Middlemarch

CHAPTER XXXVI.

”'Tis strange to see the humors of these men, These great aspiring spirits, that should be wise: . . . . . . . . For being the nature of great spirits to love To be where they may be most eminent; They, rating of themselves so farre above Us in conceit, with whom they do frequent, Imagine how we wonder and esteeme All that they do or say; which makes them strive To make our admiration more extreme, Which they suppose they cannot, 'less they give Notice of their extreme and highest thoughts. --DANIEL: Tragedy of Philotas.

Mr. Vincy went home from the reading of the will with his point of viewconsiderably changed in relation to many subjects. He was anopen-minded man, but given to indirect modes of expressing himself:when he was disappointed in a market for his silk braids, he swore atthe groom; when his brother-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, he madecutting remarks on Methodism; and it was now apparent that he regardedFred's idleness with a sudden increase of severity, by his throwing anembroidered cap out of the smoking-room on to the hall-floor.

”Well, sir,” he observed, when that young gentleman was moving off tobed, ”I hope you've made up your mind now to go up next term and passyour examination. I've taken my resolution, so I advise you to lose notime in taking yours.”

Fred made no answer: he was too utterly depressed. Twenty-four hoursago he had thought that instead of needing to know what he should do,he should by this time know that he needed to do nothing: that heshould hunt in pink, have a first-rate hunter, ride to cover on a finehack, and be generally respected for doing so; moreover, that he shouldbe able at once to pay Mr. Garth, and that Mary could no longer haveany reason for not marrying him. And all this was to have come withoutstudy or other inconvenience, purely by the favor of providence in theshape of an old gentleman's caprice. But now, at the end of thetwenty-four hours, all those firm expectations were upset. It was”rather hard lines” that while he was smarting under thisdisappointment he should be treated as if he could have helped it. Buthe went away silently and his mother pleaded for him.

”Don't be hard on the poor boy, Vincy. He'll turn out well yet, thoughthat wicked man has deceived him. I feel as sure as I sit here, Fredwill turn out well--else why was he brought back from the brink of thegrave? And I call it a robbery: it was like giving him the land, topromise it; and what is promising, if making everybody believe is notpromising? And you see he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and thentook it away again.”

”Took it away again!” said Mr. Vincy, pettishly. ”I tell you the lad'san unlucky lad, Lucy. And you've always spoiled him.”

”Well, Vincy, he was my first, and you made a fine fuss with him whenhe came. You were as proud as proud,” said Mrs. Vincy, easilyrecovering her cheerful smile.

”Who knows what babies will turn to? I was fool enough, I dare say,”said the husband--more mildly, however.

”But who has handsomer, better children than ours? Fred is far beyondother people's sons: you may hear it in his speech, that he has keptcollege company. And Rosamond--where is there a girl like her? Shemight stand beside any lady in the land, and only look the better forit. You see--Mr. Lydgate has kept the highest company and beeneverywhere, and he fell in love with her at once. Not but what I couldhave wished Rosamond had not engaged herself. She might have metsomebody on a visit who would have been a far better match; I mean ather schoolfellow Miss Willoughby's. There are relations in that familyquite as high as Mr. Lydgate's.”

”Damn relations!” said Mr. Vincy; ”I've had enough of them. I don'twant a son-in-law who has got nothing but his relations to recommendhim.”

”Why, my dear,” said Mrs. Vincy, ”you seemed as pleased as could beabout it. It's true, I wasn't at home; but Rosamond told me you hadn'ta word to say against the engagement. And she has begun to buy in thebest linen and cambric for her underclothing.”

”Not by my will,” said Mr. Vincy. ”I shall have enough to do thisyear, with an idle scamp of a son, without paying for wedding-clothes.The times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and Idon't believe Lydgate has got a farthing. I shan't give my consent totheir marrying. Let 'em wait, as their elders have done before 'em.”

”Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bearto cross her.”

”Yes, I could. The sooner the engagement's off, the better. I don'tbelieve he'll ever make an income, the way he goes on. He makesenemies; that's all I hear of his making.”

