 middle march chapter 35 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for further information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org middle march by George Elliot chapter 35 no I don't understand any more charming pleasure than to see the retreats, a dead body, the forbidden maintenance, and the elongated mine, reading a long textamon or pal astonished, we leave them a good evening with a foot of nose. To see the natural, the deep sadness, I will come back, I croix exprès de l'autre monde. Reignard, le légataire universelle 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 Featherston's funeral procession, most of them having 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 Vinces had created a fellowship in hostility among all persons of the Featherston 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 vagar 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 Martha's children ought not to expect so much as the young walls, 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 middle-march-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 presence of oysters and other eatables to his rich cousin Peter. The other entirely satinine, leaning his hands and chin on the stick, and conscious of claims based on no narrow performance but on merit generally, both blameless citizens of Brassing, who wished that Jonah Fetherstone 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 shouldn't 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 narrow 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-face, 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 bitten as a mourner? Here were new possibilities, raising a new uncertainty which almost checked remark in the morning 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 Stonecourt when Mr. Featherston was downstairs and had sat alone with him for several hours. She had found an opportunity of mentioning this to her father, and perhaps Colibbs 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 gases, 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 wane 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 upstairs with the lawyer to search for the will, and Mrs. Wall, seeing two vacant seats between herself and Mr. Boothrock Trumbull, had the spirit to move next to that great authority who was handing his watchseals 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 brother's done, Mr. Trumbull, said Mrs. Wall, in the lowest of her woolly tones, while she turned her crepe-shadowed bonnet towards Mr. Trumbull's ear. My good lady, whatever was told me, was told in confidence, said the auctioneer, putting his hand up to screen that secret. Them, who've made sure of their good luck, may be disappointed yet, Mrs. Wall continued, finding some relief in this communication. Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Trumbull, still in confidence. Ah, said Mrs. Wall, looking across at the vintesses, and then moving back to the side of her sister, Martha. It's 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 wasn't a worse liver than we think of, Martha. Poor Mrs. Crunch 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 didn't marry into money. The eldest, that sits there, is but nineteen, so I leave you to guess, and stock always short, and land most awkward, but if ever I've begged and prayed, it's been to God above, though where there's one brother a bachelor, and the other childless, after twice marrying, anybody 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 back again, unopened, as an indulgence, which, however clarifying to the judgment, was unsuited to the occasion. I shouldn't wonder if Featherston 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 he'd left lots of small legacies. They may be uncommonly useful to fellows in a small way. Everything is as handsome as could be, crepe and silk and everything, said Mrs. Vincy, contentedly. But I am sorry to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, but I am sorry to laugh, which would have been more unsuitable than his father's snuff-box. Fred had overheard Mr. Jonah suggesting something about a love-child, and with this thought in his mind, the stranger's 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 Reg, 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 everyone's attention. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, and he had come to Stonecourt 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. Featherston. 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 taught 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 Featherston 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 Featherston 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 had a certain validity, and that there might be such an interlacement of poor Peter's former and latter intentions as to create endless lawing before anybody came by their own, an 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 person's 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 father, I see. Mr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his spectacles, a codicill to this latter will, bearing date March the 1st, 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 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 tablecloth or on Mr. Standish's bald head, excepting Mary Garth's. 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. Vincey 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. Vincey 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 favour of persons not present. Problematical, and it was to be feared, low connections. All together, reckoning hastily, here were about three thousand disposed of. Where, then, had Peter meant the rest of the money to go, and where the land, and what was revoked, and what not revoked, and 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 purcing 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. Wall's 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 Vinces 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 women. Possible 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 was—oh, possibilities! Oh, expectations founded on the favour of close old gentlemen! Oh, endless vocatives that would still leave expressions slipping helpless from the measurement of mortal folly! That residuary legatee was Joshua Rieg, who was also sole executor, and who was to take henceforth the name of Featherston. There was a rustling which seemed like a shudder running round the room. Everyone stared afresh at Mr. Rieg, 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 will. There 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 low parish, with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rieg. The residue of the property was to be devoted to the erection and endowment of arms houses for old men, to be called Featherston's arms houses, and to be built on a piece of land near Middlemarch, already bought for the purpose by the test data. He wishing, so the document declared, to 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 speak, after using his snuffbox energetically, and 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. A standish! Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think, said Mr. Standish. Everything is quite regular. Here is a letter from Clements of Brassing tied with the will. He drew it up. A very respectable solicitor. I never noticed any alienation of mind, any aberration of intellect in the late Mr. Featherston, said Borthrup 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 acknowledgement to me, but happily I am above mercenary considerations. There is 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. That's 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. I'll, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his fingertips 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 Featherston made himself heard. Well, he always was a fine hypocrite, was my brother Peter, but this will cuts out everything. If I had known a wagon and six horses shouldn't have drawn me from brassing. I'll put a white hat and drab coat on to-morrow. Dear, dear, wet Mrs. Cranch, and we've been at the expense of traveling, and that poor lad sitting idle here so long. It's 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 it's hard. I can think no other. It'll do him no good where he's gone. That's 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 arms-houses won't cover it when he's had the impudence to show it at the last. And all the while had got his own lawful family, brothers and sisters, and nephews and nieces, and has sat in church with them whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. Wall, and might have left his property so respectable to them that's never been used to extravagance or unsteadiness in no manner of way, and not so poor but what they could have saved every penny, and made more of it. And me, the trouble I've been at, times and times to come here and be sisterly, and him with things on his mind all the while that might make anybody's flesh creep. But if the Almighty's allowed it, he means to punish him for it. Brother Solomon, I shall be going, if you'll drive me. I've no desire to put my foot on the premises again, said Solomon. I've got land of my own, and property of my own to will away. It's a poor tale how luck goes in the world, said Jonah. It never answers to have a bit of spirit in you. You better be a dog in the manger. But those above ground might learn a lesson. One fool's will is enough in a family. There's more ways than one of being a fool, said Solomon. I shan't leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I shan't leave it to fondlings from Africa. I like featherstones that were brood such, and not turned featherstones with sticking the name on them. Solomon addressed these remarks and allowed aside to miss his wall, and 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 he was certain that he was quite without intentions of hospitality towards witty men whose name he was about to bear. Mr. Joshua Rieg, in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any innuendos, 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 middle-march Mercer waited for an opportunity of engaging Mr. Rieg 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 Fred's side and was crying silently while she held her darling's hand. He rose immediately, and turning his back on the company, while he said to her in an undertone, Don't give way, Lucy. Don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, before these people. He added, in his usual loud voice, Go and order the fate and, 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 Fred's lot. Goodbye, she said, with affection at sadness. Be brave, Fred. I do believe you are better without the money. What was the good of it to Mr. Featherston? That's 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. Goodbye. In a very short time Stonecourt was cleared of well-brewed Featherstons and other long-accustomed visitors. Another stranger had been brought to settle in the neighbourhood of Middlemarch, but in the case of Mr. Rieg Featherston, 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 trail of Joshua Rieg. 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 that, since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables where you might put a monkey for a margrave and vice versa, whatever 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 un-genteal, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style. Thus, while I tell the truth about Lubies, my reader's 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 Featherston, you perceive, was dared and buried some months before Lord Gray came into office. For being the nature of great spirits to love, to be where they may be most eminent, they, rating on themselves so far above, us in conceit with whom they do frequent, imagine how we wonder and esteem, all they do or say, which makes them strive to make our admiration more extreme, which they suppose they cannot, lest they give notice of their extreme and highest thoughts. Daniel, Tradidi or Filotas Mr. Vinci 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 the market for his silk braids, he swore at the groom. When his brother-in-law, Balstrud, had vexed him, he made cutting remarks on Methodis, and it was now apparent that he regarded Fred's idleness with a sudden increase of severity, by his throwing an embroidered cap out of the smoking-room onto the hall floor. Well, sir, he observed when the young gentleman was moving off to bed. I hope you've made up your mind now to go up next term and pass your examination. I've 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, read to cover on a fine hack, and be generally respected for doing so. Moreover, that he should be able at once to pay Mr. God, 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 gentleman's 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 his this disappointment. But he went away silently, and his mother pleaded for him. Don't be hard on the poor