Its novelty made it the more irritating. He was amazed, disgustedthat conditions so foreign to all his purposes, so hatefully disconnectedwith the objects he cared to occupy himself with, should have lain inambush and clutched him when he was unaware. And there was not onlythe actual debt; there was the certainty that in his present position hemust go on deepening it. Two furnishing tradesmen at Brassing, whosebills had been incurred before his marriage, and whom uncalculatedcurrent expenses had ever since prevented him from paying, hadrepeatedly sent him unpleasant letters which had forced themselves onhis attention. This could hardly have been more galling to anydisposition than to Lydgate's, with his intense pride—his dislike ofasking a favor or being under an obligation to any one. He had scornedeven to form conjectures about Mr. Vincy's intentions on money matters,and nothing but extremity could have induced him to apply to his father-in-law, even if he had not been made aware in various indirect wayssince his marriage that Mr. Vincy's own affairs were not flourishing, andthat the expectation of help from him would be resented. Some meneasily trust in the readiness of friends; it had never in the former part ofhis life occurred to Lydgate that he should need to do so: he had neverthought what borrowing would be to him; but now that the idea hadentered his mind, he felt that he would rather incur any other hardship.In the mean time he had no money or prospects of money; and hispractice was not getting more lucrative.
No wonder that Lydgate had been unable to suppress all signs ofinward trouble during the last few months, and now that Rosamond wasregaining brilliant health, he meditated taking her entirely intoconfidence on his difficulties. New conversance with tradesmen's billshad forced his reasoning into a new channel of comparison: he hadbegun to consider from a new point of view what was necessary andunnecessary in goods ordered, and to see that there must be somechange of habits. How could such a change be made without Rosamond'sconcurrence? The immediate occasion of opening the disagreeable fact toher was forced upon him.
Having no money, and having privately sought advice as to whatsecurity could possibly be given by a man in his position, Lydgate hadoffered the one good security in his power to the less peremptorycreditor, who was a silversmith and jeweller, and who consented to takeon himself the upholsterer's credit also, accepting interest for a giventerm. The security necessary was a bill of sale on the furniture of hishouse, which might make a creditor easy for a reasonable time about adebt amounting to less than four hundred pounds; and the silversmith,Mr. Dover, was willing to reduce it by taking back a portion of the plateand any other article which was as good as new. "Any other article" wasa phrase delicately implying jewellery, and more particularly some purpleamethysts costing thirty pounds, which Lydgate had bought as a bridalpresent.
Opinions may be divided as to his wisdom in making this present:some may think that it was a graceful attention to be expected from aman like Lydgate, and that the fault of any troublesome consequenceslay in the pinched narrowness of provincial life at that time, whichoffered no conveniences for professional people whose fortune was notproportioned to their tastes; also, in Lydgate's ridiculous fastidiousnessabout asking his friends for money.
However, it had seemed a question of no moment to him on that finemorning when he went to give a final order for plate: in the presence ofother jewels enormously expensive, and as an addition to orders of whichthe amount had not been exactly calculated, thirty pounds for ornamentsso exquisitely suited to Rosamond's neck and arms could hardly appearexcessive when there was no ready cash for it to exceed. But at this crisisLydgate's imagination could not help dwelling on the possibility of lettingthe amethysts take their place again among Mr. Dover's stock, though heshrank from the idea of proposing this to Rosamond. Having been rousedto discern consequences which he had never been in the habit of tracing,he was preparing to act on this discernment with some of the rigor (byno means all) that he would have applied in pursuing experiment. Hewas nerving himself to this rigor as he rode from Brassing, and meditatedon the representations he must make to Rosamond.
It was evening when he got home. He was intensely miserable, thisstrong man of nine-and-twenty and of many gifts. He was not sayingangrily within himself that he had made a profound mistake; but themistake was at work in him like a recognized chronic disease, minglingits uneasy importunities with every prospect, and enfeebling everythought. As he went along the passage to the drawing-room, he heard thepiano and singing. Of course, Ladislaw was there. It was some weekssince Will had parted from Dorothea, yet he was still at the old post inMiddlemarch. Lydgate had no objection in general to Ladislaw's coming,but just now he was annoyed that he could not find his hearth free.When he opened the door the two singers went on towards the key-note,raising their eyes and looking at him indeed, but not regarding hisentrance as an interruption. To a man galled with his harness as poorLydgate was, it is not soothing to see two people warbling at him, as hecomes in with the sense that the painful day has still pains in store. Hisface, already paler than usual, took on a scowl as he walked across theroom and flung himself into a chair.
The singers feeling themselves excused by the fact that they had onlythree bars to sing, now turned round.
"How are you, Lydgate?" said Will, coming forward to shake hands.
Lydgate took his hand, but did not think it necessary to speak.
"Have you dined, Tertius? I expected you much earlier," saidRosamond, who had already seen that her husband was in a "horriblehumor." She seated herself in her usual place as she spoke.
"I have dined. I should like some tea, please," said Lydgate, curtly,still scowling and looking markedly at his legs stretched out before him.
Will was too quick to need more. "I shall be off," he said, reachinghis hat.
"Tea is coming," said Rosamond; "pray don't go."
"Yes, Lydgate is bored," said Will, who had more comprehension ofLydgate than Rosamond had, and was not offended by his manner, easilyimagining outdoor causes of annoyance.
"There is the more need for you to stay," said Rosamond, playfully,and in her lightest accent; "he will not speak to me all the evening."
"Yes, Rosamond, I shall," said Lydgate, in his strong baritone. "I havesome serious business to speak to you about."
No introduction of the business could have been less like that whichLydgate had intended; but her indifferent manner had been tooprovoking.
"There! you see," said Will. "I'm going to the meeting about theMechanics' Institute. Good-by;" and he went quickly out of the room.
Rosamond did not look at her husband, but presently rose and tookher place before the tea-tray. She was thinking that she had never seenhim so disagreeable. Lydgate turned his dark eyes on her and watchedher as she delicately handled the tea-service with her taper fingers, andlooked at the objects immediately before her with no curve in her facedisturbed, and yet with an ineffable protest in her air against all peoplewith unpleasant manners. For the moment he lost the sense of his woundin a sudden speculation about this new form of feminine impassibilityrevealing itself in the sylph-like frame which he had once interpreted asthe sign of a ready intelligent sensitiveness. His mind glancing back toLaure while he looked at Rosamond, he said inwardly, "Would she killme because I wearied her?" and then, "It is the way with all women." Butthis power of generalizing which gives men so much the superiority inmistake over the dumb animals, was immediately thwarted by Lydgate'smemory of wondering impressions from the behavior of anotherwoman—from Dorothea's looks and tones of emotion about her husbandwhen Lydgate began to attend him—from her passionate cry to be taughtwhat would best comfort that man for whose sake it seemed as if shemust quell every impulse in her except the yearnings of faithfulness andcompassion. These revived impressions succeeded each other quickly anddreamily in Lydgate's mind while the tea was being brewed. He had shuthis eyes in the last instant of reverie while he heard Dorothea saying,"Advise me—think what I can do—he has been all his life laboring andlooking forward. He minds about nothing else—and I mind aboutnothing else."
That voice of deep-souled womanhood had remained within him asthe enkindling conceptions of dead and sceptred genius had remainedwithin him (is there not a genius for feeling nobly which also reigns overhuman spirits and their conclusions?); the tones were a music fromwhich he was falling away—he had really fallen into a momentary doze,when Rosamond said in her silvery neutral way, "Here is your tea,Tertius," setting it on the small table by his side, and then moved back toher place without looking at him. Lydgate was too hasty in attributinginsensibility to her; after her own fashion, she was sensitive enough, andtook lasting impressions. Her impression now was one of offence andrepulsion. But then, Rosamond had no scowls and had never raised hervoice: she was quite sure that no one could justly find fault with her.
Perhaps Lydgate and she had never felt so far off each other before;but there were strong reasons for not deferring his revelation, even if hehad not already begun it by that abrupt announcement; indeed some ofthe angry desire to rouse her into more sensibility on his account whichhad prompted him to speak prematurely, still mingled with his pain inthe prospect of her pain. But he waited till the tray was gone, thecandles were lit, and the evening quiet might be counted on: the intervalhad left time for repelled tenderness to return into the old course. Hespoke kindly.
"Dear Rosy, lay down your work and come to sit by me," he said,gently, pushing away the table, and stretching out his arm to draw achair near his own.
Rosamond obeyed. As she came towards him in her drapery oftransparent faintly tinted muslin, her slim yet round figure never lookedmore graceful; as she sat down by him and laid one hand on the elbow ofhis chair, at last looking at him and meeting his eyes, her delicate neckand cheek and purely cut lips never had more of that untarnished beautywhich touches as in spring-time and infancy and all sweet freshness. Ittouched Lydgate now, and mingled the early moments of his love for herwith all the other memories which were stirred in this crisis of deeptrouble. He laid his ample hand softly on hers, saying—
"Dear!" with the lingering utterance which affection gives to theword. Rosamond too was still under the power of that same past, andher husband was still in part the Lydgate whose approval had stirreddelight. She put his hair lightly away from his forehead, then laid herother hand on his, and was conscious of forgiving him.
"I am obliged to tell you what will hurt you, Rosy. But there arethings which husband and wife must think of together. I dare say it hasoccurred to you already that I am short of money."
Lydgate paused; but Rosamond turned her neck and looked at a vaseon the mantel-piece.
"I was not able to pay for all the things we had to get before we weremarried, and there have been expenses since which I have been obligedto meet. The consequence is, there is a large debt at Brassing—threehundred and eighty pounds—which has been pressing on me a goodwhile, and in fact we are getting deeper every day, for people don't payme the faster because others want the money. I took pains to keep itfrom you while you were not well; but now we must think together aboutit, and you must help me."
"What can—I—do, Tertius?" said Rosamond, turning her eyes on himagain. That little speech of four words, like so many others in alllanguages, is capable by varied vocal inflections of expressing all statesof mind from helpless dimness to exhaustive argumentative perception,from the completest self-devoting fellowship to the most neutralaloofness. Rosamond's thin utterance threw into the words "What can—I—do!" as much neutrality as they could hold. They fell like a mortalchill on Lydgate's roused tenderness. He did not storm in indignation—he felt too sad a sinking of the heart. And when he spoke again it wasmore in the tone of a man who forces himself to fulfil a task.
"It is necessary for you to know, because I have to give security for atime, and a man must come to make an inventory of the furniture."
Rosamond colored deeply. "Have you not asked papa for money?"she said, as soon as she could speak.
"No."
"Then I must ask him!" she said, releasing her hands from Lydgate's,and rising to stand at two yards' distance from him.
"No, Rosy," said Lydgate, decisively. "It is too late to do that. Theinventory will be begun to-morrow. Remember it is a mere security: itwill make no difference: it is a temporary affair. I insist upon it that yourfather shall not know, unless I choose to tell him," added Lydgate, with amore peremptory emphasis.
This certainly was unkind, but Rosamond had thrown him back onevil expectation as to what she would do in the way of quiet steadydisobedience. The unkindness seemed unpardonable to her: she was notgiven to weeping and disliked it, but now her chin and lips began totremble and the tears welled up. Perhaps it was not possible for Lydgate,under the double stress of outward material difficulty and of his ownproud resistance to humiliating consequences, to imagine fully what thissudden trial was to a young creature who had known nothing butindulgence, and whose dreams had all been of new indulgence, moreexactly to her taste. But he did wish to spare her as much as he could,and her tears cut him to the heart. He could not speak againimmediately; but Rosamond did not go on sobbing: she tried to conquerher agitation and wiped away her tears, continuing to look before her atthe mantel-piece.
"Try not to grieve, darling," said Lydgate, turning his eyes uptowards her. That she had chosen to move away from him in thismoment of her trouble made everything harder to say, but he mustabsolutely go on. "We must brace ourselves to do what is necessary. It isI who have been in fault: I ought to have seen that I could not afford-tolive in this way. But many things have told against me in my practice,and it really just now has ebbed to a low point. I may recover it, but inthe mean time we must pull up—we must change our way of living. Weshall weather it. When I have given this security I shall have time to lookabout me; and you are so clever that if you turn your mind to managingyou will school me into carefulness. I have been a thoughtless rascalabout squaring prices—but come, dear, sit down and forgive me."
