Felix Holt, the Radical

by George Eliot

  CHAPTER XL.

  "She's beautiful; and therefore to be wooed: She is a woman; therefore to be won."

  --_Henry IV._

  If Denner had had a suspicion that Esther's presence at Transome Courtwas not agreeable to her mistress, it was impossible to entertain such asuspicion with regard to the other members of the family. Between herand little Harry there was an extraordinary fascination. This creature,with the soft, broad, brown cheeks, low forehead, great black eyes,tiny, well-defined nose, fierce, biting tricks toward every person andthing he disliked, and insistence on entirely occupying those he liked,was a human specimen such as Esther had never seen before, and sheseemed to be equally original in Harry's experience. At first sight herlight complexion and her blue gown, probably also her sunny smile andher hands stretched out toward him, seemed to make a show for him as ofa new sort of bird: he threw himself backward against his "Gappa," as hecalled old Mr. Transome, and stared at this new comer with the gravityof a wild animal. But she had no sooner sat down on the sofa in thelibrary than he climbed up to her, and began to treat her as anattractive object in natural history, snatched up her curls with hisbrown fist, and, discovering that there was a little ear under them,pinched it and blew into it, pulled at her coronet of plaits, and seemedto discover with satisfaction that it did not grow at the summit of herhead, but could be dragged down and altogether undone. Then finding thatshe laughed, tossed him back, kissed, and pretended to bite him--infact, was an animal that understood fun--he rushed off and made Dominicbring a small menagerie of white mice, squirrels, and birds, with Moro,the black spaniel, to make her acquaintance. Whomsoever Harry liked, itfollowed that Mr. Transome must like: "Gappa," along with Nimrod theretriever, was part of the menagerie, and perhaps endured more than allthe other live creatures in the way of being tumbled about. Seeing thatEsther bore having her hair pulled down quite merrily, and that she waswilling to be harnessed and beaten, the old man began to confide to her,in his feeble, smiling, and rather jerking fashion, Harry's remarkablefeats: how he had one day, when Gappy was asleep, unpinned a wholedrawerful of beetles, to see if they would fly away; then, disgustedwith their stupidity, was about to throw them all on the ground andstamp on them, when Dominic came in and rescued these valuablespecimens; also, how he had subtly watched Mrs. Transome at the cabinetwhere she kept her medicines, and, when she had left it for a littlewhile without locking it, had gone to the drawers and scattered half thecontents on the floor. But what old Mr. Transome thought the mostwonderful proof of an almost preternatural cleverness was, that Harrywould hardly ever talk, but preferred making inarticulate noises, orcombining syllables after a method of his own.

  "He can talk well enough if he likes," said Gappa, evidently thinkingthat Harry, like the monkeys, had deep reasons for his reticence.

  "You mind him," he added, nodding at Esther, and shaking with low-tonedlaughter. "You'll hear: he knows the right names of things well enough,but he likes to make his own. He'll give you one all to yourself beforelong."

  And when Harry seemed to have made up his mind distinctly that Esther'sname was "Boo," Mr. Transome nodded at her with triumphant satisfaction,and then told her in a low whisper, looking round cautiously beforehand,that Harry would never call Mrs. Transome "Gamma," but always "Bite."

  "It's wonderful!" said he, laughing slyly.

  The old man seemed so happy now in the new world created for him byDominic and Harry, that he would perhaps have made a holocaust of hisflies and beetles if it had been necessary in order to keep this living,lively kindness about him. He no longer confined himself to the library,but shuffled along from room to room, staying and looking on at what wasgoing forward whenever he did not find Mrs. Transome alone.

