by George Eliot
Mr Bates's hair was now grey, but his frame was none the less stalwart, and his
face looked all the redder, making an artistic contrast with the deep blue of
his cotton neckerchief, and of his linen apron twisted into a girdle round his
waist.
"Why, dang my boottons, Miss Tiny," he exclaimed, "hoo coom ye to coom oot
dabblin' your faet laike a little Muscovy duck, sich a day as this? Not but what
ai'm delighted to sae ye. Here Hesther," he called to his old humpbacked
housekeeper, "tek the yoong ledy's oombrella an' spread it oot to dray. Coom,
coom in, Miss Tiny, an' set ye doon by the faire an' dray yet faet, an' hev
summat warm to kape ye from ketchin' coold."
Mr Bates led the way, stooping under the doorplaces, into his small
sitting-room, and, shaking the patch-work cushion in his arm-chair, moved it to
within a good roasting distance of the blazing fire.
"Thank you, uncle Bates" (Caterina kept up her childish epithets for her
friends, and this was one of them); "not quite so close to the fire, for I am
warm with walking."
"Eh, but yer shoes are faine an' wet, an' ye must put up yer faet on the finder.
Rare big faet, baint 'em?�aboot the saize of a good big spoon. I woonder ye can
mek a shift to stan' on 'em. Now, what'll ye hev to warm yer insaide? a drop o'
hot elder-wain, now?"
"No, not anything to drink, thank you; it isn't very long since breakfast," said
Caterina, drawing out the comforter from her deep pocket. Pockets were capacious
in those days. "Look here, uncle Bates; here is what I came to bring you. I made
it on purpose for you. You must wear it this winter, and give your red one to
old Brooks."
"Eh, Miss Tiny, this is a beauty. An' ye made it all wi' yer little fingers for
an old feller laike mae! I tek it very kaind on ye, an' I belave ye I'll wear
it, and be prood on't too. These sthraipes, blue an' whaite, now, they mek it
uncommon pritty."
"Yes, that will suit your complexion, you know, better than the old scarlet one.
I know Mrs Sharp will be more in love with you than ever when she sees you in
the new one."
"My complexion, ye little roogue! ye're alaughin' at me. But talkin' o'
complexions, what a beautiful cooler the bride as is to be hes on her cheeks!
Dang my boottons! she looks faine an' handsome o' hossback�sits as upraight as a
dart, wi' a figure like a statty! Misthress Sharp has promised to put me behaind
one o' the doors when the ladies are comin' doon to dinner, so as I may sae the
young un i' full dress, wi' all her curls an' that. Misthress Sharp says she's
a'most beautifuller nor my ledy was when she was yoong; an' I think ye'll noot
faind many i' the counthry as'll coom up to that."
"Yes, Miss Assher is very handsome," said Caterina, rather faintly, feeling the
sense of her own insignificance returning at this picture of the impression Miss
Assher made on others.
"Well, an' I hope she's good too, an'll mek a good naice to Sir Cristhifer an'
my ledy. Misthress Griffin, the maid, says as she's rether tatchy and
find-fautin' aboot her cloothes, laike. But she's yoong�she's yoong; that'll
wear off when she's got a hoosband, an' children, an' summat else to think on.
Sir Cristhifer's fain an' delaighted, I can see. He says to me th' other
mornin', says he, 'Well, Bates, what do you think of your young misthress as is
to be?' An' I says, 'Whay, yer honour, I think she's as fain a lass as iver I
set eyes on; an' I wish the Captain luck in a fain family, an' your honour laife
an' health to see't.' Mr Warren says as the masther's all for forrardin' the
weddin', an' it'll very laike be afore the autumn's oot."
As Mr Bates ran on, Caterina felt something like a painful contraction at her
heart. "Yes," she said, rising, "I dare say it will. Sir Christopher is very
anxious for it. But I must go, uncle Bates; Lady Cheverel will be wanting me,
and it is your dinner-time."
"Nay, my dinner doont sinnify a bit; but I moosn't kaep ye if my ledy wants ye.
