Middlemarch

CHAPTER LXXXV.

”Then went the jury out whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the foreman, said, I see clearly that this man is a heretic. Then said Mr. No-good, Away with such a fellow from the earth! Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very look of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose; for he would be always condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the way said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to him; therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death.” --Pilgrim's Progress.

When immortal Bunyan makes his picture of the persecuting passionsbringing in their verdict of guilty, who pities Faithful? That is arare and blessed lot which some greatest men have not attained, to knowourselves guiltless before a condemning crowd--to be sure that what weare denounced for is solely the good in us. The pitiable lot is thatof the man who could not call himself a martyr even though he were topersuade himself that the men who stoned him were but ugly passionsincarnate--who knows that he is stoned, not for professing the Right,but for not being the man he professed to be.

This was the consciousness that Bulstrode was withering under while hemade his preparations for departing from Middlemarch, and going to endhis stricken life in that sad refuge, the indifference of new faces.The duteous merciful constancy of his wife had delivered him from onedread, but it could not hinder her presence from being still a tribunalbefore which he shrank from confession and desired advocacy. Hisequivocations with himself about the death of Raffles had sustained theconception of an Omniscience whom he prayed to, yet he had a terrorupon him which would not let him expose them to judgment by a fullconfession to his wife: the acts which he had washed and diluted withinward argument and motive, and for which it seemed comparatively easyto win invisible pardon--what name would she call them by? That sheshould ever silently call his acts Murder was what he could not bear.He felt shrouded by her doubt: he got strength to face her from thesense that she could not yet feel warranted in pronouncing that worstcondemnation on him. Some time, perhaps--when he was dying--he wouldtell her all: in the deep shadow of that time, when she held his handin the gathering darkness, she might listen without recoiling from histouch. Perhaps: but concealment had been the habit of his life, andthe impulse to confession had no power against the dread of a deeperhumiliation.

He was full of timid care for his wife, not only because he deprecatedany harshness of judgment from her, but because he felt a deep distressat the sight of her suffering. She had sent her daughters away toboard at a school on the coast, that this crisis might be hidden fromthem as far as possible. Set free by their absence from theintolerable necessity of accounting for her grief or of beholding theirfrightened wonder, she could live unconstrainedly with the sorrow thatwas every day streaking her hair with whiteness and making her eyelidslanguid.

”Tell me anything that you would like to have me do, Harriet,”Bulstrode had said to her; ”I mean with regard to arrangements ofproperty. It is my intention not to sell the land I possess in thisneighborhood, but to leave it to you as a safe provision. If you haveany wish on such subjects, do not conceal it from me.”

A few days afterwards, when she had returned from a visit to herbrother's, she began to speak to her husband on a subject which had forsome time been in her mind.

”I _should_ like to do something for my brother's family, Nicholas; andI think we are bound to make some amends to Rosamond and her husband.Walter says Mr. Lydgate must leave the town, and his practice is almostgood for nothing, and they have very little left to settle anywherewith. I would rather do without something for ourselves, to make someamends to my poor brother's family.”

Mrs. Bulstrode did not wish to go nearer to the facts than in thephrase ”make some amends;” knowing that her husband must understandher. He had a particular reason, which she was not aware of, forwincing under her suggestion. He hesitated before he said--

”It is not possible to carry out your wish in the way you propose, mydear. Mr. Lydgate has virtually rejected any further service from me.He has returned the thousand pounds which I lent him. Mrs. Casaubonadvanced him the sum for that purpose. Here is his letter.”

The letter seemed to cut Mrs. Bulstrode severely. The mention of Mrs.Casaubon's loan seemed a reflection of that public feeling which heldit a matter of course that every one would avoid a connection with herhusband. She was silent for some time; and the tears fell one afterthe other, her chin trembling as she wiped them away. Bulstrode,sitting opposite to her, ached at the sight of that grief-worn face,which two months before had been bright and blooming. It had aged tokeep sad company with his own withered features. Urged into someeffort at comforting her, he said--

”There is another means, Harriet, by which I might do a service to yourbrother's family, if you like to act in it. And it would, I think, bebeneficial to you: it would be an advantageous way of managing the landwhich I mean to be yours.”

She looked attentive.

”Garth once thought of undertaking the management of Stone Court inorder to place your nephew Fred there. The stock was to remain as itis, and they were to pay a certain share of the profits instead of anordinary rent. That would be a desirable beginning for the young man,in conjunction with his employment under Garth. Would it be asatisfaction to you?”

”Yes, it would,” said Mrs. Bulstrode, with some return of energy.”Poor Walter is so cast down; I would try anything in my power to dohim some good before I go away. We have always been brother andsister.”

”You must make the proposal to Garth yourself, Harriet,” said Mr.Bulstrode, not liking what he had to say, but desiring the end he hadin view, for other reasons besides the consolation of his wife. ”Youmust state to him that the land is virtually yours, and that he needhave no transactions with me. Communications can be made throughStandish. I mention this, because Garth gave up being my agent. I canput into your hands a paper which he himself drew up, statingconditions; and you can propose his renewed acceptance of them. Ithink it is not unlikely that he will accept when you propose the thingfor the sake of your nephew.”