by George Eliot
blind clinging hopes of affection; such unseen elements Mr Tryan called the
Divine Will, and filled up the margin of ignorance which surrounds all our
knowledge with the feelings of trust and resignation. Perhaps the profoundest
philosophy could hardly fill it up better.
His mind was occupied in this way as he was absently taking off his gown, when
Mr Landor startled him by entering the vestry and asking abruptly,
"Have you heard the news about Dempster?"
"No," said Mr Tryan, anxiously; "what is it?"
"He has been thrown out of his gig in the Bridge Way, and he was taken up for
dead. They were carrying him home as we were coming to church, and I stayed
behind to see what I could do. I went in to speak to Mrs Dempster, and prepare
her a little, but she was not at home. Dempster is not dead, however; he was
stunned with the fall. Pilgrim came in a few minutes, and he says the right leg
is broken in two places. It's likely to be a terrible case, with his state of
body. It seems he was more drunk than usual, and they say he came along the
Bridge Way flogging his horse like a madman, till at last it gave a sudden
wheel, and he was pitched out. The servants said they didn't know where Mrs
Dempster was: she had been away from home since yesterday morning; but Mrs
Raynor knew."
"I know where she is," said Mr Tryan; "but I think it will be better for her not
to be told of this just yet."
"Ah, that was what Pilgrim said, and so I didn't go round to Mrs Raynor's. He
said it would be all the better if Mrs Dempster could be kept out of the house
for the present. Do you know if anything new has happened between Dempster and
his wife lately? I was surprised to hear of her being at Paddiford church this
morning."
"Yes, something has happened; but I believe she is anxious that the particulars
of his behaviour towards her should not be known. She is at Mrs Pettifer's�there
is no reason for concealing that, since what has happened to her husband; and
yesterday, when she was in very deep trouble, she sent for me. I was very
thankful she did so: I believe a great change of feeling has begun in her. But
she is at present in that excitable state of mind�she has been shaken by so many
painful emotions during the last two days, that I think it would be better, for
this evening at least, to guard her from a new shock, if possible. But I am
going now to call upon her, and I shall see how she is."
"Mr Tryan," said Mr Jerome, who had entered during the dialogue, and had been
standing by listening with a distressed face, "I shall take it as a favour if
you'll let me know if iver there's anything I can do for Mrs Dempster. Eh, dear,
what a world this is! I think I see 'em fifteen 'ear ago �as happy a young
couple as iver was; and now, what it's all come to! I was in a hurry, like, to
punish Dempster for pessecutin', but there was a stronger hand at work nor
mine."
"Yes, Mr Jerome; but don't let us rejoice in punishment, even when the hand of
God alone inflicts it. The best of us are but poor wretches just saved from
shipwreck: can we feel anything but awe and pity when we see a fellow-passenger
swallowed by the waves?"
"Right, right, Mr Tryan. I'm over hot an' hasty, that I am. But I beg on you to
tell Mrs Dempster�I mean, in course, when you've an opportunity�tell her she's a
friend at the White House as she may send for any hour o' the day."
"Yes; I shall have an opportunity, I dare say, and I will remember your wish. I
think," continued Mr Tryan, turning to Mr Landor, "I had better see Mr Pilgrim
on my way, and learn what is exactly the state of things by this time. What do
you think?"
"By all means: if Mrs Dempster is to know, there's no one can break the news to
her so well as you. I'll walk with you to Dempster's door. I dare say Pilgrim is
there still. Come, Mr Jerome, you've got to go our way too, to fetch your
horse."
Mr Pilgrim was in the passage giving some directions to his assistant, when, to
his surprise, he saw Mr Tryan enter. They shook hands; for Mr Pilgrim, never
having joined the party of the Anti-Tryanites, had no ground for resisting the
growing conviction, that the Evangelical curate was really a good fellow, though
he was a fool for not taking better care of himself.
"Why, I didn't expect to see you in your old enemy's quarters," he said to Mr
Tryan. "However, it will be a good while before poor Dempster shows any fight
again."
