Felix Holt, the Radical

by George Eliot

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  Whichever way my days decline, I felt and feel, though left alone, His being working in mine own, The footsteps of his life in mine.

  * * * * *

  Dear friend, far off, my lost desire So far, so near, in woe and weal; Oh, loved the most when most I feel There is a lower and a higher!

  --TENNYSON: _In Memoriam_.

  After that morning on which Esther found herself reddened and confusedby the sense of having made a distant allusion to Felix Holt, she feltit impossible that she should even, as she had sometimes intended, speakof him explicitly to Harold, in order to discuss probabilities as to theissue of his trial. She was certain she could not do it withoutbetraying emotion, and there were very complex reasons in Esther's mindwhy she could not bear that Harold should detect her sensibility on thissubject. It was not only all the fibres of maidenly pride and reserve,of a bashfulness undefinably peculiar toward this man, who, while mucholder than herself, and bearing the stamp of an experience quite hiddenfrom her imagination, was taking strongly the aspect of a lover--it wasnot only this exquisite kind of shame which was at work within her:there was another sort of susceptibility in Esther, which her presentcircumstances tended to encourage, though she had come to regard it asnot at all lofty, but rather as something which condemned her tolittleness in comparison with a mind she had learned to venerate. Sheknew quite well that, to Harold Transome, Felix Holt was one of thecommon people who could come into question in no other than a publiclight. She had a native capability for discerning that the sense ofranks and degrees has its repulsions corresponding to the repulsionsdependent on difference of race and color; and she remembered her ownimpressions too well not to foresee that it would come on HaroldTransome as a shock, if he suspected there had been any love-passagesbetween her and this young man, who to him was of course no more thanany other intelligent member of the working class. "To him," said Estherto herself, with a reaction of her newer, better pride, "who has not hadthe sort of intercourse in which Felix Holt's cultured nature would haveasserted its superiority." And in her fluctuations on this matter, shefound herself mentally protesting that, whatever Harold might think,there was a light in which he was vulgar compared with Felix. Felix hadideas and motives which she did not believe Harold could understand.More than all, there was this test: she herself had no sense ofinferiority and just subjection when she was with Harold Transome; therewere even points in him for which she felt a touch, not of anger, but ofplayful scorn; whereas with Felix she had always a sense of dependenceand possible illumination. In those large, grave, candid gray eyes ofhis, love seemed something that belonged to the high enthusiasm of life,such as now might be forever shut out from her.

  All the same, her vanity winced at the idea that Harold should discernwhat, from his point of view, would seem like a degradation of her tasteand refinement. She could not help being gratified by all themanifestations from those around her that she was thought thoroughlyfitted for a high position--could not help enjoying, with more or lesskeenness, a rehearsal of that demeanor amongst luxuries and dignitieswhich had often been a part of her day-dreams, and the rehearsalincluded the reception of more and more emphatic attentions from Harold,and of an effusiveness in his manners, which, in proportion as it wouldhave been offensive if it had appeared earlier, became flattering as theeffect of a growing acquaintance and daily contact. It comes in so manyforms in this life of ours--the knowledge that there is somethingsweetest and noblest of which we despair, and the sense of somethingpresent that solicits us with an immediate and easy indulgence. Andthere is a pernicious falsity in the pretence that a woman's love liesabove the range of such temptations.

  Day after day Esther had an arm offered her, had very beaming looks uponher, had opportunities for a great deal of light, airy talk, in whichshe knew herself to be charming, and had the attractive interest ofnoticing Harold's practical cleverness--the masculine ease with which hegoverned everybody and administered everything about him, without theleast harshness, and with a facile good-nature which yet was not weak.In the background, too, there was the ever-present consideration, thatif Harold Transome wished to marry her, and she accepted him, theproblem of her lot would be more easily solved than in any other way. Itwas difficult, by any theory of Providence, or consideration of results,to see a course which she could call duty: if something would come andurge itself strongly as pleasure, and save her from the effort to find aclue of principle amid the labyrinthine confusions of right andpossession, the promise could not but seem alluring. And yet, this lifeat Transome Court was _not_ the life of her day-dreams: there wasdullness already in its ease, and in the absence of high demand; andthere was a vague consciousness that the love of this not unfascinatingman who hovered about her gave an air of moral mediocrity to all herprospects. She would not have been able perhaps to define thisimpression but somehow or other by this elevation of fortune it seemedthat the higher ambition which had begun to spring in her was forevernullified. All life seemed cheapened; as it might seem to a youngstudent who, having believed that to gain a certain degree he must writea thesis in which he would bring his powers to bear with memorableeffect, suddenly ascertained that no thesis was expected, but the sum(in English money) of twenty-seven pounds ten shillings and sixpence.

  After all, she was a woman, and could not make her own lot. As she hadonce said to Felix, "A woman must choose meaner things, because onlymeaner things are offered to her." Her lot is made for her by the loveshe accepts. And Esther began to think that her lot was being made forher by the love that was surrounding her with the influence of a gardenon a summer morning.

