Middlemarch, Page 64

  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 comingin from his tradesmen, with Dover's threatening hold on his furniture,and with 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 actual embarrassment,and left a residue which, according to the favorite phrase ofhopefulness in such circumstances, would have given him "time to lookabout 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,the ardent kindness of his heart, as well as his strong frame, wouldalways, 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 I might have been thinking of," was the bitter incessant murmurwithin him, 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 theirgreat souls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendous selfand an insignificant world may have its consolations. Lydgate'sdiscontent was much harder to bear: it was the sense that there was agrand existence in thought and effective action lying around him, whilehis self was being narrowed into the miserable isolation of egoisticfears, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears.His troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid, and beneath theattention of lofty persons who can know nothing of debt except on amagnificent scale. Doubtless they were sordid; and for the majority,who are not lofty, there is no escape from sordidness but by being freefrom money-craving, with all its base hopes and temptations, itswatching for death, its hinted requests, its horse-dealer's desire tomake bad work pass for good, its seeking for function which ought to beanother's, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the shape of a widecalamity.

  It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neckbeneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody statewhich was continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him. Afterthe first disclosure about the bill of sale, he had made many effortsto draw her into sympathy with him about possible measures fornarrowing their expenses, and with the threatening approach ofChristmas his propositions grew more and more definite. "We two can dowith only one servant, and live on very little," he said, "and I shallmanage with one horse." For Lydgate, as we have seen, had begun toreason, with a more distinct vision, about the expenses of living, andany share of pride he had given to appearances of that sort was meagrecompared with the pride which made him revolt from exposure as adebtor, or from asking men 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 practiceto be lowered."

  "My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have begun tooexpensively. 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,put down that work and come to me."

  He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but he dreaded afuture without affection, and was determined to resist the oncoming ofdivision between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he took her on hisknee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him. The poorthing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking, andLydgate 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 manhad much 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 beganagain to speak persuasively.

  "I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderfulwhat an 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 must dowith 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, with alittle 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 look ugly.We needn't do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses, althoughWrench has a capital practice."

  "Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacock had.You should be more careful not to offend people, and you should sendout medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and you gotseveral 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 towards feminineweakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallowness of awaternixie's soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. But hecontrolled 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 livesin accordance with that fact."

  Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, and thensaid, "My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salary for the time yougive to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work for nothing."

  "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 of thepresent difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to bemarried to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often thata good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would beglad to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and theywould be willing to pay handsomely for the lease. I can employTrumbull to speak to Plymdale about it."

  Rosamond left her husband's knee and walked slowly to the other end ofthe room; when she turned round and walked towards him it was evidentthat the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lip andclasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate waswretched--shaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanly tovent 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 and havethat man taking an inventory of the furniture--I should have thought_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 paidwithin the next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold. Ifyoung Plymdale will take our house and most of our furniture, we shallbe able to pay that debt, and some others too, and we shall be quit ofa place too expensive for us. We might take a smaller house: Trumbull,I know, has a very decent one to let at thirty pounds a-year, and thisis ninety." Lydgate uttered this speech in the curt hammering way withwhich we usually try to nail down a vague mind to imperative facts.Tears rolled silently down Rosamond's cheeks; she just pressed herhandkerchief against them, and stood looking at the large vase on themantel-piece. It was a moment of more intense bitterness than she hadever felt before. At last she said, without hurry and with carefulemphasis--

  "I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way."

  "Like it?" burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting hishands in his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; "it's not aquestion of liking. Of course, I don't like it; it's the only thing Ican do." He wheeled round 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 Middlemarch togo 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 ownfamily. You offended Captain Lydgate. Sir Godwin was very kind to mewhen we were at Quallingham, and I am sure if you showed proper regardto him and told him your affairs, he would do anything for you. Butrather than that, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. NedPlymdale."

