Mr. Featherstone was still applauding the last performance, andassuring missy that her voice was as clear as a blackbird's, when Mr.Lydgate's horse passed the window.
His dull expectation of the usual disagreeable routine with an agedpatient—who can hardly believe that medicine would not "set him up" ifthe doctor were only clever enough—added to his general disbelief inMiddlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this visionof Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously tointroduce as his niece, though he had never thought it worth while tospeak of Mary Garth in that light. Nothing escaped Lydgate inRosamond's graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the noticewhich the old man's want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet gravity,not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing themafterwards in speaking to Mary, to whom she addressed herself with somuch good-natured interest, that Lydgate, after quickly examining Marymore fully than he had done before, saw an adorable kindness inRosamond's eyes. But Mary from some cause looked rather out oftemper.
"Miss Rosy has been singing me a song—you've nothing to sayagainst that, eh, doctor?" said Mr. Featherstone. "I like it better thanyour 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 thather flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above-herriding-habit. "Fred, we must really go."
"Very good," said Fred, who had his own reasons for not being in thebest 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 consciousnessthat she was being looked at. She was by nature an actress of parts thatentered into her physique: she even acted her own character, and sowell, that she did not know it to be precisely her own.)
"The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound," said Mr. Featherstone, "letthe next be who she will. Eh, Fred? Speak up for your sister."
"I'm afraid I'm out of court, sir. My evidence would be good fornothing."
"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 beforeshe 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 peculiarmeeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a suddendivine 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 heruncle was talking of when she went to shake hands with him.
Yet this result, which she took to be a mutual impression, calledfalling in love, was just what Rosamond had contemplated beforehand.Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven alittle future, of which something like this scene was the necessarybeginning. Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or dulyescorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had acircumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native merithas urged itself in vain. And a stranger was absolutely necessary toRosamond's social romance, which had always turned on a lover andbridegroom who was not a Middlemarcher, and who had no connectionsat all like her own: of late, indeed, the construction seemed to demandthat he should somehow be related to a baronet. Now that she and thestranger 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 sheheld it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate should have fallen in love atfirst sight of her. These things happened so often at balls, and why notby the morning light, when the complexion showed all the better for it?Rosamond, though no older than Mary, was rather used to being fallenin love with; but she, for her part, had remained indifferent andfastidiously critical towards both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. Andhere was Mr. Lydgate suddenly corresponding to her ideal, beingaltogether foreign to Middlemarch, carrying a certain air of distinctioncongruous with good family, and possessing connections which offeredvistas of that middle-class heaven, rank; a man of talent, also, whom itwould be especially delightful to enslave: in fact, a man who had touchedher nature quite newly, and brought a vivid interest into her life whichwas better than any fancied "might-be" such as she was in the habit ofopposing to the actual.
Thus, in riding home, both the brother and the sister werepreoccupied and inclined to be silent. Rosamond, whose basis for herstructure had the usual airy slightness, was of remarkably detailed andrealistic imagination when the foundation had been once presupposed;and before they had ridden a mile she was far on in the costume andintroductions of her wedded life, having determined on her house inMiddle-march, and foreseen the visits she would pay to her husband'shigh-bred relatives at a distance, whose finished manners she couldappropriate as thoroughly as she had done her school accomplishments,preparing herself thus for vaguer elevations which might ultimatelycome. There was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: shecared about what were considered refinements, and not about the moneythat was to pay for them.
Fred's mind, on the other hand, was busy with an anxiety whicheven his ready hopefulness could not immediately quell. He saw no wayof eluding Featherstone's stupid demand without incurring consequenceswhich he liked less even than the task of fulfilling it. His father wasalready out of humor with him, and would be still more so if he were theoccasion of any additional coolness between his own family and theBulstrodes. Then, he himself hated having to go and speak to his uncleBulstrode, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolishthings about Featherstone's property, and these had been magnified byreport. Fred felt that he made a wretched figure as a fellow who braggedabout expectations from a queer old miser like Featherstone, and went tobeg for certificates at his bidding. But—those expectations! He really hadthem, and he saw no agreeable alternative if he gave them up; besides,he had lately made a debt which galled him extremely, and oldFeatherstone had almost bargained to pay it off. The whole affair wasmiserably small: his debts were small, even his expectations were notanything so very magnificent. Fred had known men to whom he wouldhave been ashamed of confessing the smallness of his scrapes. Suchruminations naturally produced a streak of misanthropic bitterness. Tobe born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir tonothing in particular, while such men as Mainwaring and Vyan—certainly life was a poor business, when a spirited young fellow, with agood appetite for the best of everything, had so poor an outlook.