Though I hevn't thanked ye half anoof for the comfiter� the wrap-raskil, as they
call't. My feckins, it's a beauty. But ye look very whaite and sadly, Miss Tiny;
I doubt ye're poorly; an' this walkin' i' th' wet isn't good for ye."
"O yes, it is indeed," said Caterina, hastening out, and taking up her umbrella
from the kitchen floor. "I must really go now; so good-by."
She tripped off, calling Rupert, while the good gardener, his hands thrust deep
in his pockets, stood looking after her and shaking his head with rather a
melancholy air.
"She gets moor nesh and dillicat than iver," he said, half to himself and half
to Hester. "I shouldn't woonder if she fades away, laike them cyclamens as I
transplanted. She puts me i' maind on 'em somehow, hangin' on their little thin
stalks, so whaite an' tinder."
The poor little thing made her way back, no longer hungering for the cold moist
air as a counteractive of inward excitement, but with a chill at her heart which
made the outward chill only depressing. The golden sunlight beamed through the
dripping boughs like a Shechinah, or visible divine presence, and the birds were
chirping and trilling their new autumnal songs so sweetly, it seemed as if their
throats, as well as the air, were all the clearer for the rain; but Caterina
moved through all this joy and beauty like a poor wounded leveret painfully
dragging its little body through the sweet clover-tufts�for it, sweet in vain.
Mr Bates's words about Sir Christopher's joy, Miss Assher's beauty, and the
nearness of the wedding, had come upon her like the pressure of a cold hand,
rousing her from confused dozing to a perception of hard, familiar realities. It
is so with emotional natures, whose thoughts are no more than the fleeting
shadows cast by feeling: to them words are facts, and, even when known to be
false, have a mastery over their smiles and tears. Caterina entered her own room
again, with no other change from her former state of despondency and
wretchedness than an additional sense of injury from Anthony. His behaviour
towards her in the morning was a new wrong. To snatch a caress when she justly
claimed an expression of penitence, of regret, of sympathy, was to make more
light of her than ever.
CHAPTER VIII.
That evening Miss Assher seemed to carry herself with unusual haughtiness, and
was coldly observant of Caterina. There was unmistakably thunder in the air.
Captain Wybrow appeared to take the matter very easily, and was inclined to
brave it out by paying more than ordinary attention to Caterina. Mr Gilfil had
induced her to play a game at draughts with him, Lady Assher being seated at
picquet with Sir Christopher, and Miss Assher in determined conversation with
Lady Cheverel. Anthony, thus left as an odd unit, sauntered up to Caterina's
chair, and leaned behind her, watching the game. Tina, with all the remembrances
of the morning thick upon her, felt her cheeks becoming more and more crimson,
and at last said impatiently, "I wish you would go away."
This happened directly under the view of Miss Assher, who sa
w Caterina's
reddening cheeks, saw that she said something impatiently, and that Captain
Wybrow moved away in consequence. There was another person, too, who had noticed
this incident with strong interest, and who was moreover aware that Miss Assher
not only saw, but keenly observed what was passing. That other person was Mr
Gilfil, and he drew some painful conclusions which heightened his anxiety for
Caterina.
The next morning, in spite of the fine weather, Miss Assher declined riding, and
Lady Cheverel, perceiving that there was something wrong between the lovers,
took care that they should be left together in the drawing-room. Miss Assher,
seated on the sofa near the fire, was busy with some fancy-work, in which she
seemed bent on making great progress this morning. Captain Wybrow sat opposite
with a newspaper in his hand, from which he obligingly read extracts with an
elaborately easy air, wilfully unconscious of the contemptuous silence with
which she pursued her filigree work. At length he put down the paper, which he
could no longer pretend not to have exhausted, and Miss Assher then said,�
"You seem to be on very intimate terms with Miss Sarti."
"With Tina? oh yes; she has always been the pet of the house, you know. We have
been quite brother and sister together."
"Sister don't generally colour so very deeply when their brothers approach
them."
"Does she colour? I never noticed it. But she's a timid little thing."