  There was something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as he answeredwith new violence, "Well, then, if you will have it so, I do like it.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 todo._"

  There was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalent to theclutch of his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm. But for allthat, his will was not a whit stronger than hers. She immediatelywalked out of the room in silence, but with an intense determination tohinder what Lydgate 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 make 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 showeditself in disregard both of his specific wishes and of his generalaims. The first great disappointment had been borne: the tenderdevotedness and docile adoration of the ideal wife must be renounced,and life must be taken up on a lower stage of expectation, as it is bymen who have lost their limbs. But the real wife had not only herclaims, she had still a hold on his heart, and it was his intensedesire that the hold should remain strong. In marriage, the certainty,"She will never love me much," is easier to bear than the fear, "Ishall love her no more." Hence, after that outburst, his inward effortwas entirely to excuse her, and to blame the hard circumstances whichwere partly his fault. He tried that evening, by petting her, to healthe wound he had made in the morning, and it was not in Rosamond'snature to be repellent or sulky; indeed, she welcomed the signs thather husband loved her and was under control. But this was somethingquite distinct from loving _him_. Lydgate would not have chosen soon torecur to the plan of parting with the house; he was resolved to carryit out, and say as little more about it as possible. But Rosamondherself touched on it at breakfast by saying, mildly--

  "Have you spoken to Trumbull yet?"

  "No," said Lydgate, "but I shall call on him as I go by this morning.No time must be lost." He took Rosamond's question as a sign that shewithdrew her inward opposition, and kissed her head caressingly when hegot up to go away.

  As soon as it was late enough to make a call, Rosamond went to Mrs.Plymdale, Mr. Ned's mother, and entered with pretty congratulationsinto the subject of the coming marriage. Mrs. Plymdale's maternal viewwas, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses ofher own folly; and feeling the advantages to be at present all on theside of her son, was too kind a woman not to behave graciously.

  "Yes, Ned is most happy, I must say. And Sophy Toller is all I coulddesire in a daughter-in-law. Of course her father is able to dosomething handsome for her--that is only what would be expected with abrewery like his. And the connection is everything we should desire.But that is not what I look at. She is such a very nice girl--no airs,no pretensions, though on a level with the first. I don't mean withthe titled aristocracy. I see very little good in people aiming out oftheir own sphere. I mean that Sophy is equal to the best in the town,and she is contented with that."

  "I have always thought her very agreeable," said Rosamond.

  "I look upon it as a reward for Ned, who never held his head too high,that he should have got into the very best connection," continued Mrs.Plymdale, her native sharpness softened by a fervid sense that she wastaking a correct view. "And such particular people as the Tollers are,they might have objected because some of our friends are not theirs.It is well known that your aunt Bulstrode and I have been intimate fromour youth, and Mr. Plymdale has been always on Mr. Bulstrode's side.And I myself prefer serious opinions. But the Tollers have welcomedNed all the same."

  "I am sure he is a very deserving, well-principled young man," saidRosamond, with a neat air of patronage in return for Mrs. Plymdale'swholesome corrections.

  "Oh, he has not the style of a captain in the army, or that sort ofcarriage as if everybody was beneath him, or that showy kind oftalking, and singing, and intellectual talent. But I am thankful hehas not. It is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter."

  "Oh dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness," saidRosamond. "I think there is every prospect of their being a happycouple. What house will they take?"

  "Oh, as for that, they must put up with what they can get. They havebeen looking at the house in St. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hackbutt's;it belongs to him, and he is putting it nicely in repair. I supposethey are not likely to hear of a better. Indeed, I think Ned willdecide the matter to-day."

  "I should think it is a nice house; I like St. Peter's Place."

  "Well, it is near the Church, and a genteel situation. But the windowsare narrow, and it is all ups and downs. You don't happen to know ofany other that would be at liberty?" said Mrs. Plymdale, fixing herround black eyes on Rosamond with the animation of a sudden thought inthem.

  "Oh no; I hear so little of those things."

