"I can never feel that I should do that in being a clergyman," saidFred, meaning to take a step in argument.
"Then let it alone, my boy," said Caleb, abruptly, "else you'll never beeasy. Or, if you are easy, you'll be a poor stick."
"That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it," said Fred, coloring."I think you must know what I feel for Mary, Mr. Garth: I hope it doesnot displease you that I have always loved her better than any one else,and that I shall never love any one as I love her."
The expression of Caleb's face was visibly softening while Fredspoke. But he swung his head with a solemn slowness, and said—
"That makes things more serious, Fred, if you want to take Mary'shappiness into your keeping."
"I know that, Mr. Garth," said Fred, eagerly, "and I would doanything for her. She says she will never have me if I go into the Church;and I shall be the most miserable devil in the world if I lose all hope ofMary. Really, if I could get some other profession, business—anythingthat I am at all fit for, I would work hard, I would deserve your goodopinion. I should like to have to do with outdoor things. I know a gooddeal about land and cattle already. I used to believe, you know—thoughyou will think me rather foolish for it—that I should have land of myown. I am sure knowledge of that sort would come easily to me,especially if I could be under you in any way."
"Softly, my boy," said Caleb, having the image of "Susan" before hiseyes. "What have you said to your father about all this?"
"Nothing, yet; but I must tell him. I am only waiting to know what Ican do instead of entering the Church. I am very sorry to disappoint him,but a man ought to be allowed to judge for himself when he is four-and-twenty. How could I know when I was fifteen, what it would be right forme to do now? My education was a mistake."
"But hearken to this, Fred," said Caleb. "Are you sure Mary is fond ofyou, or would ever have you?"
"I asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbiddenme—I didn't know what else to do," said Fred, apologetically. "And hesays that I have every reason to hope, if I can put myself in an honorableposition—I mean, out of the Church I dare say you think itunwarrantable in me, Mr. Garth, to be troubling you and obtruding myown wishes about Mary, before I have done anything at all for myself. Ofcourse I have not the least claim—indeed, I have already a debt to youwhich will never be discharged, even when I have been, able to pay it inthe shape of money."
"Yes, my boy, you have a claim," said Caleb, with much feeling in hisvoice. "The young ones have always a claim on the old to help themforward. I was young myself once and had to do without much help; buthelp would have been welcome to me, if it had been only for the fellow-feeling's sake. But I must consider. Come to me to-morrow at the office,at nine o'clock. At the office, mind."
Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan,but it must be confessed that before he reached home he had taken hisresolution. With regard to a large number of matters about which othermen are decided or obstinate, he was the most easily manageable man inthe world. He never knew what meat he would choose, and if Susan hadsaid that they ought to live in a four-roomed cottage, in order to save, hewould have said, "Let us go," without inquiring into details. But whereCaleb's feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he was a ruler; and inspite of his mildness and timidity in reproving, every one about himknew that on the exceptional occasions when he chose, he was absolute.He never, indeed, chose to be absolute except on some one else's behalf.On ninety-nine points Mrs. Garth decided, but on the hundredth she wasoften aware that she would have to perform the singularly difficult taskof carrying out her own principle, and to make herself subordinate.
"It is come round as I thought, Susan," said Caleb, when they wereseated alone in the evening. He had already narrated the adventurewhich had brought about Fred's sharing in his work, but had kept backthe further result. "The children are fond of each other—I mean, Fredand Mary."
Mrs. Garth laid her work on her knee, and fixed her penetrating eyesanxiously on her husband.
"After we'd done our work, Fred poured it all out to me. He can'tbear to be a clergyman, and Mary says she won't have him if he is one;and the lad would like to be under me and give his mind to business.And I've determined to take him and make a man of him."
"Caleb!" said Mrs. Garth, in a deep contralto, expressive of resignedastonishment.
"It's a fine thing to do," said Mr. Garth, settling himself firmlyagainst the back of his chair, and grasping the elbows. "I shall havetrouble with him, but I think I shall carry it through. The lad loves Mary,and a true love for a good woman is a great thing, Susan. It shapes manya rough fellow."
"Has Mary spoken to you on the subject?" said Mrs Garth, secretly alittle hurt that she had to be informed on it herself.
"Not a word. I asked her about Fred once; I gave her a bit of awarning. But she assured me she would never marry an idle self-indulgent man—nothing since. But it seems Fred set on Mr. Farebrotherto talk to her, because she had forbidden him to speak himself, and Mr.Farebrother has found out that she is fond of Fred, but says he must notbe a clergyman. Fred's heart is fixed on Mary, that I can see: it gives mea good opinion of the lad—and we always liked him, Susan."
"It is a pity for Mary, I think," said Mrs. Garth.
"Why—a pity?"
"Because, Caleb, she might have had a man who is worth twentyFred Vincy's."
"Ah?" said Caleb, with surprise.
"I firmly believe that Mr. Farebrother is attached to her, and meantto make her an offer; but of course, now that Fred has used him as anenvoy, there is an end to that better prospect." There was a severeprecision in Mrs. Garth's utterance. She was vexed and disappointed, butshe was bent on abstaining from useless words.
Caleb was silent a few moments under a conflict of feelings. Helooked at the floor and moved his head and hands in accompaniment tosome inward argumentation. At last he said—
"That would have made me very proud and happy, Susan, and Ishould have been glad for your sake. I've always felt that your belongingshave never been on a level with you. But you took me, though I was aplain man."
"I took the best and cleverest man I had ever known," said Mrs.Garth, convinced that she would never have loved any one who cameshort of that mark.
"Well, perhaps others thought you might have done better. But itwould have been worse for me. And that is what touches me close aboutFred. The lad is good at bottom, and clever enough to do, if he's put inthe right way; and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything,and she has given him a sort of promise according to what he turns out.I say, that young man's soul is in my hand; and I'll do the best I can forhim, so help me God! It's my duty, Susan."
