Middlemarch

by George Eliot

  CHAPTER LVI.

  "How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his only skill! . . . . . . . This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall; Lord of himself though not of lands; And having nothing yet hath all." --SIR HENRY WOTTON.

  Dorothea's confidence in Caleb Garth's knowledge, which had begun onher hearing that he approved of her cottages, had grown fast during herstay at Freshitt, Sir James having induced her to take rides over thetwo estates in company with himself and Caleb, who quite returned heradmiration, and told his wife that Mrs. Casaubon had a head forbusiness most uncommon in a woman. It must be remembered that by"business" Caleb never meant money transactions, but the skilfulapplication of labor.

  "Most uncommon!" repeated Caleb. "She said a thing I often used tothink myself when I was a lad:--'Mr. Garth, I should like to feel, if Ilived to be old, that I had improved a great piece of land and built agreat many good cottages, because the work is of a healthy kind whileit is being done, and after it is done, men are the better for it.'Those were the very words: she sees into things in that way."

  "But womanly, I hope," said Mrs. Garth, half suspecting that Mrs.Casaubon might not hold the true principle of subordination.

  "Oh, you can't think!" said Caleb, shaking his head. "You would liketo hear her speak, Susan. She speaks in such plain words, and a voicelike music. Bless me! it reminds me of bits in the 'Messiah'--'andstraightway there appeared a multitude of the heavenly host, praisingGod and saying;' it has a tone with it that satisfies your ear."

  Caleb was very fond of music, and when he could afford it went to hearan oratorio that came within his reach, returning from it with aprofound reverence for this mighty structure of tones, which made himsit meditatively, looking on the floor and throwing much unutterablelanguage into his outstretched hands.

  With this good understanding between them, it was natural that Dorotheaasked Mr. Garth to undertake any business connected with the threefarms and the numerous tenements attached to Lowick Manor; indeed, hisexpectation of getting work for two was being fast fulfilled. As hesaid, "Business breeds." And one form of business which was beginningto breed just then was the construction of railways. A projected linewas to run through Lowick parish where the cattle had hitherto grazedin a peace unbroken by astonishment; and thus it happened that theinfant struggles of the railway system entered into the affairs ofCaleb Garth, and determined the course of this history with regard totwo persons who were dear to him. The submarine railway may have itsdifficulties; but the bed of the sea is not divided among variouslanded proprietors with claims for damages not only measurable butsentimental. In the hundred to which Middlemarch belonged railwayswere as exciting a topic as the Reform Bill or the imminent horrors ofCholera, and those who held the most decided views on the subject werewomen and landholders. Women both old and young regarded travelling bysteam as presumptuous and dangerous, and argued against it by sayingthat nothing should induce them to get into a railway carriage; whileproprietors, differing from each other in their arguments as much asMr. Solomon Featherstone differed from Lord Medlicote, were yetunanimous in the opinion that in selling land, whether to the Enemy ofmankind or to a company obliged to purchase, these pernicious agenciesmust be made to pay a very high price to landowners for permission toinjure mankind.

  But the slower wits, such as Mr. Solomon and Mrs. Waule, who bothoccupied land of their own, took a long time to arrive at thisconclusion, their minds halting at the vivid conception of what itwould be to cut the Big Pasture in two, and turn it into three-corneredbits, which would be "nohow;" while accommodation-bridges and highpayments were remote and incredible.

  "The cows will all cast their calves, brother," said Mrs. Waule, in atone of deep melancholy, "if the railway comes across the Near Close;and I shouldn't wonder at the mare too, if she was in foal. It's apoor tale if a widow's property is to be spaded away, and the law saynothing to it. What's to hinder 'em from cutting right and left ifthey begin? It's well known, _I_ can't fight."

  "The best way would be to say nothing, and set somebody on to send 'emaway with a flea in their ear, when they came spying and measuring,"said Solomon. "Folks did that about Brassing, by what I canunderstand. It's all a pretence, if the truth was known, about theirbeing forced to take one way. Let 'em go cutting in another parish.And I don't believe in any pay to make amends for bringing a lot ofruffians to trample your crops. Where's a company's pocket?"

  "Brother Peter, God forgive him, got money out of a company," said Mrs.Waule. "But that was for the manganese. That wasn't for railways toblow you to pieces right and left."

  "Well, there's this to be said, Jane," Mr. Solomon concluded, loweringhis voice in a cautious manner--"the more spokes we put in their wheel,the more they'll pay us to let 'em go on, if they must come whether ornot."