  Rosamond had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out topay her visit; she had simply meant to gather any information whichwould help her to avert the parting with her own house undercircumstances thoroughly disagreeable to her. As to the untruth in herreply, she no more reflected on it than she did on the untruth therewas in her saying that appearances had very little to do withhappiness. Her object, she was convinced, was thoroughly justifiable:it was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and there was a plan inher mind which, when she had carried it out fully, would prove how veryfalse a step it would have been for him to have descended from hisposition.

  She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's
office, meaning to callthere. It was the first time in her life that Rosamond had thought ofdoing anything in the form of business, but she felt equal to theoccasion. That she should be obliged to do what she intenselydisliked, was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into activeinvention. Here was a case in which it could not be enough simply todisobey and be serenely, placidly obstinate: she must act according toher judgment, and she said to herself that her judgment wasright--"indeed, if it had not been, she would not have wished to act onit."

  Mr. Trumbull was in the back-room of his office, and received Rosamondwith his finest manners, not only because he had much sensibility toher charms, but because the good-natured fibre in him was stirred byhis certainty that Lydgate was in difficulties, and that thisuncommonly pretty woman--this young lady with the highest personalattractions--was likely to feel the pinch of trouble--to find herselfinvolved in circumstances beyond her control. He begged her to do himthe honor to take a seat, and stood before her trimming and comportinghimself with an eager solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent.Rosamond's first question was, whether her husband had called on Mr.Trumbull that morning, to speak about disposing of their house.

  "Yes, ma'am, yes, he did; he did so," said the good auctioneer, tryingto throw something soothing into his iteration. "I was about to fulfilhis order, if possible, this afternoon. He wished me not toprocrastinate."

  "I called to tell you not to go any further, Mr. Trumbull; and I beg ofyou not to mention what has been said on the subject. Will you obligeme?"

  "Certainly I will, Mrs. Lydgate, certainly. Confidence is sacred withme on business or any other topic. I am then to consider thecommission withdrawn?" said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long ends ofhis blue cravat with both hands, and looking at Rosamond deferentially.

  "Yes, if you please. I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house--theone in St. Peter's Place next to Mr. Hackbutt's. Mr. Lydgate would beannoyed that his orders should be fulfilled uselessly. And besidesthat, there are other circumstances which render the proposalunnecessary."

  "Very good, Mrs. Lydgate, very good. I am at your commands, wheneveryou require any service of me," said Mr. Trumbull, who felt pleasure inconjecturing that some new resources had been opened. "Rely on me, Ibeg. The affair shall go no further."

  That evening Lydgate was a little comforted by observing that Rosamondwas more lively than she had usually been of late, and even seemedinterested in doing what would please him without being asked. Hethought, "If she will be happy and I can rub through, what does it allsignify? It is only a narrow swamp that we have to pass in a longjourney. If I can get my mind clear again, I shall do."

  He was so much cheered that he began to search for an account ofexperiments which he had long ago meant to look up, and had neglectedout of that creeping self-despair which comes in the train of pettyanxieties. He felt again some of the old delightful absorption in afar-reaching inquiry, while Rosamond played the quiet music which wasas helpful to his meditation as the plash of an oar on the eveninglake. It was rather late; he had pushed away all the books, and waslooking at the fire with his hands clasped behind his head inforgetfulness of everything except the construction of a newcontrolling experiment, when Rosamond, who had left the piano and wasleaning back in her chair watching him, said--

  "Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house already."

  Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked up in silence for a moment, like aman who has been disturbed in his sleep. Then flushing with anunpleasant consciousness, he asked--

  "How do you know?"

  "I called at Mrs. Plymdale's this morning, and she told me that he hadtaken the house in St. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hackbutt's."

