Middlemarch - Page 266/561

This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincy--to be rash in

jovial assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been

rash, to employ others in making the offensive retractation. However,

Mrs. Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time the

next morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said. Rosamond,

examining some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave a

certain turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience could

teach you that it meant perfect obstinacy.

"What do you say, my dear?" said her mother, with affectionate

deference.

"Papa does not mean anything of the kind," said Rosamond, quite calmly.

"He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved. And I

shall marry Mr. Lydgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his

consent. And I hope we shall have Mrs. Bretton's house."

"Well, my dear, I shall leave you to manage your papa. You always do

manage everybody. But if we ever do go and get damask, Sadler's is the

place--far better than Hopkins's. Mrs. Bretton's is very large, though:

I should love you to have such a house; but it will take a great deal

of furniture--carpeting and everything, besides plate and glass. And

you hear, your papa says he will give no money. Do you think Mr.

Lydgate expects it?"

"You cannot imagine that I should ask him, mamma. Of course he

understands his own affairs."

"But he may have been looking for money, my dear, and we all thought of

your having a pretty legacy as well as Fred;--and now everything is so

dreadful--there's no pleasure in thinking of anything, with that poor

boy disappointed as he is."

"That has nothing to do with my marriage, mamma. Fred must leave off

being idle. I am going up-stairs to take this work to Miss Morgan: she

does the open hemming very well. Mary Garth might do some work for me

now, I should think. Her sewing is exquisite; it is the nicest thing I

know about Mary. I should so like to have all my cambric frilling

double-hemmed. And it takes a long time."

Mrs. Vincy's belief that Rosamond could manage her papa was well

founded. Apart from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Vincy,

blustering as he was, had as little of his own way as if he had been a

prime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much for him,

as it is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the circumstance

called Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that mild

persistence which, as we know, enables a white soft living substance to

make its way in spite of opposing rock. Papa was not a rock: he had no

other fixity than that fixity of alternating impulses sometimes called

habit, and this was altogether unfavorable to his taking the only

decisive line of conduct in relation to his daughter's

engagement--namely, to inquire thoroughly into Lydgate's circumstances,

declare his own inability to furnish money, and forbid alike either a

speedy marriage or an engagement which must be too lengthy. That seems

very simple and easy in the statement; but a disagreeable resolve

formed in the chill hours of the morning had as many conditions against

it as the early frost, and rarely persisted under the warming

influences of the day. The indirect though emphatic expression of

opinion to which Mr. Vincy was prone suffered much restraint in this

case: Lydgate was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously

unsafe, and throwing his hat on the floor was out of the question. Mr.

Vincy was a little in awe of him, a little vain that he wanted to marry

Rosamond, a little indisposed to raise a question of money in which his

own position was not advantageous, a little afraid of being worsted in

dialogue with a man better educated and more highly bred than himself,

and a little afraid of doing what his daughter would not like. The

part Mr. Vincy preferred playing was that of the generous host whom

nobody criticises. In the earlier half of the day there was business

to hinder any formal communication of an adverse resolve; in the later

there was dinner, wine, whist, and general satisfaction. And in the

mean while the hours were each leaving their little deposit and

gradually forming the final reason for inaction, namely, that action

was too late. The accepted lover spent most of his evenings in Lowick

Gate, and a love-making not at all dependent on money-advances from

fathers-in-law, or prospective income from a profession, went on

flourishingly under Mr. Vincy's own eyes. Young love-making--that

gossamer web! Even the points it clings to--the things whence its

subtle interlacings are swung--are scarcely perceptible: momentary

touches of fingertips, meetings of rays from blue and dark orbs,

unfinished phrases, lightest changes of cheek and lip, faintest

tremors. The web itself is made of spontaneous beliefs and indefinable

joys, yearnings of one life towards another, visions of completeness,

indefinite trust. And Lydgate fell to spinning that web from his

inward self with wonderful rapidity, in spite of experience supposed to

be finished off with the drama of Laure--in spite too of medicine and

biology; for the inspection of macerated muscle or of eyes presented in

a dish (like Santa Lucia's), and other incidents of scientific inquiry,

are observed to be less incompatible with poetic love than a native

dulness or a lively addiction to the lowest prose. As for Rosamond,

she was in the water-lily's expanding wonderment at its own fuller

life, and she too was spinning industriously at the mutual web. All

this went on in the corner of the drawing-room where the piano stood,

and subtle as it was, the light made it a sort of rainbow visible to

many observers besides Mr. Farebrother. The certainty that Miss Vincy

and Mr. Lydgate were engaged became general in Middlemarch without the

aid of formal announcement.