long standing, are always liable to change. I can +easily conceive that you might act in a way to loosen the tie she feels +towards youit must be remembered that she is only conditionally bound +to youand that in that case, another man, who may flatter himself that +he has a hold on her regard, might succeed in winning that firm place +in her love as well as respect which you had let slip. I can easily +conceive such a result, repeated Mr. Farebrother, emphatically. There +is a companionship of ready sympathy, which might get the advantage +even over the longest associations. It seemed to Fred that if Mr. +Farebrother had had a beak and talons instead of his very capable +tongue, his mode of attack could hardly be more cruel. He had a +horrible conviction that behind all this hypothetic statement there was +a knowledge of some actual change in Marys feeling. + +Of course I know it might easily be all up with me, he said, in a +troubled voice. If she is beginning to compare He broke off, not +liking to betray all he felt, and then said, by the help of a little +bitterness, But I thought you were friendly to me. + +So I am; that is why we are here. But I have had a strong disposition +to be otherwise. I have said to myself, If there is a likelihood of +that youngster doing himself harm, why should you interfere? Arent you +worth as much as he is, and dont your sixteen years over and above +his, in which you have gone rather hungry, give you more right to +satisfaction than he has? If theres a chance of his going to the dogs, +let himperhaps you could nohow hinder itand do you take the +benefit. + +There was a pause, in which Fred was seized by a most uncomfortable +chill. What was coming next? He dreaded to hear that something had been +said to Maryhe felt as if he were listening to a threat rather than a +warning. When the Vicar began again there was a change in his tone like +the encouraging transition to a major key. + +But I had once meant better than that, and I am come back to my old +intention. I thought that I could hardly _secure myself_ in it better, +Fred, than by telling you just what had gone on in me. And now, do you +understand me? I want you to make the happiness of her life and your +own, and if there is any chance that a word of warning from me may turn +aside any risk to the contrarywell, I have uttered it. + +There was a drop in the Vicars voice when he spoke the last words. He +pausedthey were standing on a patch of green where the road diverged +towards St. Botolphs, and he put out his hand, as if to imply that the +conversation was closed. Fred was moved quite newly. Some one highly +susceptible to the contemplation of a fine act has said, that it +produces a sort of regenerating shudder through the frame, and makes +one feel ready to begin a new life. A good degree of that effect was +just then present in Fred Vincy. + +I will try to be worthy, he said, breaking off before he could say +of you as well as of her. And meanwhile Mr. Farebrother had gathered +the impulse to say something more. + +You must not imagine that I believe there is at present any decline in +her preference of you, Fred. Set your heart at rest, that if you keep +right, other things will keep right. + +I shall never forget what you have done, Fred answered. I cant say +anything that seems worth sayingonly I will try that your goodness +shall not be thrown away. + +Thats enough. Good-by, and God bless you. + +In that way they parted. But both of them walked about a long while +before they went out of the starlight. Much of Freds rumination might +be summed up in the words, It certainly would have been a fine thing +for her to marry Farebrotherbut if she loves me best and I am a good +husband? + +Perhaps Mr. Farebrothers might be concentrated into a single shrug and +one little speech. To think of the part one little woman can play in +the life of a man, so that to renounce her may be a very good imitation +of heroism, and to win her may be a discipline! + + + + +CHAPTER LXVII. + +Now is there civil war within the soul: +Resolve is thrust from off the sacred throne +By clamorous Needs, and Pride the grand-vizier +Makes humble compact, plays the supple part +Of envoy and deft-tongued apologist +For hungry rebels. + + +Happily Lydgate had ended by losing in the billiard-room, and brought +away no encouragement to make a raid on luck. On the contrary, he felt +unmixed disgust with himself the next day when he had to pay four or +five pounds over and above his gains, and he carried about with him a +most unpleasant vision of the figure he had made, not only rubbing +elbows with the men at the Green Dragon but behaving just as they did. +A philosopher fallen to betting is hardly distinguishable from a +Philistine under the same circumstances: the difference will chiefly be +found in his subsequent reflections, and Lydgate chewed a very +disagreeable cud in that way. His reason told him how the affair might +have been magnified into ruin by a slight change of sceneryif it had +been a gambling-house that he had turned into, where chance could be +clutched with both hands instead of being picked up with thumb and +fore-finger. Nevertheless, though reason strangled the desire to +gamble, there remained the feeling that, with an assurance of luck to +the needful amount, he would have liked to gamble, rather than take the +alternative which was beginning to urge itself as inevitable. + +That alternative was to apply to Mr. Bulstrode. Lydgate had so many +times boasted both to himself and others that he was totally +independent of Bulstrode, to whose plans he had lent himself solely +because they enabled him to carry out his own ideas of professional +work and public benefithe had so constantly in their personal +intercourse had his pride sustained by the sense that he was making a +good social use of this predominating banker, whose opinions he thought +contemptible and whose motives often seemed to him an absurd mixture of +contradictory impressionsthat he had been creating for himself strong +ideal obstacles to the proffering of any considerable request to him on +his own account. + +Still, early in March his affairs were at that pass in which men begin +to say that their oaths were delivered in ignorance, and to perceive +that the act which they had called impossible to them is becoming +manifestly possible. With Dovers ugly security soon to be put in +force, with the proceeds of his practice immediately absorbed in paying +back debts, and with the chance, if the worst were known, of daily +supplies being refused on credit, above all with the vision of +Rosamonds hopeless discontent continually haunting him, Lydgate had +begun to see that he should inevitably bend himself to ask help from +somebody or other. At first he had considered whether he should write +to Mr. Vincy; but on questioning Rosamond he found that, as he had +suspected, she had already applied twice to her father, the last time +being since the disappointment from Sir Godwin; and papa had said that +Lydgate must look out for himself. Papa said he had come, with one bad +year after another, to trade more and more on borrowed capital, and had +had to give up many indulgences; he could not spare a single hundred +from the charges of his family. He said, let Lydgate ask Bulstrode: +they have always been hand and glove. + +Indeed, Lydgate himself had come to the conclusion that if he must end +by asking for a free loan, his relations with Bulstrode, more at least +than with any other man, might take the shape of a claim which was not +purely personal. Bulstrode had indirectly helped to cause the failure +of his practice, and had also been highly gratified by getting a +medical partner in his plans:but who among us ever reduced himself to +the sort of dependence in which Lydgate now stood, without trying to +believe that he had claims which diminished the humiliation of asking? +It was true that of late there had seemed to be a new languor of +interest in Bulstrode about the Hospital; but his health had got worse, +and showed signs of a deep-seated nervous affection. In other respects +he did not appear to be changed: he had always been highly polite, but +Lydgate had observed in him from the first a marked coldness about his +marriage and other private circumstances, a coldness which he had +hitherto preferred to any warmth of familiarity between them. He +deferred the intention from day to day, his habit of acting on his +conclusions being made infirm by his repugnance to every possible +conclusion and its consequent act. He saw Mr. Bulstrode often, but he +did not try to use any occasion for his private purpose. At one moment +he thought, I will write a letter: I prefer that to any circuitous +talk; at another he thought, No; if I were talking to him, I could +make a retreat before any signs of disinclination. + +Still the days passed and no letter was written, no special interview +sought. In his shrinking from the humiliation of a dependent attitude +towards Bulstrode, he began to familiarize his imagination with another +step even more unlike his remembered self. He began spontaneously to +consider whether it would be possible to carry out that puerile notion +of Rosamonds which had often made him angry, namely, that they should +quit Middlemarch without seeing anything beyond that preface. The +question cameWould any man buy the practice of me even now, for as +little as it is worth? Then the sale might happen as a necessary +preparation for going away. + +But against his taking this step, which he still felt to be a +contemptible relinquishment of present work, a guilty turning aside +from what was a real and might be a widening channel for worthy +activity, to start again without any justified destination, there was +this obstacle, that the purchaser, if procurable at all, might not be +quickly forthcoming. And afterwards? Rosamond in a poor lodging, though +in the largest city or most distant town, would not find the life that +could save her from gloom, and save him from the reproach of having +plunged her into it. For when a man is at the foot of the hill in his +fortunes, he may stay a long while there in spite of professional +accomplishment. In the British climate there is no incompatibility +between scientific insight and furnished lodgings: the incompatibility +is chiefly between scientific ambition and a wife who objects to that +kind of residence. + +But in the midst of his hesitation, opportunity came to decide him. A +note from Mr. Bulstrode requested Lydgate to call on him at the Bank. A +hypochondriacal tendency had shown itself in the bankers constitution +of late; and a lack of sleep, which was really only a slight +exaggeration of an habitual dyspeptic symptom, had been dwelt on by him +as a sign of threatening insanity. He wanted to consult Lydgate without +delay on that particular morning, although he had nothing to tell +beyond what he had told before. He listened eagerly to what Lydgate had +to say in dissipation of his fears, though this too was only +repetition; and this moment in which Bulstrode was receiving a medical +opinion with a sense of comfort, seemed to make the communication of a +personal need to him easier than it had been in Lydgates contemplation +beforehand. He had been insisting that it would be well for Mr. +Bulstrode to relax his attention to business. + +One sees how any mental strain, however slight, may affect a delicate +frame, said Lydgate at that stage of the consultation when the remarks +tend to pass from the personal to the general, by the deep stamp which +anxiety will make for a time even on the young and vigorous. I am +naturally very strong; yet I have been thoroughly shaken lately by an +accumulation of trouble. + +I presume that a constitution in the susceptible state in which mine +at present is, would be especially liable to fall a victim to cholera, +if it visited our district. And since its appearance near London, we +may well besiege the Mercy-seat for our protection, said Mr. +Bulstrode, not intending to evade Lydgates allusion, but really +preoccupied with alarms about himself. + +You have at all events taken your share in using good practical +precautions for the town, and that is the best mode of asking for +protection, said Lydgate, with a strong distaste for the broken +metaphor and bad logic of the bankers religion, somewhat increased by +the apparent deafness of his sympathy. But his mind had taken up its +long-prepared movement towards getting help, and was not yet arrested. +He added, The town has done well in the way of cleansing, and finding +appliances; and I think that if the cholera should come, even our +enemies will admit that the arrangements in the Hospital are a public +good. + +Truly, said Mr. Bulstrode, with some coldness. With regard to what +you say, Mr. Lydgate, about the relaxation of my mental labor, I have +for some time been entertaining a purpose to that effecta purpose of a +very decided character. I contemplate at least a temporary withdrawal +from the management of much business, whether benevolent or commercial. +Also I think of changing my residence for a time: probably I shall +close or let The Shrubs, and take some place near the coastunder +advice of course as to salubrity. That would be a measure which you +would recommend? + +Oh yes, said Lydgate, falling backward in his chair, with +ill-repressed impatience under the bankers pale earnest eyes and +intense preoccupation with himself. + +I have for some time felt that I should open this subject with you in +relation to our Hospital, continued Bulstrode. Under the +circumstances I have indicated, of course I must cease to have any +personal share in the management, and it is contrary to my views of +responsibility to continue a large application of means to an +institution which I cannot watch over and to some extent regulate. I +shall therefore, in case of my ultimate decision to leave Middlemarch, +consider that I withdraw other support to the New Hospital than that +which will subsist in the fact that I chiefly supplied the expenses of +building it, and have contributed further large sums to its successful +working. + +Lydgates thought, when Bulstrode paused according to his wont, was, +He has perhaps been losing a good deal of money. This was the most +plausible explanation of a speech which had caused rather a startling +change in his expectations. He said in reply + +The loss to the Hospital can hardly be made up, I fear. + +Hardly, returned Bulstrode, in the same deliberate, silvery tone; +except by some changes of plan. The only person who may be certainly +counted on as willing to increase her contributions is Mrs. Casaubon. I +have had an interview with her on the subject, and I have pointed out +to her, as I am about to do to you, that it will be desirable to win a +more general support to the New Hospital by a change of system. +Another pause, but Lydgate did not speak. + +The change I mean is an amalgamation with the Infirmary, so that the +New Hospital shall be regarded as a special addition to the elder +institution, having the same directing board. It will be necessary, +also, that the medical management of the two shall be combined. In this +way any difficulty as to the adequate maintenance of our new +establishment will be removed; the benevolent interests of the town +will cease to be divided. + +Mr. Bulstrode had lowered his eyes from Lydgates face to the buttons +of his coat as he again paused. + +No doubt that is a good device as to ways and means, said Lydgate, +with an edge of irony in his tone. But I cant be expected to rejoice +in it at once, since one of the first results will be that the other +medical men will upset or interrupt my methods, if it were only because +they are mine. + +I myself, as you know, Mr. Lydgate, highly valued the opportunity of +new and independent procedure which you have diligently employed: the +original plan, I confess, was one which I had much at heart, under +submission to the Divine Will. But since providential indications +demand a renunciation from me, I renounce. + +Bulstrode showed a rather exasperating ability in this conversation. +The broken metaphor and bad logic of motive which had stirred his +hearers contempt were quite consistent with a mode of putting the +facts which made it difficult for Lydgate to vent his own indignation +and disappointment. After some rapid reflection, he only asked + +What did Mrs. Casaubon say? + +That was the further statement which I wished to make to you, said +Bulstrode, who had thoroughly prepared his ministerial explanation. +She is, you are aware, a woman of most munificent disposition, and +happily in possessionnot I presume of great wealth, but of funds which +she can well spare. She has informed me that though she has destined +the chief part of those funds to another purpose, she is willing to +consider whether she cannot fully take my place in relation to the +Hospital. But she wishes for ample time to mature her thoughts on the +subject, and I have told her that there is no need for hastethat, in +fact, my own plans are not yet absolute. + +Lydgate was ready to say, If Mrs. Casaubon would take your place, +there would be gain, instead of loss. But there was still a weight on +his mind which arrested this cheerful candor. He replied, I suppose, +then, that I may enter into the subject with Mrs. Casaubon. + +Precisely; that is what she expressly desires. Her decision, she says, +will much depend on what you can tell her. But not at present: she is, +I believe, just setting out on a journey. I have her letter here, said +Mr. Bulstrode, drawing it out, and reading from it. I am immediately +otherwise engaged, she says. I am going into Yorkshire with Sir James +and Lady Chettam; and the conclusions I come to about some land which I +am to see there may affect my power of contributing to the Hospital. +Thus, Mr. Lydgate, there is no haste necessary in this matter; but I +wished to apprise you beforehand of what may possibly occur. + +Mr. Bulstrode returned the letter to his side-pocket, and changed his +attitude as if his business were closed. Lydgate, whose renewed hope +about the Hospital only made him more conscious of the facts which +poisoned his hope, felt that his effort after help, if made at all, +must be made now and vigorously. + +I am much obliged to you for giving me full notice, he said, with a +firm intention in his tone, yet with an interruptedness in his delivery +which showed that he spoke unwillingly. The highest object to me is my +profession, and I had identified the Hospital with the best use I can +at present make of my profession. But the best use is not always the +same with monetary success. Everything which has made the Hospital +unpopular has helped with other causesI think they are all connected +with my professional zealto make me unpopular as a practitioner. I get +chiefly patients who cant pay me. I should like them best, if I had +nobody to pay on my own side. Lydgate waited a little, but Bulstrode +only bowed, looking at him fixedly, and he went on with the same +interrupted enunciationas if he were biting an objectional leek. + +I have slipped into money difficulties which I can see no way out of, +unless some one who trusts me and my future will advance me a sum +without other security. I had very little fortune left when I came +here. I have no prospects of money from my own family. My expenses, in +consequence of my marriage, have been very much greater than I had +expected. The result at this moment is that it would take a thousand +pounds to clear me. I mean, to free me from the risk of having all my +goods sold in security of my largest debtas well as to pay my other +debtsand leave anything to keep us a little beforehand with our small +income. I find that it is out of the question that my wifes father +should make such an advance. That is why I mention my position toto +the only other man who may be held to have some personal connection +with my prosperity or ruin. + +Lydgate hated to hear himself. But he had spoken now, and had spoken +with unmistakable directness. Mr. Bulstrode replied without haste, but +also without hesitation. + +I am grieved, though, I confess, not surprised by this information, +Mr. Lydgate. For my own part, I regretted your alliance with my +brother-in-laws family, which has always been of prodigal habits, and +which has already been much indebted to me for sustainment in its +present position. My advice to you, Mr. Lydgate, would be, that instead +of involving yourself in further obligations, and continuing a doubtful +struggle, you should simply become a bankrupt. + +That would not improve my prospect, said Lydgate, rising and speaking +bitterly, even if it were a more agreeable thing in itself. + +It is always a trial, said Mr. Bulstrode; but trial, my dear sir, is +our portion here, and is a needed corrective. I recommend you to weigh +the advice I have given. + +Thank you, said Lydgate, not quite knowing what he said. I have +occupied you too long. Good-day. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVIII. + +What suit of grace hath Virtue to put on +If Vice shall wear as good, and do as well? +If Wrong, if Craft, if Indiscretion +Act as fair parts with ends as laudable? +Which all this mighty volume of events +The world, the universal map of deeds, +Strongly controls, and proves from all descents, +That the directest course still best succeeds. +For should not grave and learnd Experience +That looks with the eyes of all the world beside, +And with all ages holds intelligence, +Go safer than Deceit without a guide! +DANIEL: _Musophilus_. + + +That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or +betrayed in his conversation with Lydgate, had been determined in him +by some severe experience which he had gone through since the epoch of +Mr. Larchers sale, when Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and when +the banker had in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move +Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. + +His certainty that Raffles, unless he were dead, would return to +Middlemarch before long, had been justified. On Christmas Eve he had +reappeared at The Shrubs. Bulstrode was at home to receive him, and +hinder his communication with the rest of the family, but he could not +altogether hinder the circumstances of the visit from compromising +himself and alarming his wife. Raffles proved more unmanageable than he +had shown himself to be in his former appearances, his chronic state of +mental restlessness, the growing effect of habitual intemperance, +quickly shaking off every impression from what was said to him. He +insisted on staying in the house, and Bulstrode, weighing two sets of +evils, felt that this was at least not a worse alternative than his +going into the town. He kept him in his own room for the evening and +saw him to bed, Raffles all the while amusing himself with the +annoyance he was causing this decent and highly prosperous +fellow-sinner, an amusement which he facetiously expressed as sympathy +with his friends pleasure in entertaining a man who had been +serviceable to him, and who had not had all his earnings. There was a +cunning calculation under this noisy jokinga cool resolve to extract +something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this +new application of torture. But his cunning had a little overcast its +mark. + +Bulstrode was indeed more tortured than the coarse fibre of Raffles +could enable him to imagine. He had told his wife that he was simply +taking care of this wretched creature, the victim of vice, who might +otherwise injure himself; he implied, without the direct form of +falsehood, that there was a family tie which bound him to this care, +and that there were signs of mental alienation in Raffles which urged +caution. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the next +morning. In these hints he felt that he was supplying Mrs. Bulstrode +with precautionary information for his daughters and servants, and +accounting for his allowing no one but himself to enter the room even +with food and drink. But he sat in an agony of fear lest Raffles should +be overheard in his loud and plain references to past factslest Mrs. +Bulstrode should be even tempted to listen at the door. How could he +hinder her, how betray his terror by opening the door to detect her? +She was a woman of honest direct habits, and little likely to take so +low a course in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but fear was +stronger than the calculation of probabilities. + +In this way Raffles had pushed the torture too far, and produced an +effect which had not been in his plan. By showing himself hopelessly +unmanageable he had made Bulstrode feel that a strong defiance was the +only resource left. After taking Raffles to bed that night the banker +ordered his closed carriage to be ready at half-past seven the next +morning. At six oclock he had already been long dressed, and had spent +some of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting +the worst evil if in anything he had used falsity and spoken what was +not true before God. For Bulstrode shrank from a direct lie with an +intensity disproportionate to the number of his more indirect misdeeds. +But many of these misdeeds were like the subtle muscular movements +which are not taken account of in the consciousness, though they bring +about the end that we fix our mind on and desire. And it is only what +we are vividly conscious of that we can vividly imagine to be seen by +Omniscience. + +Bulstrode carried his candle to the bedside of Raffles, who was +apparently in a painful dream. He stood silent, hoping that the +presence of the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and +gently, for he feared some noise as the consequence of a too sudden +awakening. He had watched for a couple of minutes or more the +shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to end in waking, when +Raffles, with a long half-stifled moan, started up and stared round him +in terror, trembling and gasping. But he made no further noise, and +Bulstrode, setting down the candle, awaited his recovery. + +It was a quarter of an hour later before Bulstrode, with a cold +peremptoriness of manner which he had not before shown, said, I came +to call you thus early, Mr. Raffles, because I have ordered the +carriage to be ready at half-past seven, and intend myself to conduct +you as far as Ilsely, where you can either take the railway or await a +coach. Raffles was about to speak, but Bulstrode anticipated him +imperiously with the words, Be silent, sir, and hear what I have to +say. I shall supply you with money now, and I will furnish you with a +reasonable sum from time to time, on your application to me by letter; +but if you choose to present yourself here again, if you return to +Middlemarch, if you use your tongue in a manner injurious to me, you +will have to live on such fruits as your malice can bring you, without +help from me. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name: I know the +worst you can do against me, and I shall brave it if you dare to thrust +yourself upon me again. Get up, sir, and do as I order you, without +noise, or I will send for a policeman to take you off my premises, and +you may carry your stories into every pothouse in the town, but you +shall have no sixpence from me to pay your expenses there. + +Bulstrode had rarely in his life spoken with such nervous energy: he +had been deliberating on this speech and its probable effects through a +large part of the night; and though he did not trust to its ultimately +saving him from any return of Raffles, he had concluded that it was the +best throw he could make. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the +jaded man this morning: his empoisoned system at this moment quailed +before Bulstrodes cold, resolute bearing, and he was taken off quietly +in the carriage before the family breakfast time. The servants imagined +him to be a poor relation, and were not surprised that a strict man +like their master, who held his head high in the world, should be +ashamed of such a cousin and want to get rid of him. The bankers drive +of ten miles with his hated companion was a dreary beginning of the +Christmas day; but at the end of the drive, Raffles had recovered his +spirits, and parted in a contentment for which there was the good +reason that the banker had given him a hundred pounds. Various motives +urged Bulstrode to this open-handedness, but he did not himself inquire +closely into all of them. As he had stood watching Raffles in his +uneasy sleep, it had certainly entered his mind that the man had been +much shattered since the first gift of two hundred pounds. + +He had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his resolve not +to be played on any more; and had tried to penetrate Raffles with the +fact that he had shown the risks of bribing him to be quite equal to +the risks of defying him. But when, freed from his repulsive presence, +Bulstrode returned to his quiet home, he brought with him no confidence +that he had secured more than a respite. It was as if he had had a +loathsome dream, and could not shake off its images with their hateful +kindred of sensationsas if on all the pleasant surroundings of his +life a dangerous reptile had left his slimy traces. + +Who can know how much of his most inward life is made up of the +thoughts he believes other men to have about him, until that fabric of +opinion is threatened with ruin? + +Bulstrode was only the more conscious that there was a deposit of +uneasy presentiment in his wifes mind, because she carefully avoided +any allusion to it. He had been used every day to taste the flavor of +supremacy and the tribute of complete deference: and the certainty that +he was watched or measured with a hidden suspicion of his having some +discreditable secret, made his voice totter when he was speaking to +edification. Foreseeing, to men of Bulstrodes anxious temperament, is +often worse than seeing; and his imagination continually heightened the +anguish of an imminent disgrace. Yes, imminent; for if his defiance of +Raffles did not keep the man awayand though he prayed for this result +he hardly hoped for itthe disgrace was certain. In vain he said to +himself that, if permitted, it would be a divine visitation, a +chastisement, a preparation; he recoiled from the imagined burning; and +he judged that it must be more for the Divine glory that he should +escape dishonor. That recoil had at last urged him to make preparations +for quitting Middlemarch. If evil truth must be reported of him, he +would then be at a less scorching distance from the contempt of his old +neighbors; and in a new scene, where his life would not have gathered +the same wide sensibility, the tormentor, if he pursued him, would be +less formidable. To leave the place finally would, he knew, be +extremely painful to his wife, and on other grounds he would have +preferred to stay where he had struck root. Hence he made his +preparations at first in a conditional way, wishing to leave on all +sides an opening for his return after brief absence, if any favorable +intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. He was preparing +to transfer his management of the Bank, and to give up any active +control of other commercial affairs in the neighborhood, on the ground +of his failing health, but without excluding his future resumption of +such work. The measure would cause him some added expense and some +diminution of income beyond what he had already undergone from the +general depression of trade; and the Hospital presented itself as a +principal object of outlay on which he could fairly economize. + +This was the experience which had determined his conversation with +Lydgate. But at this time his arrangements had most of them gone no +farther than a stage at which he could recall them if they proved to be +unnecessary. He continually deferred the final steps; in the midst of +his fears, like many a man who is in danger of shipwreck or of being +dashed from his carriage by runaway horses, he had a clinging +impression that something would happen to hinder the worst, and that to +spoil his life by a late transplantation might be over-hastyespecially +since it was difficult to account satisfactorily to his wife for the +project of their indefinite exile from the only place where she would +like to live. + +Among the affairs Bulstrode had to care for, was the management of the +farm at Stone Court in case of his absence; and on this as well as on +all other matters connected with any houses and land he possessed in or +about Middlemarch, he had consulted Caleb Garth. Like every one else +who had business of that sort, he wanted to get the agent who was more +anxious for his employers interests than his own. With regard to Stone +Court, since Bulstrode wished to retain his hold on the stock, and to +have an arrangement by which he himself could, if he chose, resume his +favorite recreation of superintendence, Caleb had advised him not to +trust to a mere bailiff, but to let the land, stock, and implements +yearly, and take a proportionate share of the proceeds. + +May I trust to you to find me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Garth? +said Bulstrode. And will you mention to me the yearly sum which would +repay you for managing these affairs which we have discussed together? + +Ill think about it, said Caleb, in his blunt way. Ill see how I +can make it out. + +If it had not been that he had to consider Fred Vincys future, Mr. +Garth would not probably have been glad of any addition to his work, of +which his wife was always fearing an excess for him as he grew older. +But on quitting Bulstrode after that conversation, a very alluring idea +occurred to him about this said letting of Stone Court. What if +Bulstrode would agree to his placing Fred Vincy there on the +understanding that he, Caleb Garth, should be responsible for the +management? It would be an excellent schooling for Fred; he might make +a modest income there, and still have time left to get knowledge by +helping in other business. He mentioned his notion to Mrs. Garth with +such evident delight that she could not bear to chill his pleasure by +expressing her constant fear of his undertaking too much. + +The lad would be as happy as two, he said, throwing himself back in +his chair, and looking radiant, if I could tell him it was all +settled. Think; Susan! His mind had been running on that place for +years before old Featherstone died. And it would be as pretty a turn of +things as could be that he should hold the place in a good industrious +way after allby his taking to business. For its likely enough +Bulstrode might let him go on, and gradually buy the stock. He hasnt +made up his mind, I can see, whether or not he shall settle somewhere +else as a lasting thing. I never was better pleased with a notion in my +life. And then the children might be married by-and-by, Susan. + +You will not give any hint of the plan to Fred, until you are sure +that Bulstrode would agree to the plan? said Mrs. Garth, in a tone of +gentle caution. And as to marriage, Caleb, we old people need not help +to hasten it. + +Oh, I dont know, said Caleb, swinging his head aside. Marriage is a +taming thing. Fred would want less of my bit and bridle. However, I +shall say nothing till I know the ground Im treading on. I shall speak +to Bulstrode again. + +He took his earliest opportunity of doing so. Bulstrode had anything +but a warm interest in his nephew Fred Vincy, but he had a strong wish +to secure Mr. Garths services on many scattered points of business at +which he was sure to be a considerable loser, if they were under less +conscientious management. On that ground he made no objection to Mr. +Garths proposal; and there was also another reason why he was not +sorry to give a consent which was to benefit one of the Vincy family. +It was that Mrs. Bulstrode, having heard of Lydgates debts, had been +anxious to know whether her husband could not do something for poor +Rosamond, and had been much troubled on learning from him that +Lydgates affairs were not easily remediable, and that the wisest plan +was to let them take their course. Mrs. Bulstrode had then said for +the first time, I think you are always a little hard towards my +family, Nicholas. And I am sure I have no reason to deny any of my +relatives. Too worldly they may be, but no one ever had to say that +they were not respectable. + +My dear Harriet, said Mr. Bulstrode, wincing under his wifes eyes, +which were filling with tears, I have supplied your brother with a +great deal of capital. I cannot be expected to take care of his married +children. + +That seemed to be true, and Mrs. Bulstrodes remonstrance subsided into +pity for poor Rosamond, whose extravagant education she had always +foreseen the fruits of. + +But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Bulstrode felt that when he had to +talk to his wife fully about his plan of quitting Middlemarch, he +should be glad to tell her that he had made an arrangement which might +be for the good of her nephew Fred. At present he had merely mentioned +to her that he thought of shutting up The Shrubs for a few months, and +taking a house on the Southern Coast. + +Hence Mr. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that in case of +Bulstrodes departure from Middlemarch for an indefinite time, Fred +Vincy should be allowed to have the tenancy of Stone Court on the terms +proposed. + +Caleb was so elated with his hope of this neat turn being given to +things, that if his self-control had not been braced by a little +affectionate wifely scolding, he would have betrayed everything to +Mary, wanting to give the child comfort. However, he restrained +himself, and kept in strict privacy from Fred certain visits which he +was making to Stone Court, in order to look more thoroughly into the +state of the land and stock, and take a preliminary estimate. He was +certainly more eager in these visits than the probable speed of events +required him to be; but he was stimulated by a fatherly delight in +occupying his mind with this bit of probable happiness which he held in +store like a hidden birthday gift for Fred and Mary. + +But suppose the whole scheme should turn out to be a castle in the +air? said Mrs. Garth. + +Well, well, replied Caleb; the castle will tumble about nobodys +head. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIX. + +If thou hast heard a word, let it die with thee. +_Ecclesiasticus_. + + +Mr. Bulstrode was still seated in his managers room at the Bank, about +three oclock of the same day on which he had received Lydgate there, +when the clerk entered to say that his horse was waiting, and also that +Mr. Garth was outside and begged to speak with him. + +By all means, said Bulstrode; and Caleb entered. Pray sit down, Mr. +Garth, continued the banker, in his suavest tone. + +I am glad that you arrived just in time to find me here. I know you +count your minutes. + +Oh, said Caleb, gently, with a slow swing of his head on one side, as +he seated himself and laid his hat on the floor. + +He looked at the ground, leaning forward and letting his long fingers +droop between his legs, while each finger moved in succession, as if it +were sharing some thought which filled his large quiet brow. + +Mr. Bulstrode, like every one else who knew Caleb, was used to his +slowness in beginning to speak on any topic which he felt to be +important, and rather expected that he was about to recur to the buying +of some houses in Blindmans Court, for the sake of pulling them down, +as a sacrifice of property which would be well repaid by the influx of +air and light on that spot. It was by propositions of this kind that +Caleb was sometimes troublesome to his employers; but he had usually +found Bulstrode ready to meet him in projects of improvement, and they +had got on well together. When he spoke again, however, it was to say, +in rather a subdued voice + +I have just come away from Stone Court, Mr. Bulstrode. + +You found nothing wrong there, I hope, said the banker; I was there +myself yesterday. Abel has done well with the lambs this year. + +Why, yes, said Caleb, looking up gravely, there is something wronga +stranger, who is very ill, I think. He wants a doctor, and I came to +tell you of that. His name is Raffles. + +He saw the shock of his words passing through Bulstrodes frame. On +this subject the banker had thought that his fears were too constantly +on the watch to be taken by surprise; but he had been mistaken. + +Poor wretch! he said in a compassionate tone, though his lips +trembled a little. Do you know how he came there? + +I took him myself, said Caleb, quietlytook him up in my gig. He had +got down from the coach, and was walking a little beyond the turning +from the toll-house, and I overtook him. He remembered seeing me with +you once before, at Stone Court, and he asked me to take him on. I saw +he was ill: it seemed to me the right thing to do, to carry him under +shelter. And now I think you should lose no time in getting advice for +him. Caleb took up his hat from the floor as he ended, and rose slowly +from his seat. + +Certainly, said Bulstrode, whose mind was very active at this moment. +Perhaps you will yourself oblige me, Mr. Garth, by calling at Mr. +Lydgates as you passor stay! he may at this hour probably be at the +Hospital. I will first send my man on the horse there with a note this +instant, and then I will myself ride to Stone Court. + +Bulstrode quickly wrote a note, and went out himself to give the +commission to his man. When he returned, Caleb was standing as before +with one hand on the back of the chair, holding his hat with the other. +In Bulstrodes mind the dominant thought was, Perhaps Raffles only +spoke to Garth of his illness. Garth may wonder, as he must have done +before, at this disreputable fellows claiming intimacy with me; but he +will know nothing. And he is friendly to meI can be of use to him. + +He longed for some confirmation of this hopeful conjecture, but to have +asked any question as to what Raffles had said or done would have been +to betray fear. + +I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Garth, he said, in his usual +tone of politeness. My servant will be back in a few minutes, and I +shall then go myself to see what can be done for this unfortunate man. +Perhaps you had some other business with me? If so, pray be seated. + +Thank you, said Caleb, making a slight gesture with his right hand to +waive the invitation. I wish to say, Mr. Bulstrode, that I must +request you to put your business into some other hands than mine. I am +obliged to you for your handsome way of meeting meabout the letting of +Stone Court, and all other business. But I must give it up. A sharp +certainty entered like a stab into Bulstrodes soul. + +This is sudden, Mr. Garth, was all he could say at first. + +It is, said Caleb; but it is quite fixed. I must give it up. + +He spoke with a firmness which was very gentle, and yet he could see +that Bulstrode seemed to cower under that gentleness, his face looking +dried and his eyes swerving away from the glance which rested on him. +Caleb felt a deep pity for him, but he could have used no pretexts to +account for his resolve, even if they would have been of any use. + +You have been led to this, I apprehend, by some slanders concerning me +uttered by that unhappy creature, said Bulstrode, anxious now to know +the utmost. + +That is true. I cant deny that I act upon what I heard from him. + +You are a conscientious man, Mr. Gartha man, I trust, who feels +himself accountable to God. You would not wish to injure me by being +too ready to believe a slander, said Bulstrode, casting about for +pleas that might be adapted to his hearers mind. That is a poor +reason for giving up a connection which I think I may say will be +mutually beneficial. + +I would injure no man if I could help it, said Caleb; even if I +thought God winked at it. I hope I should have a feeling for my +fellow-creature. But, sirI am obliged to believe that this Raffles has +told me the truth. And I cant be happy in working with you, or +profiting by you. It hurts my mind. I must beg you to seek another +agent. + +Very well, Mr. Garth. But I must at least claim to know the worst that +he has told you. I must know what is the foul speech that I am liable +to be the victim of, said Bulstrode, a certain amount of anger +beginning to mingle with his humiliation before this quiet man who +renounced his benefits. + +Thats needless, said Caleb, waving his hand, bowing his head +slightly, and not swerving from the tone which had in it the merciful +intention to spare this pitiable man. What he has said to me will +never pass from my lips, unless something now unknown forces it from +me. If you led a harmful life for gain, and kept others out of their +rights by deceit, to get the more for yourself, I dare say you +repentyou would like to go back, and cant: that must be a bitter +thingCaleb paused a moment and shook his headit is not for me to +make your life harder to you. + +But you doyou do make it harder to me, said Bulstrode constrained +into a genuine, pleading cry. You make it harder to me by turning your +back on me. + +That Im forced to do, said Caleb, still more gently, lifting up his +hand. I am sorry. I dont judge you and say, he is wicked, and I am +righteous. God forbid. I dont know everything. A man may do wrong, and +his will may rise clear out of it, though he cant get his life clear. +Thats a bad punishment. If it is so with you,well, Im very sorry for +you. But I