  To Esther the sight of this feeble-minded, timid, paralytic man, who hadlong abdicated all mastery over the things that were his, was somethingpiteous. Certainly this had never been part of the furniture she hadimagined for the delightful aristocratic dwelling in her Utopia; and thesad irony of such a lot impressed her the more because in her father shewas accustomed to age accompanied with mental acumen and activity. Herthoughts went back in conjecture over the past life of Mr. and Mrs.Transome, a couple so strangely different from each other. She found itimpossible to arrange their existence in the seclusion of this fine parkand in this lofty large-roomed house, where it seemed quite ridiculousto be anything so small as a human being, without finding it ratherdull. Mr. Transome had always had his beetles, but Mrs. Transome----? itwas not easy to conceive that the husband and wife had ever been veryfond of each other.

  Esther felt at her ease with Mrs. Transome: she was gratified by theconsciousness--for on this point Esther was very quick--that Mrs.Transome admired her, and looked at her with satisfied eyes. But whenthey were together in the early days of her stay, the conversationturned chiefly on what happened in Mrs. Transome's youth--what she worewhen she was presented at Court--who were the most distinguished andbeautiful women at that time--the terrible excitement of the FrenchRevolution--the emigrants she had known, and the history of varioustitled members of the Lingon family. And Esther, from native delicacy,did not lead to more recent topics of a personal kind. She was copiouslyinstructed that the Lingon family was better than that even of the elderTransomes, and was privileged with an explanation of the variousquarterings, which proved that the Lingon blood had been continuallyenriched. Poor Mrs. Transome, with her secret bitterness and dread,still found a flavor in this sort of pride; none the less becausecertain deeds of her own life had been in fatal inconsistency with it.Besides, genealogies entered into her stock of ideas, and her talk onsuch subjects was as necessary as the notes of the linnet or theblackbird. She had no ultimate analysis of things that went beyond bloodand family--the Herons of Fenshore or the Badgers of Hillbury. She hadnever seen behind the canvas with which her life was hung. In the dimbackground there was the burning mount and the tables of the law; in theforeground there was Lady Debarry privately gossipping about her, andLady Wyvern finally deciding not to send her invitations to dinner.Unlike that Semiramis who made laws to suit her practical license, shelived, poor soul, in the midst of desecrated sanctities, and of honorsthat looked tarnished in the light of monotonous and weary suns.Glimpses of the Lingon heraldry in their freshness were interesting toEsther; but it occurred to her that when she had known about them a goodwhile they would cease to be succulent themes of converse or meditation,and Mrs. Transome, having known them all along, might have felt a vacuumin spite of them.

  Nevertheless it was entertaining at present to be seated on softcushions with her netting before her, while Mrs. Transome went on withher embroidery, and told in that easy phrase, and with that refinedhigh-bred tone and accent which she possessed in perfection, familystories that to Esther were like so many novelettes; what diamonds werein the Earl's family, own cousins to Mrs. Transome; how poor Lady Sara'shusband went off into jealous madness only a month after their marriage,and dragged that sweet blue-eyed thing by the hair; and how thebrilliant Fanny, having married a country parson, became so niggardlythat she had gone about almost begging for fresh eggs from the farmers'wives, though she had done very well with her six sons, as there was abishop and no end of interest in the family, and two of them gotappointments in India.

  At present Mrs. Transome did not touch at all on her own time ofprivation, or her troubles with her eldest son, or on anything that layvery close to her heart. She conversed with Esther, and acted the partof hostess, as she performed her toilet and went on with her embroidery:these things were to be done whether one were happy or miserable. Eventhe patriarch Job, if he had been a gentleman of the modern West, wouldhave avoided picturesque disorder and poetical laments; and the friendswho called on him, though not less disposed than Bildad the Shuhite tohint that their unfortunate friend was in the wrong, would have sat onchairs and held their hats in their hands. The harder problems of ourlife have changed less than our manners; we wrestle wit
h the oldsorrows, but more decorously. Esther's inexperience prevented her fromdivining much about this fine gray-haired woman, whom she could not helpperceiving to stand apart from the family group, as if there were somecause of isolation for her both within and without. To her young heartthere was a peculiar interest in Mrs. Transome. An elderly woman, whosebeauty, position, and graceful kindness toward herself, made deferenceto her spontaneous, was a new figure in Esther's experience. Her quicklight movement was always ready to anticipate what Mrs. Transome wanted;her bright apprehension and silvery speech were always ready to cap Mrs.Transome's narratives or instructions even about doses and liniments,with some lively commentary. She must have behaved charmingly; for oneday when she had tripped across the room to put the screen just in theright place, Mrs. Transome said, taking her hand, "My dear, you make mewish I had a daughter!"