”But he stands very high with Mr. Bulstrode, my dear. The marriagewould please _him_, I should think.”

”Please the deuce!” said Mr. Vincy. ”Bulstrode won't pay for theirkeep. And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to give money for them to set uphousekeeping, he's mistaken, that's all. I expect I shall have to putdown my horses soon. You'd better tell Rosy what I say.”

This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincy--to be rash injovial assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had beenrash, to employ others in making the offensive retractation. However,Mrs. Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time thenext morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said. Rosamond,examining some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave acertain turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience couldteach you that it meant perfect obstinacy.

”What do you say, my dear?” said her mother, with affectionatedeference.

”Papa does not mean anything of the kind,” said Rosamond, quite calmly.”He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved. And Ishall marry Mr. Lydgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave hisconsent. And I hope we shall have Mrs. Bretton's house.”

”Well, my dear, I shall leave you to manage your papa. You always domanage everybody. But if we ever do go and get damask, Sadler's is theplace--far better than Hopkins's. Mrs. Bretton's is very large, though:I should love you to have such a house; but it will take a great dealof furniture--carpeting and everything, besides plate and glass. Andyou hear, your papa says he will give no money. Do you think Mr.Lydgate expects it?”

”You cannot imagine that I should ask him, mamma. Of course heunderstands his own affairs.”

”But he may have been looking for money, my dear, and we all thought ofyour having a pretty legacy as well as Fred;--and now everything is sodreadful--there's no pleasure in thinking of anything, with that poorboy disappointed as he is.”

”That has nothing to do with my marriage, mamma. Fred must leave offbeing idle. I am going up-stairs to take this work to Miss Morgan: shedoes the open hemming very well. Mary Garth might do some work for menow, I should think. Her sewing is exquisite; it is the nicest thing Iknow about Mary. I should so like to have all my cambric frillingdouble-hemmed. And it takes a long time.”

Mrs. Vincy's belief that Rosamond could manage her papa was wellfounded. Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Vincy,blustering as he was, had as little of his own way as if he had been aprime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much for him,as it is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the circumstancecalled Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that mildpersistence which, as we know, enables a white soft living substance tomake its way in spite of opposing rock. Papa was not a rock: he had noother fixity than that fixity of alternating impulses sometimes calledhabit, and this was altogether unfavorable to his taking the onlydecisive line of conduct in relation to his daughter'sengagement--namely, to inquire thoroughly into Lydgate's circumstances,declare his own inability to furnish money, and forbid alike either aspeedy marriage or an engagement which must be too lengthy. That seemsvery simple and easy in the statement; but a disagreeable resolveformed in the chill hours of the morning had as many conditions againstit as the early frost, and rarely persisted under the warminginfluences of the day. The indirect though emphatic expression ofopinion to which Mr. Vincy was prone suffered much restraint in thiscase: Lydgate was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviouslyunsafe, and throwing his hat on the floor was out of the question. Mr.Vincy was a little in awe of him, a little vain that he wanted to marryRosamond, a little indisposed to raise a question of money in which hisown position was not advantageous, a little afraid of being worsted indialogue with a man better educated and more highly bred than himself,and a little afraid of doing what his daughter would not like. Thepart Mr. Vincy preferred playing was that of the generous host whomnobody criticises. In the earlier half of the day there was businessto hinder any formal communication of an adverse resolve; in the laterthere was dinner, wine, whist, and general satisfaction. And in themean while the hours were each leaving their little deposit andgradually forming the final reason for inaction, namely, that actionwas too late. The accepted lover spent most of his evenings in LowickGate, and a love-making not at all dependent on money-advances fromfathers-in-law, or prospective income from a profession, went onflourishingly under Mr. Vincy's own eyes. Young love-making--thatgossamer web! Even the points it clings to--the things whence itssubtle interlacings are swung--are scarcely perceptible: momentarytouches of fingertips, meetings of rays from blue and dark orbs,unfinished phrases, lightest changes of cheek and lip, faintesttremors. The web itself is made of spontaneous beliefs and indefinablejoys, yearnings of one life towards another, visions of completeness,indefinite trust. And Lydgate fell to spinning that web from hisinward self with wonderful rapidity, in spite of experience supposed tobe finished off with the drama of Laure--in spite too of medicine andbiology; for the inspection of macerated muscle or of eyes presented ina dish (like Santa Lucia's), and other incidents of scientific inquiry,are observed to be less incompatible with poetic love than a nativedulness or a lively addiction to the lowest prose. As for Rosamond,she was in the water-lily's expanding wonderment at its own fullerlife, and she too was spinning industriously at the mutual web. Allthis went on in the corner of the drawing-room where the piano stood,and subtle as it was, the light made it a sort of rainbow visible tomany observers besides Mr. Farebrother. The certainty that Miss Vincyand Mr. Lydgate were engaged became general in Middlemarch without theaid of formal announcement.