  This reasoning of Mr. Solomon's was perhaps less thorough than heimagined, his cunning bearing about the same relation to the course ofrailways as the cunning of a diplomatist bears to the general chill orcatarrh of the solar system. But he set about acting on his views in athoroughly diplomatic manner, by stimulating suspicion. His side ofLowick was the most remote from the village, and the houses of thelaboring people were either lone cottages or were collected in a hamletcalled Frick, where a water-mill and some stone-pits made a littlecentre of slow, heavy-shouldered industry.

  In the absence of any precise idea as to what railways were, publicopinion in Frick was against them; for the human mind in that grassycorner had not the proverbial tendency to admire the unknown, holdingrather that it was likely to be against the poor man, and thatsuspicion was the only wise attitude with regard to it. Even the rumorof Reform had not yet excited any millennial expectations in Frick,there being no definite promise in it, as of gratuitous grains tofatten Hiram Ford's pig, or of a publican at the "Weights and Scales"who would brew beer for nothing, or of an offer on the part of thethree neighboring farmers to raise wages during winter. And withoutdistinct good of this kind in its promises, Reform seemed on a footingwith the bragging of pedlers, which was a hint for distrust to everyknowing person. The men of Frick were not ill-fed, and were less givento fanaticism than to a strong muscular suspicion; less inclined tobelieve that they were peculiarly cared for by heaven, than to regardheaven itself as rather disposed to take them in--a dispositionobservable in the weather.

  Thus the mind of Frick was exactly of the sort for Mr. SolomonFeatherstone to work upon, he having more plenteous ideas of the sameorder, with a suspicion of heaven and earth which was better fed andmore entirely at leisure. Solomon was overseer of the roads at thattime, and on his slow-paced cob often took his rounds by Frick to lookat the workmen getting the stones there, pausing with a mysteriousdeliberation, which might have misled you into supposing that he hadsome other reason for staying than the mere want of impulse to move.After looking for a long while at any work that was going on, he wouldraise his eyes a little and look at the horizon; finally he would shakehis bridle, touch his horse with the whip, and get it to move slowlyonward. The hour-hand of a clock was quick by comparison with Mr.Solomon, who had an agreeable sense that he could afford to be slow.He was in the habit of pausing for a cautious, vaguely designing chatwith every hedger or ditcher on his way, and was especially willing tolisten even to news which he had heard before, feeling himself at anadvantage over all narrators in partially disbelieving them. One day,however, he got into a dialogue with Hiram Ford, a wagoner, in which hehimself contributed information. He wished to know whether Hiram hadseen fellows with staves and instruments spying about: they calledthemselves railroad people, but there was no telling what they were orwhat they meant to do. The least they pretended was that they weregoing to cut Lowick Parish into sixes and sevens.

  "Why, there'll be no stirrin' from one pla-ace to another," said Hiram,thinking of hi
s wagon and horses.

  "Not a bit," said Mr. Solomon. "And cutting up fine land such as thisparish! Let 'em go into Tipton, say I. But there's no knowing whatthere is at the bottom of it. Traffic is what they put for'ard; butit's to do harm to the land and the poor man in the long-run."

  "Why, they're Lunnon chaps, I reckon," said Hiram, who had a dim notionof London as a centre of hostility to the country.

  "Ay, to be sure. And in some parts against Brassing, by what I'veheard say, the folks fell on 'em when they were spying, and broke theirpeep-holes as they carry, and drove 'em away, so as they knew betterthan come again."

  "It war good foon, I'd be bound," said Hiram, whose fun was muchrestricted by circumstances.

  "Well, I wouldn't meddle with 'em myself," said Solomon. "But some saythis country's seen its best days, and the sign is, as it's beingoverrun with these fellows trampling right and left, and wanting to cutit up into railways; and all for the big traffic to swallow up thelittle, so as there shan't be a team left on the land, nor a whip tocrack."

  "I'll crack _my_ whip about their ear'n, afore they bring it to that,though," said Hiram, while Mr. Solomon, shaking his bridle, movedonward.

  Nettle-seed needs no digging. The ruin of this countryside byrailroads was discussed, not only at the "Weights and Scales," but inthe hay-field, where the muster of working hands gave opportunities fortalk such as were rarely had through the rural year.

