Scenes of Clerical Life

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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

 

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