Lydgate could not be long in Middlemarch without having thatagreeable vision, or even without making the acquaintance of the Vincyfamily; for though Mr. Peacock, whose practice he had paid something toenter on, had not been their doctor (Mrs. Vincy not liking the loweringsystem adopted by him), he had many patients among their connectionsand acquaintances. For who of any consequence in Middlemarch was notconnected or at least acquainted with the Vincys? They were oldmanufacturers, and had kept a good house for three generations, inwhich there had naturally been much intermarrying with neighbors moreor less decidedly genteel. Mr. Vincy's sister had made a wealthy match inaccepting Mr. Bulstrode, who, however, as a man not born in the town,and altogether of dimly known origin, was considered to have done wellin uniting himself with a real Middlemarch family; on the other hand,Mr. Vincy had descended a little, having taken an innkeeper's daughter.But on this side too there was a cheering sense of money; for Mrs.Vincy's sister had been second wife to rich old Mr. Featherstone, andhad died childless years ago, so that her nephews and nieces might besupposed to touch the affections of the widower. And it happened thatMr. Bulstrode and Mr. Featherstone, two of Peacock's most importantpatients, had, from different causes, given an especially good receptionto his successor, who had raised some partisanship as well as discussion.Mr. Wrench, medical attendant to the Vincy family, very early hadgrounds for thinking lightly of Lydgate's professional discretion, andthere was no report about him which was not retailed at the Vincys',where visitors were frequent. Mr. Vincy was more inclined to generalgood-fellowship than to taking sides, but there was no need for him to behasty in making any new man acquaintance. Rosamond silently wishedthat her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. She was tired of the faces andfigures she had always been used to—the various irregular profiles andgaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young menwhom she had known as boys. She had been at school with girls ofhigher position, whose brothers, she felt sure, it would have beenpossible for her to be more interested in, than in these inevitableMiddlemarch companions. But she would not have chosen to mentionher wish to her father; and he, for his part, was in no hurry on thesubject. An alderman about to be mayor must by-and-by enlarge hisdinner-parties, but at present there were plenty of guests at his well-spread table.
That table often remained covered with the relics of the familybreakfast long after Mr. Vincy had gone with his second son to thewarehouse, and when Miss Morgan was already far on in morninglessons with the younger girls in the schoolroom. It awaited the familylaggard, who found any sort of inconvenience (to others) lessdisagreeable than getting up when he was called. This was the case onemorning of the October in which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubonvisiting the Grange; and though the room was a little overheated withthe fire, which had sent the spaniel panting to a remote corner,Rosamond, for some reason, continued to sit at her embroidery longerthan usual, now and then giving herself a little shake, and laying herwork on her knee to contemplate it with an air of hesitating weariness.Her mamma, who had returned from an excursion to the kitchen, sat onthe other side of the small work-table with an air of more entireplacidity, until, the clock again giving notice that it was going to strike,she looked up from the lace-mending which was occupying her plumpfingers and rang the bell.
"Knock at Mr. Fred's door again, Pritchard, and tell him it has struckhalf-past ten."
This was said without any change in the radiant good-humor of Mrs.Vincy's face, in which forty-five years had delved neither angles norparallels; and pushing back her pink capstrings, she let her work rest onher lap, while she looked admiringly at her daughter.
"Mamma," said Rosamond, "when Fred comes down I wish youwould not let him have red herrings. I cannot bear the smell of them allover the house at this hour of the morning."
"Oh, my dear, you are so hard on your brothers! It is the only fault Ihave to find with you. You are the sweetest temper in the world, but youare so tetchy with your brothers."
"Not tetchy, mamma: you never hear me speak in an unladylikeway."
"Well, but you want to deny them things."
"Brothers are so unpleasant."
"Oh, my dear, you must allow for young men. Be thankful if theyhave good hearts. A woman must learn to put up with little things. Youwill be married some day."
"Not to any one who is like Fred."
"Don't decry your own brother, my dear. Few young men have lessagainst them, although he couldn't take his degree—I'm sure I can'tunderstand why, for he seems to me most clever. And you know yourselfhe was thought equal to the best society at college. So particular as youare, my dear, I wonder you are not glad to have such a gentlemanlyyoung man for a brother. You are always finding fault with Bob becausehe is not Fred."
"Oh no, mamma, only because he is Bob."
"Well, my dear, you will not find any Middlemarch young man whohas not something against him."
"But"—here Rosamond's face broke into a smile which suddenlyrevealed two dimples. She herself thought unfavorably of these dimplesand smiled little in general society. "But I shall not marry anyMiddlemarch young man."
"So it seems, my love, for you have as good as refused the pick ofthem; and if there's better to be had, I'm sure there's no girl betterdeserves it."
"Excuse me, mamma—I 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 Isay?"