  One morning, not long after that interview between Mr. Farebrother andMary Garth, in which she confessed to him her feeling for Fred Vincy,it happened that her father had some business which took him toYoddrell's farm in the direction of Frick: it was to measure and valuean outlying piece of land belonging to Lowick Manor, which Calebexpected to dispose of advantageously for Dorothea (it must beconfessed that his bias was towards getting the best possible termsfrom railroad companies). He put up his gig at Yoddrell's, and inwalking with his assistant and measuring-chain to the scene of hiswork, he encountered the party of the company's agents, who wereadjusting their spirit-level. After a little chat he left them,observing that by-and-by they would reach him again where he was goingto measure. It was one of those gray mornings after light rains, whichbecome delicious about twelve o'clock, when the clouds part a little,and the scent of the earth is sweet along the lanes and by thehedgerows.

  The scent would have been sweeter to Fred Vincy, who was coming alongthe lanes on horseback, if his mind had not been worried byunsuccessful efforts to imagine what he was to do, with his father onone side expecting him straightway to enter the Church, with Mary onthe other threatening to forsake him if he did enter it, and with theworking-day world showing no eager need whatever of a young gentlemanwithout capital and generally unskilled. It was the harder to Fred'sdisposition because his father, satisfied that he was no longerrebellious, was in good humor with him, and had sent him on thispleasant ride to see after some greyhounds. Even when he had fixed onwhat he should do, there would be the task of telling his father. Butit must be admitted that the fixing, which had to come first, was themore difficult task:--what secular avocation on earth was there for ayoung man (whose friends could not get him an "appointment") which wasat once gentlemanly, lucrative, and to be followed without specialknowledge? Riding along the lanes by Frick in this mood, andslackening his pace while he reflected whether he should venture to goround by Lowick Parsonage to call on Mary, he could see over the hedgesfrom one field to another. Suddenly a noise roused his attention, andon the far side of a field on his left hand he could see six or sevenmen in smock-frocks with hay-forks in their hands making an offensiveapproach towards the four railway agents who were facing them, whileCaleb Garth and his assistant were hastening across the field to jointhe threatened group. Fred, delayed a few moments by having to findthe gate, could not gallop up to the spot before the party insmock-frocks, whose work of turning the hay had not been too pressingafter swallowing their mid-day beer, were driving the men in coatsbefore them with their hay-forks; while Caleb Garth's assistant, a ladof seventeen, who had snatched up the spirit-level at Caleb's order,had been knocked down and seemed to be lying helpless. The coated menhad the advantage as runners, and Fred covered their retreat by gettingin front of the smock-frocks and charging them suddenly enough to throwtheir chase into confusion. "What do you confounded fools mean?"shouted Fred, pursuing the divided group in a zigzag, and cutting rightand left with his whip. "I'll swear to every one of you before themagistrate. You've knocked the lad down and killed him, for what Iknow. You'll every one of you be hanged at the next assizes, if youdon't mind," said Fred, who afterwards laughed heartily as heremembered his own phrases.

  The laborers had been driven through the gate-way into their hay-field,and Fred had checked his horse, when Hiram Ford, observing himself at asafe challenging distance, turned back and shouted a defiance which hedid not know to be Homeric.

  "Yo're a coward, yo are. Yo git off your horse, young measter, andI'll have a round wi' ye, I wull. Yo daredn't come on wi'out your hossan' whip. I'd soon knock the breath out on ye, I would."

  "Wait a minute, and I'll come back presently, and have a round with youall in turn, if you like," said Fred, who felt confidence in his powerof boxing with his dearly beloved brethren. But just now he wanted tohasten back to Caleb and the prostrate youth.

  The lad's ankle was strained, and he was in much pain from it, but hewas no further hurt, and Fred placed him on the horse that he mightride to Yoddrell's and be taken care of there.

  "Let them put the horse in the stable, and tell the surveyors they cancome back for their traps," said Fred. "The ground is clear now."

  "No, no," said Caleb, "here's a breakage. They'll have to give up forto-day, and it will be as well. Here, take the things before you onthe horse, Tom. They'll see you coming, and they'll turn back."

  "I'm glad I happened to be here at the right moment, Mr. Garth," saidFred, as Tom rode away. "No knowing what might have happened if thecavalry had not come up in time."