  Harold, on his side, was conscious that the interest of his wooing wasnot standing still. He was beginning to think it a conquest, in which itwould be disappointing to fail, even if this fair nymph had no claim tothe estate. He would have liked--and yet he would not have liked--thatjust a slight shadow of doubt as to his success should be removed. Therewas something about Esther that he did not altogether understand. Shewas clearly a woman that could be governed: she was too charming for himto fear that she would ever be obstinate or interfering. Yet there was alightning that shot out of her now and then, which seemed the sign of adangerous judgment; as if she inwardly saw something more admirable thanHarold Transome. Now, to be perfectly charming, a woman should not seethis.

  One fine February day, when already the golden and purple crocuses wereout on the terrace--one of those flattering days which sometimes precedethe north-east winds of March, and make believe that the coming springwill be enjoyable--a very striking group, of whom Esther and Harold madea part, came out at midday to walk upon the gravel at Transome Court.They did not, as usual, go toward the pleasure grounds on the easternside, because Mr. Lingon, who was one of them, was going home, and hisroad lay through the stone gateway into the park.

  Uncle Lingon, who disliked painful confidences, and preferred knowing"no mischief of anybody," had not objected to be let into the importantsecret about Esther, and was sure at once that the whole affair, insteadof being a misfortune, was a piece of excellent luck. For himself, hedid not profess to be a judge of women, but she seemed to have all the"points," and to carry herself as well as Arabella did, which was sayinga good deal. Honest Jack Lingon's first impressions quickly becametraditions, which no subsequent evidence could disturb. He was fond ofhis sister, and seemed never to be conscious of any change for the worsein her since their early time. He considered that man a beast who saidanything unpleasant about the persons to whom he was attached. It wasnot that he winked; his wide-open eyes saw nothing but what his easydisposition inclined him to see. Harold was a good fellow, a cleverchap; and Esther's peculiar fitness for him, under all thecircumstances, was extraordinary; it reminded him of something in theclassics, though he couldn't think exactly what--in fact, a memory was anasty uneasy thing. Esther was always glad when the old rector came.With a
n odd contrariety to her former niceties she liked his roughattire and careless frank speech; they were something not point devicethat seemed to connect the life of Transome Court with that rougher,commoner world where her home had been.

  She and Harold were walking a little in advance of the rest of theparty, who were retarded by various causes. Old Mr. Transome, wrapped ina cloth cloak trimmed with sable, and with a soft warm cap also trimmedwith fur on his head, had a shuffling uncertain walk. Little Harry wasdragging a toy vehicle, on the seat of which he had insisted on tyingMoro with a piece of scarlet drapery round him, making him look like abarbaric prince in a chariot. Moro, having little imagination, objectedto this, and barked with feeble snappishness as the tyrannous lad ranforward, then whirled the chariot round, and ran back to "Gappa," thencame to a dead stop, which overset the chariot, that he might watchUncle Lingon's water-spaniel run for the hurled stick and bring it inhis mouth. Nimrod kept close to his old master's legs, glancing withmuch indifference at this youthful ardor about sticks--he had "gonethrough all that"; and Dominic walked by, looking on blandly, andtaking care both of young and old. Mrs. Transome was not there.

  ESTHER LYON AND HAROLD TRANSOME.]

  Looking back and seeing that they were a good deal in advance of therest, Esther and Harold paused.

  "What do you think about thinning the trees over there?" said Harold,pointing with his stick. "I have a bit of a notion that if they weredivided into clumps so as to show the oaks beyond it would be a greatimprovement. It would give an idea of extent that is lost now. And theremight be some very pretty clumps got out of those mixed trees. What doyou think?"

  "I should think it would be an improvement. One likes a 'beyond'everywhere. But I never heard you express yourself so dubiously," saidEsther, looking at him rather archly: "you generally see things soclearly, and are so convinced, that I shall begin to feel quitetottering if I find you in uncertainty. Pray don't begin to be doubtful;it is infectious."

  "You think me a great deal too sure--too confident?" said Harold.

  "Not at all. It is an immense advantage to know your own will, when youalways mean to have it."

  "But suppose I couldn't get it, in spite of meaning?" said Harold, witha beaming inquiry in his eyes.

  "Oh, then," said Esther, turning her head aside, carelessly, as if shewere considering the distant birch-stems, "you would bear it quiteeasily, as you did your not getting into Parliament. You would know youcould get it another time--or get something else as good."

  "The fact is," said Harold, moving on a little, as if he did not want tobe quite overtaken by the others, "you consider me a fat, fatuous,self-satisfied fellow."

  "Oh, there are degrees," said Esther, with a silvery laugh; "you havejust as much of those qualities as is becoming. There are differentstyles. You are perfect in your own."

  "But you prefer another style, I suspect. A more submissive, tearful,devout worshipper, who would offer his incense with more trembling."

  "You are quite mistaken," said Esther, still lightly. "I find I am verywayward. When anything is offered to me, it seems that I prize it less,and don't want to have it."

  Here was a very baulking answer, but in spite of it Harold could nothelp believing that Esther was very far from objecting to the sort ofincense he had been offering just then.

