Felix Holt, the Radical
CHAPTER XVIII.
The little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.
--WORDSWORTH: _Tintern Abbey_.
Jermyn did not forget to pay his visit to the minister in Malthouse Yardthat evening. The mingled irritation, dread and defiance which he wasfeeling toward Harold Transome in the middle of the day depended on toomany and far-stretching causes to be dissipated by eight o'clock; butwhen he left Mr. Lyon's house he was in a state of comparative triumphin the belief that he, and he alone, was now in possession of factswhich, once grouped together, made a secret that gave him new power overHarold.
Mr. Lyon, in his need for help from one who had that wisdom of theserpent which, he argued, is not forbidden, but is only of hardacquirement to dovelike innocence, had been gradually led to pour out tothe attorney all the reasons which made him desire to know the truthabout the man who called himself Maurice Christian: he had shown all theprecious relics, the locket, the letters, and the marriage certificate.And Jermyn had comforted him by confidently promising to ascertain,without scandal or premature betrayals, whether this man were reallyAnnette's husband, or Maurice Christian Bycliffe.
Jermyn was not rash in making this promise, since he had excellentreasons for believing that he had already come to a true conclusion onthe subject. But he wished both to know a little more of this manhimself, and to keep Mr. Lyon in ignorance--not a difficultprecaution--in an affair which it cost the minister so much pain tospeak of. An easy opportunity of getting an interview with Christian wassure to offer itself before long--might even offer itself to-morrow.Jermyn had seen him more than once, though hitherto without any reasonfor observing him with interest; he had heard that Philip Debarry'scourier was often busy in the town, and it seemed specially likely thathe would be seen there when the market was to be agitated by politics,and the new candidate was to show his paces.
The world of which Treby Magna was the centre was, naturally, curious tosee the young Transome, who had come from the East, was as rich as aJew, and called himself a Radical--characteristics all equally vague inthe minds of various excellent ratepayers, who drove to market in theirtaxed carts or in their hereditary gigs. Places at convenient windowshad been secured beforehand for a few best bonnets; but, in general, aRadical candidate excited no ardent feminine partisanship, even amongthe Dissenters in Treby, if they were of the prosperous andlong-resident class. Some chapel-going ladies were fond of rememberingthat "their family had been Church"; others objected to politicsaltogether as having spoiled old neighborliness, and sundered friendswho had kindred views as to cowslip wine and Michaelmas cleaning;others, of the melancholy sort, said it would be well if people wouldthink less of reforming Parliament and more of pleasing God.Irreproachable Dissenting matrons, like Mrs. Muscat, whose youth hadbeen passed in a short-waisted bodice and tight skirt, had never beenanimated by the struggle for liberty, and had a timid suspicion thatreligion was desecrated by being applied to the things of this world.Since Mr. Lyon had been in Malthouse Yard there had been far too muchmixing up of politics with religion but, at any rate, these ladies hadnever yet been to hear speechifying in the market-place, and they werenot going to begin that practice.
Esther, however, had heard some of her feminine acquaintances say thatthey intended to sit at the druggist's upper window, and she wasinclined to ask her father if he could think of a suitable place whereshe also might see and hear. Two inconsistent motives urged her. Sheknew that Felix cared earnestly for public questions, and she supposedthat he held it one of her deficiencies not to care about them: well,she would try to learn the secret of this ardor, which was so strong inhim that it animated what she thought the dullest form of life. She wasnot too stupid to find it out. But this self-correcting motive waspresently displaced by a motive of a different sort. It had been apleasant variety in her monotonous days to see a man like HaroldTransome, with a distinguished appearance and polished manners, and shewould like to see him again: he suggested to her that brighter and moreluxurious life on which her imagination dwelt without the painful effortit required to conceive the mental condition which would place her incomplete sympathy with Felix Holt. It was this less unaccustomedprompting of which she was chiefly conscious when she awaited herfather's coming down to breakfast. Why, indeed, should she troubleherself so much about Felix?
Mr. Lyon, more serene now that he had unbosomed his anxieties andobtained a promise of help, was already swimming so happily in the deepwater of polemics in expectation of Philip Debarry's answer to hischallenge, that, in the occupation of making a few notes lest certainfelicitous inspirations should be wasted, he had forgotten to come downto breakfast. Esther, suspecting his abstraction, went up to his study,and found him at his desk looking up with wonder at her interruption.
