The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot (best self help books to read TXT) đ
- Author: George Eliot
- Performer: 0141439629
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Tomâs arm slowly relaxed, and he said, âWell, then, itâs a new fish-lineâtwo new uns,âone for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldnât go halves in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the money; and Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wouldnât. And hereâs hooks; see hereâI say, wonât we go and fish tomorrow down by the Round Pool? And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie and put the worms on, and everything; wonât it be fun?â
Maggieâs answer was to throw her arms round Tomâs neck and hug him, and hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound some of the line, saying, after a pause,â
âWasnât I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to yourself? You know, I neednât have bought it, if I hadnât liked.â
âYes, very, very goodâI do love you, Tom.â
Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and was looking at the hooks one by one, before he spoke again.
âAnd the fellows fought me, because I wouldnât give in about the toffee.â
âOh, dear! I wish they wouldnât fight at your school, Tom. Didnât it hurt you?â
âHurt me? no,â said Tom, putting up the hooks again, taking out a large pocket-knife, and slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked at meditatively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he added,â
âI gave Spouncer a black eye, I know; thatâs what he got by wanting to leather me; I wasnât going to go halves because anybody leathered me.â
âOh, how brave you are, Tom! I think youâre like Samson. If there came a lion roaring at me, I think youâd fight him, wouldnât you, Tom?â
âHow can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? Thereâs no lions, only in the shows.â
âNo; but if we were in the lion countriesâI mean in Africa, where itâs very hot; the lions eat people there. I can show it you in the book where I read it.â
âWell, I should get a gun and shoot him.â
âBut if you hadnât got a gun,âwe might have gone out, you know, not thinking, just as we go fishing; and then a great lion might run toward us roaring, and we couldnât get away from him. What should you do, Tom?â
Tom paused, and at last turned away contemptuously, saying, âBut the lion isnât coming. Whatâs the use of talking?â
âBut I like to fancy how it would be,â said Maggie, following him. âJust think what you would do, Tom.â
âOh, donât bother, Maggie! youâre such a silly. I shall go and see my rabbits.â
Maggieâs heart began to flutter with fear. She dared not tell the sad truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went out, thinking how she could tell him the news so as to soften at once his sorrow and his anger; for Maggie dreaded Tomâs anger of all things; it was quite a different anger from her own.
âTom,â she said, timidly, when they were out of doors, âhow much money did you give for your rabbits?â
âTwo half-crowns and a sixpence,â said Tom, promptly.
âI think Iâve got a great deal more than that in my steel purse upstairs. Iâll ask mother to give it you.â
âWhat for?â said Tom. âI donât want your money, you silly thing. Iâve got a great deal more money than you, because Iâm a boy. I always have half-sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes because I shall be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because youâre only a girl.â
âWell, but, Tomâif mother would let me give you two half-crowns and a sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you know, and buy some more rabbits with it?â
âMore rabbits? I donât want any more.â
âOh, but, Tom, theyâre all dead.â
Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round toward Maggie. âYou forgot to feed âem, then, and Harry forgot?â he said, his color heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding. âIâll pitch into Harry. Iâll have him turned away. And I donât love you, Maggie. You shaânât go fishing with me tomorrow. I told you to go and see the rabbits every day.â He walked on again.
âYes, but I forgotâand I couldnât help it, indeed, Tom. Iâm so very sorry,â said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.
âYouâre a naughty girl,â said Tom, severely, âand Iâm sorry I bought you the fish-line. I donât love you.â
âOh, Tom, itâs very cruel,â sobbed Maggie. âIâd forgive you, if you forgot anythingâI wouldnât mind what you didâIâd forgive you and love you.â
âYes, youâre silly; but I never do forget things, I donât.â
âOh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break,â said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tomâs arm, and laying her wet cheek on his shoulder.
Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, âNow, Maggie, you just listen. Arenât I a good brother to you?â
âYe-ye-es,â sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly.
âDidnât I think about your fish-line all this quarter, and mean to buy it, and saved my money oâ purpose, and wouldnât go halves in the toffee, and Spouncer fought me because I wouldnât?â
âYe-ye-esâand Iâlo-lo-love you so, Tom.â
âBut youâre a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my lozenge-box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish-line down when Iâd set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through my kite, all for nothing.â
âBut I didnât mean,â said Maggie; âI couldnât help it.â
âYes, you could,â said Tom, âif youâd minded what you were doing. And youâre a naughty girl, and you shaânât go fishing with me tomorrow.â
With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill, meaning to greet Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.
