by George Eliot
CHAPTER IX.
"A woman naturally born to fears."--_King John._
"Methinks, Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming toward me; and my inward soul With nothing trembles."--_King Richard II._
Matthew Jermyn approached Mrs. Transome taking off his hat and smiling.She did not smile, but said--
"You knew Harold was not at home?"
"Yes; I came to see you, to know if you had any wishes that I couldfurther, since I have not had an opportunity of consulting you since hecame home."
"Let us walk toward the Rookery, then."
They turned together, Mr. Jermyn still keeping his hat off and holdingit behind him; the air was so soft and agreeable that Mrs. Transome hadnothing but a large veil over her head.
They walked for a little while in silence till they were out of sight,under tall trees, and treading noiselessly on falling leaves. WhatJermyn was really most anxious about, was to learn from Mrs. Transomewhether anything had transpired that was significant of Harold'sdisposition toward him, which he suspected to be very far from friendly.Jermyn was not naturally flinty-hearted: at five-and-twenty he hadwritten verses, and had got himself wet through in order not todisappoint a dark-eyed woman whom he was proud to believe in love withhim; but a family man with grown up sons and daughters, a man with aprofessional position and complicated affairs that make it hard toascertain the exact relation between property and liabilities,necessarily thinks of himself and what may be impending.
"Harold is remarkably acute and clever," he began at last, since Mrs.Transome did not speak. "If he gets into Parliament, I have no doubt hewill distinguish himself. He has a quick eye for business of all kinds."
"That is no comfort to me," said Mrs. Transome. To-day she was moreconscious than usual of that bitterness which was always in her mind inJermyn's presence, but which was carefully suppressed:--suppressedbecause she could not endure that the degradation she inwardly feltshould ever become visible or audible in acts or words of herown--should ever be reflected in any word or look of his. For yearsthere had been a deep silence about the past between them; on her sidebecause she remembered; on his, because he more and more forgot.
"I trust he is not unkind to you in any way. I know his opinions painyou; but I trust you find him in everything else disposed to be a goodson."
"Oh, to be sure--good as men are disposed to be to women, giving themcushions and carriages, and recommending them to enjoy themselves, andthen expecting them to be contented under contempt and neglect. I haveno power over him--remember that--none."
Jermyn turned to look in Mrs. Transome's face: it was long since he hadheard her speak to him as if she were losing her self-command.
"Has he shown any unpleasant feeling about your management of affairs?"
"_My_ management!" Mrs. Transome said, with concentrated rage, flashinga fierce look at Jermyn. She checked herself: she felt as if she werelighting a torch to flare on her own past folly and misery. It was aresolve which had become a habit, that she would never quarrel with thisman--never tell him what she saw him to be. She had kept her woman'spride and sensibility intact: through all her life there had vibratedthe maiden need to have her hand kissed and be the object of chivalry.And so she sank into silence again, trembling.
Jermyn felt annoyed--nothing more. There was nothing in his mindcorresponding to the intricate meshes of sensitiveness in Mrs.Transome's. He was anything but stupid; yet he always blundered when hewanted to be delicate or magnanimous; he constantly sought to sootheothers by praising himself. Moral vulgarity cleaved to him like anhereditary odor. He blundered now.
"My dear Mrs. Transome," he said, in a tone of bland kindness, "you areagitated--you appear angry with me. Yet I think, if you consider, youwill see that you have nothing to complain of in me, unless you willcomplain of the inevitable course of man's life. I have always met yourwishes both in happy circumstances and in unhappy ones. I should beready to do so now, if it were possible."
Every sentence was as pleasant to her as if it had been cut in her baredarm. Some men's kindness and love-making are more exasperating, morehumiliating than others' derision but the pitiable woman who has oncemade herself secretly dependent on a man who is beneath her in feeling,must bear that humiliation for fear of worse. Coarse kindness is atleast better than coarse anger; and in all private quarrels the dullernature is triumphant by reason of its dullness. Mrs. Transome knew inher inmost soul that those relations which had sealed her lips onJermyn's conduct in business matters, had been with him a ground forpresuming that he should have impunity in any lax dealing into whichcircumstances had led him. She knew that she herself had endured all themore privation because of his dishonest selfishness. And now, Harold'slong-deferred heirship, and his return with startlingly unexpectedpenetration, activity, and assertion of mastery, had placed them both inthe full presence of a difficulty which had been prepared by the yearsof vague uncertainty as to issues. In this position, with a great dreadhanging over her, which Jermyn knew, and ought to have felt that he hadcaused her, she was inclined to lash him with indignation, to scorch himwith the words that were just the fit names for his doings--inclined allthe more when he spoke with an insolent blandness, ignoring all that wastruly in her heart. But no sooner did the words "You have brought it onme" rise within her than she heard within also the retort, "You broughtit on yourself." Not for all the world beside could she bear to hearthat retort uttered from without. What did she do? With strange sequenceto all that rapid tumult, after a few moments' silence she said--
"Let me take your arm."
