Epilogue
IT is near the end of June, in 1807. The workshops have been shutup half an hour or more in Adam Bede's timber-yard, which used tobe Jonathan Burge's, and the mellow evening light is falling on thepleasant house with the buff walls and the soft grey thatch, very muchas it did when we saw Adam bringing in the keys on that June eveningnine years ago.
There is a figure we know well, just come out of the house, and shadingher eyes with her hands as she looks for something in the distance, forthe rays that fall on her white borderless cap and her pale auburn hairare very dazzling. But now she turns away from the sunlight and lookstowards the door.
We can see the sweet pale face quite well now: it is scarcely at allaltered--only a little fuller, to correspond to her more matronlyfigure, which still seems light and active enough in the plain blackdress.
"I see him, Seth," Dinah said, as she looked into the house. "Let us goand meet him. Come, Lisbeth, come with Mother."
The last call was answered immediately by a small fair creature withpale auburn hair and grey eyes, little more than four years old, who ranout silently and put her hand into her mother's.
"Come, Uncle Seth," said Dinah.
"Aye, aye, we're coming," Seth answered from within, and presentlyappeared stooping under the doorway, being taller than usual by theblack head of a sturdy two-year-old nephew, who had caused some delay bydemanding to be carried on uncle's shoulder.
"Better take him on thy arm, Seth," said Dinah, looking fondly at thestout black-eyed fellow. "He's troublesome to thee so."
"Nay, nay: Addy likes a ride on my shoulder. I can carry him so for abit." A kindness which young Addy acknowledged by drumming his heelswith promising force against Uncle Seth's chest. But to walk by Dinah'sside, and be tyrannized over by Dinah's and Adam's children, was UncleSeth's earthly happiness.
"Where didst see him?" asked Seth, as they walked on into the adjoiningfield. "I can't catch sight of him anywhere."
"Between the hedges by the roadside," said Dinah. "I saw his hat and hisshoulder. There he is again."
"Trust thee for catching sight of him if he's anywhere to be seen," saidSeth, smiling. "Thee't like poor mother used to be. She was always onthe look out for Adam, and could see him sooner than other folks, forall her eyes got dim."
"He's been longer than he expected," said Dinah, taking Arthur's watchfrom a small side pocket and looking at it; "it's nigh upon seven now."
"Aye, they'd have a deal to say to one another," said Seth, "and themeeting 'ud touch 'em both pretty closish. Why, it's getting on towardseight years since they parted."
"Yes," said Dinah, "Adam was greatly moved this morning at the thoughtof the change he should see in the poor young man, from the sickness hehas undergone, as well as the years which have changed us all. And thedeath of the poor wanderer, when she was coming back to us, has beensorrow upon sorrow."
"See, Addy," said Seth, lowering the young one to his arm now andpointing, "there's Father coming--at the far stile."
Dinah hastened her steps, and little Lisbeth ran on at her utmost speedtill she clasped her father's leg. Adam patted her head and lifted herup to kiss her, but Dinah could see the marks of agitation on his faceas she approached him, and he put her arm within his in silence.
"Well, youngster, must I take you?" he said, trying to smile, when Addystretched out his arms--ready, with the usual baseness of infancy, togive up his Uncle Seth at once, now there was some rarer patronage athand.
"It's cut me a good deal, Dinah," Adam said at last, when they werewalking on.
"Didst find him greatly altered?" said Dinah.
"Why, he's altered and yet not altered. I should ha' known him anywhere.But his colour's changed, and he looks sadly. However, the doctors sayhe'll soon be set right in his own country air. He's all sound in th'inside; it's only the fever shattered him so. But he speaks just thesame, and smiles at me just as he did when he was a lad. It's wonderfulhow he's always had just the same sort o' look when he smiles."
"I've never seen him smile, poor young man," said Dinah.
"But thee wilt see him smile, to-morrow," said Adam. "He asked afterthee the first thing when he began to come round, and we could talk toone another. 'I hope she isn't altered,' he said, 'I remember her faceso well.' I told him 'no,'" Adam continued, looking fondly at the eyesthat were turned towards his, "only a bit plumper, as thee'dst a rightto be after seven year. 'I may come and see her to-morrow, mayn't I?' hesaid; 'I long to tell her how I've thought of her all these years.'"
"Didst tell him I'd always used the watch?" said Dinah.
"Aye; and we talked a deal about thee, for he says he never saw a womana bit like thee. 'I shall turn Methodist some day,' he said, 'when shepreaches out of doors, and go to hear her.' And I said, 'Nay, sir, youcan't do that, for Conference has forbid the women preaching, and she'sgiven it up, all but talking to the people a bit in their houses.'"
"Ah," said Seth, who could not repress a comment on this point, "and asore pity it was o' Conference; and if Dinah had seen as I did, we'd ha'left the Wesleyans and joined a body that 'ud put no bonds on Christianliberty."
"Nay, lad, nay," said Adam, "she was right and thee wast wrong. There'sno rules so wise but what it's a pity for somebody or other. Most o'the women do more harm nor good with their preaching--they've not gotDinah's gift nor her sperrit--and she's seen that, and she thought itright to set th' example o' submitting, for she's not held from othersorts o' teaching. And I agree with her, and approve o' what she did."
Seth was silent. This was a standing subject of difference rarelyalluded to, and Dinah, wishing to quit it at once, said, "Didstremember, Adam, to speak to Colonel Donnithorne the words my uncle andaunt entrusted to thee?"
"Yes, and he's going to the Hall Farm with Mr. Irwine the day afterto-morrow. Mr. Irwine came in while we were talking about it, and hewould have it as the Colonel must see nobody but thee to-morrow. Hesaid--and he's in the right of it--as it'll be bad for him t' have hisfeelings stirred with seeing many people one after another. 'We mustget you strong and hearty,' he said, 'that's the first thing to be doneArthur, and then you shall have your own way. But I shall keep youunder your old tutor's thumb till then.' Mr. Irwine's fine and joyful athaving him home again."
Adam was silent a little while, and then said, "It was very cutting whenwe first saw one another. He'd never heard about poor Hetty till Mr.Irwine met him in London, for the letters missed him on his journey.The first thing he said to me, when we'd got hold o' one another's handswas, 'I could never do anything for her, Adam--she lived long enoughfor all the suffering--and I'd thought so of the time when I might dosomething for her. But you told me the truth when you said to me once,"There's a sort of wrong that can never be made up for."'"
"Why, there's Mr. and Mrs. Poyser coming in at the yard gate," saidSeth.
"So there is," said Dinah. "Run, Lisbeth, run to meet Aunt Poyser. Comein, Adam, and rest; it has been a hard day for thee."
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Other Works by George Eliot
Scenes of Clerical Life 1857 StoriesAdam Bede 1859 NovelThe Mill on the Floss 1860 NovelSilas Marner 1861 NovelRomola 1863 NovelFelix Holt the Radical 1866 NovelHow Lisa Loved the King 1867 PoemsThe Spanish Gypsy 1868 PoemMiddlemarch 1872 NovelThe Legend of Jubal 1874 PoemDaniel Deronda 1876 NovelImpressions of Theophrastus Such 1879 Essays
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