Adam Bede

  Chapter XV

  The Two Bed-Chambers

  HETTY and Dinah both slept in the second story, in rooms adjoining eachother, meagrely furnished rooms, with no blinds to shut out the light,which was now beginning to gather new strength from the rising ofthe moon--more than enough strength to enable Hetty to move about andundress with perfect comfort. She could see quite well the pegs in theold painted linen-press on which she hung her hat and gown; she couldsee the head of every pin on her red cloth pin-cushion she could seea reflection of herself in the old-fashioned looking-glass, quite asdistinct as was needful, considering that she had only to brush her hairand put on her night-cap. A queer old looking-glass! Hetty got into anill temper with it almost every time she dressed. It had been considereda handsome glass in its day, and had probably been bought into thePoyser family a quarter of a century before, at a sale of genteelhousehold furniture. Even now an auctioneer could say something forit: it had a great deal of tarnished gilding about it; it had a firmmahogany base, well supplied with drawers, which opened with a decidedjerk and sent the contents leaping out from the farthest corners,without giving you the trouble of reaching them; above all, it had abrass candle-socket on each side, which would give it an aristocraticair to the very last. But Hetty objected to it because it had numerousdim blotches sprinkled over the mirror, which no rubbing would remove,and because, instead of swinging backwards and forwards, it was fixedin an upright position, so that she could only get one good view ofher head and neck, and that was to be had only by sitting down on alow chair before her dressing-table. And the dressing-table was nodressing-table at all, but a small old chest of drawers, the mostawkward thing in the world to sit down before, for the big brasshandles quite hurt her knees, and she couldn't get near the glass atall comfortably. But devout worshippers never allow inconveniencesto prevent them from performing their religious rites, and Hetty thisevening was more bent on her peculiar form of worship than usual.

  Having taken off her gown and white kerchief, she drew a key from thelarge pocket that hung outside her petticoat, and, unlocking one ofthe lower drawers in the chest, reached from it two short bits of waxcandle--secretly bought at Treddleston--and stuck them in the twobrass sockets. Then she drew forth a bundle of matches and lighted thecandles; and last of all, a small red-framed shilling looking-glass,without blotches. It was into this small glass that she chose to lookfirst after seating herself. She looked into it, smiling and turning herhead on one side, for a minute, then laid it down and took out her brushand comb from an upper drawer. She was going to let down her hair,and make herself look like that picture of a lady in Miss LydiaDonnithorne's dressing-room. It was soon done, and the dark hyacinthinecurves fell on her neck. It was not heavy, massive, merely ripplinghair, but soft and silken, running at every opportunity into delicaterings. But she pushed it all backward to look like the picture, and forma dark curtain, throwing into relief her round white neck. Then she putdown her brush and comb and looked at herself, folding her arms beforeher, still like the picture. Even the old mottled glass couldn't helpsending back a lovely image, none the less lovely because Hetty's stayswere not of white satin--such as I feel sure heroines must generallywear--but of a dark greenish cotton texture.

  Oh yes! She was very pretty. Captain Donnithorne thought so. Prettierthan anybody about Hayslope--prettier than any of the ladies she hadever seen visiting at the Chase--indeed it seemed fine ladies wererather old and ugly--and prettier than Miss Bacon, the miller'sdaughter, who was called the beauty of Treddleston. And Hetty looked atherself to-night with quite a different sensation from what she had everfelt before; there was an invisible spectator whose eye rested on herlike morning on the flowers. His soft voice was saying over and overagain those pretty things she had heard in the wood; his arm was roundher, and the delicate rose-scent of his hair was with her still. Thevainest woman is never thoroughly conscious of her own beauty till sheis loved by the man who sets her own passion vibrating in return.

  But Hetty seemed to have made up her mind that something was wanting,for she got up and reached an old black lace scarf out of thelinen-press, and a pair of large ear-rings out of the sacred drawer fromwhich she had taken her candles. It was an old old scarf, full of rents,but it would make a becoming border round her shoulders, and set off thewhiteness of her upper arm. And she would take out the little ear-ringsshe had in her ears--oh, how her aunt had scolded her for having herears bored!--and put in those large ones. They were but coloured glassand gilding, but if you didn't know what they were made of, they lookedjust as well as what the ladies wore. And so she sat down again, withthe large ear-rings in her ears, and the black lace scarf adjusted roundher shoulders. She looked down at her arms: no arms could be prettierdown to a little way below the elbow--they were white and plump, anddimpled to match her cheeks; but towards the wrist, she thought withvexation that they were coarsened by butter-making and other work thatladies never did.