It had not occurred to Fred that the introduction of Bulstrode's namein the matter was a fiction of old Featherstone's; nor could this havemade any difference to his position. He saw plainly enough that the oldman wanted to exercise his power by tormenting him a little, and alsoprobably to get some satisfaction out of seeing him on unpleasant termswith Bulstrode. Fred fancied that he saw to the bottom of his uncleFeatherstone's soul, though in reality half what he saw there was nomore than the reflex of his own inclinations. The difficult task ofknowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness ischiefly made up of their own wishes.
Fred's main point of debate with himself was, whether he should tellhis father, or try to get through the affair without his father's knowledge.It was probably Mrs. Waule who had been talking about him; and ifMary Garth had repeated Mrs. Waule's report to Rosamond, it would besure to reach his father, who would as surely question him about it. Hesaid to Rosamond, as they slackened their pace—
"Rosy, did Mary tell you that Mrs. Waule had said anything aboutme?"
"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 tobe ashamed."
"Oh, fudge! Don't 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 neverknow."
"At least, Fred, let me advise you not to fall in love with her, for shesays 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 affairas simply as possible to his father, who might perhaps take on himselfthe unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode.
BOOK II. OLD AND YOUNG.
CHAPTER XIII.
1st Gent. How class your man?—as better than the most,
Or, seeming better, worse beneath that cloak?
As saint or knave, pilgrim or hypocrite?
2d 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. Vincydetermined to speak with Mr. Bulstrode in his private room at the Bankat half-past one, when he was usually free from other callers. But avisitor had come in at one o'clock, and Mr. Bulstrode had so much to sayto him, that there was little chance of the interview being over in half anhour. The banker's speech was fluent, but it was also copious, and heused up an appreciable amount of time in brief meditative pauses. Donot imagine his sickly aspect to have been of the yellow, black-hairedsort: he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, light-gray eyes, and a large forehead. Loud men called his subdued tone anundertone, and sometimes implied that it was inconsistent withopenness; though there seems to be no reason why a loud man shouldnot be given to concealment of anything except his own voice, unless itcan 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 anapparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those persons whothought themselves worth hearing infer that he was seeking the utmostimprovement from their discourse. Others, who expected to make nogreat figure, disliked this kind of moral lantern turned on them. If youare not proud of your cellar, there is no thrill of satisfaction in seeingyour guest hold up his wine-glass to the light and look judicial. Such joysare reserved for conscious merit. Hence Mr. Bulstrode's close attentionwas not agreeable to the publicans and sinners in Middlemarch; it wasattributed by some to his being a Pharisee, and by others to his beingEvangelical. Less superficial reasoners among them wished to know whohis father and grandfather were, observing that five-and-twenty years agonobody had ever heard of a Bulstrode in Middlemarch. To his presentvisitor, Lydgate, the scrutinizing look was a matter of indifference: hesimply formed an unfavorable opinion of the banker's constitution, andconcluded that he had an eager inward life with little enjoyment oftangible things.
"I shall be exceedingly obliged if you will look in on me hereoccasionally, Mr. Lydgate," the banker observed, after a brief pause. "If,as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutorin the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be manyquestions which we shall need to discuss in private. As to the newhospital, which is nearly finished, I shall consider what you have saidabout the advantages of the special destination for fevers. The decisionwill rest with me, for though Lord Medlicote has given the land andtimber for the building, he is not disposed to give his personal attentionto the object."
"There are few things better worth the pains in a provincial town likethis," said Lydgate. "A fine fever hospital in addition to the old infirmarymight be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get ourmedical reforms; and what would do more for medical education thanthe spread of such schools over the country? A born provincial man whohas a grain of public spirit as well as a few ideas, should do what he canto resist the rush of everything that is a little better than commontowards London. Any valid professional aims may often find a freer, ifnot a richer field, in the provinces."
One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yetcapable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. About hisordinary bearing there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation ofsuccess, a confidence in his own powers and integrity much fortified bycontempt for petty obstacles or seductions of which he had had noexperience. But this proud openness was made lovable by an expressionof unaffected good-will. Mr. Bulstrode perhaps liked him the better forthe difference between them in pitch and manners; he certainly liked himthe better, as Rosamond did, for being a stranger in Middlemarch. Onecan begin so many things with a new person!—even begin to be a betterman.
"I shall rejoice to furnish your zeal with fuller opportunities," Mr.Bulstrode answered; "I mean, by confiding to you the superintendence ofmy new hospital, should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I amdetermined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our twophysicians. Indeed, I am encouraged to consider your advent to thistown as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to beawarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much with stood. Withregard to the old infirmary, we have gained the initial point—I meanyour election. And now I hope you will not shrink from incurring acertain amount of jealousy and dislike from your professional brethrenby presenting yourself as a reformer."
