"The man is in a diseased state," he thought, "but there's a good dealof wear in him still. I suppose he is an object of charity to Bulstrode. It iscurious what patches of hardness and tenderness lie side by side inmen's dispositions. Bulstrode seems the most unsympathetic fellow I eversaw about some people, and yet he has taken no end of trouble, andspent a great deal of money, on benevolent objects. I suppose he hassome test by which he finds out whom Heaven cares for—he has madeup his mind that it doesn't care for me."
This streak of bitterness came from a plenteous source, and keptwidening in the current of his thought as he neared Lowick Gate. He hadnot been there since his first interview with Bulstrode in the morning,having been found at the Hospital by the banker's messenger; and for thefirst time he was returning to his home without the vision of anyexpedient in the background which left him a hope of raising moneyenough to deliver him from the coming destitution of everything whichmade his married life tolerable—everything which saved him andRosamond from that bare isolation in which they would be forced torecognize how little of a comfort they could be to each other. It was morebearable to do without tenderness for himself than to see that his owntenderness could make no amends for the lack of other things to her. Thesufferings of his own pride from humiliations past and to come werekeen enough, yet they were hardly distinguishable to himself from thatmore acute pain which dominated them—the pain of foreseeing thatRosamond would come to regard him chiefly as the cause ofdisappointment and unhappiness to her. He had never liked themakeshifts of poverty, and they had never before entered into hisprospects for himself; but he was beginning now to imagine how twocreatures who loved each other, and had a stock of thoughts in common,might laugh over their shabby furniture, and their calculations how farthey could afford butter and eggs. But the glimpse of that poetry seemedas far off from him as the carelessness of the golden age; in poorRosamond's mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look smallin. He got down from his horse in a very sad mood, and went into thehouse, not expecting to be cheered except by his dinner, and reflectingthat before the evening closed it would be wise to tell Rosamond of hisapplication to Bulstrode and its failure. It would be well not to lose timein preparing her for the worst.
But his dinner waited long for him before he was able to eat it. Foron entering he found that Dover's agent had already put a man in thehouse, and when he asked where Mrs. Lydgate was, he was told that shewas in her bedroom. He went up and found her stretched on the bedpale and silent, without an answer even in her face to any word or lookof his. He sat down by the bed and leaning over her said with almost acry of prayer—
"Forgive me for this misery, my poor Rosamond! Let us only love oneanother."
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. Thestrong man had had too much to bear that day. He let his head fallbeside hers and sobbed.
He did not hinder her from going to her father early in themorning—it seemed now that he ought not to hinder her from doing asshe pleased. In half an hour she came back, and said that papa andmamma wished her to go and stay with them while things were in thismiserable state. Papa said he could do nothing about the debt—if he paidthis, there would be half-a-dozen more. She had better come back homeagain 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 crisisimmediately. There is no hurry."
"I should not go till to-morrow," said Rosamond; "I shall want to packmy clothes."
"Oh, I would wait a little longer than to-morrow—there is noknowing what may happen," said Lydgate, with bitter irony. "I may getmy neck broken, and that may make things easier to you."
It was Lydgate's misfortune and Rosamond's too, that his tendernesstowards her, which was both an emotional prompting and a well-considered resolve, was inevitably interrupted by these outbursts ofindignation either ironical or remonstrant. She thought them totallyunwarranted, and the repulsion which this exceptional severity excited inher was in danger of making the more persistent tendernessunacceptable.
"I see you do not wish me to go," she said, with chill mildness; "whycan you not say so, without that kind of violence? I shall stay until yourequest me to do otherwise."
Lydgate said no more, but went out on his rounds. He felt bruisedand shattered, and there was a dark line under his eyes which Rosamondhad not seen before. She could not bear to look at him. Tertius had away 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."
Bulstrode's first object after Lydgate had left Stone Court was toexamine Raffles's pockets, which he imagined were sure to carry signs inthe shape of hotel-bills of the places he had stopped in, if he had not toldthe truth in saying that he had come straight from Liverpool because hewas ill and had no money. There were various bills crammed into hispocketbook, but none of a later date than Christmas at any other place,except one, which bore date that morning. This was crumpled up with ahand-bill about a horse-fair in one of his tail-pockets, and representedthe cost of three days' stay at an inn at Bilkley, where the fair was held—a town at least forty miles from Middlemarch. The bill was heavy, andsince Raffles had no luggage with him, it seemed probable that he hadleft his portmanteau behind in payment, in order to save money for histravelling fare; for his purse was empty, and he had only a couple ofsixpences and some loose pence in his pockets.
Bulstrode gathered a sense of safety from these indications thatRaffles had really kept at a distance from Middlemarch since hismemorable visit at Christmas. At a distance and among people who werestrangers to Bulstrode, what satisfaction could there be to Raffles'stormenting, self-magnifying vein in telling old scandalous stories about aMiddlemarch banker? And what harm if he did talk? The chief pointnow was to keep watch over him as long as there was any danger of thatintelligible raving, that unaccountable impulse to tell, which seemed tohave acted towards Caleb Garth; and Bulstrode felt much anxiety lestsome such impulse should come over him at the sight of Lydgate. He satup alone with him through the night, only ordering the housekeeper tolie down in her clothes, so as to be ready when he called her, alleging hisown indisposition to sleep, and his anxiety to carry out the doctor'sorders. He did carry them out faithfully, although Raffles was incessantlyasking for brandy, and declaring that he was sinking away—that theearth was sinking away from under him. He was restless and sleepless,but still quailing and manageable. On the offer of the food ordered byLydgate, which he refused, and the denial of other things which hedemanded, he seemed to concentrate all his terror on Bulstrode,imploringly deprecating his anger, his revenge on him by starvation, anddeclaring with strong oaths that he had never told any mortal a wordagainst him. Even this Bulstrode felt that he would not have likedLydgate to hear; but a more alarming sign of fitful alternation in hisdelirium was, that in-the morning twilight Raffles suddenly seemed toimagine a doctor present, addressing him and declaring that Bulstrodewanted to starve him to death out of revenge for telling, when he neverhad told.