Aunt Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but this time sheaddressed herself to her brother, going to the warehouse expressly toavoid Mrs. Vincy's volatility. His replies were not satisfactory.

”Walter, you never mean to tell me that you have allowed all this to goon without inquiry into Mr. Lydgate's prospects?” said Mrs. Bulstrode,opening her eyes with wider gravity at her brother, who was in hispeevish warehouse humor. ”Think of this girl brought up in luxury--intoo worldly a way, I am sorry to say--what will she do on a smallincome?”

”Oh, confound it, Harriet! What can I do when men come into the townwithout any asking of mine? Did you shut your house up againstLydgate? Bulstrode has pushed him forward more than anybody. I nevermade any fuss about the young fellow. You should go and talk to yourhusband about it, not me.”

”Well, really, Walter, how can Mr. Bulstrode be to blame? I am sure hedid not wish for the engagement.”

”Oh, if Bulstrode had not taken him by the hand, I should never haveinvited him.”

”But you called him in to attend on Fred, and I am sure that was amercy,” said Mrs. Bulstrode, losing her clew in the intricacies of thesubject.

”I don't know about mercy,” said Mr. Vincy, testily. ”I know I amworried more than I like with my family. I was a good brother to you,Harriet, before you married Bulstrode, and I must say he doesn't alwaysshow that friendly spirit towards your family that might have beenexpected of him.” Mr. Vincy was very little like a Jesuit, but noaccomplished Jesuit could have turned a question more adroitly.Harriet had to defend her husband instead of blaming her brother, andthe conversation ended at a point as far from the beginning as somerecent sparring between the brothers-in-law at a vestry meeting.

Mrs. Bulstrode did not repeat her brother's complaints to her husband,but in the evening she spoke to him of Lydgate and Rosamond. He didnot share her warm interest, however; and only spoke with resignationof the risks attendant on the beginning of medical practice and thedesirability of prudence.

”I am sure we are bound to pray for that thoughtless girl--brought upas she has been,” said Mrs. Bulstrode, wishing to rouse her husband'sfeelings.

”Truly, my dear,” said Mr. Bulstrode, assentingly. ”Those who are notof this world can do little else to arrest the errors of theobstinately worldly. That is what we must accustom ourselves torecognize with regard to your brother's family. I could have wishedthat Mr. Lydgate had not entered into such a union; but my relationswith him are limited to that use of his gifts for God's purposes whichis taught us by the divine government under each dispensation.”

Mrs. Bulstrode said no more, attributing some dissatisfaction which shefelt to her own want of spirituality. She believed that her husbandwas one of those men whose memoirs should be written when they died.

As to Lydgate himself, having been accepted, he was prepared to acceptall the consequences which he believed himself to foresee with perfectclearness. Of course he must be married in a year--perhaps even inhalf a year. This was not what he had intended; but other schemeswould not be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew.Marriage, of course, must be prepared for in the usual way. A housemust be taken instead of the rooms he at present occupied; and Lydgate,having heard Rosamond speak with admiration of old Mrs. Bretton's house(situated in Lowick Gate), took notice when it fell vacant after theold lady's death, and immediately entered into treaty for it.