  "Ay, ay, it was lucky," said Caleb, speaking rather absently, andlooking towards the spot where he had been at work at the moment ofinterruption. "But--deuce take it--this is what comes of men beingfools--I'm hindered of my day's work. I can't get along withoutsomebody to help me with the measuring-chain. However!" He wasbeginning to move towards the spot with a look of vexation, as if hehad forgotten Fred's presence, but suddenly he turned round and saidquickly, "What have you got to do to-day, young fellow?"

  "Nothing, Mr. Garth. I'll help you with pleasure--can I?" said Fred,with a sense that he should be courting Mary when he was helping herfather.

  "Well, you mustn't mind stooping and getting hot."

  "I don't mind anything. Only I want to go first and have a round withthat hulky fellow who turned to challenge me. It would be a goodlesson for him. I shall not be five minutes."

  "Nonsense!" said Caleb, with his most peremptory intonation. "I shallgo and speak to the men myself. It's all ignorance. Somebody has beentelling them lies. The poor fools don't know any better."

  "I shall go with you, then," said Fred.

  "No, no; stay where you are. I don't want your young blood. I cantake care of myself."

  Caleb was a powerful man and knew little of any fear except the fear ofhurting others and the fear of having to speechify. But he felt it hisduty at this moment to try and give a little harangue. There was astriking mixture in him--which came from his having always been ahard-working man himself--of rigorous notions about workmen andpractical indulgence towards them. To do a good day's work and to doit well, he held to be part of their welfare, as it was the chief partof his own happiness; but he had a strong sense of fellowship withthem. When he advanced towards the laborers they had not gone to workagain, but were standing in that form of rural grouping which consistsin each turning a shoulder towards the other, at a distance of two orthree yards. They looked rather sulkily at Caleb, who walked quicklywith one hand in his pocket and t
he other thrust between the buttons ofhis waistcoat, and had his every-day mild air when he paused among them.

  "Why, my lads, how's this?" he began, taking as usual to brief phrases,which seemed pregnant to himself, because he had many thoughts lyingunder them, like the abundant roots of a plant that just manages topeep above the water. "How came you to make such a mistake as this?Somebody has been telling you lies. You thought those men up therewanted to do mischief."

  "Aw!" was the answer, dropped at intervals by each according to hisdegree of unreadiness.

  "Nonsense! No such thing! They're looking out to see which way therailroad is to take. Now, my lads, you can't hinder the railroad: itwill be made whether you like it or not. And if you go fightingagainst it, you'll get yourselves into trouble. The law gives thosemen leave to come here on the land. The owner has nothing to sayagainst it, and if you meddle with them you'll have to do with theconstable and Justice Blakesley, and with the handcuffs and Middlemarchjail. And you might be in for it now, if anybody informed against you."

  Caleb paused here, and perhaps the greatest orator could not havechosen either his pause or his images better for the occasion.

  "But come, you didn't mean any harm. Somebody told you the railroadwas a bad thing. That was a lie. It may do a bit of harm here andthere, to this and to that; and so does the sun in heaven. But therailway's a good thing."

  "Aw! good for the big folks to make money out on," said old TimothyCooper, who had stayed behind turning his hay while the others had beengone on their spree;--"I'n seen lots o' things turn up sin' I war ayoung un--the war an' the peace, and the canells, an' the oald KingGeorge, an' the Regen', an' the new King George, an' the new un as hasgot a new ne-ame--an' it's been all aloike to the poor mon. What's thecanells been t' him? They'n brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, norwage to lay by, if he didn't save it wi' clemmin' his own inside.Times ha' got wusser for him sin' I war a young un. An' so it'll bewi' the railroads. They'll on'y leave the poor mon furder behind. Butthem are fools as meddle, and so I told the chaps here. This is thebig folks's world, this is. But yo're for the big folks, Muster Garth,yo are."

  Timothy was a wiry old laborer, of a type lingering in those times--whohad his savings in a stocking-foot, lived in a lone cottage, and wasnot to be wrought on by any oratory, having as little of the feudalspirit, and believing as little, as if he had not been totallyunacquainted with the Age of Reason and the Rights of Man. Caleb wasin a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times andunassisted by miracle to reason with rustics who are in possession ofan undeniable truth which they know through a hard process of feeling,and can let it fall like a giant's club on your neatly carved argumentfor a social benefit which they do not feel. Caleb had no cant atcommand, even if he could have chosen to use it; and he had beenaccustomed to meet all such difficulties in no other way than by doinghis "business" faithfully. He answered--

  "If you don't think well of me, Tim, never mind; that's neither herenor there now. Things may be bad for the poor man--bad they are; but Iwant the lads here not to do what will make things worse forthemselves. The cattle may have a heavy load, but it won't help 'em tothrow it over into the roadside pit, when it's partly their own fodder."