  That was pleasant; and so it was to be decked by Mrs. Transome's ownhands in a set of turquoise ornaments, which became her wonderfully,worn with a white Cashmere dress, which was also insisted on. Esthernever reflected that there was a double intention in these pretty waystoward her; with young generosity, she was rather preoccupied by thedesire to prove that she herself entertained no low triumph in the factthat she had rights prejudicial to this family whose life she waslearning. And besides, through all Mrs. Transome's perfect manners,there pierced some undefinable indications of a hidden anxiety muchdeeper than anything she could feel about this affair of the estate--towhich she often alluded slightly as a reason for informing Esther ofsomething. It was impossible to mistake her for a happy woman; and youngspeculation is always stirred by discontent for which there is noobvious cause. When we are older, we take the uneasy eyes and the bitterlips more as a matter of course.

  But Harold Transome was more communicative about recent years than hismother was. He thought it well that Esther should know how the fortuneof his family had been drained by law expenses, owing to suitsmistakenly urged by her family; he spoke of his mother's lonely lifeand pinched circumstances, of her lack of comfort in her elder son, andof the habit she had consequently acquired of looking at the gloomy sideof things. He hinted that she had been accustomed to dictate, and that,as he had left her when he was a boy, she had perhaps indulged the dreamthat he would come back a boy. She was still sore on the point of hispolitics. These things could not be helped, but so far as he could, hewished to make the rest of her life as cheerful as possible.

  Esther listened eagerly, and took these things to heart. The claim to aninheritance, the sudden discovery of a right to a fortune held byothers, was acquiring a very distinct and unexpected meaning for her.Every day she was getting more clearly into her imagination what itwould be to abandon her own past, and what she would enter into inexchange for it; what it would be to disturb a long possession, and howdifficult it was to fix a point at which the disturbance might begin, soas to be contemplated without pain.

  Harold Transome's thoughts turned on the same subject, but accompaniedby a different state of feeling and with more definite resolutions. Hesaw a mode of reconciling all difficulties, which looked pleasanter tohim the longer he looked at Esther. When she had been hardly a week inthe house, he had made up his mind to marry her; and it had neverentered into that mind that the decision did not rest entirely with hisinclination. It was not that he thought slightly of Esther's demands; hesaw that she would require considerable attractions to please her, andthat there were difficulties to be overcome. She was clearly a girl whomust be wooed; but Harold did not despair of presenting the requisiteattractions, and the difficulties gave more interest to the wooing thanhe could have believed. When he had said that he would not marry anEnglishwoman, he had always made a mental reservation in favor ofpeculiar circumstances; and now the peculiar circumstances were come. Tobe deeply in love was a catastrophe not likely to happen to him; but hewas readily amorous. No woman could make him miserable, but he wassensitive to the presence of women, and was kind to them; not withgrimaces, like a man of mere gallantry, but beamingly, easily, like aman of genuine good-nature. And each day he was near Esther, thesolution of all difficulties by marriage became a more pleasingprospect; though he had to confess to himself that the difficulties didnot diminish on a nearer view, in spite of the flattering sense thatshe brightened at his approach.

  Harold was not one to fail in a purpose for want of assiduity. After anhour or two devoted to business in the morning, he went to look forEsther, and if he did not find her at play with Harry and old Mr.Transome, or chatting with his mother, he went into the drawing-room,where she was usually either seated with a book on her knee and "makinga bed for her cheek" with one little hand, while she looked out of thewindow, or else standing in front of one of the full-length familyportraits with an air of rumination. Esther found it impossible to readin these days; her life was a book which she seemed herself to beconstructing--trying to make character clear before her, and lookinginto the ways of destiny.

