She was unpleasantly conscious that she had been on the verge ofspeaking as "one of the foolish women speaketh"—telling first andentreating silence after. But she had not entreated silence, and to preventCaleb's blame she determined to blame herself and confess all to himthat very night. It was curious what an awful tribunal the mild Caleb'swas to her, whenever he set it up. But she meant to point out to him thatthe revelation might do Fred Vincy a great deal of good.
No doubt it was having a strong effect on him as he walked toLowick. Fred's light hopeful nature had perhaps never had so much of abruise as from this suggestion that if he had been out of the way Marymight have made a thoroughly good match. Also he was piqued that hehad been what he called such a stupid lout as to ask that interventionfrom Mr. Farebrother. But it was not in a lover's nature—it was not inFred's, that the new anxiety raised about Mary's feeling should notsurmount every other. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Farebrother'sgenerosity, notwithstanding what Mary had said to him, Fred could nothelp feeling that he had a rival: it was a new consciousness, and heobjected to it extremely, not being in the least ready to give up Mary forher good, being ready rather to fight for her with any man whatsoever.But the fighting with Mr. Farebrother must be of a metaphorical kind,which was much more difficult to Fred than the muscular. Certainly thisexperience was a discipline for Fred hardly less sharp than hisdisappointment about his uncle's will. The iron had not entered into hissoul, but he had begun to imagine what the sharp edge would be. It didnot once occur to Fred that Mrs. Garth might be mistaken about Mr.Farebrother, but he suspected that she might be wrong about Mary.Mary had been staying at the parsonage lately, and her mother mightknow very little of what had been passing in her mind.
He did not feel easier when he found her looking cheerful with thethree ladies in the drawing-room. They were in animated discussion onsome subject which was dropped when he entered, and Mary wascopying the labels from a heap of shallow cabinet drawers, in a minutehandwriting which she was skilled in. Mr. Farebrother was somewhere inthe village, and the three ladies knew nothing of Fred's peculiar relationto Mary: it was impossible for either of them to propose that they shouldwalk round the garden, and Fred predicted to himself that he shouldhave to go away without saying a word to her in private. He told her firstof Christy's arrival and then of his own engagement with her father; andhe was comforted by seeing that this latter news touched her keenly. Shesaid hurriedly, "I am so glad," and then bent over her writing to hinderany one from noticing her face. But here was a subject which Mrs.Farebrother could not let pass.
"You don't mean, my dear Miss Garth, that you are glad to hear of ayoung man giving up the Church for which he was educated: you onlymean that things being so, you are glad that he should be under anexcellent man like your father."
"No, really, Mrs. Farebrother, I am glad of both, I fear," said Mary,cleverly getting rid of one rebellious tear. "I have a dreadfully secularmind. I never liked any clergyman except the Vicar of Wakefield and Mr.Farebrother."
"Now why, my dear?" said Mrs. Farebrother, pausing on her largewooden knitting-needles and looking at Mary. "You have always a goodreason for your opinions, but this astonishes me. Of course I put out ofthe question those who preach new doctrine. But why should you dislikeclergymen?"
"Oh dear," said Mary, her face breaking into merriment as sheseemed to consider a moment, "I don't like their neckcloths."
"Why, you don't like Camden's, then," said Miss Winifred, in someanxiety.
"Yes, I do," said Mary. "I don't like the other clergymen's neckcloths,because it is they who wear them."
"How very puzzling!" said Miss Noble, feeling that her own intellectwas probably deficient.
"My dear, you are joking. You would have better reasons than thesefor slighting so respectable a class of men," said Mrs. Farebrother,majestically.
"Miss Garth has such severe notions of what people should be that itis difficult to satisfy her," said Fred.
"Well, I am glad at least that she makes an exception in favor of myson," said the old lady.