He gave it immediately, putting on his hat and wondering. For more thantwenty years Mrs. Transome had never chosen to take his arm.
"I have but one thing to ask. Make me a promise."
"What is it?"
"That you will never quarrel with Harold."
"You must know that it is my wish not to quarrel with him."
"But make a vow--fix it in your mind as a thing not to be done. Bearanything from him rather than quarrel with him."
"A man can't make a vow not to quarrel," said Jermyn, who was already alittle irritated by the implication that Harold might be disposed to usehim roughly. "A man's temper may get the better of him at any moment. Iam not prepared to bear _anything_."
"Good God!" said Mrs. Transome, taking her hand from his arm, "is itpossible you don't feel how horrible it would be?"
As she took away her hand, Jermyn let his arm fall, put both his handsin his pockets, and shrugging his shoulders said, "I shall use him as heuses me."
Jermyn had turned round his savage side, and the blandness was out ofsight. It was this that had always frightened Mrs. Transome: there was apossibility of fierce insolence in this man who was to pass with thosenearest to her as her indebted servant, but whose brand she secretlybore. She was as powerless with him as she was with her own son.
This woman, who loved rule, dared not speak another word of attemptedpersuasion. They were both silent, taking the nearest way into thesunshine again. There was a half-formed wish in both their minds--evenin the mother's--that Harold Transome had never been born.
"We are working hard for the election," said Jermyn, recoveringhimself, as they turned into the sunshine again. "I think we shall gethim returned, and in that case he will be in high good-humor. Everythingwill be more propitious than you are apt to think. You must persuadeyourself," he added, smiling at her, "that it is better for a man of hisposition to be in Parliament on the wrong side than not to be in atall."
"Never," said Mrs. Transome. "I am too old to learn to call bitter sweetand sweet bitter. But what I may think or feel is of no consequence now.I am as unnecessary as a chimney ornament."
And in this way they parted on the gravel, in that pretty scene wherethey had met. Mrs. Transome shivered as she stood alone: all around her,where there had once been brightness and warmth, there were white ashes,and the sunshine looked dreary as i
t fell on them.
Mr. Jermyn's heaviest reflections in riding homeward turned on thepossibility of incidents between himself and Harold Transome which wouldhave disagreeable results, requiring him to raise money, and perhapscausing scandal, which in its way might also help to create a monetarydeficit. A man of sixty, with a wife whose Duffield connections were ofthe highest respectability, with a family of tall daughters, anexpensive establishment, and a large professional business, owed a greatdeal more to himself as the mainstay of all those solidities, than tofeelings and ideas which were quite unsubstantial. There were manyunfortunate coincidences which placed Mr. Jermyn in an uncomfortableposition just now; he had not been much to blame, he considered; if ithad not been for a sudden turn of affairs no one would have complained.He defied any man to say that he had intended to wrong people; he wasable to refund, to make reprisals, if they could be fairly demanded.Only he would certainly have preferred that they should not be demanded.
A German poet was entrusted with a particularly fine sausage, which hewas to convey to the donor's friend at Paris. In the course of a longjourney he smelled the sausage; he got hungry, and desired to taste it;he pared a morsel off, then another, and another, in successive momentsof temptation, till at last the sausage was, humanly speaking, at anend. The offence had not been premeditated. The poet had never lovedmeanness, but he loved sausage; and the result was undeniably awkward.
So it was with Matthew Jermyn. He was far from liking that uglyabstraction rascality, but he had liked other things which had suggestednibbling. He had to do many things in law and in daily life which, inthe abstract, he would have condemned; and indeed he had never beentempted by them in the abstract. Here, in fact, was the inconvenience:he had sinned for the sake of particular concrete things, and particularconcrete consequences were likely to follow.
But he was a man of resolution, who, having made out what was the bestcourse to take under a difficulty, went straight to his work. Theelection must be won: that would put Harold in good-humor, give himsomething to do, and leave himself more time to prepare for any crisis.
He was in anything but low spirits that evening. It was his eldestdaughter's birthday, and the young people had a dance. Papa wasdelightful--stood up for a quadrille and a country-dance, told storiesat supper, and made humorous quotations from his early readings: ifthese were Latin, he apologized, and translated to the ladies; so that adeaf lady-visitor from Duffield kept her trumpet up continually, lestshe should lose any of Mr. Jermyn's conversation, and wished that herniece Maria had been present, who was young and had a good memory.
Still the party was smaller than usual, for some families in Trebyrefused to visit Jermyn, now that he was concerned for a Radicalcandidate.