by George Eliot
CHAPTER XLVII.
The devil tempts us not--'tis we tempt him, Beckoning his skill with opportunity.
The more permanent effect of Esther's action in the trial was visible ina meeting which took place the next day in the principal room of theWhite Hart of Loamford. To the magistrates and other county gentlemenwho were drawn together about noon, some of the necessary impulse mighthave been lacking but for that stirring of heart in certainjust-spirited men and good fathers among them, which had been raised toa high pitch of emotion by Esther's maidenly fervor. Among these one ofthe foremost was Sir Maximus Debarry, who had come to the assizes with amind, as usual, slightly rebellious under an influence which he neverultimately resisted--the influence of his son. Philip Debarry himselfwas detained in London, but in his correspondence with his father he hadurged him, as well as his uncle Augustus, to keep eyes and interestawake on the subject of Felix Holt, whom, from all the knowledge of thecase he had been able to obtain, he was inclined to believe peculiarlyunfortunate rather than guilty. Philip had said he was the more anxiousthat his family should intervene benevolently in this affair, if it werepossible, because he understood that Mr. Lyon took the young man's caseparticularly to heart, and he should always regard himself as obliged tothe old preacher. At this superfineness of consideration Sir Maximus hadvented a few "pshaws!" and, in relation to the whole affair, hadgrumbled that Phil was always setting him to do he didn't knowwhat--always seeming to turn nothing into something by dint of wordswhich hadn't so much substance as a mote behind them. Nevertheless hewas coerced; and in reality he was willing to do anything fair orgood-natured which had a handle that his understanding could lay holdof. His brother, the rector, desired to be rigorously just; but he hadcome to Loamford with a severe opinion concerning Felix, thinking thatsome sharp punishment might be a wholesome check on the career of ayoung man disposed to rely too much on his own crude devices.
Before the trial commenced, Sir Maximus had naturally been one of thosewho had observed Esther with curiosity, owing to the report of herinheritance, and her probable marriage to his once welcome but nowexasperating neighbor, Harold Transome; and he had made the emphaticcomment--"A fine girl! something thoroughbred in the look of her. Toogood for a Radical; that's all I have to say." But during the trial SirMaximus was wrought into a state of sympathetic ardor that needed nofanning. As soon as he could take his brother by the buttonhole, hesaid--
"I tell you what, Gus! we must exert ourselves to get a pardon for thisyoung fellow. Confound it! what's the use of mewing him up for fouryears? Example? Nonsense. Will there be a man knocked down the less forit? That girl made me cry. Depend upon it, whether she's going to marryTransome or not, she's been fond of Holt--in her poverty, you know.She's a modest, brave, beautiful woman. I'd ride a steeple-chase, old asI am, to gratify her feelings. Hang it! the fellow's a good fellow ifshe thinks so. And he threw out a fine sneer, I thought, at the Radicalcandidate. Depend upon it, he's a good fellow at bottom."
The rector had not exactly the same kind of ardor, nor was he open tooprecisely that process of proof which appeared to have convinced SirMaximus; but he had been so far influenced as to be inclined to unite inan effort on the side of mercy, observing also that he "knew Phil wouldbe on that side." And by the co-operation of similar movements in theminds of other men whose names were of weight, a meeting had beendetermined on to consult about getting up a memorial to the HomeSecretary on behalf of Felix Holt. His case had never had the sort ofsignificance that could rouse political partisanship; and such interestas was now felt in him was still more unmixed with that inducement. Thegentlemen who gathered in the room at the White Hart were--not as thelarge imagination of the _North_ _Loamshire Herald_ suggested, "of allshades of political opinion," but--of as many shades as were to be foundamong the gentlemen of that county.