"It would be much better if you would not be so hypocritical, Captain Wybrow. I
am confident there has been some flirtation between you. Miss Sarti, in her
position, would never speak to you with the petulance she did last night, if you
had not given her some kind of claim on you."
"My dear Beatrice, now do be reasonable; do ask yourself what earthly
probability there is that I should think of flirting with poor little Tina. Is
there anything about her to attract that sort of attention? She is more child
than woman. One thinks of her as a little girl to be petted and played with."
"Pray, what were you playing at with her yesterday morning, when I came in
unexpectedly, and her cheeks were flushed, and her hands trembling?"
"Yesterday morning?�O, I remember. You know I always tease her about Gilfil, who
is over head and ears in love with her; and she is angry at that,�perhaps,
because she likes him. They were old playfellows years before I came here, and
Sir Christopher has set his heart on their marrying."
"Captain Wybrow, you are very false. It had nothing to do with Mr Gilfil that
she coloured last night when you leaned over her chair. You might just as well
be candid. If your own mind is not made up, pray do no violence to yourself. I
am quite ready to give way to Miss Sarti's superior attractions. Understand
that, so far as I am concerned, you are perfectly at liberty. I decline any
share in the affection of a man who forfeits my respect by duplicity."
In saying this, Miss Assher rose, and was sweeping haughtily out of the room,
when Captain Wybrow placed himself before her, and took her hand.
"Dear, dear Beatrice, be patient; do not judge me so rashly. Sit down again,
sweet," he added in a pleading voice, pressing both her hands between his, and
leading her back to the sofa, where he sat down beside her. Miss Assher was not
unwilling to be led back or to listen, but she retained her cold and haughty
expression.
"Can you not trust me, Beatrice? Can you not believe me, although there may be
things I am unable to explain?"
"Why should there be anything you are unable to explain? An honourable man will
not be placed in circumstances which he cannot explain to the woman he seeks to
make his wife. He will not ask her to believe that he acts properly; he will let
her know that he does so. Let me go, sir."
She attempted to rise, but he passed his hand round her waist and detained her.
"Now, Beatrice dear," he said imploringly, "can you not understand that there
are things a man doesn't like to talk about�secrets that he must keep for the
sake of others, and not for his own sake? Everything that relates to myself you
may ask me, but do not ask me to tell other people's secrets. Don't you
understand me?"
"O yes," said Miss Assher scornfully, "I understand. Whenever you make love to a
woman� that is her secret, which you are bound to keep for her. But it is folly
to be talking in this way, Captain Wybrow. It is very plain that there is some
relation more than friendship between you and Miss Sarti. Since you cannot
explain that relation, there is no more to be said between us."
"Confound it, Beatrice! you'll drive me mad. Can a fellow help a girl's falling
in love with him? Such things are always happening, but men don't talk of them.
These fancies will spring up without the slightest foundation, especially when a
woman sees few people; they die out again when there is no encouragement. If you
could like me, you ought not to be surprised that other people can; you ought to
think the better of them for it."
"You mean to say, then, that Miss Sarti is in love with you, without your ever
having made love to her."
"Do not press me to say such things, dearest. It is enough that you know I love
you�that I am devoted to you. You naughty queen you, you know there is no chance
for any one else where you are. You are only tormenting me, to prove your power
over me. But don't be too cruel; for you know they say I have another
heart-disease besides love, and these scenes bring on terrible palpitations."
"But I must have an answer to this one question," said Miss Assher, a little
softened: "Has there been, or is there, any love on your side towards Miss
Sarti? I have nothing to do with her feelings, but I have a right to know
yours."
"I like Tina very much; who would not like such a little simple thing? You would
not wish me not to like her? But love�that is a very different affair. One has a
brotherly affection for such a woman as Tina; but it is another sort of woman
that one loves."
These last words were made doubly significant by a look of tenderness, and a
kiss imprinted on the hand Captain Wybrow held in his. Miss Assher was
conquered. It was so far from probable that Anthony should love that pale
insignificant little thing�so highly probably that he should adore the beautiful
Miss Assher. On the whole, it was rather gratifying that other women should be
languishing for her handsome lover; he really was an exquisite creature. Poor
Miss Sarti! Well, she would get over it.