"I came on Mrs Dempster's account," said Mr Tryan. "She is staying at Mrs
Pettifer's; she has had a great shock from some severe domestic trouble lately,
and I think it will be wise to defer telling her of this dreadful event for a
short time."
"Why, what has been up, eh?" said Mr Pilgrim, whose curiosity was at once
awakened. "She used to be no friend of yours. Has there been some split between
them? It's a new thing for her to turn round on him."
"O, merely an exaggeration of scenes that must often have happened before. But
the question now is, whether you think there is any immediate danger of her
husband's death; for in that case I think, from what I have observed of her
feelings, she would be pained afterwards to have been kept in ignorance."
"Well, there's no telling in these cases, you know. I don't apprehend speedy
death, and it is not absolutely impossible that we may bring him round again. At
present he's in a state of apoplectic stupor; but if that subsides, delirium is
almost sure to supervene, and we shall have some painful scenes. It's one of
those complicated cases in which the delirium is likely to be of the worst
kind�meningitis and delirium tremens together �and we may have a good deal of
trouble with him. If Mrs Dempster were told, I should say it would be desirable
to persuade her to remain out of the house at present. She could do no good, you
know. I've got nurses."
"Thank you," said Mr Tryan. "That is what I wanted to know. Good-by."
When Mrs Pettifer opened the door for Mr Tryan, he told her in few words what
had happened, and begged her to take an opportunity of letting Mrs Raynor know,
that they might, if possible, concur in preventing a premature or sudden
disclosure of the event to Janet.
"Poor thing!" said Mrs Pettifer. "She's not fit to hear any bad news; she's very
low this evening�worn out with feeling; and she's not had anything to keep her
up, as she's been used to. She seems frightened at the thought of being tempted
to take it."
"Thank God for it; that fear is her greatest security."
When Mr Tryan entered the parlour this time, Janet was again awaiting him
eagerly, and her pale sad face was lighted up with a smile as she rose to meet
him. But the next moment she said, with a look of anxiety,
"How very ill and tired you look! You have been working so hard all day, and yet
you are come to talk to me. O, you are wearing yourself out. I must go and ask
Mrs Pettifer to come and make you have some supper. But this is my mother; you
have not seen her before, I think."
While Mr Tryan was speaking to Mrs Raynor,
Janet hurried out, and he, seeing
that this goodnatured thoughtfulness on his behalf would help to counteract her
depression, was not inclined to oppose her wish, but accepted the supper Mrs
Pettifer offered him, quietly talking the while about a clothing club he was
going to establish in Paddiford, and the want of provident habits among the
poor.
Presently, however, Mrs Raynor said she must go home for an hour, to see how her
little maiden was going on, and Mrs Pettifer left the room with her to take the
opportunity of telling her what had happened to Dempster. When Janet was left
alone with Mr Tryan, she said,
"I feel so uncertain what to do about my husband. I am so weak�my feelings
change so from hour to hour. This morning, when I felt so hopeful and happy, I
thought I should like to go back to him, and try to make up for what has been
wrong in me. I thought, now God would help me, and I should have you to teach
and advise me, and I could bear the troubles that would come. But since then�all
this afternoon and evening�I have had the same feelings I used to have, the same
dread of his anger and cruelty, and it seems to me as if I should never be able
to bear it without falling into the same sins, and doing just what I did before.
Yet, if it were settled that I should live apart from him, I know it would
always be a load on my mind that I had shut myself out from going back to him.
It seems a dreadful thing in life, when any one has been so near to one as a
husband for fifteen years, to part and be nothing to each other any more. Surely
that is a very strong tie, and I feel as if my duty can never lie quite away
from it. It is very difficult to know what to do: what ought I to do?"
"I think it will be well not to take any decisive step yet. Wait until your mind
is calmer. You might remain with your mother for a little while; I think you
have no real ground for fearing any annoyance from your husband at present; he
has put himself too much in the wrong; he will very likely leave you unmolested
for some time. Dismiss this difficult question from your mind just now, if you
can. Every new day may bring you new grounds for decision, and what is most
needful for your health of mind is repose from that haunting anxiety about the
future which has been preying on you. Cast yourself on God, and trust that He
will direct you; He will make your duty clear to you, if you wait submissively
on Him."
