Middlemarch - Page 125/561

Everything looked blooming and joyous except Miss Morgan, who was

brown, dull, and resigned, and altogether, as Mrs. Vincy often said,

just the sort of person for a governess. Lydgate did not mean to pay

many such visits himself. They were a wretched waste of the evenings;

and now, when he had talked a little more to Rosamond, he meant to

excuse himself and go.

"You will not like us at Middlemarch, I feel sure," she said, when the

whist-players were settled. "We are very stupid, and you have been

used to something quite different."

"I suppose all country towns are pretty much alike," said Lydgate.

"But I have noticed that one always believes one's own town to be more

stupid than any other. I have made up my mind to take Middlemarch as

it comes, and shall be much obliged if the town will take me in the

same way. I have certainly found some charms in it which are much

greater than I had expected."

"You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick; every one is pleased

with those," said Rosamond, with simplicity.

"No, I mean something much nearer to me."

Rosamond rose and reached her netting, and then said, "Do you care

about dancing at all? I am not quite sure whether clever men ever

dance."

"I would dance with you if you would allow me."

"Oh!" said Rosamond, with a slight deprecatory laugh. "I was only

going to say that we sometimes have dancing, and I wanted to know

whether you would feel insulted if you were asked to come."

"Not on the condition I mentioned."

After this chat Lydgate thought that he was going, but on moving

towards the whist-tables, he got interested in watching Mr.

Farebrother's play, which was masterly, and also his face, which was a

striking mixture of the shrewd and the mild. At ten o'clock supper was

brought in (such were the customs of Middlemarch) and there was

punch-drinking; but Mr. Farebrother had only a glass of water. He was

winning, but there seemed to be no reason why the renewal of rubbers

should end, and Lydgate at last took his leave.

But as it was not eleven o'clock, he chose to walk in the brisk air

towards the tower of St. Botolph's, Mr. Farebrother's church, which

stood out dark, square, and massive against the starlight. It was the

oldest church in Middlemarch; the living, however, was but a vicarage

worth barely four hundred a-year. Lydgate had heard that, and he

wondered now whether Mr. Farebrother cared about the money he won at

cards; thinking, "He seems a very pleasant fellow, but Bulstrode may

have his good reasons." Many things would be easier to Lydgate if it

should turn out that Mr. Bulstrode was generally justifiable. "What is

his religious doctrine to me, if he carries some good notions along

with it? One must use such brains as are to be found."