"Come, father, you have forgotten your breakfast."
"It is true, child, I will come," he said, lingering to make some finalstrokes.
"Oh, you naughty father!" said Esther, as he got up from his chair,"your coat-collar is twisted, your waistcoat is buttoned all wrong, andyou have not brushed your hair. Sit down and let me brush it again as Idid yesterday."
He sat down obediently, while Esther took a towel, which she threw overhis shoulders, and then brushed the thick, long fringe of soft auburnhair. This very trifling act, which she had brought herself to for thefirst time yesterday, meant a great deal in Esther's little history. Ithad been her habit to leave the mending of her father's clothes toLyddy; she had not liked even to touch his cloth garments; still lesshad it seemed a thing she would willingly undertake to correct histoilette, and use a brush for him. But having once done this, under hernew sense of faulty omission, the affectionateness that was in herflowed so pleasantly, as she saw how much her father was moved by whathe thought a great act of tenderness, that she quite longed to repeatit. This morning, as he sat under her hands, his face had such a calmdelight in it that she could not help kissing the top of his bald head;and afterward, when they were seated at breakfast, she said, merrily--
"Father, I shall make a _petit maitre_ of you by-and-by; your hair looksso pretty and silken when it is well brushed."
"Nay, child, I trust that while I would willingly depart from my evilhabit of a somewhat slovenly forgetfulness in my attire, I shall neverarrive at the opposite extreme. For though there is that in apparelwhich pleases the eye, and I deny not that your neat gown and the colorthereof--which is that of certain little flowers that spread themselvesin the hedgerows, and make a blueness there as of the sky when it isdeepened in the water--I deny not, I say, that these minor strivingsafter a perfection which is, as it were, an irrecoverable yet hauntingmemory, are a good in their proportion. Nevertheless, the brevity of ourlife, and the hurry and crush of the great battle with error and sin,often oblige us to an advised neglect of what is less momentous. This, Iconceive, is the principle on which my friend Felix Holt acts; and Icannot but think the light comes from the true fount, though it shinesthrough obstructions."
"You have not seen Mr. Holt since Sunday, have you, father?"
"Yes, he was here yesterday. He sought Mr. Transome, having a matter ofsome importance to speak upon with him. And I saw him afterward in thestreet, when he agreed that I should call for him this morning before Igo into the market-place. He will have it," Mr. Lyon went on, smiling,"that I must not walk about in the crowd without him to act as myspecial constable."
Esther felt vexed with herself that her heart was suddenly beating withunusual quickness, and that her last resolution not to trouble herselfabout what Felix thought had transformed itself with magic swiftnessinto mortification that he evidently avoided coming to the house whenshe was there, though he used to come on the slightest occasion. He knewthat she was always at home until the afternoon on market-days: that wasthe reason why he would not call for her father. Of course it wasbecause he attributed such littleness to her that he supposed she wouldretain nothing else than a feeling of offence toward him for
what he hadsaid to her. Such distrust of any good in others, such arrogance ofimmeasurable superiority, was extremely ungenerous. But presently shesaid--
"I should have liked to hear Mr. Transome speak, but I suppose it is toolate to get a place now."
"I am not sure, I would fain have you go if you desire it, my dear,"said Mr. Lyon, who could not bear to deny Esther any lawful wish. "Walkwith me to Mrs. Holt's, and we will learn from Felix, who will doubtlessalready have been out, whether or not he could lead you in safety toFriend Lambert's."
Esther was glad of the proposal, because, if it answered no otherpurpose, it would be an easy way of obliging Felix to see her, and ofshowing him that it was not she who cherished offence. But when, laterin the morning, she was walking toward Mrs. Holt's with her father, theymet Mr. Jermyn, who stopped them to ask, in his most affable manner,whether Miss Lyon intended to hear the candidate, and whether she hadsecured a suitable place. And he ended by insisting that his daughters,who were presently coming in an open carriage, should call for her ifshe would permit them. It was impossible to refuse this civility, andEsther turned back to await the carriage, pleased with the certainty ofhearing and seeing, yet sorry to miss Felix. There was another day forher to think of him with unsatisfied resentment, mixed with somelongings for a better understanding: and in our spring-time every dayhas its hidden growths in the mind, as it has in the earth when thelittle folded blades are getting ready to pierce the ground.