  Captain Donnithorne couldn't like her to go on doing work: he would liketo see her in nice clothes, and thin shoes, and white stockings, perhapswith silk clocks to them; for he must love her very much--no one elsehad ever put his arm round her and kissed her in that way. He would wantto marry her and make a lady of her; she could hardly dare to shapethe thought--yet how else could it be? Marry her quite secretly, as Mr.James, the doctor's assistant, married the doctor's niece, and nobodyever found it out for a long while after, and then it was of no use tobe angry. The doctor had told her aunt all about it in Hetty's hearing.She didn't know how it would be, but it was quite plain the old Squirecould never be told anything about it, for Hetty was ready to faint withawe and fright if she came across him at the Chase. He might have beenearth-born, for what she knew. It had never entered her mind that hehad been young like other men; he had always been the old Squire at whomeverybody was frightened. Oh, it was impossible to think how it wouldbe! But Captain Donnithorne would know; he was a great gentleman, andcould have his way in everything, and could buy everything he liked. Andnothing could be as it had been again: perhaps some day she should bea grand lady, and ride in her coach, and dress for dinner in a brocadedsilk, with feathers in her hair, and her dress sweeping the ground, likeMiss Lydia and Lady Dacey, when she saw them going into the dining-roomone evening as she peeped through the little round window in the lobby;only she should not be old and ugly like Miss Lydia, or all the samethickness like Lady Dacey, but very pretty, with her hair done in agreat many different ways, and sometimes in a pink dress, and sometimesin a white one--she didn't know which she liked best; and Mary Burge andeverybody would perhaps see her going out in her carriage--or rather,they would HEAR of it: it was impossible to imagine these thingshappening at Hayslope in sight of her aunt. At the thought of all thissplendour, Hetty got up from her chair, and in doing so caught thelittle red-framed glass with the edge of her scarf, so that it fell witha bang on the floor; but she was too eagerly occupied with her visionto care about picking it up; and after a momentary start, began to pacewith a pigeon-like stateliness backwards and forwards along her room,in her coloured stays and coloured skirt, and the old black lace scarfround her shoulders, and the great glass ear-rings in her ears.

  How pretty the little puss looks in that odd dress! It would be theeasiest folly in the world to fall in love with her: there is such asweet babylike roundness about her face and figure; the delicate darkrings of hair lie so charmingly about her ears and neck; her greatdark eyes with their long eye-lashes touch one so strangely, as if animprisoned frisky sprite looked out of them.

  Ah, what a prize the man gets who wins a sweet bride like Hetty! How themen envy him who come to the wedding breakfast, and see her hanging onhis arm in her white lace and orange blossoms. The dear, young, round,soft, flexible thing! Her heart must be just as soft, her temper justas free from angles, her character just as pliant. If anything ever goeswrong, it must be the husband's fault there: he can make her what helikes--that is plain. And the lover himself thinks so too: the littl
edarling is so fond of him, her little vanities are so bewitching, hewouldn't consent to her being a bit wiser; those kittenlike glances andmovements are just what one wants to make one's hearth a paradise.Every man under such circumstances is conscious of being a greatphysiognomist. Nature, he knows, has a language of her own, which sheuses with strict veracity, and he considers himself an adept in thelanguage. Nature has written out his bride's character for him in thoseexquisite lines of cheek and lip and chin, in those eyelids delicate aspetals, in those long lashes curled like the stamen of a flower, in thedark liquid depths of those wonderful eyes. How she will dote on herchildren! She is almost a child herself, and the little pink roundthings will hang about her like florets round the central flower; andthe husband will look on, smiling benignly, able, whenever he chooses,to withdraw into the sanctuary of his wisdom, towards which his sweetwife will look reverently, and never lift the curtain. It is a marriagesuch as they made in the golden age, when the men were all wise andmajestic and the women all lovely and loving.