Harold Transome had been energetically active in bringing about thismeeting. Over and above the stings of conscience and a determination toact up to the level of all recognized honorableness, he had the powerfulmotive of desiring to do what would satisfy Esther. His graduallyheightened perception that she had a strong feeling toward Felix Holthad not made him uneasy. Harold had a conviction that might have seemedlike fatuity if it had not been that he saw the effect he produced onEsther by the light of his opinions about women in general. Theconviction was, that Felix Holt could not be his rival in any formidablesense. Esther's admiration for this eccentric young man was, he thought,a moral enthusiasm, a romantic fervor, which was one among those manyattractions quite novel in his own experience; her distress about thetrouble of one who had been a familiar object in her former home, was nomore than naturally followed from a tender woman's compassion. The placeyoung Holt had held in her regard had necessarily changed its relationsnow that her lot was so widely changed. It is undeniable, that what mostconduced to the quieting nature of Harold's conclusions was theinfluence on his imagination of the more or less detailed reasons thatFelix Holt was a watchmaker, that his home and dress were of a certainquality, that his person and manners--that, in short (for Harold, likethe rest of us, had many impressions which saved him the trouble ofdistinct ideas), Felix Holt was not the sort of a man a woman would bein love with when she was wooed by Harold Transome.
Thus, he was sufficiently at rest on this point not to be exercising anypainful self-conquest in acting as the zealous advocate of Felix Holt'scause with all persons worth influencing; but it was by no directintercourse between him and Sir Maximus that they found themselves inco-operation, for the old baronet would not recognize Harold by morethan the faintest bow, and Harold was not a man to expose himself to arebuff. Whatever he in his inmost soul regarded as nothing more than anarrow prejudice, he could defy, not with airs of importance, but witheasy indifference. He could bear most things good-humoredly where hefelt that he had the superiority. The object of the meeting wasdiscussed, and the memorial agreed upon without any clashing. Mr.Lingon was gone home, but it was expected that his concurrence andsignature would be given, as well as those of other gentlemen who wereabsent. The business gradually reached that stage at which theconcentration of interest ceases--when the attention of all but a fewwho are more practically concerned drops off and disperses itself inprivate chat, and there is no longer any particular reason why everybodystays except that everybody is there. The room was rather a long one,and invited to a little movement; one gentleman drew another aside tospeak in an undertone about Scotch bullocks; another had something tosay about the North Loamshire hunt to a friend who was the reverse ofgood-looking, but who, nevertheless, while listening, showed hisstrength of mind by giving a severe attention also to his full-lengthreflection in the handsome tall mirror that filled the space between twowindows. And in this way the groups were continually shifting.
But in the meantime there were moving toward this room at the White Hartthe footsteps of a person whose presence had not been invited, and who,very far from being drawn thither by the belief that he would bewelcome, knew well that his entrance would, to one person at least, bebitterly disagreeable. They were the footsteps of Mr. Jermyn, whoseappearance that morning was not less comely and less carefully tendedthan usual, but who was suffering the torment of a compressed rage,which, if not impotent to inflict pain on another, was impotent to avertevil from himself. After his interview with Mrs. Transome there had beenfor some reasons a delay of positive procedures against him by Harold,of which delay Jermyn had twice availed himself; first, to seek aninterview with Harold, and then to send him a letter. The interview hadbeen refused; and the letter had been returned, with the statement thatno communication could take place except through Harold's lawyers. Andyesterday Johnson had brought Jermyn the information that he wouldquickly hear of the proceedings in Chancery being resumed: the watchJohnson kept in town had given him secure knowledge on this head. Adoomed animal, with every issue earthed up except that where its enemystands, must, if it has teeth and fierceness, try its one chance withoutdelay. And a man may reach
a point in his life in which his impulses arenot distinguished from those of a hunted brute by any capability ofscruples. Our selfishness is so robust and many-clutching, that, wellencouraged, it easily devours all sustenance away from our poor littlescruples.