  Lydgate was silent. He drew his hands from behind his head and pressedthem against the hair which was hanging, as it was apt to do, in a masson his forehead, while he rested his elbows on his knees. He wasfeeling bitter disappointment, as if he had opened a door out of asuffocating place and had found it walled up; but he also felt surethat Rosamond was pleased with the cause of his disappointment. Hepreferred not looking at her and not speaking, until he had got overthe first spasm of vexation. After all, he said in his bitterness,what can a woman care about so much as house and furniture? a husbandwithout them is an absurdity. When he looked up and pushed his hairaside, his dark eyes had a miserable blank non-expectance of sympathyin them, but he only said, coolly--

  "Perhaps some one else may turn up. I told Trumbull to be on thelook-out if he failed with Plymdale."

  Rosamond made no remark. She trusted to the chance that nothing morewould pass between her husband and the auctioneer until some issueshould have justified her interference; at any rate, she had hinderedthe event which she immediately dreaded. After a pause, she said--

  "How much money is it that those disagreeable people want?"

  "What disagreeable people?"

  "Those who took the list--and the others. I mean, how much money wouldsatisfy them so that you need not be troubled any more?"

  Lydgate surveyed her for a moment, as if he were looking for symptoms,and then said, "Oh, if I could have got six hundred from Plymdale forfurniture and as premium, I might have managed. I could have paid offDover, and given enough on account to the others to make them waitpatiently, if we contracted our expenses."

  "But I mean how much should you want if we stayed in this house?"

  "More than I am likely to get anywhere," said Lydgate, with rather agrating sarcasm in his tone. It angered him to perceive thatRosamond's mind was wandering over impracticable wishes instead offacing possible efforts.

  "Why should you not mention the sum?" said Rosamond, with a mildindication that she did not like his manners.

  "Well," said Lydgate in a guessing tone, "it would take at least athousand to set me at ease. But," he added, incisively, "I have toconsider what I shall do without it, not with it."

  Rosamond said no more.

  But the next day she carried out her plan of writing to Sir GodwinLydgate. Since the Captain's visit, she had received a letter fromhim, and also one from Mrs. Mengan, his married sister, condoling withher on the loss of her baby, and expressing vaguely the hope that theyshould see her again at Quallingham. Lydgate had told her that thispoliteness meant nothing; but she was secretly convinced that anybackwardness in Lydgate's family towards him was due to his cold andcontemptuous behavior, and she had answered the letters in her mostcharming manner, feeling some confidence that a specific invitationwould follow. But there had been total silence. The Captain evidentlywas not a great penman, and Rosamond reflected that the sisters mighthave been abroad. However, the season was come for thinking of friendsat home, and at any rate Sir Godwin, who had chucked her under thechin, and pronounced her to be like the celebrated beauty, Mrs. Croly,who had made a conquest of him in 1790, would be touched by any appealfrom her, and would find it pleasant for her sake to behave as he oughtto do towards his nephew. Rosamond was naively convinced of what anold gentleman ought to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance. Andshe wrote what she considered the most judicious letter possible--onewhich would strike Sir Godwin as a proof of her excellent sense--pointingout how desirable it was that Tertius should quit such a placeas Middlemarch for one more fitted to his talents, how the unpleasantcharacter of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, andhow in consequence he was in money difficulties, from which it wouldrequire a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him. She did not saythat Tertius was unaware of her intention to write; for she had theidea that his supposed sanction of her letter would be in accordancewith what she did say of his great regard for his uncle Godwin as therelative who had always been his best friend. Such was the force ofPoor Rosamond's tactics now she applied them to affairs.

  This had happened before the party on New Year's Day, and no answer hadyet come from Sir Godwin. But on the morning of that day Lydgate hadto learn that Rosamond had revoked his order to Borthrop Trumbull.Feeling it necessary t
hat she should be gradually accustomed to theidea of their quitting the house in Lowick Gate, he overcame hisreluctance to speak to her again on the subject, and when they werebreakfasting said--

  "I shall try to see Trumbull this morning, and tell him to advertisethe house in the 'Pioneer' and the 'Trumpet.' If the thing wereadvertised, some one might be inclined to take it who would nototherwise have thought of a change. In these country places manypeople go on in their old houses when their families are too large forthem, for want of knowing where they can find another. And Trumbullseems to have got no bite at all."