Maggie stood motionless, except from her sobs, for a minute or two; then she turned round and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where she sat on the floor and laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf, with a crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she had thought how happy she should be; and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything if Tom didnât love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadnât she wanted to give him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She knew she was naughty to her mother, but she had never been naughty to Tomâhad never meant to be naughty to him.
âOh, he is cruel!â Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the attic. She never thought of beating or grinding her Fetish; she was too miserable to be angry.
These bitter sorrows of childhood! when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.
Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be teatime, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well, then, she would stay up there and starve herself,âhide herself behind the tub, and stay there all night,âand then they would all be frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought in the pride of her heart, as she crept behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that they didnât mind her being there. If she went down again to Tom nowâwould he forgive her? Perhaps her father would be there, and he would take her part. But then she wanted Tom to forgive her because he loved her, not because his father told him. No, she would never go down if Tom didnât come to fetch her. This resolution lasted in great intensity for five dark minutes behind the tub; but then the need of being lovedâthe strongest need in poor Maggieâs natureâbegan to wrestle with her pride, and soon threw it. She crept from behind her tub into the twilight of the long attic, but just then she heard a quick footstep on the stairs.
Tom had been too much interested in his talk with Luke, in going the round of the premises, walking in and out where he pleased, and whittling sticks without any particular reason,âexcept that he didnât whittle sticks at school,âto think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her. He meant to punish her, and that business having been performed, he occupied himself with other matters, like a practical person. But when he had been called in to tea, his father said, âWhy, whereâs the little wench?â and Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, âWhereâs your little sister?ââboth of them having supposed that Maggie and Tom had been together all the afternoon.
âI donât know,â said Tom. He didnât want to âtellâ of Maggie, though he was angry with her; for Tom Tulliver was a lad of honor.
âWhat! hasnât she been playing with you all this while?â said the father. âSheâd been thinking oâ nothing but your coming home.â
âI havenât seen her this two hours,â says Tom, commencing on the plumcake.
âGoodness heart; sheâs got drownded!â exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising from her seat and running to the window.
âHow could you let her do so?â she added, as became a fearful woman, accusing she didnât know whom of she didnât know what.
âNay, nay, sheâs none drownded,â said Mr. Tulliver. âYouâve been naughty to her, I doubt, Tom?â
âIâm sure I havenât, father,â said Tom, indignantly. âI think sheâs in the house.â
âPerhaps up in that attic,â said Mrs. Tulliver, âasinging and talking to herself, and forgetting all about meal-times.â
âYou go and fetch her down, Tom,â said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply,âhis perspicacity or his fatherly fondness for Maggie making him suspect that the lad had been hard upon âthe little un,â else she would never have left his side. âAnd be good to her, do you hear? Else Iâll let you know better.â
Tom never disobeyed his father, for Mr. Tulliver was a peremptory man, and, as he said, would never let anybody get hold of his whip-hand; but he went out rather sullenly, carrying his piece of plumcake, and not intending to reprieve Maggieâs punishment, which was no more than she deserved. Tom was only thirteen, and had no decided views in grammar and arithmetic, regarding them for the most part as open questions, but he was particularly clear and positive on one point,ânamely, that he would punish everybody who deserved it. Why, he wouldnât have minded being punished himself if he deserved it; but, then, he never did deserve it.
It was Tomâs step, then, that Maggie heard on the stairs, when her need of love had triumphed over her pride, and she was going down with her swollen eyes and dishevelled hair to beg for pity. At least her father would stroke her head and say, âNever mind, my wench.â It is a wonderful subduer, this need of love,âthis hunger of the heart,âas peremptory as that other hunger by which Nature forces us to submit to the yoke, and change the face of the world.
But she knew Tomâs step, and her heart began to beat violently with the sudden shock of hope. He only stood still at the top of the stairs and said, âMaggie, youâre to come down.â But she rushed to him and clung round his neck, sobbing, âOh, Tom, please forgive meâI canât bear itâI will always be goodâalways remember thingsâdo love meâplease, dear
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