He did this in an episodic way, very much as he gave orders to histailor for every requisite of perfect dress, without any notion ofbeing extravagant. On the contrary, he would have despised anyostentation of expense; his profession had familiarized him with allgrades of poverty, and he cared much for those who suffered hardships.He would have behaved perfectly at a table where the sauce was servedin a jug with the handle off, and he would have remembered nothingabout a grand dinner except that a man was there who talked well. Butit had never occurred to him that he should live in any other than whathe would have called an ordinary way, with green glasses for hock, andexcellent waiting at table. In warming himself at French socialtheories he had brought away no smell of scorching. We may handle evenextreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-giving,and preference for armorial bearings in our own case, link usindissolubly with the established order. And Lydgate's tendency wasnot towards extreme opinions: he would have liked no barefooteddoctrines, being particular about his boots: he was no radical inrelation to anything but medical reform and the prosecution ofdiscovery. In the rest of practical life he walked by hereditaryhabit; half from that personal pride and unreflecting egoism which Ihave already called commonness, and half from that naivete whichbelonged to preoccupation with favorite ideas.

Any inward debate Lydgate had as to the consequences of this engagementwhich had stolen upon him, turned on the paucity of time rather than ofmoney. Certainly, being in love and being expected continually by someone who always turned out to be prettier than memory could representher to be, did interfere with the diligent use of spare hours whichmight serve some ”plodding fellow of a German” to make the great,imminent discovery. This was really an argument for not deferring themarriage too long, as he implied to Mr. Farebrother, one day that theVicar came to his room with some pond-products which he wanted toexamine under a better microscope than his own, and, finding Lydgate'stableful of apparatus and specimens in confusion, said sarcastically--

”Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, andnow he brings back chaos.”

”Yes, at some stages,” said Lydgate, lifting his brows and smiling,while he began to arrange his microscope. ”But a better order willbegin after.”

”Soon?” said the Vicar.

”I hope so, really. This unsettled state of affairs uses up the time,and when one has notions in science, every moment is an opportunity. Ifeel sure that marriage must be the best thing for a man who wants towork steadily. He has everything at home then--no teasing withpersonal speculations--he can get calmness and freedom.”

”You are an enviable dog,” said the Vicar, ”to have such aprospect--Rosamond, calmness and freedom, all to your share. Here amI with nothing but my pipe and pond-animalcules. Now, are you ready?”

Lydgate did not mention to the Vicar another reason he had for wishingto shorten the period of courtship. It was rather irritating to him,even with the wine of love in his veins, to be obliged to mingle sooften with the family party at the Vincys', and to enter so much intoMiddlemarch gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing, and generalfutility. He had to be deferential when Mr. Vincy decided questionswith trenchant ignorance, especially as to those liquors which were thebest inward pickle, preserving you from the effects of bad air. Mrs.Vincy's openness and simplicity were quite unstreaked with suspicion asto the subtle offence she might give to the taste of her intendedson-in-law; and altogether Lydgate had to confess to himself that hewas descending a little in relation to Rosamond's family. But thatexquisite creature herself suffered in the same sort of way:--it wasat least one delightful thought that in marrying her, he could give hera much-needed transplantation.

”Dear!” he said to her one evening, in his gentlest tone, as he satdown by her and looked closely at her face--

But I must first say that he had found her alone in the drawing-room,where the great old-fashioned window, almost as large as the side ofthe room, was opened to the summer scents of the garden at the back ofthe house. Her father and mother were gone to a party, and the restwere all out with the butterflies.

”Dear! your eyelids are red.”

”Are they?” said Rosamond. ”I wonder why.” It was not in her natureto pour forth wishes or grievances. They only came forth gracefully onsolicitation.

”As if you could hide it from me!” said Lydgate, laying his handtenderly on both of hers. ”Don't I see a tiny drop on one of thelashes? Things trouble you, and you don't tell me. That is unloving.”

