"Selina, what do you mean?" said Mrs. Bulstrode, in genuinesurprise.
"Not but what I am truly thankful for Ned's sake," said Mrs.Plymdale. "He could certainly better afford to keep such a wife thansome people can; but I should wish him to look elsewhere. Still a motherhas anxieties, and some young men would take to a bad life inconsequence. Besides, if I was obliged to speak, I should say I was notfond of strangers coming into a town."
"I don't know, Selina," said Mrs. Bulstrode, with a little emphasis inher turn. "Mr. Bulstrode was a stranger here at one time. Abraham andMoses were strangers in the land, and we are told to entertain strangers.And especially," she added, after a slight pause, "when they areunexceptionable."
"I was not speaking in a religious sense, Harriet. I spoke as amother."
"Selina, I am sure you have never heard me say anything against aniece of mine marrying your son."
"Oh, it is pride in Miss Vincy—I am sure it is nothing else," said Mrs.Plymdale, who had never before given all her confidence to "Harriet" onthis subject. "No young man in Middlemarch was good enough for her: Ihave heard her mother say as much. That is not a Christian spirit, Ithink. But now, from all I hear, she has found a man as proud asherself."
"You don't mean that there is anything between Rosamond and Mr.Lydgate?" said Mrs. Bulstrode, rather mortified at finding out her ownignorance.
"Is it possible you don't know, Harriet?"
"Oh, I go about so little; and I am not fond of gossip; I really neverhear any. You see so many people that I don't see. Your circle is ratherdifferent from ours."
"Well, but your own niece and Mr. Bulstrode's great favorite—andyours too, I am sure, Harriet! I thought, at one time, you meant him forKate, when she is a little older."
"I don't believe there can be anything serious at present," said Mrs.Bulstrode. "My brother would certainly have told me."
"Well, people have different ways, but I understand that nobody cansee Miss Vincy and Mr. Lydgate together without taking them to beengaged. However, it is not my business. Shall I put up the pattern ofmittens?"
After this Mrs. Bulstrode drove to her niece with a mind newlyweighted. She was herself handsomely dressed, but she noticed with alittle more regret than usual that Rosamond, who was just come in andmet her in walking-dress, was almost as expensively equipped. Mrs.Bulstrode was a feminine smaller edition of her brother, and had none ofher husband's low-toned pallor. She had a good honest glance and usedno circumlocution.
"You are alone, I see, my dear," she said, as they entered thedrawing-room together, looking round gravely. Rosamond felt sure thather aunt had something particular to say, and they sat down near eachother. Nevertheless, the quilling inside Rosamond's bonnet was socharming that it was impossible not to desire the same kind of thing forKate, and Mrs. Bulstrode's eyes, which were rather fine, rolled roundthat ample quilled circuit, while she spoke.
"I have just heard something about you that has surprised me verymuch, Rosamond."
"What is that, aunt?" Rosamond's eyes also were roaming over heraunt's large embroidered collar.
"I can hardly believe it—that you should be engaged without myknowing it—without your father's telling me." Here Mrs. Bulstrode's eyesfinally rested on Rosamond's, who blushed deeply, and said—
"I am not engaged, aunt."
"How is it that every one says so, then—that it is the town's talk?"
"The town's talk is of very little consequence, I think," saidRosamond, inwardly gratified.
"Oh, my dear, be more thoughtful; don't despise your neighbors so.Remember you are turned twenty-two now, and you will have nofortune: your father, I am sure, will not be able to spare you anything.Mr. Lydgate is very intellectual and clever; I know there is an attractionin that. I like talking to such men myself; and your uncle finds him veryuseful. But the profession is a poor one here. To be sure, this life is noteverything; but it is seldom a medical man has true religious views—there is too much pride of intellect. And you are not fit to marry a poorman.
"Mr. Lydgate is not a poor man, aunt. He has very high connections."
"He told me himself he was poor."
"That is because he is used to people who have a high style
"My dear Rosamond, you must not think of living in high style."
Rosamond looked down and played with her reticule. She was not afiery young lady and had no sharp answers, but she meant to live as shepleased.
"Then it is really true?" said Mrs. Bulstrode, looking very earnestly ather niece. "You are thinking of Mr. Lydgate—there is someunderstanding between you, though your father doesn't know. Be open,my dear Rosamond: Mr. Lydgate has really made you an offer?"
