"I hope Chettam and I shall always be good friends; but I am sorry tosay there is no prospect of his marrying my niece," said Mr. Brooke,much relieved to see through the window that Celia was coming in.
"Why not?" said Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharp note of surprise. "Itis hardly a fortnight since you and I were talking about it."
"My niece has chosen another suitor—has chosen him, you know. Ihave had nothing to do with it. I should have preferred Chettam; and Ishould have said Chettam was the man any girl would have chosen. Butthere is no accounting for these things. Your sex is capricious, youknow."
"Why, whom do you mean to say that you are going to let hermarry?" Mrs. Cadwallader's mind was rapidly surveying the possibilitiesof choice for Dorothea.
But here Celia entered, blooming from a walk in the garden, and thegreeting with her delivered Mr. Brooke from the necessity of answeringimmediately. He got up hastily, and saying, "By the way, I must speak toWright about the horses," shuffled quickly out of the room.
"My dear child, what is this?—this about your sister's engagement?"said Mrs. Cadwallader.
"She is engaged to marry Mr. Casaubon," said Celia, resorting, asusual, to the simplest statement of fact, and enjoying this opportunity ofspeaking to the Rector's wife alone.
"This is frightful. How long has it been going on?"
"I only knew of it yesterday. They are to be married in six weeks."
"Well, my dear, I wish you joy of your brother-in-law."
"I am so sorry for Dorothea."
"Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose."
"Yes; she says Mr. Casaubon has a great soul."
"With all my heart."
"Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader, I don't think it can be nice to marry a manwith a great soul."
"Well, my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now; whenthe next comes and wants to marry you, don't you accept him."
"I'm sure I never should."
"No; one such in a family is enough. So your sister never cared aboutSir James Chettam? What would you have said to him for a brother-in-law?"
"I should have liked that very much. I am sure he would have been agood husband. Only," Celia added, with a slight blush (she sometimesseemed to blush as she breathed), "I don't think he would have suitedDorothea."
"Not high-flown enough?"
"Dodo is very strict. She thinks so much about everything, and is soparticular about what one says. Sir James never seemed to please her."
"She must have encouraged him, I am sure. That is not verycreditable."
"Please don't be angry with Dodo; she does not see things. Shethought so much about the cottages, and she was rude to Sir Jamessometimes; but he is so kind, he never noticed it."
"Well," said Mrs. Cadwallader, putting on her shawl, and rising, as ifin haste, "I must go straight to Sir James and break this to him. He willhave brought his mother back by this time, and I must call. Your unclewill never tell him. We are all disappointed, my dear. Young peopleshould think of their families in marrying. I set a bad example—marrieda poor clergyman, and made myself a pitiable object among the DeBracys—obliged to get my coals by stratagem, and pray to heaven for mysalad oil. However, Casaubon has money enough; I must do him thatjustice. As to his blood, I suppose the family quarterings are three cuttle-fish sable, and a commentator rampant. By the bye, before I go, my dear,I must speak to your Mrs. Carter about pastry. I want to send my youngcook to learn of her. Poor people with four children, like us, you know,can't afford to keep a good cook. I have no doubt Mrs. Carter will obligeme. Sir James's cook is a perfect dragon."
In less than an hour, Mrs. Cadwallader had circumvented Mrs.Carter and driven to Freshitt Hall, which was not far from her ownparsonage, her husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curatein Tipton.
Sir James Chettam had returned from the short journey which hadkept him absent for a couple of days, and had changed his dress,intending to ride over to Tipton Grange. His horse was standing at thedoor when Mrs. Cadwallader drove up, and he immediately appearedthere himself, whip in hand. Lady Chettam had not yet returned, butMrs. Cadwallader's errand could not be despatched in the presence ofgrooms, so she asked to be taken into the conservatory close by, to lookat the new plants; and on coming to a contemplative stand, she said—
"I have a great shock for you; I hope you are not so far gone in loveas you pretended to be."
It was of no use protesting, against Mrs. Cadwallader's way ofputting things. But Sir James's countenance changed a little. He felt avague alarm.
"I do believe Brooke is going to expose himself after all. I accusedhim of meaning to stand for Middlemarch on the Liberal side, and helooked silly and never denied it—talked about the independent line, andthe usual nonsense."
"Is that all?" said Sir James, much relieved.