”Why should I tell you what you cannot alter? They are every-daythings:--perhaps they have been a little worse lately.”

”Family annoyances. Don't fear speaking. I guess them.”

”Papa has been more irritable lately. Fred makes him angry, and thismorning there was a fresh quarrel because Fred threatens to throw hiswhole education away, and do something quite beneath him. Andbesides--”

Rosamond hesitated, and her cheeks were gathering a slight flush.Lydgate had never seen her in trouble since the morning of theirengagement, and he had never felt so passionately towards her as atthis moment. He kissed the hesitating lips gently, as if to encouragethem.

”I feel that papa is not quite pleased about our engagement,” Rosamondcontinued, almost in a whisper; ”and he said last night that he shouldcertainly speak to you and say it must be given up.”

”Will you give it up?” said Lydgate, with quick energy--almost angrily.

”I never give up anything that I choose to do,” said Rosamond,recovering her calmness at the touching of this chord.

”God bless you!” said Lydgate, kissing her again. This constancy ofpurpose in the right place was adorable. He went on:--

”It is too late now for your father to say that our engagement must begiven up. You are of age, and I claim you as mine. If anything isdone to make you unhappy,--that is a reason for hastening our marriage.”

An unmistakable delight shone forth from the blue eyes that met his,and the radiance seemed to light up all his future with mild sunshine.Ideal happiness (of the kind known in the Arabian Nights, in which youare invited to step from the labor and discord of the street into aparadise where everything is given to you and nothing claimed) seemedto be an affair of a few weeks' waiting, more or less.

”Why should we defer it?” he said, with ardent insistence. ”I havetaken the house now: everything else can soon be got ready--can itnot? You will not mind about new clothes. Those can be boughtafterwards.”

”What original notions you clever men have!” said Rosamond, dimplingwith more thorough laughter than usual at this humorous incongruity.”This is the first time I ever heard of wedding-clothes being boughtafter marriage.”

”But you don't mean to say you would insist on my waiting months forthe sake of clothes?” said Lydgate, half thinking that Rosamond wastormenting him prettily, and half fearing that she really shrank fromspeedy marriage. ”Remember, we are looking forward to a better sort ofhappiness even than this--being continually together, independent ofothers, and ordering our lives as we will. Come, dear, tell me howsoon you can be altogether mine.”

There was a serious pleading in Lydgate's tone, as if he felt that shewould be injuring him by any fantastic delays. Rosamond became serioustoo, and slightly meditative; in fact, she was going through manyintricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in orderto give an answer that would at least be approximative.

”Six weeks would be ample--say so, Rosamond,” insisted Lydgate,releasing her hands to put his arm gently round her.

One little hand immediately went to pat her hair, while she gave herneck a meditative turn, and then said seriously--

”There would be the house-linen and the furniture to be prepared.Still, mamma could see to those while we were away.”

”Yes, to be sure. We must be away a week or so.”

”Oh, more than that!” said Rosamond, earnestly. She was thinking ofher evening dresses for the visit to Sir Godwin Lydgate's, which shehad long been secretly hoping for as a delightful employment of atleast one quarter of the honeymoon, even if she deferred herintroduction to the uncle who was a doctor of divinity (also a pleasingthough sober kind of rank, when sustained by blood). She looked at herlover with some wondering remonstrance as she spoke, and he readilyunderstood that she might wish to lengthen the sweet time of doublesolitude.

”Whatever you wish, my darling, when the day is fixed. But let us takea decided course, and put an end to any discomfort you may besuffering. Six weeks!--I am sure they would be ample.”

”I could certainly hasten the work,” said Rosamond. ”Will you, then,mention it to papa?--I think it would be better to write to him.” Sheblushed and looked at him as the garden flowers look at us when we walkforth happily among them in the transcendent evening light: is therenot a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half child, in those delicatepetals which glow and breathe about the centres of deep color?

