by George Eliot
Chapter XLIX
At the Hall Farm
THE first autumnal afternoon sunshine of 1801--more than eighteen monthsafter that parting of Adam and Arthur in the Hermitage--was on theyard at the Hall Farm; and the bull-dog was in one of his most excitedmoments, for it was that hour of the day when the cows were being driveninto the yard for their afternoon milking. No wonder the patient beastsran confusedly into the wrong places, for the alarming din of thebull-dog was mingled with more distant sounds which the timid femininecreatures, with pardonable superstition, imagined also to have somerelation to their own movements--with the tremendous crack of thewaggoner's whip, the roar of his voice, and the booming thunder of thewaggon, as it left the rick-yard empty of its golden load.
The milking of the cows was a sight Mrs. Poyser loved, and at thishour on mild days she was usually standing at the house door, with herknitting in her hands, in quiet contemplation, only heightened to akeener interest when the vicious yellow cow, who had once kicked over apailful of precious milk, was about to undergo the preventive punishmentof having her hinder-legs strapped.
To-day, however, Mrs. Poyser gave but a divided attention to thearrival of the cows, for she was in eager discussion with Dinah, who wasstitching Mr. Poyser's shirt-collars, and had borne patiently to haveher thread broken three times by Totty pulling at her arm with a suddeninsistence that she should look at "Baby," that is, at a large woodendoll with no legs and a long skirt, whose bald head Totty, seated in hersmall chair at Dinah's side, was caressing and pressing to her fat cheekwith much fervour. Totty is larger by more than two years' growth thanwhen you first saw her, and she has on a black frock under her pinafore.Mrs. Poyser too has on a black gown, which seems to heighten the familylikeness between her and Dinah. In other respects there is littleoutward change now discernible in our old friends, or in the pleasanthouse-place, bright with polished oak and pewter.
"I never saw the like to you, Dinah," Mrs. Poyser was saying, "whenyou've once took anything into your head: there's no more moving youthan the rooted tree. You may say what you like, but I don't believethat's religion for what's the Sermon on the Mount about, as you're sofond o' reading to the boys, but doing what other folks 'ud have you do?But if it was anything unreasonable they wanted you to do, like takingyour cloak off and giving it to 'em, or letting 'em slap you i' theface, I daresay you'd be ready enough. It's only when one 'ud have youdo what's plain common sense and good for yourself, as you're obstinateth' other way."
"Nay, dear Aunt," said Dinah, smiling slightly as she went on with herwork, "I'm sure your wish 'ud be a reason for me to do anything that Ididn't feel it was wrong to do."
"Wrong! You drive me past bearing. What is there wrong, I should liketo know, i' staying along wi' your own friends, as are th' happier forhaving you with 'em an' are willing to provide for you, even if yourwork didn't more nor pay 'em for the bit o' sparrow's victual y' eatand the bit o' rag you put on? An' who is it, I should like to know, asyou're bound t' help and comfort i' the world more nor your own fleshand blood--an' me th' only aunt you've got above-ground, an' am broughtto the brink o' the grave welly every winter as comes, an' there's thechild as sits beside you 'ull break her little heart when you go, an'the grandfather not been dead a twelvemonth, an' your uncle 'ull missyou so as never was--a-lighting his pipe an' waiting on him, an' now Ican trust you wi' the butter, an' have had all the trouble o' teachingyou, and there's all the sewing to be done, an' I must have a strangegell out o' Treddles'on to do it--an' all because you must go back tothat bare heap o' stones as the very crows fly over an' won't stop at."
"Dear Aunt Rachel," said Dinah, looking up in Mrs. Poyser's face, "it'syour kindness makes you say I'm useful to you. You don't really want menow, for Nancy and Molly are clever at their work, and you're in goodhealth now, by the blessing of God, and my uncle is of a cheerfulcountenance again, and you have neighbours and friends not a few--someof them come to sit with my uncle almost daily. Indeed, you will notmiss me; and at Snowfield there are brethren and sisters in great need,who have none of those comforts you have around you. I feel that I amcalled back to those amongst whom my lot was first cast. I feel drawnagain towards the hills where I used to be blessed in carrying the wordof life to the sinful and desolate."