  It was very much in this way that our friend Adam Bede thought aboutHetty; only he put his thoughts into different words. If ever shebehaved with cold vanity towards him, he said to himself it is onlybecause she doesn't love me well enough; and he was sure that her love,whenever she gave it, would be the most precious thing a man couldpossess on earth. Before you despise Adam as deficient in penetration,pray ask yourself if you were ever predisposed to believe evil ofany pretty woman--if you ever COULD, without hard head-breakingdemonstration, believe evil of the ONE supremely pretty woman who hasbewitched you. No: people who love downy peaches are apt not to think ofthe stone, and sometimes jar their teeth terribly against it.

  Arthur Donnithorne, too, had the same sort of notion about Hetty, sofar as he had thought of her nature of all. He felt sure she was adear, affectionate, good little thing. The man who awakes the wonderingtremulous passion of a young girl always thinks her affectionate; andif he chances to look forward to future years, probably imagines himselfbeing virtuously tender to her, because the poor thing is so clinginglyfond of him. God made these dear women so--and it is a convenientarrangement in case of sickness.

  After all, I believe the wisest of us must be beguiled in this waysometimes, and must think both better and worse of people than theydeserve. Nature has her language, and she is not unveracious; but wedon't know all the intricacies of her syntax just yet, and in a hastyreading we may happen to extract the very opposite of her real meaning.Long dark eyelashes, now--what can be more exquisite? I find itimpossible not to expect some depth of soul behind a deep grey eye witha long dark eyelash, in spite of an experience which has shown me thatthey may go along with deceit, peculation, and stupidity. But if, inthe reaction of disgust, I have betaken myself to a fishy eye, there hasbeen a surprising similarity of result. One begins to suspect at lengththat there is no direct correlation between eyelashes and morals; orelse, that the eyelashes express the disposition of the fair one'sgrandmother, which is on the whole less important to us.

  No eyelashes could be more beautiful than Hetty's; and now, while shewalks with her pigeon-like stateliness along the room and looks down onher shoulders bordered by the old black lace, the dark fringe shows toperfection on her pink cheek. They are but dim ill-defined pictures thather narrow bit of an imagination can make of the future; but of everypicture she is the central figure in fine clothes; Captain Donnithorneis very close to her, putting his arm round her, perhaps kissing her,and everybody else is admiring and envying her--especially Mary Burge,whose new print dress looks very contemptible by the side of Hetty'sresplendent toilette. Does any sweet or sad memory mingle with thisdream of the future--any loving thought of her second parents--of thechildren she had helped to tend--of any youthful companion, any petanimal, any relic of her own childhood even? Not one. There are someplants that have hardly any roots: you may tear them from their nativenook of rock or wall, and just lay them over your ornamental flower-pot,and they blossom none the worse. Hetty could have cast all her past lifebehind her and never cared to be reminded of it again. I think she hadno feeling at all towards the old house, and did not like the Jacob'sLadder and the long row of hollyhocks in the garden better than otherflowers--perhaps not so well. It was wonderful how little she seemed tocare about waiting on her uncle, who had been a good father to her--shehardly ever remembered to reach him his pipe at the right time withoutbeing told, unless a visitor happened to be there, who would have abetter opportunity of seeing her as she walked across the hearth. Hettydid not understand how anybody could be very fond of middle-aged people.And as for those tiresome children, Marty and Tommy and Totty, they hadbeen the very nuisance of her life--as bad as buzzing insects that willcome teasing you on a hot day when you want to be quiet. Marty, theeldest, was a baby when she first came to the farm, for the childrenborn before him had died, and so Hetty had had them all three, one afterthe other, toddling by her side in the meadow, or playing about her onwet days in the half-empty rooms of the large old house. The boys wereout of hand now, but Totty was still a day-long plague, worse thaneither of the others had been, because there was more fuss made abouther. And there was no end to the making and mending of clothes. Hettywould have been glad to hear that she should never see a child again;they were worse than the nasty little lambs that the shepherd was alwaysbringing in to be taken special care of in lambing time; for the lambsWERE got rid of sooner or later. As for the young chickens and turkeys,Hetty would have hated the very word "hatching," if her aunt had notbribed her to attend to the young poultry by promising her the proceedsof one out of every brood. The round downy chicks peeping out from undertheir mother's wing never touched Hetty with any pleasure; that wasnot the sort of prettiness she cared about, but she did care about theprettiness of the new things she would buy for herself at TreddlestonFair with the money they fetched. And yet she looked so dimpled,so charming, as she stooped down to put the soaked bread under thehen-coop, that you must have been a very acute personage indeed tosuspect her of that hardness. Molly, the housemaid, with a turn-up noseand a protuberant jaw, was really a tender-hearted girl, and, as Mrs.Poyser said, a jewel to look after the poultry; but her stolidface showed nothing of this maternal delight, any more than a brownearthenware pitcher will show the light of the lamp within it.