"Yes; I will wait a little, as you tell me. I will go to my mother's to-morrow,
and pray to be guided rightly. You will pray for me, too."
CHAPTER XXIII.
The next morning Janet was so much calmer, and at breakfast spoke so decidedly
of going to her mother's, that Mrs Pettifer and Mrs Raynor agreed it would be
wise to let her know by degrees what had befallen her husband, since as soon as
she went out there would be danger of her meeting some one who would betray the
fact. But Mrs Raynor thought it would be well first to call at Dempster's, and
ascertain how he was: so she said to Janet,
"My dear, I'll go home first, and see to things, and get your room ready. You
needn't come yet, you know. I shall be back again in an hour or so, and we can
go together."
"O no," said Mrs Pettifer. "Stay with me till evening. I shall be lost without
you. You needn't go till quite evening."
Janet had dipped into the Life of Henry Martyn, which Mrs Pettifer had from the
Paddiford Lending Library, and her interest was so arrested by that pathetic
missionary story, that she readily acquiesced in both propositions, and Mrs
Raynor set out.
She had been gone more than an hour, and it was nearly twelve o'clock, when
Janet put down her book; and after sitting meditatively for some minutes with
her eyes unconsciously fixed on the opposite wall, she rose, went to her
bedroom, and, hastily putting on her bonnet and shawl, came down to Mrs
Pettifer, who was busy in the kitchen.
"Mrs Pettifer," she said, "tell mother, when she comes back, I'm gone to see
what is become of those poor Lakins in Butcher Lane. I know they're half
starving, and I've neglected them so, lately. And then, I think, I'll go on to
Mrs Crewe. I want to see the dear little woman, and tell her myself about my
going to hear Mr Tryan. She won't feel it half so much if I tell her myself."
"Won't you wait till your mother comes, or put it off till to-morrow?" said Mrs
Pettifer, alarmed. "You'll hardly be back in time for dinner, if you get talking
to Mrs Crewe. And you'll have to pass by your husband's, you know; and
yesterday, you were so afraid of seeing him."
"O, Robert will be shut up at the office now, if he's not gone out of the town.
I must go�I feel I must be doing something for some one�not be a mere useless
log any longer. I've been reading about that wonderful Henry Martyn; he's just
like Mr Tryan�wearing himself out for other people, and I sit thinking of
nothing but myself. I must go. Good-by; I shall be back soon."
She ran off before Mrs Pettifer could utter another word of dissuasion, leaving
the good woman in considerable anxiety lest this new impulse of Janet's should
frustrate all precautions to save her from a sudden shock.
Janet, having paid her visit in Butcher Lane, turned again into Orchard Street
on her way to Mrs Crewe's, and was thinking, rather sadly, that her mother's
economical housekeeping would leave no abundant surplus to be sent to the hungry
Lakins, when she saw Mr Pilgrim in advance of her on the other side of the
street. He was walking at a rapid pace, and when he reached Dempster's door he
turned and entered without knocking.
Janet was startled. Mr Pilgrim would never enter in that way unless there were
some one very ill in the house. It was her husband; she felt certain of it at
once. Something had happened to him. Without a moment's pause, she ran across
the street, opened the door and entered. There was no one in the passage. The
dining-room door was wide open�no one was there. Mr Pilgrim, then, was already
up-stairs. She rushed up at once to Dempster's room�her own room. The door was
open, and she paused in pale horror at the sight before her, which seemed to
stand out only with the more appalling distinctness because the noon-day light
was darkened to twilight in the chamber.
Two strong nurses were using their utmost force to hold Dempster in bed, while
the medical assistant was applying a sponge to his head, and Mr Pilgrim was busy
adjusting some apparatus in the background. Dempster's face was purple and
swollen, his eyes dilated, and fixed with a look of dire terror on something he
seemed to see approaching him from the iron closet. He trembled violently, and
struggled as if to jump out of bed.