boy, Vincy. He'll turn out well yet, though that wicked man has deceived him. I feel as sure as I sit here, Fred will turn out well. Else 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 petishly. I tell you the lads an unlucky lad, Lucy. And you've always spoiled him. Well, with 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 husband, more mildly, however. But who has handsomer better children than ours? Fred is far beyond other people's sons. You may hear it in his speech that he has kept college company. And Rosamond, where is there a girl like her? She might stand beside any lady in the land and only look the better for it. You see, Mr. Lidgate 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 school fellow, Ms. Willoughby's. There are relations in that family quite as high as Mr. Lidgate's. Damn relations, said Mr. Vincy. I've had enough of them. I don't want a son-in-law's got nothing but his relations to recommend him. Why, my dear, said Mrs. Vincy, you seem as pleased as could be about it. It's true. I wasn't at home. But Rosamond told me you hadn't a word to say against the engagement, and she has begun to buy in the best linen and cambric for her under-clothing. 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's being ruined, and I don't believe Lidgate has got the farthing. I shan't give my consent to their marrying. Let them wait, as their elders have done before him. Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bear to cross her. Yes, I could. The sooner the engagement's off, the better. I don't believe he'll ever make an income the way he goes on. He makes enemies that's all I hear of his making. But he stands very high with Mr. Balstrood, my dear. The marriage would please him, I should think. Please the Jews, said Mr. Vincy. Balstrood won't pay for their keep. And if Lidgate thinks I'm going to give money for them to set up housekeeping, he's mistaken. That's all. I expect I shall have to put down my horses soon. You'd better tell Rosie what I say. This was not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincy, to be rash in jovial assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been rash to employ others in making the offensive retraction. 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 muscling 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 an affectionate difference? 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. Lidgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent, and I hope we shall have Mrs. Breton's 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 dumbest, Sandler's is the place far better than Hopkins. Mrs. Breton's is very large, though. I should love you to have such a house, but it will take a great deal of furniture, carpeting in everything, besides plate and glass. And you hear your papa says he will give no money. Do you think Mr. Lidgate expects it? You cannot imagine that I should ask him, am I? 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 dreadful. There's no pleasure in thinking of anything with that poor boy disappointed as he is. That has nothing to do with my marriage, mama. Fred must leave off being idle. I'm going upstairs to take this word to Miss Morgan. She dusts the open hemming very well. Mary Garth might do some work for me now, I should think. Her suing is exquisite. It is the nicest thing I know about Mary. I should so like to have all my cambrick-friiling double hemmed, and it takes a long time. Mrs. Vinz's belief that Rosamond could manage her papa was well founded. Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Vinz, 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 daughter's engagement. Namely, to inquire thoroughly into Litgate's circumstances, declare his own inability to furnish money, and forbid a like either a speedy marriage or an engagement which must be too lengthy. That seems very simple and easy in the statement, but a disagreeable result 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 thought and fatigue expression of opinion to which Mr. Vinz he was prone suffered much restraint in this case. Litgate was a proud man, towards whom innuendos were obviously unsafe and throwing his hat on the floor was out of the question. Mr. Vinz he was a little inave of him, a little vain that he wanted to marry Rosamund, 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. Vinz he preferred playing was that of the generous host whom nobody criticizes. 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, waste and general satisfaction, and in the meanwhile the hours were each leaving their little deposit and gradually forming the final reason for inaction, namely the action was too late. The accepted lover spent most of his evenings in Loic Gate, and a love-making not all dependent on money advances from fathers-in-law or prospective income from a profession went on flourishingly under Mr. Vinz's own eyes. Young love-making, that gossamer web, even the points it clings to, the things when it's subtle interlacing are swung, are 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, journeying so one life towards another, visions of completeness, indefinite trust, and Lidget fell to spinning that web from his inward self with wonderful rapidity, in spite of experience supposed to be finished off with a drama or lore, in spite too of medicine and biology, for the inspection of macerated muscle or eyes presented in a dish, like Santa Lucia's, and other incidents of scientific inquiry are observed to be less incompatible with poetic love than a native dullness or a lively addiction to the lowest prose. As for Rosamond, she was in the water Lily's expanding wonderment at its own full alive, 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. Fairbrother. The certainty that Miss Vincy and Mr. Lidget were engaged became general in Middlemarch without the aid of formal announcement. Aunt Bolstruud was again stirred to anxiety, but this time she addressed herself to her brother, going to the warehouse expressly to avoid Miss Vincy's volatility, his replies for not satisfactory. Walter, you never mean to tell me that you have allowed all this to go on without inquiry into Mr. Lidget's prospects, said Mr. Bolstruud, opening her eyes with wider gravity at a brother, who was in his peevish warehouse-humour. Think of this girl brought up in luxury, in too worldly a way, I am sorry to say. What 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 Lidget? Bolstruud has pushed him forward more than anybody. I'd 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. Bolstruud