  It is generally a feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencieshidden under the "dear deceit" of beauty, so it is not surprising thatMrs. Poyser, with her keenness and abundant opportunity for observation,should have formed a tolerably fair estimate of what might be expectedfrom Hetty in the way of feeling, and in moments of indignation she hadsometimes spoken with great openness on the subject to her husband.

  "She's no better than a peacock, as 'ud strut about on the wall andspread its tail when the sun shone if all the folks i' the parish wasdying: there's nothing seems to give her a turn i' th' inside, not evenwhen we thought Totty had tumbled into the pit. To think o' that dearcherub! And we found her wi' her little shoes stuck i' the mud an'crying fit to break her heart by the far horse-pit. But Hetty neverminded it, I could see, though she's been at the nussin' o' the childever since it was a babby. It's my belief her heart's as hard as apebble."

  "Nay, nay," said Mr. Poyser, "thee mustn't judge Hetty too hard. Themyoung gells are like the unripe grain; they'll make good meal by and by,but they're squashy as yet. Thee't see Hetty 'll be all right when she'sgot a good husband and children of her own."

  "I don't want to be hard upo' the gell. She's got cliver fingers of herown, and can be useful enough when she likes and I should miss her wi'the butter, for she's got a cool hand. An' let be what may, I'd striveto do my part by a niece o' yours--an' THAT I've done, for I've taughther everything as belongs to a house, an' I've told her her duty oftenenough, though, God knows, I've no breath to spare, an' that catchin'pain comes on dreadful by times. Wi' them three gells in the house I'dneed have twice the strength to keep 'em up to their work. It'slike having roast meat at three fires; as soon as you
've basted one,another's burnin'."

  Hetty stood sufficiently in awe of her aunt to be anxious to concealfrom her so much of her vanity as could be hidden without too great asacrifice. She could not resist spending her money in bits of finerywhich Mrs. Poyser disapproved; but she would have been ready to die withshame, vexation, and fright if her aunt had this moment opened the door,and seen her with her bits of candle lighted, and strutting about deckedin her scarf and ear-rings. To prevent such a surprise, she alwaysbolted her door, and she had not forgotten to do so to-night. It waswell: for there now came a light tap, and Hetty, with a leaping heart,rushed to blow out the candles and throw them into the drawer. She darednot stay to take out her ear-rings, but she threw off her scarf, and letit fall on the floor, before the light tap came again. We shall know howit was that the light tap came, if we leave Hetty for a short timeand return to Dinah, at the moment when she had delivered Totty to hermother's arms, and was come upstairs to her bedroom, adjoining Hetty's.