  Rosamond knew that the inevitable moment was come. "I ordered Trumbullnot to inquire further," she said, with a careful calmness which wasevidently defensive.

  Lydgate stared at her in mute amazement. Only half an hour before hehad been fastening up her plaits for her, and talking the "littlelanguage" of affection, which Rosamond, though not returning it,accepted as if she had been a serene and lovely image, now and thenmiraculously dimpling towards her votary. With such fibres still astirin him, the shock he received could not at once be distinctly anger; itwas confused pain. He laid down the knife and fork with which he wascarving, and throwing himself back in his chair, said at last, with acool irony in his tone--

  "May I ask when and why you did so?"

  "When I knew that the Plymdales had taken a house, I called to tell himnot to mention ours to them; and at the same time I told him not to letthe affair go on any further. I knew that it would be very injuriousto you if it were known that you wished to part with your house andfurniture, and I had a very strong objection to it. I think that wasreason enough."

  "It was of no consequence then that I had told you imperative reasonsof another kind; of no consequence that I had come to a differentconclusion, and given an order accordingly?" said Lydgate, bitingly,the thunder and lightning gathering about his brow and eyes.

  The effect of any one's anger on Rosamond had always been to make hershrink in cold dislike, and to become all the more calmly correct, inthe conviction that she was not the person to misbehave whatever othersmight do. She replied--

  "I think I had a perfect right to speak on a subject which concerns meat least as much as you."

  "Clearly--you had a right to speak, but only to me. You had no rightto contradict my orders secretly, and treat me as if I were a fool,"said Lydgate, in the same tone as before. Then with some added scorn,"Is it possible to make you understand what the consequences will be?Is it of any use for me to tell you again why we must try to part withthe house?"

  "It is not necessary for you to tell me again," said Rosamond, in avoice that fell and trickled like cold water-drops. "I remembered whatyou said. You spoke just as violently as you do now. But that doesnot alter my opinion that you ought to try every other means ratherthan take a step which is so painful to me. And as to advertising thehouse, I think it would be perfectly degrading to you."

  "And suppose I disregard your opinion as you disregard mine?"

  "You can do so, of course. But I think you ought to have told mebefore we were married that you would place me in the worst position,rather than give up your own will."

  Lydgate did not speak, but tossed his head on one side, and twitchedthe corners of his mouth in despair. Rosamond, seeing that he was notlooking at her, rose and set his cup of coffee before him; but he tookno notice of it, and went on with an inward drama and argument,occasionally moving in his seat, resting one arm on the table, andrubbing his hand against his hair. There was a conflux of emotions andthoughts in him that would not let him either give thorough way to hisanger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Rosamond tookadvantage of his silence.

  "When we were married everyone felt that your position was very high.I could not have imagined then that you would want to sell ourfurniture, and take a house in Bride Street, where the rooms are likecages. If we are to live in that way let us at least leaveMiddlemarch."

  "These would be very strong considerations," said Lydgate, halfironically--still there was a withered paleness about his lips as helooked at his coffee, and did not drink--"these would be very strongconsiderations if I did not happen to be in debt."

  "Many persons must have been in debt in the same way, but if they arerespectable, people trust them. I am sure I have heard papa say thatthe Torbits were in debt, and they went on very well. It cannot begood to act rashly," said Rosamond, with serene wisdom.

  Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning he couldapply to Rosamond seemed likely to conquer her assent, he wanted tosmash and grind some object on which he could at least produce animpression, or else to tell her brutally that he was master, and shemust obey. But he not only dreaded the effect of such extremities ontheir mutual life--he had a growing dread of Rosamond's quiet elusiveobstinacy, which would not allow any assertion of power to be final;and again, she had touched him in a spot of keenest feeling by implyingthat she had been deluded with a false vision of happiness in marryinghim. As to saying that he was master, it was not the fact. The veryresolution to which he had wrought himself by dint of logic andhonorable pride was beginning to relax under her torpedo contact. Heswallowed half his cup of coffee, and then rose to go.