"You feel! Yes," said Mrs. Poyser, returning from a parenthetic glanceat the cows, "that's allays the reason I'm to sit down wi', when you'vea mind to do anything contrairy. What do you want to be preaching formore than you're preaching now? Don't you go off, the Lord knows where,every Sunday a-preaching and praying? An' haven't you got Methodistsenow at Treddles'on to go and look at, if church-folks's faces are toohandsome to please you? An' isn't there them i' this parish as you'vegot under hand, and they're like enough to make friends wi' Old Harryagain as soon as your back's turned? There's that Bessy Cranage--she'llbe flaunting i' new finery three weeks after you're gone, I'll be bound.She'll no more go on in her new ways without you than a dog 'ull standon its hind-legs when there's nobody looking. But I suppose it doesnamatter so much about folks's souls i' this country, else you'd be forstaying with your own aunt, for she's none so good but what you mighthelp her to be better."
There was a certain something in Mrs. Poyser's voice just then, whichshe did not wish to be noticed, so she turned round hastily to look atthe clock, and said: "See there! It's tea-time; an' if Martin's i' therick-yard, he'll like a cup. Here, Totty, my chicken, let mother putyour bonnet on, and then you go out into the rick-yard and see ifFather's there, and tell him he mustn't go away again without coming t'have a cup o' tea; and tell your brothers to come in too."
Totty trotted off in her flapping bonnet, while Mrs. Poyser set out thebright oak table and reached down the tea-cups.
"You talk o' them gells Nancy and Molly being clever i' their work,"she began again; "it's fine talking. They're all the same, clever orstupid--one can't trust 'em out o' one's sight a minute. They wantsomebody's eye on 'em constant if they're to be kept to their work.An' suppose I'm ill again this winter, as I was the winter before last?Who's to look after 'em then, if you're gone? An' there's that blessedchild--something's sure t' happen to her--they'll let her tumble intothe fire, or get at the kettle wi' the boiling lard in't, or somemischief as 'ull lame her for life; an' it'll be all your fault, Dinah."
"Aunt," said Dinah, "I promise to come back to you in the winter ifyou're ill. Don't think I will ever stay away from you if you're in realwant of me. But, indeed, it is needful for my own soul that I should goaway from this life of ease and luxury in which I have all things toorichly to enjoy--at least that I should go away for a short space. Noone can know but myself what are my inward needs, and the besetments Iam most in danger from. Your wish for me to stay is not a call of dutywhich I refuse to hearken to because it is against my own desires; itis a temptation that I must resist, lest the love of the creature shouldbecome like a mist in my soul shutting out the heavenly light."
"It passes my cunning to know what you mean by ease and luxury," saidMrs. Poyser, as she cut the bread and butter. "It's true there's goodvictual enough about you, as nobody shall ever say I don't provideenough and to spare, but if there's ever a bit o' odds an' ends asnobody else 'ud eat, you're sure to pick it out...but look there!There's Adam Bede a-carrying the little un in. I wonder how it is he'scome so early."
Mrs. Poyser hastened to the door for the pleasure of looking at herdarling in a new position, with love in her eyes but reproof on hertongue.
"Oh for shame, Totty! Little gells o' five year old should be ashamed tobe carried. Why, Adam, she'll break your arm, such a big gell as that;set her down--for shame!"
"Nay, nay," said Adam, "I can lift her with my hand--I've no need totake my arm to it."
Totty, looking as serenely unconscious of remark as a fat white puppy,was set down at the door-place, and the mother enforced her reproof witha shower of kisses.
"You're surprised to see me at this hour o' the day," said Adam.
"Yes, but come in,"
said Mrs. Poyser, making way for him; "there's nobad news, I hope?"
"No, nothing bad," Adam answered, as he went up to Dinah and put out hishand to her. She had laid down her work and stood up, instinctively, ashe approached her. A faint blush died away from her pale cheek as sheput her hand in his and looked up at him timidly.
"It's an errand to you brought me, Dinah," said Adam, apparentlyunconscious that he was holding her hand all the while; "mother's a bitailing, and she's set her heart on your coming to stay the night withher, if you'll be so kind. I told her I'd call and ask you as I camefrom the village. She overworks herself, and I can't persuade her tohave a little girl t' help her. I don't know what's to be done."
Adam released Dinah's hand as he ceased speaking, and was expecting ananswer, but before she had opened her lips Mrs. Poyser said, "Look therenow! I told you there was folks enow t' help i' this parish, wi'outgoing further off. There's Mrs. Bede getting as old and cas'alty as canbe, and she won't let anybody but you go a-nigh her hardly. The folks atSnowfield have learnt by this time to do better wi'out you nor she can."
"I'll put my bonnet on and set off directly, if you don't want anythingdone first, Aunt," said Dinah, folding up her work.
"Yes, I do want something done. I want you t' have your tea, child; it'sall ready--and you'll have a cup, Adam, if y' arena in too big a hurry."