"Why," rejoined Mrs. Cadwallader, with a sharper note, "you don'tmean to say that you would like him to turn public man in that way—making a sort of political Cheap Jack of himself?"
"He might be dissuaded, I should think. He would not like theexpense."
"That is what I told him. He is vulnerable to reason there—always afew grains of common-sense in an ounce of miserliness. Miserliness is acapital quality to run in families; it's the safe side for madness to dip on.And there must be a little crack in the Brooke family, else we should notsee what we are to see."
"What? Brooke standing for Middlemarch?"
"Worse than that. I really feel a little responsible. I always told youMiss Brooke would be such a fine match. I knew there was a great dealof nonsense in her—a flighty sort of Methodistical stuff. But these thingswear out of girls. However, I am taken by surprise for once."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Cadwallader?" said Sir James. His fear lestMiss Brooke should have run away to join the Moravian Brethren, orsome preposterous sect unknown to good society, was a little allayed bythe knowledge that Mrs. Cadwallader always made the worst of things."What has happened to Miss Brooke? Pray speak out."
"Very well. She is engaged to be married." Mrs. Cadwallader pauseda few moments, observing the deeply hurt expression in her friend's face,which he was trying to conceal by a nervous smile, while he whipped hisboot; but she soon added, "Engaged to Casaubon."
Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it up. Perhaps his facehad never before gathered so much concentrated disgust as when heturned to Mrs. Cadwallader and repeated, "Casaubon?"
"Even so. You know my errand now."
"Good God! It is horrible! He is no better than a mummy!" (The pointof view has to be allowed for, as that of a blooming and disappointedrival.)
"She says, he is a great soul.—A great bladder for dried peas to rattlein!" said Mrs. Cadwallader.
"What business has an old bachelor like that to marry?" said SirJames. "He has one foot in the grave."
"He means to draw it out again, I suppose."
"Brooke ought not to allow it: he should insist on its being put off tillshe is of age. She would think better of it then. What is a guardian for?"
"As if you could ever squeeze a resolution out of Brooke!"
"Cadwallader might talk to him."
"Not he! Humphrey finds everybody charming. I never can get him toabuse Casaubon. He will even speak well of the bishop, though I tell himit is unnatural in a beneficed clergyman; what can one do with ahusband who attends so little to the decencies? I hide it as well as I canby abusing everybody myself. Come, come, cheer up! you are well rid ofMiss Brooke, a girl who would have been requiring you to see the starsby daylight. Between ourselves, little Celia is worth two of her, and likelyafter all to be the better match. For this marriage to Casaubon is as goodas going to a nunnery."
"Oh, on my own account—it is for Miss Brooke's sake I think herfriends should try to use their influence."
"Well, Humphrey doesn't know yet. But when I tell him, you maydepend on it he will say, 'Why not? Casaubon is a good fellow—andyoung—young enough.' These charitable people never know vinegar fromwine till they have swallowed it and got the colic. However, if I were aman I should prefer Celia, especially when Dorothea was gone. The truthis, you have been courting one and have won the other. I can see thatshe admires you almost as much as a man expects to be admired. If itwere any one but me who said so, you might think it exaggeration. Good-by!"
Sir James handed Mrs. Cadwallader to the phaeton, and then jumpedon his horse. He was not going to renounce his ride because of hisfriend's unpleasant news—only to ride the faster in some other directionthan that of Tipton Grange.
