It did not occur to him that Lydgate's marriage was not delightful: he
believed, as the rest did, that Rosamond was an amiable, docile
creature, though he had always thought her rather uninteresting--a
little too much the pattern-card of the finishing-school; and his
mother could not forgive Rosamond because she never seemed to see that
Henrietta Noble was in the room. "However, Lydgate fell in love with
her," said the Vicar to himself, "and she must be to his taste."
Mr. Farebrother was aware that Lydgate was a proud man, but having very
little corresponding fibre in himself, and perhaps too little care
about personal dignity, except the dignity of not being mean or
foolish, he could hardly allow enough for the way in which Lydgate
shrank, as from a burn, from the utterance of any word about his
private affairs. And soon after that conversation at Mr. Toller's, the
Vicar learned something which made him watch the more eagerly for an
opportunity of indirectly letting Lydgate know that if he wanted to
open himself about any difficulty there was a friendly ear ready.
The opportunity came at Mr. Vincy's, where, on New Year's Day, there
was a party, to which Mr. Farebrother was irresistibly invited, on the
plea that he must not forsake his old friends on the first new year of
his being a greater man, and Rector as well as Vicar. And this party
was thoroughly friendly: all the ladies of the Farebrother family were
present; the Vincy children all dined at the table, and Fred had
persuaded his mother that if she did not invite Mary Garth, the
Farebrothers would regard it as a slight to themselves, Mary being
their particular friend. Mary came, and Fred was in high spirits,
though his enjoyment was of a checkered kind--triumph that his mother
should see Mary's importance with the chief personages in the party
being much streaked with jealousy when Mr. Farebrother sat down by her.
Fred used to be much more easy about his own accomplishments in the
days when he had not begun to dread being "bowled out by Farebrother,"
and this terror was still before him. Mrs. Vincy, in her fullest
matronly bloom, looked at Mary's little figure, rough wavy hair, and
visage quite without lilies and roses, and wondered; trying
unsuccessfully to fancy herself caring about Mary's appearance in
wedding clothes, or feeling complacency in grandchildren who would
"feature" the Garths. However, the party was a merry one, and Mary was
particularly bright; being glad, for Fred's sake, that his friends were
getting kinder to her, and being also quite willing that they should
see how much she was valued by others whom they must admit to be judges.