"Yes, I'll have a cup, please; and then I'll walk with Dinah. I'm goingstraight home, for I've got a lot o' timber valuations to write out."
"Why, Adam, lad, are you here?" said Mr. Poyser, entering warm andcoatless, with the two black-eyed boys behind him, still looking as muchlike him as two small elephants are like a large one. "How is it we'vegot sight o' you so long before foddering-time?"
"I came on an errand for Mother," said Adam. "She's got a touch of herold complaint, and she wants Dinah to go and stay with her a bit."
"Well, we'll spare her for your mother a little while," said Mr. Poyser."But we wonna spare her for anybody else, on'y her husband."
"Husband!" said Marty, who was at the most prosaic and literal period ofthe boyish mind. "Why, Dinah hasn't got a husband."
"Spare her?" said Mrs. Poyser, placing a seed-cake on the table and thenseating herself to pour out the tea. "But we must spare her, it seems,and not for a husband neither, but for her own megrims. Tommy, what areyou doing to your little sister's doll? Making the child naughty, whenshe'd be good if you'd let her. You shanna have a morsel o' cake if youbehave so."
Tommy, with true brotherly sympathy, was amusing himself by turningDolly's skirt over her bald head and exhibiting her truncated body tothe general scorn--an indignity which cut Totty to the heart.
"What do you think Dinah's been a-telling me since dinner-time?" Mrs.Poyser continued, looking at her husband.
"Eh! I'm a poor un at guessing," said Mr. Poyser.
"Why, she means to go back to Snowfield again, and work i' the mill,and starve herself, as she used to do, like a creatur as has got nofriends."
Mr. Poyser did not readily find words to express his unpleasantastonishment; he only looked from his wife to Dinah, who had now seatedherself beside Totty, as a bulwark against brotherly playfulness, andwas busying herself with the children's tea. If he had been given tomaking general reflections, it would have occurred to him that there wascertainly a change come over Dinah, for she never used to change colour;but, as it was, he merely observed that her face was flushed at thatmoment. Mr. Poyser thought she looked the prettier for it: it wasa flush no deeper than the petal of a monthly rose. Perhaps it camebecause her uncle was looking at her so fixedly; but there is noknowing, for just then Adam was saying, with quiet surprise, "Why, Ihoped Dinah was settled among us for life. I thought she'd given up thenotion o' going back to her old country."
"Thought! Yes," said Mrs. Poyser, "and so would anybody else ha'thought, as had got their right end up'ards. But I suppose you must bea Methodist to know what a Methodist 'ull do. It's ill guessing what thebats are flying after."
"Why, what have we done to you. Dinah, as you must go away from us?"said Mr. Poyser, still pausing over his tea-cup. "It's like breakingyour word, welly, for your aunt never had no thought but you'd make thisyour home."
"Nay, Uncle," said Dinah, trying to be quite calm. "When I first came, Isaid it was only for a time, as long as I could be of any comfort to myaunt."
"Well, an' who said you'd ever left off being a comfort to me?" saidMrs. Poyser. "If you didna mean to stay wi' me, you'd better never ha'come. Them as ha' never had a cushion don't miss it."
"Nay, nay," said Mr. Poyser, who objected to exaggerated views. "Theemustna say so; we should ha' been ill off wi'out her, Lady day was atwelvemont'. We mun be thankful for that, whether she stays or no. ButI canna think what she mun leave a good home for, to go back int' acountry where the land, most on't, isna worth ten shillings an acre,rent and profits."
"Why, that's just the reason she wants to go, as fur as she can give areason," said Mrs. Poyser. "She says this country's too comfortable,an' there's too much t' eat, an' folks arena miserable enough. And she'sgoing next week. I canna turn her, say what I will. It's allays the waywi' them meek-faced people; you may's well pelt a bag o' feathers astalk to 'em. But I say it isna religion, to be so obstinate--is it now,Adam?"
Adam saw that Dinah was more disturbed than he had ever seen her by anymatter relating to herself, and, anxious to relieve her, if possible,he said, looking at her affectionately, "Nay, I can't find fault withanything Dinah does. I believe her thoughts are better than our guesses,let 'em be what they may. I should ha' been thankful for her to stayamong us, but if she thinks well to go, I wouldn't cross her, or make ithard to her by objecting. We owe her something different to that."
As it often happens, the words intended to relieve her were just toomuch for Dinah's susceptible feelings at this moment. The tears cameinto the grey eyes too fast to be hidden and she got up hurriedly,meaning it to be understood that she was going to put on her bonnet.
"Mother, what's Dinah crying for?" said Totty. "She isn't a naughtydell."
