CHAPTER XLV.
We may not make this world a paradise By walking it together with clasped hands And eyes that meeting feed a double strength. We must be only joined by pains divine, Of spirits blent in mutual memories.
It was a consequence of that interview with her father, that when Estherstepped early on a gray March morning into the carriage with Mrs.Transome, to go to the Loamford Assizes, she was full of an expectationthat held her lips in trembling silence, and gave her eyes thatsightless beauty which tells that the vision is all within.
Mrs. Transome did not disturb her with unnecessary speech. Of late,Esther's anxious observation had been drawn to a change in Mrs.Transome, shown in many small ways which only women notice. It was notonly that when they sat together the talk seemed more of an effort toher: that might have come from the gradual draining away of matter fordiscourse pertaining to most sorts of companionship, in which repetitionis not felt to be as desirable as novelty. But while Mrs. Transome wasdressed just as usual, took her seat as usual, trifled with her drugsand had her embroidery before her as usual, and still made her morninggreetings with that finished easy politeness and consideration of tonewhich to rougher people seems like affectation, Esther noticed a strangefitfulness in her movements. Sometimes the stitches of her embroiderywent on with silent unbroken swiftness for a quarter of an hour, as ifshe had to work out her deliverance from bondage by finishing ascroll-patterned border; then her hands dropped suddenly and her gazefell blankly on the table before her, and she would sit in that waymotionless as a seated statue, apparently unconscious of Esther'spresence, till some thought darting within her seemed to have the effectof an external shock and rouse her with a start, when she looked aroundhastily like a person ashamed of having slept. Esther, touched withwondering pity at signs of unhappiness that were new in her experience,took the most delicate care to appear inobservant, and only tried toincrease the gentle attention that might help to soothe or gratify thisuneasy woman. But, one morning, Mrs. Transome had said, breaking arather long silence--
"My dear, I shall make this house dull for you. You sit with me like anembodied patience. I am unendurable; I am getting into a melancholydotage. A fidgety old woman like me is as unpleasant to see as a rookwith its wing broken. Don't mind me, my dear. Run away from me withoutceremony. Every one else does, you see. I am part of the old furniturewith new drapery."
"Dear Mrs. Transome," said Esther, gliding to the low ottoman close bythe basket of embroidery, "do you dislike my sitting with you?"
"Only for your own sake, my fairy," said Mrs. Transome, smiling faintly,and putting her hand under Esther's chin. "Doesn't it make you shudderto look at me?"
"Why will you say such naughty things?" said Esther, affectionately. "Ifyou had had a daughter, she would have desired to be with you most whenyou most wanted cheering. And surely every young woman has something ofa daughter's feeling toward an older one who has been kind to her."
"I should like you to be really my daughter," said Mrs. Transome,rousing herself to look a little brighter. "That is something still foran old woman to hope for."
Esther blushed: she had not foreseen this application of words that camefrom pitying tenderness. To divert the train of thought as quickly aspossible, she at once asked what she had previously had in her mind toask. Before her blush had disappeared she said:
"Oh, you are so good; I shall ask you to indulge me very much. It is tolet us set out very early to Loamford on Wednesday, and put me down at aparticular house, that I may keep an appointment with my father. It is aprivate matter, that I wish no one to know about, if possible. And hewill bring me back to you wherever you appoint."
In that way Esther won her end without needing to betray it; and asHarold was already away at Loamford, she was the more secure.
The Independent minister's house at which she was set down, and whereshe was received by her father, was in a quiet street not far from thejail. Esther had thrown a dark cloak over the handsomer coverings whichDenner had assured her were absolutely required of ladies who satanywhere near the judge at a great trial; and as the bonnet of that daydid not throw the face into high relief, but rather into perspective, aveil drawn down gave her a sufficiently inconspicuous appearance.
"I have arranged all things, my dear," said Mr. Lyon, "and Felix expectsus. We will lose no time."
They walked away at once, Esther not asking a question. She had noconsciousness of the road along which they passed; she could neverremember anything but a dim sense of entering within high walls andgoing along passages, till they were ushered into a larger space thanshe had expected, and her father said:
"It is here that we are permitted to see Felix, my Esther. He willpresently appear."
Esther automatically took off her gloves and bonnet, as if she hadentered the house after a walk. She had lost the complete consciousnessof everything except that she was going to see Felix. She trembled. Itseemed to her as if he too would look altered after her new life--as ifeven the past would change for her and be no longer a steadfastremembrance, but something she had been mistaken about, as she had beenabout the new life. Perhaps she was growing out of that childhood towhich common things have rareness, and all objects look larger. Perhapsfrom henceforth the whole world was to be meaner for her. The dreadconcentrated in those few moments seemed worse than anything she hadknown before. It was what the dread of the pilgrim might be who has itwhispered to him that the holy places are a delusion, or that he willsee them with a soul unstirred and unbelieving. Every minute that passesmay be charged with some such crisis in the little inner world of man orwoman.
But soon the door opened slightly; someone looked in; then it openedwide, and Felix Holt entered.
"Miss Lyon--Esther!" and her hand was in his grasp.
He was just the same--no, something inexpressibly better, because of thedistance and separation, and the half-weary novelties, which made himlike the return of the morning.
"Take no heed of me, children," said Mr. Lyon. "I have some notes tomake, and my time is precious. We may remain here only a quarter of anhour." And the old man sat down at a window with his back to them,writing with his head bent close to the paper.