Captain Wybrow saw his advantage. "Come, sweet love," he continued, "let us talk
no more about unpleasant things. You will keep Tina's secret, and be very kind
to her�won't you?�for my sake. But you will ride out now? See what a glorious
day it is for riding. Let me order the horses. I'm terribly in want of the air.
Come, give me one forgiving kiss, and say you will go."
Miss Assher complied with the double request, and then went to equip herself for
the ride, while her lover walked to the stables.
CHAPTE
R IX.
Meanwhile Mr Gilfil, who had a heavy weight on his mind, had watched for the
moment when, the two elder ladies having driven out, Caterina would probably be
alone in Lady Cheverel's sitting-room. He went up and knocked at the door.
"Come in," said the sweet mellow voice, always thrilling to him as the sound of
rippling water to the thirsty.
He entered and found Caterina standing in some confusion, as if she had been
startled from a reverie. She felt relieved when she saw it was Maynard, but, the
next moment, felt a little pettish that he should have come to interrupt and
frighten her.
"Oh, it is you, Maynard! Do you want Lady Cheverel?"
"No, Caterina," he answered gravely; "I want you. I have something very
particular to say to you. Will you let me sit down with you for half an hour?"
"Yes, dear old preacher," said Caterina, sitting down with an air of weariness;
"what is it?"
Mr Gilfil placed himself opposite to her, and said, "I hope you will not be
hurt, Caterina, by what I am going to say to you. I do not speak from any other
feelings than real affection and anxiety for you. I put everything else out of
the question. You know you are more to me than all the world; but I will not
thrust before you a feeling which you are unable to return. I speak to you as a
brother�the old Maynard that used to scold you for getting your fishing-line
tangled ten years ago. You will not believe that I have any mean, selfish motive
in mentioning things that are painful to you?"
"No; I know you are very good," said Caterina abstractedly.
"From what I saw yesterday evening," Mr Gilfil went on, hesitating and colouring
slightly, "I am led to fear�pray forgive me if I am wrong, Caterina�that
you�that Captain Wybrow is base enough still to trifle with your feelings, that
he still allows himself to behave to you as no man ought who is the declared
lover of another woman."
"What do you mean, Maynard?" said Caterina, with anger flashing from her eyes.
"Do you mean that I let him make love to me? What right have you to think that
of me? What do you mean that you saw yesterday evening?"
"Do not be angry, Caterina. I don't suspect you of doing wrong. I only suspect
that heartless puppy of behaving so as to keep awake feelings in you that not
only destroy your own peace of mind, but may lead to very bad consequences with
regard to others. I want to warn you that Miss Assher has her eyes open on what
passes between you and Captain Wybrow, and I feel sure she is getting jealous of
you. Pray be very careful, Caterina, and try to behave with politeness and
indifference to him. You must see by this time that he is not worth the feeling
you have given him. He's more disturbed at his pulse beating one too many in a
minute, than at all the misery he has caused you by his foolish trifling."
"You ought not to speak so of him, Maynard," said Caterina, passionately. "He is
not what you think. He did care for me; he did love me; only he wanted to do
what his uncle wished."
"O to be sure! I know it is only from the most virtuous motives that he does
what is convenient to himself."
Mr Gilfil paused. He felt that he was getting irritated, and defeating his own
object. Presently he continued in a calm and affectionate tone.
"I will say no more about what I think of him, Caterina. But whether he loved
you or not, his position now with Miss Assher is such that any love you may
cherish for him can bring nothing but misery. God knows, I don't expect you to
leave off loving him at a moment's notice. Time and absence, and trying to do
what is right, are the only cures. If it were not that Sir Christopher and Lady
Cheverel would be displeased and puzzled at your wishing to leave home just now,
I would beg you to pay a visit to my sister. She and her husband are good
creatures, and would make their house a home to you. But I could not urge the
thing just now without giving a special reason; and what is most of all to be
