Felix Holt, the Radical
CHAPTER XXVI.
Consideration like an angel came And whipped the offending Adam out of her; Leaving her body as a paradise To envelope and contain celestial spirits.
--SHAKESPEARE: _Henry V_.
The next morning, after much prayer for the needful strength and wisdom,Mr. Lyon came down stairs with the resolution that another day shouldnot pass without the fulfillment of the task he had laid on himself: butwhat hour he should choose for this solemn disclosure to Esther mustdepend on their mutual occupations. Perhaps he must defer it till theysat up alone together, after Lyddy was gone to bed. But at breakfastEsther said--
"To-day is a holiday, father. My pupils are all going to Duffield to seethe wild beasts. What have you got to do to-day? Come, you are eating nobreakfast. Oh, Lyddy, Lyddy, the eggs are hard again. I wish you wouldnot read Alleyne's 'Alarm' before breakfast; it makes you cry and forgetthe eggs."
"They _are_ hard, and that's the truth; but there's hearts as areharder, Miss Esther," said Lyddy.
"I think not," said Esther. "This is leathery enough for the heart ofthe most obdurate Jew. Pray give it little Zachary for a football."
"Dear, dear, don't you be so light, miss. We may all be dead beforenight."
"You speak out of season, my good Lyddy," said Mr. Lyon, wearily;"depart into the kitchen."
"What have you got to do to-day, father?" persisted Esther. "I have aholiday."
Mr. Lyon felt as if this were a fresh summons not to delay. "I havesomething of great moment to do, my dear; and since you are nototherwise demanded, I will ask you to come and sit with me up-stairs."
Esther wondered what there could be on her father's mind more pressingthan his morning studies.
Soon she knew. Motionless, but mentally stirred as she had never beenbefore, Esther listened to her mother's story, and to the outpouring ofher step-father's long-pent-up experience. The rays of the morning sunwhich fell athwart the books, the sense of the beginning day haddeepened the solemnity more than night would have done. All knowledgewhich alters our lives penetrates us more when it comes in the earlymorning: the day that has to be travelled with something new and perhapsforever sad in its light, is an image of the life that spreads beyond.But at night the time of rest is near.
Mr. Lyon regarded his narrative as a confession--as a revelation to thisbeloved child of his own miserable weakness and error. But to her itseemed a revelation of another sort: her mind seemed suddenly enlargedby a vision of passion and struggle, of delight and renunciation, in thelot of beings who had hitherto been a dull enigma to her. And in the actof unfolding to her that he was not her real father, but had onlystriven to cherish her as a father, had only longed to be loved as afather, the odd, way-worn, unworldly man became the object of a newsympathy in which Esther exulted. Perhaps this knowledge would have beenless powerful within her, but for the mental preparation that had comeduring the last two months from her acquaintance with Felix Holt, whichhad taught her to doubt the infallibility of her own standard, andraised a presentiment of moral depths that were hidden from her.
Esther had taken her place opposite to her father, and had not movedeven her clasped hands while he was speaking. But after the longoutpouring in which he seemed to lose the sense of everything but thememories he was giving utterance to, he paused a little while, and thensaid timidly--
"This is a late retrieval of a long error, Esther. I make not excusesfor myself, for we ought to strive that our affections be rooted in thetruth. Nevertheless you----"
Esther had risen, and had glided on to the wooden stool on a level withher father's chair, where he was accustomed to lay books. She wanted tospeak, but the flood-gates could not be opened for words alone. Shethrew her arms round the old man's neck and sobbed out with a passionatecry, "Father, father! forgive me if I have not loved you enough. Iwill--I will!"
The old man's little delicate frame was shaken by a surprise and joythat was almost painful in their intensity. He had been going to askforgiveness of her who asked it for herself. In that moment of supremecomplex emotion one ray of the minister's joy was the thought, "Surelythe work of grace is begun in her--surely here is a heart that the Lordhath touched."
They sat so, enclasped in silence, while Esther relieved her full heart.When she raised her head, she sat quite still for a minute or twolooking fixedly before her, and keeping one little hand in theminister's. Presently she looked at him and said--
"Then you lived like a workingman, father; you were very, very poor. Yetmy mother had been used to luxury, She was well born--she was a lady?"
"It is true, my dear; it was a poor life that I could give her."
Mr. Lyon answered in utter dimness as to the course Esther's mind wastaking. He had anticipated before his disclosure, from his long-standingdiscernment of tendencies in her which were often the cause of silentgrief to him, that the discovery likely to have the keenest interest forher would be that her parents had a higher rank than that of the poorDissenting preacher; but she had shown that other and bettersensibilities were predominant. He rebuked himself now for a hasty andshallow judgment concerning the child's inner life, and waited for newclearness.
"But that must be the best life, father," said Esther, suddenly rising,with a flush across her paleness, and standing with her head thrown alittle backward, as if some illumination had given her a new decision."That must be the best life."
"What life, my dear child?"
"Why, that where one bears and does everything because of some great andstrong feeling--so that this and that in one's circumstances don'tsignify."
"Yea, verily; but the feeling that should be thus supreme is devotednessto the Divine Will."
Esther did not speak; her father's words did not fit on to theimpressions wrought in her by what he had told her. She sat down again,and said, more quietly--
"Mamma did not speak much of my--first father?"
"Not much, dear. She said he was beautiful to the eye, and good andgenerous; and that his family was of those who had been long privilegedamong their fellows. But now I will deliver to you the letters, which,together with the ring and locket, are the only visible memorials sheretained of him."
Mr. Lyon reached and delivered to Esther the box containing the relics."Take them, and examine them in privacy, my dear. And that I may no moreerr by concealment, I will tell you some late occurrences that bear onthese memorials, though to my present apprehension doubtfully andconfusedly."
He then narrated to Esther all that had passed between himself andChristian. The possibility--to which Mr. Lyon's alarms had pointed--thather real father might still be living, was a new shock. She could notspeak about it to her present father, but it was registered in silenceas a painful addition to the uncertainties which she suddenly sawhanging over her life.
"I have little confidence in this man's allegations," Mr. Lyon ended. "Iconfess his presence and speech are to me as the jarring of metal. Hebears the stamp of one who has never conceived aught of more sanctitythan the lust of the eye and the pride of life. He hints at somepossible inheritance for you, and denounces mysteriously the devices ofMr. Jermyn. All this may or may not have a true foundation. But it isnot my part to move in this matter save on a clear showing."
"Certainly not, father," said Esther, eagerly. A little while ago, theseproblematic prospects might have set her dreaming pleasantly; but now,for some reasons that she could not have put distinctly into words, theyaffected her with dread.