  "I have often read that that is in human nature," she went on, "yet ittakes me by surprise in myself. I suppose," she added, smiling, "Ididn't think of myself as human nature."

  "I don't confess to the same waywardness," said Harold. "I am very fondof things that I can get. And I never longed much for anything out of myreach. Whatever I feel sure of getting I like all the better. I thinkhalf those priggish maxims about human nature in the lump are no more tobe relied on than universal remedies. There are different sorts of humannature. Some are given to discontent and longing, others to securing andenjoying. And let me tell you, the discontented longing style isunpleasant to live with."

  Harold nodded with a meaning smile at Esther.

  "Oh, I assure you I have abjured all admiration for it," she said,smiling up at him in return.

  She was remembering the schooling Felix had given her about her Byronicheroes, and was inwardly adding a third sort of human nature to thosevarieties which Harold had mentioned. He naturally supposed that hemight take the abjuration to be entirely in his own favor. And his facedid look very pleasant; she could not help liking him, although he wascertainly too particular about sauces, gravies, and wines, and had a wayof virtually measuring the value of everything by the contribution itmade to his own pleasure. His very good-nature was unsympathetic; itnever came from any thorough understanding or deep respect for what wasin the mind of the person he obliged or indulged; it was like hiskindness to his mother--an arrangement of his for the happiness ofothers, which, if they were sensible, ought to succeed. And aninevitable comparison which haunted her, showed her the same quality inhis political views: the utmost enjoyment of his own advantages was thesolvent that blended pride in his family and position, with the adhesionto changes that were to obliterate tradition and melt down enchased goldheirlooms into plating for the egg-spoons of "the people." It isterrible--the keen bright eye of a woman when it has once been turnedwith admiration on what is severely true; but then, the severely truerarely comes within its range of vision. Esther had had an unusualillumination Harold did not know how, but he discerned enough of theeffect to make him more cautious than he had ever been in his lifebefore. That caution would have prevented him just then from followingup the question as to the style of person Esther would think pleasant tolive with, even if Uncle Lingon had not joined them, as he did, to talkabout soughing tiles, saying presently that he should turn across thegrass and get on to the Home Farm, to have a look at the improvementsthat Harold was making with such racing speed.

  "But you know, lad," said the rector, as they paused at the expectedparting, "you can't do everything in a hurry. The wheat must have timeto grow, even when you've reformed all us old Tories off the face of theground. Dash it! now the election's over, I'm an old Tory again. Yousee, Harold, a Radical won't do for the county. At another election, youmust be on the look-out for a borough where they want a bit of blood. Ishould have liked you uncommonly to stand for the county; and a Radicalof good family squares well enough with a new-fashioned Tory like youngDebarry; but you see, these riots--it's been a nasty business. I shallhave my hair combed at the sessions for a year to come. But, heyday!What dame is this, with a small boy?--not one of my parishioners?"

  Harold and Esther turned, and saw an elderly woman advancing with a tinyred-haired boy, scantily attired as to his jacket, which merged into asmall sparrow-tail a little higher than his waist, but muffled as to histhroat with a blue woollen comforter. Esther recognized the pair toowell, and felt very uncomfortable. We are so pitiably in subjection toall sorts of vanity--even the very vanities we are practicallyrenouncing! And in spite of the almost solemn memories connected withMrs. Holt, Esther's first shudder was raised by the idea of what thingsthis woman would say, and by the mortification of having Felix in anyway represented by his mother.

  As Mrs. Holt advanced into closer observation, it became more evidentthat she was attired with a view not to charm the eye, but rather toafflict it with all that expression of woe which belongs to very rustybombazine and the limpest state of false hair. Still, she was not awoman to lose the sense of her own value, or become abject in hermanners under any circumstances of depression and she had a peculiarsense on the present occasion that she was justly relying on the forceof her own character and judgment, in independence of anything that Mr.Lyon or the masterful Felix would have said, if she had thought themworthy to know of her undertaking. She courtesied once, as if to theentire group, now including even the dogs, who showed various degrees ofcuriosity, especially as to what kind of game the smaller animal Jobmight prove to be after due investigation and then she proceeded atonce toward Esther, who, in spite of her annoyance, took her
arm fromHarold's, said, "How do you do, Mrs. Holt?" very kindly, and stooped topat little Job.

  "Yes--you know him, Miss Lyon," said Mrs. Holt, in that tone whichimplies that the conversation is intended for the edification of thecompany generally; "you know the orphin child, as Felix brought home forme that am his mother to take care of. And it's what I've done--nobodymore so--though it's trouble is my reward."