have that feeling inside me, that I cant go on working with +you. Thats all, Mr. Bulstrode. Everything else is buried, so far as my +will goes. And I wish you good-day. + +One moment, Mr. Garth! said Bulstrode, hurriedly. I may trust then +to your solemn assurance that you will not repeat either to man or +woman whateven if it have any degree of truth in itis yet a malicious +representation? Calebs wrath was stirred, and he said, indignantly + +Why should I have said it if I didnt mean it? I am in no fear of you. +Such tales as that will never tempt my tongue. + +Excuse meI am agitatedI am the victim of this abandoned man. + +Stop a bit! you have got to consider whether you didnt help to make +him worse, when you profited by his vices. + +You are wronging me by too readily believing him, said Bulstrode, +oppressed, as by a nightmare, with the inability to deny flatly what +Raffles might have said; and yet feeling it an escape that Caleb had +not so stated it to him as to ask for that flat denial. + +No, said Caleb, lifting his hand deprecatingly; I am ready to +believe better, when better is proved. I rob you of no good chance. As +to speaking, I hold it a crime to expose a mans sin unless Im clear +it must be done to save the innocent. That is my way of thinking, Mr. +Bulstrode, and what I say, Ive no need to swear. I wish you good-day. + +Some hours later, when he was at home, Caleb said to his wife, +incidentally, that he had had some little differences with Bulstrode, +and that in consequence, he had given up all notion of taking Stone +Court, and indeed had resigned doing further business for him. + +He was disposed to interfere too much, was he? said Mrs. Garth, +imagining that her husband had been touched on his sensitive point, and +not been allowed to do what he thought right as to materials and modes +of work. + +Oh, said Caleb, bowing his head and waving his hand gravely. And Mrs. +Garth knew that this was a sign of his not intending to speak further +on the subject. + +As for Bulstrode, he had almost immediately mounted his horse and set +off for Stone Court, being anxious to arrive there before Lydgate. + +His mind was crowded with images and conjectures, which were a language +to his hopes and fears, just as we hear tones from the vibrations which +shake our whole system. The deep humiliation with which he had winced +under Caleb Garths knowledge of his past and rejection of his +patronage, alternated with and almost gave way to the sense of safety +in the fact that Garth, and no other, had been the man to whom Raffles +had spoken. It seemed to him a sort of earnest that Providence intended +his rescue from worse consequences; the way being thus left open for +the hope of secrecy. That Raffles should be afflicted with illness, +that he should have been led to Stone Court rather than +elsewhereBulstrodes heart fluttered at the vision of probabilities +which these events conjured up. If it should turn out that he was freed +from all danger of disgraceif he could breathe in perfect libertyhis +life should be more consecrated than it had ever been before. He +mentally lifted up this vow as if it would urge the result he longed +forhe tried to believe in the potency of that prayerful resolutionits +potency to determine death. He knew that he ought to say, Thy will be +done; and he said it often. But the intense desire remained that the +will of God might be the death of that hated man. + +Yet when he arrived at Stone Court he could not see the change in +Raffles without a shock. But for his pallor and feebleness, Bulstrode +would have called the change in him entirely mental. Instead of his +loud tormenting mood, he showed an intense, vague terror, and seemed to +deprecate Bulstrodes anger, because the money was all gonehe had been +robbedit had half of it been taken from him. He had only come here +because he was ill and somebody was hunting himsomebody was after him, +he had told nobody anything, he had kept his mouth shut. Bulstrode, not +knowing the significance of these symptoms, interpreted this new +nervous susceptibility into a means of alarming Raffles into true +confessions, and taxed him with falsehood in saying that he had not +told anything, since he had just told the man who took him up in his +gig and brought him to Stone Court. Raffles denied this with solemn +adjurations; the fact being that the links of consciousness were +interrupted in him, and that his minute terror-stricken narrative to +Caleb Garth had been delivered under a set of visionary impulses which +had dropped back into darkness. + +Bulstrodes heart sank again at this sign that he could get no grasp +over the wretched mans mind, and that no word of Raffles could be +trusted as to the fact which he most wanted to know, namely, whether or +not he had really kept silence to every one in the neighborhood except +Caleb Garth. The housekeeper had told him without the least constraint +of manner that since Mr. Garth left, Raffles had asked her for beer, +and after that had not spoken, seeming very ill. On that side it might +be concluded that there had been no betrayal. Mrs. Abel thought, like +the servants at The Shrubs, that the strange man belonged to the +unpleasant kin who are among the troubles of the rich; she had at +first referred the kinship to Mr. Rigg, and where there was property +left, the buzzing presence of such large blue-bottles seemed natural +enough. How he could be kin to Bulstrode as well was not so clear, +but Mrs. Abel agreed with her husband that there was no knowing, a +proposition which had a great deal of mental food for her, so that she +shook her head over it without further speculation. + +In less than an hour Lydgate arrived. Bulstrode met him outside the +wainscoted parlor, where Raffles was, and said + +I have called you in, Mr. Lydgate, to an unfortunate man who was once +in my employment, many years ago. Afterwards he went to America, and +returned I fear to an idle dissolute life. Being destitute, he has a +claim on me. He was slightly connected with Rigg, the former owner of +this place, and in consequence found his way here. I believe he is +seriously ill: apparently his mind is affected. I feel bound to do the +utmost for him. + +Lydgate, who had the remembrance of his last conversation with +Bulstrode strongly upon him, was not disposed to say an unnecessary +word to him, and bowed slightly in answer to this account; but just +before entering the room he turned automatically and said, What is his +name?to know names being as much a part of the medical mans +accomplishment as of the practical politicians. + +Raffles, John Raffles, said Bulstrode, who hoped that whatever became +of Raffles, Lydgate would never know any more of him. + +When he had thoroughly examined and considered the patient, Lydgate +ordered that he should go to bed, and be kept there in as complete +quiet as possible, and then went with Bulstrode into another room. + +It is a serious case, I apprehend, said the banker, before Lydgate +began to speak. + +Noand yes, said Lydgate, half dubiously. It is difficult to decide +as to the possible effect of long-standing complications; but the man +had a robust constitution to begin with. I should not expect this +attack to be fatal, though of course the system is in a ticklish state. +He should be well watched and attended to. + +I will remain here myself, said Bulstrode. Mrs. Abel and her husband +are inexperienced. I can easily remain here for the night, if you will +oblige me by taking a note for Mrs. Bulstrode. + +I should think that is hardly necessary, said Lydgate. He seems tame +and terrified enough. He might become more unmanageable. But there is a +man hereis there not? + +I have more than once stayed here a few nights for the sake of +seclusion, said Bulstrode, indifferently; I am quite disposed to do +so now. Mrs. Abel and her husband can relieve or aid me, if necessary. + +Very well. Then I need give my directions only to you, said Lydgate, +not feeling surprised at a little peculiarity in Bulstrode. + +You think, then, that the case is hopeful? said Bulstrode, when +Lydgate had ended giving his orders. + +Unless there turn out to be further complications, such as I have not +at present detectedyes, said Lydgate. He may pass on to a worse +stage; but I should not wonder if he got better in a few days, by +adhering to the treatment I have prescribed. There must be firmness. +Remember, if he calls for liquors of any sort, not to give them to him. +In my opinion, men in his condition are oftener killed by treatment +than by the disease. Still, new symptoms may arise. I shall come again +to-morrow morning. + +After waiting for the note to be carried to Mrs. Bulstrode, Lydgate +rode away, forming no conjectures, in the first instance, about the +history of Raffles, but rehearsing the whole argument, which had lately +been much stirred by the publication of Dr. Wares abundant experience +in America, as to the right way of treating cases of alcoholic +poisoning such as this. Lydgate, when abroad, had already been +interested in this question: he was strongly convinced against the +prevalent practice of allowing alcohol and persistently administering +large doses of opium; and he had repeatedly acted on this conviction +with a favorable result. + +The man is in a diseased state, he thought, but theres a good deal +of wear in him still. I suppose he is an object of charity to +Bulstrode. It is curious what patches of hardness and tenderness lie +side by side in mens dispositions. Bulstrode seems the most +unsympathetic fellow I ever saw about some people, and yet he has taken +no end of trouble, and spent a great deal of money, on benevolent +objects. I suppose he has some test by which he finds out whom Heaven +cares forhe has made up his mind that it doesnt care for me. + +This streak of bitterness came from a plenteous source, and kept +widening in the current of his thought as he neared Lowick Gate. He had +not been there since his first interview with Bulstrode in the morning, +having been found at the Hospital by the bankers messenger; and for +the first time he was returning to his home without the vision of any +expedient in the background which left him a hope of raising money +enough to deliver him from the coming destitution of everything which +made his married life tolerableeverything which saved him and Rosamond +from that bare isolation in which they would be forced to recognize how +little of a comfort they could be to each other. It was more bearable +to do without tenderness for himself than to see that his own +tenderness could make no amends for the lack of other things to her. +The sufferings of his own pride from humiliations past and to come were +keen enough, yet they were hardly distinguishable to himself from that +more acute pain which dominated themthe pain of foreseeing that +Rosamond would come to regard him chiefly as the cause of +disappointment and unhappiness to her. He had never liked the +makeshifts of poverty, and they had never before entered into his +prospects for himself; but he was beginning now to imagine how two +creatures who loved each other, and had a stock of thoughts in common, +might laugh over their shabby furniture, and their calculations how far +they could afford butter and eggs. But the glimpse of that poetry +seemed as far off from him as the carelessness of the golden age; in +poor Rosamonds mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look +small in. He got down from his horse in a very sad mood, and went into +the house, not expecting to be cheered except by his dinner, and +reflecting that before the evening closed it would be wise to tell +Rosamond of his application to Bulstrode and its failure. It would be +well not to lose time in preparing her for the worst. + +But his dinner waited long for him before he was able to eat it. For on +entering he found that Dovers agent had already put a man in the +house, and when he asked where Mrs. Lydgate was, he was told that she +was in her bedroom. He went up and found her stretched on the bed pale +and silent, without an answer even in her face to any word or look of +his. He sat down by the bed and leaning over her said with almost a cry +of prayer + +Forgive me for this misery, my poor Rosamond! Let us only love one +another. + +She looked at him silently, still with the blank despair on her face; +but then the tears began to fill her blue eyes, and her lip trembled. +The strong man had had too much to bear that day. He let his head fall +beside hers and sobbed. + +He did not hinder her from going to her father early in the morningit +seemed now that he ought not to hinder her from doing as she pleased. +In half an hour she came back, and said that papa and mamma wished her +to go and stay with them while things were in this miserable state. +Papa said he could do nothing about the debtif he paid this, there +would be half-a-dozen more. She had better come back home again till +Lydgate had got a comfortable home for her. Do you object, Tertius? + +Do as you like, said Lydgate. But things are not coming to a crisis +immediately. There is no hurry. + +I should not go till to-morrow, said Rosamond; I shall want to pack +my clothes. + +Oh, I would wait a little longer than to-morrowthere is no knowing +what may happen, said Lydgate, with bitter irony. I may get my neck +broken, and that may make things easier to you. + +It was Lydgates misfortune and Rosamonds too, that his tenderness +towards her, which was both an emotional prompting and a +well-considered resolve, was inevitably interrupted by these outbursts +of indignation either ironical or remonstrant. She thought them totally +unwarranted, and the repulsion which this exceptional severity excited +in her was in danger of making the more persistent tenderness +unacceptable. + +I see you do not wish me to go, she said, with chill mildness; why +can you not say so, without that kind of violence? I shall stay until +you request me to do otherwise. + +Lydgate said no more, but went out on his rounds. He felt bruised and +shattered, and there was a dark line under his eyes which Rosamond had +not seen before. She could not bear to look at him. Tertius had a way +of taking things which made them a great deal worse for her. + + + + +CHAPTER LXX. + +Our deeds still travel with us from afar, +And what we have been makes us what we are. + + +Bulstrodes first object after Lydgate had left Stone Court was to +examine Raffless pockets, which he imagined were sure to carry signs +in the shape of hotel-bills of the places he had stopped in, if he had +not told the truth in saying that he had come straight from Liverpool +because he was ill and had no money. There were various bills crammed +into his pocketbook, but none of a later date than Christmas at any +other place, except one, which bore date that morning. This was +crumpled up with a hand-bill about a horse-fair in one of his +tail-pockets, and represented the cost of three days stay at an inn at +Bilkley, where the fair was helda town at least forty miles from +Middlemarch. The bill was heavy, and since Raffles had no luggage with +him, it seemed probable that he had left his portmanteau behind in +payment, in order to save money for his travelling fare; for his purse +was empty, and he had only a couple of sixpences and some loose pence +in his pockets. + +Bulstrode gathered a sense of safety from these indications that +Raffles had really kept at a distance from Middlemarch since his +memorable visit at Christmas. At a distance and among people who were +strangers to Bulstrode, what satisfaction could there be to Raffless +tormenting, self-magnifying vein in telling old scandalous stories +about a Middlemarch banker? And what harm if he did talk? The chief +point now was to keep watch over him as long as there was any danger of +that intelligible raving, that unaccountable impulse to tell, which +seemed to have acted towards Caleb Garth; and Bulstrode felt much +anxiety lest some such impulse should come over him at the sight of +Lydgate. He sat up alone with him through the night, only ordering the +housekeeper to lie down in her clothes, so as to be ready when he +called her, alleging his own indisposition to sleep, and his anxiety to +carry out the doctors orders. He did carry them out faithfully, +although Raffles was incessantly asking for brandy, and declaring that +he was sinking awaythat the earth was sinking away from under him. He +was restless and sleepless, but still quailing and manageable. On the +offer of the food ordered by Lydgate, which he refused, and the denial +of other things which he demanded, he seemed to concentrate all his +terror on Bulstrode, imploringly deprecating his anger, his revenge on +him by starvation, and declaring with strong oaths that he had never +told any mortal a word against him. Even this Bulstrode felt that he +would not have liked Lydgate to hear; but a more alarming sign of +fitful alternation in his delirium was, that in-the morning twilight +Raffles suddenly seemed to imagine a doctor present, addressing him and +declaring that Bulstrode wanted to starve him to death out of revenge +for telling, when he never had told. + +Bulstrodes native imperiousness and strength of determination served +him well. This delicate-looking man, himself nervously perturbed, found +the needed stimulus in his strenuous circumstances, and through that +difficult night and morning, while he had the air of an animated corpse +returned to movement without warmth, holding the mastery by its chill +impassibility, his mind was intensely at work thinking of what he had +to guard against and what would win him security. Whatever prayers he +might lift up, whatever statements he might inwardly make of this mans +wretched spiritual condition, and the duty he himself was under to +submit to the punishment divinely appointed for him rather than to wish +for evil to anotherthrough all this effort to condense words into a +solid mental state, there pierced and spread with irresistible +vividness the images of the events he desired. And in the train of +those images came their apology. He could not but see the death of +Raffles, and see in it his own deliverance. What was the removal of +this wretched creature? He was impenitentbut were not public criminals +impenitent?yet the law decided on their fate. Should Providence in +this case award death, there was no sin in contemplating death as the +desirable issueif he kept his hands from hastening itif he +scrupulously did what was prescribed. Even here there might be a +mistake: human prescriptions were fallible things: Lydgate had said +that treatment had hastened death,why not his own method of treatment? +But of course intention was everything in the question of right and +wrong. + +And Bulstrode set himself to keep his intention separate from his +desire. He inwardly declared that he intended to obey orders. Why +should he have got into any argument about the validity of these +orders? It was only the common trick of desirewhich avails itself of +any irrelevant scepticism, finding larger room for itself in all +uncertainty about effects, in every obscurity that looks like the +absence of law. Still, he did obey the orders. + +His anxieties continually glanced towards Lydgate, and his remembrance +of what had taken place between them the morning before was accompanied +with sensibilities which had not been roused at all during the actual +scene. He had then cared but little about Lydgates painful impressions +with regard to the suggested change in the Hospital, or about the +disposition towards himself which what he held to be his justifiable +refusal of a rather exorbitant request might call forth. He recurred to +the scene now with a perception that he had probably made Lydgate his +enemy, and with an awakened desire to propitiate him, or rather to +create in him a strong sense of personal obligation. He regretted that +he had not at once made even an unreasonable money-sacrifice. For in +case of unpleasant suspicions, or even knowledge gathered from the +raving of Raffles, Bulstrode would have felt that he had a defence in +Lydgates mind by having conferred a momentous benefit on him. But the +regret had perhaps come too late. + +Strange, piteous conflict in the soul of this unhappy man, who had +longed for years to be better than he waswho had taken his selfish +passions into discipline and clad them in severe robes, so that he had +walked with them as a devout choir, till now that a terror had risen +among them, and they could chant no longer, but threw out their common +cries for safety. + +It was nearly the middle of the day before Lydgate arrived: he had +meant to come earlier, but had been detained, he said; and his +shattered looks were noticed by Balstrode. But he immediately threw +himself into the consideration of the patient, and inquired strictly +into all that had occurred. Raffles was worse, would take hardly any +food, was persistently wakeful and restlessly raving; but still not +violent. Contrary to Bulstrodes alarmed expectation, he took little +notice of Lydgates presence, and continued to talk or murmur +incoherently. + +What do you think of him? said Bulstrode, in private. + +The symptoms are worse. + +You are less hopeful? + +No; I still think he may come round. Are you going to stay here +yourself? said Lydgate, looking at Bulstrode with an abrupt question, +which made him uneasy, though in reality it was not due to any +suspicious conjecture. + +Yes, I think so, said Bulstrode, governing himself and speaking with +deliberation. Mrs. Bulstrode is advised of the reasons which detain +me. Mrs. Abel and her husband are not experienced enough to be left +quite alone, and this kind of responsibility is scarcely included in +their service of me. You have some fresh instructions, I presume. + +The chief new instruction that Lydgate had to give was on the +administration of extremely moderate doses of opium, in case of the +sleeplessness continuing after several hours. He had taken the +precaution of bringing opium in his pocket, and he gave minute +directions to Bulstrode as to the doses, and the point at which they +should cease. He insisted on the risk of not ceasing; and repeated his +order that no alcohol should be given. + +From what I see of the case, he ended, narcotism is the only thing I +should be much afraid of. He may wear through even without much food. +Theres a good deal of strength in him. + +You look ill yourself, Mr. Lydgatea most unusual, I may say +unprecedented thing in my knowledge of you, said Bulstrode, showing a +solicitude as unlike his indifference the day before, as his present +recklessness about his own fatigue was unlike his habitual +self-cherishing anxiety. I fear you are harassed. + +Yes, I am, said Lydgate, brusquely, holding his hat, and ready to go. + +Something new, I fear, said Bulstrode, inquiringly. Pray be seated. + +No, thank you, said Lydgate, with some hauteur. I mentioned to you +yesterday what was the state of my affairs. There is nothing to add, +except that the execution has since then been actually put into my +house. One can tell a good deal of trouble in a short sentence. I will +say good morning. + +Stay, Mr. Lydgate, stay, said Bulstrode; I have been reconsidering +this subject. I was yesterday taken by surprise, and saw it +superficially. Mrs. Bulstrode is anxious for her niece, and I myself +should grieve at a calamitous change in your position. Claims on me are +numerous, but on reconsideration, I esteem it right that I should incur +a small sacrifice rather than leave you unaided. You said, I think, +that a thousand pounds would suffice entirely to free you from your +burthens, and enable you to recover a firm stand? + +Yes, said Lydgate, a great leap of joy within him surmounting every +other feeling; that would pay all my debts, and leave me a little on +hand. I could set about economizing in our way of living. And by-and-by +my practice might look up. + +If you will wait a moment, Mr. Lydgate, I will draw a check to that +amount. I am aware that help, to be effectual in these cases, should be +thorough. + +While Bulstrode wrote, Lydgate turned to the window thinking of his +homethinking of his life with its good start saved from frustration, +its good purposes still unbroken. + +You can give me a note of hand for this, Mr. Lydgate, said the +banker, advancing towards him with the check. And by-and-by, I hope, +you may be in circumstances gradually to repay me. Meanwhile, I have +pleasure in thinking that you will be released from further +difficulty. + +I am deeply obliged to you, said Lydgate. You have restored to me +the prospect of working with some happiness and some chance of good. + +It appeared to him a very natural movement in Bulstrode that he should +have reconsidered his refusal: it corresponded with the more munificent +side of his character. But as he put his hack into a canter, that he +might get the sooner home, and tell the good news to Rosamond, and get +cash at the bank to pay over to Dovers agent, there crossed his mind, +with an unpleasant impression, as from a dark-winged flight of evil +augury across his vision, the thought of that contrast in himself which +a few months had broughtthat he should be overjoyed at being under a +strong personal obligationthat he should be overjoyed at getting money +for himself from Bulstrode. + +The banker felt that he had done something to nullify one cause of +uneasiness, and yet he was scarcely the easier. He did not measure the +quantity of diseased motive which had made him wish for Lydgates +good-will, but the quantity was none the less actively there, like an +irritating agent in his blood. A man vows, and yet will not cast away +the means of breaking his vow. Is it that he distinctly means to break +it? Not at all; but the desires which tend to break it are at work in +him dimly, and make their way into his imagination, and relax his +muscles in the very moments when he is telling himself over again the +reasons for his vow. Raffles, recovering quickly, returning to the free +use of his odious powershow could Bulstrode wish for that? Raffles +dead was the image that brought release, and indirectly he prayed for +that way of release, beseeching that, if it were possible, the rest of +his days here below might be freed from the threat of an ignominy which +would break him utterly as an instrument of Gods service. Lydgates +opinion was not on the side of promise that this prayer would be +fulfilled; and as the day advanced, Bulstrode felt himself getting +irritated at the persistent life in this man, whom he would fain have +seen sinking into the silence of death: imperious will stirred +murderous impulses towards this brute life, over which will, by itself, +had no power. He said inwardly that he was getting too much worn; he +would not sit up with the patient to-night, but leave him to Mrs. Abel, +who, if necessary, could call her husband. + +At six oclock, Raffles, having had only fitful perturbed snatches of +sleep, from which he waked with fresh restlessness and perpetual cries +that he was sinking away, Bulstrode began to administer the opium +according to Lydgates directions. At the end of half an hour or more +he called Mrs. Abel and told her that he found himself unfit for +further watching. He must now consign the patient to her care; and he +proceeded to repeat to her Lydgates directions as to the quantity of +each dose. Mrs. Abel had not before known anything of Lydgates +prescriptions; she had simply prepared and brought whatever Bulstrode +ordered, and had done what he pointed out to her. She began now to ask +what else she should do besides administering the opium. + +Nothing at present, except the offer of the soup or the soda-water: +you can come to me for further directions. Unless there is any +important change, I shall not come into the room again to-night. You +will ask your husband for help if necessary. I must go to bed early. + +Youve much need, sir, Im sure, said Mrs. Abel, and to take +something more strengthening than what youve done. + +Bulstrode went away now without anxiety as to what Raffles might say in +his raving, which had taken on a muttering incoherence not likely to +create any dangerous belief. At any rate he must risk this. He went +down into the wainscoted parlor first, and began to consider whether he +would not have his horse saddled and go home by the moonlight, and give +up caring for earthly consequences. Then, he wished that he had begged +Lydgate to come again that evening. Perhaps he might deliver a +different opinion, and think that Raffles was getting into a less +hopeful state. Should he send for Lydgate? If Raffles were really +getting worse, and slowly dying, Bulstrode felt that he could go to bed +and sleep in gratitude to Providence. But was he worse? Lydgate might +come and simply say that he was going on as he expected, and predict +that he would by-and-by fall into a good sleep, and get well. What was +the use of sending for him? Bulstrode shrank from that result. No ideas +or opinions could hinder him from seeing the one probability to be, +that Raffles recovered would be just the same man as before, with his +strength as a tormentor renewed, obliging him to drag away his wife to +spend her years apart from her friends and native place, carrying an +alienating suspicion against him in her heart. + +He had sat an hour and a half in this conflict by the firelight only, +when a sudden thought made him rise and light the bed-candle, which he +had brought down with him. The thought was, that he had not told Mrs. +Abel when the doses of opium must cease. + +He took hold of the candlestick, but stood motionless for a long while. +She might already have given him more than Lydgate had prescribed. But +it was excusable in him, that he should forget part of an order, in his +present wearied condition. He walked up-stairs, candle in hand, not +knowing whether he should straightway enter his own room and go to bed, +or turn to the patients room and rectify his omission. He paused in +the passage, with his face turned towards Raffless room, and he could +hear him moaning and murmuring. He was not asleep, then. Who could know +that Lydgates prescription would not be better disobeyed than +followed, since there was still no sleep? + +He turned into his own room. Before he had quite undressed, Mrs. Abel +rapped at the door; he opened it an inch, so that he could hear her +speak low. + +If you please, sir, should I have no brandy nor nothing to give the +poor creetur? He feels sinking away, and nothing else will he +swallerand but little strength in it, if he didonly the opium. And he +says more and more hes sinking down through the earth. + +To her surprise, Mr. Bulstrode did not answer. A struggle was going on +within him. + +I think he must die for want o support, if he goes on in that way. +When I nursed my poor master, Mr. Robisson, I had to give him port-wine +and brandy constant, and a big glass at a time, added Mrs. Abel, with +a touch of remonstrance in her tone. + +But again Mr. Bulstrode did not answer immediately, and she continued, +Its not a time to spare when people are at deaths door, nor would +you wish it, sir, Im sure. Else I should give him our own bottle o +rum as we keep by us. But a sitter-up so as youve been, and doing +everything as laid in your power + +Here a key was thrust through the inch of doorway, and Mr. Bulstrode +said huskily, That is the key of the wine-cooler. You will find plenty +of brandy there. + +Early in the morningabout sixMr. Bulstrode rose and spent some time +in prayer. Does any one suppose that private prayer is necessarily +candidnecessarily goes to the roots of action? Private prayer is +inaudible speech, and speech is representative: who can represent +himself just as he is, even in his own reflections? Bulstrode had not +yet unravelled in his thought the confused promptings of the last +four-and-twenty hours. + +He listened in the passage, and could hear hard stertorous breathing. +Then he walked out in the garden, and looked at the early rime on the +grass and fresh spring leaves. When he re-entered the house, he felt +startled at the sight of Mrs. Abel. + +How is your patientasleep, I think? he said, with an attempt at +cheerfulness in his tone. + +Hes gone very deep, sir, said Mrs. Abel. He went off gradual +between three and four oclock. Would you please to go and look at him? +I thought it no harm to leave him. My mans gone afield, and the little +girls seeing to the kettles. + +Bulstrode went up. At a glance he knew that Raffles was not in the +sleep which brings revival, but in the sleep which streams deeper and +deeper into the gulf of death. + +He looked round the room and saw a bottle with some brandy in it, and +the almost empty opium phial. He put the phial out of sight, and +carried the brandy-bottle down-stairs with him, locking it again in the +wine-cooler. + +While breakfasting he considered whether he should ride to Middlemarch +at once, or wait for Lydgates arrival. He decided to wait, and told +Mrs. Abel that she might go about her workhe could watch in the +bed-chamber. + +As he sat there and beheld the enemy of his peace going irrevocably +into silence, he felt more at rest than he had done for many months. +His conscience was soothed by the enfolding wing of secrecy, which +seemed just then like an angel sent down for his relief. He drew out +his pocket-book to review various memoranda there as to the +arrangements he had projected and partly carried out in the prospect of +quitting Middlemarch, and considered how far he would let them stand or +recall them, now that his absence would be brief. Some economies which +he felt desirable might still find a suitable occasion in his temporary +withdrawal from management, and he hoped still that Mrs. Casaubon would +take a large share in the expenses of the Hospital. In that way the +moments passed, until a change in the stertorous breathing was marked +enough to draw his attention wholly to the bed, and forced him to think +of the departing life, which had once been subservient to his ownwhich +he had once been glad to find base enough for him to act on as he +would. It was his gladness then which impelled him now to be glad that +the life was at an end. + +And who could say that the death of Raffles had been hastened? Who knew +what would have saved him? + +Lydgate arrived at half-past ten, in time to witness the final pause of +the breath. When he entered the room Bulstrode observed a sudden +expression in his face, which was not so much surprise as a recognition +that he had not judged correctly. He stood by the bed in silence for +some time, with his eyes turned on the dying man, but with that subdued +activity of expression which showed that he was carrying on an inward +debate. + +When did this change begin? said he, looking at Bulstrode. + +I did not watch by him last night, said Bulstrode. I was over-worn, +and left him under Mrs. Abels care. She said that he sank into sleep +between three and four oclock. When I came in before eight he was +nearly in this condition. + +Lydgate did not ask another question, but watched in silence until he +said, Its all over. + +This morning Lydgate was in a state of recovered hope and freedom. He +had set out on his work with all his old animation, and felt himself +strong enough to bear all the deficiencies of his married life. And he +was conscious that Bulstrode had been a benefactor to him. But he was +uneasy about this case. He had not expected it to terminate as it had +done. Yet he hardly knew how to put a question on the subject to +Bulstrode without appearing to insult him; and if he examined the +housekeeperwhy, the man was dead. There seemed to be no use in +implying that somebodys ignorance or imprudence had killed him. And +after all, he himself might be wrong. + +He and Bulstrode rode back to Middlemarch together, talking of many +thingschiefly cholera and the chances of the Reform Bill in the House +of Lords, and the firm resolve of the political Unions. Nothing was +said about Raffles, except that Bulstrode mentioned the necessity of +having a grave for him in Lowick churchyard, and observed that, so far +as he knew, the poor man had no connections, except Rigg, whom he had +stated to be unfriendly towards him. + +On returning home Lydgate had a visit from Mr. Farebrother. The Vicar +had not been in the town the day before, but the news that there was an +execution in Lydgates house had got to Lowick by the evening, having +been carried by Mr. Spicer, shoemaker and parish-clerk, who had it from +his brother, the respectable bell-hanger in Lowick Gate. Since that +evening when Lydgate had come down from the billiard room with Fred +Vincy, Mr. Farebrothers thoughts about him had been rather gloomy. +Playing at the Green Dragon once or oftener might have been a trifle in +another man; but in Lydgate it was one of several signs that he was +getting unlike his former self. He was beginning to do things for which +he had formerly even an excessive scorn. Whatever certain +dissatisfactions in marriage, which some silly tinklings of gossip had +given him hints of, might have to do with this change, Mr. Farebrother +felt sure that it was chiefly connected with the debts which were being +more and more distinctly reported, and he began to fear that any notion +of Lydgates having resources or friends in the background must be +quite illusory. The rebuff he had met with in his first attempt to win +Lydgates confidence, disinclined him to a second; but this news of the +execution being actually in the house, determined the Vicar to overcome +his reluctance. + +Lydgate had just dismissed a poor patient, in whom he was much +interested, and he came forward to put out his handwith an open +cheerfulness which surprised Mr. Farebrother. Could this too be a proud +rejection of sympathy and help? Never mind; the sympathy and help +should be offered. + +How are you, Lydgate? I came to see you because I had heard something +which made me anxious about you, said the Vicar, in the tone of a good +brother, only that there was no reproach in it. They were both seated +by this time, and Lydgate answered immediately + +I think I know what you mean. You had heard that there was an +execution in the house? + +Yes; is it true? + +It was true, said Lydgate, with an air of freedom, as if he did not +mind talking about the affair now. But the danger is over; the debt is +paid. I am out of my difficulties now: I shall be freed from debts, and +able, I hope, to start afresh on a better plan. + +I am very thankful to hear it, said the Vicar, falling back in his +chair, and speaking with that low-toned quickness which often follows +the removal of a load. I like that better than all the news in the +Times. I confess I came to you with a heavy heart. + +Thank you for coming, said Lydgate, cordially. I can enjoy the +kindness all the more because I am happier. I have certainly been a +good deal crushed. Im afraid I shall find the bruises still painful +by-and by, he added, smiling rather sadly; but just now I can only +feel that the torture-screw is off. + +Mr. Farebrother was silent for a moment, and then said earnestly, My +dear fellow, let me ask you one question. Forgive me if I take a +liberty. + +I dont believe you will ask anything that ought to offend me. + +Thenthis is necessary to set my heart quite at restyou have nothave +you?in order to pay your debts, incurred another debt which may harass +you worse hereafter? + +No, said Lydgate, coloring slightly. There is no reason why I should +not tell yousince the fact is sothat the person to whom I am indebted +is Bulstrode. He has made me a very handsome advancea thousand +poundsand he can afford to wait for repayment. + +Well, that is generous, said Mr. Farebrother, compelling himself to +approve of the man whom he disliked. His delicate feeling shrank from +dwelling even in his thought on the fact that he had always urged +Lydgate to avoid any personal entanglement with Bulstrode. He added +immediately, And Bulstrode must naturally feel an interest in your +welfare, after you have worked with him in a way which has probably +reduced your income instead of adding to it. I am glad to think that he +has acted accordingly. + +Lydgate felt uncomfortable under these kindly suppositions. They made +more distinct within him the uneasy consciousness which had shown its +first dim stirrings only a few hours before, that Bulstrodes motives +for his sudden beneficence following close upon the chillest +indifference might be merely selfish. He let the kindly suppositions +pass. He could not tell the history of the loan, but it was more +vividly present with him than ever, as well as the fact which the Vicar +delicately ignoredthat this relation of personal indebtedness to +Bulstrode was what he had once been most resolved to avoid. + +He began, instead of answering, to speak of his projected economies, +and of his having come to look at his life from a different point of +view. + +I shall set up a surgery, he said. I really think I made a mistaken +effort in that respect. And if Rosamond will not mind, I shall take an +apprentice. I dont like these things, but if one carries them out +faithfully they are not really lowering. I have had a severe galling to +begin with: that will make the small rubs seem easy. + +Poor Lydgate! the if Rosamond will not mind, which had fallen from +him involuntarily as part of his thought, was a significant mark of the +yoke he bore. But Mr. Farebrother, whose hopes entered strongly into +the same current with Lydgates, and who knew nothing about him that +could now raise a melancholy presentiment, left him with affectionate +congratulation. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXI. + +_Clown_. . . . Twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, +you have a delight to sit, have you not? +_Froth_. I have so: because it is an open room, and good for winter. +_Clo_. Why, very well then: I hope here be truths. +_Measure for Measure_. + + +Five days after the death of Raffles, Mr. Bambridge was standing at his +leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green +Dragon. He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he had only just +come out of the house, and any human figure standing at ease under the +archway in the early afternoon was as certain to attract companionship +as a pigeon which has found something worth pecking at. In this case +there was no material object to feed upon, but the eye of reason saw a +probability of mental sustenance in the shape of gossip. Mr. Hopkins, +the meek-mannered draper opposite, was the first to act on this inward +vision, being the more ambitious of a little masculine talk because his +customers were chiefly women. Mr. Bambridge was rather curt to the +draper, feeling that Hopkins was of course glad to talk to _him_, but +that he was not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins. Soon, +however, there was a small cluster of more important listeners, who +were either deposited from the passers-by, or had sauntered to the spot +expressly to see if there were anything going on at the Green Dragon; +and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive +things about the fine studs he had been seeing and the purchases he had +made on a journey in the north from which he had just returned. +Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him anything +to cut out a blood mare, a bay, rising four, which was to be seen at +Doncaster if they chose to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge would +gratify them by being shot from here to Hereford. Also, a pair of +blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly to his +mind a pair which he had sold to Faulkner in 19, for a hundred +guineas, and which Faulkner had sold for a hundred and sixty two months +laterany gent who could disprove this statement being offered the +privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the +exercise made his throat dry. + +When the discourse was at this point of animation, came up Mr. Frank +Hawley. He was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the +Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing +Bambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to +ask the horsedealer whether he had found the first-rate gig-horse which +he had engaged to look for. Mr. Hawley was requested to wait until he +had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to +a hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to +be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. Mr. Hawley, standing with his +back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the gray and +seeing it tried, when a horseman passed slowly by. + +Bulstrode! said two or three voices at once in a low tone, one of +them, which was the drapers, respectfully prefixing the Mr.; but +nobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they +had said the Riverston coach when that vehicle appeared in the +distance. Mr. Hawley gave a careless glance round at Bulstrodes back, +but as Bambridges eyes followed it he made a sarcastic grimace. + +By jingo! that reminds me, he began, lowering his voice a little, I +picked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse, Mr. Hawley. +I picked up a fine story about Bulstrode. Do you know how he came by +his fortune? Any gentleman wanting a bit of curious information, I can +give it him free of expense. If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode +might have had to say his prayers at Botany Bay. + +What do you mean? said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his hands into his +pockets, and pushing a little forward under the archway. If Bulstrode +should turn out to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul. + +I had it from a party who was an old chum of Bulstrodes. Ill tell +you where I first picked him up, said Bambridge, with a sudden gesture +of his fore-finger. He was at Larchers sale, but I knew nothing of +him thenhe slipped through my fingerswas after Bulstrode, no doubt. +He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. +However, he blabbed to me at Bilkley: he takes a stiff glass. Damme if +I think he meant to turn kings evidence; but hes that sort of +bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, till +hed brag of a spavin as if it ud fetch money. A man should know when +to pull up. Mr. Bambridge made this remark with an air of disgust, +satisfied that his own bragging showed a fine sense of the marketable. + +Whats the mans name? Where can he be found? said Mr. Hawley. + +As to where he is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracens Head; +but his name is Raffles. + +Raffles! exclaimed Mr. Hopkins. I furnished his funeral yesterday. +He was buried at Lowick. Mr. Bulstrode followed him. A very decent +funeral. There was a strong sensation among the listeners. Mr. +Bambridge gave an ejaculation in which brimstone was the mildest +word, and Mr. Hawley, knitting his brows and bending his head forward, +exclaimed, What?where did the man die? + +At Stone Court, said the draper. The housekeeper said he was a +relation of the masters. He came there ill on Friday. + +Why, it was on Wednesday I took a glass with him, interposed +Bambridge. + +Did any doctor attend him? said Mr. Hawley + +Yes. Mr. Lydgate. Mr. Bulstrode sat up with him one night. He died the +third morning. + +Go on, Bambridge, said Mr. Hawley, insistently. What did this fellow +say about Bulstrode? + +The group had already become larger, the town-clerks presence being a +guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. +Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven. It was +mainly what we know, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some +local color and circumstance added: it was what Bulstrode had dreaded +the betrayal ofand hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of +Rafflesit was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode +past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence +had delivered him from. Yes, Providence. He had not confessed to +himself yet that he had done anything in the way of contrivance to this +end; he had accepted what seemed to have been offered. It was +impossible to prove that he had done anything which hastened the +departure of that mans soul. + +But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the +smell of fire. Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending +a clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court on a pretext of inquiring +about hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles +and his illness from Mrs. Abel. In this way it came to his knowledge +that Mr. Garth had carried the man to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. +Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at +his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it +were required, and then asking him incidentally about Raffles. Caleb +was betrayed into no word injurious to Bulstrode beyond the fact which +he was forced to admit, that he had given up acting for him within the +last week. Mr Hawley drew his inferences, and feeling convinced that +Raffles had told his story to Garth, and that Garth had given up +Bulstrodes affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. +Toller. The statement was passed on until it had quite lost the stamp +of an inference, and was taken as information coming straight from +Garth, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to +be the chief publisher of Bulstrodes misdemeanors. + +Mr. Hawley was not slow to perceive that there was no handle for the +law either in the revelations made by Raffles or in the circumstances +of his death. He had himself ridden to Lowick village that he might +look at the register and talk over the whole matter with Mr. +Farebrother, who was not more surprised than the lawyer that an ugly +secret should have come to light about Bulstrode, though he had always +had justice enough in him to hinder his antipathy from turning into +conclusions. But while they were talking another combination was +silently going forward in Mr. Farebrothers mind, which foreshadowed +what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary +putting of two and two together. With the reasons which kept +Bulstrode in dread of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread +might have something to do with his munificence towards his medical +man; and though he resisted the suggestion that it had been consciously +accepted in any way as a bribe, he had a foreboding that this +complication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgates +reputation. He perceived that Mr. Hawley knew nothing at present of the +sudden relief from debt, and he himself was careful to glide away from +all approaches towards the subject. + +Well, he said, with a deep breath, wanting to wind up the illimitable +discussion of what might have been, though nothing could be legally +proven, it is a strange story. So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer +genealogy! A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot made +a likely enough stock for him to spring from, but I should never have +suspected a grafting of the Jew pawnbroker. However, theres no knowing +what a mixture will turn out beforehand. Some sorts of dirt serve to +clarify. + +Its just what I should have expected, said Mr. Hawley, mounting his +horse. Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy. + +I know hes one of your black sheep, Hawley. But he is really a +disinterested, unworldly fellow, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. + +Ay, ay, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Hawley, who had been in +the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned +pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a Tory. + +Mr. Hawley rode home without thinking of Lydgates attendance on +Raffles in any other light than as a piece of evidence on the side of +Bulstrode. But the news that Lydgate had all at once become able not +only to get rid of the execution in his house but to pay all his debts +in Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering round it conjectures and +comments which gave it new body and impetus, and soon filling the ears +of other persons besides Mr. Hawley, who were not slow to see a +significant relation between this sudden command of money and +Bulstrodes desire to stifle the scandal of Raffles. That the money +came from Bulstrode would infallibly have been guessed even if there +had been no direct evidence of it; for it had beforehand entered into +the gossip about Lydgates affairs, that neither his father-in-law nor +his own family would do anything for him, and direct evidence was +furnished not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by innocent Mrs. +Bulstrode herself, who mentioned the loan to Mrs. Plymdale, who +mentioned it to her daughter-in-law of the house of Toller, who +mentioned it generally. The business was felt to be so public and +important that it required dinners to feed it, and many invitations +were just then issued and accepted on the strength of this scandal +concerning Bulstrode and Lydgate; wives, widows, and single ladies took +their work and went out to tea oftener than usual; and all public +conviviality, from the Green Dragon to Dollops, gathered a zest which +could not be won from the question whether the Lords would throw out +the Reform Bill. + +For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at +the bottom of Bulstrodes liberality to Lydgate. Mr. Hawley indeed, in +the first instance, invited a select party, including the two +physicians, with Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close +discussion as to the probabilities of Raffless illness, reciting to +them all the particulars which had been gathered from Mrs. Abel in +connection with Lydgates certificate, that the death was due to +delirium tremens; and the medical gentlemen, who all stood +undisturbedly on the old paths in relation to this disease, declared +that they could see nothing in these particulars which could be +transformed into a positive ground of suspicion. But the moral grounds +of suspicion remained: the strong motives Bulstrode clearly had for +wishing to be rid of Raffles, and the fact that at this critical moment +he had given Lydgate the help which he must for some time have known +the need for; the disposition, moreover, to believe that Bulstrode +would be unscrupulous, and the absence of any indisposition to believe +that Lydgate might be as easily bribed as other haughty-minded men when +they have found themselves in want of money. Even if the money had been +given merely to make him hold his tongue about the scandal of +Bulstrodes earlier life, the fact threw an odious light on Lydgate, +who had long been sneered at as making himself subservient to the +banker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and +discrediting the elder members of his profession. Hence, in spite of +the negative as to any direct sign of guilt in relation to the death at +Stone Court, Mr. Hawleys select party broke up with the sense that the +affair had an ugly look. + +But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was enough to +keep up much head-shaking and biting innuendo even among substantial +professional seniors, had for the general mind all the superior power +of mystery over fact. Everybody liked better to conjecture how the +thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more +confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the +incompatible. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrodes +earlier life was, for some minds, melted into the mass of mystery, as +so much lively metal to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such +fantastic shapes as heaven pleased. + +This was the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. Dollop, the +spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had often to +resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that their +reports from the outer world were of equal force with what had come +up in her mind. How it had been brought to her she didnt know, but it +was there before her as if it had been scored with the chalk on the +chimney-board as Bulstrode should say, his inside was _that black_ +as if the hairs of his head knowed the thoughts of his heart, hed tear +em up by the roots. + +Thats odd, said Mr. Limp, a meditative shoemaker, with weak eyes and +a piping voice. Why, I read in the Trumpet that was what the Duke of +Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the Romans. + +Very like, said Mrs. Dollop. If one raskill said it, its more +reason why another should. But hypo_crite_ as hes been, and holding +things with that high hand, as there was no parson i the country good +enough for him, he was forced to take Old Harry into his counsel, and +Old Harrys been too many for him. + +Ay, ay, hes a complice you cant send out o the country, said Mr. +Crabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly. +But by what I can make out, theres them says Bulstrode was for +running away, for fear o being found out, before now. + +Hell be drove away, whether or no, said Mr. Dill, the barber, who +had just dropped in. I shaved Fletcher, Hawleys clerk, this +morninghes got a bad fingerand he says theyre all of one mind to +get rid of Bulstrode. Mr. Thesiger is turned against him, and wants him +out o the parish. And theres gentlemen in this town says theyd as +soon dine with a fellow from the hulks. And a deal sooner I would, +says Fletcher; for whats more against ones stomach than a man coming +and making himself bad company with his religion, and giving out as the +Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and all the while hes worse +than half the men at the tread-mill? Fletcher said so himself. + +Itll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrodes money goes +out of it, said Mr. Limp, quaveringly. + +Ah, theres better folks spend their money worse, said a firm-voiced +dyer, whose crimson hands looked out of keeping with his good-natured +face. + +But he wont keep his money, by what I can make out, said the +glazier. Dont they say as theres somebody can strip it off him? By +what I can understan, they could take every penny off him, if they +went to lawing. + +No such thing! said the barber, who felt himself a little above his +company at Dollops, but liked it none the worse. Fletcher says its +no such thing. He says they might prove over and over again whose child +this young Ladislaw was, and theyd do no more than if they proved I +came out of the Fenshe couldnt touch a penny. + +Look you there now! said Mrs. Dollop, indignantly. I thank the Lord +he took my children to Himself, if thats all the law can do for the +motherless. Then by that, its o no use who your father and mother is. +But as to listening to what one lawyer says without asking anotherI +wonder at a man o your cleverness, Mr. Dill. Its well known theres +always two sides, if no more; else whod go to law, I should like to +know? Its a poor tale, with all the law as there is up and down, if +its no use proving whose child you are. Fletcher may say that if he +likes, but I say, dont Fletcher _me_! + +Mr. Dill affected to laugh in a complimentary way at Mrs. Dollop, as a +woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to +submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against +him. + +If they come to lawing, and its all true as folks say, theres more +to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. Theres this poor +creetur as is dead and gone; by what I can make out, hed seen the day +when he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode. + +Finer gentleman! Ill warrant him, said Mrs. Dollop; and a far +personabler man, by what I can hear. As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the +tax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says, Bulstrode +got all his money as he brought into this town by thieving and +swindling,I said, You dont make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: its set +my blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin here he came into +Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks dont +look the color o the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to +see into your backbone for nothingk. That was what I said, and Mr. +Baldwin can bear me witness. + +And in the rights of it too, said Mr. Crabbe. For by what I can make +out, this Raffles, as they call him, was a lusty, fresh-colored man as +youd wish to see, and the best o companythough dead he lies in +Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can understan, theres +them knows more than they _should_ know about how he got there. + +Ill believe you! said Mrs. Dollop, with a touch of scorn at Mr. +Crabbes apparent dimness. When a mans been ticed to a lone house, +and theres them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the +country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and nobody to come +near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he +can hang together, and after that so flush o money as he can pay off +Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o +joints since last Michaelmas was a twelvemonthI dont want anybody to +come and tell me as theres been more going on nor the Prayer-books +got a service forI dont want to stand winking and blinking and +thinking. + +Mrs. Dollop looked round with the air of a landlady accustomed to +dominate her company. There was a chorus of adhesion from the more +courageous; but Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands +together and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them +with blear-eyed contemplation, as if the scorching power of Mrs. +Dollops speech had quite dried up and nullified his wits until they +could be brought round again by further moisture. + +Why shouldnt they dig the man up and have the Crowner? said the +dyer. Its been done many and manys the time. If theres been foul +play they might find it out. + +Not they, Mr. Jonas! said Mrs Dollop, emphatically. I know what +doctors are. Theyre a deal too cunning to be found out. And this +Doctor Lydgate thats been for cutting up everybody before the breath +was well out o their bodyits plain enough what use he wanted to make +o looking into respectable peoples insides. He knows drugs, you may +be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before theyre +swallowed nor after. Why, Ive seen drops myself ordered by Doctor +Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought +more live children into the world nor ever another i MiddlemarchI say +Ive seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the +glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. So Ill leave your +own sense to judge. Dont tell me! All I say is, its a mercy they +didnt take this Doctor Lydgate on to our club. Theres many a mothers +child might ha rued it. + +The heads of this discussion at Dollops had been the common theme +among all classes in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on +one side and to Tipton Grange on the other, had come fully to the ears +of the Vincy family, and had been discussed with sad reference to poor +Harriet by all Mrs. Bulstrodes friends, before Lydgate knew +distinctly why people were looking strangely at him, and before +Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of his secrets. He had not +been accustomed to very cordial relations with his neighbors, and hence +he could not miss the signs of cordiality; moreover, he had been taking +journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that +he need not quit Middlemarch, and feeling able consequently to +determine on matters which he had before left in suspense. + +We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a month or two, +he had said to his wife. There are great spiritual advantages to be +had in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there +will be eminently refreshing to us. + +He really believed in the spiritual advantages, and meant that his life +henceforth should be the more devoted because of those later sins which +he represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for +their pardon:if I have herein transgressed. + +As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, +fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the +death of Raffles. In his secret soul he believed that Lydgate suspected +his orders to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he +must also suspect a motive. But nothing had been betrayed to him as to +the history of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything +which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. As to any +certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or +kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he +had no right to speak, and he had every motive for being silent. Hence +Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured. The only incident he had +strongly winced under had been an occasional encounter with Caleb +Garth, who, however, had raised his hat with mild gravity. + +Meanwhile, on the part of the principal townsmen a strong determination +was growing against him. + +A meeting was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which +had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case +in the town. Since the Act of Parliament, which had been hurriedly +passed, authorizing assessments for sanitary measures, there had been a +Board for the superintendence of such measures appointed in +Middlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in +by Whigs and Tories. The question now was, whether a piece of ground +outside the town should be secured as a burial-ground by means of +assessment or by private subscription. The meeting was to be open, and +almost everybody of importance in the town was expected to be there. + +Mr. Bulstrode was a member of the Board, and just before twelve oclock +he started from the Bank with the intention of urging the plan of +private subscription. Under the hesitation of his projects, he had for +some time kept himself in the background, and he felt that he should +this morning resume his old position as a man of action and influence +in the public affairs of the town where he expected to end his days. +Among the various persons going in the same direction, he saw Lydgate; +they joined, talked over the object of the meeting, and entered it +together. + +It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. But there +were still spaces left near the head of the large central table, and +they made their way thither. Mr. Farebrother sat opposite, not far from +Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the +chair, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand. + +Lydgate noticed a peculiar interchange of glances when he and Bulstrode +took their seats. + +After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed +out the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of ground +large enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery, Mr. +Bulstrode, whose rather high-pitched but subdued and fluent voice the +town was used to at meetings of this sort, rose and asked leave to +deliver his opinion. Lydgate could see again the peculiar interchange +of glances before Mr. Hawley started up, and said in his firm resonant +voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his +opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of +public feeling, which not only by myself, but by many gentlemen +present, is regarded as preliminary. + +Mr. Hawleys mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his +awful language, was formidable in its curtness and self-possession. +Mr. Thesiger sanctioned the request, Mr. Bulstrode sat down, and Mr. +Hawley continued. + +In what I have to say, Mr. Chairman, I am not speaking simply on my +own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the express +request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are +immediately around us. It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode +should be called uponand I do now call upon himto resign public +positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman +among gentlemen. There are practices and there are acts which, owing to +circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than many +things which are legally punishable. Honest men and gentlemen, if they +dont want the company of people who perpetrate such acts, have got to +defend themselves as they best can, and that is what I and the friends +whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. I dont +say that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful acts, but I call +upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements +made against him by a man now dead, and who died in his housethe +statement that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, +and that he won his fortune by dishonest proceduresor else to withdraw +from positions which could only have been allowed him as a gentleman +among gentlemen. + +All eyes in the room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, since the first +mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost +too violent for his delicate frame to support. Lydgate, who himself was +undergoing a shock as from the terrible practical interpretation of +some faint augury, felt, nevertheless, that his own movement of +resentful hatred was checked by that instinct of the Healer which +thinks first of bringing rescue or relief to the sufferer, when he +looked at the shrunken misery of Bulstrodes livid face. + +The quick vision that his life was after all a failure, that he was a +dishonored man, and must quail before the glance of those towards whom +he had habitually assumed the attitude of a reproverthat God had +disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn +of those who were glad to have their hatred justifiedthe sense of +utter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with +the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously +upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie:all this rushed +through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves +the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. The sudden +sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety camenot to +the coarse organization of a criminal, but to the susceptible nerve of +a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the +conditions of his life had shaped for him. + +But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Through all his +bodily infirmity there ran a tenacious nerve of ambitious +self-preserving will, which had continually leaped out like a flame, +scattering all doctrinal fears, and which, even while he sat an object +of compassion for the merciful, was beginning to stir and glow under +his ashy paleness. Before the last words were out of Mr. Hawleys +mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should answer, and that his answer would +be a retort. He dared not get up and say, I am not guilty, the whole +story is falseeven if he had dared this, it would have seemed to him, +under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for +covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little +strain. + +For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room +was looking at Bulstrode. He sat perfectly still, leaning hard against +the back of his chair; he could not venture to rise, and when he began +to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. But +his voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser than usual, and his +words were distinctly pronounced, though he paused between sentence as +if short of breath. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, and +then looking at Mr. Hawley + +I protest before you, sir, as a Christian minister, against the +sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent +hatred. Those who are hostile to me are glad to believe any libel +uttered by a loose tongue against me. And their consciences become +strict against me. Say that the evil-speaking of which I am to be made +the victim accuses me of malpractices here Bulstrodes voice rose and +took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low crywho shall be my +accuser? Not men whose own lives are unchristian, nay, scandalousnot +men who themselves use low instruments to carry out their endswhose +profession is a tissue of chicanerywho have been spending their income +on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have been devoting mine to +advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next. + +After the word chicanery there was a growing noise, half of murmurs and +half of hisses, while four persons started up at onceMr. Hawley, Mr. +Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Hawleys outburst was +instantaneous, and left the others behind in silence. + +If you mean me, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection +of my professional life. As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate +your canting palavering Christianity; and as to the way in which I +spend my income, it is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat +offspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set +myself up as a saintly Killjoy. I affect no niceness of conscienceI +have not found any nice standards necessary yet to measure your actions +by, sir. And I again call upon you to enter into satisfactory +explanations concerning the scandals against you, or else to withdraw +from posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague. I say, +sir, we decline to co-operate with a man whose character is not cleared +from infamous lights cast upon it, not only by reports but by recent +actions. + +Allow me, Mr. Hawley, said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley, still +fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep +in his pockets. + +Mr. Bulstrode, it is not desirable, I think, to prolong the present +discussion, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I +must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in expression +of a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession +that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. I +for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing. +But I must say that your present attitude is painfully inconsistent +with those principles which you have sought to identify yourself with, +and for the honor of which I am bound to care. I recommend you at +present, as your clergyman, and one who hopes for your reinstatement in +respect, to quit the room, and avoid further hindrance to business. + +Bulstrode, after a moments hesitation, took his hat from the floor and +slowly rose, but he grasped the corner of the chair so totteringly that +Lydgate felt sure there was not strength enough in him to walk away +without support. What could he do? He could not see a man sink close to +him for want of help. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and in +that way led him out of the room; yet this act, which might have been +one of gentle duty and pure compassion, was at this moment unspeakably +bitter to him. It seemed as if he were putting his sign-manual to that +association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full +meaning as it must have presented itself to other minds. He now felt +the conviction that this man who was leaning tremblingly on his arm, +had given him the thousand pounds as a bribe, and that somehow the +treatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. The +inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, +believed it to be a bribe, and believed that he took it as a bribe. + +Poor Lydgate, his mind struggling under the terrible clutch of this +revelation, was all the while morally forced to take Mr. Bulstrode to +the Bank, send a man off for his carriage, and wait to accompany him +home. + +Meanwhile the business of the meeting was despatched, and fringed off +into eager discussion among various groups concerning this affair of +Bulstrodeand Lydgate. + +Mr. Brooke, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, and was +very uneasy that he had gone a little too far in countenancing +Bulstrode, now got himself fully informed, and felt some benevolent +sadness in talking to Mr. Farebrother about the ugly light in which +Lydgate had come to be regarded. Mr. Farebrother was going to walk back +to Lowick. + +Step into my carriage, said Mr. Brooke. I am going round to see Mrs. +Casaubon. She was to come back from Yorkshire last night. She will like +to see me, you know. + +So they drove along, Mr. Brooke chatting with good-natured hope that +there had not really been anything black in Lydgates behaviora young +fellow whom he had seen to be quite above the common mark, when he +brought a letter from his uncle Sir Godwin. Mr. Farebrother said +little: he was deeply mournful: with a keen perception of human +weakness, he could not be confident that under the pressure of +humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. + +When the carriage drove up to the gate of the Manor, Dorothea was out +on the gravel, and came to greet them. + +Well, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, we have just come from a meetinga +sanitary meeting, you know. + +Was Mr. Lydgate there? said Dorothea, who looked full of health and +animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April +lights. I want to see him and have a great consultation with him about +the Hospital. I have engaged with Mr. Bulstrode to do so. + +Oh, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, we have been hearing bad newsbad +news, you know. + +They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr. +Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the +whole sad story. + +She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the +facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. After a short silence, +pausing at the churchyard gate, and addressing Mr. Farebrother, she +said energetically + +You dont believe that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? I will +not believe it. Let us find out the truth and clear him! + + + + +BOOK VIII. +SUNSET AND SUNRISE. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXII. + +Full souls are double mirrors, making still +An endless vista of fair things before, +Repeating things behind. + + +Dorotheas impetuous generosity, which would have leaped at once to the +vindication of Lydgate from the suspicion of having accepted money as a +bribe, underwent a melancholy check when she came to consider all the +circumstances of the case by the light of Mr. Farebrothers experience. + +It is a delicate matter to touch, he said. How can we begin to +inquire into it? It must be either publicly by setting the magistrate +and coroner to work, or privately by questioning Lydgate. As to the +first proceeding there is no solid ground to go upon, else Hawley would +have adopted it; and as to opening the subject with Lydgate, I confess +I should shrink from it. He would probably take it as a deadly insult. +I have more than once experienced the difficulty of speaking to him on +personal matters. Andone should know the truth about his conduct +beforehand, to feel very confident of a good result. + +I feel convinced that his conduct has not been guilty: I believe that +people are almost always better than their neighbors think they are, +said Dorothea. Some of her intensest experience in the last two years +had set her mind strongly in opposition to any unfavorable construction +of others; and for the first time she felt rather discontented with Mr. +Farebrother. She disliked this cautious weighing of consequences, +instead of an ardent faith in efforts of justice and mercy, which would +conquer by their emotional force. Two days afterwards, he was dining at +the Manor with her uncle and the Chettams, and when the dessert was +standing uneaten, the servants were out of the room, and Mr. Brooke was +nodding in a nap, she returned to the subject with renewed vivacity. + +Mr. Lydgate would understand that if his friends hear a calumny about +him their first wish must be to justify him. What do we live for, if it +is not to make life less difficult to each other? I cannot be +indifferent to the troubles of a man who advised me in _my_ trouble, +and attended me in my illness. + +Dorotheas tone and manner were not more energetic than they had been +when she was at the head of her uncles table nearly three years +before, and her experience since had given her more right to express a +decided opinion. But Sir James Chettam was no longer the diffident and +acquiescent suitor: he was the anxious brother-in-law, with a devout +admiration for his sister, but with a constant alarm lest she should +fall under some new illusion almost as bad as marrying Casaubon. He +smiled much less; when he said Exactly it was more often an +introduction to a dissentient opinion than in those submissive bachelor +days; and Dorothea found to her surprise that she had to resolve not to +be afraid of himall the more because he was really her best friend. He +disagreed with her now. + +But, Dorothea, he said, remonstrantly, you cant undertake to manage +a mans life for him in that way. Lydgate must knowat least he will +soon come to know how he stands. If he can clear himself, he will. He +must act for himself. + +I think his friends must wait till they find an opportunity, added +Mr. Farebrother. It is possibleI have often felt so much weakness in +myself that I can conceive even a man of honorable disposition, such as +I have always believed Lydgate to be, succumbing to such a temptation +as that of accepting money which was offered more or less indirectly as +a bribe to insure his silence about scandalous facts long gone by. I +say, I can conceive this, if he were under the pressure of hard +circumstancesif he had been harassed as I feel sure Lydgate has been. +I would not believe anything worse of him except under stringent proof. +But there is the terrible Nemesis following on some errors, that it is +always possible for those who like it to interpret them into a crime: +there is no proof in favor of the man outside his own consciousness and +assertion. + +Oh, how cruel! said Dorothea, clasping her hands. And would you not +like to be the one person who believed in that mans innocence, if the +rest of the world belied him? Besides, there is a mans character +beforehand to speak for him. + +But, my dear Mrs. Casaubon, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling gently at +her ardor, character is not cut in marbleit is not something solid +and unalterable. It is something living and changing, and may become +diseased as our bodies do. + +Then it may be rescued and healed, said Dorothea I should not be +afraid of asking Mr. Lydgate to tell me the truth, that I might help +him. Why should I be afraid? Now that I am not to have the land, James, +I might do as Mr. Bulstrode proposed, and take his place in providing +for the Hospital; and I have to consult Mr. Lydgate, to know thoroughly +what are the prospects of doing good by keeping up the present plans. +There is the best opportunity in the world for me to ask for his +confidence; and he would be able to tell me things which might make all +the circumstances clear. Then we would all stand by him and bring him +out of his trouble. People glorify all sorts of bravery except the +bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors. +Dorotheas eyes had a moist brightness in them, and the changed tones +of her voice roused her uncle, who began to listen. + +It is true that a woman may venture on some efforts of sympathy which +would hardly succeed if we men undertook them, said Mr. Farebrother, +almost converted by Dorotheas ardor. + +Surely, a woman is bound to be cautious and listen to those who know +the world better than she does. said Sir James, with his little frown. +Whatever you do in the end, Dorothea, you should really keep back at +present, and not volunteer any meddling with this Bulstrode business. +We dont know yet what may turn up. You must agree with me? he ended, +looking at Mr. Farebrother. + +I do think it would be better to wait, said the latter. + +Yes, yes, my dear, said Mr. Brooke, not quite knowing at what point +the discussion had arrived, but coming up to it with a contribution +which was generally appropriate. It is easy to go too far, you know. +You must not let your ideas run away with you. And as to being in a +hurry to put money into schemesit wont do, you know. Garth has drawn +me in uncommonly with repairs, draining, that sort of thing: Im +uncommonly out of pocket with one thing or another. I must pull up. As +for you, Chettam, you are spending a fortune on those oak fences round +your demesne. + +Dorothea, submitting uneasily to this discouragement, went with Celia +into the library, which was her usual drawing-room. + +Now, Dodo, do listen to what James says, said Celia, else you will +be getting into a scrape. You always did, and you always will, when you +set about doing as you please. And I think it is a mercy now after all +that you have got James to think for you. He lets you have your plans, +only he hinders you from being taken in. And that is the good of having +a brother instead of a husband. A husband would not let you have your +plans. + +As if I wanted a husband! said Dorothea. I only want not to have my +feelings checked at every turn. Mrs. Casaubon was still undisciplined +enough to burst into angry tears. + +Now, really, Dodo, said Celia, with rather a deeper guttural than +usual, you _are_ contradictory: first one thing and then another. You +used to submit to Mr. Casaubon quite shamefully: I think you would have +given up ever coming to see me if he had asked you. + +Of course I submitted to him, because it was my duty; it was my +feeling for him, said Dorothea, looking through the prism of her +tears. + +Then why cant you think it your duty to submit a little to what James +wishes? said Celia, with a sense of stringency in her argument. +Because he only wishes what is for your own good. And, of course, men +know best about everything, except what women know better. Dorothea +laughed and forgot her tears. + +Well, I mean about babies and those things, explained Celia. I +should not give up to James when I knew he was wrong, as you used to do +to Mr. Casaubon. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIII. + +Pity the laden one; this wandering woe +May visit you and me. + + +When Lydgate had allayed Mrs. Bulstrodes anxiety by telling her that +her husband had been seized with faintness at the meeting, but that he +trusted soon to see him better and would call again the next day, +unless she sent for him earlier, he went directly home, got on his +horse, and rode three miles out of the town for the sake of being out +of reach. + +He felt himself becoming violent and unreasonable as if raging under +the pain of stings: he was ready to curse the day on which he had come +to Middlemarch. Everything that had happened to him there seemed a mere +preparation for this hateful fatality, which had come as a blight on +his honorable ambition, and must make even people who had only vulgar +standards regard his reputation as irrevocably damaged. In such moments +a man can hardly escape being unloving. Lydgate thought of himself as +the sufferer, and of others as the agents who had injured his lot. He +had meant everything to turn out differently; and others had thrust +themselves into his life and thwarted his purposes. His marriage seemed +an unmitigated calamity; and he was afraid of going to Rosamond before +he had vented himself in this solitary rage, lest the mere sight of her +should exasperate him and make him behave unwarrantably. There are +episodes in most mens lives in which their highest qualities can only +cast a deterring shadow over the objects that fill their inward vision: +Lydgates tenderheartedness was present just then only as a dread lest +he should offend against it, not as an emotion that swayed him to +tenderness. For he was very miserable. Only those who know the +supremacy of the intellectual lifethe life which has a seed of +ennobling thought and purpose within itcan understand the grief of one +who falls from that serene activity into the absorbing soul-wasting +struggle with worldly annoyances. + +How was he to live on without vindicating himself among people who +suspected him of baseness? How could he go silently away from +Middlemarch as if he were retreating before a just condemnation? And +yet how was he to set about vindicating himself? + +For that scene at the meeting, which he had just witnessed, although it +had told him no particulars, had been enough to make his own situation +thoroughly clear to him. Bulstrode had been in dread of scandalous +disclosures on the part of Raffles. Lydgate could now construct all the +probabilities of the case. He was afraid of some betrayal in my +hearing: all he wanted was to bind me to him by a strong obligation: +that was why he passed on a sudden from hardness to liberality. And he +may have tampered with the patienthe may have disobeyed my orders. I +fear he did. But whether he did or not, the world believes that he +somehow or other poisoned the man and that I winked at the crime, if I +didnt help in it. And yetand yet he may not be guilty of the last +offence; and it is just possible that the change towards me may have +been a genuine relentingthe effect of second thoughts such as he +alleged. What we call the just possible is sometimes true and the +thing we find it easier to believe is grossly false. In his last +dealings with this man Bulstrode may have kept his hands pure, in spite +of my suspicion to the contrary. + +There was a benumbing cruelty in his position. Even if he renounced +every other consideration than that of justifying himselfif he met +shrugs, cold glances, and avoidance as an accusation, and made a public +statement of all the facts as he knew them, who would be convinced? It +would be playing the part of a fool to offer his own testimony on +behalf of himself, and say, I did not take the money as a bribe. The +circumstances would always be stronger than his assertion. And besides, +to come forward and tell everything about himself must include +declarations about Bulstrode which would darken the suspicions of +others against him. He must tell that he had not known of Raffless +existence when he first mentioned his pressing need of money to +Bulstrode, and that he took the money innocently as a result of that +communication, not knowing that a new motive for the loan might have +arisen on his being called in to this man. And after all, the suspicion +of Bulstrodes motives might be unjust. + +But then came the question whether he should have acted in precisely +the same way if he had not taken the money? Certainly, if Raffles had +continued alive and susceptible of further treatment when he arrived, +and he had then imagined any disobedience to his orders on the part of +Bulstrode, he would have made a strict inquiry, and if his conjecture +had been verified he would have thrown up the case, in spite of his +recent heavy obligation. But if he had not received any moneyif +Bulstrode had never revoked his cold recommendation of bankruptcywould +he, Lydgate, have abstained from all inquiry even on finding the man +dead?would the shrinking from an insult to Bulstrodewould the +dubiousness of all medical treatment and the argument that his own +treatment would pass for the wrong with most members of his +professionhave had just the same force or significance with him? + +That was the uneasy corner of Lydgates consciousness while he was +reviewing the facts and resisting all reproach. If he had been +independent, this matter of a patients treatment and the distinct rule +that he must do or see done that which he believed best for the life +committed to him, would have been the point on which he would have been +the sturdiest. As it was, he had rested in the consideration that +disobedience to his orders, however it might have arisen, could not be +considered a crime, that in the dominant opinion obedience to his +orders was just as likely to be fatal, and that the affair was simply +one of etiquette. Whereas, again and again, in his time of freedom, he +had denounced the perversion of pathological doubt into moral doubt and +had saidthe purest experiment in treatment may still be +conscientious: my business is to take care of life, and to do the best +I can think of for it. Science is properly more scrupulous than dogma. +Dogma gives a charter to mistake, but the very breath of science is a +contest with mistake, and must keep the conscience alive. Alas! the +scientific conscience had got into the debasing company of money +obligation and selfish respects. + +Is there a medical man of them all in Middlemarch who would question +himself as I do? said poor Lydgate, with a renewed outburst of +rebellion against the oppression of his lot. And yet they will all +feel warranted in making a wide space between me and them, as if I were +a leper! My practice and my reputation are utterly damnedI can see +that. Even if I could be cleared by valid evidence, it would make +little difference to the blessed world here. I have been set down as +tainted and should be cheapened to them all the same. + +Already there had been abundant signs which had hitherto puzzled him, +that just when he had been paying off his debts and getting cheerfully +on his feet, the townsmen were avoiding him or looking strangely at +him, and in two instances it came to his knowledge that patients of his +had called in another practitioner. The reasons were too plain now. The +general black-balling had begun. + +No wonder that in Lydgates energetic nature the sense of a hopeless +misconstruction easily turned into a dogged resistance. The scowl which +occasionally showed itself on his square brow was not a meaningless +accident. Already when he was re-entering the town after that ride +taken in the first hours of stinging pain, he was setting his mind on +remaining in Middlemarch in spite of the worst that could be done +against him. He would not retreat before calumny, as if he submitted to +it. He would face it to the utmost, and no act of his should show that +he was afraid. It belonged to the generosity as well as defiant force +of his nature that he resolved not to shrink from showing to the full +his sense of obligation to Bulstrode. It was true that the association +with this man had been fatal to himtrue that if he had had the +thousand pounds still in his hands with all his debts unpaid he would +have returned the money to Bulstrode, and taken beggary rather than the +rescue which had been sullied with the suspicion of a bribe (for, +remember, he was one of the proudest among the sons of +men)nevertheless, he would not turn away from this crushed +fellow-mortal whose aid he had used, and make a pitiful effort to get +acquittal for himself by howling against another. I shall do as I +think right, and explain to nobody. They will try to starve me out, +but he was going on with an obstinate resolve, but he was getting +near home, and the thought of Rosamond urged itself again into that +chief place from which it had been thrust by the agonized struggles of +wounded honor and pride. + +How would Rosamond take it all? Here was another weight of chain to +drag, and poor Lydgate was in a bad mood for bearing her dumb mastery. +He had no impulse to tell her the trouble which must soon be common to +them both. He preferred waiting for the incidental disclosure which +events must soon bring about. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIV. + +Mercifully grant that we may grow aged together. +BOOK OF TOBIT: _Marriage Prayer_. + + +In Middlemarch a wife could not long remain ignorant that the town held +a bad opinion of her husband. No feminine intimate might carry her +friendship so far as to make a plain statement to the wife of the +unpleasant fact known or believed about her husband; but when a woman +with her thoughts much at leisure got them suddenly employed on +something grievously disadvantageous to her neighbors, various moral +impulses were called into play which tended to stimulate utterance. +Candor was one. To be candid, in Middlemarch phraseology, meant, to use +an early opportunity of letting your friends know that you did not take +a cheerful view of their capacity, their conduct, or their position; +and a robust candor never waited to be asked for its opinion. Then, +again, there was the love of trutha wide phrase, but meaning in this +relation, a lively objection to seeing a wife look happier than her +husbands character warranted, or manifest too much satisfaction in her +lotthe poor thing should have some hint given her that if she knew the +truth she would have less complacency in her bonnet, and in light +dishes for a supper-party. Stronger than all, there was the regard for +a friends moral improvement, sometimes called her soul, which was +likely to be benefited by remarks tending to gloom, uttered with the +accompaniment of pensive staring at the furniture and a manner implying +that the speaker would not tell what was on her mind, from regard to +the feelings of her hearer. On the whole, one might say that an ardent +charity was at work setting the virtuous mind to make a neighbor +unhappy for her good. + +There were hardly any wives in Middlemarch whose matrimonial +misfortunes would in different ways be likely to call forth more of +this moral activity than Rosamond and her aunt Bulstrode. Mrs. +Bulstrode was not an object of dislike, and had never consciously +injured any human being. Men had always thought her a handsome +comfortable woman, and had reckoned it among the signs of Bulstrodes +hypocrisy that he had chosen a red-blooded Vincy, instead of a ghastly +and melancholy person suited to his low esteem for earthly pleasure. +When the scandal about her husband was disclosed they remarked of +herAh, poor woman! Shes as honest as the day_she_ never suspected +anything wrong in him, you may depend on it. Women, who were intimate +with her, talked together much of poor Harriet, imagined what her +feelings must be when she came to know everything, and conjectured how +much she had already come to know. There was no spiteful disposition +towards her; rather, there was a busy benevolence anxious to ascertain +what it would be well for her to feel and do under the circumstances, +which of course kept the imagination occupied with her character and +history from the times when she was Harriet Vincy till now. With the +review of Mrs. Bulstrode and her position it was inevitable to +associate Rosamond, whose prospects were under the same blight with her +aunts. Rosamond was more severely criticised and less pitied, though +she too, as one of the good old Vincy family who had always been known +in Middlemarch, was regarded as a victim to marriage with an +interloper. The Vincys had their weaknesses, but then they lay on the +surface: there was never anything bad to be found out concerning +them. Mrs. Bulstrode was vindicated from any resemblance to her +husband. Harriets faults were her own. + +She has always been showy, said Mrs. Hackbutt, making tea for a small +party, though she has got into the way of putting her religion +forward, to conform to her husband; she has tried to hold her head up +above Middlemarch by making it known that she invites clergymen and +heaven-knows-who from Riverston and those places. + +We can hardly blame her for that, said Mrs. Sprague; because few of +the best people in the town cared to associate with Bulstrode, and she +must have somebody to sit down at her table. + +Mr. Thesiger has always countenanced him, said Mrs. Hackbutt. I +think he must be sorry now. + +But he was never fond of him in his heartthat every one knows, said +Mrs. Tom Toller. Mr. Thesiger never goes into extremes. He keeps to +the truth in what is evangelical. It is only clergymen like Mr. Tyke, +who want to use Dissenting hymn-books and that low kind of religion, +who ever found Bulstrode to their taste. + +I understand, Mr. Tyke is in great distress about him, said Mrs. +Hackbutt. And well he may be: they say the Bulstrodes have half kept +the Tyke family. + +And of course it is a discredit to his doctrines, said Mrs. Sprague, +who was elderly, and old-fashioned in her opinions. + +People will not make a boast of being methodistical in Middlemarch for +a good while to come. + +I think we must not set down peoples bad actions to their religion, +said falcon-faced Mrs. Plymdale, who had been listening hitherto. + +Oh, my dear, we are forgetting, said Mrs. Sprague. We ought not to +be talking of this before you. + +I am sure I have no reason to be partial, said Mrs. Plymdale, +coloring. Its true Mr. Plymdale has always been on good terms with +Mr. Bulstrode, and Harriet Vincy was my friend long before she married +him. But I have always kept my own opinions and told her where she was +wrong, poor thing. Still, in point of religion, I must say, Mr. +Bulstrode might have done what he has, and worse, and yet have been a +man of no religion. I dont say that there has not been a little too +much of thatI like moderation myself. But truth is truth. The men +tried at the assizes are not all over-religious, I suppose. + +Well, said Mrs. Hackbutt, wheeling adroitly, all I can say is, that +I think she ought to separate from him. + +I cant say that, said Mrs. Sprague. She took him for better or +worse, you know. + +But worse can never mean finding out that your husband is fit for +Newgate, said Mrs. Hackbutt. Fancy living with such a man! I should +expect to be poisoned. + +Yes, I think myself it is an encouragement to crime if such men are to +be taken care of and waited on by good wives, said Mrs. Tom Toller. + +And a good wife poor Harriet has been, said Mrs. Plymdale. She +thinks her husband the first of men. Its true he has never denied her +anything. + +Well, we shall see what she will do, said Mrs. Hackbutt. I suppose +she knows nothing yet, poor creature. I do hope and trust I shall not +see her, for I should be frightened to death lest I should say anything +about her husband. Do you think any hint has reached her? + +I should hardly think so, said Mrs. Tom Toller. We hear that _he_ is +ill, and has never stirred out of the house since the meeting on +Thursday; but she was with her girls at church yesterday, and they had +new Tuscan bonnets. Her own had a feather in it. I have never seen that +her religion made any difference in her dress. + +She wears very neat patterns always, said Mrs. Plymdale, a little +stung. And that feather I know she got dyed a pale lavender on purpose +to be consistent. I must say it of Harriet that she wishes to do +right. + +As to her knowing what has happened, it cant be kept from her long, +said Mrs. Hackbutt. The Vincys know, for Mr. Vincy was at the meeting. +It will be a great blow to him. There is his daughter as well as his +sister. + +Yes, indeed, said Mrs. Sprague. Nobody supposes that Mr. Lydgate can +go on holding up his head in Middlemarch, things look so black about +the thousand pounds he took just at that mans death. It really makes +one shudder. + +Pride must have a fall, said Mrs. Hackbutt. + +I am not so sorry for Rosamond Vincy that was as I am for her aunt, +said Mrs. Plymdale. She needed a lesson. + +I suppose the Bulstrodes will go and live abroad somewhere, said Mrs. +Sprague. That is what is generally done when there is anything +disgraceful in a family. + +And a most deadly blow it will be to Harriet, said Mrs. Plymdale. If +ever a woman was crushed, she will be. I pity her from my heart. And +with all her faults, few women are better. From a girl she had the +neatest ways, and was always good-hearted, and as open as the day. You +might look into her drawers when you wouldalways the same. And so she +has brought up Kate and Ellen. You may think how hard it will be for +her to go among foreigners. + +The doctor says that is what he should recommend the Lydgates to do, +said Mrs. Sprague. He says Lydgate ought to have kept among the +French. + +That would suit _her_ well enough, I dare say, said Mrs. Plymdale; +there is that kind of lightness about her. But she got that from her +mother; she never got it from her aunt Bulstrode, who always gave her +good advice, and to my knowledge would rather have had her marry +elsewhere. + +Mrs. Plymdale was in a situation which caused her some complication of +feeling. There had been not only her intimacy with Mrs. Bulstrode, but +also a profitable business relation of the great Plymdale dyeing house +with Mr. Bulstrode, which on the one hand would have inclined her to +desire that the mildest view of his character should be the true one, +but on the other, made her the more afraid of seeming to palliate his +culpability. Again, the late alliance of her family with the Tollers +had brought her in connection with the best circle, which gratified her +in every direction except in the inclination to those serious views +which she believed to be the best in another sense. The sharp little +womans conscience was somewhat troubled in the adjustment of these +opposing bests, and of her griefs and satisfactions under late +events, which were likely to humble those who needed humbling, but also +to fall heavily on her old friend whose faults she would have preferred +seeing on a background of prosperity. + +Poor Mrs. Bulstrode, meanwhile, had been no further shaken by the +oncoming tread of calamity than in the busier stirring of that secret +uneasiness which had always been present in her since the last visit of +Raffles to The Shrubs. That the hateful man had come ill to Stone +Court, and that her husband had chosen to remain there and watch over +him, she allowed to be explained by the fact that Raffles had been +employed and aided in earlier-days, and that this made a tie of +benevolence towards him in his degraded helplessness; and she had been +since then innocently cheered by her husbands more hopeful speech +about his own health and ability to continue his attention to business. +The calm was disturbed when Lydgate had brought him home ill from the +meeting, and in spite of comforting assurances during the next few +days, she cried in private from the conviction that her husband was not +suffering from bodily illness merely, but from something that afflicted +his mind. He would not allow her to read to him, and scarcely to sit +with him, alleging nervous susceptibility to sounds and movements; yet +she suspected that in shutting himself up in his private room he wanted +to be busy with his papers. Something, she felt sure, had happened. +Perhaps it was some great loss of money; and she was kept in the dark. +Not daring to question her husband, she said to Lydgate, on the fifth +day after the meeting, when she had not left home except to go to +church + +Mr. Lydgate, pray be open with me: I like to know the truth. Has +anything happened to Mr. Bulstrode? + +Some little nervous shock, said Lydgate, evasively. He felt that it +was not for him to make the painful revelation. + +But what brought it on? said Mrs. Bulstrode, looking directly at him +with her large dark eyes. + +There is often something poisonous in the air of public rooms, said +Lydgate. Strong men can stand it, but it tells on people in proportion +to the delicacy of their systems. It is often impossible to account for +the precise moment of an attackor rather, to say why the strength +gives way at a particular moment. + +Mrs. Bulstrode was not satisfied with this answer. There remained in +her the belief that some calamity had befallen her husband, of which +she was to be kept in ignorance; and it was in her nature strongly to +object to such concealment. She begged leave for her daughters to sit +with their father, and drove into the town to pay some visits, +conjecturing that if anything were known to have gone wrong in Mr. +Bulstrodes affairs, she should see or hear some sign of it. + +She called on Mrs. Thesiger, who was not at home, and then drove to +Mrs. Hackbutts on the other side of the churchyard. Mrs. Hackbutt saw +her coming from an up-stairs window, and remembering her former alarm +lest she should meet Mrs. Bulstrode, felt almost bound in consistency +to send word that she was not at home; but against that, there was a +sudden strong desire within her for the excitement of an interview in +which she was quite determined not to make the slightest allusion to +what was in her mind. + +Hence Mrs. Bulstrode was shown into the drawing-room, and Mrs. Hackbutt +went to her, with more tightness of lip and rubbing of her hands than +was usually observable in her, these being precautions adopted against +freedom of speech. She was resolved not to ask how Mr. Bulstrode was. + +I have not been anywhere except to church for nearly a week, said +Mrs. Bulstrode, after a few introductory remarks. But Mr. Bulstrode +was taken so ill at the meeting on Thursday that I have not liked to +leave the house. + +Mrs. Hackbutt rubbed the back of one hand with the palm of the other +held against her chest, and let her eyes ramble over the pattern on the +rug. + +Was Mr. Hackbutt at the meeting? persevered Mrs. Bulstrode. + +Yes, he was, said Mrs. Hackbutt, with the same attitude. The land is +to be bought by subscription, I believe. + +Let us hope that there will be no more cases of cholera to be buried +in it, said Mrs. Bulstrode. It is an awful visitation. But I always +think Middlemarch a very healthy spot. I suppose it is being used to it +from a child; but I never saw the town I should like to live at better, +and especially our end. + +I am sure I should be glad that you always should live at Middlemarch, +Mrs. Bulstrode, said Mrs. Hackbutt, with a slight sigh. Still, we +must learn to resign ourselves, wherever our lot may be cast. Though I +am sure there will always be people in this town who will wish you +well. + +Mrs. Hackbutt longed to say, if you take my advice you will part from +your husband, but it seemed clear to her that the poor woman knew +nothing of the thunder ready to bolt on her head, and she herself could +do no more than prepare her a little. Mrs. Bulstrode felt suddenly +rather chill and trembling: there was evidently something unusual +behind this speech of Mrs. Hackbutts; but though she had set out with +the desire to be fully informed, she found herself unable now to pursue +her brave purpose, and turning the conversation by an inquiry about the +young Hackbutts, she soon took her leave saying that she was going to +see Mrs. Plymdale. On her way thither she tried to imagine that there +might have been some unusually warm sparring at the meeting between Mr. +Bulstrode and some of his frequent opponentsperhaps Mr. Hackbutt might +have been one of them. That would account for everything. + +But when she was in conversation with Mrs. Plymdale that comforting +explanation seemed no longer tenable. Selina received her with a +pathetic affectionateness and a disposition to give edifying answers on +the commonest topics, which could hardly have reference to an ordinary +quarrel of which the most important consequence was a perturbation of +Mr. Bulstrodes health. Beforehand Mrs. Bulstrode had thought that she +would sooner question Mrs. Plymdale than any one else; but she found to +her surprise that an old friend is not always the person whom it is +easiest to make a confidant of: there was the barrier of remembered +communication under other circumstancesthere was the dislike of being +pitied and informed by one who had been long wont to allow her the +superiority. For certain words of mysterious appropriateness that Mrs. +Plymdale let fall about her resolution never to turn her back on her +friends, convinced Mrs. Bulstrode that what had happened must be some +kind of misfortune, and instead of being able to say with her native +directness, What is it that you have in your mind? she found herself +anxious to get away before she had heard anything more explicit. She +began to have an agitating certainty that the misfortune was something +more than the mere loss of money, being keenly sensitive to the fact +that Selina now, just as Mrs. Hackbutt had done before, avoided +noticing what she said about her husband, as they would have avoided +noticing a personal blemish. + +She said good-by with nervous haste, and told the coachman to drive to +Mr. Vincys warehouse. In that short drive her dread gathered so much +force from the sense of darkness, that when she entered the private +counting-house where her brother sat at his desk, her knees trembled +and her usually florid face was deathly pale. Something of the same +effect was produced in him by the sight of her: he rose from his seat +to meet her, took her by the hand, and said, with his impulsive +rashness + +God help you, Harriet! you know all. + +That moment was perhaps worse than any which came after. It contained +that concentrated experience which in great crises of emotion reveals +the bias of a nature, and is prophetic of the ultimate act which will +end an intermediate struggle. Without that memory of Raffles she might +still have thought only of monetary ruin, but now along with her +brothers look and words there darted into her mind the idea of some +guilt in her husbandthen, under the working of terror came the image +of her husband exposed to disgraceand then, after an instant of +scorching shame in which she felt only the eyes of the world, with one +leap of her heart she was at his side in mournful but unreproaching +fellowship with shame and isolation. All this went on within her in a +mere flash of timewhile she sank into the chair, and raised her eyes +to her brother, who stood over her. I know nothing, Walter. What is +it? she said, faintly. + +He told her everything, very inartificially, in slow fragments, making +her aware that the scandal went much beyond proof, especially as to the +end of Raffles. + +People will talk, he said. Even if a man has been acquitted by a +jury, theyll talk, and nod and winkand as far as the world goes, a +man might often as well be guilty as not. Its a breakdown blow, and it +damages Lydgate as much as Bulstrode. I dont pretend to say what is +the truth. I only wish we had never heard the name of either Bulstrode +or Lydgate. Youd better have been a Vincy all your life, and so had +Rosamond. Mrs. Bulstrode made no reply. + +But you must bear up as well as you can, Harriet. People dont blame +_you_. And Ill stand by you whatever you make up your mind to do, +said the brother, with rough but well-meaning affectionateness. + +Give me your arm to the carriage, Walter, said Mrs. Bulstrode. I +feel very weak. + +And when she got home she was obliged to say to her daughter, I am not +well, my dear; I must go and lie down. Attend to your papa. Leave me in +quiet. I shall take no dinner. + +She locked herself in her room. She needed time to get used to her +maimed consciousness, her poor lopped life, before she could walk +steadily to the place allotted her. A new searching light had fallen on +her husbands character, and she could not judge him leniently: the +twenty years in which she had believed in him and venerated him by +virtue of his concealments came back with particulars that made them +seem an odious deceit. He had married her with that bad past life +hidden behind him, and she had no faith left to protest his innocence +of the worst that was imputed to him. Her honest ostentatious nature +made the sharing of a merited dishonor as bitter as it could be to any +mortal. + +But this imperfectly taught woman, whose phrases and habits were an odd +patchwork, had a loyal spirit within her. The man whose prosperity she +had shared through nearly half a life, and who had unvaryingly +cherished hernow that punishment had befallen him it was not possible +to her in any sense to forsake him. There is a forsaking which still +sits at the same board and lies on the same couch with the forsaken +soul, withering it the more by unloving proximity. She knew, when she +locked her door, that she should unlock it ready to go down to her +unhappy husband and espouse his sorrow, and say of his guilt, I will +mourn and not reproach. But she needed time to gather up her strength; +she needed to sob out her farewell to all the gladness and pride of her +life. When she had resolved to go down, she prepared herself by some +little acts which might seem mere folly to a hard onlooker; they were +her way of expressing to all spectators visible or invisible that she +had begun a new life in which she embraced humiliation. She took off +all her ornaments and put on a plain black gown, and instead of wearing +her much-adorned cap and large bows of hair, she brushed her hair down +and put on a plain bonnet-cap, which made her look suddenly like an +early Methodist. + +Bulstrode, who knew that his wife had been out and had come in saying +that she was not well, had spent the time in an agitation equal to +hers. He had looked forward to her learning the truth from others, and +had acquiesced in that probability, as something easier to him than any +confession. But now that he imagined the moment of her knowledge come, +he awaited the result in anguish. His daughters had been obliged to +consent to leave him, and though he had allowed some food to be brought +to him, he had not touched it. He felt himself perishing slowly in +unpitied misery. Perhaps he should never see his wifes face with +affection in it again. And if he turned to God there seemed to be no +answer but the pressure of retribution. + +It was eight oclock in the evening before the door opened and his wife +entered. He dared not look up at her. He sat with his eyes bent down, +and as she went towards him she thought he looked smallerhe seemed so +withered and shrunken. A movement of new compassion and old tenderness +went through her like a great wave, and putting one hand on his which +rested on the arm of the chair, and the other on his shoulder, she +said, solemnly but kindly + +Look up, Nicholas. + +He raised his eyes with a little start and looked at her half amazed +for a moment: her pale face, her changed, mourning dress, the trembling +about her mouth, all said, I know; and her hands and eyes rested +gently on him. He burst out crying and they cried together, she sitting +at his side. They could not yet speak to each other of the shame which +she was bearing with him, or of the acts which had brought it down on +them. His confession was silent, and her promise of faithfulness was +silent. Open-minded as she was, she nevertheless shrank from the words +which would have expressed their mutual consciousness, as she would +have shrunk from flakes of fire. She could not say, How much is only +slander and false suspicion? and he did not say, I am innocent. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXV. + +Le sentiment de la fausset des plaisirs prsents, et lignorance de +la vanit des plaisirs absents causent linconstance.PASCAL. + + +Rosamond had a gleam of returning cheerfulness when the house was freed +from the threatening figure, and when all the disagreeable creditors +were paid. But she was not joyous: her married life had fulfilled none +of her hopes, and had been quite spoiled for her imagination. In this +brief interval of calm, Lydgate, remembering that he had often been +stormy in his hours of perturbation, and mindful of the pain Rosamond +had had to bear, was carefully gentle towards her; but he, too, had +lost some of his old spirit, and he still felt it necessary to refer to +an economical change in their way of living as a matter of course, +trying to reconcile her to it gradually, and repressing his anger when +she answered by wishing that he would go to live in London. When she +did not make this answer, she listened languidly, and wondered what she +had that was worth living for. The hard and contemptuous words which +had fallen from her husband in his anger had deeply offended that +vanity which he had at first called into active enjoyment; and what she +regarded as his perverse way of looking at things, kept up a secret +repulsion, which made her receive all his tenderness as a poor +substitute for the happiness he had failed to give her. They were at a +disadvantage with their neighbors, and there was no longer any outlook +towards Quallinghamthere was no outlook anywhere except in an +occasional letter from Will Ladislaw. She had felt stung and +disappointed by Wills resolution to quit Middlemarch, for in spite of +what she knew and guessed about his admiration for Dorothea, she +secretly cherished the belief that he had, or would necessarily come to +have, much more admiration for herself; Rosamond being one of those +women who live much in the idea that each man they meet would have +preferred them if the preference had not been hopeless. Mrs. Casaubon +was all very well; but Wills interest in her dated before he knew Mrs. +Lydgate. Rosamond took his way of talking to herself, which was a +mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as the +disguise of a deeper feeling; and in his presence she felt that +agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of romantic drama which +Lydgates presence had no longer the magic to create. She even +fanciedwhat will not men and women fancy in these matters?that Will +exaggerated his admiration for Mrs. Casaubon in order to pique herself. +In this way poor Rosamonds brain had been busy before Wills +departure. He would have made, she thought, a much more suitable +husband for her than she had found in Lydgate. No notion could have +been falser than this, for Rosamonds discontent in her marriage was +due to the conditions of marriage itself, to its demand for +self-suppression and tolerance, and not to the nature of her husband; +but the easy conception of an unreal Better had a sentimental charm +which diverted her ennui. She constructed a little romance which was to +vary the flatness of her life: Will Ladislaw was always to be a +bachelor and live near her, always to be at her command, and have an +understood though never fully expressed passion for her, which would be +sending out lambent flames every now and then in interesting scenes. +His departure had been a proportionate disappointment, and had sadly +increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but at first she had the +alternative dream of pleasures in store from her intercourse with the +family at Quallingham. Since then the troubles of her married life had +deepened, and the absence of other relief encouraged her regretful +rumination over that thin romance which she had once fed on. Men and +women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague +uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, and +oftener still for a mighty love. Will Ladislaw had written chatty +letters, half to her and half to Lydgate, and she had replied: their +separation, she felt, was not likely to be final, and the change she +now most longed for was that Lydgate should go to live in London; +everything would be agreeable in London; and she had set to work with +quiet determination to win this result, when there came a sudden, +delightful promise which inspirited her. + +It came shortly before the memorable meeting at the town-hall, and was +nothing less than a letter from Will Ladislaw to Lydgate, which turned +indeed chiefly on his new interest in plans of colonization, but +mentioned incidentally, that he might find it necessary to pay a visit +to Middlemarch within the next few weeksa very pleasant necessity, he +said, almost as good as holidays to a schoolboy. He hoped there was his +old place on the rug, and a great deal of music in store for him. But +he was quite uncertain as to the time. While Lydgate was reading the +letter to Rosamond, her face looked like a reviving flowerit grew +prettier and more blooming. There was nothing unendurable now: the +debts were paid, Mr. Ladislaw was coming, and Lydgate would be +persuaded to leave Middlemarch and settle in London, which was so +different from a provincial town. + +That was a bright bit of morning. But soon the sky became black over +poor Rosamond. The presence of a new gloom in her husband, about which +he was entirely reserved towards herfor he dreaded to expose his +lacerated feeling to her neutrality and misconceptionsoon received a +painfully strange explanation, alien to all her previous notions of +what could affect her happiness. In the new gayety of her spirits, +thinking that Lydgate had merely a worse fit of moodiness than usual, +causing him to leave her remarks unanswered, and evidently to keep out +of her way as much as possible, she chose, a few days after the +meeting, and without speaking to him on the subject, to send out notes +of invitation for a small evening party, feeling convinced that this +was a judicious step, since people seemed to have been keeping aloof +from them, and wanted restoring to the old habit of intercourse. When +the invitations had been accepted, she would tell Lydgate, and give him +a wise admonition as to how a medical man should behave to his +neighbors; for Rosamond had the gravest little airs possible about +other peoples duties. But all the invitations were declined, and the +last answer came into Lydgates hands. + +This is Chichelys scratch. What is he writing to you about? said +Lydgate, wonderingly, as he handed the note to her. She was obliged to +let him see it, and, looking at her severely, he said + +Why on earth have you been sending out invitations without telling me, +Rosamond? I beg, I insist that you will not invite any one to this +house. I suppose you have been inviting others, and they have refused +too. She said nothing. + +Do you hear me? thundered Lydgate. + +Yes, certainly I hear you, said Rosamond, turning her head aside with +the movement of a graceful long-necked bird. + +Lydgate tossed his head without any grace and walked out of the room, +feeling himself dangerous. Rosamonds thought was, that he was getting +more and more unbearablenot that there was any new special reason for +this peremptoriness. His indisposition to tell her anything in which he +was sure beforehand that she would not be interested was growing into +an unreflecting habit, and she was in ignorance of everything connected +with the thousand pounds except that the loan had come from her uncle +Bulstrode. Lydgates odious humors and their neighbors apparent +avoidance of them had an unaccountable date for her in their relief +from money difficulties. If the invitations had been accepted she would +have gone to invite her mamma and the rest, whom she had seen nothing +of for several days; and she now put on her bonnet to go and inquire +what had become of them all, suddenly feeling as if there were a +conspiracy to leave her in isolation with a husband disposed to offend +everybody. It was after the dinner hour, and she found her father and +mother seated together alone in the drawing-room. They greeted her with +sad looks, saying Well, my dear! and no more. She had never seen her +father look so downcast; and seating herself near him she said + +Is there anything the matter, papa? + +He did not answer, but Mrs. Vincy said, Oh, my dear, have you heard +nothing? It wont be long before it reaches you. + +Is it anything about Tertius? said Rosamond, turning pale. The idea +of trouble immediately connected itself with what had been +unaccountable to her in him. + +Oh, my dear, yes. To think of your marrying into this trouble. Debt +was bad enough, but this will be worse. + +Stay, stay, Lucy, said Mr. Vincy. Have you heard nothing about your +uncle Bulstrode, Rosamond? + +No, papa, said the poor thing, feeling as if trouble were not +anything she had before experienced, but some invisible power with an +iron grasp that made her soul faint within her. + +Her father told her everything, saying at the end, Its better for you +to know, my dear. I think Lydgate must leave the town. Things have gone +against him. I dare say he couldnt help it. I dont accuse him of any +harm, said Mr. Vincy. He had always before been disposed to find the +utmost fault with Lydgate. + +The shock to Rosamond was terrible. It seemed to her that no lot could +be so cruelly hard as hers to have married a man who had become the +centre of infamous suspicions. In many cases it is inevitable that the +shame is felt to be the worst part of crime; and it would have required +a great deal of disentangling reflection, such as had never entered +into Rosamonds life, for her in these moments to feel that her trouble +was less than if her husband had been certainly known to have done +something criminal. All the shame seemed to be there. And she had +innocently married this man with the belief that he and his family were +a glory to her! She showed her usual reticence to her parents, and only +said, that if Lydgate had done as she wished he would have left +Middlemarch long ago. + +She bears it beyond anything, said her mother when she was gone. + +Ah, thank God! said Mr. Vincy, who was much broken down. + +But Rosamond went home with a sense of justified repugnance towards her +husband. What had he really donehow had he really acted? She did not +know. Why had he not told her everything? He did not speak to her on +the subject, and of course she could not speak to him. It came into her +mind once that she would ask her father to let her go home again; but +dwelling on that prospect made it seem utter dreariness to her: a +married woman gone back to live with her parentslife seemed to have no +meaning for her in such a position: she could not contemplate herself +in it. + +The next two days Lydgate observed a change in her, and believed that +she had heard the bad news. Would she speak to him about it, or would +she go on forever in the silence which seemed to imply that she +believed him guilty? We must remember that he was in a morbid state of +mind, in which almost all contact was pain. Certainly Rosamond in this +case had equal reason to complain of reserve and want of confidence on +his part; but in the bitterness of his soul he excused himself;was he +not justified in shrinking from the task of telling her, since now she +knew the truth she had no impulse to speak to him? But a deeper-lying +consciousness that he was in fault made him restless, and the silence +between them became intolerable to him; it was as if they were both +adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other. + +He thought, I am a fool. Havent I given up expecting anything? I have +married care, not help. And that evening he said + +Rosamond, have you heard anything that distresses you? + +Yes, she answered, laying down her work, which she had been carrying +on with a languid semi-consciousness, most unlike her usual self. + +What have you heard? + +Everything, I suppose. Papa told me. + +That people think me disgraced? + +Yes, said Rosamond, faintly, beginning to sew again automatically. + +There was silence. Lydgate thought, If she has any trust in meany +notion of what I am, she ought to speak now and say that she does not +believe I have deserved disgrace. + +But Rosamond on her side went on moving her fingers languidly. Whatever +was to be said on the subject she expected to come from Tertius. What +did she know? And if he were innocent of any wrong, why did he not do +something to clear himself? + +This silence of hers brought a new rush of gall to that bitter mood in +which Lydgate had been saying to himself that nobody believed in +himeven Farebrother had not come forward. He had begun to question her +with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog +which had gathered between them, but he felt his resolution checked by +despairing resentment. Even this trouble, like the rest, she seemed to +regard as if it were hers alone. He was always to her a being apart, +doing what she objected to. He started from his chair with an angry +impulse, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, walked up and down the +room. There was an underlying consciousness all the while that he +should have to master this anger, and tell her everything, and convince +her of the facts. For he had almost learned the lesson that he must +bend himself to her nature, and that because she came short in her +sympathy, he must give the more. Soon he recurred to his intention of +opening himself: the occasion must not be lost. If he could bring her +to feel with some solemnity that here was a slander which must be met +and not run away from, and that the whole trouble had come out of his +desperate want of money, it would be a moment for urging powerfully on +her that they should be one in the resolve to do with as little money +as possible, so that they might weather the bad time and keep +themselves independent. He would mention the definite measures which he +desired to take, and win her to a willing spirit. He was bound to try +thisand what else was there for him to do? + +He did not know how long he had been walking uneasily backwards and +forwards, but Rosamond felt that it was long, and wished that he would +sit down. She too had begun to think this an opportunity for urging on +Tertius what he ought to do. Whatever might be the truth about all this +misery, there was one dread which asserted itself. + +Lydgate at last seated himself, not in his usual chair, but in one +nearer to Rosamond, leaning aside in it towards her, and looking at her +gravely before he reopened the sad subject. He had conquered himself so +far, and was about to speak with a sense of solemnity, as on an +occasion which was not to be repeated. He had even opened his lips, +when Rosamond, letting her hands fall, looked at him and said + +Surely, Tertius + +Well? + +Surely now at last you have given up the idea of staying in +Middlemarch. I cannot go on living here. Let us go to London. Papa, and +every one else, says you had better go. Whatever misery I have to put +up with, it will be easier away from here. + +Lydgate felt miserably jarred. Instead of that critical outpouring for +which he had prepared himself with effort, here was the old round to be +gone through again. He could not bear it. With a quick change of +countenance he rose and went out of the room. + +Perhaps if he had been strong enough to persist in his determination to +be the more because she was less, that evening might have had a better +issue. If his energy could have borne down that check, he might still +have wrought on Rosamonds vision and will. We cannot be sure that any +natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will resist this effect from a +more massive being than their own. They may be taken by storm and for +the moment converted, becoming part of the soul which enwraps them in +the ardor of its movement. But poor Lydgate had a throbbing pain within +him, and his energy had fallen short of its task. + +The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far off as +ever; nay, it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort. +They lived on from day to day with their thoughts still apart, Lydgate +going about what work he had in a mood of despair, and Rosamond +feeling, with some justification, that he was behaving cruelly. It was +of no use to say anything to Tertius; but when Will Ladislaw came, she +was determined to tell him everything. In spite of her general +reticence, she needed some one who would recognize her wrongs. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVI. + +To mercy, pity, peace, and love + All pray in their distress, +And to these virtues of delight, + Return their thankfulness. +. . . . . . +For Mercy has a human heart, + Pity a human face; +And Love, the human form divine; + And Peace, the human dress. +WILLIAM BLAKE: _Songs of Innocence_. + + +Some days later, Lydgate was riding to Lowick Manor, in consequence of +a summons from Dorothea. The summons had not been unexpected, since it +had followed a letter from Mr. Bulstrode, in which he stated that he +had resumed his arrangements for quitting Middlemarch, and must remind +Lydgate of his previous communications about the Hospital, to the +purport of which he still adhered. It had been his duty, before taking +further steps, to reopen the subject with Mrs. Casaubon, who now +wished, as before, to discuss the question with Lydgate. Your views +may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode; but, in +that case also, it is desirable that you should lay them before her. + +Dorothea awaited his arrival with eager interest. Though, in deference +to her masculine advisers, she had refrained from what Sir James had +called interfering in this Bulstrode business, the hardship of +Lydgates position was continually in her mind, and when Bulstrode +applied to her again about the hospital, she felt that the opportunity +was come to her which she had been hindered from hastening. In her +luxurious home, wandering under the boughs of her own great trees, her +thought was going out over the lot of others, and her emotions were +imprisoned. The idea of some active good within her reach, haunted her +like a passion, and anothers need having once come to her as a +distinct image, preoccupied her desire with the yearning to give +relief, and made her own ease tasteless. She was full of confident hope +about this interview with Lydgate, never heeding what was said of his +personal reserve; never heeding that she was a very young woman. +Nothing could have seemed more irrelevant to Dorothea than insistence +on her youth and sex when she was moved to show her human fellowship. + +As she sat waiting in the library, she could do nothing but live +through again all the past scenes which had brought Lydgate into her +memories. They all owed their significance to her marriage and its +troublesbut no; there were two occasions in which the image of Lydgate +had come painfully in connection with his wife and some one else. The +pain had been allayed for Dorothea, but it had left in her an awakened +conjecture as to what Lydgates marriage might be to him, a +susceptibility to the slightest hint about Mrs. Lydgate. These thoughts +were like a drama to her, and made her eyes bright, and gave an +attitude of suspense to her whole frame, though she was only looking +out from the brown library on to the turf and the bright green buds +which stood in relief against the dark evergreens. + +When Lydgate came in, she was almost shocked at the change in his face, +which was strikingly perceptible to her who had not seen him for two +months. It was not the change of emaciation, but that effect which even +young faces will very soon show from the persistent presence of +resentment and despondency. Her cordial look, when she put out her hand +to him, softened his expression, but only with melancholy. + +I have wished very much to see you for a long while, Mr. Lydgate, +said Dorothea when they were seated opposite each other; but I put off +asking you to come until Mr. Bulstrode applied to me again about the +Hospital. I know that the advantage of keeping the management of it +separate from that of the Infirmary depends on you, or, at least, on +the good which you are encouraged to hope for from having it under your +control. And I am sure you will not refuse to tell me exactly what you +think. + +You want to decide whether you should give a generous support to the +Hospital, said Lydgate. I cannot conscientiously advise you to do it +in dependence on any activity of mine. I may be obliged to leave the +town. + +He spoke curtly, feeling the ache of despair as to his being able to +carry out any purpose that Rosamond had set her mind against. + +Not because there is no one to believe in you? said Dorothea, pouring +out her words in clearness from a full heart. I know the unhappy +mistakes about you. I knew them from the first moment to be mistakes. +You have never done anything vile. You would not do anything +dishonorable. + +It was the first assurance of belief in him that had fallen on +Lydgates ears. He drew a deep breath, and said, Thank you. He could +say no more: it was something very new and strange in his life that +these few words of trust from a woman should be so much to him. + +I beseech you to tell me how everything was, said Dorothea, +fearlessly. I am sure that the truth would clear you. + +Lydgate started up from his chair and went towards the window, +forgetting where he was. He had so often gone over in his mind the +possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances +that would tell, perhaps unfairly, against Bulstrode, and had so often +decided against ithe had so often said to himself that his assertions +would not change peoples impressionsthat Dorotheas words sounded +like a temptation to do something which in his soberness he had +pronounced to be unreasonable. + +Tell me, pray, said Dorothea, with simple earnestness; then we can +consult together. It is wicked to let people think evil of any one +falsely, when it can be hindered. + +Lydgate turned, remembering where he was, and saw Dorotheas face +looking up at him with a sweet trustful gravity. The presence of a +noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes +the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, +quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in +the wholeness of our character. That influence was beginning to act on +Lydgate, who had for many days been seeing all life as one who is +dragged and struggling amid the throng. He sat down again, and felt +that he was recovering his old self in the consciousness that he was +with one who believed in it. + +I dont want, he said, to bear hard on Bulstrode, who has lent me +money of which I was in needthough I would rather have gone without it +now. He is hunted down and miserable, and has only a poor thread of +life in him. But I should like to tell you everything. It will be a +comfort to me to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and where I +shall not seem to be offering assertions of my own honesty. You will +feel what is fair to another, as you feel what is fair to me. + +Do trust me, said Dorothea; I will not repeat anything without your +leave. But at the very least, I could say that you have made all the +circumstances clear to me, and that I know you are not in any way +guilty. Mr. Farebrother would believe me, and my uncle, and Sir James +Chettam. Nay, there are persons in Middlemarch to whom I could go; +although they dont know much of me, they would believe me. They would +know that I could have no other motive than truth and justice. I would +take any pains to clear you. I have very little to do. There is nothing +better that I can do in the world. + +Dorotheas voice, as she made this childlike picture of what she would +do, might have been almost taken as a proof that she could do it +effectively. The searching tenderness of her womans tones seemed made +for a defence against ready accusers. Lydgate did not stay to think +that she was Quixotic: he gave himself up, for the first time in his +life, to the exquisite sense of leaning entirely on a generous +sympathy, without any check of proud reserve. And he told her +everything, from the time when, under the pressure of his difficulties, +he unwillingly made his first application to Bulstrode; gradually, in +the relief of speaking, getting into a more thorough utterance of what +had gone on in his mindentering fully into the fact that his treatment +of the patient was opposed to the dominant practice, into his doubts at +the last, his ideal of medical duty, and his uneasy consciousness that +the acceptance of the money had made some difference in his private +inclination and professional behavior, though not in his fulfilment of +any publicly recognized obligation. + +It has come to my knowledge since, he added, that Hawley sent some +one to examine the housekeeper at Stone Court, and she said that she +gave the patient all the opium in the phial I left, as well as a good +deal of brandy. But that would not have been opposed to ordinary +prescriptions, even of first-rate men. The suspicions against me had no +hold there: they are grounded on the knowledge that I took money, that +Bulstrode had strong motives for wishing the man to die, and that he +gave me the money as a bribe to concur in some malpractices or other +against the patientthat in any case I accepted a bribe to hold my +tongue. They are just the suspicions that cling the most obstinately, +because they lie in peoples inclination and can never be disproved. +How my orders came to be disobeyed is a question to which I dont know +the answer. It is still possible that Bulstrode was innocent of any +criminal intentioneven possible that he had nothing to do with the +disobedience, and merely abstained from mentioning it. But all that has +nothing to do with the public belief. It is one of those cases on which +a man is condemned on the ground of his characterit is believed that +he has committed a crime in some undefined way, because he had the +motive for doing it; and Bulstrodes character has enveloped me, +because I took his money. I am simply blightedlike a damaged ear of +cornthe business is done and cant be undone. + +Oh, it is hard! said Dorothea. I understand the difficulty there is +in your vindicating yourself. And that all this should have come to you +who had meant to lead a higher life than the common, and to find out +better waysI cannot bear to rest in this as unchangeable. I know you +meant that. I remember what you said to me when you first spoke to me +about the hospital. There is no sorrow I have thought more about than +thatto love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail. + +Yes, said Lydgate, feeling that here he had found room for the full +meaning of his grief. I had some ambition. I meant everything to be +different with me. I thought I had more strength and mastery. But the +most terrible obstacles are such as nobody can see except oneself. + +Suppose, said Dorothea, meditatively,suppose we kept on the +Hospital according to the present plan, and you stayed here though only +with the friendship and support of a few, the evil feeling towards you +would gradually die out; there would come opportunities in which people +would be forced to acknowledge that they had been unjust to you, +because they would see that your purposes were pure. You may still win +a great fame like the Louis and Laennec I have heard you speak of, and +we shall all be proud of you, she ended, with a smile. + +That might do if I had my old trust in myself, said Lydgate, +mournfully. Nothing galls me more than the notion of turning round and +running away before this slander, leaving it unchecked behind me. +Still, I cant ask any one to put a great deal of money into a plan +which depends on me. + +It would be quite worth my while, said Dorothea, simply. Only think. +I am very uncomfortable with my money, because they tell me I have too +little for any great scheme of the sort I like best, and yet I have too +much. I dont know what to do. I have seven hundred a-year of my own +fortune, and nineteen hundred a-year that Mr. Casaubon left me, and +between three and four thousand of ready money in the bank. I wished to +raise money and pay it off gradually out of my income which I dont +want, to buy land with and found a village which should be a school of +industry; but Sir James and my uncle have convinced me that the risk +would be too great. So you see that what I should most rejoice at would +be to have something good to do with my money: I should like it to make +other peoples lives better to them. It makes me very uneasycoming all +to me who dont want it. + +A smile broke through the gloom of Lydgates face. The childlike +grave-eyed earnestness with which Dorothea said all this was +irresistibleblent into an adorable whole with her ready understanding +of high experience. (Of lower experience such as plays a great part in +the world, poor Mrs. Casaubon had a very blurred shortsighted +knowledge, little helped by her imagination.) But she took the smile as +encouragement of her plan. + +I think you see now that you spoke too scrupulously, she said, in a +tone of persuasion. The hospital would be one good; and making your +life quite whole and well again would be another. + +Lydgates smile had died away. You have the goodness as well as the +money to do all that; if it could be done, he said. But + +He hesitated a little while, looking vaguely towards the window; and +she sat in silent expectation. At last he turned towards her and said +impetuously + +Why should I not tell you?you know what sort of bond marriage is. You +will understand everything. + +Dorothea felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Had he that sorrow +too? But she feared to say any word, and he went on immediately. + +It is impossible for me now to do anythingto take any step without +considering my wifes happiness. The thing that I might like to do if I +were alone, is become impossible to me. I cant see her miserable. She +married me without knowing what she was going into, and it might have +been better for her if she had not married me. + +I know, I knowyou could not give her pain, if you were not obliged to +do it, said Dorothea, with keen memory of her own life. + +And she has set her mind against staying. She wishes to go. The +troubles she has had here have wearied her, said Lydgate, breaking off +again, lest he should say too much. + +But when she saw the good that might come of staying said Dorothea, +remonstrantly, looking at Lydgate as if he had forgotten the reasons +which had just been considered. He did not speak immediately. + +She would not see it, he said at last, curtly, feeling at first that +this statement must do without explanation. And, indeed, I have lost +all spirit about carrying on my life here. He paused a moment and +then, following the impulse to let Dorothea see deeper into the +difficulty of his life, he said, The fact is, this trouble has come +upon her confusedly. We have not been able to speak to each other about +it. I am not sure what is in her mind about it: she may fear that I +have really done something base. It is my fault; I ought to be more +open. But I have been suffering cruelly. + +May I go and see her? said Dorothea, eagerly. Would she accept my +sympathy? I would tell her that you have not been blamable before any +ones judgment but your own. I would tell her that you shall be cleared +in every fair mind. I would cheer her heart. Will you ask her if I may +go to see her? I did see her once. + +I am sure you may, said Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some +hope. She would feel honoredcheered, I think, by the proof that you +at least have some respect for me. I will not speak to her about your +comingthat she may not connect it with my wishes at all. I know very +well that I ought not to have left anything to be told her by others, +but + +He broke off, and there was a moments silence. Dorothea refrained from +saying what was in her mindhow well she knew that there might be +invisible barriers to speech between husband and wife. This was a point +on which even sympathy might make a wound. She returned to the more +outward aspect of Lydgates position, saying cheerfully + +And if Mrs. Lydgate knew that there were friends who would believe in +you and support you, she might then be glad that you should stay in +your place and recover your hopesand do what you meant to do. Perhaps +then you would see that it was right to agree with what I proposed +about your continuing at the Hospital. Surely you would, if you still +have faith in it as a means of making your knowledge useful? + +Lydgate did not answer, and she saw that he was debating with himself. + +You need not decide immediately, she said, gently. A few days hence +it will be early enough for me to send my answer to Mr. Bulstrode. + +Lydgate still waited, but at last turned to speak in his most decisive +tones. + +No; I prefer that there should be no interval left for wavering. I am +no longer sure enough of myselfI mean of what it would be possible for +me to do under the changed circumstances of my life. It would be +dishonorable to let others engage themselves to anything serious in +dependence on me. I might be obliged to go away after all; I see little +chance of anything else. The whole thing is too problematic; I cannot +consent to be the cause of your goodness being wasted. Nolet the new +Hospital be joined with the old Infirmary, and everything go on as it +might have done if I had never come. I have kept a valuable register +since I have been there; I shall send it to a man who will make use of +it, he ended bitterly. I can think of nothing for a long while but +getting an income. + +It hurts me very much to hear you speak so hopelessly, said Dorothea. +It would be a happiness to your friends, who believe in your future, +in your power to do great things, if you would let them save you from +that. Think how much money I have; it would be like taking a burthen +from me if you took some of it every year till you got free from this +fettering want of income. Why should not people do these things? It is +so difficult to make shares at all even. This is one way. + +God bless you, Mrs. Casaubon! said Lydgate, rising as if with the +same impulse that made his words energetic, and resting his arm on the +back of the great leather chair he had been sitting in. It is good +that you should have such feelings. But I am not the man who ought to +allow himself to benefit by them. I have not given guarantees enough. I +must not at least sink into the degradation of being pensioned for work +that I never achieved. It is very clear to me that I must not count on +anything else than getting away from Middlemarch as soon as I can +manage it. I should not be able for a long while, at the very best, to +get an income here, andand it is easier to make necessary changes in a +new place. I must do as other men do, and think what will please the +world and bring in money; look for a little opening in the London +crowd, and push myself; set up in a watering-place, or go to some +southern town where there are plenty of idle English, and get myself +puffed,that is the sort of shell I must creep into and try to keep my +soul alive in. + +Now that is not brave, said Dorothea,to give up the fight. + +No, it is not brave, said Lydgate, but if a man is afraid of +creeping paralysis? Then, in another tone, Yet you have made a great +difference in my courage by believing in me. Everything seems more +bearable since I have talked to you; and if you can clear me in a few +other minds, especially in Farebrothers, I shall be deeply grateful. +The point I wish you not to mention is the fact of disobedience to my +orders. That would soon get distorted. After all, there is no evidence +for me but peoples opinion of me beforehand. You can only repeat my +own report of myself. + +Mr. Farebrother will believeothers will believe, said Dorothea. I +can say of you what will make it stupidity to suppose that you would be +bribed to do a wickedness. + +I dont know, said Lydgate, with something like a groan in his voice. +I have not taken a bribe yet. But there is a pale shade of bribery +which is sometimes called prosperity. You will do me another great +kindness, then, and come to see my wife? + +Yes, I will. I remember how pretty she is, said Dorothea, into whose +mind every impression about Rosamond had cut deep. I hope she will +like me. + +As Lydgate rode away, he thought, This young creature has a heart +large enough for the Virgin Mary. She evidently thinks nothing of her +own future, and would pledge away half her income at once, as if she +wanted nothing for herself but a chair to sit in from which she can +look down with those clear eyes at the poor mortals who pray to her. +She seems to have what I never saw in any woman beforea fountain of +friendship towards mena man can make a friend of her. Casaubon must +have raised some heroic hallucination in her. I wonder if she could +have any other sort of passion for a man? Ladislaw?there was certainly +an unusual feeling between them. And Casaubon must have had a notion of +it. Wellher love might help a man more than her money. + +Dorothea on her side had immediately formed a plan of relieving Lydgate +from his obligation to Bulstrode, which she felt sure was a part, +though small, of the galling pressure he had to bear. She sat down at +once under the inspiration of their interview, and wrote a brief note, +in which she pleaded that she had more claim than Mr. Bulstrode had to +the satisfaction of providing the money which had been serviceable to +Lydgatethat it would be unkind in Lydgate not to grant her the +position of being his helper in this small matter, the favor being +entirely to her who had so little that was plainly marked out for her +to do with her superfluous money. He might call her a creditor or by +any other name if it did but imply that he granted her request. She +enclosed a check for a thousand pounds, and determined to take the +letter with her the next day when she went to see Rosamond. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVII. + +And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, +To mark the full-fraught man and best indued +With some suspicion. +_Henry V_. + + +The next day Lydgate had to go to Brassing, and told Rosamond that he +should be away until the evening. Of late she had never gone beyond her +own house and garden, except to church, and once to see her papa, to +whom she said, If Tertius goes away, you will help us to move, will +you not, papa? I suppose we shall have very little money. I am sure I +hope some one will help us. And Mr. Vincy had said, Yes, child, I +dont mind a hundred or two. I can see the end of that. With these +exceptions she had sat at home in languid melancholy and suspense, +fixing her mind on Will Ladislaws coming as the one point of hope and +interest, and associating this with some new urgency on Lydgate to make +immediate arrangements for leaving Middlemarch and going to London, +till she felt assured that the coming would be a potent cause of the +going, without at all seeing how. This way of establishing sequences is +too common to be fairly regarded as a peculiar folly in Rosamond. And +it is precisely this sort of sequence which causes the greatest shock +when it is sundered: for to see how an effect may be produced is often +to see possible missings and checks; but to see nothing except the +desirable cause, and close upon it the desirable effect, rids us of +doubt and makes our minds strongly intuitive. That was the process +going on in poor Rosamond, while she arranged all objects around her +with the same nicety as ever, only with more slownessor sat down to +the piano, meaning to play, and then desisting, yet lingering on the +music stool with her white fingers suspended on the wooden front, and +looking before her in dreamy ennui. Her melancholy had become so marked +that Lydgate felt a strange timidity before it, as a perpetual silent +reproach, and the strong man, mastered by his keen sensibilities +towards this fair fragile creature whose life he seemed somehow to have +bruised, shrank from her look, and sometimes started at her approach, +fear of her and fear for her rushing in only the more forcibly after it +had been momentarily expelled by exasperation. + +But this morning Rosamond descended from her room upstairswhere she +sometimes sat the whole day when Lydgate was outequipped for a walk in +the town. She had a letter to posta letter addressed to Mr. Ladislaw +and written with charming discretion, but intended to hasten his +arrival by a hint of trouble. The servant-maid, their sole +house-servant now, noticed her coming down-stairs in her walking dress, +and thought there never did anybody look so pretty in a bonnet poor +thing. + +Meanwhile Dorotheas mind was filled with her project of going to +Rosamond, and with the many thoughts, both of the past and the probable +future, which gathered round the idea of that visit. Until yesterday +when Lydgate had opened to her a glimpse of some trouble in his married +life, the image of Mrs. Lydgate had always been associated for her with +that of Will Ladislaw. Even in her most uneasy momentseven when she +had been agitated by Mrs. Cadwalladers painfully graphic report of +gossipher effort, nay, her strongest impulsive prompting, had been +towards the vindication of Will from any sullying surmises; and when, +in her meeting with him afterwards, she had at first interpreted his +words as a probable allusion to a feeling towards Mrs. Lydgate which he +was determined to cut himself off from indulging, she had had a quick, +sad, excusing vision of the charm there might be in his constant +opportunities of companionship with that fair creature, who most likely +shared his other tastes as she evidently did his delight in music. But +there had followed his parting wordsthe few passionate words in which +he had implied that she herself was the object of whom his love held +him in dread, that it was his love for her only which he was resolved +not to declare but to carry away into banishment. From the time of that +parting, Dorothea, believing in Wills love for her, believing with a +proud delight in his delicate sense of honor and his determination that +no one should impeach him justly, felt her heart quite at rest as to +the regard he might have for Mrs. Lydgate. She was sure that the regard +was blameless. + +There are natures in which, if they love us, we are conscious of having +a sort of baptism and consecration: they bind us over to rectitude and +purity by their pure belief about us; and our sins become that worst +kind of sacrilege which tears down the invisible altar of trust. If +you are not good, none is goodthose little words may give a terrific +meaning to responsibility, may hold a vitriolic intensity for remorse. + +Dorotheas nature was of that kind: her own passionate faults lay along +the easily counted open channels of her ardent character; and while she +was full of pity for the visible mistakes of others, she had not yet +any material within her experience for subtle constructions and +suspicions of hidden wrong. But that simplicity of hers, holding up an +ideal for others in her believing conception of them, was one of the +great powers of her womanhood. And it had from the first acted strongly +on Will Ladislaw. He felt, when he parted from her, that the brief +words by which he had tried to convey to her his feeling about herself +and the division which her fortune made between them, would only profit +by their brevity when Dorothea had to interpret them: he felt that in +her mind he had found his highest estimate. + +And he was right there. In the months since their parting Dorothea had +felt a delicious though sad repose in their relation to each other, as +one which was inwardly whole and without blemish. She had an active +force of antagonism within her, when the antagonism turned on the +defence either of plans or persons that she believed in; and the wrongs +which she felt that Will had received from her husband, and the +external conditions which to others were grounds for slighting him, +only gave the more tenacity to her affection and admiring judgment. And +now with the disclosures about Bulstrode had come another fact +affecting Wills social position, which roused afresh Dorotheas inward +resistance to what was said about him in that part of her world which +lay within park palings. + +Young Ladislaw the grandson of a thieving Jew pawnbroker was a phrase +which had entered emphatically into the dialogues about the Bulstrode +business, at Lowick, Tipton, and Freshitt, and was a worse kind of +placard on poor Wills back than the Italian with white mice. Upright +Sir James Chettam was convinced that his own satisfaction was righteous +when he thought with some complacency that here was an added league to +that mountainous distance between Ladislaw and Dorothea, which enabled +him to dismiss any anxiety in that direction as too absurd. And perhaps +there had been some pleasure in pointing Mr. Brookes attention to this +ugly bit of Ladislaws genealogy, as a fresh candle for him to see his +own folly by. Dorothea had observed the animus with which Wills part +in the painful story had been recalled more than once; but she had +uttered no word, being checked now, as she had not been formerly in +speaking of Will, by the consciousness of a deeper relation between +them which must always remain in consecrated secrecy. But her silence +shrouded her resistant emotion into a more thorough glow; and this +misfortune in Wills lot which, it seemed, others were wishing to fling +at his back as an opprobrium, only gave something more of enthusiasm to +her clinging thought. + +She entertained no visions of their ever coming into nearer union, and +yet she had taken no posture of renunciation. She had accepted her +whole relation to Will very simply as part of her marriage sorrows, and +would have thought it very sinful in her to keep up an inward wail +because she was not completely happy, being rather disposed to dwell on +the superfluities of her lot. She could bear that the chief pleasures +of her tenderness should lie in memory, and the idea of marriage came +to her solely as a repulsive proposition from some suitor of whom she +at present knew nothing, but whose merits, as seen by her friends, +would be a source of torment to her:somebody who will manage your +property for you, my dear, was Mr. Brookes attractive suggestion of +suitable characteristics. I should like to manage it myself, if I knew +what to do with it, said Dorothea. Noshe adhered to her declaration +that she would never be married again, and in the long valley of her +life which looked so flat and empty of waymarks, guidance would come as +she walked along the road, and saw her fellow-passengers by the way. + +This habitual state of feeling about Will Ladislaw had been strong in +all her waking hours since she had proposed to pay a visit to Mrs. +Lydgate, making a sort of background against which she saw Rosamonds +figure presented to her without hindrances to her interest and +compassion. There was evidently some mental separation, some barrier to +complete confidence which had arisen between this wife and the husband +who had yet made her happiness a law to him. That was a trouble which +no third person must directly touch. But Dorothea thought with deep +pity of the loneliness which must have come upon Rosamond from the +suspicions cast on her husband; and there would surely be help in the +manifestation of respect for Lydgate and sympathy with her. + +I shall talk to her about her husband, thought Dorothea, as she was +being driven towards the town. The clear spring morning, the scent of +the moist earth, the fresh leaves just showing their creased-up wealth +of greenery from out their half-opened sheaths, seemed part of the +cheerfulness she was feeling from a long conversation with Mr. +Farebrother, who had joyfully accepted the justifying explanation of +Lydgates conduct. I shall take Mrs. Lydgate good news, and perhaps +she will like to talk to me and make a friend of me. + +Dorothea had another errand in Lowick Gate: it was about a new +fine-toned bell for the school-house, and as she had to get out of her +carriage very near to Lydgates, she walked thither across the street, +having told the coachman to wait for some packages. The street door was +open, and the servant was taking the opportunity of looking out at the +carriage which was pausing within sight when it became apparent to her +that the lady who belonged to it was coming towards her. + +Is Mrs. Lydgate at home? said Dorothea. + +Im not sure, my lady; Ill see, if youll please to walk in, said +Martha, a little confused on the score of her kitchen apron, but +collected enough to be sure that mum was not the right title for this +queenly young widow with a carriage and pair. Will you please to walk +in, and Ill go and see. + +Say that I am Mrs. Casaubon, said Dorothea, as Martha moved forward +intending to show her into the drawing-room and then to go up-stairs to +see if Rosamond had returned from her walk. + +They crossed the broader part of the entrance-hall, and turned up the +passage which led to the garden. The drawing-room door was unlatched, +and Martha, pushing it without looking into the room, waited for Mrs. +Casaubon to enter and then turned away, the door having swung open and +swung back again without noise. + +Dorothea had less of outward vision than usual this morning, being +filled with images of things as they had been and were going to be. She +found herself on the other side of the door without seeing anything +remarkable, but immediately she heard a voice speaking in low tones +which startled her as with a sense of dreaming in daylight, and +advancing unconsciously a step or two beyond the projecting slab of a +bookcase, she saw, in the terrible illumination of a certainty which +filled up all outlines, something which made her pause, motionless, +without self-possession enough to speak. + +Seated with his back towards her on a sofa which stood against the wall +on a line with the door by which she had entered, she saw Will +Ladislaw: close by him and turned towards him with a flushed +tearfulness which gave a new brilliancy to her face sat Rosamond, her +bonnet hanging back, while Will leaning towards her clasped both her +upraised hands in his and spoke with low-toned fervor. + +Rosamond in her agitated absorption had not noticed the silently +advancing figure; but when Dorothea, after the first immeasurable +instant of this vision, moved confusedly backward and found herself +impeded by some piece of furniture, Rosamond was suddenly aware of her +presence, and with a spasmodic movement snatched away her hands and +rose, looking at Dorothea who was necessarily arrested. Will Ladislaw, +starting up, looked round also, and meeting Dorotheas eyes with a new +lightning in them, seemed changing to marble. But she immediately +turned them away from him to Rosamond and said in a firm voice + +Excuse me, Mrs. Lydgate, the servant did not know that you were here. +I called to deliver an important letter for Mr. Lydgate, which I wished +to put into your own hands. + +She laid down the letter on the small table which had checked her +retreat, and then including Rosamond and Will in one distant glance and +bow, she went quickly out of the room, meeting in the passage the +surprised Martha, who said she was sorry the mistress was not at home, +and then showed the strange lady out with an inward reflection that +grand people were probably more impatient than others. + +Dorothea walked across the street with her most elastic step and was +quickly in her carriage again. + +Drive on to Freshitt Hall, she said to the coachman, and any one +looking at her might have thought that though she was paler than usual +she was never animated by a more self-possessed energy. And that was +really her experience. It was as if she had drunk a great draught of +scorn that stimulated her beyond the susceptibility to other feelings. +She had seen something so far below her belief, that her emotions +rushed back from it and made an excited throng without an object. She +needed something active to turn her excitement out upon. She felt power +to walk and work for a day, without meat or drink. And she would carry +out the purpose with which she had started in the morning, of going to +Freshitt and Tipton to tell Sir James and her uncle all that she wished +them to know about Lydgate, whose married loneliness under his trial +now presented itself to her with new significance, and made her more +ardent in readiness to be his champion. She had never felt anything +like this triumphant power of indignation in the struggle of her +married life, in which there had always been a quickly subduing pang; +and she took it as a sign of new strength. + +Dodo, how very bright your eyes are! said Celia, when Sir James was +gone out of the room. And you dont see anything you look at, Arthur +or anything. You are going to do something uncomfortable, I know. Is it +all about Mr. Lydgate, or has something else happened? Celia had been +used to watch her sister with expectation. + +Yes, dear, a great many things have happened, said Dodo, in her full +tones. + +I wonder what, said Celia, folding her arms cozily and leaning +forward upon them. + +Oh, all the troubles of all people on the face of the earth, said +Dorothea, lifting her arms to the back of her head. + +Dear me, Dodo, are you going to have a scheme for them? said Celia, a +little uneasy at this Hamlet-like raving. + +But Sir James came in again, ready to accompany Dorothea to the Grange, +and she finished her expedition well, not swerving in her resolution +until she descended at her own door. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVIII. + +Would it were yesterday and I i the grave, +With her sweet faith above for monument. + + +Rosamond and Will stood motionlessthey did not know how longhe +looking towards the spot where Dorothea had stood, and she looking +towards him with doubt. It seemed an endless time to Rosamond, in whose +inmost soul there was hardly so much annoyance as gratification from +what had just happened. Shallow natures dream of an easy sway over the +emotions of others, trusting implicitly in their own petty magic to +turn the deepest streams, and confident, by pretty gestures and +remarks, of making the thing that is not as though it were. She knew +that Will had received a severe blow, but she had been little used to +imagining other peoples states of mind except as a material cut into +shape by her own wishes; and she believed in her own power to soothe or +subdue. Even Tertius, that most perverse of men, was always subdued in +the long-run: events had been obstinate, but still Rosamond would have +said now, as she did before her marriage, that she never gave up what +she had set her mind on. + +She put out her arm and laid the tips of her fingers on Wills +coat-sleeve. + +Dont touch me! he said, with an utterance like the cut of a lash, +darting from her, and changing from pink to white and back again, as if +his whole frame were tingling with the pain of the sting. He wheeled +round to the other side of the room and stood opposite to her, with the +tips of his fingers in his pockets and his head thrown back, looking +fiercely not at Rosamond but at a point a few inches away from her. + +She was keenly offended, but the signs she made of this were such as +only Lydgate was used to interpret. She became suddenly quiet and +seated herself, untying her hanging bonnet and laying it down with her +shawl. Her little hands which she folded before her were very cold. + +It would have been safer for Will in the first instance to have taken +up his hat and gone away; but he had felt no impulse to do this; on the +contrary, he had a horrible inclination to stay and shatter Rosamond +with his anger. It seemed as impossible to bear the fatality she had +drawn down on him without venting his fury as it would be to a panther +to bear the javelin-wound without springing and biting. And yethow +could he tell a woman that he was ready to curse her? He was fuming +under a repressive law which he was forced to acknowledge: he was +dangerously poised, and Rosamonds voice now brought the decisive +vibration. In flute-like tones of sarcasm she said + +You can easily go after Mrs. Casaubon and explain your preference. + +Go after her! he burst out, with a sharp edge in his voice. Do you +think she would turn to look at me, or value any word I ever uttered to +her again at more than a dirty feather?Explain! How can a man explain +at the expense of a woman? + +You can tell her what you please, said Rosamond with more tremor. + +Do you suppose she would like me better for sacrificing you? She is +not a woman to be flattered because I made myself despicableto believe +that I must be true to her because I was a dastard to you. + +He began to move about with the restlessness of a wild animal that sees +prey but cannot reach it. Presently he burst out again + +I had no hope beforenot muchof anything better to come. But I had +one certaintythat she believed in me. Whatever people had said or done +about me, she believed in me.Thats gone! Shell never again think me +anything but a paltry pretencetoo nice to take heaven except upon +flattering conditions, and yet selling myself for any devils change by +the sly. Shell think of me as an incarnate insult to her, from the +first moment we + +Will stopped as if he had found himself grasping something that must +not be thrown and shattered. He found another vent for his rage by +snatching up Rosamonds words again, as if they were reptiles to be +throttled and flung off. + +Explain! Tell a man to explain how he dropped into hell! Explain my +preference! I never had a _preference_ for her, any more than I have a +preference for breathing. No other woman exists by the side of her. I +would rather touch her hand if it were dead, than I would touch any +other womans living. + +Rosamond, while these poisoned weapons were being hurled at her, was +almost losing the sense of her identity, and seemed to be waking into +some new terrible existence. She had no sense of chill resolute +repulsion, of reticent self-justification such as she had known under +Lydgates most stormy displeasure: all her sensibility was turned into +a bewildering novelty of pain; she felt a new terrified recoil under a +lash never experienced before. What another nature felt in opposition +to her own was being burnt and bitten into her consciousness. When Will +had ceased to speak she had become an image of sickened misery: her +lips were pale, and her eyes had a tearless dismay in them. If it had +been Tertius who stood opposite to her, that look of misery would have +been a pang to him, and he would have sunk by her side to comfort her, +with that strong-armed comfort which she had often held very cheap. + +Let it be forgiven to Will that he had no such movement of pity. He had +felt no bond beforehand to this woman who had spoiled the ideal +treasure of his life, and he held himself blameless. He knew that he +was cruel, but he had no relenting in him yet. + +After he had done speaking, he still moved about, half in absence of +mind, and Rosamond sat perfectly still. At length Will, seeming to +bethink himself, took up his hat, yet stood some moments irresolute. He +had spoken to her in a way that made a phrase of common politeness +difficult to utter; and yet, now that he had come to the point of going +away from her without further speech, he shrank from it as a brutality; +he felt checked and stultified in his anger. He walked towards the +mantel-piece and leaned his arm on it, and waited in silence forhe +hardly knew what. The vindictive fire was still burning in him, and he +could utter no word of retractation; but it was nevertheless in his +mind that having come back to this hearth where he had enjoyed a +caressing friendship he had found calamity seated therehe had had +suddenly revealed to him a trouble that lay outside the home as well as +within it. And what seemed a foreboding was pressing upon him as with +slow pincers:that his life might come to be enslaved by this helpless +woman who had thrown herself upon him in the dreary sadness of her +heart. But he was in gloomy rebellion against the fact that his quick +apprehensiveness foreshadowed to him, and when his eyes fell on +Rosamonds blighted face it seemed to him that he was the more pitiable +of the two; for pain must enter into its glorified life of memory +before it can turn into compassion. + +And so they remained for many minutes, opposite each other, far apart, +in silence; Wills face still possessed by a mute rage, and Rosamonds +by a mute misery. The poor thing had no force to fling out any passion +in return; the terrible collapse of the illusion towards which all her +hope had been strained was a stroke which had too thoroughly shaken +her: her little world was in ruins, and she felt herself tottering in +the midst as a lonely bewildered consciousness. + +Will wished that she would speak and bring some mitigating shadow +across his own cruel speech, which seemed to stand staring at them both +in mockery of any attempt at revived fellowship. But she said nothing, +and at last with a desperate effort over himself, he asked, Shall I +come in and see Lydgate this evening? + +If you like, Rosamond answered, just audibly. + +And then Will went out of the house, Martha never knowing that he had +been in. + +After he was gone, Rosamond tried to get up from her seat, but fell +back fainting. When she came to herself again, she felt too ill to make +the exertion of rising to ring the bell, and she remained helpless +until the girl, surprised at her long absence, thought for the first +time of looking for her in all the down-stairs rooms. Rosamond said +that she had felt suddenly sick and faint, and wanted to be helped +up-stairs. When there she threw herself on the bed with her clothes on, +and lay in apparent torpor, as she had done once before on a memorable +day of grief. + +Lydgate came home earlier than he had expected, about half-past five, +and found her there. The perception that she was ill threw every other +thought into the background. When he felt her pulse, her eyes rested on +him with more persistence than they had done for a long while, as if +she felt some content that he was there. He perceived the difference in +a moment, and seating himself by her put his arm gently under her, and +bending over her said, My poor Rosamond! has something agitated you? +Clinging to him she fell into hysterical sobbings and cries, and for +the next hour he did nothing but soothe and tend her. He imagined that +Dorothea had been to see her, and that all this effect on her nervous +system, which evidently involved some new turning towards himself, was +due to the excitement of the new impressions which that visit had +raised. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIX. + +Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended their talk, they +drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; +and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name +of the slough was Despond.BUNYAN. + + +When Rosamond was quiet, and Lydgate had left her, hoping that she +might soon sleep under the effect of an anodyne, he went into the +drawing-room to fetch a book which he had left there, meaning to spend +the evening in his work-room, and he saw on the table Dorotheas letter +addressed to him. He had not ventured to ask Rosamond if Mrs. Casaubon +had called, but the reading of this letter assured him of the fact, for +Dorothea mentioned that it was to be carried by herself. + +When Will Ladislaw came in a little later Lydgate met him with a +surprise which made it clear that he had not been told of the earlier +visit, and Will could not say, Did not Mrs. Lydgate tell you that I +came this morning? + +Poor Rosamond is ill, Lydgate added immediately on his greeting. + +Not seriously, I hope, said Will. + +Noonly a slight nervous shockthe effect of some agitation. She has +been overwrought lately. The truth is, Ladislaw, I am an unlucky devil. +We have gone through several rounds of purgatory since you left, and I +have lately got on to a worse ledge of it than ever. I suppose you are +only just come downyou look rather batteredyou have not been long +enough in the town to hear anything? + +I travelled all night and got to the White Hart at eight oclock this +morning. I have been shutting myself up and resting, said Will, +feeling himself a sneak, but seeing no alternative to this evasion. + +And then he heard Lydgates account of the troubles which Rosamond had +already depicted to him in her way. She had not mentioned the fact of +Wills name being connected with the public storythis detail not +immediately affecting herand he now heard it for the first time. + +I thought it better to tell you that your name is mixed up with the +disclosures, said Lydgate, who could understand better than most men +how Ladislaw might be stung by the revelation. You will be sure to +hear it as soon as you turn out into the town. I suppose it is true +that Raffles spoke to you. + +Yes, said Will, sardonically. I shall be fortunate if gossip does +not make me the most disreputable person in the whole affair. I should +think the latest version must be, that I plotted with Raffles to murder +Bulstrode, and ran away from Middlemarch for the purpose. + +He was thinking Here is a new ring in the sound of my name to +recommend it in her hearing; howeverwhat does it signify now? + +But he said nothing of Bulstrodes offer to him. Will was very open and +careless about his personal affairs, but it was among the more +exquisite touches in natures modelling of him that he had a delicate +generosity which warned him into reticence here. He shrank from saying +that he had rejected Bulstrodes money, in the moment when he was +learning that it was Lydgates misfortune to have accepted it. + +Lydgate too was reticent in the midst of his confidence. He made no +allusion to Rosamonds feeling under their trouble, and of Dorothea he +only said, Mrs. Casaubon has been the one person to come forward and +say that she had no belief in any of the suspicions against me. +Observing a change in Wills face, he avoided any further mention of +her, feeling himself too ignorant of their relation to each other not +to fear that his words might have some hidden painful bearing on it. +And it occurred to him that Dorothea was the real cause of the present +visit to Middlemarch. + +The two men were pitying each other, but it was only Will who guessed +the extent of his companions trouble. When Lydgate spoke with +desperate resignation of going to settle in London, and said with a +faint smile, We shall have you again, old fellow, Will felt +inexpressibly mournful, and said nothing. Rosamond had that morning +entreated him to urge this step on Lydgate; and it seemed to him as if +he were beholding in a magic panorama a future where he himself was +sliding into that pleasureless yielding to the small solicitations of +circumstance, which is a commoner history of perdition than any single +momentous bargain. + +We are on a perilous margin when we begin to look passively at our +future selves, and see our own figures led with dull consent into +insipid misdoing and shabby achievement. Poor Lydgate was inwardly +groaning on that margin, and Will was arriving at it. It seemed to him +this evening as if the cruelty of his outburst to Rosamond had made an +obligation for him, and he dreaded the obligation: he dreaded Lydgates +unsuspecting good-will: he dreaded his own distaste for his spoiled +life, which would leave him in motiveless levity. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXX. + +Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear +The Godheads most benignant grace; +Nor know we anything so fair +As is the smile upon thy face; +Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, +And fragrance in thy footing treads; +Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; +And the most ancient Heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong. +WORDSWORTH: _Ode to Duty_. + + +When Dorothea had seen Mr. Farebrother in the morning, she had promised +to go and dine at the parsonage on her return from Freshitt. There was +a frequent interchange of visits between her and the Farebrother +family, which enabled her to say that she was not at all lonely at the +Manor, and to resist for the present the severe prescription of a lady +companion. When she reached home and remembered her engagement, she was +glad of it; and finding that she had still an hour before she could +dress for dinner, she walked straight to the schoolhouse and entered +into a conversation with the master and mistress about the new bell, +giving eager attention to their small details and repetitions, and +getting up a dramatic sense that her life was very busy. She paused on +her way back to talk to old Master Bunney who was putting in some +garden-seeds, and discoursed wisely with that rural sage about the +crops that would make the most return on a perch of ground, and the +result of sixty years experience as to soilsnamely, that if your soil +was pretty mellow it would do, but if there came wet, wet, wet to make +it all of a mummy, why then + +Finding that the social spirit had beguiled her into being rather late, +she dressed hastily and went over to the parsonage rather earlier than +was necessary. That house was never dull, Mr. Farebrother, like another +White of Selborne, having continually something new to tell of his +inarticulate guests and _proteges_, whom he was teaching the boys not +to torment; and he had just set up a pair of beautiful goats to be pets +of the village in general, and to walk at large as sacred animals. The +evening went by cheerfully till after tea, Dorothea talking more than +usual and dilating with Mr. Farebrother on the possible histories of +creatures that converse compendiously with their antennae, and for +aught we know may hold reformed parliaments; when suddenly some +inarticulate little sounds were heard which called everybodys +attention. + +Henrietta Noble, said Mrs. Farebrother, seeing her small sister +moving about the furniture-legs distressfully, what is the matter? + +I have lost my tortoise-shell lozenge-box. I fear the kitten has +rolled it away, said the tiny old lady, involuntarily continuing her +beaver-like notes. + +Is it a great treasure, aunt? said Mr. Farebrother, putting up his +glasses and looking at the carpet. + +Mr. Ladislaw gave it me, said Miss Noble. A German boxvery pretty, +but if it falls it always spins away as far as it can. + +Oh, if it is Ladislaws present, said Mr. Farebrother, in a deep tone +of comprehension, getting up and hunting. The box was found at last +under a chiffonier, and Miss Noble grasped it with delight, saying, it +was under a fender the last time. + +That is an affair of the heart with my aunt, said Mr. Farebrother, +smiling at Dorothea, as he reseated himself. + +If Henrietta Noble forms an attachment to any one, Mrs. Casaubon, +said his mother, emphatically,she is like a dogshe would take their +shoes for a pillow and sleep the better. + +Mr. Ladislaws shoes, I would, said Henrietta Noble. + +Dorothea made an attempt at smiling in return. She was surprised and +annoyed to find that her heart was palpitating violently, and that it +was quite useless to try after a recovery of her former animation. +Alarmed at herselffearing some further betrayal of a change so marked +in its occasion, she rose and said in a low voice with undisguised +anxiety, I must go; I have overtired myself. + +Mr. Farebrother, quick in perception, rose and said, It is true; you +must have half-exhausted yourself in talking about Lydgate. That sort +of work tells upon one after the excitement is over. + +He gave her his arm back to the Manor, but Dorothea did not attempt to +speak, even when he said good-night. + +The limit of resistance was reached, and she had sunk back helpless +within the clutch of inescapable anguish. Dismissing Tantripp with a +few faint words, she locked her door, and turning away from it towards +the vacant room she pressed her hands hard on the top of her head, and +moaned out + +Oh, I did love him! + +Then came the hour in which the waves of suffering shook her too +thoroughly to leave any power of thought. She could only cry in loud +whispers, between her sobs, after her lost belief which she had planted +and kept alive from a very little seed since the days in Romeafter her +lost joy of clinging with silent love and faith to one who, misprized +by others, was worthy in her thoughtafter her lost womans pride of +reigning in his memoryafter her sweet dim perspective of hope, that +along some pathway they should meet with unchanged recognition and take +up the backward years as a yesterday. + +In that hour she repeated what the merciful eyes of solitude have +looked on for ages in the spiritual struggles of manshe besought +hardness and coldness and aching weariness to bring her relief from the +mysterious incorporeal might of her anguish: she lay on the bare floor +and let the night grow cold around her; while her grand womans frame +was shaken by sobs as if she had been a despairing child. + +There were two imagestwo living forms that tore her heart in two, as +if it had been the heart of a mother who seems to see her child divided +by the sword, and presses one bleeding half to her breast while her +gaze goes forth in agony towards the half which is carried away by the +lying woman that has never known the mothers pang. + +Here, with the nearness of an answering smile, here within the +vibrating bond of mutual speech, was the bright creature whom she had +trustedwho had come to her like the spirit of morning visiting the dim +vault where she sat as the bride of a worn-out life; and now, with a +full consciousness which had never awakened before, she stretched out +her arms towards him and cried with bitter cries that their nearness +was a parting vision: she discovered her passion to herself in the +unshrinking utterance of despair. + +And there, aloof, yet persistently with her, moving wherever she moved, +was the Will Ladislaw who was a changed belief exhausted of hope, a +detected illusionno, a living man towards whom there could not yet +struggle any wail of regretful pity, from the midst of scorn and +indignation and jealous offended pride. The fire of Dorotheas anger +was not easily spent, and it flamed out in fitful returns of spurning +reproach. Why had he come obtruding his life into hers, hers that might +have been whole enough without him? Why had he brought his cheap regard +and his lip-born words to her who had nothing paltry to give in +exchange? He knew that he was deluding herwished, in the very moment +of farewell, to make her believe that he gave her the whole price of +her heart, and knew that he had spent it half before. Why had he not +stayed among the crowd of whom she asked nothingbut only prayed that +they might be less contemptible? + +But she lost energy at last even for her loud-whispered cries and +moans: she subsided into helpless sobs, and on the cold floor she +sobbed herself to sleep. + +In the chill hours of the morning twilight, when all was dim around +her, she awokenot with any amazed wondering where she was or what had +happened, but with the clearest consciousness that she was looking into +the eyes of sorrow. She rose, and wrapped warm things around her, and +seated herself in a great chair where she had often watched before. She +was vigorous enough to have borne that hard night without feeling ill +in body, beyond some aching and fatigue; but she had waked to a new +condition: she felt as if her soul had been liberated from its terrible +conflict; she was no longer wrestling with her grief, but could sit +down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her +thoughts. For now the thoughts came thickly. It was not in Dorotheas +nature, for longer than the duration of a paroxysm, to sit in the +narrow cell of her calamity, in the besotted misery of a consciousness +that only sees anothers lot as an accident of its own. + +She began now to live through that yesterday morning deliberately +again, forcing herself to dwell on every detail and its possible +meaning. Was she alone in that scene? Was it her event only? She forced +herself to think of it as bound up with another womans lifea woman +towards whom she had set out with a longing to carry some clearness and +comfort into her beclouded youth. In her first outleap of jealous +indignation and disgust, when quitting the hateful room, she had flung +away all the mercy with which she had undertaken that visit. She had +enveloped both Will and Rosamond in her burning scorn, and it seemed to +her as if Rosamond were burned out of her sight forever. But that base +prompting which makes a women more cruel to a rival than to a faithless +lover, could have no strength of recurrence in Dorothea when the +dominant spirit of justice within her had once overcome the tumult and +had once shown her the truer measure of things. All the active thought +with which she had before been representing to herself the trials of +Lydgates lot, and this young marriage union which, like her own, +seemed to have its hidden as well as evident troublesall this vivid +sympathetic experience returned to her now as a power: it asserted +itself as acquired knowledge asserts itself and will not let us see as +we saw in the day of our ignorance. She said to her own irremediable +grief, that it should make her more helpful, instead of driving her +back from effort. + +And what sort of crisis might not this be in three lives whose contact +with hers laid an obligation on her as if they had been suppliants +bearing the sacred branch? The objects of her rescue were not to be +sought out by her fancy: they were chosen for her. She yearned towards +the perfect Right, that it might make a throne within her, and rule her +errant will. What should I dohow should I act now, this very day, if +I could clutch my own pain, and compel it to silence, and think of +those three? + +It had taken long for her to come to that question, and there was light +piercing into the room. She opened her curtains, and looked out towards +the bit of road that lay in view, with fields beyond outside the +entrance-gates. On the road there was a man with a bundle on his back +and a woman carrying her baby; in the field she could see figures +movingperhaps the shepherd with his dog. Far off in the bending sky +was the pearly light; and she felt the largeness of the world and the +manifold wakings of men to labor and endurance. She was a part of that +involuntary, palpitating life, and could neither look out on it from +her luxurious shelter as a mere spectator, nor hide her eyes in selfish +complaining. + +What she would resolve to do that day did not yet seem quite clear, but +something that she could achieve stirred her as with an approaching +murmur which would soon gather distinctness. She took off the clothes +which seemed to have some of the weariness of a hard watching in them, +and began to make her toilet. Presently she rang for Tantripp, who came +in her dressing-gown. + +Why, madam, youve never been in bed this blessed night, burst out +Tantripp, looking first at the bed and then at Dorotheas face, which +in spite of bathing had the pale cheeks and pink eyelids of a mater +dolorosa. Youll kill yourself, you _will_. Anybody might think now +you had a right to give yourself a little comfort. + +Dont be alarmed, Tantripp, said Dorothea, smiling. I have slept; I +am not ill. I shall be glad of a cup of coffee as soon as possible. And +I want you to bring me my new dress; and most likely I shall want my +new bonnet to-day. + +Theyve lain there a month and more ready for you, madam, and most +thankful I shall be to see you with a couple o pounds worth less of +crape, said Tantripp, stooping to light the fire. Theres a reason in +mourning, as Ive always said; and three folds at the bottom of your +skirt and a plain quilling in your bonnetand if ever anybody looked +like an angel, its you in a net quillingis whats consistent for a +second year. At least, thats _my_ thinking, ended Tantripp, looking +anxiously at the fire; and if anybody was to marry me flattering +himself I should wear those hijeous weepers two years for him, hed be +deceived by his own vanity, thats all. + +The fire will do, my good Tan, said Dorothea, speaking as she used to +do in the old Lausanne days, only with a very low voice; get me the +coffee. + +She folded herself in the large chair, and leaned her head against it +in fatigued quiescence, while Tantripp went away wondering at this +strange contrariness in her young mistressthat just the morning when +she had more of a widows face than ever, she should have asked for her +lighter mourning which she had waived before. Tantripp would never have +found the clew to this mystery. Dorothea wished to acknowledge that she +had not the less an active life before her because she had buried a +private joy; and the tradition that fresh garments belonged to all +initiation, haunting her mind, made her grasp after even that slight +outward help towards calm resolve. For the resolve was not easy. + +Nevertheless at eleven oclock she was walking towards Middlemarch, +having made up her mind that she would make as quietly and unnoticeably +as possible her second attempt to see and save Rosamond. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXI. + +Du Erde warst auch diese Nacht bestndig, +Und athmest neu erquickt zu meinen Fssen, +Beginnest schon mit Lust mich zu umgeben, +Du regst und rhrst ein krftiges Beschliessen +_Zum hchsten Dasein immerfort zu streben_. +_Faust:_ 2r Theil. + + +When Dorothea was again at Lydgates door speaking to Martha, he was in +the room close by with the door ajar, preparing to go out. He heard her +voice, and immediately came to her. + +Do you think that Mrs. Lydgate can receive me this morning? she said, +having reflected that it would be better to leave out all allusion to +her previous visit. + +I have no doubt she will, said Lydgate, suppressing his thought about +Dorotheas looks, which were as much changed as Rosamonds, if you +will be kind enough to come in and let me tell her that you are here. +She has not been very well since you were here yesterday, but she is +better this morning, and I think it is very likely that she will be +cheered by seeing you again. + +It was plain that Lydgate, as Dorothea had expected, knew nothing about +the circumstances of her yesterdays visit; nay, he appeared to imagine +that she had carried it out according to her intention. She had +prepared a little note asking Rosamond to see her, which she would have +given to the servant if he had not been in the way, but now she was in +much anxiety as to the result of his announcement. + +After leading her into the drawing-room, he paused to take a letter +from his pocket and put it into her hands, saying, I wrote this last +night, and was going to carry it to Lowick in my ride. When one is +grateful for something too good for common thanks, writing is less +unsatisfactory than speechone does not at least _hear_ how inadequate +the words are. + +Dorotheas face brightened. It is I who have most to thank for, since +you have let me take that place. You _have_ consented? she said, +suddenly doubting. + +Yes, the check is going to Bulstrode to-day. + +He said no more, but went up-stairs to Rosamond, who had but lately +finished dressing herself, and sat languidly wondering what she should +do next, her habitual industry in small things, even in the days of her +sadness, prompting her to begin some kind of occupation, which she +dragged through slowly or paused in from lack of interest. She looked +ill, but had recovered her usual quietude of manner, and Lydgate had +feared to disturb her by any questions. He had told her of Dorotheas +letter containing the check, and afterwards he had said, Ladislaw is +come, Rosy; he sat with me last night; I dare say he will be here again +to-day. I thought he looked rather battered and depressed. And +Rosamond had made no reply. + +Now, when he came up, he said to her very gently, Rosy, dear, Mrs. +Casaubon is come to see you again; you would like to see her, would you +not? That she colored and gave rather a startled movement did not +surprise him after the agitation produced by the interview yesterdaya +beneficent agitation, he thought, since it seemed to have made her turn +to him again. + +Rosamond dared not say no. She dared not with a tone of her voice touch +the facts of yesterday. Why had Mrs. Casaubon come again? The answer +was a blank which Rosamond could only fill up with dread, for Will +Ladislaws lacerating words had made every thought of Dorothea a fresh +smart to her. Nevertheless, in her new humiliating uncertainty she +dared do nothing but comply. She did not say yes, but she rose and let +Lydgate put a light shawl over her shoulders, while he said, I am +going out immediately. Then something crossed her mind which prompted +her to say, Pray tell Martha not to bring any one else into the +drawing-room. And Lydgate assented, thinking that he fully understood +this wish. He led her down to the drawing-room door, and then turned +away, observing to himself that he was rather a blundering husband to +be dependent for his wifes trust in him on the influence of another +woman. + +Rosamond, wrapping her soft shawl around her as she walked towards +Dorothea, was inwardly wrapping her soul in cold reserve. Had Mrs. +Casaubon come to say anything to her about Will? If so, it was a +liberty that Rosamond resented; and she prepared herself to meet every +word with polite impassibility. Will had bruised her pride too sorely +for her to feel any compunction towards him and Dorothea: her own +injury seemed much the greater. Dorothea was not only the preferred +woman, but had also a formidable advantage in being Lydgates +benefactor; and to poor Rosamonds pained confused vision it seemed +that this Mrs. Casaubonthis woman who predominated in all things +concerning hermust have come now with the sense of having the +advantage, and with animosity prompting her to use it. Indeed, not +Rosamond only, but any one else, knowing the outer facts of the case, +and not the simple inspiration on which Dorothea acted, might well have +wondered why she came. + +Looking like the lovely ghost of herself, her graceful slimness wrapped +in her soft white shawl, the rounded infantine mouth and cheek +inevitably suggesting mildness and innocence, Rosamond paused at three +yards distance from her visitor and bowed. But Dorothea, who had taken +off her gloves, from an impulse which she could never resist when she +wanted a sense of freedom, came forward, and with her face full of a +sad yet sweet openness, put out her hand. Rosamond could not avoid +meeting her glance, could not avoid putting her small hand into +Dorotheas, which clasped it with gentle motherliness; and immediately +a doubt of her own prepossessions began to stir within her. Rosamonds +eye was quick for faces; she saw that Mrs. Casaubons face looked pale +and changed since yesterday, yet gentle, and like the firm softness of +her hand. But Dorothea had counted a little too much on her own +strength: the clearness and intensity of her mental action this morning +were the continuance of a nervous exaltation which made her frame as +dangerously responsive as a bit of finest Venetian crystal; and in +looking at Rosamond, she suddenly found her heart swelling, and was +unable to speakall her effort was required to keep back tears. She +succeeded in that, and the emotion only passed over her face like the +spirit of a sob; but it added to Rosamonds impression that Mrs. +Casaubons state of mind must be something quite different from what +she had imagined. + +So they sat down without a word of preface on the two chairs that +happened to be nearest, and happened also to be close together; though +Rosamonds notion when she first bowed was that she should stay a long +way off from Mrs. Casaubon. But she ceased thinking how anything would +turn outmerely wondering what would come. And Dorothea began to speak +quite simply, gathering firmness as she went on. + +I had an errand yesterday which I did not finish; that is why I am +here again so soon. You will not think me too troublesome when I tell +you that I came to talk to you about the injustice that has been shown +towards Mr. Lydgate. It will cheer youwill it not?to know a great +deal about him, that he may not like to speak about himself just +because it is in his own vindication and to his own honor. You will +like to know that your husband has warm friends, who have not left off +believing in his high character? You will let me speak of this without +thinking that I take a liberty? + +The cordial, pleading tones which seemed to flow with generous +heedlessness above all the facts which had filled Rosamonds mind as +grounds of obstruction and hatred between her and this woman, came as +soothingly as a warm stream over her shrinking fears. Of course Mrs. +Casaubon had the facts in her mind, but she was not going to speak of +anything connected with them. That relief was too great for Rosamond to +feel much else at the moment. She answered prettily, in the new ease of +her soul + +I know you have been very good. I shall like to hear anything you will +say to me about Tertius. + +The day before yesterday, said Dorothea, when I had asked him to +come to Lowick to give me his opinion on the affairs of the Hospital, +he told me everything about his conduct and feelings in this sad event +which has made ignorant people cast suspicions on him. The reason he +told me was because I was very bold and asked him. I believed that he +had never acted dishonorably, and I begged him to tell me the history. +He confessed to me that he had never told it before, not even to you, +because he had a great dislike to say, I was not wrong, as if that +were proof, when there are guilty people who will say so. The truth is, +he knew nothing of this man Raffles, or that there were any bad secrets +about him; and he thought that Mr. Bulstrode offered him the money +because he repented, out of kindness, of having refused it before. All +his anxiety about his patient was to treat him rightly, and he was a +little uncomfortable that the case did not end as he had expected; but +he thought then and still thinks that there may have been no wrong in +it on any ones part. And I have told Mr. Farebrother, and Mr. Brooke, +and Sir James Chettam: they all believe in your husband. That will +cheer you, will it not? That will give you courage? + +Dorotheas face had become animated, and as it beamed on Rosamond very +close to her, she felt something like bashful timidity before a +superior, in the presence of this self-forgetful ardor. She said, with +blushing embarrassment, Thank you: you are very kind. + +And he felt that he had been so wrong not to pour out everything about +this to you. But you will forgive him. It was because he feels so much +more about your happiness than anything elsehe feels his life bound +into one with yours, and it hurts him more than anything, that his +misfortunes must hurt you. He could speak to me because I am an +indifferent person. And then I asked him if I might come to see you; +because I felt so much for his trouble and yours. That is why I came +yesterday, and why I am come to-day. Trouble is so hard to bear, is it +not? How can we live and think that any one has troublepiercing +troubleand we could help them, and never try? + +Dorothea, completely swayed by the feeling that she was uttering, +forgot everything but that she was speaking from out the heart of her +own trial to Rosamonds. The emotion had wrought itself more and more +into her utterance, till the tones might have gone to ones very +marrow, like a low cry from some suffering creature in the darkness. +And she had unconsciously laid her hand again on the little hand that +she had pressed before. + +Rosamond, with an overmastering pang, as if a wound within her had been +probed, burst into hysterical crying as she had done the day before +when she clung to her husband. Poor Dorothea was feeling a great wave +of her own sorrow returning over herher thought being drawn to the +possible share that Will Ladislaw might have in Rosamonds mental +tumult. She was beginning to fear that she should not be able to +suppress herself enough to the end of this meeting, and while her hand +was still resting on Rosamonds lap, though the hand underneath it was +withdrawn, she was struggling against her own rising sobs. She tried to +master herself with the thought that this might be a turning-point in +three livesnot in her own; no, there the irrevocable had happened, +butin those three lives which were touching hers with the solemn +neighborhood of danger and distress. The fragile creature who was +crying close to herthere might still be time to rescue her from the +misery of false incompatible bonds; and this moment was unlike any +other: she and Rosamond could never be together again with the same +thrilling consciousness of yesterday within them both. She felt the +relation between them to be peculiar enough to give her a peculiar +influence, though she had no conception that the way in which her own +feelings were involved was fully known to Mrs. Lydgate. + +It was a newer crisis in Rosamonds experience than even Dorothea could +imagine: she was under the first great shock that had shattered her +dream-world in which she had been easily confident of herself and +critical of others; and this strange unexpected manifestation of +feeling in a woman whom she had approached with a shrinking aversion +and dread, as one who must necessarily have a jealous hatred towards +her, made her soul totter all the more with a sense that she had been +walking in an unknown world which had just broken in upon her. + +When Rosamonds convulsed throat was subsiding into calm, and she +withdrew the handkerchief with which she had been hiding her face, her +eyes met Dorotheas as helplessly as if they had been blue flowers. +What was the use of thinking about behavior after this crying? And +Dorothea looked almost as childish, with the neglected trace of a +silent tear. Pride was broken down between these two. + +We were talking about your husband, Dorothea said, with some +timidity. I thought his looks were sadly changed with suffering the +other day. I had not seen him for many weeks before. He said he had +been feeling very lonely in his trial; but I think he would have borne +it all better if he had been able to be quite open with you. + +Tertius is so angry and impatient if I say anything, said Rosamond, +imagining that he had been complaining of her to Dorothea. He ought +not to wonder that I object to speak to him on painful subjects. + +It was himself he blamed for not speaking, said Dorothea. What he +said of you was, that he could not be happy in doing anything which +made you unhappythat his marriage was of course a bond which must +affect his choice about everything; and for that reason he refused my +proposal that he should keep his position at the Hospital, because that +would bind him to stay in Middlemarch, and he would not undertake to do +anything which would be painful to you. He could say that to me, +because he knows that I had much trial in my marriage, from my +husbands illness, which hindered his plans and saddened him; and he +knows that I have felt how hard it is to walk always in fear of hurting +another who is tied to us. + +Dorothea waited a little; she had discerned a faint pleasure stealing +over Rosamonds face. But there was no answer, and she went on, with a +gathering tremor, Marriage is so unlike everything else. There is +something even awful in the nearness it brings. Even if we loved some +one else better thanthan those we were married to, it would be no +usepoor Dorothea, in her palpitating anxiety, could only seize her +language brokenlyI mean, marriage drinks up all our power of giving +or getting any blessedness in that sort of love. I know it may be very +dearbut it murders our marriageand then the marriage stays with us +like a murderand everything else is gone. And then our husbandif he +loved and trusted us, and we have not helped him, but made a curse in +his life + +Her voice had sunk very low: there was a dread upon her of presuming +too far, and of speaking as if she herself were perfection addressing +error. She was too much preoccupied with her own anxiety, to be aware +that Rosamond was trembling too; and filled with the need to express +pitying fellowship rather than rebuke, she put her hands on Rosamonds, +and said with more agitated rapidity,I know, I know that the feeling +may be very dearit has taken hold of us unawaresit is so hard, it may +seem like death to part with itand we are weakI am weak + +The waves of her own sorrow, from out of which she was struggling to +save another, rushed over Dorothea with conquering force. She stopped +in speechless agitation, not crying, but feeling as if she were being +inwardly grappled. Her face had become of a deathlier paleness, her +lips trembled, and she pressed her hands helplessly on the hands that +lay under them. + +Rosamond, taken hold of by an emotion stronger than her ownhurried +along in a new movement which gave all things some new, awful, +undefined aspectcould find no words, but involuntarily she put her +lips to Dorotheas forehead which was very near her, and then for a +minute the two women clasped each other as if they had been in a +shipwreck. + +You are thinking what is not true, said Rosamond, in an eager +half-whisper, while she was still feeling Dorotheas arms round +herurged by a mysterious necessity to free herself from something that +oppressed her as if it were blood guiltiness. + +They moved apart, looking at each other. + +When you came in yesterdayit was not as you thought, said Rosamond +in the same tone. + +There was a movement of surprised attention in Dorothea. She expected a +vindication of Rosamond herself. + +He was telling me how he loved another woman, that I might know he +could never love me, said Rosamond, getting more and more hurried as +she went on. And now I think he hates me becausebecause you mistook +him yesterday. He says it is through me that you will think ill of +himthink that he is a false person. But it shall not be through me. He +has never had any love for meI know he has nothe has always thought +slightly of me. He said yesterday that no other woman existed for him +beside you. The blame of what happened is entirely mine. He said he +could never explain to youbecause of me. He said you could never think +well of him again. But now I have told you, and he cannot reproach me +any more. + +Rosamond had delivered her soul under impulses which she had not known +before. She had begun her confession under the subduing influence of +Dorotheas emotion; and as she went on she had gathered the sense that +she was repelling Wills reproaches, which were still like a +knife-wound within her. + +The revulsion of feeling in Dorothea was too strong to be called joy. +It was a tumult in which the terrible strain of the night and morning +made a resistant pain:she could only perceive that this would be joy +when she had recovered her power of feeling it. Her immediate +consciousness was one of immense sympathy without check; she cared for +Rosamond without struggle now, and responded earnestly to her last +words + +No, he cannot reproach you any more. + +With her usual tendency to over-estimate the good in others, she felt a +great outgoing of her heart towards Rosamond, for the generous effort +which had redeemed her from suffering, not counting that the effort was +a reflex of her own energy. After they had been silent a little, she +said + +You are not sorry that I came this morning? + +No, you have been very good to me, said Rosamond. I did not think +that you would be so good. I was very unhappy. I am not happy now. +Everything is so sad. + +But better days will come. Your husband will be rightly valued. And he +depends on you for comfort. He loves you best. The worst loss would be +to lose thatand you have not lost it, said Dorothea. + +She tried to thrust away the too overpowering thought of her own +relief, lest she should fail to win some sign that Rosamonds affection +was yearning back towards her husband. + +Tertius did not find fault with me, then? said Rosamond, +understanding now that Lydgate might have said anything to Mrs. +Casaubon, and that she certainly was different from other women. +Perhaps there was a faint taste of jealousy in the question. A smile +began to play over Dorotheas face as she said + +No, indeed! How could you imagine it? But here the door opened, and +Lydgate entered. + +I am come back in my quality of doctor, he said. After I went away, +I was haunted by two pale faces: Mrs. Casaubon looked as much in need +of care as you, Rosy. And I thought that I had not done my duty in +leaving you together; so when I had been to Colemans I came home +again. I noticed that you were walking, Mrs. Casaubon, and the sky has +changedI think we may have rain. May I send some one to order your +carriage to come for you? + +Oh, no! I am strong: I need the walk, said Dorothea, rising with +animation in her face. Mrs. Lydgate and I have chatted a great deal, +and it is time for me to go. I have always been accused of being +immoderate and saying too much. + +She put out her hand to Rosamond, and they said an earnest, quiet +good-by without kiss or other show of effusion: there had been between +them too much serious emotion for them to use the signs of it +superficially. + +As Lydgate took her to the door she said nothing of Rosamond, but told +him of Mr. Farebrother and the other friends who had listened with +belief to his story. + +When he came back to Rosamond, she had already thrown herself on the +sofa, in resigned fatigue. + +Well, Rosy, he said, standing over her, and touching her hair, what +do you think of Mrs. Casaubon now you have seen so much of her? + +I think she must be better than any one, said Rosamond, and she is +very beautiful. If you go to talk to her so often, you will be more +discontented with me than ever! + +Lydgate laughed at the so often. But has she made you any less +discontented with me? + +I think she has, said Rosamond, looking up in his face. How heavy +your eyes are, Tertiusand do push your hair back. He lifted up his +large white hand to obey her, and felt thankful for this little mark of +interest in him. Poor Rosamonds vagrant fancy had come back terribly +scourgedmeek enough to nestle under the old despised shelter. And the +shelter was still there: Lydgate had accepted his narrowed lot with sad +resignation. He had chosen this fragile creature, and had taken the +burthen of her life upon his arms. He must walk as he could, carrying +that burthen pitifully. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXII. + +My grief lies onward and my joy behind. +SHAKESPEARE: _Sonnets_. + + +Exiles notoriously feed much on hopes, and are unlikely to stay in +banishment unless they are obliged. When Will Ladislaw exiled himself +from Middlemarch he had placed no stronger obstacle to his return than +his own resolve, which was by no means an iron barrier, but simply a +state of mind liable to melt into a minuet with other states of mind, +and to find itself bowing, smiling, and giving place with polite +facility. As the months went on, it had seemed more and more difficult +to him to say why he should not run down to Middlemarchmerely for the +sake of hearing something about Dorothea; and if on such a flying visit +he should chance by some strange coincidence to meet with her, there +was no reason for him to be ashamed of having taken an innocent journey +which he had beforehand supposed that he should not take. Since he was +hopelessly divided from her, he might surely venture into her +neighborhood; and as to the suspicious friends who kept a dragon watch +over hertheir opinions seemed less and less important with time and +change of air. + +And there had come a reason quite irrespective of Dorothea, which +seemed to make a journey to Middlemarch a sort of philanthropic duty. +Will had given a disinterested attention to an intended settlement on a +new plan in the Far West, and the need for funds in order to carry out +a good design had set him on debating with himself whether it would not +be a laudable use to make of his claim on Bulstrode, to urge the +application of that money which had been offered to himself as a means +of carrying out a scheme likely to be largely beneficial. The question +seemed a very dubious one to Will, and his repugnance to again entering +into any relation with the banker might have made him dismiss it +quickly, if there had not arisen in his imagination the probability +that his judgment might be more safely determined by a visit to +Middlemarch. + +That was the object which Will stated to himself as a reason for coming +down. He had meant to confide in Lydgate, and discuss the money +question with him, and he had meant to amuse himself for the few +evenings of his stay by having a great deal of music and badinage with +fair Rosamond, without neglecting his friends at Lowick Parsonage:if +the Parsonage was close to the Manor, that was no fault of his. He had +neglected the Farebrothers before his departure, from a proud +resistance to the possible accusation of indirectly seeking interviews +with Dorothea; but hunger tames us, and Will had become very hungry for +the vision of a certain form and the sound of a certain voice. Nothing +had done insteadnot the opera, or the converse of zealous politicians, +or the flattering reception (in dim corners) of his new hand in leading +articles. + +Thus he had come down, foreseeing with confidence how almost everything +would be in his familiar little world; fearing, indeed, that there +would be no surprises in his visit. But he had found that humdrum world +in a terribly dynamic condition, in which even badinage and lyrism had +turned explosive; and the first day of this visit had become the most +fatal epoch of his life. The next morning he felt so harassed with the +nightmare of consequenceshe dreaded so much the immediate issues +before himthat seeing while he breakfasted the arrival of the +Riverston coach, he went out hurriedly and took his place on it, that +he might be relieved, at least for a day, from the necessity of doing +or saying anything in Middlemarch. Will Ladislaw was in one of those +tangled crises which are commoner in experience than one might imagine, +from the shallow absoluteness of mens judgments. He had found Lydgate, +for whom he had the sincerest respect, under circumstances which +claimed his thorough and frankly declared sympathy; and the reason why, +in spite of that claim, it would have been better for Will to have +avoided all further intimacy, or even contact, with Lydgate, was +precisely of the kind to make such a course appear impossible. To a +creature of Wills susceptible temperamentwithout any neutral region +of indifference in his nature, ready to turn everything that befell him +into the collisions of a passionate dramathe revelation that Rosamond +had made her happiness in any way dependent on him was a difficulty +which his outburst of rage towards her had immeasurably increased for +him. He hated his own cruelty, and yet he dreaded to show the fulness +of his relenting: he must go to her again; the friendship could not be +put to a sudden end; and her unhappiness was a power which he dreaded. +And all the while there was no more foretaste of enjoyment in the life +before him than if his limbs had been lopped off and he was making his +fresh start on crutches. In the night he had debated whether he should +not get on the coach, not for Riverston, but for London, leaving a note +to Lydgate which would give a makeshift reason for his retreat. But +there were strong cords pulling him back from that abrupt departure: +the blight on his happiness in thinking of Dorothea, the crushing of +that chief hope which had remained in spite of the acknowledged +necessity for renunciation, was too fresh a misery for him to resign +himself to it and go straightway into a distance which was also +despair. + +Thus he did nothing more decided than taking the Riverston coach. He +came back again by it while it was still daylight, having made up his +mind that he must go to Lydgates that evening. The Rubicon, we know, +was a very insignificant stream to look at; its significance lay +entirely in certain invisible conditions. Will felt as if he were +forced to cross his small boundary ditch, and what he saw beyond it was +not empire, but discontented subjection. + +But it is given to us sometimes even in our every-day life to witness +the saving influence of a noble nature, the divine efficacy of rescue +that may lie in a self-subduing act of fellowship. If Dorothea, after +her nights anguish, had not taken that walk to Rosamondwhy, she +perhaps would have been a woman who gained a higher character for +discretion, but it would certainly not have been as well for those +three who were on one hearth in Lydgates house at half-past seven that +evening. + +Rosamond had been prepared for Wills visit, and she received him with +a languid coldness which Lydgate accounted for by her nervous +exhaustion, of which he could not suppose that it had any relation to +Will. And when she sat in silence bending over a bit of work, he +innocently apologized for her in an indirect way by begging her to lean +backward and rest. Will was miserable in the necessity for playing the +part of a friend who was making his first appearance and greeting to +Rosamond, while his thoughts were busy about her feeling since that +scene of yesterday, which seemed still inexorably to enclose them both, +like the painful vision of a double madness. It happened that nothing +called Lydgate out of the room; but when Rosamond poured out the tea, +and Will came near to fetch it, she placed a tiny bit of folded paper +in his saucer. He saw it and secured it quickly, but as he went back to +his inn he had no eagerness to unfold the paper. What Rosamond had +written to him would probably deepen the painful impressions of the +evening. Still, he opened and read it by his bed-candle. There were +only these few words in her neatly flowing hand: + +I have told Mrs. Casaubon. She is not under any mistake about you. I +told her because she came to see me and was very kind. You will have +nothing to reproach me with now. I shall not have made any difference +to you. + +The effect of these words was not quite all gladness. As Will dwelt on +them with excited imagination, he felt his cheeks and ears burning at +the thought of what had occurred between Dorothea and Rosamondat the +uncertainty how far Dorothea might still feel her dignity wounded in +having an explanation of his conduct offered to her. There might still +remain in her mind a changed association with him which made an +irremediable differencea lasting flaw. With active fancy he wrought +himself into a state of doubt little more easy than that of the man who +has escaped from wreck by night and stands on unknown ground in the +darkness. Until that wretched yesterdayexcept the moment of vexation +long ago in the very same room and in the very same presenceall their +vision, all their thought of each other, had been as in a world apart, +where the sunshine fell on tall white lilies, where no evil lurked, and +no other soul entered. But nowwould Dorothea meet him in that world +again? + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIII. + +And now good-morrow to our waking souls +Which watch not one another out of fear; +For love all love of other sights controls, +And makes one little room, an everywhere. +DR. DONNE. + + +On the second morning after Dorotheas visit to Rosamond, she had had +two nights of sound sleep, and had not only lost all traces of fatigue, +but felt as if she had a great deal of superfluous strengththat is to +say, more strength than she could manage to concentrate on any +occupation. The day before, she had taken long walks outside the +grounds, and had paid two visits to the Parsonage; but she never in her +life told any one the reason why she spent her time in that fruitless +manner, and this morning she was rather angry with herself for her +childish restlessness. To-day was to be spent quite differently. What +was there to be done in the village? Oh dear! nothing. Everybody was +well and had flannel; nobodys pig had died; and it was Saturday +morning, when there was a general scrubbing of doors and door-stones, +and when it was useless to go into the school. But there were various +subjects that Dorothea was trying to get clear upon, and she resolved +to throw herself energetically into the gravest of all. She sat down in +the library before her particular little heap of books on political +economy and kindred matters, out of which she was trying to get light +as to the best way of spending money so as not to injure ones +neighbors, orwhat comes to the same thingso as to do them the most +good. Here was a weighty subject which, if she could but lay hold of +it, would certainly keep her mind steady. Unhappily her mind slipped +off it for a whole hour; and at the end she found herself reading +sentences twice over with an intense consciousness of many things, but +not of any one thing contained in the text. This was hopeless. Should +she order the carriage and drive to Tipton? No; for some reason or +other she preferred staying at Lowick. But her vagrant mind must be +reduced to order: there was an art in self-discipline; and she walked +round and round the brown library considering by what sort of manoeuvre +she could arrest her wandering thoughts. Perhaps a mere task was the +best meanssomething to which she must go doggedly. Was there not the +geography of Asia Minor, in which her slackness had often been rebuked +by Mr. Casaubon? She went to the cabinet of maps and unrolled one: this +morning she might make herself finally sure that Paphlagonia was not on +the Levantine coast, and fix her total darkness about the Chalybes +firmly on the shores of the Euxine. A map was a fine thing to study +when you were disposed to think of something else, being made up of +names that would turn into a chime if you went back upon them. Dorothea +set earnestly to work, bending close to her map, and uttering the names +in an audible, subdued tone, which often got into a chime. She looked +amusingly girlish after all her deep experiencenodding her head and +marking the names off on her fingers, with a little pursing of her lip, +and now and then breaking off to put her hands on each side of her face +and say, Oh dear! oh dear! + +There was no reason why this should end any more than a merry-go-round; +but it was at last interrupted by the opening of the door and the +announcement of Miss Noble. + +The little old lady, whose bonnet hardly reached Dorotheas shoulder, +was warmly welcomed, but while her hand was being pressed she made many +of her beaver-like noises, as if she had something difficult to say. + +Do sit down, said Dorothea, rolling a chair forward. Am I wanted for +anything? I shall be so glad if I can do anything. + +I will not stay, said Miss Noble, putting her hand into her small +basket, and holding some article inside it nervously; I have left a +friend in the churchyard. She lapsed into her inarticulate sounds, and +unconsciously drew forth the article which she was fingering. It was +the tortoise-shell lozenge-box, and Dorothea felt the color mounting to +her cheeks. + +Mr. Ladislaw, continued the timid little woman. He fears he has +offended you, and has begged me to ask if you will see him for a few +minutes. + +Dorothea did not answer on the instant: it was crossing her mind that +she could not receive him in this library, where her husbands +prohibition seemed to dwell. She looked towards the window. Could she +go out and meet him in the grounds? The sky was heavy, and the trees +had begun to shiver as at a coming storm. Besides, she shrank from +going out to him. + +Do see him, Mrs. Casaubon, said Miss Noble, pathetically; else I +must go back and say No, and that will hurt him. + +Yes, I will see him, said Dorothea. Pray tell him to come. + +What else was there to be done? There was nothing that she longed for +at that moment except to see Will: the possibility of seeing him had +thrust itself insistently between her and every other object; and yet +she had a throbbing excitement like an alarm upon hera sense that she +was doing something daringly defiant for his sake. + +When the little lady had trotted away on her mission, Dorothea stood in +the middle of the library with her hands falling clasped before her, +making no attempt to compose herself in an attitude of dignified +unconsciousness. What she was least conscious of just then was her own +body: she was thinking of what was likely to be in Wills mind, and of +the hard feelings that others had had about him. How could any duty +bind her to hardness? Resistance to unjust dispraise had mingled with +her feeling for him from the very first, and now in the rebound of her +heart after her anguish the resistance was stronger than ever. If I +love him too much it is because he has been used so ill:there was a +voice within her saying this to some imagined audience in the library, +when the door was opened, and she saw Will before her. + +She did not move, and he came towards her with more doubt and timidity +in his face than she had ever seen before. He was in a state of +uncertainty which made him afraid lest some look or word of his should +condemn him to a new distance from her; and Dorothea was afraid of her +_own_ emotion. She looked as if there were a spell upon her, keeping +her motionless and hindering her from unclasping her hands, while some +intense, grave yearning was imprisoned within her eyes. Seeing that she +did not put out her hand as usual, Will paused a yard from her and said +with embarrassment, I am so grateful to you for seeing me. + +I wanted to see you, said Dorothea, having no other words at command. +It did not occur to her to sit down, and Will did not give a cheerful +interpretation to this queenly way of receiving him; but he went on to +say what he had made up his mind to say. + +I fear you think me foolish and perhaps wrong for coming back so soon. +I have been punished for my impatience. You knowevery one knows nowa +painful story about my parentage. I knew of it before I went away, and +I always meant to tell you of it ifif we ever met again. + +There was a slight movement in Dorothea, and she unclasped her hands, +but immediately folded them over each other. + +But the affair is matter of gossip now, Will continued. I wished you +to know that something connected with itsomething which happened +before I went away, helped to bring me down here again. At least I +thought it excused my coming. It was the idea of getting Bulstrode to +apply some money to a public purposesome money which he had thought of +giving me. Perhaps it is rather to Bulstrodes credit that he privately +offered me compensation for an old injury: he offered to give me a good +income to make amends; but I suppose you know the disagreeable story? + +Will looked doubtfully at Dorothea, but his manner was gathering some +of the defiant courage with which he always thought of this fact in his +destiny. He added, You know that it must be altogether painful to me. + +YesyesI know, said Dorothea, hastily. + +I did not choose to accept an income from such a source. I was sure +that you would not think well of me if I did so, said Will. Why should +he mind saying anything of that sort to her now? She knew that he had +avowed his love for her. I felt thathe broke off, nevertheless. + +You acted as I should have expected you to act, said Dorothea, her +face brightening and her head becoming a little more erect on its +beautiful stem. + +I did not believe that you would let any circumstance of my birth +create a prejudice in you against me, though it was sure to do so in +others, said Will, shaking his head backward in his old way, and +looking with a grave appeal into her eyes. + +If it were a new hardship it would be a new reason for me to cling to +you, said Dorothea, fervidly. Nothing could have changed me but her +heart was swelling, and it was difficult to go on; she made a great +effort over herself to say in a low tremulous voice, but thinking that +you were differentnot so good as I had believed you to be. + +You are sure to believe me better than I am in everything but one, +said Will, giving way to his own feeling in the evidence of hers. I +mean, in my truth to you. When I thought you doubted of that, I didnt +care about anything that was left. I thought it was all over with me, +and there was nothing to try foronly things to endure. + +I dont doubt you any longer, said Dorothea, putting out her hand; a +vague fear for him impelling her unutterable affection. + +He took her hand and raised it to his lips with something like a sob. +But he stood with his hat and gloves in the other hand, and might have +done for the portrait of a Royalist. Still it was difficult to loose +the hand, and Dorothea, withdrawing it in a confusion that distressed +her, looked and moved away. + +See how dark the clouds have become, and how the trees are tossed, +she said, walking towards the window, yet speaking and moving with only +a dim sense of what she was doing. + +Will followed her at a little distance, and leaned against the tall +back of a leather chair, on which he ventured now to lay his hat and +gloves, and free himself from the intolerable durance of formality to +which he had been for the first time condemned in Dorotheas presence. +It must be confessed that he felt very happy at that moment leaning on +the chair. He was not much afraid of anything that she might feel now. + +They stood silent, not looking at each other, but looking at the +evergreens which were being tossed, and were showing the pale underside +of their leaves against the blackening sky. Will never enjoyed the +prospect of a storm so much: it delivered him from the necessity of +going away. Leaves and little branches were hurled about, and the +thunder was getting nearer. The light was more and more sombre, but +there came a flash of lightning which made them start and look at each +other, and then smile. Dorothea began to say what she had been thinking +of. + +That was a wrong thing for you to say, that you would have had nothing +to try for. If we had lost our own chief good, other peoples good +would remain, and that is worth trying for. Some can be happy. I seemed +to see that more clearly than ever, when I was the most wretched. I can +hardly think how I could have borne the trouble, if that feeling had +not come to me to make strength. + +You have never felt the sort of misery I felt, said Will; the misery +of knowing that you must despise me. + +But I have felt worseit was worse to think ill Dorothea had begun +impetuously, but broke off. + +Will colored. He had the sense that whatever she said was uttered in +the vision of a fatality that kept them apart. He was silent a moment, +and then said passionately + +We may at least have the comfort of speaking to each other without +disguise. Since I must go awaysince we must always be dividedyou may +think of me as one on the brink of the grave. + +While he was speaking there came a vivid flash of lightning which lit +each of them up for the otherand the light seemed to be the terror of +a hopeless love. Dorothea darted instantaneously from the window; Will +followed her, seizing her hand with a spasmodic movement; and so they +stood, with their hands clasped, like two children, looking out on the +storm, while the thunder gave a tremendous crack and roll above them, +and the rain began to pour down. Then they turned their faces towards +each other, with the memory of his last words in them, and they did not +loose each others hands. + +There is no hope for me, said Will. Even if you loved me as well as +I love youeven if I were everything to youI shall most likely always +be very poor: on a sober calculation, one can count on nothing but a +creeping lot. It is impossible for us ever to belong to each other. It +is perhaps base of me to have asked for a word from you. I meant to go +away into silence, but I have not been able to do what I meant. + +Dont be sorry, said Dorothea, in her clear tender tones. I would +rather share all the trouble of our parting. + +Her lips trembled, and so did his. It was never known which lips were +the first to move towards the other lips; but they kissed tremblingly, +and then they moved apart. + +The rain was dashing against the window-panes as if an angry spirit +were within it, and behind it was the great swoop of the wind; it was +one of those moments in which both the busy and the idle pause with a +certain awe. + +Dorothea sat down on the seat nearest to her, a long low ottoman in the +middle of the room, and with her hands folded over each other on her +lap, looked at the drear outer world. Will stood still an instant +looking at her, then seated himself beside her, and laid his hand on +hers, which turned itself upward to be clasped. They sat in that way +without looking at each other, until the rain abated and began to fall +in stillness. Each had been full of thoughts which neither of them +could begin to utter. + +But when the rain was quiet, Dorothea turned to look at Will. With +passionate exclamation, as if some torture screw were threatening him, +he started up and said, It is impossible! + +He went and leaned on the back of the chair again, and seemed to be +battling with his own anger, while she looked towards him sadly. + +It is as fatal as a murder or any other horror that divides people, +he burst out again; it is more intolerableto have our life maimed by +petty accidents. + +Nodont say thatyour life need not be maimed, said Dorothea, +gently. + +Yes, it must, said Will, angrily. It is cruel of you to speak in +that wayas if there were any comfort. You may see beyond the misery of +it, but I dont. It is unkindit is throwing back my love for you as if +it were a trifle, to speak in that way in the face of the fact. We can +never be married. + +Some timewe might, said Dorothea, in a trembling voice. + +When? said Will, bitterly. What is the use of counting on any +success of mine? It is a mere toss up whether I shall ever do more than +keep myself decently, unless I choose to sell myself as a mere pen and +a mouthpiece. I can see that clearly enough. I could not offer myself +to any woman, even if she had no luxuries to renounce. + +There was silence. Dorotheas heart was full of something that she +wanted to say, and yet the words were too difficult. She was wholly +possessed by them: at that moment debate was mute within her. And it +was very hard that she could not say what she wanted to say. Will was +looking out of the window angrily. If he would have looked at her and +not gone away from her side, she thought everything would have been +easier. At last he turned, still resting against the chair, and +stretching his hand automatically towards his hat, said with a sort of +exasperation, Good-by. + +Oh, I cannot bear itmy heart will break, said Dorothea, starting +from her seat, the flood of her young passion bearing down all the +obstructions which had kept her silentthe great tears rising and +falling in an instant: I dont mind about povertyI hate my wealth. + +In an instant Will was close to her and had his arms round her, but she +drew her head back and held his away gently that she might go on +speaking, her large tear-filled eyes looking at his very simply, while +she said in a sobbing childlike way, We could live quite well on my +own fortuneit is too muchseven hundred a-yearI want so littleno new +clothesand I will learn what everything costs. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIV. + +Though it be songe of old and yonge, + That I sholde be to blame, +Theyrs be the charge, that spoke so large + In hurtynge of my name. +_The Not-Browne Mayde_. + + +It was just after the Lords had thrown out the Reform Bill: that +explains how Mr. Cadwallader came to be walking on the slope of the +lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, holding the Times +in his hands behind him, while he talked with a trout-fishers +dispassionateness about the prospects of the country to Sir James +Chettam. Mrs. Cadwallader, the Dowager Lady Chettam, and Celia were +sometimes seated on garden-chairs, sometimes walking to meet little +Arthur, who was being drawn in his chariot, and, as became the +infantine Bouddha, was sheltered by his sacred umbrella with handsome +silken fringe. + +The ladies also talked politics, though more fitfully. Mrs. Cadwallader +was strong on the intended creation of peers: she had it for certain +from her cousin that Truberry had gone over to the other side entirely +at the instigation of his wife, who had scented peerages in the air +from the very first introduction of the Reform question, and would sign +her soul away to take precedence of her younger sister, who had married +a baronet. Lady Chettam thought that such conduct was very +reprehensible, and remembered that Mrs. Truberrys mother was a Miss +Walsingham of Melspring. Celia confessed it was nicer to be Lady than +Mrs., and that Dodo never minded about precedence if she could have +her own way. Mrs. Cadwallader held that it was a poor satisfaction to +take precedence when everybody about you knew that you had not a drop +of good blood in your veins; and Celia again, stopping to look at +Arthur, said, It would be very nice, though, if he were a Viscountand +his lordships little tooth coming through! He might have been, if +James had been an Earl. + +My dear Celia, said the Dowager, Jamess title is worth far more +than any new earldom. I never wished his father to be anything else +than Sir James. + +Oh, I only meant about Arthurs little tooth, said Celia, +comfortably. But see, here is my uncle coming. + +She tripped off to meet her uncle, while Sir James and Mr. Cadwallader +came forward to make one group with the ladies. Celia had slipped her +arm through her uncles, and he patted her hand with a rather +melancholy Well, my dear! As they approached, it was evident that Mr. +Brooke was looking dejected, but this was fully accounted for by the +state of politics; and as he was shaking hands all round without more +greeting than a Well, youre all here, you know, the Rector said, +laughingly + +Dont take the throwing out of the Bill so much to heart, Brooke; +youve got all the riff-raff of the country on your side. + +The Bill, eh? ah! said Mr. Brooke, with a mild distractedness of +manner. Thrown out, you know, eh? The Lords are going too far, though. +Theyll have to pull up. Sad news, you know. I mean, here at homesad +news. But you must not blame me, Chettam. + +What is the matter? said Sir James. Not another gamekeeper shot, I +hope? Its what I should expect, when a fellow like Trapping Bass is +let off so easily. + +Gamekeeper? No. Let us go in; I can tell you all in the house, you +know, said Mr. Brooke, nodding at the Cadwalladers, to show that he +included them in his confidence. As to poachers like Trapping Bass, +you know, Chettam, he continued, as they were entering, when you are +a magistrate, youll not find it so easy to commit. Severity is all +very well, but its a great deal easier when youve got somebody to do +it for you. You have a soft place in your heart yourself, you +knowyoure not a Draco, a Jeffreys, that sort of thing. + +Mr. Brooke was evidently in a state of nervous perturbation. When he +had something painful to tell, it was usually his way to introduce it +among a number of disjointed particulars, as if it were a medicine that +would get a milder flavor by mixing. He continued his chat with Sir +James about the poachers until they were all seated, and Mrs. +Cadwallader, impatient of this drivelling, said + +Im dying to know the sad news. The gamekeeper is not shot: that is +settled. What is it, then? + +Well, its a very trying thing, you know, said Mr. Brooke. Im glad +you and the Rector are here; its a family matterbut you will help us +all to bear it, Cadwallader. Ive got to break it to you, my dear. +Here Mr. Brooke looked at CeliaYouve no notion what it is, you know. +And, Chettam, it will annoy you uncommonlybut, you see, you have not +been able to hinder it, any more than I have. Theres something +singular in things: they come round, you know. + +It must be about Dodo, said Celia, who had been used to think of her +sister as the dangerous part of the family machinery. She had seated +herself on a low stool against her husbands knee. + +For Gods sake let us hear what it is! said Sir James. + +Well, you know, Chettam, I couldnt help Casaubons will: it was a +sort of will to make things worse. + +Exactly, said Sir James, hastily. But _what_ is worse? + +Dorothea is going to be married again, you know, said Mr. Brooke, +nodding towards Celia, who immediately looked up at her husband with a +frightened glance, and put her hand on his knee. Sir James was almost +white with anger, but he did not speak. + +Merciful heaven! said Mrs. Cadwallader. Not to _young_ Ladislaw? + +Mr. Brooke nodded, saying, Yes; to Ladislaw, and then fell into a +prudential silence. + +You see, Humphrey! said Mrs. Cadwallader, waving her arm towards her +husband. Another time you will admit that I have some foresight; or +rather you will contradict me and be just as blind as ever. _You_ +supposed that the young gentleman was gone out of the country. + +So he might be, and yet come back, said the Rector, quietly. + +When did you learn this? said Sir James, not liking to hear any one +else speak, though finding it difficult to speak himself. + +Yesterday, said Mr. Brooke, meekly. I went to Lowick. Dorothea sent +for me, you know. It had come about quite suddenlyneither of them had +any idea two days agonot any idea, you know. Theres something +singular in things. But Dorothea is quite determinedit is no use +opposing. I put it strongly to her. I did my duty, Chettam. But she can +act as she likes, you know. + +It would have been better if I had called him out and shot him a year +ago, said Sir James, not from bloody-mindedness, but because he needed +something strong to say. + +Really, James, that would have been very disagreeable, said Celia. + +Be reasonable, Chettam. Look at the affair more quietly, said Mr. +Cadwallader, sorry to see his good-natured friend so overmastered by +anger. + +That is not so very easy for a man of any dignitywith any sense of +rightwhen the affair happens to be in his own family, said Sir James, +still in his white indignation. It is perfectly scandalous. If +Ladislaw had had a spark of honor he would have gone out of the country +at once, and never shown his face in it again. However, I am not +surprised. The day after Casaubons funeral I said what ought to be +done. But I was not listened to. + +You wanted what was impossible, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke. +You wanted him shipped off. I told you Ladislaw was not to be done as +we liked with: he had his ideas. He was a remarkable fellowI always +said he was a remarkable fellow. + +Yes, said Sir James, unable to repress a retort, it is rather a pity +you formed that high opinion of him. We are indebted to that for his +being lodged in this neighborhood. We are indebted to that for seeing a +woman like Dorothea degrading herself by marrying him. Sir James made +little stoppages between his clauses, the words not coming easily. A +man so marked out by her husbands will, that delicacy ought to have +forbidden her from seeing him againwho takes her out of her proper +rankinto povertyhas the meanness to accept such a sacrificehas +always had an objectionable positiona bad originand, _I believe_, is +a man of little principle and light character. That is my opinion. Sir +James ended emphatically, turning aside and crossing his leg. + +I pointed everything out to her, said Mr. Brooke, apologeticallyI +mean the poverty, and abandoning her position. I said, My dear, you +dont know what it is to live on seven hundred a-year, and have no +carriage, and that kind of thing, and go amongst people who dont know +who you are. I put it strongly to her. But I advise you to talk to +Dorothea herself. The fact is, she has a dislike to Casaubons +property. You will hear what she says, you know. + +Noexcuse meI shall not, said Sir James, with more coolness. I +cannot bear to see her again; it is too painful. It hurts me too much +that a woman like Dorothea should have done what is wrong. + +Be just, Chettam, said the easy, large-lipped Rector, who objected to +all this unnecessary discomfort. Mrs. Casaubon may be acting +imprudently: she is giving up a fortune for the sake of a man, and we +men have so poor an opinion of each other that we can hardly call a +woman wise who does that. But I think you should not condemn it as a +wrong action, in the strict sense of the word. + +Yes, I do, answered Sir James. I think that Dorothea commits a wrong +action in marrying Ladislaw. + +My dear fellow, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong because it +is unpleasant to us, said the Rector, quietly. Like many men who take +life easily, he had the knack of saying a home truth occasionally to +those who felt themselves virtuously out of temper. Sir James took out +his handkerchief and began to bite the corner. + +It is very dreadful of Dodo, though, said Celia, wishing to justify +her husband. She said she _never would_ marry againnot anybody at +all. + +I heard her say the same thing myself, said Lady Chettam, +majestically, as if this were royal evidence. + +Oh, there is usually a silent exception in such cases, said Mrs. +Cadwallader. The only wonder to me is, that any of you are surprised. +You did nothing to hinder it. If you would have had Lord Triton down +here to woo her with his philanthropy, he might have carried her off +before the year was over. There was no safety in anything else. Mr. +Casaubon had prepared all this as beautifully as possible. He made +himself disagreeableor it pleased God to make him soand then he dared +her to contradict him. Its the way to make any trumpery tempting, to +ticket it at a high price in that way. + +I dont know what you mean by wrong, Cadwallader, said Sir James, +still feeling a little stung, and turning round in his chair towards +the Rector. Hes not a man we can take into the family. At least, I +must speak for myself, he continued, carefully keeping his eyes off +Mr. Brooke. I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to +care about the propriety of the thing. + +Well, you know, Chettam, said Mr. Brooke, good-humoredly, nursing his +leg, I cant turn my back on Dorothea. I must be a father to her up to +a certain point. I said, My dear, I wont refuse to give you away. I +had spoken strongly before. But I can cut off the entail, you know. It +will cost money and be troublesome; but I can do it, you know. + +Mr. Brooke nodded at Sir James, and felt that he was both showing his +own force of resolution and propitiating what was just in the Baronets +vexation. He had hit on a more ingenious mode of parrying than he was +aware of. He had touched a motive of which Sir James was ashamed. The +mass of his feeling about Dorotheas marriage to Ladislaw was due +partly to excusable prejudice, or even justifiable opinion, partly to a +jealous repugnance hardly less in Ladislaws case than in Casaubons. +He was convinced that the marriage was a fatal one for Dorothea. But +amid that mass ran a vein of which he was too good and honorable a man +to like the avowal even to himself: it was undeniable that the union of +the two estatesTipton and Freshittlying charmingly within a +ring-fence, was a prospect that flattered him for his son and heir. +Hence when Mr. Brooke noddingly appealed to that motive, Sir James felt +a sudden embarrassment; there was a stoppage in his throat; he even +blushed. He had found more words than usual in the first jet of his +anger, but Mr. Brookes propitiation was more clogging to his tongue +than Mr. Cadwalladers caustic hint. + +But Celia was glad to have room for speech after her uncles suggestion +of the marriage ceremony, and she said, though with as little eagerness +of manner as if the question had turned on an invitation to dinner, Do +you mean that Dodo is going to be married directly, uncle? + +In three weeks, you know, said Mr. Brooke, helplessly. I can do +nothing to hinder it, Cadwallader, he added, turning for a little +countenance toward the Rector, who said + +_I_ should not make any fuss about it. If she likes to be poor, that +is her affair. Nobody would have said anything if she had married the +young fellow because he was rich. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorer +than they will be. Here is Elinor, continued the provoking husband; +she vexed her friends by me: I had hardly a thousand a-yearI was a +loutnobody could see anything in memy shoes were not the right +cutall the men wondered how a woman could like me. Upon my word, I +must take Ladislaws part until I hear more harm of him. + +Humphrey, that is all sophistry, and you know it, said his wife. +Everything is all onethat is the beginning and end with you. As if +you had not been a Cadwallader! Does any one suppose that I would have +taken such a monster as you by any other name? + +And a clergyman too, observed Lady Chettam with approbation. Elinor +cannot be said to have descended below her rank. It is difficult to say +what Mr. Ladislaw is, eh, James? + +Sir James gave a small grunt, which was less respectful than his usual +mode of answering his mother. Celia looked up at him like a thoughtful +kitten. + +It must be admitted that his blood is a frightful mixture! said Mrs. +Cadwallader. The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and then a +rebellious Polish fiddler or dancing-master, was it?and then an old +clo + +Nonsense, Elinor, said the Rector, rising. It is time for us to go. + +After all, he is a pretty sprig, said Mrs. Cadwallader, rising too, +and wishing to make amends. He is like the fine old Crichley portraits +before the idiots came in. + +Ill go with you, said Mr. Brooke, starting up with alacrity. You +must all come and dine with me to-morrow, you knoweh, Celia, my dear? + +You will, Jameswont you? said Celia, taking her husbands hand. + +Oh, of course, if you like, said Sir James, pulling down his +waistcoat, but unable yet to adjust his face good-humoredly. That is +to say, if it is not to meet anybody else. + +No, no, no, said Mr. Brooke, understanding the condition. Dorothea +would not come, you know, unless you had been to see her. + +When Sir James and Celia were alone, she said, Do you mind about my +having the carriage to go to Lowick, James? + +What, now, directly? he answered, with some surprise. + +Yes, it is very important, said Celia. + +Remember, Celia, I cannot see her, said Sir James. + +Not if she gave up marrying? + +What is the use of saying that?however, Im going to the stables. +Ill tell Briggs to bring the carriage round. + +Celia thought it was of great use, if not to say that, at least to take +a journey to Lowick in order to influence Dorotheas mind. All through +their girlhood she had felt that she could act on her sister by a word +judiciously placedby opening a little window for the daylight of her +own understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by which +Dodo habitually saw. And Celia the matron naturally felt more able to +advise her childless sister. How could any one understand Dodo so well +as Celia did or love her so tenderly? + +Dorothea, busy in her boudoir, felt a glow of pleasure at the sight of +her sister so soon after the revelation of her intended marriage. She +had prefigured to herself, even with exaggeration, the disgust of her +friends, and she had even feared that Celia might be kept aloof from +her. + +O Kitty, I am delighted to see you! said Dorothea, putting her hands +on Celias shoulders, and beaming on her. I almost thought you would +not come to me. + +I have not brought Arthur, because I was in a hurry, said Celia, and +they sat down on two small chairs opposite each other, with their knees +touching. + +You know, Dodo, it is very bad, said Celia, in her placid guttural, +looking as prettily free from humors as possible. You have +disappointed us all so. And I cant think that it ever _will_ beyou +never can go and live in that way. And then there are all your plans! +You never can have thought of that. James would have taken any trouble +for you, and you might have gone on all your life doing what you +liked. + +On the contrary, dear, said Dorothea, I never could do anything that +I liked. I have never carried out any plan yet. + +Because you always wanted things that wouldnt do. But other plans +would have come. And how _can_ you marry Mr. Ladislaw, that we none of +us ever thought you _could_ marry? It shocks James so dreadfully. And +then it is all so different from what you have always been. You would +have Mr. Casaubon because he had such a great soul, and was so old and +dismal and learned; and now, to think of marrying Mr. Ladislaw, who has +got no estate or anything. I suppose it is because you must be making +yourself uncomfortable in some way or other. + +Dorothea laughed. + +Well, it is very serious, Dodo, said Celia, becoming more impressive. +How will you live? and you will go away among queer people. And I +shall never see youand you wont mind about little Arthurand I +thought you always would + +Celias rare tears had got into her eyes, and the corners of her mouth +were agitated. + +Dear Celia, said Dorothea, with tender gravity, if you dont ever +see me, it will not be my fault. + +Yes, it will, said Celia, with the same touching distortion of her +small features. How can I come to you or have you with me when James +cant bear it?that is because he thinks it is not righthe thinks you +are so wrong, Dodo. But you always were wrong: only I cant help loving +you. And nobody can think where you will live: where can you go? + +I am going to London, said Dorothea. + +How can you always live in a street? And you will be so poor. I could +give you half my things, only how can I, when I never see you? + +Bless you, Kitty, said Dorothea, with gentle warmth. Take comfort: +perhaps James will forgive me some time. + +But it would be much better if you would not be married, said Celia, +drying her eyes, and returning to her argument; then there would be +nothing uncomfortable. And you would not do what nobody thought you +could do. James always said you ought to be a queen; but this is not at +all being like a queen. You know what mistakes you have always been +making, Dodo, and this is another. Nobody thinks Mr. Ladislaw a proper +husband for you. And you _said_ you would never be married again. + +It is quite true that I might be a wiser person, Celia, said +Dorothea, and that I might have done something better, if I had been +better. But this is what I am going to do. I have promised to marry Mr. +Ladislaw; and I am going to marry him. + +The tone in which Dorothea said this was a note that Celia had long +learned to recognize. She was silent a few moments, and then said, as +if she had dismissed all contest, Is he very fond of you, Dodo? + +I hope so. I am very fond of him. + +That is nice, said Celia, comfortably. Only I would rather you had +such a sort of husband as James is, with a place very near, that I +could drive to. + +Dorothea smiled, and Celia looked rather meditative. Presently she +said, I cannot think how it all came about. Celia thought it would be +pleasant to hear the story. + +I dare say not, said Dorothea, pinching her sisters chin. If you +knew how it came about, it would not seem wonderful to you. + +Cant you tell me? said Celia, settling her arms cozily. + +No, dear, you would have to feel with me, else you would never know. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXV. + +Then went the jury out whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. +Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. +Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, Mr. Implacable, who +every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and +afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the +judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the foreman, said, I +see clearly that this man is a heretic. Then said Mr. No-good, Away +with such a fellow from the earth! Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the +very look of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. +Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose; for he would be always condemning my way. +Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind. +My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. +Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch +him out of the way said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might +I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to him; +therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death._Pilgrims +Progress_. + + +When immortal Bunyan makes his picture of the persecuting passions +bringing in their verdict of guilty, who pities Faithful? That is a +rare and blessed lot which some greatest men have not attained, to know +ourselves guiltless before a condemning crowdto be sure that what we +are denounced for is solely the good in us. The pitiable lot is that of +the man who could not call himself a martyr even though he were to +persuade himself that the men who stoned him were but ugly passions +incarnatewho knows that he is stoned, not for professing the Right, +but for not being the man he professed to be. + +This was the consciousness that Bulstrode was withering under while he +made his preparations for departing from Middlemarch, and going to end +his stricken life in that sad refuge, the indifference of new faces. +The duteous merciful constancy of his wife had delivered him from one +dread, but it could not hinder her presence from being still a tribunal +before which he shrank from confession and desired advocacy. His +equivocations with himself about the death of Raffles had sustained the +conception of an Omniscience whom he prayed to, yet he had a terror +upon him which would not let him expose them to judgment by a full +confession to his wife: the acts which he had washed and diluted with +inward argument and motive, and for which it seemed comparatively easy +to win invisible pardonwhat name would she call them by? That she +should ever silently call his acts Murder was what he could not bear. +He felt shrouded by her doubt: he got strength to face her from the +sense that she could not yet feel warranted in pronouncing that worst +condemnation on him. Some time, perhapswhen he was dyinghe would tell +her all: in the deep shadow of that time, when she held his hand in the +gathering darkness, she might listen without recoiling from his touch. +Perhaps: but concealment had been the habit of his life, and the +impulse to confession had no power against the dread of a deeper +humiliation. + +He was full of timid care for his wife, not only because he deprecated +any harshness of judgment from her, but because he felt a deep distress +at the sight of her suffering. She had sent her daughters away to board +at a school on the coast, that this crisis might be hidden from them as +far as possible. Set free by their absence from the intolerable +necessity of accounting for her grief or of beholding their frightened +wonder, she could live unconstrainedly with the sorrow that was every +day streaking her hair with whiteness and making her eyelids languid. + +Tell me anything that you would like to have me do, Harriet, +Bulstrode had said to her; I mean with regard to arrangements of +property. It is my intention not to sell the land I possess in this +neighborhood, but to leave it to you as a safe provision. If you have +any wish on such subjects, do not conceal it from me. + +A few days afterwards, when she had returned from a visit to her +brothers, she began to speak to her husband on a subject which had for +some time been in her mind. + +I _should_ like to do something for my brothers family, Nicholas; and +I think we are bound to make some amends to Rosamond and her husband. +Walter says Mr. Lydgate must leave the town, and his practice is almost +good for nothing, and they have very little left to settle anywhere +with. I would rather do without something for ourselves, to make some +amends to my poor brothers family. + +Mrs. Bulstrode did not wish to go nearer to the facts than in the +phrase make some amends; knowing that her husband must understand +her. He had a particular reason, which she was not aware of, for +wincing under her suggestion. He hesitated before he said + +It is not possible to carry out your wish in the way you propose, my +dear. Mr. Lydgate has virtually rejected any further service from me. +He has returned the thousand pounds which I lent him. Mrs. Casaubon +advanced him the sum for that purpose. Here is his letter. + +The letter seemed to cut Mrs. Bulstrode severely. The mention of Mrs. +Casaubons loan seemed a reflection of that public feeling which held +it a matter of course that every one would avoid a connection with her +husband. She was silent for some time; and the tears fell one after the +other, her chin trembling as she wiped them away. Bulstrode, sitting +opposite to her, ached at the sight of that grief-worn face, which two +months before had been bright and blooming. It had aged to keep sad +company with his own withered features. Urged into some effort at +comforting her, he said + +There is another means, Harriet, by which I might do a service to your +brothers family, if you like to act in it. And it would, I think, be +beneficial to you: it would be an advantageous way of managing the land +which I mean to be yours. + +She looked attentive. + +Garth once thought of undertaking the management of Stone Court in +order to place your nephew Fred there. The stock was to remain as it +is, and they were to pay a certain share of the profits instead of an +ordinary rent. That would be a desirable beginning for the young man, +in conjunction with his employment under Garth. Would it be a +satisfaction to you? + +Yes, it would, said Mrs. Bulstrode, with some return of energy. Poor +Walter is so cast down; I would try anything in my power to do him some +good before I go away. We have always been brother and sister. + +You must make the proposal to Garth yourself, Harriet, said Mr. +Bulstrode, not liking what he had to say, but desiring the end he had +in view, for other reasons besides the consolation of his wife. You +must state to him that the land is virtually yours, and that he need +have no transactions with me. Communications can be made through +Standish. I mention this, because Garth gave up being my agent. I can +put into your hands a paper which he himself drew up, stating +conditions; and you can propose his renewed acceptance of them. I think +it is not unlikely that he will accept when you propose the thing for +the sake of your nephew. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVI. + +Le cur se sature damour comme dun sel divin qui le conserve; de l +lincorruptible adhrence de ceux qui se sont aims ds laube de la +vie, et la fracheur des vielles amours prolonges. Il existe un +embaumement damour. Cest de Daphnis et Chlo que sont faits Philmon +et Baucis. Cette vieillesse-l, ressemblance du soir avec +laurore.VICTOR HUGO: _Lhomme qui rit_. + + +Mrs. Garth, hearing Caleb enter the passage about tea-time, opened the +parlor-door and said, There you are, Caleb. Have you had your dinner? +(Mr. Garths meals were much subordinated to business.) + +Oh yes, a good dinnercold mutton and I dont know what. Where is +Mary? + +In the garden with Letty, I think. + +Fred is not come yet? + +No. Are you going out again without taking tea, Caleb? said Mrs. +Garth, seeing that her absent-minded husband was putting on again the +hat which he had just taken off. + +No, no; Im only going to Mary a minute. + +Mary was in a grassy corner of the garden, where there was a swing +loftily hung between two pear-trees. She had a pink kerchief tied over +her head, making a little poke to shade her eyes from the level +sunbeams, while she was giving a glorious swing to Letty, who laughed +and screamed wildly. + +Seeing her father, Mary left the swing and went to meet him, pushing +back the pink kerchief and smiling afar off at him with the involuntary +smile of loving pleasure. + +I came to look for you, Mary, said Mr. Garth. Let us walk about a +bit. + +Mary knew quite well that her father had something particular to say: +his eyebrows made their pathetic angle, and there was a tender gravity +in his voice: these things had been signs to her when she was Lettys +age. She put her arm within his, and they turned by the row of +nut-trees. + +It will be a sad while before you can be married, Mary, said her +father, not looking at her, but at the end of the stick which he held +in his other hand. + +Not a sad while, fatherI mean to be merry, said Mary, laughingly. I +have been single and merry for four-and-twenty years and more: I +suppose it will not be quite as long again as that. Then, after a +little pause, she said, more gravely, bending her face before her +fathers, If you are contented with Fred? + +Caleb screwed up his mouth and turned his head aside wisely. + +Now, father, you did praise him last Wednesday. You said he had an +uncommon notion of stock, and a good eye for things. + +Did I? said Caleb, rather slyly. + +Yes, I put it all down, and the date, _anno Domini_, and everything, +said Mary. You like things to be neatly booked. And then his behavior +to you, father, is really good; he has a deep respect for you; and it +is impossible to have a better temper than Fred has. + +Ay, ay; you want to coax me into thinking him a fine match. + +No, indeed, father. I dont love him because he is a fine match. + +What for, then? + +Oh, dear, because I have always loved him. I should never like +scolding any one else so well; and that is a point to be thought of in +a husband. + +Your mind is quite settled, then, Mary? said Caleb, returning to his +first tone. Theres no other wish come into it since things have been +going on as they have been of late? (Caleb meant a great deal in that +vague phrase;) because, better late than never. A woman must not force +her heartshell do a man no good by that. + +My feelings have not changed, father, said Mary, calmly. I shall be +constant to Fred as long as he is constant to me. I dont think either +of us could spare the other, or like any one else better, however much +we might admire them. It would make too great a difference to uslike +seeing all the old places altered, and changing the name for +everything. We must wait for each other a long while; but Fred knows +that. + +Instead of speaking immediately, Caleb stood still and screwed his +stick on the grassy walk. Then he said, with emotion in his voice, +Well, Ive got a bit of news. What do you think of Fred going to live +at Stone Court, and managing the land there? + +How can that ever be, father? said Mary, wonderingly. + +He would manage it for his aunt Bulstrode. The poor woman has been to +me begging and praying. She wants to do the lad good, and it might be a +fine thing for him. With saving, he might gradually buy the stock, and +he has a turn for farming. + +Oh, Fred would be so happy! It is too good to believe. + +Ah, but mind you, said Caleb, turning his head warningly, I must +take it on _my_ shoulders, and be responsible, and see after +everything; and that will grieve your mother a bit, though she maynt +say so. Fred had need be careful. + +Perhaps it is too much, father, said Mary, checked in her joy. There +would be no happiness in bringing you any fresh trouble. + +Nay, nay; work is my delight, child, when it doesnt vex your mother. +And then, if you and Fred get married, here Calebs voice shook just +perceptibly, hell be steady and saving; and youve got your mothers +cleverness, and mine too, in a womans sort of way; and youll keep him +in order. Hell be coming by-and-by, so I wanted to tell you first, +because I think youd like to tell _him_ by yourself. After that, I +could talk it well over with him, and we could go into business and the +nature of things. + +Oh, you dear good father! cried Mary, putting her hands round her +fathers neck, while he bent his head placidly, willing to be caressed. +I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the +world! + +Nonsense, child; youll think your husband better. + +Impossible, said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; husbands are +an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order. + +When they were entering the house with Letty, who had run to join them, +Mary saw Fred at the orchard-gate, and went to meet him. + +What fine clothes you wear, you extravagant youth! said Mary, as Fred +stood still and raised his hat to her with playful formality. You are +not learning economy. + +Now that is too bad, Mary, said Fred. Just look at the edges of +these coat-cuffs! It is only by dint of good brushing that I look +respectable. I am saving up three suitsone for a wedding-suit. + +How very droll you will look!like a gentleman in an old +fashion-book. + +Oh no, they will keep two years. + +Two years! be reasonable, Fred, said Mary, turning to walk. Dont +encourage flattering expectations. + +Why not? One lives on them better than on unflattering ones. If we +cant be married in two years, the truth will be quite bad enough when +it comes. + +I have heard a story of a young gentleman who once encouraged +flattering expectations, and they did him harm. + +Mary, if youve got something discouraging to tell me, I shall bolt; I +shall go into the house to Mr. Garth. I am out of spirits. My father is +so cut uphome is not like itself. I cant bear any more bad news. + +Should you call it bad news to be told that you were to live at Stone +Court, and manage the farm, and be remarkably prudent, and save money +every year till all the stock and furniture were your own, and you were +a distinguished agricultural character, as Mr. Borthrop Trumbull +saysrather stout, I fear, and with the Greek and Latin sadly +weather-worn? + +You dont mean anything except nonsense, Mary? said Fred, coloring +slightly nevertheless. + +That is what my father has just told me of as what may happen, and he +never talks nonsense, said Mary, looking up at Fred now, while he +grasped her hand as they walked, till it rather hurt her; but she would +not complain. + +Oh, I could be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary, and we could be +married directly. + +Not so fast, sir; how do you know that I would not rather defer our +marriage for some years? That would leave you time to misbehave, and +then if I liked some one else better, I should have an excuse for +jilting you. + +Pray dont joke, Mary, said Fred, with strong feeling. Tell me +seriously that all this is true, and that you are happy because of +itbecause you love me best. + +It is all true, Fred, and I am happy because of itbecause I love you +best, said Mary, in a tone of obedient recitation. + +They lingered on the door-step under the steep-roofed porch, and Fred +almost in a whisper said + +When we were first engaged, with the umbrella-ring, Mary, you used +to + +The spirit of joy began to laugh more decidedly in Marys eyes, but the +fatal Ben came running to the door with Brownie yapping behind him, +and, bouncing against them, said + +Fred and Mary! are you ever coming in?or may I eat your cake? + + + + +FINALE. + +Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending. Who can quit young +lives after being long in company with them, and not desire to know +what befell them in their after-years? For the fragment of a life, +however typical, is not the sample of an even web: promises may not be +kept, and an ardent outset may be followed by declension; latent powers +may find their long-waited opportunity; a past error may urge a grand +retrieval. + +Marriage, which has been the bourne of so many narratives, is still a +great beginning, as it was to Adam and Eve, who kept their honeymoon in +Eden, but had their first little one among the thorns and thistles of +the wilderness. It is still the beginning of the home epicthe gradual +conquest or irremediable loss of that complete union which makes the +advancing years a climax, and age the harvest of sweet memories in +common. + +Some set out, like Crusaders of old, with a glorious equipment of hope +and enthusiasm and get broken by the way, wanting patience with each +other and the world. + +All who have cared for Fred Vincy and Mary Garth will like to know that +these two made no such failure, but achieved a solid mutual happiness. +Fred surprised his neighbors in various ways. He became rather +distinguished in his side of the county as a theoretic and practical +farmer, and produced a work on the Cultivation of Green Crops and the +Economy of Cattle-Feeding which won him high congratulations at +agricultural meetings. In Middlemarch admiration was more reserved: +most persons there were inclined to believe that the merit of Freds +authorship was due to his wife, since they had never expected Fred +Vincy to write on turnips and mangel-wurzel. + +But when Mary wrote a little book for her boys, called Stories of +Great Men, taken from Plutarch, and had it printed and published by +Gripp & Co., Middlemarch, every one in the town was willing to give the +credit of this work to Fred, observing that he had been to the +University, where the ancients were studied, and might have been a +clergyman if he had chosen. + +In this way it was made clear that Middlemarch had never been deceived, +and that there was no need to praise anybody for writing a book, since +it was always done by somebody else. + +Moreover, Fred remained unswervingly steady. Some years after his +marriage he told Mary that his happiness was half owing to Farebrother, +who gave him a strong pull-up at the right moment. I cannot say that he +was never again misled by his hopefulness: the yield of crops or the +profits of a cattle sale usually fell below his estimate; and he was +always prone to believe that he could make money by the purchase of a +horse which turned out badlythough this, Mary observed, was of course +the fault of the horse, not of Freds judgment. He kept his love of +horsemanship, but he rarely allowed himself a days hunting; and when +he did so, it was remarkable that he submitted to be laughed at for +cowardliness at the fences, seeming to see Mary and the boys sitting on +the five-barred gate, or showing their curly heads between hedge and +ditch. + +There were three boys: Mary was not discontented that she brought forth +men-children only; and when Fred wished to have a girl like her, she +said, laughingly, that would be too great a trial to your mother. +Mrs. Vincy in her declining years, and in the diminished lustre of her +housekeeping, was much comforted by her perception that two at least of +Freds boys were real Vincys, and did not feature the Garths. But +Mary secretly rejoiced that the youngest of the three was very much +what her father must have been when he wore a round jacket, and showed +a marvellous nicety of aim in playing at marbles, or in throwing stones +to bring down the mellow pears. + +Ben and Letty Garth, who were uncle and aunt before they were well in +their teens, disputed much as to whether nephews or nieces were more +desirable; Ben contending that it was clear girls were good for less +than boys, else they would not be always in petticoats, which showed +how little they were meant for; whereupon Letty, who argued much from +books, got angry in replying that God made coats of skins for both Adam +and Eve alikealso it occurred to her that in the East the men too wore +petticoats. But this latter argument, obscuring the majesty of the +former, was one too many, for Ben answered contemptuously, The more +spooneys they! and immediately appealed to his mother whether boys +were not better than girls. Mrs. Garth pronounced that both were alike +naughty, but that boys were undoubtedly stronger, could run faster, and +throw with more precision to a greater distance. With this oracular +sentence Ben was well satisfied, not minding the naughtiness; but Letty +took it ill, her feeling of superiority being stronger than her +muscles. + +Fred never became richhis hopefulness had not led him to expect that; +but he gradually saved enough to become owner of the stock and +furniture at Stone Court, and the work which Mr. Garth put into his +hands carried him in plenty through those bad times which are always +present with farmers. Mary, in her matronly days, became as solid in +figure as her mother; but, unlike her, gave the boys little formal +teaching, so that Mrs. Garth was alarmed lest they should never be well +grounded in grammar and geography. Nevertheless, they were found quite +forward enough when they went to school; perhaps, because they had +liked nothing so well as being with their mother. When Fred was riding +home on winter evenings he had a pleasant vision beforehand of the +bright hearth in the wainscoted parlor, and was sorry for other men who +could not have Mary for their wife; especially for Mr. Farebrother. He +was ten times worthier of you than I was, Fred could now say to her, +magnanimously. To be sure he was, Mary answered; and for that reason +he could do better without me. But youI shudder to think what you +would have beena curate in debt for horse-hire and cambric +pocket-handkerchiefs! + +On inquiry it might possibly be found that Fred and Mary still inhabit +Stone Courtthat the creeping plants still cast the foam of their +blossoms over the fine stone-wall into the field where the walnut-trees +stand in stately rowand that on sunny days the two lovers who were +first engaged with the umbrella-ring may be seen in white-haired +placidity at the open window from which Mary Garth, in the days of old +Peter Featherstone, had often been ordered to look out for Mr. Lydgate. + +Lydgates hair never became white. He died when he was only fifty, +leaving his wife and children provided for by a heavy insurance on his +life. He had gained an excellent practice, alternating, according to +the season, between London and a Continental bathing-place; having +written a treatise on Gout, a disease which has a good deal of wealth +on its side. His skill was relied on by many paying patients, but he +always regarded himself as a failure: he had not done what he once +meant to do. His acquaintances thought him enviable to have so charming +a wife, and nothing happened to shake their opinion. Rosamond never +committed a second compromising indiscretion. She simply continued to +be mild in her temper, inflexible in her judgment, disposed to admonish +her husband, and able to frustrate him by stratagem. As the years went +on he opposed her less and less, whence Rosamond concluded that he had +learned the value of her opinion; on the other hand, she had a more +thorough conviction of his talents now that he gained a good income, +and instead of the threatened cage in Bride Street provided one all +flowers and gilding, fit for the bird of paradise that she resembled. +In brief, Lydgate was what is called a successful man. But he died +prematurely of diphtheria, and Rosamond afterwards married an elderly +and wealthy physician, who took kindly to her four children. She made a +very pretty show with her daughters, driving out in her carriage, and +often spoke of her happiness as a rewardshe did not say for what, +but probably she meant that it was a reward for her patience with +Tertius, whose temper never became faultless, and to the last +occasionally let slip a bitter speech which was more memorable than the +signs he made of his repentance. He once called her his basil plant; +and when she asked for an explanation, said that basil was a plant +which had flourished wonderfully on a murdered mans brains. Rosamond +had a placid but strong answer to such speeches. Why then had he chosen +her? It was a pity he had not had Mrs. Ladislaw, whom he was always +praising and placing above her. And thus the conversation ended with +the advantage on Rosamonds side. But it would be unjust not to tell, +that she never uttered a word in depreciation of Dorothea, keeping in +religious remembrance the generosity which had come to her aid in the +sharpest crisis of her life. + +Dorothea herself had no dreams of being praised above other women, +feeling that there was always something better which she might have +done, if she had only been better and known better. Still, she never +repented that she had given up position and fortune to marry Will +Ladislaw, and he would have held it the greatest shame as well as +sorrow to him if she had repented. They were bound to each other by a +love stronger than any impulses which could have marred it. No life +would have been possible to Dorothea which was not filled with emotion, +and she had now a life filled also with a beneficent activity which she +had not the doubtful pains of discovering and marking out for herself. +Will became an ardent public man, working well in those times when +reforms were begun with a young hopefulness of immediate good which has +been much checked in our days, and getting at last returned to +Parliament by a constituency who paid his expenses. Dorothea could have +liked nothing better, since wrongs existed, than that her husband +should be in the thick of a struggle against them, and that she should +give him wifely help. Many who knew her, thought it a pity that so +substantive and rare a creature should have been absorbed into the life +of another, and be only known in a certain circle as a wife and mother. +But no one stated exactly what else that was in her power she ought +rather to have donenot even Sir James Chettam, who went no further +than the negative prescription that she ought not to have married Will +Ladislaw. + +But this opinion of his did not cause a lasting alienation; and the way +in which the family was made whole again was characteristic of all +concerned. Mr. Brooke could not resist the pleasure of corresponding +with Will and Dorothea; and one morning when his pen had been +remarkably fluent on the prospects of Municipal Reform, it ran off into +an invitation to the Grange, which, once written, could not be done +away with at less cost than the sacrifice (hardly to be conceived) of +the whole valuable letter. During the months of this correspondence Mr. +Brooke had continually, in his talk with Sir James Chettam, been +presupposing or hinting that the intention of cutting off the entail +was still maintained; and the day on which his pen gave the daring +invitation, he went to Freshitt expressly to intimate that he had a +stronger sense than ever of the reasons for taking that energetic step +as a precaution against any mixture of low blood in the heir of the +Brookes. + +But that morning something exciting had happened at the Hall. A letter +had come to Celia which made her cry silently as she read it; and when +Sir James, unused to see her in tears, asked anxiously what was the +matter, she burst out in a wail such as he had never heard from her +before. + +Dorothea has a little boy. And you will not let me go and see her. And +I am sure she wants to see me. And she will not know what to do with +the babyshe will do wrong things with it. And they thought she would +die. It is very dreadful! Suppose it had been me and little Arthur, and +Dodo had been hindered from coming to see me! I wish you would be less +unkind, James! + +Good heavens, Celia! said Sir James, much wrought upon, what do you +wish? I will do anything you like. I will take you to town to-morrow if +you wish it. And Celia did wish it. + +It was after this that Mr. Brooke came, and meeting the Baronet in the +grounds, began to chat with him in ignorance of the news, which Sir +James for some reason did not care to tell him immediately. But when +the entail was touched on in the usual way, he said, My dear sir, it +is not for me to dictate to you, but for my part I would let that +alone. I would let things remain as they are. + +Mr. Brooke felt so much surprised that he did not at once find out how +much he was relieved by the sense that he was not expected to do +anything in particular. + +Such being the bent of Celias heart, it was inevitable that Sir James +should consent to a reconciliation with Dorothea and her husband. Where +women love each other, men learn to smother their mutual dislike. Sir +James never liked Ladislaw, and Will always preferred to have Sir +Jamess company mixed with another kind: they were on a footing of +reciprocal tolerance which was made quite easy only when Dorothea and +Celia were present. + +It became an understood thing that Mr. and Mrs. Ladislaw should pay at +least two visits during the year to the Grange, and there came +gradually a small row of cousins at Freshitt who enjoyed playing with +the two cousins visiting Tipton as much as if the blood of these +cousins had been less dubiously mixed. + +Mr. Brooke lived to a good old age, and his estate was inherited by +Dorotheas son, who might have represented Middlemarch, but declined, +thinking that his opinions had less chance of being stifled if he +remained out of doors. + +Sir James never ceased to regard Dorotheas second marriage as a +mistake; and indeed this remained the tradition concerning it in +Middlemarch, where she was spoken of to a younger generation as a fine +girl who married a sickly clergyman, old enough to be her father, and +in little more than a year after his death gave up her estate to marry +his cousinyoung enough to have been his son, with no property, and not +well-born. Those who had not seen anything of Dorothea usually observed +that she could not have been a nice woman, else she would not have +married either the one or the other. + +Certainly those determining acts of her life were not ideally +beautiful. They were the mixed result of young and noble impulse +struggling amidst the conditions of an imperfect social state, in which +great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the +aspect of illusion. For there is no creature whose inward being is so +strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new +Theresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual +life, any more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in +daring all for the sake of a brothers burial: the medium in which +their ardent deeds took shape is forever gone. But we insignificant +people with our daily words and acts are preparing the lives of many +Dorotheas, some of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that +of the Dorothea whose story we know. + +Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were +not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus +broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on +the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was +incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly +dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you +and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived +faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs. + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIDDLEMARCH *** + + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous onethe old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given awayyou may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE + +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase Project +Gutenberg), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (the +Foundation or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work +on which the phrase Project Gutenberg appears, or with which the +phrase Project Gutenberg is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at www.gutenberg.org. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase Project +Gutenberg associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format +other than Plain Vanilla ASCII or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original Plain +Vanilla ASCII or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works +provided that: + + You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation. + + You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg + works. + + You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + + You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg works. + + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain Defects, such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the Right +of Replacement or Refund described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you AS-IS, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg + +Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenbergs +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundations EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your states laws. + +The Foundations business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundations website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org. + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/distributor b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/distributor index c3d9d4d28ea9ef93115d97c4af1bfc3349b01f92..6955b18c886e499fcbc4935b5cb6f67c875445c4 100755 GIT binary patch delta 5362 zcmZWt3v^V)8NRc-H`&c|^W4pIH-wNNk{1aPFfU=@hG&2vQa}PBkQ^ildGI);T{MQW ztgEaef=7yYP@%v%8doi(JR(#ANF@~Hgc>y10vm!zfYgB6+y9@rH;{JD+4<-H=YM?v zKQs5v-i{y0_SAtcRkQRLi3T13)F zDP2e8kXxg;Y=C+k8VkuT8WV8)>wQ-ae~@tXv(BB4o8QNHccY>Pekt%H@biHm8*s6Z zLa%5ONfjl&W*y8Aq0O2w@*U04nMesG(C=jZJ|?+N-MU3&8USCyfka=$LV%P;OibhN zOrz8{oh+kn-y_}3={-WxTMI!7_Sq$6#f(U zn@|L;a8uzMqALwpj6PcEXUZrD<6cfp<5bUya7S4;^UT3=Gj;flCkga#ekS^hUqE2j z3_g!_PNu*5nMjH!!vCCxSn0LE*@1e++!v;kJQ+c6laGxBnm{?}c%C3sB!INLo#uwd z7rzIA<%rq2f^dIXYOv*H=2dd#z6E-cOMD&4nEv_*$tjKoC8?>k-XM1cTQ;EL359}w zCDYGdLidNp5|N$?jelY!h=hhwbEL-HmZxDTIj+?QO3qv#kjoK!LF6ryW%;D2qsFjt zNmqZBWyxW?BQ^f+j?fSV!MDYtQJeS1FS2|P<8>#|ny}amyE zTfgHtObl;tY}H6*r$Err0xJr@zQQQ8AR^Rc2)H#WAkJ}*3`Cs@y+?;mPg8ez#`Ga9 z)234oAadgoBtk<9IB1FC`7U7&np$xlLTFVV-PhraN={~YRLd~5dHbj_!erm7m_`gX z{fx6L5_noO;Au1WgdvuKn8W6jkfx3jaE!nt)K7#g@)amfm<9tiizhi0Zr|p04Mz4Yuzaz4b&w+mBsorkKP~si!T3Dp z)LEcsj;0O{k`X}I{g7HBBMUA^^SXBPSryS{?n_0~!&$XfPY)oPK^r2a zpbgv!hjEsE8JQe3^KsF(*G-Z3QA~mxgX`6R&z?DughheyWB;I{Y~hHykO1BnIjbW2 zp0g^VQQ(Z%Xd)~=l$M)ejjl$q3?q5e`87$ojS$m?TTG0 zv)jrJ18L{aHL;LQvf3PF*qXcy?hzzH!z_p!ub>JVjOs&VU1G;*hys~)^)bvUD)I=G z9j9lhuzD&WGZw=keu1`5@hB44R$fX5rG#6nC)375RVkrX4-U1B<5COY1(p>+a?a^r zDvb#DOTtS?z34sHM-N0N+HYoKxWFLYJrlR8<2XynyC1y33#tG-ZHeT$ow~<@^ka}09t&8CW0&a2;%XTK0he^_2;GH_7GS~H>pKkI-@#3v<4anZ+k21hjvYb9(Q~mT>j@TJ z3};c;!z+TtV{7RB;x6@xOGy0qE_yow4mu>|IsXodNQZi|w$RCO$>zN%WJ<-bOjtLz zKnc_lmzX&cBROnJnej$3f`{^s0y7q`8+&fp=Kb{^{Wi`zbU*rZiQ$UwtzJd9rydkp zu7~c?A@NDEOL%Zr$7i|GPvN|F+h|$*%%Oc?3O4 zNuys{5>tDAMAU;)??4fx&aWn2+!srAyYhytiy=I%7H?o{gM`k4!z6J3XgT7E0WZbA3ALyf9KmvUALM({Z!|xw}qY|&g1M^FL z)cGACPNeQE3t2*&vl7V{^lKRZk@i7k2*!*~M+%qr# zLlQDkx$|=kK`_&h!c4y+0eq+<~5NkA#`NM$N5RU2YU{3Y0=FA_@Sr-Htg3l5ohEJuROG)t0_lA^|wnEhtbObO3 zw{n%2P>j_Sbawz*@JTM-Nyin%z)qW6WR1G?NF@s`kC9L`xa&)|6b&0;(W^;enU$=| zFzXdO>l{?T^$4e@i`Lp(MMM?`*KKTz@XZE|?AQ!{TO&pT+Zw(U1X}lDd&F0Os5Jp+ zwC<1W#$`3aDSxb=#$7BrLG`phF1W^BDwY6u#(a&rmUF0Fu))3*1AvCftDaV&){m^?R6s5L}>C`59dtl-cT>@ zfWR9WM6LTkU91-F@z{2;9zF)tudEUF(EC%KGN|WuG0mR3Fyztk6V?K4uz1KKuY3aRyk6&L8p zzi3Ix8>EPKmz3)DxuX9X(Q=m-&za{V?h-BfGj#u)r;=f)*Pj+NI^v_ZioP(=_~>_v zhI!YZiN=_^)-~^|?-n_{!Y%e&iN4ELjv~ zRX!ys84CxXq*lQ!80m{k)`Gd0^YbHz!G$6QrP zNC#b4ofg^(ryH9};l0vQof>i+4gofm&Y};h)BMb^VX?uRC9`Ib_-wZ=r}t_lfJzZt4@J6*Rb&EQpX^3vv2lVDFg0NKC?L7GvU<5!F? zX=ue+p4!@pgrv|zb!i5pQe7kMt;>hcQW^EwuY!IYZHE4B+6#RV&1lFs%rD^{GU>X8 n9O9zQ4f&*-_QK4;#e8Nh9kV*ekY2&L^>p3p9CCm*uTK6iw5ECo delta 5094 zcmY*d32;`>m+0mhAfZ}B4!(G_yHuL1OYdeASOm7fdtgTX{;EF zwrQljfXY}HN)X&eAgC}11Qwtv#|VQsSdbOj6G?z7g+P##seB&i7r8WqpKT)ddnl{KGO1{;(uDJ22sJDhNk(ZEdI|$x^o_i{iXVI-~KseH*ZLqjX;5n}*d| zs0V#8KggDs8zrK2J|JeZn5159yTYdrm50OoK@*q*ehRY1@gD2;m103{&Va;V8_R4f z2>!-^^~%-<+d@)1*{<+115`!ES4~F{HKw{)l5Q-@4oiNSdn(@I%_Wkgc;$^W6%91T zC?0tt8YwO9jTW^xEO{jv9?@pBZ{YR?Pr<&(1Qr85kx3(pQ6x2unW;1vAHNTmiu-(H zsNyNMqFjyHgCc*ms;WojXmCW0Pw)R-RTa0hPicO!Pil%o@NEg?)Zzd2wyN$Syo-sj zGAbd@@dvjYK+6HCDIG1>XqKO$rQ*RD==Cth6JA~LbyODn7JiA!PmD$D63u$7upV$b zuXvnSlgV z&HHJRnzGR2WV|Tj1@6((PI`zet0piN0F}%Ugi#f05;Au8Z%Pc#Yi8Q)VWhA_~>qZo)Eq zL>7EPO)`aXxAc;HYs28x4_3LnNQ)-@uEXu~yN zwoKRDyG8pk+~pOD$E#(<)9}WWa~nDi!gB+e&BUxmX<4OBRG1GpUnY7^m|h!b7dgtEJ~qI4);?od3RVD+6j ziL8Ko9dFEc!QG^w-cQ3tdX(*6JTp54jddyBDu&uET*-SAF#x&4 zVqGa(5)A@IKWC95iSb&n2}6@uI5df^$nHUS>2eL$;im?;tc8cwlyT^)pzx#Pey|)CiUhjAvO7YAbSg4GQPR~NzM%h357YK__b3H&&yrGM1 z6ztAr^$JEgNVi`9eYiS6xgunl2Kgq(aJJ*NnH3LeVit3Mp6(gS$L;LxaCT7ukMpZ$ zKXW_Jb~sN_7?1O;@}_dA*GT*QKbJ7}Ura#TgVOYpRq(!JjpTKN^V}+rrB2NwwD{xkar>E2DBul zCwz$-6!FgPrL|YS6)n1X3yvmDA3j?*z)jSuaNZ@tevZ8c%&MxOCL`nES+E6m;#T*3q1rb$Di4zw!@ALMo<4Xe~R4-E3NZ(<=(@fXmk=R&bt@7 zbBDp1yqLD|(SA04-C0##ho-xKP}LPUfBY|1{Q~EJbEtgb5I`_pzGg8u><<^li6H|C`e<6p`aj{ zZG@RfPeT*ZY*>%-N89!m1e&S-d-V5V{r#7aY3$P$I^O{oi<8+Zu$0VY+o853*>Ib| zt0g7O4#!H8BOJlPEl^C70yj%a4FeXqw={`uX`55}3B#9gF~T9Pd~{He_9A}Tf`3F} zVQruZ7MF*xFj!GubeFR2VELb9m#G?GZG!7q$YU6y24CeE!^EN`%kRjCoZ;eT5?{dG zWwervtB_b8A-_FbzlrqGwELDQbPhSrrAJ8GN#rDvZ;8B$Hjdby3hI=t{H9&PffB+K&kcVh+34|2BoIw2szTop|eR$L^8G_fN3`Z z2Ai3ca;zj>02*^LS2AtESBQ{M;aI0TGFnN-MD)&h2Mw$@457`Wq&7*W1yuYKqG_!p zrpS8d)?o0^^*rl+kgLSwyZclne)3g4wqz=#T!#rr88=qsYKf+D-{uuKNJ={)YBpIh zhp?|$IKfYZok}`;8opK1bDDKK$;2?Huy$dxk;J@*rasIp?5Gfb1|uutSr1IAaKv4` zW0Fsv2U#RJ1mWSW$cQR5V*p+hwV789-4)N756G0kj$tr;a-8cx^g?8ezAs!cClKX8 z%By%1jlLbO@J02~(O_~n_^M2;X`v_vUzr?>Hpet>s=N)k;~ICr z{0^q|RXCj!gKu``!}tnMgYF14>MW!2((lF<>yDxmB_Bg_GWIph!QiWr61LKHjiX3R zQh2R&1>&b9TVBUoB#k7PFr{wVqanc<(dg@3ia?U|7*Evb>sl&f3#8_t6+xt3*(kq_ z;a}#-8GRouO=!h8M;fi1;-BcoXX>S`aC^!)i+%ylf#Ru;MT8{^i)C02jh?m-r|x8i z-41ws+I+SE+NYJJY)uwAlUAIi7!S*gxDnVZ>|oI8WJsw@H(W{rr818N!wZ$^Yz?$l zX0r|OP3068))rq?W@4w{(HZMl5%kZP7kFL{UM|OX!kn3N49S~e&&+YD=FO79!~)C? zJaPt;A;7#zw#+$?Lk>SL%bVrc3t)TbQbd}uX0lvPrq^WI7;nx7`z#MaY?-wph^>Z{ z1#|Jv^wI(wGs9a8mgnuj{|_|gVy-kkz+Z&HF6n>wxe&?c_=}XRQW%t1+u{aWq!oNl z({6xdEy}A9(zJ%Pr^%!Y-~BF9-?t?;08rV zaZ;J~p&?6yeizE0w6TNS@+7CzC9%+qei0*2T2#sM~I6oAvB`#@b=;;+)9sc)`)oXS~bb zTAUrR1qXl^de zv6%JGH;~s@iu=*P=}x3$pdTqfUQ;P6hlZw7%Y!onMk?%WDr8O2kD6}CTUKgmoi8-= X;Q3{R7O6&Xb+C6?A*+M_Wtsm6JAE*| diff --git a/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/worker b/praxis3/cmake-build-debug/worker index bb56b60339406bb4a5e2e16f45934a23d9655126..ff883a41f61f8d9c9c3233f7f0a2b1f1f1a34f6a 100755 GIT binary patch delta 8399 zcmZ8m3w%>Wx}S4SPI8hoY0|W`X`xLYl!r<|aLco_LM2!pMPLC}g+dEd=#x~G6#`qT z*3#8DpzJQX;PrtQ{fSonbwQvCS|58Aye^`vf?ixx>uMF1qOQ6BZ|0;b(_d!h`@aA8 zm~Upz%sG9fSK0h;+-LT~f37 zOr<~>&u>v;-sdluyn(i(Rn1ba_+evmS^pm+f9WV5wQa@!6(9Jx;)jC-RPoEjPr=WM zpXf+7%jF+vxyo#=SW@|B-J<01r&OQvDIa4=RSr?jcU#l=GE15=R$vT0P5DAd_lSC@ zsDBXkOQJq0>VJy*Qa(>FP}Y#9GE3A8_*39KC8WayXD|0!3wXbt#ur;hD*?f4Cpj;+ zrYUFm3F{2LU$^kVwtF3`szU4PR;;P34|P0Y8=*KbH2J6S4~&uug<04pjM77cL`kl$ zMrL((hspB^+QRNJ>1QJMA|D#tWztRQ)pp9uqoApD&6cep8`j6S*i-$x%{lBVzgYT| z{Sw8-KLBR1sX@)DxsssNXLFY$)t@67vYsa!n&w<%-SmK1>2{*07S4|KS0fd z{!mJ=O}`DGU`toX9y^nmwV8lN%@+8Gz+Z7E|6S5xWg)*gDRboYV6mpL3xmy598hJ! z)=xsNVB3^Y;Kx$>Co>jZ5sSrM*2nR#q@Zz@%(uHf;T~T=!8-75_tznn!PXZKldtIa z|B1!meJG+TU2)1^23aRDCSgft|?4;7q6StMZDo_C_kNW?^CnjIw9}Glu zX;f(|jZP{(d+YIFTWKHEqYL<^+ z!vw7V8ITnR(8TxVn}BP72K>a6Q*y)P;nkxHk%i!v&+Bbu|Ip6HvDTKoXibs=SpoymJU9!swwxkS^C4j|W3FVqeX z60w`}un-!-_8o+P9pOi&F?=aZx3)YELGvN1S*Q?>H<*qyrDLhk9XHNV9u~_ea!`3S# zqD9x0Zq~+1tavYqV`=oBMsoNySEWzE;D@76ovbP>C@=e$r z38N|d8w{`mu!s<@n2{zj5#2=2;%lHg98HvXv2+nYF~}pN7rmE&?fUzsUMk2Vw3nhA zr3H#HD3bh^gvccS^}MhzrQOlpM7F*dY5Vv$CZas#%fU^foXZxg) z__|vwJ;r0ae;|}|0=KZgGI&X{*sUQwdgMH>Ps>)H@8>*isQSryejsgF`1$W(f5Oqm zPCQ>;!4~;4m9in8BxA7+vB{&s=8aL-G#Zc8xrN}gEdcY&j+k)x{=4olBa@CN$5 zivWbt*?2<0gq*}DFg184k|~QcHJWVgy~vjT7q$)|zTO1b5SE|(j^FJcabvwu=#Fj! zu;(45zPt2uni@F`x6zPV@w9B-*vFdcMSML^K@2P65&H1Al+$um(qgP%OPzk`^s^>k z9GSt#q)$~3e#;xvhbk-h&h)E%|MQKoe!TZOfcDdHpXOhs7i8Z+6V+CFia24yG4k~ z3`E+=5?eGnrbN(#U@Mv|ZLQ`v51y0v?$?ls;7%cUgPgofECfht0J;7g|7>u+|4ZUh zM%u~^v{)D-?*4Op#E_iJlf@WI%~_yxBFA*I0eW&Gsg|1E(YMd>jY9%?50cS#-DzUS z#<9Jj_>k^C$6pvSbjT9vy`KV_EtS6T$#H!671uJ$^FIGd#Md8egA+NBcYncx-fLg+ z^_g3has0>38f6f_F)MdeQXiClJ^I*}U=2*q8EH!lwUi&sx>CvM_$e!2p(jvBUiM`7 zJ)@VV&aABt1*XrPQ_5;8>RDq|C2Op%XN+$eT_3)xqIzvrWgt`+XslXMRee(x+J>g8 zbs;vRE)?$vRyNkvObiTN=U~B#+RC-nwW|WNOUi#Ht|^`V3u0!uP;RPS*Hm9$*BF9* z)2M^Zud1yi^%Zrsp{m-Dg{<;|FVajbvH?hj+Je4?h? z#JxBV-EsKseLogE!%N5J<}5*Ue}+|7;`ZF8PIFnc9ZG`DV7Pp-Tk-qfGyKl6nK`Qw z^y@S|1F)Ahf(5{O9zWkF{I#(;r9O{v3#V_&>(wDqS5H#@%I%=rix*@q0PhrqXD3 z;`AooGbKwo#_dH*l_0M!%2GObYtdAtlfPP&<*j!}E!^rv*~u?J7UUDAW+^{*ESY+{ z;{DEiF*6Z(9q1{(+;PEle~kmLPJ`~TS==gn&dHd3X($`QXP0CuPxG}U{_xMxxCzE= zhJF)f%zheSswY!RAh8*?W>A?Hy}C9;fCd0;9!nXLZ?o9wZ6?b|swAXh1aKnRRNEdj zo<_m4<_MPl7r^bU=xaOuqad+|JveK$KV=YMc}!wQkRJ7&RMA7&MImTxkR6g!mNCXG zI9JbtXBle?qG9T9z_I+s{t)_x+5#_@LP2=cK7?i&FNidCIl(3fBA||fwXkKPpoXhQ z$=oDCj8=0Im1VLZ#;eUFnIec{^)|9lEQp}`2-z+XM7eqc5myRgF)od?Sd}>Kh~pim>a|(_s?L6jVt4mg2tJxefkqR?m}Ub`s@pvpRw#a}qa!_=8H5 zYnf}*!CbTYB}wKbhC$q+ULazLYbOAAtF`3lcd4zA>{O4EbEUJ2%YmG+lqY06IUI@O^hStf$(Qqw6V%Z>ZNJI3rTM5o*QG&zA`q;rYecZq;g zMQky76qcAgFc+imTSGx@rCt|B^hW|%C@}*51UdrlW0w77l_oly_PhH&_tWUxpM$>D zoB1~So};L8h%w$a-qsHywGUBEG@P)U+Kuj{1X@{vN)cHeP%fRMNE(54Wa^$djMy}j+4}EPK*GlB<_Pq zO}rH>OX3P}3}(3nV#^kAatF{H#95ZsQwLLG&2z>K*F#_;L1gB~T(M5?ZcSIn4(!5WEPV!udSnjTRxqZ7968xlzM z6p6$xH2zFm%6ZWJ5ZGVDHJIK6(s`efcm-M=W0f}a?^V9;s@$+X6G+!FMc9}};!5BI zC40nU7NL9+5xM@Zc*xzY15kk{xeP<6mk?K%MDaL^>2x}|UXtu5<7_2Nqhk6?sNGu> zF`^SBe2DB(oovKZR};$z!mkP>)$?==z(8!M#St{)f2n6qca@ zm++*zomd298MNKpmD(e55Hp5{$@pu+`0K8Q5{WHuQtuzsJB!Ls zX3wD`?Hhlyz+<&AX2+>zPV{=XNZ2jcV1U?SSozZ^yl=v)Yb^1^3ew-8p;XDCloOkF zy*UHJG)nt-wuj(z@(_v(k;{fDyS4yrErI{uOCzrLN)d5L!VS%42E|+@Q;e&7vh@)6>$qftL*Bf z;iDI3j}E5c!=u&@dY_$ULXBJ}qIq0|tVWi(?=mf{gp`U#pMRb*gIUekh!~j4cB>EX z@l@!}L`B(EZ-*xu+V%{Y=T4dD?Uz$x!&+p&O!W4dGSPd(S_;rROxNWJYi?pYMJCnA zV)uB{zWI$3%Z=SD9${)^7KXeSCa2jd;W(Hg{4;Ss6oG8Teac#boJ>n2fEKxXZ8emyagZG?a;71naRpmws_trV-$|dWQ0QY4 z6^$0t4SsV8G-$M#mYU@L23TUO!o58#jBO5SUT~JXDEU}i4cezbuXaByrHz^fX|;zI zmlo-4&{lw~P4)w$MILIC!X_q2tGCi_{)*rrS z3BE01B=EztE)SQPkCU4KrgAg9sPYz^ zK(}B`-hx$m3--!eFaUH5R^=@?NgVB}&9e*oJ{;{ZV5dH_(fMu{eZxk_yCeMx)E?Vi zsGZIiuya`&v+Mz-D%KJF_p@_~$e5a-(XB+4*Xu!sDsR@RyjcU9gJ@M%T&gX52`Mi+ z##;W**%@IvapZwB0V7b(10X8qqI1FWq*_Mocfn@XKf}^NH$}TFj%6-7EUc9py|YL~ z>mqb_2-r4a65f=|#1Pwsgzm&7v6~`eJ>N9vGGh%ryKAg{ykkyoaW52WN(yLXg>hi`jnAEwwhU925BM6O}CXYv8Ep2gXZQIk&&_~Qmt4RDO*4k_D9(9Q5K{q z7DPium|ftPX3HH(0lt22U}*@$F3LBdH%laf_ha_O<}JEZnqMr;7fq8?xnqW@GQw1` zmt%BSn%0-$R9Xc3^4IuxbMu_j5P{E2j^E-#%kxx+&dbWvU85-J{rcX`7a>~P^DROFV+zj|v<%4+UJpV{V zndu{V!Z@ZGzk<86*-T#nmcQGnc$FkuN5#DBG$q6jFW9bJ;PV$=kN>Pay|5$Gspk81 zS48(1sk-Y4Jpt=ZQFD@XSDBt+yw0nCn?K0DM^7+bC4tol=uUK0tMLH;({HQGbbpg> zdq?*)=>>cAY=RunoyIEN)ubmM)ZI7f$<4a!fSw-G(?YtZKzC|4FV>SodMZJ$)|07G z^OAJC=H&AhRa=wK>G?(qKeVX8y5@jx)BODFMPapUNXNRxYt)WUuidP=@a?0%4sWAN z*Hv$*>R5UG1jV(XreW#8|Ks@mH$;p$sN=Gwi&S23weW2fvy|ugyA@NF-*crZm5*L- z_%A*kuf?o*uqXTZyydC>i?0rIFqZ*HqkPNqrS^db9Pe2^OzGp^6{#aGJ_BjfCowl> z8Xc6|Wy3zB|0#~S0E(n>Rxeg8gF0V)%6AT_+mQ7_tek8Ht7Lx;6M62yP?otJXX3c?x<*(q42^Q5ASRY z*yFPmY@LOqvxfu(1d^~A)+|DxBU=!VFd`(70GSXHla3C~_;nB> z#E{XZ28DT1LD7dk6`bJrv4}IM>Ja!_)_UTRmwRwO=w!I=!X6&QDn{LJEeD_H9?%gr{0>wT@qOizMmx1S*o|$ za`-JG*S53sye*5{6buM|!e%d;MPt!e9Yz*K14D_et`29+!q%I*7%6LPqbVQoKZ-d} zS-UAWC05&ME_MjNJwCTP+F&_3$7pq86F6?(3`>VvZvoGhXGmm)kl&b6n&+SsV>p(D`Xbg8G-JUcN0lzJ2I`AfXB=h_?;3zew(O?PUcl&OLXdp zTBuml*hQX=QxoCJJgr}N!#!MRDxSJYL)#8_(y7*4T-6ZT}g;i+@DW;yzD%+;d4p_c0g)lR?(f)nt>@muH%Q zt=9mFApjC&mxr2wx@&-|A}ub{*MbPAjxEB#JsYl+W34=`NB3S01}i;n+K^#z^|TiE z=XQD8T1eZ*T3hy`HAPBfAqWC#2TEd^9})Zn$?F?$ofRVQ@cdy8Gd7IuU#uLK!+X(!4CrJX>XA*XkWu7YHfM-I_1VL6_Xo) zX5&%PtC5?21W!oVtRlK0D3O~U9Iz;nn|lTX=8Z5Q+*{c50n`}fVYfN|<7BYyl(VP3 zokoFKqIjOx)0F5Ul@e|_15M9khHtyu7{k^6>%b=hZaFlGyj+hEUK93#0i%gD<^YUH zVZ85ng2D6GYXFMaXyhO_6vRCcUxx=CF~YT5ZZ>&;5Ak){;ekt%;1$ZzTw)_oXtFoJ z-qIDhsqEj9Ks5*o0+XblxhGBpem2BV;E@zq@;@LAi~1`)H^<5c!)po5?H7^m3}x0; zF~&Va@%D=)?wfpf{)hk*k2M_hv=yJkZd@owC?DGK*ztIt0-lZc2Ut@MURdAcLDRMf zxbU$ONAoTBcHn#BX)Erg>39tN%ZmX7=^Q+apfFZuALbix9HM&Kpvobx$Q!u!UdJ_? zxWYor`9F&6#NobA;*DiU!YF&bz%0GpgG=wh~ z!;@yjEc-zQI&*m`u=^?W9`Qg@c19_l4rtDiCWfu0`x~<}aq-?yKmE@5=+5iaH z#hP$77!x@X0g-=K&*NlkEAAqmd;3UvEQDD@B0uM8FXaY8uH92cLgw0y4*9-I;C9Q_ zIAi{nl4!=_`^Dkpj7jUr(NsNPn6Zk5QApz;vOCBkTO#Q+kckcg*Bq1U2N9PtH|w77 zVUx+7gO^VEt|S!_q@hF9`o!jxp~@e=7yDA;l$Jj6cFN!}yQN#PIpOp!-W+SBXoJOA zH>!~t_R@(!MW0AaP0z|Ew{}atiS7E%#9sD>hLF-HmZc6!`4SeW`pNeK_1i5AOsAUf z#IDrRto0#88-f^#ueweJzs28)*tAXj4Y4z=mOm|Q>6vl+dO`K;(RTETg7gIbfhbGA zmGA5PkMyCu^R0|25h5pi*S4JHY18Z0Ri#(2tM*n`tgXJU!dqRpj@4Gwvxcfl)=*t9 zp2$fS+j15T_f)K_TwA?vb^4s5QU@E5ZZDpGy;M@_5L0p!MNMvsNF9?Yp39vOonBj2 zTi38YeN|mUdP9{LvnIaJ{m9qxSul72!rF_$UT!C%lGLYs_tNADNG z;1sm6e-8%B(T)lPgUx7@z6u8SpdEqsEwnGA4WNDQaxkdlV6$8a28W@&AFT)N`(Fox zYtdqwsfd|l-Tb7e7#nZt{xldoBkmuY>Dz!@o&*OgiimnpnHFwU|IEW|I>SAK{eiqL z1%vds4%n6bWR~_0sJFwONAKnV|1l~7(xG}4pBFw42D7f`FW#uCi82Inh_rE*;ukPp z_w^VxRsx8FZrsm&84P}Ny`4BdAK+lbUni=^rSWB=bzG+MMnJqYE){p={~nj7eAFYp zfiOyhkI&?HcIJ+MSjR?~Fg$c$4c$+PpUO(J6O!vh&(t*B)@g1T%KaKAZt@#Cf zmpGN5=JGfUFPqV@dT|xDbTP3Yjepp=q+m1071<~O@sGkWjvn(meB6%j3xg6z!ltkq zCu7Ea`6bK=m3uTY`&PqXVO-i$#z3DkUYZ%Z#$zhbSapjJ%WbDUp?n-)BvrPpkWw{E z^*S#B?gPLYrOm*SSv8vNq|Tl!D3zX|SBra`o8=u6zxhHrD1r!;}JOv|H?Z(ASk_ z1kv)O5T#s2YCdg(loFI0!cCMyx-uMe+9W9qQ{E%G$x_HstT^4YDN>lAY$eN7DHJLX z6G5RAJjyy>xOQX&Pf z(o1>Y=A?MPQ!bEYPBhJ5vyvrpr@3$aitO_vX>GPBeIzUi-vRq0%Du#SXM8IxJCxVR zveYdg>{2dL@^{J5dzEgnb(%YQGz?m~jM=69i^8nXABXNOX4l0V(_&_flK`q{^5rT} zOt}hBmZ2X*Uq7@>)H_1q{zzyVpG3ciPJ~FDp5mh`jMbI;Arw)^Pz@%<1lt5#KZN-I zLGVes69n;{=uQr!ZGhcn+YFSQcB?HZsVI~~5^yqyJeF`5l=kd

ezkPsSam;ldP0 zI7yo0IOv(~@O?|#D90xxraRh!XN8Wl)HFxl4=9g30Fx3)Oj_hTXmqBnhgsVIP3EAb zu%_#_sJ9?x)l{u#x-M53+mEnzDd@@tc<7EqLPaUGB)Zdi4uTk8oQ!Yaw-*mvwGUdA z+1Ehph){b7Nx2RwCmxrTZfJa7B>Ope2hoZ6Mvovq_3?Lc>8@}^!R*BTKOE=9z@r9 zLd>`G_218oqX3n@?VZF)*78_DJ9VO5aHY2$C=Lm`3B(-$4!$HAb?F2|(m= zEGZ04*gmD2R0L#6TcC-kRDT}=F%lU;is4AIY1 z?+_|C(Vj%d;I}=aA!4;;`#;jkmDQUOBW#xvLEs-qEyp#KUYcQjO1O?Q#$2gWG?FS~ zBtuC37hoidFOJ>xCD{45wmqPE(mYNg(Wk;Y?f~2}1&D8B3847buwiuh;fJKd%lIBk zMIN_kdB;LL&eGvfJf*4ncla!QupG*zU9b8d@mccFIpmR|&%ec|9)bC=ljv3dE}!}} z+>SUarFhV%UPb5CFxq#Dzfett@l+f=HL8EF&q=qXcTLy*zT|+J&QhSM#2^_p4D0%bOCqyki0G4HhDMD9M=igT}N!G{%_r{l>IERAPvGeQGMe zZ9X$}sk7!D_D4CdNHTn<$v@u+!<^M@tHl_>Y)rs(WHrrJ3FFi_10k<;GLaJ8a4b_W zL(>unfc0-w2LV4_ju{Kws2;_{%rF+%=Ret~J`Z`8x!`9S)s=9*-9bF6zq`@du#zn@ zefKnm`{-vE6naHbQE6{2a~m6Cf1^r!Yq=>NYy=Zy6%k7$SF=|QgJMNE4FtQVQC+5D z{VQYL@KOCQG^(`EtK>#d{pS!Fn`^Zxb~WOuqI(K)$yWr@O^BlUaJ!uY;ca+oB4!_7U zSA@9`mLf!RC6R%ij11V^=Ef>j>7Y*>*kRJx2yB>;4( zRE$eyv^;qgTT}-qV(8>mbUXE#jZR*>?CUllBx$AVkf%RYsOxq1f;npm1 zdd}c{B2&Utx-}@qZFP{Y7#CH=xTpe3S5!rjS5$2;A&q+o4%N|flNQp6VjL(FF#`T0 z0J37?^xoI@DYHm@9%^Q#Q}jp#WlM**38TZnTB$Y+XsqSp@wx7#ky!k834WGL4(*pI<>Z`=rJTf?-sA!;N=(1mT5 z+&)}X&&$jwl37y?w?auWYavOh|Dew?Jq=bA4arcEvT{MJf;?uFC@IZy&PK!-7X=zG zepi}>8pSq3e!44G<))HhmOO_qcsmgsvdv70R6hb@U-OM=%Dm2GjVP2$DH@jOBtUtFyY z)#r$DW!cuXhb=ZWK~$Idl$Vk_zbdOy^pzF$6)UT~>pK_Txk2gt+g%g57_t1}&Nr9e zp@=R;6TP*XNM13UZxYoj3iw*#uZkC4D|Gjb=g@C3iBWhudc~y`@$MTB=>klBI;`Eo zwQ{+A;8i2mue^x|#O{^xOKv=0&VnzRMPOmjLD_6H>?^dSAD?0<`c3`6P5q5;!ASb2 zlPdumAX-8V4bCVdx(j8*ZxO!jMJ?US{j+D-5BsOvaGSv@B)hh_b)th;61 zD{D>My*i#pi6Yb^Wxs%G_icDd(=6S1bT5*aI*EC}#4JcRV$u3j*+Fa~usXrMLN8=-cF*j<-xPsi1TO1d~-muIgx zrF!A6&l~u?B=ozThM<7dRB`fOKdnM3V3k#TpnJ+!H^#FD#b;z8LB-N1iu#reDQ z?D|+Ep5Ezhn8|s+sAxzN&5cp^(Asp1os9*&SDcr%+gre$Vu`oFUQ=W^juX4RdHhLn z9=f9o4c!wWqbbjRCp~y5m7=04PkDX0_;XXfy}rUwCWuRbY*}qcAB&88^6blM3~3eS HC++_M*d_1J diff --git a/praxis3/zmq_distributor.c b/praxis3/zmq_distributor.c index 28b562a..1f5be5e 100644 --- a/praxis3/zmq_distributor.c +++ b/praxis3/zmq_distributor.c @@ -44,13 +44,13 @@ char *get_file_content(FILE *fp) if (delimiter_pos < 0) { - perror("No delimiting character was found -> taking whole buffer"); + printf("No delimiting character was found -> taking whole buffer"); delimiter_pos = (int)bytes_read; } - buffer[delimiter_pos] = '\0'; + buffer[delimiter_pos + 1] = '\0'; - if (fseek(fp, delimiter_pos - (int) bytes_read + 1, SEEK_CUR) != 0) + if (fseek(fp, delimiter_pos - (int) bytes_read + 2, SEEK_CUR) != 0) { perror("Failed to seek in file"); free(buffer); @@ -88,6 +88,7 @@ void *receiverFunc(void *args) zmq_ctx_destroy(context); return NULL; } + printf("[THREAD] Connected to worker: %s\n", addr); size_t len = strlen(params->data) + 4; char *request = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char) * len); @@ -116,7 +117,7 @@ void *receiverFunc(void *args) zmq_ctx_destroy(context); return NULL; } - + printf("[THREAD] Sent request: %s\n", request); if(zmq_send(requester, request, strlen(request), 0) == -1){ perror("[THREAD] Failed to send request"); free(params); @@ -128,6 +129,7 @@ void *receiverFunc(void *args) free(request); + printf("[THREAD]: Waiting for response\n"); char reply[MESSAGE_LENGTH]; int bytes_recv = zmq_recv(requester, reply, MESSAGE_LENGTH - 1, 0); if (bytes_recv == -1){ @@ -197,13 +199,13 @@ int main(const int argc, char **argv) { FILE *fp = fopen(argv[1], "r"); char *file_content_chunks; - int worker_index = 1; - int worker_count = argc - 1; + int worker_index = 2; + int worker_count = argc - 2; int thread_count = 0; pthread_t *threads = (pthread_t*)malloc(sizeof(pthread_t) * worker_count); - while ((file_content_chunks = get_file_content(fp)) != NULL && thread_count < worker_count) + while (thread_count < worker_count && (file_content_chunks = get_file_content(fp)) != NULL) { pthread_t receiver; diff --git a/praxis3/zmq_worker.c b/praxis3/zmq_worker.c index ab641df..de517f1 100644 --- a/praxis3/zmq_worker.c +++ b/praxis3/zmq_worker.c @@ -40,7 +40,7 @@ int main(int argc, char **argv){ printf("Initialized Thread: %d\n", thread_count); } - printf("Done initialization"); + printf("Init DONE\n"); // wait for workers to finish for(int i = 0; i < thread_count; i++){ @@ -96,6 +96,16 @@ void* workerFunc(void *args){ char request[MESSAGE_LENGTH + 1]; // CHECK: off by one error int bytes_recv = zmq_recv(responder, request, MESSAGE_LENGTH, 0); + if(bytes_recv <= 0){ + perror("Failed to receive request"); + continue; + } + + char endpoint[256]; + size_t endpoint_size = sizeof(endpoint); + if (zmq_getsockopt(responder, ZMQ_LAST_ENDPOINT, endpoint, &endpoint_size) == 0) { + printf("Got request from: %s\n", endpoint); + } const TYPE type = get_request_type(request); char *content = request + TYPE_LENGTH; @@ -104,15 +114,15 @@ void* workerFunc(void *args){ switch(type){ case MAP: - perror("Handling MAP\n"); + printf("Handling MAP\n"); ret = map(content, &head, &tail); break; case RED: - perror("Handling RED\n"); + printf("Handling RED\n"); ret = reduce(content); break; case RIP: - perror("Handling RIP\n"); + printf("Handling RIP\n"); // send errors are redundant to handle because exit zmq_send(responder, "rip", TYPE_LENGTH, 0); zmq_close(responder); @@ -125,8 +135,8 @@ void* workerFunc(void *args){ exit(1); break; } - - if(zmq_send(responder, ret, MESSAGE_LENGTH, 0) != 0){ + printf("Sending content: %s\n", ret); + if(zmq_send(responder, ret, strlen(ret), 0) != 0){ perror("Failed to send response"); zmq_close(responder); zmq_ctx_destroy(context); @@ -158,22 +168,18 @@ char* get_word(const char *request){ if(request == NULL || *request == '\0') return strdup(""); - int capacity = 16; int length = 0; - char *word = (char*)malloc(capacity); + char *word = (char*)malloc(sizeof(char)); if(!word) return NULL; while(*request && isalpha(*request)){ - if(length + 1 >= capacity){ - capacity *= 2; - char *new_word = (char*)realloc(word, capacity); - if(!new_word){ - free(word); - return NULL; - } - word = new_word; + char *new_word = (char*)realloc(word, strlen(word) + 2); // realloc word size + \0 and extra char space + if(!new_word){ + free(word); + return NULL; } + word = new_word; word[length++] = *request; request++; } @@ -193,7 +199,7 @@ char* map(const char *content, key_value_pair **head, key_value_pair **tail){ if(strcmp(word, "") != 0){ add_word(word, head, tail); } - content_iterator += strlen(word) + 1; + content_iterator += strlen(word) + 1; // skip current read word + one delimiter char free(word); } } @@ -210,12 +216,13 @@ char* map(const char *content, key_value_pair **head, key_value_pair **tail){ } if(!ret){ ret = strdup(kvp2str); + kvp_it = kvp_it->next; } else{ char *tmp = realloc(ret, strlen(ret) + strlen(kvp2str) + 1); if(!tmp){ free(ret); - perror("Failed to realloc memory for ret"); + perror("Failed to reallocate memory for ret"); free(kvp2str); return NULL; }