  "We war on'y for a bit o' foon," said Hiram, who was beginning to seeconsequences. "That war all we war arter."

  "Well, promise me not to meddle again, and I'll see that nobody informsagainst you."

  "I'n ne'er meddled, an' I'n no call to promise," said Timothy.

  "No, but the rest. Come, I'm as hard at work as any of you to-day, andI can't spare much time. Say you'll be quiet without the constable."

  "Aw, we wooant meddle--they may do as they loike for oos"--were theforms in which Caleb got his pledges; and then he hastened back toFred, who had followed him, and watched him in the gateway.

  They went to work, and Fred helped vigorously. His spirits had risen,and he heartily enjoyed a good slip in the moist earth under thehedgerow, which soiled his perfect summer trousers. Was it hissuccessful onset which had elated him, or the satisfaction of helpingMary's father? Something more. The accidents of the morning hadhelped his frustrated imagination to shape an employment for himselfwhich had several attractions. I am not sure that certain fibres inMr. Garth's mind had not resumed their old vibration towards the veryend which now revealed itself to Fred. For the effective accident isbut the touch of fire where there is oil and tow; and it alwaysappeared to Fred that the railway brought the needed touch. But theywent on in silence except when their business demanded speech. Atlast, when they had finished and were walking away, Mr. Garth said--

  "A young fellow needn't be a B. A. to do this sort of work, eh, Fred?"

  "I wish I had taken to it before I had thought of being a B. A.," saidFred. He paused a moment, and then added, more hesitatingly, "Do youthink I am too old to learn your business, Mr. Garth?"

  "My business is of many sorts, my boy," said Mr. Garth, smiling. "Agood deal of what I know can only come from experience: you can't learnit off as you learn things out of a book. But you are young enough tolay a foundation yet." Caleb pronounced the last sentenceemphatically, but paused in some uncertainty. He had been under theimpression lately that Fred had made up his mind to enter the Church.

  "You do think I could do some good at it, if I were to try?" said Fred,more eagerly.

  "That depends," said Caleb, turning his head on one side and loweringhis voice, with the air of a man who felt himself to be sayingsomething deeply religious. "You must be sure of two things: you mustlove your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wantingyour play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of yourwork, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing somethingelse. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do itwell, and not be always saying, There's this and there's that--if I hadthis or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a manis--I wouldn't give twopence for him"--here Caleb's mouth lookedbitter, and he snapped his fingers--"whether he was the prime ministeror the rick-thatcher, if he didn't do well what he undertook to do."

  "I can never feel that I should do that in being a clergyman," saidFred, meaning to take a step in argument.

  "Then let it alone, my boy," said Caleb, abruptly, "else you'll neverbe easy. Or, if you _are_ easy, you'll be a poor stick."

  "That is very nearly what Mary thinks about it," said Fred, coloring."I think you must know what I feel for Mary, Mr. Garth: I hope it doesnot displease you that I have always loved her better than any oneelse, and that I shall never love any one as I love her."

  The expression of Caleb's face was visibly softening while Fred spoke.But he swung his head with a solemn slowness, and said--

  "That makes things more serious, Fred, if you want to take Mary'shappiness into your keeping."

  "I know that, Mr. Garth," said Fred, eagerly, "and I would do anythingfor _her_. She says she will never have me if I go into the Church;and I shall be the most miserable devil in the world if I lose all hopeof Mary. Really, if I could get some other profession,business--anything that I am at all fit for, I would work hard, I woulddeserve your good opinion. I should like to have to do with outdoorthings. I know a good deal about land and cattle already. I used tobelieve, you know--though you will think me rather foolish for it--thatI should have land of my own. I am sure knowledge of that sort wouldcome easily to me, especially if I could be under you in any way."

  "Softly, my boy," said Caleb, having the image of "Susan" before hiseyes. "What have you said to your father about all this?"

  "Nothing, yet; but I must tell him. I am only waiting to know what Ican do instead of entering the Church. I am very sorry to disappointhim, but a man ought to be allowed to judge for himself when he isfour-and-twenty. How could I know when I was fifteen, what it would beright for me to do now? My education was a mistake."