"You are very pale; you look ill, compared with your old self," saidEsther. She had taken her hand away, but they stood still near eachother, she looking up at him.
"The fact is, I'm not fond of prison," said Felix, smiling; "but Isuppose the best I can hope for is to have a good deal more of it."
"It is thought that in the worst case a pardon may be obtained," saidEsther, avoiding Harold Transome's name.
"I don't rely on that," said Felix, shaking his head. "My wisest courseis to make up my mind to the very ugliest penalty they can condemn meto. If I can face that, anything less will seem easy. But you know," hewent on, smiling at her brightly, "I never went in for fine company andcushions. I can't be very heavily disappointed in that way."
"Do you see things just as you used to do?" said Esther, turning pale asshe said it--"I mean--about poverty, and the people you will live among.Has all the misunderstanding and sadness left you just as obstinate?"She tried to smile, but could not succeed.
"What--about the sort of life I should lead if I were free again?" saidFelix.
"Yes. I can't help being discouraged for you by all these things thathave happened. See how you may fail!" Esther spoke timidly. She saw apeculiar smile, which she knew well, gathering in his eyes. "Ah, I daresay I am silly," she said, deprecatingly.
"No, you are dreadfully inspired," said Felix. "When the wicked Tempteris tired of snarling that word failure in a man's cell, he sends a voicelike a thrush to say it for him. See now what a messenger of darknessyou are!" He smiled, and took her two hands between his, pressedtogether as children hold them up in prayer. Both of them felt toosolemnly to be bashful. They looked straight into each other's eyes, asangels do when they tell some truth. And they stood in that way while hewent on speaking.
"But
I'm proof against that word failure. I've seen behind it. The onlyfailure a man ought to fear is failure in cleaving to the purpose hesees to be best. As to just the amount of result he may see from hisparticular work--that's a tremendous uncertainty: the universe has notbeen arranged for the gratification of his feelings. As long as a mansees and believes in some great good, he'll prefer working toward thatin the way he's best fit for, come what may. I put effects at theirminimum, but I'd rather have the maximum of effect, if it's of the sortI care for, than the maximum of effect I don't care for--a lot of finethings that are not to my taste--and if they were, the conditions ofholding them while the world is what it is, are such as would jar on melike grating metal."
"Yes," said Esther, in a lone tone, "I think I understand that now,better than I used to do." The words of Felix at last seemed strangelyto fit her own experience. But she said no more, though he seemed towait for it a moment or two, looking at her. But then he went on--
"I don't mean to be illustrious, you know, and make a new era, else itwould be kind of you to get a raven and teach it to croak 'failure' inmy ears. Where great things can't happen, I care for very small things,such as will never be known beyond a few garrets and workshops. Andthen, as to one thing I believe in, I don't think I can altogether fail.If there's anything our people want convincing of, it is, that there'ssome dignity and happiness for a man other than changing his station.That's one of the beliefs I choose to consecrate my life to. If anybodycould demonstrate to me that I was a flat for it, I shouldn't think itwould follow that I must borrow money to set up genteelly and order newclothes. That's not a rigorous consequence to my understanding."
They smiled at each other, with the old sense of amusement they had sooften had together.
"You are just the same," said Esther.
"And you?" said Felix. "My affairs have been settled long ago. Butyours--a great change has come in them--magic at work."
"Yes," said Esther, rather falteringly.
"Well," said Felix, looking at her gravely again, "it's a case offitness that seems to give a chance sanction to that musty law. Thefirst time I saw you your birth was an immense puzzle to me. However,the appropriate conditions are come at last."
These words seemed cruel to Esther. But Felix could not know all thereasons for their seeming so. She could not speak; she was turning coldand feeling her heart beat painfully.
"All your tastes are gratified now," he went on innocently. "But you'llremember the old pedagogue and his lectures?"
One thought in the mind of Felix was, that Esther was sure to marryHarold Transome. Men readily believe these things of the women who lovethem. But he could not allude to the marriage more directly. He wasafraid of this destiny for her, without having any very distinctknowledge by which to justify his fear to the mind of another. It didnot satisfy him that Esther should marry Harold Transome.
"My children," said Mr. Lyon at this moment, not looking round, but onlylooking close at his watch, "we have just two minutes more." Then hewent on writing.
Esther did not speak, but Felix could not help observing now that herhands had turned to a deathly coldness, and that she was trembling. Hebelieved, he knew, that whatever prospects she had, this feeling was forhis sake. An overpowering impulse from mingled love, gratitude, andanxiety, urged him to say--
"I had a horrible struggle, Esther. But you see I was right. There was afitting lot in reserve for you. But remember you have cost a greatprice--don't throw what is precious away. I shall want the news that youhave a happiness worthy of you."
Esther felt too miserable for tears to come. She looked helplessly atFelix for a moment, then took her hands from his, and, turning awaymutely, walked dreamily toward her father, and said, "Father, I amready--there is no more to say."
She turned back again, toward the chair where her bonnet lay, with aface quite corpse-like above her dark garments.
"Esther!"
She heard Felix say the word, with an entreating cry, and went towardhim with the swift movement of a frightened child toward its protector.He clasped her, and they kissed each other.
She never could recall anything else that happened, till she was in thecarriage again with Mrs. Transome.