  The active Harold had almost always something definite to propose by wayof filling the time; if it were fine, she must walk out with him and seethe grounds; and when the snow melted and it was no longer slippery, shemust get on horseback and learn to ride. If they staid indoors, she mustlearn to play at billiards, or she must go over the house and see thepictures he had had hung anew, or the costumes he had brought from theEast; or come into his study and look at the map of the estate, and hearwhat--if it had remained in his family--he had intended to do in everycorner of it in order to make the most of its capabilities.

  About a certain time in the morning Esther had learned to expect him.Let every wooer make himself strongly expected; he may succeed by dintof being absent, but hardly in the first instance. One morning Haroldfound her in the drawing-room, leaning against a console-table, andlooking at the full-length portrait of a certain Lady Betty Transome,who had lived a century and a half before, and had the usual charm ofladies in Sir Peter Lely's style.

  "Don't move, pray," he said on entering; "you look as if you werestanding for your own portrait."

  "I take that as an insinuation," said Esther, laughing, and movingtoward her seat on an ottoman near the fire, "for I notice almost allthe portraits are in a conscious, affected attitude. That fair LadyBetty looks as if she had been drilled into that posture, and had notwill enough of her own ever to move again unless she had a little pushgiven to her."

  "She brightens up that panel well with her long satin skirt," saidHarold, as he followed Esther, "but alive I dare say she would have beenless cheerful company."

  "One would certainly think that she had just been unpacked from silverpaper. Ah, how chivalrous you are!" said Esther, as Harold, kneeling onone knee, held her silken netting-stirrup for her to put her footthrough. She had often fancied pleasant scenes in which such homage wasrendered to her, and the homage was not disagreeable now it was reallycome; but, strangely enough, a little darting sensation at that momentwas accompanied by the vivid remembrance of some one who had never paidthe least attention to her foot. There had been a slight blush, such asoften came and went rapidly, and she was silent a moment. Haroldnaturally believed that it was he himself who was filling the field ofvision. He would have liked to place himself on the ottoman near Esther,and behave very much more like a lover; but he took a chair opposite toher at a circumspect distance. He dared not do otherwise. Along withEsther's playful charm she conveyed an impression of personal pride andhigh spirit which warned Harold's acuteness that in the delicacy oftheir present position he might easily make a false move and offend her.A woman was likely to be credulous about adoration, and to find nodifficulty in referring it to her intrinsic attractions; but Esther wastoo dangerously quick and critical not to discern the least awkwardnessthat looked like offering her marriage as a convenient compromise forhimself. Beforehand, he might have said that such characteristics ashers were not loveable in a woman; but, as it was, he found that thehope of pleasing her had a piquancy quite new to him.

  "I wonder," said Esther, break
ing the silence in her usual light silverytones--"I wonder whether the women who looked in that way ever felt anytroubles. I see there are two old ones up-stairs in the billiard-roomwho have only got fat; the expression of their faces is just of the samesort."

  "A woman ought never to have any trouble. There should always be a manto guard her from it. (Harold Transome was masculine and fallible; hehad incautiously sat down this morning to pay his addresses by talkabout nothing in particular; and, clever experienced man as he was, hefell into nonsense.)

  "But suppose the man himself got into trouble--you would wish her tomind about that. Or suppose," added Esther, suddenly looking up merrilyat Harold, "the man himself was troublesome?"

  "Oh, you must not strain probabilities in that way. The generality ofmen are perfect. Take me, for example."

  "You are a perfect judge of sauces," said Esther, who had her triumphsin letting Harold know that she was capable of taking notes.

  "That is perfection number one. Pray go on."

  "Oh, the catalogue is too long--I should be tired before I got to yourmagnificent ruby ring and your gloves always of the right color."

  "If you would let me tell you your perfections, I should not be tired."

  "That is not complimentary; it means that the list is short."

  "No; it means that the list is pleasant to dwell upon."