  "But hearken to this, Fred," said Caleb. "Are you sure Mary is fond
ofyou, or would ever have you?"

  "I asked Mr. Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbiddenme--I didn't know what else to do," said Fred, apologetically. "And hesays that I have every reason to hope, if I can put myself in anhonorable position--I mean, out of the Church. I dare say you think itunwarrantable in me, Mr. Garth, to be troubling you and obtruding myown wishes about Mary, before I have done anything at all for myself.Of course I have not the least claim--indeed, I have already a debt toyou which will never be discharged, even when I have been, able to payit in the shape of money."

  "Yes, my boy, you have a claim," said Caleb, with much feeling in hisvoice. "The young ones have always a claim on the old to help themforward. I was young myself once and had to do without much help; buthelp would have been welcome to me, if it had been only for thefellow-feeling's sake. But I must consider. Come to me to-morrow atthe office, at nine o'clock. At the office, mind."

  Mr. Garth would take no important step without consulting Susan, but itmust be confessed that before he reached home he had taken hisresolution. With regard to a large number of matters about which othermen are decided or obstinate, he was the most easily manageable man inthe world. He never knew what meat he would choose, and if Susan hadsaid that they ought to live in a four-roomed cottage, in order tosave, he would have said, "Let us go," without inquiring into details.But where Caleb's feeling and judgment strongly pronounced, he was aruler; and in spite of his mildness and timidity in reproving, everyone about him knew that on the exceptional occasions when he chose, hewas absolute. He never, indeed, chose to be absolute except on someone else's behalf. On ninety-nine points Mrs. Garth decided, but onthe hundredth she was often aware that she would have to perform thesingularly difficult task of carrying out her own principle, and tomake herself subordinate.

  "It is come round as I thought, Susan," said Caleb, when they wereseated alone in the evening. He had already narrated the adventurewhich had brought about Fred's sharing in his work, but had kept backthe further result. "The children _are_ fond of each other--I mean,Fred and Mary."

  Mrs. Garth laid her work on her knee, and fixed her penetrating eyesanxiously on her husband.

  "After we'd done our work, Fred poured it all out to me. He can't bearto be a clergyman, and Mary says she won't have him if he is one; andthe lad would like to be under me and give his mind to business. AndI've determined to take him and make a man of him."

  "Caleb!" said Mrs. Garth, in a deep contralto, expressive of resignedastonishment.

  "It's a fine thing to do," said Mr. Garth, settling himself firmlyagainst the back of his chair, and grasping the elbows. "I shall havetrouble with him, but I think I shall carry it through. The lad lovesMary, and a true love for a good woman is a great thing, Susan. Itshapes many a rough fellow."

  "Has Mary spoken to you on the subject?" said Mrs Garth, secretly alittle hurt that she had to be informed on it herself.

  "Not a word. I asked her about Fred once; I gave her a bit of awarning. But she assured me she would never marry an idleself-indulgent man--nothing since. But it seems Fred set on Mr.Farebrother to talk to her, because she had forbidden him to speakhimself, and Mr. Farebrother has found out that she is fond of Fred,but says he must not be a clergyman. Fred's heart is fixed on Mary,that I can see: it gives me a good opinion of the lad--and we alwaysliked him, Susan."

  "It is a pity for Mary, I think," said Mrs. Garth.

  "Why--a pity?"

  "Because, Caleb, she might have had a man who is worth twenty FredVincy's."

  "Ah?" said Caleb, with surprise.

  "I firmly believe that Mr. Farebrother is attached to her, and meant tomake her an offer; but of course, now that Fred has used him as anenvoy, there is an end to that better prospect." There was a severeprecision in Mrs. Garth's utterance. She was vexed and disappointed,but she was bent on abstaining from useless words.

  Caleb was silent a few moments under a conflict of feelings. He lookedat the floor and moved his head and hands in accompaniment to someinward argumentation. At last he said--

  "That would have made me very proud and happy, Susan, and I should havebeen glad for your sake. I've always felt that your belongings havenever been on a level with you. But you took me, though I was a plainman."

  "I took the best and cleverest man I had ever known," said Mrs. Garth,convinced that _she_ would never have loved any one who came short ofthat mark.

  "Well, perhaps others thought you might have done better. But it wouldhave been worse for me. And that is what touches me close about Fred.The lad is good at bottom, and clever enough to do, if he's put in theright way; and he loves and honors my daughter beyond anything, and shehas given him a sort of promise according to what he turns out. I say,that young man's soul is in my hand; and I'll do the best I can forhim, so help me God! It's my duty, Susan."