Poor Rosamond's feelings were very unpleasant. She had been quiteeasy as to Lydgate's feeling and intention, but now when her aunt putthis question she did not like being unable to say Yes. Her pride washurt, but her habitual control of manner helped her.
"Pray excuse me, aunt. I would rather not speak on the subject."
"You would not give your heart to a man without a decided prospect,I trust, my dear. And think of the two excellent offers I know of that youhave refused!—and one still within your reach, if you will not throw itaway. I knew a very great beauty who married badly at last, by doing so.Mr. Ned Plymdale is a nice young man—some might think good-looking;and an only son; and a large business of that kind is better than aprofession. Not that marrying is everything. I would have you seek firstthe kingdom of God. But a girl should keep her heart within her ownpower."
"I should never give it to Mr. Ned Plymdale, if it were. I have alreadyrefused him. If I loved, I should love at once and without change," saidRosamond, with a great sense of being a romantic heroine, and playingthe part prettily.
"I see how it is, my dear," said Mrs. Bulstrode, in a melancholyvoice, rising to go. "You have allowed your affections to be engagedwithout return."
"No, indeed, aunt," said Rosamond, with emphasis.
"Then you are quite confident that Mr. Lydgate has a seriousattachment to you?"
Rosamond's cheeks by this time were persistently burning, and shefelt much mortification. She chose to be silent, and her aunt went awayall the more convinced.
Mr. Bulstrode in things worldly and indifferent was disposed to dowhat his wife bade him, and she now, without telling her reasons,desired him on the next opportunity to find out in conversation with Mr.Lydgate whether he had any intention of marrying soon. The result was adecided negative. Mr. Bulstrode, on being cross-questioned, showed thatLydgate had spoken as no man would who had any attachment thatcould issue in matrimony. Mrs. Bulstrode now felt that she had a seriousduty before her, and she soon managed to arrange a tete-a-tete withLydgate, in which she passed from inquiries about Fred Vincy's health,and expressions of her sincere anxiety for her brother's large family, togeneral remarks on the dangers which lay before young people withregard to their settlement in life. Young men were often wild anddisappointing, making little return for the money spent on them, and agirl was exposed to many circumstances which might interfere with herprospects.
"Especially when she has great attractions, and her parents see muchcompany," said Mrs. Bulstrode "Gentlemen pay her attention, andengross her all to themselves, for the mere pleasure of the moment, andthat drives off others. I think it is a heavy responsibility, Mr. Lydgate, tointerfere with the prospects of any girl." Here Mrs. Bulstrode fixed hereyes on him, with an unmistakable purpose of warning, if not of rebuke.
"Clearly," said Lydgate, looking at her—perhaps even staring a littlein return. "On the other hand, a man must be a great coxcomb to goabout with a notion that he must not pay attention to a young lady lestshe should fall in love with him, or lest others should think she must."
"Oh, Mr. Lydgate, you know well what your advantages are. Youknow that our young men here cannot cope with you. Where youfrequent a house it may militate very much against a girl's making adesirable settlement in life, and prevent her from accepting offers even ifthey are made."
Lydgate was less flattered by his advantage over the MiddlemarchOrlandos than he was annoyed by the perception of Mrs. Bulstrode'smeaning. She felt that she had spoken as impressively as it wasnecessary to do, and that in using the superior word "militate" she hadthrown a noble drapery over a mass of particulars which were stillevident enough.
Lydgate was fuming a little, pushed his hair back with one hand, feltcuriously in his waistcoat-pocket with the other, and then stooped tobeckon the tiny black spaniel, which had the insight to decline hishollow caresses. It would not have been decent to go away, because hehad been dining with other guests, and had just taken tea. But Mrs.Bulstrode, having no doubt that she had been understood, turned theconversation.
Solomon's Proverbs, I think, have omitted to say, that as the sorepalate findeth grit, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes. Thenext day Mr. Farebrother, parting from Lydgate in the street, supposedthat they should meet at Vincy's in the evening. Lydgate answered curtly,no—he had work to do—he must give up going out in the evening.