He touched her ear and a little bit of neck under it with his lips, andthey sat quite still for many minutes which flowed by them like a smallgurgling brook with the kisses of the sun upon it. Rosamond thoughtthat no one could be more in love than she was; and Lydgate thoughtthat after all his wild mistakes and absurd credulity, he had foundperfect womanhood--felt as if already breathed upon by exquisite weddedaffection such as would be bestowed by an accomplished creature whovenerated his high musings and momentous labors and would neverinterfere with them; who would create order in the home and accountswith still magic, yet keep her fingers ready to touch the lute andtransform life into romance at any moment; who was instructed to thetrue womanly limit and not a hair's-breadth beyond--docile, therefore,and ready to carry out behests which came from that limit. It wasplainer now than ever that his notion of remaining much longer abachelor had been a mistake: marriage would not be an obstruction but afurtherance. And happening the next day to accompany a patient toBrassing, he saw a dinner-service there which struck him as so exactlythe right thing that he bought it at once. It saved time to do thesethings just when you thought of them, and Lydgate hated ugly crockery.The dinner-service in question was expensive, but that might be in thenature of dinner-services. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; butthen it had to be done only once.

”It must be lovely,” said Mrs. Vincy, when Lydgate mentioned hispurchase with some descriptive touches. ”Just what Rosy ought to have.I trust in heaven it won't be broken!”

”One must hire servants who will not break things,” said Lydgate.(Certainly, this was reasoning with an imperfect vision of sequences.But at that period there was no sort of reasoning which was not more orless sanctioned by men of science.)

Of course it was unnecessary to defer the mention of anything to mamma,who did not readily take views that were not cheerful, and being ahappy wife herself, had hardly any feeling but pride in her daughter'smarriage. But Rosamond had good reasons for suggesting to Lydgate thatpapa should be appealed to in writing. She prepared for the arrival ofthe letter by walking with her papa to the warehouse the next morning,and telling him on the way that Mr. Lydgate wished to be married soon.

”Nonsense, my dear!” said Mr. Vincy. ”What has he got to marry on?You'd much better give up the engagement. I've told you so prettyplainly before this. What have you had such an education for, if youare to go and marry a poor man? It's a cruel thing for a father tosee.”

”Mr. Lydgate is not poor, papa. He bought Mr. Peacock's practice,which, they say, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year.”

”Stuff and nonsense! What's buying a practice? He might as well buynext year's swallows. It'll all slip through his fingers.”

”On the contrary, papa, he will increase the practice. See how he hasbeen called in by the Chettams and Casaubons.”

”I hope he knows I shan't give anything--with this disappointment aboutFred, and Parliament going to be dissolved, and machine-breakingeverywhere, and an election coming on--”

”Dear papa! what can that have to do with my marriage?”

”A pretty deal to do with it! We may all be ruined for what I know--thecountry's in that state! Some say it's the end of the world, andbe hanged if I don't think it looks like it! Anyhow, it's not a timefor me to be drawing money out of my business, and I should wishLydgate to know that.”

”I am sure he expects nothing, papa. And he has such very highconnections: he is sure to rise in one way or another. He is engagedin making scientific discoveries.”

Mr. Vincy was silent.

”I cannot give up my only prospect of happiness, papa. Mr. Lydgate is agentleman. I could never love any one who was not a perfect gentleman.You would not like me to go into a consumption, as Arabella Hawley did.And you know that I never change my mind.”

Again papa was silent.

”Promise me, papa, that you will consent to what we wish. We shallnever give each other up; and you know that you have always objected tolong courtships and late marriages.”

There was a little more urgency of this kind, till Mr. Vincy said,”Well, well, child, he must write to me first before I can answerhim,”--and Rosamond was certain that she had gained her point.