  Mrs. Garth was not given to tears, but there was a large one rollingdown her face before her husband had finished. It came from thepressure of various feelings, in which there was much affection andsome vexation. She wiped it away quickly, saying--

  "Few men besides you would think it a duty to add to their anxieties inthat way, Caleb."

  "That signifies nothing--what other men would think. I've got a clearfeeling inside me, and that I shall follow; and I hope your heart willgo with me, Susan, in making everything as light as can be to Mary,poor child."

  Caleb, leaning back in his chair, looked with anxious appeal towardshis wife. She rose and kissed him, saying, "God bless you, Caleb! Ourchildren have a good father."

  But she went out and had a hearty cry to make up for the suppression ofher words. She felt sure that her husband's conduct would bemisunderstood, and about Fred she was rational and unhopeful. Whichwould turn out to have the more foresight in it--her rationality orCaleb's ardent generosity?

  When Fred went to the office the next morning, there was a test to begone through which he was not prepared for.

  "Now Fred," said Caleb, "you will have some desk-work. I have alwaysdone a good deal of writing myself, but I can't do without help, and asI want you to understand the accounts and get the values into yourhead, I mean to do without another clerk. So you must buckle to. Howare you at writing and arithmetic?"

  Fred felt an awkward movement of the heart; he had not thought ofdesk-work; but he was in a resolute mood, and not going to shrink."I'm not afraid of arithmetic, Mr. Garth: it always came easily to me.I think you know my writing."

  "Let us see," said Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully andhanding it, well dipped, to Fred with a sheet of ruled paper. "Copy mea line or two of that valuation, with the figures at the end."

  At that time the opinion existed that it was beneath a gentleman towrite legibly, or with a hand in the least suitable to a clerk. Fredwrote the lines demanded in a hand as gentlemanly as that of anyviscount or bishop of the day: the vowels were all alike and theconsonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, the strokes hada blotted solidity and the letters disdained to keep the line--inshort, it was a manuscript of that venerable kind easy to interpretwhen you know beforehand what the writer means.

  As Caleb looked on, his visage showed a growing depression, but whenFred handed him the paper he gave something like a snarl, and rappedthe paper passionately with the back of his hand. Bad work like thisdispelled all Caleb's mildness.

  "The deuce!" he exclaimed, snarlingly. "To think that this is acountry where a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and itturns you out this!" Then in a more pathetic tone, pushing up hisspectacles and looking at the unfortunate scribe, "The Lord have mercyon us, Fred, I can't put up with this!"

  "What can I do, Mr. Garth?" said Fred, whose spirits had sunk very low,not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision ofhimself as liable to be ranked with office clerks.

  "Do? Why, you must learn to form your letters and keep the line.What's the use of writing at all if nobody can understand it?" askedCal
eb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the bad quality of thework. "Is there so little business in the world that you must besending puzzles over the country? But that's the way people arebrought up. I should lose no end of time with the letters some peoplesend me, if Susan did not make them out for me. It's disgusting." HereCaleb tossed the paper from him.

  Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might have wonderedwhat was the drama between the indignant man of business, and thefine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting ratherpatchy as he bit his lip with mortification. Fred was struggling withmany thoughts. Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at thebeginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had beenat a high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate. He had notthought of desk-work--in fact, like the majority of young gentlemen, hewanted an occupation which should be free from disagreeables. I cannottell what might have been the consequences if he had not distinctlypromised himself that he would go to Lowick to see Mary and tell herthat he was engaged to work under her father. He did not like todisappoint himself there.

  "I am very sorry," were all the words that he could muster. But Mr.Garth was already relenting.

  "We must make the best of it, Fred," he began, with a return to hisusual quiet tone. "Every man can learn to write. I taught myself. Goat it with a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isn't enough.We'll be patient, my boy. Callum shall go on with the books for a bit,while you are learning. But now I must be off," said Caleb, rising."You must let your father know our agreement. You'll save me Callum'ssalary, you know, when you can write; and I can afford to give youeighty pounds for the first year, and more after."

  When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relativeeffect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into hismemory. He went straight from Mr. Garth's office to the warehouse,rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behaveto his father was to make the painful communication as gravely andformally as possible. Moreover, the decision would be more certainlyunderstood to be final, if the interview took place in his father'sgravest hours, which were always those spent in his private room at thewarehouse.

  Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what he haddone and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret that heshould be the cause of disappointment to his father, and taking theblame on his own deficiencies. The regret was genuine, and inspiredFred with strong, simple words.

  Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even anexclamation, a silence which in his impatient temperament was a sign ofunusual emotion. He had not been in good spirits about trade thatmorning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense as helistened. When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly a minute,during which Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned the keyemphatically. Then he looked at his son steadily, and said--

  "So you've made up your mind at last, sir?"

  "Yes, father."

  "Very well; stick to it. I've no more to say. You've thrown away youreducation, and gone down a step in life, when I had given you the meansof rising, that's all."

  "I am very sorry that we differ, father. I think I can be quite asmuch of a gentleman at the work I have undertaken, as if I had been acurate. But I am grateful to you for wishing to do the best for me."

  "Very well; I have no more to say. I wash my hands of you. I onlyhope, when you have a son of your own he will make a better return forthe pains you spend on him."

  This was very cutting to Fred. His father was using that unfairadvantage possessed by us all when we are in a pathetic situation andsee our own past as if it were simply part of the pathos. In reality,Mr. Vincy's wishes about his son had had a great deal of pride,inconsiderateness, and egoistic folly in them. But still thedisappointed father held a strong lever; and Fred felt as if he werebeing banished with a malediction.

  "I hope you will not object to my remaining at home, sir?" he said,after rising to go; "I shall have a sufficient salary to pay for myboard, as of course I should wish to do."

  "Board be hanged!" said Mr. Vincy, recovering himself in his disgust atthe notion that Fred's keep would be missed at his table. "Of courseyour mother will want you to stay. But I shall keep no horse for you,you understand; and you will pay your own tailor. You will do with asuit or two less, I fancy, when you have to pay for 'em."

  Fred lingered; there was still something to be said. At last it came.

  "I hope you will shake hands with me, father, and forgive me thevexation I have caused you."

  Mr. Vincy from his chair threw a quick glance upward at his son, whohad advanced near to him, and then gave his hand, saying hurriedly,"Yes, yes, let us say no more."

  Fred went through much more narrative and explanation with his mother,but she was inconsolable, having before her eyes what perhaps herhusband had never thought of, the certainty that Fred would marry MaryGarth, that her life would henceforth be spoiled by a perpetualinfusion of Garths and their ways, and that her darling boy, with hisbeautiful face and stylish air "beyond anybody else's son inMiddlemarch," would be sure to get like that family in plainness ofappearance and carelessness about his clothes. To her it seemed thatthere was a Garth conspiracy to get possession of the desirable Fred,but she dared not enlarge on this opinion, because a slight hint of ithad made him "fly out" at her as he had never done before. Her temperwas too sweet for her to show any anger, but she felt that herhappiness had received a bruise, and for several days merely to look atFred made her cry a little as if he were the subject of some balefulprophecy. Perhaps she was the slower to recover her usual cheerfulnessbecause Fred had warned her that she must not reopen the sore questionwith his father, who had accepted his decision and forgiven him. Ifher husband had been vehement against Fred, she would have been urgedinto defence of her darling. It was the end of the fourth day when Mr.Vincy said to her--

  "Come, Lucy, my dear, don't be so down-hearted. You always have spoiledthe boy, and you must go on spoiling him."

  "Nothing ever did cut me so before, Vincy," said the wife, her fairthroat and chin beginning to tremble again, "only his illness."

  "Pooh, pooh, never mind! We must expect to have trouble with ourchildren. Don't make it worse by letting me see you out of spirits."

  "Well, I won't," said Mrs. Vincy, roused by this appeal and adjustingherself with a little shake as of a bird which lays down its ruffledplumage.

  "It won't do to begin making a fuss about one," said Mr. Vincy, wishingto combine a little grumbling with domestic cheerfulness. "There'sRosamond as well as Fred."

  "Yes, poor thing. I'm sure I felt for her being disappointed of herbaby; but she got over it nicely."

  "Baby, pooh! I can see Lydgate is making a mess of his practice, andgetting into debt too, by what I hear. I shall have Rosamond coming tome with a pretty tale one of these days. But they'll get no money fromme, I know. Let _his_ family help him. I never did like thatmarriage. But it's no use talking. Ring the bell for lemons, anddon't look dull any more, Lucy. I'll drive you and Louisa to Riverstonto-morrow."