be to blame? I'm sure he did not wish for the engagement. Oh, if Bolstruud had not taken him by the hand, I should never have invited him. But you called him in to attend from Fred, and I'm sure that was Mercy, said Mrs. Bolstruud, losing her clue in the intricacies of the subject. I don't know about Mercy. Said Mr. Winsey, Testerly. I know I'm worried more than I like with my family. I was a good brother to you, Harriet, before you married Bolstruud. And I must say he doesn't always show that friendly spirit towards your family that might have been expected of him. Mr. Winsey 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 reason sparing between the brothers-in-law at a westerly meeting. Mrs. Bolstruud did not repeat her brother's complaints to her husband, but in the evening she spoke to him of Lidgate and Rosamond. He did not share her warm interest, however, and only spoke with the resignation of the risk attendant on the beginning of a medical practice and the desirability of prudence. I'm sure we are bound to pray for that thoughtless girl brought up as she has been, said Mrs. Bolstruud, wishing to arouse her husband's feelings. Truly, my dear, said Mr. Bolstruud, 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 brother's family. I could have wished that Mr. Lidgate had not entered into such a union, but my relations with him are limited to that use of his gifts for God's purposes, which is taught us by the divine government under each dispensation. Mrs. Bolstruud 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 Lidgate himself having been accepted, he was prepared to accept all the consequences which he believed himself to force you with perfect clearness. Of course, he must be married in a year, perhaps 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 had present occupied, and Lidgate having heard or someone speak with admiration of old Mrs. Breton's house, situated in Loic Gate, took notice when it fell vacant after the old lady's death, and immediately entered into a 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 for expense. His profession had familiarised 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 of, 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 way than he would have called an ordinary way, with green glasses for hawk, 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 dining-giving, and preference for armorial bearings, in our own case, link us indissolubly with the established order. And Lidget's 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 egwism, which I have already called commoness, and half from that naivety, which belonged to preoccupation with favorite ideas. Any inward debate Lidget had, as to the consequences of this engagement, which had stolen upon him, turned on the positive of time rather than of money. Certainly, being in love and being expected continually by someone 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. Fairbrother, one day that the wicker came to his room, with some pond products, which he wanted to examine under better microscope than his own, and finding Lidget's table full of apparatus and specimens in confusion, said sarcastically. Heroes has degenerated. He began by introducing order and harmony, and now he brings back chaos. Yes, at some stages, said Lidget, lifting his brows and smiling, while he began to arrange his microscope, but a better order will begin after. Soon, said the wicker, I hope so really, this unsettled state of affairs uses up 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, then, no teasing with personal speculations. He can get calmness and freedom. You are an enviable dog, said the wicker, to have such a prospect. Rosamond, calmness, and freedom, all to your share. Here am I with nothing but my pipe and pond animalcules. Now, are you ready? Lidget did not mention to the wicker another reason he had for wishing to shorten the period of courtship. It was rather irritating to him, even for the wine of love in his veins, to be obliged to mingle so often with the family party at the Vincis, and to enter so much into middle-march gossip, protracted, good chair, wist playing, and general futility. He had to be differential when Mr. Vincis decided questions with drenched ignorance, especially as to those liquors, which were the best inward pickle, preserving you from the effects of bad air. Mrs. Vincis of openness and simplicity were quite unstreak with suspicion as to the subtle offence she might give to the taste of her intended son-in-law. And altogether Lidget had to confess to himself that he was descending a little in relation to Rosamond's 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 open to the summer-sense 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 Lidgate, lying his hands tenderly on both of hers. Don't I see a tiny drop on one of the lashes? Things trouble you, and you don't tell me. That is unloving. Why should I tell you what you cannot alter? They are everyday things. Perhaps they have been a little worse lately. Family annoyances don't 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. Lidgate 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 Lidgate, with quick energy, almost angrily. I never give up anything that I choose to do, said Rosamond, recovering her calmness at the touching of his discord. God bless you, said Lidgate, 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 the 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 radiant 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 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 ready. Can it not? You will not mind about new clothes. Those can be bought afterwards. Oh, what original notions you clever men have, said Rosamond, dimpling with more thorough laughter than usual at his humors in congreguity. This is the first time I've ever heard of wedding clothes being bought after marriage. But you don't mean to say you would insist on my waiting months for the sake of clothes, said Lidgate, 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 this, being continually together independent of others and ordering our lives as we will. Come, dear, tell me how soon you can be all together mine. There was a serious pleading in Lidgate's 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 heusary, and pedicode tucking in order to give an answer that would at least be approximative. Six weeks should be ample, say so, Rosamond, insisted Lidgate, 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, Mama could see to those while we were away. Oh, 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 Goodwin Lidgate's, 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 pleasing though sober kind of rank when sustained by blood. She looked at her lover with some wandering 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'm sure they would be ample. I could certainly hasten the work, said Rosamond. Will you then mention it to Papa? Oh, I think it would be better to write to him. She blushed and looked at him, as the garden flowers looked at us when we walked 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 the deep colour? 