Mary was wondering at Fred's piqued tone, when Mr. Farebrothercame in and had to hear the news about the engagement under Mr.Garth. At the end he said with quiet satisfaction, "That is right;" andthen bent to look at Mary's labels and praise her handwriting. Fred felthorribly jealous—was glad, of course, that Mr. Farebrother was soestimable, but wished that he had been ugly and fat as men at fortysometimes are. It was clear what the end would be, since Mary openlyplaced Farebrother above everybody, and these women were all evidentlyencouraging the affair. He, was feeling sure that he should have nochance of speaking to Mary, when Mr. Farebrother said—
"Fred, help me to carry these drawers back into my study—you havenever seen my fine new study. Pray come too, Miss Garth. I want you tosee a stupendous spider I found this morning."
Mary at once saw the Vicar's intention. He had never since thememorable evening deviated from his old pastoral kindness towards her,and her momentary wonder and doubt had quite gone to sleep. Marywas accustomed to think rather rigorously of what was probable, and if abelief flattered her vanity she felt warned to dismiss it as ridiculous,having early had much exercise in such dismissals. It was as she hadforeseen: when Fred had been asked to admire the fittings of the study,and she had been asked to admire the spider, Mr. Farebrother said—
"Wait here a minute or two. I am going to look out an engravingwhich Fred is tall enough to hang for me. I shall be back in a fewminutes." And then he went out. Nevertheless, the first word Fred said toMary was—
"It is of no use, whatever I do, Mary. You are sure to marryFarebrother at last." There was some rage in his tone.
"What do you mean, Fred?" Mary exclaimed indignantly, blushingdeeply, and surprised out of all her readiness in reply.
"It is impossible that you should not see it all clearly enough—youwho see everything."
"I only see that you are behaving very ill, Fred, in speaking so of Mr.Farebrother after he has pleaded your cause in every way. How can youhave taken up such an idea?"
Fred was rather deep, in spite of his irritation. If Mary had reallybeen unsuspicious, there was no good in telling her what Mrs. Garth hadsaid.
"It follows as a matter of course," he replied. "When you arecontinually seeing a man who beats me in everything, and whom you setup above everybody, I can have no fair chance."
"You are very ungrateful, Fred," said Mary. "I wish I had never toldMr. Farebrother that I cared for you in the least."
"No, I am not ungrateful; I should be the happiest fellow in the worldif it were not for this. I told your father everything, and he was verykind; he treated me as if I were his son. I could go at the work with awill, writing and everything, if it were not for this."
"For this? for what?" said Mary, imagining now that somethingspecific must have been said or done.
"This dreadful certainty that I shall be bowled out by Farebrother."Mary was appeased by her inclination to laugh.
"Fred," she said, peeping round to catch his eyes, which were sulkilyturned away from her, "you are too delightfully ridiculous. If you werenot such a charming simpleton, what a temptation this would be to playthe wicked coquette, and let you suppose that somebody besides you hasmade love to me."
"Do you really like me best, Mary?" said Fred, turning eyes full ofaffection on her, and trying to take her hand.
"I don't like you at all at this moment," said Mary, retreating, andputting her hands behind her. "I only said that no mortal ever made loveto me besides you. And that is no argument that a very wise man everwill," she ended, merrily.
"I wish you would tell me that you could not possibly ever think ofhim," said Fred.
"Never dare to mention this any more to me, Fred," said Mary,getting serious again. "I don't know whether it is more stupid orungenerous in you not to see that Mr. Farebrother has left us together onpurpose that we might speak freely. I am disappointed that you shouldbe so blind to his delicate feeling."
There was no time to say any more before Mr. Farebrother cameback with the engraving; and Fred had to return to the drawing-roomstill with a jealous dread in his heart, but yet with comforting argumentsfrom Mary's words and manner. The result of the conversation was onthe whole more painful to Mary: inevitably her attention had taken anew attitude, and she saw the possibility of new interpretations. She wasin a position in which she seemed to herself to be slighting Mr.Farebrother, and this, in relation to a man who is much honored, isalways dangerous to the firmness of a grateful woman. To have a reasonfor going home the next day was a relief, for Mary earnestly desired tobe always clear that she loved Fred best. When a tender affection hasbeen storing itself in us through many of our years, the idea that wecould accept any exchange for it seems to be a cheapening of our lives.And we can set a watch over our affections and our constancy as we canover other treasures.