  Esther had raised herself again, to stand in helpless endurance ofwhatever might be coming. But by this time young Harry, struck even morethan the dogs by the appearance of Job Tudge, had come round dragginghis chariot, and placed himself close to the pale child, whom heexceeded in height and breadth, as well as in depth of coloring. Helooked into Job's eyes, peeped round at the tail of his jacket andpulled it a little, and then, taking off the tiny cloth-cap, observedwith much interest the tight red curls which had been hidden underneathit. Job looked at his inspector with the round blue eyes ofastonishment, until Harry, purely by way of experiment, took a bon-bonfrom a fantastic wallet which hung over his shoulder, and applied thetest to Job's lips. The result was satisfactory to both. Every one hadbeen watching this small comedy, and when Job crunched the bon-bon whileHarry looked down at him inquiringly and patted his back, there wasgeneral laughter except on the part of Mrs. Holt, who was shaking herhead slowly, and slapping the back of her left hand with the painfulpatience of a tragedian whose part is in abeyance to an ill-timedintroduction of the humorous.

  "I hope Job's cough has been better lately," said Esther, in mereuncertainty as to what it would be desirable to say or do.

  "I dare say you hope so, Miss Lyon," said Mrs. Holt, looking at thedistant landscape. "I've no reason to disbelieve but what you wish wellto the child, and to Felix, and to me. I'm sure nobody has any occasionto wish me otherways. My character will bear enquiry, and what you, asare young, don't know, others can tell you. That was what I said tomyself when I made up my mind to come here and see you, and ask you toget me the freedom to speak to Mr. Transome. I said, whatever Miss Lyonmay be now, in the way of being lifted up among great people, she's ourminister's daughter, and was not above coming to my house and walkingwith my son Felix--though I'll not deny he made that figure on theLord's Day, that'll perhaps go against him with the judge, if anybodythinks well to tell him."

  Here Mrs. Holt paused a moment, as with a mind arrested by the painfulimage it had called up.

  Esther's face was glowing, when Harold glanced at her; and seeing this,he was considerate enough to address Mrs. Holt instead of her.

  "You are then the mother of the unfortunate young man who is in prison?"

  "Indeed I am, sir," said Mrs. Holt, feeling that she was now in deepwater. "It's not likely I should claim him if he wasn't my own; thoughit's not by my will, nor my advice, sir, that he ever walked; for I gavehim none but good. But if everybody's son was guided by their mothers,the world 'ud be different; my son is not worse than many anotherwoman's son, and that in Treby, whatever they may say as haven't gottheir sons in prison. And as to his giving up the doctoring, and thenstopping his father's medicines, I know it's bad--that I know--but it'sme has had to suffer, and it's me a king and Parliament 'ud consider, ifthey meant to do the right thing, and had anybody to make it known to'em. And as for the rioting and killing the constable--my son said mostplain to me he never meant it, and there was his bit of potato-pie fordinner getting dry by the fire, the whole blessed time as I sat andnever knew what was coming on me. And it's my opinion as if great peoplemake elections to get themselves into Parliament, and there's riot andmurder to do it, they ought to see as the widow and the widow's sondoesn't suffer for it. I well know my duty: and I read my Bible; and Iknow in Jude where it's been stained with the dried tulip-leaves thismany a year, as you're told not to rail at your betters if they was thedevil himself; nor will I; but this I do say, if it's three Mr.Transomes instead of one as is listening to me, as there's them ought togo to the king and get him to let off my son Felix."

  This speech, in its chief points, had been deliberately prepared. Mrs.Holt had set her face like a flint, to make the gentry know their dutyas she knew hers: her defiant defensive tone was due to theconsciousness, not only that she was braving a powerful audience, butthat she was daring to stand on the strong basis of her own judgment inopposition to her son's. Her proposals had been waived off by Mr Lyonand Felix; but she had long had the feminine conviction that if shecould "get to speak" in the right quarter, things might be different.The daring bit of impromptu about the three Mr. Transomes wasimmediately suggested by a movement of old Mr. Transome to theforeground in a line with Mr. Lingon and Harold; his furred and unusualcostume appearing to indicate a mysterious dignity which she must hastento include in her appeal.

  And there were reasons that none could have foreseen, which made Mrs.Holt's remonstrance immediately effective. While old Mr. Transomestared, very much like a waxen image in which the expression is afailure, and the rector, accustomed to female parishioners andcomplainants, looked on with a smile in his eyes, Harold said at once,with cordial kindness--

  "I think you are quite right, Mrs. Holt. And for my part, I amdetermined to do my best for your son, both in the witness-box andelsewhere. Take comfort; if it is necessary, the king shall be appealedto. And rely upon it, I shall bear you in mind as Felix Holt's mother."

  Rapid thoughts had convinced Harold that in this way he was bestcommending himself to Esther.

  "Well, sir," said Mrs. Holt, who was not going to pour forthdisproportionate thanks, "I am glad to hear you speak so becoming; andif you had been the king himself, I should have made free to tell you myopinion. For the Bible says the king's favor is toward a wise servant;and it's reasonable to think he'd make all the more account of them ashave never been in service, or took wage, which I never did, and neverthought of my son doing; and his father left money, meaning otherways,so as he might have been a doctor on horseback at this very minute,instead of being in prison."

  "What! was he regularly apprenticed to a doctor?" said Mr. Lingon, whohad not understood this before.

  "Sir, he was, and most clever, like his father before him, only heturned contrary. But as for harming anybody, Felix never meant to harmanybody but himself and his mother, which he certainly did in respect ofhis clothes, and taking to be a low workingman, and stopping my livingrespectable, more particular by the pills, which had a sale, as you maybe sure they suited people's insides. And what folks can never haveboxes enough of to swallow, I should think you have a right to sell. Andthere's many and many a text for it, as I've opened on without everthinking; for if it's true, 'Ask, and you shall have,' I should thinkit's truer when you're willing to pay for what you have."

  This was a little too much for Mr. Lingon's gravity; he exploded, andHarold could not help following him. Mrs. Holt fixed her eyes on thedistance, and slapped the back of her left hand again; it might be thatthis kind of mirth was the peculiar effect produced by forcible truth onhigh and worldly people who were neither in the Independent nor theGeneral Baptist connection.

  "I'm sure you must be tired with your long walk, and little Job too,"said Esther, by way of breaking this awkward scene. "Aren't you, Job?"she added, stooping to caress the child, who was timidly shrinking fromHarry's invitation to him to pull the little chariot--Harry's view beingthat Job would make a good horse for him to beat, and would run fasterthan Gappa.

  "It's well you can feel for the orphin child, Miss Lyon," said Mrs.Holt, choosing an indirect answer rather than to humble herself byconfessing fatigue before gentlemen who seemed to be taking her toolightly. "I didn't believe but what you'd behave pretty, as you alwaysdid to me, though everybody said you held yourself high. But I'm sureyou never did to Felix, for you let him sit by you at the Free Schoolbefore all the town, and him with never a bit of stock round his neck.And it shows you saw _that_ in him worth taking notice of;--and it isbut right, if you know my words are true, as you should speak for him tothe gentlemen."

  "I assure you, Mrs. Holt,"
said Harold, coming to the rescue--"I assureyou that enough has been said to make me use my best efforts for yourson. And now, pray, go on to the house with the little boy and take somerest. Dominic, show Mrs. Holt the way, and ask Mrs. Hickes to make hercomfortable, and see that somebody takes her back to Treby in thebuggy."

  "I will go back with Mrs. Holt," said Esther, making an effort againstherself.

  "No, pray," said Harold, with that kind of entreaty which is really adecision. "Let Mrs. Holt have time to rest. We shall have returned, andyou can see her before she goes. We will say good-by for the present,Mrs. Holt."

  The poor woman was not sorry to have the prospect of rest and food,especially for "the orphin child," of whom she was tenderly careful.Like many women who appear to others to have a masculine decisiveness oftone, and to themselves to have a masculine force of mind, and who comeinto severe collision with sons arrived at the masterful stage, she hadthe maternal cord vibrating strongly within her toward all tinychildren. And when she saw Dominic pick up Job and hoist him on his armfor a little while, by way of making acquaintance, she regarded him withan approval which she had not thought it possible to extend to aforeigner. Since Dominic was going, Harry and old Mr. Transome chose tofollow. Uncle Lingon shook hands and turned off across the grass, andthus Esther was left alone with Harold.

  But there was a new consciousness between them. Harold's quickperception was least likely to be slow in seizing indications ofanything that might affect his position with regard to Esther. Some timebefore, his jealousy had been awakened to the possibility that beforeshe had known him she had been deeply interested in some one else.Jealousy of all sorts--whether for our fortune or our love--is ready atcombinations, and likely even to outstrip the fact. And Esther's renewedconfusion, united with her silence about Felix, which now first seemednoteworthy, and with Mrs. Holt's graphic details as to her walking withhim and letting him sit by her before all the town were grounds notmerely for a suspicion, but for a conclusion in Harold's mind. Theeffect of this which he at once regarded as a discovery, was ratherdifferent from what Esther had anticipated. It seemed to him that Felixwas the least formidable person that he could have found as an object ofinterest antecedent to himself. A young workman who had got himselfthrown into prison, whatever recommendations he might have had for agirl at a romantic age in the dreariness of Dissenting society at Treby,could hardly be considered by Harold in the light of a rival. Esther wastoo clever and tasteful a woman to make a ballad heroine of herself, bybestowing her beauty and her lands on this lowly lover. Besides, Haroldcherished the belief that, at the present time, Esther was more wiselydisposed to bestow these things on another lover in every way eligible.But in two directions this discovery had a determining effect on him,his curiosity was stirred to know exactly what the relation with Felixhad been, and he was solicitous that his behavior with regard to thisyoung man should be such as to enhance his own merit in Esther's eyes.At the same time he was not inclined to any euphemisms that would seemto bring Felix into the lists with himself.

  Naturally when they were left alone, it was Harold who spoke first. "Ishould think there's a good deal of worth in this young fellow--thisHolt, notwithstanding the mistakes he has made. A little queer andconceited, perhaps; but that is usually the case with men of his classwhen they are at all superior to their fellows."

  "Felix Holt is a highly cultivated man; he is not at all conceited,"said Esther. The different kinds of pride within her were coalescingnow. She was aware that there had been a betrayal.

  "Ah?" said Harold, not quite liking the tone of this answer. "Thiseccentricity is a sort of fanaticism, then?--this giving up being adoctor on horseback, as the old woman calls it, and taking to--let mesee--watchmaking, isn't it?"

  "If it is eccentricity to be very much better than other men, he iscertainly eccentric; and fanatical too, if it is fanatical to renounceall small selfish motives for the sake of a great and unselfish one. Inever knew what nobleness of character really was before I knew FelixHolt."

  It seemed to Esther as if in the excitement of this moment, her ownwords were bringing her a clearer revelation.

  "God bless me!" said Harold, in a tone of surprised yet thorough belief,and looking in Esther's face. "I wish you had talked to me about thisbefore."

  Esther at that moment looked perfectly beautiful, with an expressionwhich Harold had never hitherto seen. All the confusion which haddepended on personal feeling had given way before the sense that she hadto speak the truth about the man whom she felt to be admirable.

  "I think I didn't see the meaning of anything fine--I didn't even seethe value of my father's character, until I had been taught a little byhearing what Felix Holt said, and seeing that his life was like hiswords."

  Harold looked and listened, and felt his slight jealousy allayed ratherthan heightened. "This is not like love," he said to himself, with somesatisfaction. With all due regard to Harold Transome, he was one ofthose men who are liable to make the greater mistakes about a particularwoman's feelings, because they pique themselves on a power ofinterpretation derived from much experience. Experience is enlightening,but with a difference. Experiments on live animals may go on for a longperiod, and yet the fauna on which they are made may be limited. Theremay be a passion in the mind of a woman which precipitates her, notalong the path of easy beguilement, but into a great leap away from it.Harold's experience had not taught him this; and Esther's enthusiasmabout Felix Holt did not seem to him to be dangerous.

  "He's quite an apostolic sort of fellow, then," was the self-quietinganswer he gave to her last words. "He didn't look like that; but I hadonly a short interview with him, and I was given to understand that herefused to see me in prison. I believe he's not very well inclinedtoward me. But you saw a great deal of him, I suppose, and yourtestimony to any one is enough for me," said Harold, lowering his voicerather tenderly. "Now I know what your opinion is, I shall spare noeffort on behalf of such a young man. In fact, I had come to the sameresolution before, but your wish would make difficult things easy."

  After that energetic speech of Esther's, as often happens, the tears hadjust suffused her eyes. It was nothing more than might have beenexpected in a tender-hearted woman, considering Felix Holt'scircumstances, and the tears only made more lovely the look with whichshe met Harold's when he spoke so kindly. She felt pleased with him; shewas open to the fallacious delight of being assured that she had powerover him to make him do what she liked, and quite forgot the manyimpressions which had convinced her that Harold had a padded yoke readyfor the neck of every man, woman, and child that depended on him.

  After a short silence, they were getting near the stone gateway, andHarold said, with an air of intimate consultation--

  "What could we do for this young man, supposing he were let off? I shallsend a letter with fifty pounds to the old woman to-morrow. I ought tohave done it before, but it really slipped my memory, amongst the manythings that have occupied me lately. But this young man--what do youthink would be the best thing we could do for him, if he gets at largeagain. He should be put in a position where his qualities could be moretelling."

  Esther was recovering her liveliness a little, and was disposed toencourage it for the sake of veiling other feelings, about which shefelt renewed reticence, now that the overpowering influence of herenthusiasm was past. She was rather wickedly amused and scornful atHarold's misconceptions and ill-placed intentions of patronage.

  "You are hopelessly in the dark," she said, with a light laugh and tossof her head. "What would you offer Felix Holt? a place in the Excise?You might as well think of offering it to John the Baptist. Felix haschosen his lot. He means always to be a poor man."

  "Means? Yes," said Harold, slightly piqued, "but what a man meansusually depends on what happens. I mean to be a commoner; but a peeragemight present itself under acceptable circumstances."

  "Oh, there is no sum in proportion to be done there," said Esther, againgaily. "As you are to a peerage so is not Feli
x Holt to any offer ofadvantage that you could imagine for him."

  "You must think him fit for any position--the first in the county."

  "No, I don't," said Esther, shaking her head mischievously. "I think himtoo high for it."

  "I see you can be ardent in your admiration."

  "Yes, it is my champagne; you know I don't like the other kind."

  "That would be satisfactory if one were sure of getting youradmiration," said Harold, leading her up to the terrace, and amongst thecrocuses, from whence they had a fine view of the park and river. Theystood still near the east parapet, and saw the dash of light on thewater, and the pencilled shadows of the trees on the grassy lawn.

  "Would it do as well to admire you, instead of being worthy to beadmired?" said Harold, turning his eyes from that landscape to Esther'sface.

  "It would be a thing to be put up with," said Esther, smiling at himrather roguishly. "But you are not in that state of self-despair."

  "Well, I am conscious of not having those severe virtues that you havebeen praising."

  "That is true. You are quite in another _genre_."

  "A woman would not find me a tragic hero."

  "Oh, no! She must dress for general comedy--such as your mother oncedescribed to me--where the most thrilling event is the drawing of ahandsome check."

  "You are a naughty fairy," said Harold, daring to press Esther's hand alittle more closely to him, and drawing her down the eastern steps intothe pleasure-ground, as if he were unwilling to give up theconversation. "Confess that you are disgusted with my want of romance."

  "I shall not confess to being disgusted. I shall ask you to confess thatyou are not a romantic figure."

  "I am a little too stout."

  "For romance--yes. At least you must find security for not gettingstouter."

  "And I don't look languishing enough?"

  "Oh, yes--rather too much so--at a fine cigar."

  "And I am not in danger of committing suicide?"

  "No; you are a widower."

  Harold did not reply immediately to this last thrust of Esther's. Shehad uttered it with innocent thoughtlessness from the playfulsuggestions of the moment; but it was a fact that Harold's previousmarried life had entered strongly in her impressions about him. Thepresence of Harry made it inevitable. Harold took this allusion ofEsther's as an indication that his quality of widower was a point thatmade against him; and after a brief silence he said, in an altered, moreserious tone--

  "You don't suppose, I hope, that any other woman has ever held the placethat you could hold in my life?"

  Esther began to tremble a little, as she always did when the love-talkbetween them seemed getting serious. She only gave the rather stumblinganswer, "How so?"

  "Harry's mother had been a slave--was bought, in fact."

  It was impossible for Harold to preconceive the effect this had onEsther. His natural disqualification for judging of a girl's feelingswas heightened by the blinding effect of an exclusive object--which wasto assure her that her own place was peculiar and supreme. HithertoEsther's acquaintance with oriental love was derived chiefly fromByronic poems, and this had not sufficed to adjust her mind to a newstory, where the Giaour concerned was giving her his arm. She was unableto speak; and Harold went on--

  "Though I am close on thirty-five, I never met with a woman at all likeyou before. There are new eras in one's life that are equivalent toyouth--are something better than youth. I was never an aspirant till Iknew you."

  Esther was still silent.

  "Not that I dare to call myself that. I am not so confident a personageas you imagine. I am necessarily in a painful position for a man who hasany feeling."

  Here at last Harold had stirred the right fibre. Esther's generosityseized at once the whole meaning implied in that last sentence. She hada fine sensibility to the line at which flirtation must cease; and shewas now pale and shaken with feelings she had not yet defined forherself.

  "Do not let us speak of difficult things any more now," she said, withgentle seriousness. "I am come into a new world of late, and have tolearn life all over again. Let us go in. I must see poor Mrs. Holtagain, and my little friend Job."

  She paused at the glass door that opened on the terrace, and enteredthere, while Harold went round to the stables.

  When Esther had been up-stairs and descended again into the largeentrance-hall, she found its stony capaciousness made lively by humanfigures extremely unlike the statues. Since Harry insisted on playingwith Job again, Mrs. Holt and her orphan, after dining, had just beenbrought to this delightful scene for a game at hide-and-seek, and forexhibiting the climbing powers of the two pet squirrels. Mrs. Holt saton a stool, in singular relief against the pedestal of the Apollo, whileDominic and Denner (otherwise Mrs. Hickes) bore her company; Harry, inhis bright red and purple, flitted about like a great tropic bird afterthe sparrow-tailed Job, who hid himself with much intelligence behindthe scagliola pillars and the pedestals; while one of the squirrelsperched itself on the head of the tallest statue, and the other wasalready peeping down from among the heavy stuccoed angels on theceiling, near the summit of a pillar.

  Mrs. Holt held on her lap a basket filled with good things for Job, andseemed much soothed by pleasant company and excellent treatment. AsEsther, descending softly and unobserved, leaned over the stonebanisters and looked at the scene for a minute or two, she saw that Mrs.Holt's attention, having been directed to the squirrel which hadscampered on to the head of the Silenus carrying the infant Bacchus, hadbeen drawn downward to the tiny babe looked at with so much affection bythe rather ugly and hairy gentleman, of whom she nevertheless spoke withreserve as of one who possibly belonged to the Transome family.

  "It's most pretty to see its little limbs, and the gentleman holding it.I should think he was amiable by his look; but it was odd he should havehis likeness took without any clothes. Was he Transome by name?" (Mrs.Holt suspected that there might be a mild madness in the family.)

  Denner, peering and smiling quietly, was about to reply, when she wasprevented by the appearance of old Mr. Transome, who since his walk hadbeen having "forty winks" on the sofa in the library, and now came outto look for Harry. He had doffed his fur cap and cloak, but in lyingdown to sleep he had thrown over his shoulders a soft Oriental scarfwhich Harold had given him, and this still hung over his scanty whitehair and down to his knees, held fast by his wooden-looking arms andlaxly-clasped hands, which fell in front of him.

  This singular appearance of an undoubted Transome fitted exactly intoMrs. Holt's thought at the moment. It lay in the probabilities of thingsthat gentry's intellects should be peculiar: since they had not to gettheir own living, the good Lord might have economized in their case thatcommon-sense which others were so much more in need of; and in theshuffling figure before her she saw a descendant of the gentleman whohad chosen to be represented without his clothes--all the more eccentricwhere there were the means of buying the best. But these oddities "saidnothing" in great folks, who were powerful in high quarters all thesame. And Mrs. Holt rose and courtesied with a proud respect, preciselyas she would have done if Mr. Transome had looked as wise as LordBurleigh.

  "I hope I'm in no way taking a liberty, sir," she began, while the oldgentleman looked at her with bland feebleness; "I'm not that woman tosit anywhere out of my own home without inviting and pressing to. But Iwas brought here to wait, because the little gentleman wanted to playwith the orphin child."

  "Very glad, my good woman--sit down--sit down," said Mr. Transome,nodding and smiling between his clauses. "Nice little boy. Yourgrandchild?"

  "Indeed, sir, no," said Mrs. Holt, continuing to stand. Quite apart fromany awe of Mr. Transome--sitting down, she felt, would be a too greatfamiliarity with her own pathetic importance on this extra andunlooked-for occasion. "It's not me has any grandchild, nor ever shallhave, though most fit. But with my only son saying he'll never bemarried, and in prison besides, and some saying he'll be transported,you may see yourself--th
ough a gentleman--as there isn't much chance ofmy having grandchildren of my own. And this is old Master Tudge'sgrandchild, as my own Felix took to for pity because he was sickly andclemm'd, and I was noways against it, being of a tender heart. For I'm awidow myself, and my son Felix, though big, is fatherless, and I know myduty in consequence. And it's to be wished, sir, as others should knowit as are more in power and live in great houses, and can ride in acarriage where they will. And if you're the gentleman as is the head ofeverything--and it's not to be thought you'd give up to your son as apoor widow's been forced to do--it behooves you to take the part of themas are deserving; for the Bible says gray hairs should speak."

  "Yes, yes--poor woman--what shall I say?" said old Mr. Transome, feelinghimself scolded, and, as usual, desirous of mollifying displeasure.

  "Sir, I can tell you what to say fast enough; for it's what I should saymyself if I could get to speak to the king. For I've asked them thatknow, and they say it's the truth, both out of the Bible, and in, as theking can pardon anything and anybody. And judging by his countenance onthe new signs, and the talk there was a while ago about his being thepeople's friend, as the minister once said it from the very pulpit--ifthere's any meaning in words, he'll do the right thing by me and my son,if he's asked proper."

  "Yes--a very good man--he'll do anything right," said Mr. Transome,whose own ideas about the king just then were somewhat misty, consistingchiefly in broken reminiscences of George III. "I'll ask him anythingyou like," he added, with a pressing desire to satisfy Mrs. Holt, whoalarmed him slightly.

  "Then, sir, if you'll go in your carriage and say, this young man, FelixHolt by name, as his father was known the country round, and his mothermost respectable--he never meant harm to anybody, and so far from bloodymurder and fighting, would part with his victual to them that needed itmore--and if you'd get other gentlemen to say the same, and if they'renot satisfied to enquire--I'll not believe but what the king 'ud let myson out of prison. Or if it's true he must stand his trial, the king 'udtake care no mischief happened to him. I've got my senses, and I'llnever believe as in a country where there's a God above and a kingbelow, the right thing can't be done if great people was willing to doit."

  Mrs. Holt, like all orators, had waxed louder and more energetic,ceasing to propel her arguments, and being propelled by them. Poor oldMr. Transome, getting more and more frightened at this severe-spokenwoman, who had the horrible possibility to his mind of being a noveltythat was to become permanent, seemed to be fascinated by fear, and stoodhelplessly forgetful that if he liked he might turn round and walk away.

  Little Harry, alive to anything that had relation to "Gappa," had pausedin his game, and discerning what he thought a hostile aspect in thisnaughty black old woman, rushed toward her and proceeded first to beather with his mimic jockey's whip, and then, suspecting that herbombazine was not sensitive, to set his teeth in her arm. While Dominicrebuked him and pulled him off, Nimrod began to bark anxiously, and thescene was become alarming even to the squirrels, which scrambled as faroff as possible.

  Esther, who had been waiting for an opportunity of intervention, nowcame up to Mrs. Holt to speak some soothing words; and old Mr. Transome,seeing a sufficient screen between himself and his formidable suppliant,at last gathered courage to turn round and shuffle away with unusualswiftness into the library.

  "Dear Mrs. Holt," said Esther, "do rest comforted. I assure you, youhave done the utmost that can be done by your words. Your visit has notbeen thrown away. See how the children have enjoyed it! I saw little Jobactually laughing. I think I never saw him do more than smile before."Then turning round to Dominic, she said, "Will the buggy come round tothis door?"

  This hint was sufficient. Dominic went to see if the vehicle was ready,and Denner, remarking that Mrs. Holt would like to mount it in the innercourt, invited her to go back into the housekeeper's room. But there wasa fresh resistance raised in Harry by the threatened departure of Job,who had seemed an invaluable addition to the menagerie of tamedcreatures; and it was barely in time that Esther had the relief ofseeing the entrance hall cleared so as to prevent any further encounterof Mrs. Holt with Harold, who was now coming up the flight of steps atthe entrance.