  "Pray don't begin," said Esther, with her pretty toss of the head; "itwould be dangerous to our good understanding. The person I liked best inthe world was one who did nothing but scold me and tell me of myfaults."

  When Esther began to speak, she meant to do no more than make a remoteunintelligible allusion, feeling, it must be owned, a naughty will toflirt and be saucy, and thwart Harold's attempts to be felicitous incompliment. But she had no sooner uttered the words than they seemed toher like a confession. A deep flush spread itself over her face andneck, and the sense that she was blushing went on deepening her color.Harold felt himself unpleasantly illuminated as to a possibility thathad never yet occurred to him. His surprise made an uncomfortable pause,in which Esther had time to feel much vexation.

  "You speak in the past tense," said Harold, at last; "yet I am ratherenvious of that person. I shall never be able to win your regard in thesame way. Is it anyone at Treby? Because in that case I can enquireabout your faults."

  "Oh, you know I have always lived among grave people," said Esther, moreable to recover herself now she was spoken to. "Before I came home to bewith my father I was nothing but a school-girl first, and then a teacherin different stages of growth. People in those circumstances are notusually flattered. But there are varieties in fault-finding. At ourParis school the master I liked best was an old man who stormed at meterribly when I read Racine, but yet showed that he was proud of me."

  Esther was getting quite cool again. But Harold was not entirelysatisfied; if there was any obstacle in his way, he wished to knowexactly what it was.

  "That must have been a wretched life for you at Treby," he said--"aperson of your accomplishments."

  "I used to be dreadfully discontented," said Esther, much occupied withmistakes she had made in her netting. "But I was becoming less so. Ihave had time to get rather wise, you know; I am two-and-twenty."

  "Yes," said Harold, rising and walking a few paces backward and forward,"you are past your majority; you are empress of your own fortunes--andmore besides."

  "Dear me," said Esther, letting her work fall, and leaning back againstthe cushions; "I don't think I know very well what to do with myempire."

  "Well," said Harold, pausing in front of her, leaning one arm on themantelpiece, and speaking very gravely, "I hope that in any case, sinceyou appear to have no near relative who understands affairs, you willconfide in me, and trust me with all your intentions as if I had noother personal concern in the matter than a regard for you. I hope youbelieve me capable of acting as the guardian of your interest, evenwhere it turns out to be inevitably opposed to my own."

  "I am sure you have given me reason to believe it," said Esther, withseriousness, putting out her hand to Harold. She had not been left inignorance that he had had opportunities twice offered of stifling herclaims.

  Harold raised the hand to his lips, but dared not retain it more than aninstant. Still the sweet reliance in Esther's manner made anirresistible temptation to him. After standing still a moment or two,while she bent over her work, he glided to the ottoman and seatedhimself close by her, looking at her busy hands.

  "I see you have made mistakes in your work," he said, bending stillnearer, for he saw that she was conscious, yet not angry.

  "Nonsense! you know nothing about it," said Esther, laughing, andcrushing up the soft silk under her palms. "Those blunders have a designin them."

  She looked round, and saw a handsome face very near her. Harold waslooking, as he felt, thoroughly enamored of this bright woman, who wasnot at all to his preconceived taste. Perhaps a touch of hypotheticjealousy now helped to heighten the effect. But he mastered allindiscretion, and only looked at her as he said--

  "I am wondering whether you have any deep wishes and secrets that Ican't guess."

  "Pray don't speak of my wishes," said Esther, quite overmastered by thisnew and apparently involuntary manifestation in Harold; "I could notpossibly tell you one at this moment--I think I shall never find themout again. Oh, yes," she said, abruptly, struggling to relieve herselffrom the oppression of unintelligible feelings--"I do know one wishdistinctly. I want to go and see my father. He writes me word that allis well with him, but still I want to see him."

  "You shall be driven there when you like."

  "May I go now--I mean as soon as it is convenient?" said Esther, rising.

  "I will give the order immediately, if you wish it," said Harold,understanding that the audience was broken up.