The Mill on the Floss

by George Eliot

  Chapter IV

  Brother and Sister

  Maggie was obliged to go to Tom's lodgings in the middle of the day,when he would be coming in to dinner, else she would not have foundhim at home. He was not lodging with entire strangers. Our friend BobJakin had, with Mumps's tacit consent, taken not only a wife abouteight months ago, but also one of those queer old houses, pierced withsurprising passages, by the water-side, where, as he observed, hiswife and mother could keep themselves out of mischief by letting outtwo "pleasure-boats," in which he had invested some of his savings,and by taking in a lodger for the parlor and spare bedroom. Underthese circumstances, what could be better for the interests of allparties, sanitary considerations apart, than that the lodger should beMr. Tom?

  It was Bob's wife who opened the door to Maggie. She was a tiny woman,with the general physiognomy of a Dutch doll, looking, in comparisonwith Bob's mother, who filled up the passage in the rear, very muchlike one of those human figures which the artist finds convenientlystanding near a colossal statue to show the proportions. The tinywoman curtsied and looked up at Maggie with some awe as soon as shehad opened the door; but the words, "Is my brother at home?" whichMaggie uttered smilingly, made her turn round with sudden excitement,and say,--

  "Eh, mother, mother--tell Bob!--it's Miss Maggie! Come in, Miss, forgoodness do," she went on, opening a side door, and endeavoring toflatten her person against the wall to make the utmost space for thevisitor.

  Sad recollections crowded on Maggie as she entered the small parlor,which was now all that poor Tom had to call by the name of"home,"--that name which had once, so many years ago, meant for bothof them the same sum of dear familiar objects. But everything was notstrange to her in this new room; the first thing her eyes dwelt on wasthe large old Bible, and the sight was not likely to disperse the oldmemories. She stood without speaking.

  "If you please to take the privilege o' sitting down, Miss," said Mrs.Jakin, rubbing her apron over a perfectly clean chair, and thenlifting up the corner of that garment and holding it to her face withan air of embarrassment, as she looked wonderingly at Maggie.

  "Bob is at home, then?" said Maggie, recovering herself, and smilingat the bashful Dutch doll.

  "Yes, