"Well, I was glad of the leakiness then. I don't see why you shouldn'tlike me to know that you wished to do me a service, my dear fellow. Andyou certainly have done me one. It's rather a strong check to one's self-complacency to find how much of one's right doing depends on not beingin want of money. A man will not be tempted to say the Lord's Prayerbackward to please the devil, if he doesn't want the devil's services. Ihave no need to hang on the smiles of chance now."
"I don't see that there's any money-getting without chance," saidLydgate; "if a man gets it in a profession, it's pretty sure to come bychance."
Mr. Farebrother thought he could account for this speech, in strikingcontrast with Lydgate's former way of talking, as the perversity whichwill often spring from the moodiness of a man ill at ease in his affairs.He answered in a tone of good-humored admission—
"Ah, there's enormous patience wanted with the way of the world.But it is the easier for a man to wait patiently when he has friends wholove him, and ask for nothing better than to help him through, so far asit lies in their power."
"Oh yes," said Lydgate, in a careless tone, changing his attitude andlooking at his watch. "People make much more of their difficulties thanthey need to do."
He knew as distinctly as possible that this was an offer of help tohimself from Mr. Farebrother, and he could not bear it. So strangelydetermined are we mortals, that, after having been long gratified withthe sense that he had privately done the Vicar a service, the suggestionthat the Vicar discerned his need of a service in return made him shrinkinto unconquerable reticence. Besides, behind all making of such offerswhat else must come?—that he should "mention his case," imply that hewanted specific things. At that moment, suicide seemed easier.
Mr. Farebrother was too keen a man not to know the meaning ofthat reply, and there was a certain massiveness in Lydgate's manner andtone, corresponding with his physique, which if he repelled youradvances in the first instance seemed to put persuasive devices out ofquestion.
"What time are you?" said the Vicar, devouring his wounded feeling.
"After eleven," said Lydgate. And they went into the drawing-room.
CHAPTER LXIV.
1st Gent. Where lies the power, there let the blame lie too.
2d Gent. Nay, power is relative; you cannot fright
The coming pest with border fortresses,
Or catch your carp with subtle argument.
All force is twain in one: cause is not cause
Unless effect be there; and action's self
Must needs contain a passive. So command
Exists but with obedience."
Even if Lydgate had been inclined to be quite open about his affairs,he knew that it would have hardly been in Mr. Farebrother's power togive him the help he immediately wanted. With the year's bills coming infrom his tradesmen, with Dover's threatening hold on his furniture, andwith nothing to depend on but slow dribbling payments from patientswho must not be offended—for the handsome fees he had had fromFreshitt Hall and Lowick Manor had been easily absorbed—nothing lessthan a thousand pounds would have freed him from actualembarrassment, and left a residue which, according to the favoritephrase of hopefulness in such circumstances, would have given him "timeto look about him."
Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, whenfellow-citizens expect to be paid for the trouble and goods they havesmilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightened the pressure ofsordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it was hardly possible for him tothink unbrokenly of any other subject, even the most habitual andsoliciting. He was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity, theardent kindness of his heart, as well as his strong frame, would always,under tolerably easy conditions, have kept him above the pettyuncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper. But he was now aprey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances,but from the second consciousness underlying those annoyances, ofwasted energy and a degrading preoccupation, which was the reverse ofall his former purposes. "This is what I am thinking of; and that is what Imight have been thinking of," was the bitter incessant murmur withinhim, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience.
Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by generaldiscontent with the universe as a trap of dulness into which their greatsouls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendous self and aninsignificant world may have its consolations. Lydgate's discontent wasmuch harder to bear: it was the sense that there was a grand existence inthought and effective action lying around him, while his self was beingnarrowed into the miserable isolation of egoistic fears, and vulgaranxieties for events that might allay such fears. His troubles will perhapsappear miserably sordid, and beneath the attention of lofty persons whocan know nothing of debt except on a magnificent scale. Doubtless theywere sordid; and for the majority, who are not lofty, there is no escapefrom sordidness but by being free from money-craving, with all its basehopes and temptations, its watching for death, its hinted requests, itshorse-dealer's desire to make bad work pass for good, its seeking forfunction which ought to be another's, its compulsion often to long forLuck in the shape of a wide calamity.
It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neckbeneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody state whichwas continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him. After the firstdisclosure about the bill of sale, he had made many efforts to draw herinto sympathy with him about possible measures for narrowing theirexpenses, and with the threatening approach of Christmas hispropositions grew more and more definite. "We two can do with only oneservant, and live on very little," he said, "and I shall manage with onehorse." For Lydgate, as we have seen, had begun to reason, with a moredistinct vision, about the expenses of living, and any share of pride hehad given to appearances of that sort was meagre compared with thepride which made him revolt from exposure as a debtor, or from askingmen to help him with their money.
"Of course you can dismiss the other two servants, if you like," saidRosamond; "but I should have thought it would be very injurious to yourposition for us to live in a poor way. You must expect your practice to belowered."
"My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have beguntoo expensively. Peacock, you know, lived in a much smaller house thanthis. It is my fault: I ought to have known better, and I deserve athrashing—if there were anybody who had a right to give it me—forbringing you into the necessity of living in a poorer way than you havebeen used to. But we married because we loved each other, I suppose.And that may help us to pull along till things get better. Come, dear, putdown that work and come to me."
He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but hedreaded a future without affection, and was determined to resist theoncoming of division between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he tookher on his knee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him.The poor thing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking,and Lydgate was part of that world. But he held her waist with one handand laid the other gently on both of hers; for this rather abrupt man hadmuch tenderness in his manners towards women, seeming to havealways present in his imagination the weakness of their frames and thedelicate poise of their health both in body and mind. And he began againto speak persuasively.
"I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderful whatan amount of money slips away in our housekeeping. I suppose theservants are careless, and we have had a great many people coming. Butthere must be many in our rank who manage with much less: they mustdo with commoner things, I suppose, and look after the scraps. It seems,money goes but a little way in these matters, for Wrench has everythingas plain as possible, and he has a very large practice."
"Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do!" said Rosamond, witha little turn of her neck. "But I have heard you express your disgust atthat way of living."
"Yes, they have bad taste in everything—they make economy lookugly. We needn't do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses,although Wrench has a capital practice."
"Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacockhad. You should be more careful not to offend people, and you shouldsend out medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and yougot several good houses. It cannot answer to be eccentric; you shouldthink what will be generally liked," said Rosamond, in a decided littletone of admonition.
Lydgate's anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towardsfeminine weakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallownessof a waternixie's soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. Buthe controlled himself, and only said, with a touch of despotic firmness— "What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge. That isnot the question between us. It is enough for you to know that ourincome is likely to be a very narrow one—hardly four hundred, perhapsless, for a long time to come, and we must try to re-arrange our lives inaccordance with that fact."
Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, andthen said, "My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salary for the timeyou give to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work fornothing."
"It was understood from the beginning that my services would begratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion. I havepointed out what is the only probability," said Lydgate, impatiently.Then checking himself, he went on more quietly—
"I think I see one resource which would free us from a good deal ofthe present difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to bemarried to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often that agood house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would be gladto take this house from us with most of our furniture, and they would bewilling to pay handsomely for the lease. I can employ Trumbull to speakto Plymdale about it."
Rosamond left her husband's knee and walked slowly to the otherend of the room; when she turned round and walked towards him it wasevident that the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lipand clasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate waswretched—shaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanlyto vent the anger just now.
"I am very sorry, Rosamond; I know this is painful."
"I thought, at least, when I had borne to send the plate back andhave that man taking an inventory of the furniture—I should havethought that would suffice."
"I explained it to you at the time, dear. That was only a security andbehind that Security there is a debt. And that debt must be paid withinthe next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold. If youngPlymdale will take our house and most of our furniture, we shall be ableto pay that debt, and some others too, and we shall be quit of a place tooexpensive for us. We might take a smaller house: Trumbull, I know, hasa very decent one to let at thirty pounds a-year, and this is ninety."Lydgate uttered this speech in the curt hammering way with which weusually try to nail down a vague mind to imperative facts. Tears rolledsilently down Rosamond's cheeks; she just pressed her handkerchiefagainst them, and stood looking at the large vase on the mantel-piece. Itwas a moment of more intense bitterness than she had ever felt before.At last she said, without hurry and with careful emphasis—
"I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way."
"Like it?" burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting his handsin his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; "it's not a question ofliking. Of course, I don't like it; it's the only thing I can do." He wheeledround there, and turned towards her.
"I should have thought there were many other means than that," saidRosamond. "Let us have a sale and leave Middlemarch altogether."
"To do what? What is the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarchto go where I have none? We should be just as penniless elsewhere as weare here," said Lydgate still more angrily.
"If we are to be in that position it will be entirely your own doing,Tertius," said Rosamond, turning round to speak with the fullestconviction. "You will not behave as you ought to do to your own family.You offended Captain Lydgate. Sir Godwin was very kind to me when wewere at Quallingham, and I am sure if you showed proper regard to himand told him your affairs, he would do anything for you. But rather thanthat, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Ned Plymdale."
There was something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as heanswered with new violence, "Well, then, if you will have it so, I do likeit. I admit that I like it better than making a fool of myself by going tobeg where it's of no use. Understand then, that it is what I like to do."
There was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalent to theclutch of his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm. But for all that,his will was not a whit stronger than hers. She immediately walked outof the room in silence, but with an intense determination to hinder whatLydgate liked to do.
He went out of the house, but as his blood cooled he felt that thechief result of the discussion was a deposit of dread within him at theidea of opening with his wife in future subjects which might again urgehim to violent speech. It was as if a fracture in delicate crystal hadbegun, and he was afraid of any movement that might mate it fatal. Hismarriage would be a mere piece of bitter irony if they could not go onloving each other. He had long ago made up his mind to what he thoughtwas her negative character—her want of sensibility, which showed itselfin disregard both of his specific wishes and of his general aims. The firstgreat disappointment had been borne: the tender devotedness and docileadoration of the ideal wife must be renounced, and life must be taken upon a lower stage of expectation, as it is by men who have lost theirlimbs. But the real wife had not only her claims, she had still a hold onhis heart, and it was his intense desire that the hold should remainstrong. In marriage, the certainty, "She will never love me much," iseasier to bear than the fear, "I shall love her no more." Hence, after thatoutburst, his inward effort was entirely to excuse her, and to blame thehard circumstances which were partly his fault. He tried that evening, bypetting her, to heal the wound he had made in the morning, and it wasnot in Rosamond's nature to be repellent or sulky; indeed, she welcomedthe signs that her husband loved her and was under control. But this wassomething quite distinct from loving him. Lydgate would not havechosen soon to recur to the plan of parting with the house; he wasresolved to carry it out, and say as little more about it as possible. ButRosamond herself touched on it at breakfast by saying, mildly—
