The Mill on the Floss George Eliot (ereader android .txt) 📖

fieriness and lawing, what could I do? And him struck as if it was with death when he got the letter as said you’d the hold upo’ the land. But I can’t believe but what you’ll behave as a gentleman.”

“What does all this mean, Mrs. Tulliver?” said Mr. Wakem rather sharply. “What do you want to ask me?”

“Why, sir, if you’ll be so good,” said Mrs. Tulliver, starting a little, and speaking more hurriedly⁠—“if you’ll be so good not to buy the mill an’ the land⁠—the land wouldn’t so much matter, only my husband ull’ be like mad at your having it.”

Something like a new thought flashed across Mr. Wakem’s face as he said, “Who told you I meant to buy it?”

“Why, sir, it’s none o’ my inventing, and I should never ha’ thought of it; for my husband, as ought to know about the law, he allays used to say as lawyers had never no call to buy anything⁠—either lands or houses⁠—for they allays got ’em into their hands other ways. An’ I should think that ’ud be the way with you, sir; and I niver said as you’d be the man to do contrairy to that.”

“Ah, well, who was it that did say so?” said Wakem, opening his desk, and moving things about, with the accompaniment of an almost inaudible whistle.

“Why, sir, it was Mr. Glegg and Mr. Deane, as have all the management; and Mr. Deane thinks as Guest & Co. ’ud buy the mill and let Mr. Tulliver work it for ’em, if you didn’t bid for it and raise the price. And it ’ud be such a thing for my husband to stay where he is, if he could get his living: for it was his father’s before him, the mill was, and his grandfather built it, though I wasn’t fond o’ the noise of it, when first I was married, for there was no mills in our family⁠—not the Dodson’s⁠—and if I’d known as the mills had so much to do with the law, it wouldn’t have been me as ’ud have been the first Dodson to marry one; but I went into it blindfold, that I did, erigation and everything.”

“What! Guest & Co. would keep the mill in their own hands, I suppose, and pay your husband wages?”

“Oh dear, sir, it’s hard to think of,” said poor Mrs. Tulliver, a little tear making its way, “as my husband should take wage. But it ’ud look more like what used to be, to stay at the mill than to go anywhere else; and if you’ll only think⁠—if you was to bid for the mill and buy it, my husband might be struck worse than he was before, and niver get better again as he’s getting now.”

“Well, but if I bought the mill, and allowed your husband to act as my manager in the same way, how then?” said Mr. Wakem.

“Oh, sir, I doubt he could niver be got to do it, not if the very mill stood still to beg and pray of him. For your name’s like poison to him, it’s so as never was; and he looks upon it as you’ve been the ruin of him all along, ever since you set the law on him about the road through the meadow⁠—that’s eight year ago, and he’s been going on ever since⁠—as I’ve allays told him he was wrong⁠—”

“He’s a pigheaded, foul-mouthed fool!” burst out Mr. Wakem, forgetting himself.

“Oh dear, sir!” said Mrs. Tulliver, frightened at a result so different from the one she had fixed her mind on; “I wouldn’t wish to contradict you, but it’s like enough he’s changed his mind with this illness⁠—he’s forgot a many things he used to talk about. And you wouldn’t like to have a corpse on your mind, if he was to die; and they do say as it’s allays unlucky when Dorlcote Mill changes hands, and the water might all run away, and then⁠—not as I’m wishing you any ill-luck, sir, for I forgot to tell you as I remember your wedding as if it was yesterday; Mrs. Wakem was a Miss Clint, I know that; and my boy, as there isn’t a nicer, handsomer, straighter boy nowhere, went to school with your son⁠—”

Mr. Wakem rose, opened the door, and called to one of his clerks.

“You must excuse me for interrupting you, Mrs. Tulliver; I have business that must be attended to; and I think there is nothing more necessary to be said.”

“But if you would bear it in mind, sir,” said Mrs. Tulliver, rising, “and not run against me and my children; and I’m not denying Mr. Tulliver’s been in the wrong, but he’s been punished enough, and there’s worse men, for it’s been giving to other folks has been his fault. He’s done nobody any harm but himself and his family⁠—the more’s the pity⁠—and I go and look at the bare shelves every day, and think where all my things used to stand.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll bear it in mind,” said Mr. Wakem, hastily, looking toward the open door.

“And if you’d please not to say as I’ve been to speak to you, for my son ’ud be very angry with me for demeaning myself, I know he would, and I’ve trouble enough without being scolded by my children.”

Poor Mrs. Tulliver’s voice trembled a little, and she could make no answer to the attorney’s “good morning,” but curtsied and walked out in silence.

“Which day is it that Dorlcote Mill is to be sold? Where’s the bill?” said Mr. Wakem to his clerk when they were alone.

“Next Friday is the day⁠—Friday at six o’clock.”

“Oh, just run to Winship’s the auctioneer, and see if he’s at home. I have some business for him; ask him to come up.”

Although, when Mr. Wakem entered his office that morning, he had had no intention of purchasing Dorlcote Mill, his mind was already made up. Mrs. Tulliver had suggested to him several determining motives, and his mental glance was very rapid; he was one of those men who can be prompt without being rash, because their motives run in fixed tracks, and they