Middlemarch - Page 92/561

"Very good," said Fred, who had his own reasons for not being in the

best spirits, and wanted to get away.

"Miss Vincy is a musician?" said Lydgate, following her with his eyes.

(Every nerve and muscle in Rosamond was adjusted to the consciousness

that she was being looked at. She was by nature an actress of parts

that entered into her physique: she even acted her own character, and

so well, that she did not know it to be precisely her own.)

"The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound," said Mr. Featherstone, "let

the next be who she will. Eh, Fred? Speak up for your sister."

"I'm afraid I'm out of court, sir. My evidence would be good for

nothing."

"Middlemarch has not a very high standard, uncle," said Rosamond, with

a pretty lightness, going towards her whip, which lay at a distance.

Lydgate was quick in anticipating her. He reached the whip before she

did, and turned to present it to her. She bowed and looked at him: he

of course was looking at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar

meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden

divine clearance of haze. I think Lydgate turned a little paler than

usual, but Rosamond blushed deeply and felt a certain astonishment.

After that, she was really anxious to go, and did not know what sort of

stupidity her uncle was talking of when she went to shake hands with

him.

Yet this result, which she took to be a mutual impression, called

falling in love, was just what Rosamond had contemplated beforehand.

Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven a

little future, of which something like this scene was the necessary

beginning. Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly

escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had a

circumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native

merit has urged itself in vain. And a stranger was absolutely

necessary to Rosamond's social romance, which had always turned on a

lover and bridegroom who was not a Middlemarcher, and who had no

connections at all like her own: of late, indeed, the construction

seemed to demand that he should somehow be related to a baronet. Now

that she and the stranger had met, reality proved much more moving than

anticipation, and Rosamond could not doubt that this was the great

epoch of her life. She judged of her own symptoms as those of

awakening love, and she held it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate

should have fallen in love at first sight of her. These things

happened so often at balls, and why not by the morning light, when the

complexion showed all the better for it? Rosamond, though no older

than Mary, was rather used to being fallen in love with; but she, for

her part, had remained indifferent and fastidiously critical towards

both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. And here was Mr. Lydgate suddenly

corresponding to her ideal, being altogether foreign to Middlemarch,

carrying a certain air of distinction congruous with good family, and

possessing connections which offered vistas of that middle-class

heaven, rank; a man of talent, also, whom it would be especially

delightful to enslave: in fact, a man who had touched her nature quite

newly, and brought a vivid interest into her life which was better than

any fancied "might-be" such as she was in the habit of opposing to the

actual.