Since Harold would not give Jermyn access to him, that vigorous attorneywas resolved to take it. He knew all about the meeting at the WhiteHart, and he was going thither with the determination of accostingHarold. He thought he knew what he should say, and the tone in which heshould say it. It would be a vague intimation, carrying the effect of athreat, which should compel Harold to give him a private interview. Toany counter-consideration that presented itself in his mind--to anythingthat an imagined voice might say--the imagined answer arose, "That's allvery fine, but I'm not going to be ruined if I can help it--least ofall, ruined in that way." Shall we call it degeneration or gradualdevelopment--this effect of thirty additional winters on thesoft-glancing, versifying young Jermyn?
When Jermyn entered the room at the White Hart he did not immediatelysee Harold. The door was at the extremity of the room, and the view wasobstructed by groups of gentlemen with figures broadened by overcoats.His entrance excited no particular observation: several persons had comein late. Only one or two, who knew Jermyn well, were not too muchpreoccupied to have a glancing remembrance of what had been chattedabout freely the day before--Harold's irritated reply about his agent,from the witness box. Receiving and giving a slight nod here and there,Jermyn pushed his way, looking round keenly, until he saw Haroldstanding near the other end of the room. The solicitor who had acted forFelix was just then speaking to him, but having put a paper into hishand turned away; and Harold, standing isolated, though at no greatdistance from others, bent his eyes on the paper. He looked brilliantthat morning; his blood was flowing prosperously. He had come in after aride, and was additionally brightened by rapid talk and the excitementof seeking to impress himself favorably, or at least powerfully, on theminds of neighbors nearer or more remote. He had just that amount offlush which indicates that life is more enjoyable than usual; and as hestood with his left hand caressing his whisker, and his right holdingthe paper and his riding-whip, his dark eyes running rapidly along thewritten lines, and his lips reposing in a curve of good-humor which hadmore happiness in it than a smile, all beholders might have seen thathis mind was at ease.
Jermyn walked quickly and quietly close up to him. The two men were ofthe same height, and before Harold looked round Jermyn's voice wassaying, close to his ear, not in a whisper, but in a hard, incisive,disrespectful and yet not loud tone--
"Mr. Transome, I must speak to you in private."
The sound jarred through Harold with a sensation all the moreinsufferable because of the revulsion from the satisfied, almost elated,state in which it had seized him. He started and looked round intoJermyn's eyes. For an instant, which seemed long, there was no soundbetween them, but only angry hatred gathering in the two faces. Haroldfelt himself going to crush this insolence: Jermyn felt that he hadwords within him that were fangs to clutch this obstinate strength, andwring forth the blood and compel submission. And Jermyn's impulse wasthe more urgent. He said, in a tone that was rather lower, but yetharder and more biting--
"You will repent else--for your mother's sake."
At that sound, quick as a leaping flame, Harold had struck Jermyn acrossthe face with his whip. The brim of the hat had been a defense. Jermyn,a powerful man, had instantly thrust out his hand and clutched Haroldhard by the clothes just below the throat, pushing him slightly so as tomake him stagger.
By this time everybody's attention had been called to this end of theroom, but both Jermyn and Harold were beyond being arrested by anyconsciousness of spectators.
"Let me go, you scoundrel!" said Harold, fiercely, "or I'll be the deathof you."
"Do," said Jermyn, in a grating voice; "_I am your father_."
In the thrust by which Harold had been made to stagger backward alittle, the two men had got very near the long mirror. They were bothwhite; both had anger and hatred in their faces; the hands of both wereupraised. As Harold heard the last terrible words he started at aleaping throb that went through him, and in the start turned his eyesaway from Jermyn's face. He turned them on the same face in the glasswith his own beside it, and saw the hated fatherhood reasserted.
The strong man reeled with a sick faintness. But in the same momentJermyn released his hold, and Harold felt himself supported by the arm.It was Sir Maximus Debarry who had taken hold of him.
"Leave the room, sir!" the baronet said to Jermyn, in a voice ofimperious scorn. "This is a meeting of gentlemen."
"Come, Harold," he said, in the old friendly voice, "come away withme."