Mrs. Garth was not given to tears, but there was a large one rollingdown her face before her husband had finished. It came from thepressure of various feelings, in which there was much affection and somevexation. She wiped it away quickly, saying—
"Few men besides you would think it a duty to add to their anxietiesin that way, Caleb."
"That signifies nothing—what other men would think. I've got a clearfeeling inside me, and that I shall follow; and I hope your heart will gowith me, Susan, in making everything as light as can be to Mary, poorchild."
Caleb, leaning back in his chair, looked with anxious appeal towardshis wife. She rose and kissed him, saying, "God bless you, Caleb! Ourchildren have a good father."
But she went out and had a hearty cry to make up for thesuppression of her words. She felt sure that her husband's conduct wouldbe misunderstood, and about Fred she was rational and unhopeful.Which would turn out to have the more foresight in it—her rationality orCaleb's ardent generosity?
When Fred went to the office the next morning, there was a test tobe gone through which he was not prepared for.
"Now Fred," said Caleb, "you will have some desk-work. I havealways done a good deal of writing myself, but I can't do without help,and as I want you to understand the accounts and get the values intoyour head, I mean to do without another clerk. So you must buckle to.How are you at writing and arithmetic?"
Fred felt an awkward movement of the heart; he had not thought ofdesk-work; but he was in a resolute mood, and not going to shrink. "I'mnot afraid of arithmetic, Mr. Garth: it always came easily to me. I thinkyou know my writing."
"Let us see," said Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully andhanding it, well dipped, to Fred with a sheet of ruled paper. "Copy me aline or two of that valuation, with the figures at the end."
At that time the opinion existed that it was beneath a gentleman towrite legibly, or with a hand in the least suitable to a clerk. Fred wrotethe lines demanded in a hand as gentlemanly as that of any viscount orbishop of the day: the vowels were all alike and the consonants onlydistinguishable as turning up or down, the strokes had a blotted solidityand the letters disdained to keep the line—in short, it was a manuscriptof that venerable kind easy to interpret when you know beforehand whatthe writer means.
As Caleb looked on, his visage showed a growing depression, butwhen Fred handed him the paper he gave something like a snarl, andrapped the paper passionately with the back of his hand. Bad work likethis dispelled all Caleb's mildness.
"The deuce!" he exclaimed, snarlingly. "To think that this is a countrywhere a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and it turnsyou out this!" Then in a more pathetic tone, pushing up his spectaclesand looking at the unfortunate scribe, "The Lord have mercy on us, Fred,I can't put up with this!"
"What can I do, Mr. Garth?" said Fred, whose spirits had sunk verylow, not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision ofhimself as liable to be ranked with office clerks.
"Do? Why, you must learn to form your letters and keep the line.What's the use of writing at all if nobody can understand it?" askedCaleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the bad quality of the work."Is there so little business in the world that you must be sending puzzlesover the country? But that's the way people are brought up. I should loseno end of time with the letters some people send me, if Susan did notmake them out for me. It's disgusting." Here Caleb tossed the paper fromhim.
Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might havewondered what was the drama between the indignant man of business,and the fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was gettingrather patchy as he bit his lip with mortification. Fred was strugglingwith many thoughts. Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at thebeginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had been ata high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate. He had not thought ofdesk-work—in fact, like the majority of young gentlemen, he wanted anoccupation which should be free from disagreeables. I cannot tell whatmight have been the consequences if he had not distinctly promisedhimself that he would go to Lowick to see Mary and tell her that he wasengaged to work under her father. He did not like to disappoint himselfthere.
"I am very sorry," were all the words that he could muster. But Mr.Garth was already relenting.
"We must make the best of it, Fred," he began, with a return to hisusual quiet tone. "Every man can learn to write. I taught myself. Go at itwith a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isn't enough. We'll bepatient, my boy. Callum shall go on with the books for a bit, while youare learning. But now I must be off," said Caleb, rising. "You must letyour father know our agreement. You'll save me Callum's salary, youknow, when you can write; and I can afford to give you eighty poundsfor the first year, and more after."
When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relativeeffect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into hismemory. He went straight from Mr. Garth's office to the warehouse,rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behave tohis father was to make the painful communication as gravely andformally as possible. Moreover, the decision would be more certainlyunderstood to be final, if the interview took place in his father's gravesthours, which were always those spent in his private room at thewarehouse.
Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what hehad done and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret that heshould be the cause of disappointment to his father, and taking theblame on his own deficiencies. The regret was genuine, and inspired Fredwith strong, simple words.
Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even anexclamation, a silence which in his impatient temperament was a sign ofunusual emotion. He had not been in good spirits about trade thatmorning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense as he listened.When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly a minute, duringwhich Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned the keyemphatically. Then he looked at his son steadily, and said—
"So you've made up your mind at last, sir?"
"Yes, father."
"Very well; stick to it. I've no more to say. You've thrown away youreducation, and gone down a step in life, when I had given you the meansof rising, that's all."
"I am very sorry that we differ, father. I think I can be quite as muchof a gentleman at the work I have undertaken, as if I had been a curate.But I am grateful to you for wishing to do the best for me."
"Very well; I have no more to say. I wash my hands of you. I onlyhope, when you have a son of your own he will make a better return forthe pains you spend on him."
This was very cutting to Fred. His father was using that unfairadvantage possessed by us all when we are in a pathetic situation andsee our own past as if it were simply part of the pathos. In reality, Mr.Vincy's wishes about his son had had a great deal of pride,inconsiderateness, and egoistic folly in them. But still the disappointedfather held a strong lever; and Fred felt as if he were being banishedwith a malediction.