"Fred has lost all his other expectations; he must keep this," Marysaid to herself, with a smile curling her lips. It was impossible to helpfleeting visions of another kind—new dignities and an acknowledgedvalue of which she had often felt the absence. But these things with Fredoutside them, Fred forsaken and looking sad for the want of her, couldnever tempt her deliberate thought.
CHAPTER LVIII.
"For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change:
In many's looks the false heart's history
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange:
But Heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell:
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell."
—SHAKESPEARE: Sonnets.
At the time when Mr. Vincy uttered that presentiment aboutRosamond, she herself had never had the idea that she should be drivento make the sort of appeal which he foresaw. She had not yet had anyanxiety about ways and means, although her domestic life had beenexpensive as well as eventful. Her baby had been born prematurely, andall the embroidered robes and caps had to be laid by in darkness. Thismisfortune was attributed entirely to her having persisted in going out onhorseback one day when her husband had desired her not to do so; but itmust not be supposed that she had shown temper on the occasion, orrudely told him that she would do as she liked.
What led her particularly to desire horse-exercise was a visit fromCaptain Lydgate, the baronet's third son, who, I am sorry to say, wasdetested by our Tertius of that name as a vapid fop "parting his hair frombrow to nape in a despicable fashion" (not followed by Tertius himself),and showing an ignorant security that he knew the proper thing to sayon every topic. Lydgate inwardly cursed his own folly that he had drawndown this visit by consenting to go to his uncle's on the wedding-tour,and he made himself rather disagreeable to Rosamond by saying so inprivate. For to Rosamond this visit was a source of unprecedented butgracefully concealed exultation. She was so intensely conscious of havinga cousin who was a baronet's son staying in the house, that she imaginedthe knowledge of what was implied by his presence to be diffusedthrough all other minds; and when she introduced Captain Lydgate toher guests, she had a placid sense that his rank penetrated them as if ithad been an odor. The satisfaction was enough for the time to melt awaysome disappointment in the conditions of marriage with a medical maneven of good birth: it seemed now that her marriage was visibly as wellas ideally floating her above the Middlemarch level, and the futurelooked bright with letters and visits to and from Quallingham, and vagueadvancement in consequence for Tertius. Especially as, probably at theCaptain's suggestion, his married sister, Mrs. Mengan, had come withher maid, and stayed two nights on her way from town. Hence it wasclearly worth while for Rosamond to take pains with her music and thecareful selection of her lace.
As to Captain Lydgate himself, his low brow, his aquiline nose benton one side, and his rather heavy utterance, might have beendisadvantageous in any young gentleman who had not a military bearingand mustache to give him what is doted on by some flower-like blondheads as "style." He had, moreover, that sort of high-breeding whichconsists in being free from the petty solicitudes of middle-class gentility,and he was a great critic of feminine charms. Rosamond delighted in hisadmiration now even more than she had done at Quallingham, and hefound it easy to spend several hours of the day in flirting with her. Thevisit altogether was one of the pleasantest larks he had ever had, not theless so perhaps because he suspected that his queer cousin Tertiuswished him away: though Lydgate, who would rather (hyperbolicallyspeaking) have died than have failed in polite hospitality, suppressed hisdislike, and only pretended generally not to hear what the gallant officersaid, consigning the task of answering him to Rosamond. For he was notat all a jealous husband, and preferred leaving a feather-headed younggentleman alone with his wife to bearing him company.
"I wish you would talk more to the Captain at dinner, Tertius," saidRosamond, one evening when the important guest was gone to Loamfordto see some brother officers stationed there. "You really look so absentsometimes—you seem to be seeing through his head into somethingbehind it, instead of looking at him."
"My dear Rosy, you don't expect me to talk much to such a conceitedass as that, I hope," said Lydgate, brusquely. "If he got his head broken, Imight look at it with interest, not before."
"I cannot conceive why you should speak of your cousin socontemptuously," said Rosamond, her fingers moving at her work whileshe spoke with a mild gravity which had a touch of disdain in it.