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 Lidgate thought that after all his wild mistakes and absurd credulity he had found perfect womanhood, felt 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 labours, and would never interfere with them, who would create order in the home and accounts, was 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 hair-spread beyond docile, 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 Lidgate 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 Lidgate mentioned his purchase with some descriptive touches, or just what role she ought to have, I trust in heaven it won't be broken. Oh, one must hire servants who will not break things, said Lidgate. 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 Mama, who did not readily take views that were not cheerful, and being a happy wife herself had hardly any feeling but pride in her daughter's marriage. But Rosamond had good reasons for suggesting to Lidgate 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 all the way that Mr. Lidgate wished to be married soon. Nonsense, my dear, said Mr. Vincy. What has he got him married on? You'd much better give up the engagement. I've 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? It's a cruel thing for a father to see. Mr. Lidgate is not poor, Papa. He bought Mr. Peacock's practice, which they say is worth eight or nine hundred a year. Stuff and nonsense. What's buying a practice? He might as well buy next year's swallows. It's all a slip through his fingers. On the contrary, Papa, he will increase the practice. See how he has been called in by the Chathams and Cospons. I hope he knows I shan't give anything with this disappointment about Fred, and Parliament going to be dissolved and machine-breaking everywhere and 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 know, the countries in that state. Some say it's the end of the world, and be hanged if I don't think it looks like it. Anyhow, it's not a time for me to be drawing money out of my business, and I should wish Lidgate to know that. I'm sure he expects nothing, Papa, and he has such a very high connections. He's sure to rise in one way or another. He's engaged in making scientific discoveries. Mr. Vinci was silent. I cannot give up my only prospect of happiness, Papa. Mr. Lidgate is a gentleman. I could never love anyone who was not a perfect gentleman. You would not like me to go into a consumption, as a rabble I wholly did, and you know that I never changed 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. Vinci 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. Vinci's answer consisted chiefly in a demand that Lidgate should ensure his life. A demand immediately conceded. This was a delightful reassuring idea, supposing that Lidgate died, but in the meantime, not a self-supporting idea. However, it seemed to make everything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage, and the necessary purchases went on with much spirit. Not without prudential considerations, however. A bride who is going to visit a baronet's must have a few first-rate pocket handkerchiefs. But beyond absolutely necessary half-dustin, Rosamond contended herself without the very high style of embroidery and valensiness. Lidgate also, finding that his sum of 800 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 Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy forks and spoons. He was too proud to act as if he presupposed that Mr. Vinci 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 by. Lidgate foresaw that science and his profession were the object he should alone pursue enthusiastically, but he could not imagine himself pursuing them in such a home as Wrench had the doors all open, the oil cloth worn, the children in soiled pinafores, and lung lingering in the former boons, black handle knives, and willow pattern. But Wrench had a wretched lymphatic wife who made a mummy of herself indoors in large shawls, and he must have altogether begun with an ill-chosen domestic apparatus. Rosamund, 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 return. Which of your uncles do you like best? Oh, my uncle Goodwin, I think. He's a good-natured old fellow. You were constantly at his house at Cullingham 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're going to be married? No, said Lidgate carelessly, turning in his chair and rubbing his hair up. Oh, do send him word of it, you naughty undutiful nephew. He will perhaps ask you to take me to Cullingham 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. Lidgate 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 boars. It seemed magnificent to Rosamond to be able to speak so slightingly of a baronet's 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 Goodwin will not look down on Rosie. Mr. Lidgate, I should think he would do something handsome. A thousand or two can be nothing to a baronet. Mamma said Rosamond blushing deeply and Lidgate pitted her so much that she remained silent and went to the other end of the room to examine it 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 hybrid cousins who were boars should be induced to visit Middlemarch, they would see many things in her own family which might shock them. Hence it seemed a cyber that Lidgate should buy and buy get some first rate position elsewhere than in Middlemarch and this could hardly be difficult in the case of a man who had a tidal uncle and could make discoveries. Lidgate, you perceive, had talked fervently 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 would bring him the sweet furtherance of satisfying affection, beauty, repose, such a help as our thoughts get from the summery sky and the flower-refringed meadows. Lidgate relied much on the psychological differences between 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. End of chapter 36 of Middlemarch by George Eliot. Red by Lars Rolander