  Dinah delighted in her bedroom window. Being on the second story of thattall house, it gave her a wide view over the fields. The thickness ofthe wall formed a broad step about a yard below the window, where shecould place her chair. And now the first thing she did on entering herroom was to seat herself in this chair and look out on the peacefulfields beyond which the large moon was rising, just above the hedgerowelms. She liked the pasture best where the milch cows were lying,and next to that the meadow where the grass was half-mown, and lay insilvered sweeping lines. Her heart was very full, for there was to beonly one more night on which she would look out on those fields for along time to come; but she thought little of leaving the mere scene,for, to her, bleak Snowfield had just as many charms. She thought of allthe dear people whom she had learned to care for among these peacefulfields, and who would now have a place in her loving remembrance forever. She thought of the struggles and the weariness that might liebefore them in the rest of their life's journey, when she would be awayfrom them, and know nothing of what was befalling them; and the pressureof this thought soon became too strong for her to enjoy the unrespondingstillness of the moonlit fields. She closed her eyes, that she mightfeel more intensely the presence of a Love and Sympathy deeper and moretender than was breathed from the earth and sky. That was often Dinah'smode of praying in solitude. Simply to close her eyes and to feelherself enclosed by the Divine Presence; then gradually her fears, heryearning anxieties for others, melted away like ice-crystals in a warmocean. She had sat in this way perfectly still, with her hands crossedon her lap and the pale light resting on her calm face, for at least tenminutes when she was startled by a loud sound, apparently of somethingfalling in Hetty's room. But like all sounds that fall on our ears in astate of abstraction, it had no distinct character, but was simply loudand startling, so that she felt uncertain whether she had interpretedit rightly. She rose and listened, but all was quiet afterwards, and shereflected that Hetty might merely have knocked something down in gettinginto bed. She began slowly to undress; but now, owing to the suggestionsof this sound, her thoughts became concentrated on Hetty--that sweetyoung thing, with life and all its trials before her--the solemn dailyduties of the wife and mother--and her mind so unprepared for them all,bent merely on little foolish, selfish pleasures, like a child huggingits toys in the beginning of a long toilsome journey in which it willhave to bear hunger and cold and unsheltered darkness. Dinah felt adouble care for Hetty, because she shared Seth's anxious interest in hisbrother's lot, and she had not come to the conclusion that Hetty did notlove Adam well enough to marry him. She saw too clearly the absence ofany warm, self-devoting love in Hetty's nature to regard the coldness ofher behaviour towards Adam as any indication that he was not the manshe would like to have for a husband. And this blank in Hetty's nature,instead of exciting Dinah's dislike, only touched her with a deeperpity: the lovely face and form affected her as beauty always affects apure and tender mind, free from selfish jealousies. It was an excellentdivine gift, that gave a deeper pathos to the need, the sin, the sorrowwith which it was mingled, as the canker in a lily-white bud is moregrievous to behold than in a common pot-herb.

  By the time Dinah had undressed and put on her night-gown, this feelingabout Hetty had gathered a painful intensity; her imagination hadcreated a thorny thicket of sin and sorrow, in which she saw the poorthing struggling torn and bleeding, looking with tears for rescue andfinding none. It was in this way that Dinah's imagination and sympathyacted and reacted habitually, each heightening the other. She felt adeep longing to go now and pour into Hetty's ear all the words of tenderwarning and appeal that rushed into her mind. But perhaps Hetty wasalready asleep. Dinah put her ear to the partition and heard still someslight noises, which convinced her that Hetty was not yet in bed. Stillshe hesitated; she was not quite certain of a divine direction thevoice that told her to go to Hetty seemed no stronger than the othervoice which said that Hetty was weary, and that going to her now in anunseasonable moment would only tend to close her heart more obstinately.Dinah was not satisfied without a more unmistakable guidance than thoseinward voices. There was light enough for her, if she opened her Bible,to discern the text sufficiently to know what it would say to her. Sheknew the physiognomy of every page, and could tell on what book sheopened, sometimes on what chapter, without seeing title or number. Itwas a small thick Bible, worn quite round at the edges. Dinah laid itsideways on the window ledge, where the light was strongest, and thenopened it with her forefinger. The first words she looked at were thoseat the top of the left-hand page: "And they all wept sore, and fell onPaul's neck and kissed him." That was enough for Dinah; she had openedon that memorable parting at Ephesus, when Paul had felt bound to openhis heart in a last exhortation and warning. She hesitated no longer,but, opening her own door gently, went and tapped on Hetty's. We knowshe had to tap twice, because Hetty had to put out her candles and throwoff her black lace scarf; but after the second tap the door was openedimmediately. Dinah said, "Will you let me come in, Hetty?" and Hetty,without speaking, for she was confused and vexed, opened the door widerand let her in.