  "I may at least request that you will not go to Trumbull atpresent--until it has been seen that there are no other means," saidRosamond. Although she was not subject to much fear, she felt it safernot to betray that she had written to Sir Godwin. "Promise me that youwill not go to him for a few weeks, or without telling me."

  Lydgate gave a short laugh. "I think it is I who should exact apromise that you will do nothing without telling me," he said, turninghis eyes sharply upon her, and then moving to the door.

  "You remember that we are going to dine at papa's," said Rosamond,wishing that he should turn and make a more thorough concession to her.But he only said "Oh yes," impatiently, and went away. She held it tobe very odious in him that he did not think the painful propositions hehad had to make to her were enough, without showing so unpleasant atemper. And when she put the moderate request that he would defergoing to Trumbull again, it was cruel in him not to assure her of whathe meant to do. She was convinced of her having acted in every way forthe best; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's served only asan addition to the register of offences in her mind. Poor Rosamond formonths had begun to associate her husband with feelings ofdisappointment, and the terribly inflexible relation of marriage hadlost its charm of encouraging delightful dreams. It had freed her fromthe disagreeables of her father's house, but it had not given hereverything that she had wished and hoped. The Lydgate with whom shehad been in love had been a group of airy conditions for her, most ofwhich had disappeared, while their place had been taken by every-daydetails which must be lived through slowly from hour to hour, notfloated through with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. Thehabits of Lydgate's profession, his home preoccupation with scientificsubjects, which seemed to her almost like a morbid vampire's taste, hispeculiar views of things which had never entered into the dialogue ofcourtship--all these continually alienating influences, even withoutthe fact of his having placed himself at a disadvantage in the town,and without that first shock of revelation about Dover's debt, wouldhave made his presence dull to her. There was another presence whichever since the early days of her marriage, until four months ago, hadbeen an agreeable excitement, but that was gone: Rosamond would notconfess to herself how much the consequent blank had to do with herutter ennui; and it seemed to her (perhaps she was right) that aninvitation to Quallingham, and an opening for Lydgate to settleelsewhere than in Middlemarch--in London, or somewhere likely to befree from unpleasantness--would satisfy her quite well, and make herindifferent to the absence of Will Ladislaw, towards whom she felt someresentment for his exaltation of Mrs. Casaubon.

  That was the state of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the NewYear's Day when they dined at her father's, she looking mildly neutraltowards him in remembr
ance of his ill-tempered behavior at breakfast,and he carrying a much deeper effect from the inward conflict in whichthat morning scene was only one of many epochs. His flushed effortwhile talking to Mr. Farebrother--his effort after the cynical pretencethat all ways of getting money are essentially the same, and thatchance has an empire which reduces choice to a fool's illusion--was butthe symptom of a wavering resolve, a benumbed response to the oldstimuli of enthusiasm.

  What was he to do? He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did thedreariness of taking her into the small house in Bride Street, whereshe would have scanty furniture around her and discontent within: alife of privation and life with Rosamond were two images which hadbecome more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privationhad disclosed itself. But even if his resolves had forced the twoimages into combination, the useful preliminaries to that hard changewere not visibly within reach. And though he had not given the promisewhich his wife had asked for, he did not go again to Trumbull. He evenbegan to think of taking a rapid journey to the North and seeing SirGodwin. He had once believed that nothing would urge him into makingan application for money to his uncle, but he had not then known thefull pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. He could notdepend on the effect of a letter; it was only in an interview, howeverdisagreeable this might be to himself, that he could give a thoroughexplanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship. No sooner hadLydgate begun to represent this step to himself as the easiest thanthere was a reaction of anger that he--he who had long ago determinedto live aloof from such abject calculations, such self-interestedanxiety about the inclinations and the pockets of men with whom he hadbeen proud to have no aims in common--should have fallen not simply totheir level, but to the level of soliciting them.