Middlemarch George Eliot (essential reading txt) 📖

you to part with money⁠—robbing you of it, he said⁠—which you wanted for other purposes. I wish Fred were not such an idle dog; he has some very good points, and his father is a little hard upon him.”

“Where is he going?” said Mrs. Garth, rather coldly.

“He means to try again for his degree, and he is going up to study before term. I have advised him to do that. I don’t urge him to enter the Church⁠—on the contrary. But if he will go and work so as to pass, that will be some guarantee that he has energy and a will; and he is quite at sea; he doesn’t know what else to do. So far he will please his father, and I have promised in the meantime to try and reconcile Vincy to his son’s adopting some other line of life. Fred says frankly he is not fit for a clergyman, and I would do anything I could to hinder a man from the fatal step of choosing the wrong profession. He quoted to me what you said, Miss Garth⁠—do you remember it?” (Mr. Farebrother used to say “Mary” instead of “Miss Garth,” but it was part of his delicacy to treat her with the more deference because, according to Mrs. Vincy’s phrase, she worked for her bread.)

Mary felt uncomfortable, but, determined to take the matter lightly, answered at once, “I have said so many impertinent things to Fred⁠—we are such old playfellows.”

“You said, according to him, that he would be one of those ridiculous clergymen who help to make the whole clergy ridiculous. Really, that was so cutting that I felt a little cut myself.”

Caleb laughed. “She gets her tongue from you, Susan,” he said, with some enjoyment.

“Not its flippancy, father,” said Mary, quickly, fearing that her mother would be displeased. “It is rather too bad of Fred to repeat my flippant speeches to Mr. Farebrother.”

“It was certainly a hasty speech, my dear,” said Mrs. Garth, with whom speaking evil of dignities was a high misdemeanor. “We should not value our Vicar the less because there was a ridiculous curate in the next parish.”

“There’s something in what she says, though,” said Caleb, not disposed to have Mary’s sharpness undervalued. “A bad workman of any sort makes his fellows mistrusted. Things hang together,” he added, looking on the floor and moving his feet uneasily with a sense that words were scantier than thoughts.

“Clearly,” said the Vicar, amused. “By being contemptible we set men’s minds to the tune of contempt. I certainly agree with Miss Garth’s view of the matter, whether I am condemned by it or not. But as to Fred Vincy, it is only fair he should be excused a little: old Featherstone’s delusive behavior did help to spoil him. There was something quite diabolical in not leaving him a farthing after all. But Fred has the good taste not to dwell on that. And what he cares most about is having offended you, Mrs. Garth; he supposes you will never think well of him again.”

“I have been disappointed in Fred,” said Mrs. Garth, with decision. “But I shall be ready to think well of him again when he gives me good reason to do so.”

At this point Mary went out of the room, taking Letty with her.

“Oh, we must forgive young people when they’re sorry,” said Caleb, watching Mary close the door. “And as you say, Mr. Farebrother, there was the very devil in that old man. Now Mary’s gone out, I must tell you a thing⁠—it’s only known to Susan and me, and you’ll not tell it again. The old scoundrel wanted Mary to burn one of the wills the very night he died, when she was sitting up with him by herself, and he offered her a sum of money that he had in the box by him if she would do it. But Mary, you understand, could do no such thing⁠—would not be handling his iron chest, and so on. Now, you see, the will he wanted burnt was this last, so that if Mary had done what he wanted, Fred Vincy would have had ten thousand pounds. The old man did turn to him at the last. That touches poor Mary close; she couldn’t help it⁠—she was in the right to do what she did, but she feels, as she says, much as if she had knocked down somebody’s property and broken it against her will, when she was rightfully defending herself. I feel with her, somehow, and if I could make any amends to the poor lad, instead of bearing him a grudge for the harm he did us, I should be glad to do it. Now, what is your opinion, sir? Susan doesn’t agree with me; she says⁠—tell what you say, Susan.”

“Mary could not have acted otherwise, even if she had known what would be the effect on Fred,” said Mrs. Garth, pausing from her work, and looking at Mr. Farebrother.

“And she was quite ignorant of it. It seems to me, a loss which falls on another because we have done right is not to lie upon our conscience.”

The Vicar did not answer immediately, and Caleb said, “It’s the feeling. The child feels in that way, and I feel with her. You don’t mean your horse to tread on a dog when you’re backing out of the way; but it goes through you, when it’s done.”

“I am sure Mrs. Garth would agree with you there,” said Mr. Farebrother, who for some reason seemed more inclined to ruminate than to speak. “One could hardly say that the feeling you mention about Fred is wrong⁠—or rather, mistaken⁠—though no man ought to make a claim on such feeling.”

“Well, well,” said Caleb, “it’s a secret. You will not tell Fred.”

“Certainly not. But I shall carry the other good news⁠—that you can afford the loss he caused you.”

Mr. Farebrother left the house soon after, and seeing Mary in the orchard with Letty, went to say goodbye to her. They made a pretty picture in the western light