"Let me go, let me go," he said in a loud, hoarse whisper; "she's coming ...
she's cold ... she's dead ... she'll strangle me with her black hair. Ah!" he
shrieked aloud, "her hair is all serpents ... they're black serpents ... they
hiss ... they hiss ... let me go ... let me go ... she wants to drag me with her
cold arms ... her arms are serpents ...
they are great white serpents ...
they'll twine round me ... she wants to drag me into the cold water ... her
bosom is cold ... it is black ... it is all serpents. ..."
"No, Robert," Janet cried, in tones of yearning pity, rushing to the side of the
bed, and stretching out her arms towards him, "no, here is Janet. She is not
dead�she forgives you."
Dempster's maddened senses seemed to receive some new impression from her
appearance. The terror gave way to range.
"Ha! you sneaking hypocrite!" he burst out in a grating voice, "you threaten me
... you mean to have your revenge on me, do you? Do your worst! I've got the law
on my side ... I know the law ... I'll hunt you down like a hare ... prove it
... prove that I was tampered with ... prove that I took the money ... damned
psalm-singing maggots! I'll make a fire under you, and smoke off the whole pack
of you ... I'll sweep you up ... I'll grind you to powder ... small powder ...
(here his voice dropt to a low tone of shuddering disgust) ... powder on the
bed-clothes ... running about ... black lice ... they are coming in swarms ...
Janet! come and take them away ... curse you! why don't you come? Janet!"
Poor Janet was kneeling by the bed with her face buried in her hands. She almost
wished her worst moment back again rather than this. It seemed as if her husband
was already imprisoned in misery, and she could not reach him�his ear deaf for
ever to the sounds of love and forgiveness. His sins had made a hard crust round
his soul; her pitying voice could not pierce it.
"Not there, isn't she?" he went on in a defiant tone. "Why do you ask me where
she is? I'll have every drop of yellow blood out of your veins if you come
questioning me. Your blood is yellow ... in your purse ... running out of your
purse ... What! you're changing it into toads, are you? They're crawling ...
they're flying ... they're flying about my head ... the toads are flying about.
Ostler! ostler! bring out my gig ... bring it out, you lazy beast ... ha! you'll
follow me, will you? ... you'll fly about my head ... you've got fiery tongues
... Ostler! curse you! why don't you come? Janet! come and take the toads away
... Janet!"
This last time he uttered her name with such a shriek of terror, that Janet
involuntarily started up from her knees, and stood as if petrified by the
horrible vibration. Dempster stared wildly in silence for some moments; then he
spoke again in a hoarse whisper:�
"Dead ... is she dead? She did it, then. She buried herself in the iron chest
... she left her clothes out, though ... she isn't dead ... why do you pretend
she's dead? ... she's coming ... she's coming out of the iron closet ... there
are the black serpents ... stop her ... let me go ... stop her ... she wants to
drag me away into the cold black water ... her bosom is black ... it is all
serpents ... they are getting longer ... the great white serpents are getting
longer. ..."
Here Mr Pilgrim came forward with the apparatus to bind him, but Dempster's
struggles became more and more violent. "Ostler! ostler!" he shouted, "bring out
the gig ... give me the whip!"�and bursting loose from the strong hands that
held him, he began to flog the bed-clothes furiously with his right arm.
"Get along, you lame brute!�sc�sc�sc! that's it! there you go! They think
they've outwitted me, do they? The sneaking idiots! I'll be up with them
by-and-by. I'll make them say the Lord's Prayer backwards ... I'll pepper them
so that the devil shall eat them raw ... sc�sc �sc�we shall see who'll be the
winner yet ... get along, you damned limping beast ... I'll lay your back open
... I'll. ..."
He raised himself with a stronger effort than ever to flog the bed-clothes, and
fell back in convulsions. Janet gave a scream, and sank on her knees again. She
thought he was dead.
As soon as Mr. Pilgrim was able to give her a moment's attention, he came to
her, and, taking her by the arm, attempted to draw her gently out of the room.