"The best of them."
"Why, that seems just as plain and common. If I had had time tothink, I should have said, 'the most superior young men.' But with youreducation you must know."
"What must Rosy know, mother?" said Mr. Fred, who had slid inunobserved through the half-open door while the ladies were bendingover their work, and now going up to the fire stood with his backtowards it, warming the soles of his slippers.
"Whether it's right to say 'superior young men,'" said Mrs. Vincy,ringing the bell.
"Oh, there are so many superior teas and sugars now. Superior isgetting to be shopkeepers' slang."
"Are you beginning to dislike slang, then?" said Rosamond, with mildgravity.
"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 writehistory 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 don't know Homer from slang. I shall invent anew game; I shall write bits of slang and poetry on slips, and give themto 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, tothe servant who brought in coffee and buttered toast; while he walkedround the table surveying the ham, potted beef, and other coldremnants, with an air of silent rejection, and polite forbearance fromsigns 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 downearlier. You can get up at six o'clock to go out hunting; I cannotunderstand 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 huntingbecause I like it."
"What would you think of me if I came down two hours after everyone 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, anymore than sisters."
"I don't 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 withcertain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Lemon's school.Look at my mother you don't see her objecting to everything except whatshe does herself. She is my notion of a pleasant woman."
"Bless you both, my dears, and don't quarrel," said Mrs. Vincy, withmotherly cordiality. "Come, Fred, tell us all about the new doctor. How isyour uncle pleased with him?"
"Pretty well, I think. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and thenscrews up his face while he hears the answers, as if they were pinchinghis toes. That's his way. Ah, here comes my grilled bone."
"But how came you to stay out so late, my dear? You only said youwere going to your uncle's."
"Oh, I dined at Plymdale's. 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 family—his relations quite county people."
"Yes," said Fred. "There was a Lydgate at John's who spent no end ofmoney. I find this man is a second cousin of his. But rich men may havevery poor devils for second cousins."
"It always makes a difference, though, to be of good family," saidRosamond, with a tone of decision which showed that she had thoughton this subject. Rosamond felt that she might have been happier if shehad not been the daughter of a Middlemarch manufacturer. She dislikedanything which reminded her that her mother's father had been aninnkeeper. 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-facedmatron, "but of course it's a name in the family. But now, tell us exactlywhat sort of man he is."
"Oh, tallish, dark, clever—talks well—rather 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. "Whatare they there for else?"
"Yes, mother, the opinions they are paid for. But a prig is a fellowwho is always making you a present of his opinions."
"I suppose Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate," said Rosamond, notwithout a touch of innuendo.
"Really, I can't say." said Fred, rather glumly, as he left the table, andtaking up a novel which he had brought down with him, threw himselfinto an arm-chair. "If you are jealous of her, go oftener to Stone Courtyourself and eclipse her."
"I wish you would not be so vulgar, Fred. If you have finished, prayring the bell."
"It is true, though—what your brother says, Rosamond," Mrs. Vincybegan, when the servant had cleared the table. "It is a thousand pitiesyou haven't patience to go and see your uncle more, so proud of you ashe is, and wanted you to live with him. There's no knowing what hemight have done for you as well as for Fred. God knows, I'm fond ofhaving you at home with me, but I can part with my children for theirgood. And now it stands to reason that your uncle Featherstone will dosomething for Mary Garth."
"Mary Garth can bear being at Stone Court, because she likes thatbetter than being a governess," said Rosamond, folding up her work. "Iwould rather not have anything left to me if I must earn it by enduringmuch of my uncle's cough and his ugly relations."
"He can't be long for this world, my dear; I wouldn't hasten his end,but what with asthma and that inward complaint, let us hope there issomething better for him in another. And I have no ill-will toward's MaryGarth, but there's justice to be thought of. And Mr. Featherstone's firstwife brought him no money, as my sister did. Her nieces and nephewscan't have so much claim as my sister's. And I must say I think MaryGarth a dreadful plain girl—more fit for a governess."
"Every one would not agree with you there, mother," said Fred, whoseemed to be able to read and listen too.
"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, "if she had somefortune left her,—a man marries his wife's relations, and the Garths areso poor, and live in such a small way. But I shall leave you to yourstudies, my dear; for I must go and do some shopping."
"Fred's studies are not very deep," said Rosamond, rising with hermamma, "he is only reading a novel."
"Well, well, by-and-by he'll go to his Latin and things," said Mrs.Vincy, soothingly, stroking her son's head. "There's a fire in the smoking-room on purpose. It's your father's wish, you know—Fred, my dear—andI always tell him you will be good, and go to college again to take yourdegree."
Fred drew his mother's 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 StoneCourt, 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, "ifyou are going to the piano, let me come and play some airs with you."