Bulstrode's native imperiousness and strength of determinationserved him well. This delicate-looking man, himself nervously perturbed,found the needed stimulus in his strenuous circumstances, and throughthat difficult night and morning, while he had the air of an animatedcorpse returned to movement without warmth, holding the mastery by itschill impassibility his mind was intensely at work thinking of what hehad to guard against and what would win him security. Whatever prayershe might lift up, whatever statements he might inwardly make of thisman's wretched spiritual condition, and the duty he himself was under tosubmit to the punishment divinely appointed for him rather than to wishfor evil to another—through all this effort to condense words into a solidmental state, there pierced and spread with irresistible vividness theimages of the events he desired. And in the train of those images cametheir apology. He could not but see the death of Raffles, and see in it hisown deliverance. What was the removal of this wretched creature? Hewas impenitent—but were not public criminals impenitent?—yet the lawdecided on their fate. Should Providence in this case award death, therewas no sin in contemplating death as the desirable issue—if he kept hishands from hastening it—if he scrupulously did what was prescribed.Even here there might be a mistake: human prescriptions were falliblethings: Lydgate had said that treatment had hastened death,—why nothis own method of treatment? But of course intention was everything inthe question of right and wrong.
And Bulstrode set himself to keep his intention separate from hisdesire. He inwardly declared that he intended to obey orders. Whyshould he have got into any argument about the validity of these orders?It was only the common trick of desire—which avails itself of anyirrelevant scepticism, finding larger room for itself in all uncertaintyabout effects, in every obscurity that looks like the absence of law. Still,he did obey the orders.
His anxieties continually glanced towards Lydgate, and hisremembrance of what had taken place between them the morning beforewas accompanied with sensibilities which had not been roused at allduring the actual scene. He had then cared but little about Lydgate'spainful impressions with regard to the suggested change in the Hospital,or about the disposition towards himself which what he held to be hisjustifiable refusal of a rather exorbitant request might call forth. Herecurred to the scene now with a perception that he had probably madeLydgate his enemy, and with an awakened desire to propitiate him, orrather to create in him a strong sense of personal obligation. He regrettedthat he had not at once made even an unreasonable money-sacrifice. Forin case of unpleasant suspicions, or even knowledge gathered from theraving of Raffles, Bulstrode would have felt that he had a defence inLydgate's mind by having conferred a momentous benefit on him. But theregret had perhaps come too late.
Strange, piteous conflict in the soul of this unhappy man, who hadlonged for years to be better than he was—who had taken his selfishpassions into discipline and clad them in severe robes, so that he hadwalked with them as a devout choir, till now that a terror had risenamong them, and they could chant no longer, but threw out theircommon cries for safety.
It was nearly the middle of the day before Lydgate arrived: he hadmeant to come earlier, but had been detained, he said; and his shatteredlooks were noticed by Balstrode. But he immediately threw himself intothe consideration of the patient, and inquired strictly into all that hadoccurred. Raffles was worse, would take hardly any food, waspersistently wakeful and restlessly raving; but still not violent. Contraryto Bulstrode's alarmed expectation, he took little notice of Lydgate'spresence, 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 hereyourself?" said Lydgate, looking at Bulstrode with an abrupt question,which made him uneasy, though in reality it was not due to anysuspicious conjecture.
"Yes, I think so," said Bulstrode, governing himself and speakingwith deliberation. "Mrs. Bulstrode is advised of the reasons which detainme. Mrs. Abel and her husband are not experienced enough to be leftquite alone, and this kind of responsibility is scarcely included in theirservice of me. You have some fresh instructions, I presume."
The chief new instruction that Lydgate had to give was on theadministration of extremely moderate doses of opium, in case of thesleeplessness continuing after several hours. He had taken the precautionof bringing opium in his pocket, and he gave minute directions toBulstrode as to the doses, and the point at which they should cease. Heinsisted on the risk of not ceasing; and repeated his order that no alcoholshould be given.
"From what I see of the case," he ended, "narcotism is the only thingI should be much afraid of. He may wear through even without muchfood. There's a good deal of strength in him."
"You look ill yourself, Mr. Lydgate—a most unusual, I may sayunprecedented thing in my knowledge of you," said Bulstrode, showing asolicitude as unlike his indifference the day before, as his presentrecklessness about his own fatigue was unlike his habitual self-cherishinganxiety. "I fear you are harassed."
"Yes, I am," said Lydgate, brusquely, holding his hat, and ready togo.
"Something new, I fear," said Bulstrode, inquiringly. "Pray be seated."
"No, thank you," said Lydgate, with some hauteur. "I mentioned toyou 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 goodmorning."
"Stay, Mr. Lydgate, stay," said Bulstrode; "I have been reconsideringthis subject. I was yesterday taken by surprise, and saw it superficially.Mrs. Bulstrode is anxious for her niece, and I myself should grieve at acalamitous change in your position. Claims on me are numerous, but onreconsideration, I esteem it right that I should incur a small sacrificerather than leave you unaided. You said, I think, that a thousand poundswould suffice entirely to free you from your burthens, and enable you torecover a firm stand?"
"Yes," said Lydgate, a great leap of joy within him surmounting everyother feeling; "that would pay all my debts, and leave me a little onhand. I could set about economizing in our way of living. And by-and-bymy practice might look up."
"If you will wait a moment, Mr. Lydgate, I will draw a cheek to thatamount. I am aware that help, to be effectual in these cases, should bethorough."