"What! you are going to get lashed to the mast, eh, and are stoppingyour ears?" said the Vicar. "Well, if you don't mean to be won by thesirens, you are right to take precautions in time."
A few days before, Lydgate would have taken no notice of thesewords as anything more than the Vicar's usual way of putting things.They seemed now to convey an innuendo which confirmed theimpression that he had been making a fool of himself and behaving so asto be misunderstood: not, he believed, by Rosamond herself; she, he feltsure, took everything as lightly as he intended it. She had an exquisitetact and insight in relation to all points of manners; but the people shelived among were blunderers and busybodies. However, the mistakeshould go no farther. He resolved—and kept his resolution—that hewould not go to Mr. Vincy's except on business.
Rosamond became very unhappy. The uneasiness first stirred by heraunt's questions grew and grew till at the end of ten days that she hadnot seen Lydgate, it grew into terror at the blank that might possiblycome—into foreboding of that ready, fatal sponge which so cheaplywipes out the hopes of mortals. The world would have a new drearinessfor her, as a wilderness that a magician's spells had turned for a littlewhile into a garden. She felt that she was beginning to know the pang ofdisappointed love, and that no other man could be the occasion of suchdelightful aerial building as she had been enjoying for the last sixmonths. Poor Rosamond lost her appetite and felt as forlorn as Ariadne—as a charming stage Ariadne left behind with all her boxes full ofcostumes and no hope of a coach.
There are many wonderful mixtures in the world which are all alikecalled love, and claim the privileges of a sublime rage which is anapology for everything (in literature and the drama). Happily Rosamonddid not think of committing any desperate act: she plaited her fair hairas beautifully as usual, and kept herself proudly calm. Her most cheerfulsupposition was that her aunt Bulstrode had interfered in some way tohinder Lydgate's visits: everything was better than a spontaneousindifference in him. Any one who imagines ten days too short a time—not for falling into leanness, lightness, or other measurable effects ofpassion, but—for the whole spiritual circuit of alarmed conjecture anddisappointment, is ignorant of what can go on in the elegant leisure of ayoung lady's mind.
On the eleventh day, however, Lydgate when leaving Stone Courtwas requested by Mrs. Vincy to let her husband know that there was amarked change in Mr. Featherstone's health, and that she wished him tocome to Stone Court on that day. Now Lydgate might have called at thewarehouse, or might have written a message on a leaf of his pocket-bookand left it at the door. Yet these simple devices apparently did not occurto him, from which we may conclude that he had no strong objection tocalling at the house at an hour when Mr. Vincy was not at home, andleaving the message with Miss Vincy. A man may, from various motives,decline to give his company, but perhaps not even a sage would begratified that nobody missed him. It would be a graceful, easy way ofpiecing on the new habits to the old, to have a few playful words withRosamond about his resistance to dissipation, and his firm resolve totake long fasts even from sweet sounds. It must be confessed, also, thatmomentary speculations as to all the possible grounds for Mrs.Bulstrode's hints had managed to get woven like slight clinging hairs intothe more substantial web of his thoughts.
Miss Vincy was alone, and blushed so deeply when Lydgate came inthat he felt a corresponding embarrassment, and instead of anyplayfulness, he began at once to speak of his reason for calling, and tobeg her, almost formally, to deliver the message to her father. Rosamond,who at the first moment felt as if her happiness were returning, waskeenly hurt by Lydgate's manner; her blush had departed, and sheassented coldly, without adding an unnecessary word, some trivial chain-work which she had in her hands enabling her to avoid looking atLydgate higher than his chin. In all failures, the beginning is certainly thehalf of the whole. After sitting two long moments while he moved hiswhip and could say nothing, Lydgate rose to go, and Rosamond, madenervous by her struggle between mortification and the wish not to betrayit, dropped her chain as if startled, and rose too, mechanically. Lydgateinstantaneously stooped to pick up the chain. When he rose he was verynear to a lovely little face set on a fair long neck which he had been usedto see turning about under the most perfect management of self-contented grace. But as he raised his eyes now he saw a certain helplessquivering which touched him quite newly, and made him look atRosamond with a questioning flash. At this moment she was as naturalas she had ever been when she was five years old: she felt that her tearshad risen, and it was no use to try to do anything else than let them staylike water on a blue flower or let them fall over her cheeks, even as theywould.