Mr. Vincy's answer consisted chiefly in a demand that Lydgate shouldinsure his life--a demand immediately conceded. This was adelightfully reassuring idea supposing that Lydgate died, but in themean time not a self-supporting idea. However, it seemed to makeeverything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage; and the necessarypurchases went on with much spirit. Not without prudentialconsiderations, however. A bride (who is going to visit at abaronet's) must have a few first-rate pocket-handkerchiefs; but beyondthe absolutely necessary half-dozen, Rosamond contented herself withoutthe very highest style of embroidery and Valenciennes. Lydgate also,finding that his sum of eight hundred pounds had been considerablyreduced since he had come to Middlemarch, restrained his inclinationfor some plate of an old pattern which was shown to him when he wentinto Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy forks and spoons. Hewas too proud to act as if he presupposed that Mr. Vincy would advancemoney to provide furniture; and though, since it would not benecessary to pay for everything at once, some bills would be leftstanding over, he did not waste time in conjecturing how much hisfather-in-law would give in the form of dowry, to make payment easy.He was not going to do anything extravagant, but the requisite thingsmust be bought, and it would be bad economy to buy them of a poorquality. All these matters were by the bye. Lydgate foresaw thatscience and his profession were the objects he should alone pursueenthusiastically; but he could not imagine himself pursuing them insuch a home as Wrench had--the doors all open, the oil-cloth worn, thechildren in soiled pinafores, and lunch lingering in the form of bones,black-handled knives, and willow-pattern. But Wrench had a wretchedlymphatic wife who made a mummy of herself indoors in a large shawl;and he must have altogether begun with an ill-chosen domestic apparatus.

Rosamond, however, was on her side much occupied with conjectures,though her quick imitative perception warned her against betraying themtoo crudely.

”I shall like so much to know your family,” she said one day, when thewedding journey was being discussed. ”We might perhaps take adirection that would allow us to see them as we returned. Which ofyour uncles do you like best?”

”Oh,--my uncle Godwin, I think. He is a good-natured old fellow.”

”You were constantly at his house at Quallingham, when you were a boy,were you not? I should so like to see the old spot and everything youwere used to. Does he know you are going to be married?”

”No,” said Lydgate, carelessly, turning in his chair and rubbing hishair up.

”Do send him word of it, you naughty undutiful nephew. He will perhapsask you to take me to Quallingham; and then you could show me about thegrounds, and I could imagine you there when you were a boy. Remember,you see me in my home, just as it has been since I was a child. It isnot fair that I should be so ignorant of yours. But perhaps you wouldbe a little ashamed of me. I forgot that.”

Lydgate smiled at her tenderly, and really accepted the suggestion thatthe proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth sometrouble. And now he came to think of it, he would like to see the oldspots with Rosamond.

”I will write to him, then. But my cousins are bores.”

It seemed magnificent to Rosamond to be able to speak so slightingly ofa baronet's family, and she felt much contentment in the prospect ofbeing able to estimate them contemptuously on her own account.

But mamma was near spoiling all, a day or two later, by saying--

”I hope your uncle Sir Godwin will not look down on Rosy, Mr. Lydgate.I should think he would do something handsome. A thousand or two canbe nothing to a baronet.”

”Mamma!” said Rosamond, blushing deeply; and Lydgate pitied her so muchthat he remained silent and went to the other end of the room toexamine a print curiously, as if he had been absent-minded. Mamma had alittle filial lecture afterwards, and was docile as usual. ButRosamond reflected that if any of those high-bred cousins who werebores, should be induced to visit Middlemarch, they would see manythings in her own family which might shock them. Hence it seemeddesirable that Lydgate should by-and-by get some first-rate positionelsewhere than in Middlemarch; and this could hardly be difficult inthe case of a man who had a titled uncle and could make discoveries.Lydgate, you perceive, had talked fervidly to Rosamond of his hopes asto the highest uses of his life, and had found it delightful to belistened to by a creature who would bring him the sweet furtherance ofsatisfying affection--beauty--repose--such help as our thoughts getfrom the summer sky and the flower-fringed meadows.

Lydgate relied much on the psychological difference between what forthe sake of variety I will call goose and gander: especially on theinnate submissiveness of the goose as beautifully corresponding to thestrength of the gander.