  What a strange contrast the two figures made, visible enough in thatmingled twilight and moonlight! Hetty, her cheeks flushed and her eyesglistening from her imaginary drama, her beautiful neck and arms bare,her hair hanging in a curly tangle down her back, and the baubles in herears. Dinah, covered with her long white dress, her pale face full ofsubdued emotion, almost like a lovely corpse into which the soul hasreturned charged with sublimer secrets and a sublimer love. They werenearly of the same height; Dinah evidently a little the taller as sheput her arm round Hetty's waist and kissed her forehead.

  "I knew you were not in bed, my dear," she said, in her sweet clearvoice, which was irritating to Hetty, mingling with her own peevishvexation like music with jangling chains, "for I heard you moving; and Ilonged to speak to you again to-night, for it is the last but one thatI shall be here, and we don't know what may happen to-morrow to keep usapart. Shall I sit down with you while you do up your hair?"

  "Oh yes," said Hetty, hastily turning round and reaching the secondchair in the room, glad that Dinah looked as if she did not notice herear-rings.

  Dinah sat down, and Hetty began to brush together her hair beforetwisting it up, doing it with that air of excessive indifference whichbelongs to confused self-consciousness. But the expression of Dinah'seyes gradually relieved her; they seemed unobservant of all details.

  "Dear Hetty," she said, "It has been borne in upon my mind to-night thatyou may some day be in trouble--trouble is appointed for us all herebelow, and there comes a time when we need more comfort and help thanthe things of this life can give. I want to tell you that if ever youare in trouble, and need a friend that will always feel for you and loveyou, you have got that friend in Dinah Morris at Snowfield, and if youcome to her, or send for her, she'll never forget this night and thewords she is speaking to you now. Will you remember it, Hetty?"

  "Yes," said Hetty, rather frightened. "But wh
y should you think I shallbe in trouble? Do you know of anything?"

  Hetty had seated herself as she tied on her cap, and now Dinah leanedforwards and took her hands as she answered, "Because, dear, troublecomes to us all in this life: we set our hearts on things which it isn'tGod's will for us to have, and then we go sorrowing; the people we loveare taken from us, and we can joy in nothing because they are not withus; sickness comes, and we faint under the burden of our feeble bodies;we go astray and do wrong, and bring ourselves into trouble with ourfellow-men. There is no man or woman born into this world to whom someof these trials do not fall, and so I feel that some of them must happento you; and I desire for you, that while you are young you should seekfor strength from your Heavenly Father, that you may have a supportwhich will not fail you in the evil day."

  Dinah paused and released Hetty's hands that she might not hinder her.Hetty sat quite still; she felt no response within herself to Dinah'sanxious affection but Dinah's words uttered with solemn patheticdistinctness, affected her with a chill fear. Her flush had died awayalmost to paleness; she had the timidity of a luxurious pleasure-seekingnature, which shrinks from the hint of pain. Dinah saw the effect, andher tender anxious pleading became the more earnest, till Hetty, full ofa vague fear that something evil was some time to befall her, began tocry.

  It is our habit to say that while the lower nature can never understandthe higher, the higher nature commands a complete view of the lower. ButI think the higher nature has to learn this comprehension, as we learnthe art of vision, by a good deal of hard experience, often with bruisesand gashes incurred in taking things up by the wrong end, and fancyingour space wider than it is. Dinah had never seen Hetty affected in thisway before, and, with her usual benignant hopefulness, she trusted itwas the stirring of a divine impulse. She kissed the sobbing thing, andbegan to cry with her for grateful joy. But Hetty was simply in thatexcitable state of mind in which there is no calculating what turn thefeelings may take from one moment to another, and for the first time shebecame irritated under Dinah's caress. She pushed her away impatiently,and said, with a childish sobbing voice, "Don't talk to me so, Dinah.Why do you come to frighten me? I've never done anything to you. Whycan't you let me be?"

  Poor Dinah felt a pang. She was too wise to persist, and only saidmildly, "Yes, my dear, you're tired; I won't hinder you any longer. Makehaste and get into bed. Good-night."

  She went out of the room almost as quietly and quickly as if she hadbeen a ghost; but once by the side of her own bed, she threw herself onher knees and poured out in deep silence all the passionate pity thatfilled her heart.

  As for Hetty, she was soon in the wood again--her waking dreams beingmerged in a sleeping life scarcely more fragmentary and confused.