Now, why on earth should Mrs. Cadwallader have been at all busyabout Miss Brooke's marriage; and why, when one match that she likedto think she had a hand in was frustrated, should she have straightwaycontrived the preliminaries of another? Was there any ingenious plot,any hide-and-seek course of action, which might be detected by a carefultelescopic watch? Not at all: a telescope might have swept the parishesof Tipton and Freshitt, the whole area visited by Mrs. Cadwallader in herphaeton, without witnessing any interview that could excite suspicion, orany scene from which she did not return with the same unperturbedkeenness of eye and the same high natural color. In fact, if thatconvenient vehicle had existed in the days of the Seven Sages, one ofthem would doubtless have remarked, that you can know little of womenby following them about in their pony-phaetons. Even with a microscopedirected on a water-drop we find ourselves making interpretations whichturn out to be rather coarse; for whereas under a weak lens you mayseem to see a creature exhibiting an active voracity into which othersmaller creatures actively play as if they were so many animated tax-pennies, a stronger lens reveals to you certain tiniest hairlets which makevortices for these victims while the swallower waits passively at hisreceipt of custom. In this way, metaphorically speaking, a strong lensapplied to Mrs. Cadwallader's match-making will show a play of minutecauses producing what may be called thought and speech vortices tobring her the sort of food she needed. Her life was rurally simple, quitefree from secrets either foul, dangerous, or otherwise important, and notconsciously affected by the great affairs of the world. All the more didthe affairs of the great world interest her, when communicated in theletters of high-born relations: the way in which fascinating younger sonshad gone to the dogs by marrying their mistresses; the fine old-bloodedidiocy of young Lord Tapir, and the furious gouty humors of old LordMegatherium; the exact crossing of genealogies which had brought acoronet into a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—thesewere topics of which she retained details with the utmost accuracy, andreproduced them in an excellent pickle of epigrams, which she herselfenjoyed the more because she believed as unquestionably in birth andno-birth as she did in game and vermin. She would never have disownedany one on the ground of poverty: a De Bracy reduced to take his dinnerin a basin would have seemed to her an example of pathos worthexaggerating, and I fear his aristocratic vices would not have horrifiedher. But her feeling towards the vulgar rich was a sort of religioushatred: they had probably made all their money out of high retail prices,and Mrs. Cadwallader detested high prices for everything that was notpaid in kind at the Rectory: such people were no part of God's design inmaking the world; and their accent was an affliction to the ears. A townwhere such monsters abounded was hardly more than a sort of lowcomedy, which could not be taken account of in a well-bred scheme ofthe universe. Let any lady who is inclined to be hard on Mrs.Cadwallader inquire into the comprehensiveness of her own beautifulviews, and be quite sure that they afford accommodation for all the liveswhich have the honor to coexist with hers.
With such a mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that camenear into the form that suited it, how could Mrs. Cadwallader feel thatthe Miss Brookes and their matrimonial prospects were alien to her?especially as it had been the habit of years for her to scold Mr. Brookewith the friendliest frankness, and let him know in confidence that shethought him a poor creature. From the first arrival of the young ladies inTipton she had prearranged Dorothea's marriage with Sir James, and if ithad taken place would have been quite sure that it was her doing: that itshould not take place after she had preconceived it, caused her anirritation which every thinker will sympathize with. She was thediplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, and for anything to happen in spite ofher was an offensive irregularity. As to freaks like this of Miss Brooke's,Mrs. Cadwallader had no patience with them, and now saw that heropinion of this girl had been infected with some of her husband's weakcharitableness: those Methodistical whims, that air of being morereligious than the rector and curate together, came from a deeper andmore constitutional disease than she had been willing to believe.
"However," said Mrs. Cadwallader, first to herself and afterwards toher husband, "I throw her over: there was a chance, if she had marriedSir James, of her becoming a sane, sensible woman. He would never havecontradicted her, and when a woman is not contradicted, she has nomotive for obstinacy in her absurdities. But now I wish her joy of herhair shirt."
It followed that Mrs. Cadwallader must decide on another match forSir James, and having made up her mind that it was to be the youngerMiss Brooke, there could not have been a more skilful move towards thesuccess of her plan than her hint to the baronet that he had made animpression on Celia's heart. For he was not one of those gentlemen wholanguish after the unattainable Sappho's apple that laughs from thetopmost bough—the charms which
"Smile like the knot of cowslips on the cliff,
Not to be come at by the willing hand."
He had no sonnets to write, and it could not strike him agreeablythat he was not an object of preference to the woman whom he hadpreferred. Already the knowledge that Dorothea had chosen Mr.Casaubon had bruised his attachment and relaxed its hold. Although SirJames was a sportsman, he had some other feelings towards women thantowards grouse and foxes, and did not regard his future wife in the lightof prey, valuable chiefly for the excitements of the chase. Neither was heso well acquainted with the habits of primitive races as to feel that anideal combat for her, tomahawk in hand, so to speak, was necessary tothe historical continuity of the marriage-tie. On the contrary, having theamiable vanity which knits us to those who are fond of us, anddisinclines us to those who are indifferent, and also a good gratefulnature, the mere idea that a woman had a kindness towards him spunlittle threads of tenderness from out his heart towards hers.