"Thee'st gone a bit too fur," said Mr. Poyser. "We've no right t'interfere with her doing as she likes. An' thee'dst be as angry as couldbe wi' me, if I said a word against anything she did."
"Because you'd very like be finding fault wi'out reason," said Mrs.Poyser. "But there's reason i' what I say, else I shouldna say it. It'seasy talking for them as can't love her so well as her own aunt does.An' me got so used to her! I shall feel as uneasy as a new sheared sheepwhen she's gone from me. An' to think of her leaving a parish whereshe's so looked on. There's Mr. Irwine makes as much of her as ifshe was a lady, for all her being a Methodist, an' wi' that maggot o'preaching in her head--God forgi'e me if I'm i' the wrong to call itso."
"Aye," said Mr. Poyser, looking jocose; "but thee dostna tell Adam whathe said to thee about it one day. The missis was saying, Adam, as thepreaching was the only fault to be found wi' Dinah, and Mr. Irwine says,'But you mustn't find fault with her for that, Mrs. Poyser; you forgetshe's got no husband to preach to. I'll answer for it, you give Poysermany a good sermon.' The parson had thee there," Mr. Poyser added,laughing unctuously. "I told Bartle Massey on it, an' he laughed too."
"Yes, it's a small joke sets men laughing when they sit a-staring atone another with a pipe i' their mouths," said Mrs. Poyser. "GiveBartle Massey his way and he'd have all the sharpness to himself. Ifthe chaff-cutter had the making of us, we should all be straw, I reckon.Totty, my chicken, go upstairs to cousin Dinah, and see what she'sdoing, and give her a pretty kiss."
This errand was devised for Totty as a means of checking certainthreatening symptoms about the corners of the mouth; for Tommy,no longer expectant of cake, was lifting up his eyelids with hisforefingers and turning his eyeballs towards Totty in a way that shefelt to be disagreeably personal.
"You're rare and busy now--eh, Adam?" said Mr. Poyser. "Burge's gettingso bad wi' his asthmy, it's well if he'll ever do much riding aboutagain."<
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"Yes, we've got a pretty bit o' building on hand now," said Adam, "whatwith the repairs on th' estate, and the new houses at Treddles'on."
"I'll bet a penny that new house Burge is building on his own bit o'land is for him and Mary to go to," said Mr. Poyser. "He'll be forlaying by business soon, I'll warrant, and be wanting you to take to itall and pay him so much by th' 'ear. We shall see you living on th' hillbefore another twelvemont's over."
"Well," said Adam, "I should like t' have the business in my own hands.It isn't as I mind much about getting any more money. We've enough andto spare now, with only our two selves and mother; but I should liket' have my own way about things--I could try plans then, as I can't donow."
"You get on pretty well wi' the new steward, I reckon?" said Mr. Poyser.
"Yes, yes; he's a sensible man enough; understands farming--he'scarrying on the draining, and all that, capital. You must go some daytowards the Stonyshire side and see what alterations they're making. Buthe's got no notion about buildings. You can so seldom get hold of a manas can turn his brains to more nor one thing; it's just as if they woreblinkers like th' horses and could see nothing o' one side of 'em. Now,there's Mr. Irwine has got notions o' building more nor most architects;for as for th' architects, they set up to be fine fellows, but the mostof 'em don't know where to set a chimney so as it shan't be quarrellingwith a door. My notion is, a practical builder that's got a bit o'taste makes the best architect for common things; and I've ten times thepleasure i' seeing after the work when I've made the plan myself."
Mr. Poyser listened with an admiring interest to Adam's discourse onbuilding, but perhaps it suggested to him that the building of hiscorn-rick had been proceeding a little too long without the control ofthe master's eye, for when Adam had done speaking, he got up and said,"Well, lad, I'll bid you good-bye now, for I'm off to the rick-yardagain."
Adam rose too, for he saw Dinah entering, with her bonnet on and alittle basket in her hand, preceded by Totty.
"You're ready, I see, Dinah," Adam said; "so we'll set off, for thesooner I'm at home the better."
"Mother," said Totty, with her treble pipe, "Dinah was saying herprayers and crying ever so."
"Hush, hush," said the mother, "little gells mustn't chatter."
Whereupon the father, shaking with silent laughter, set Totty on thewhite deal table and desired her to kiss him. Mr. and Mrs. Poyser, youperceive, had no correct principles of education.
"Come back to-morrow if Mrs. Bede doesn't want you, Dinah," said Mrs.Poyser: "but you can stay, you know, if she's ill."
So, when the good-byes had been said, Dinah and Adam left the Hall Farmtogether.
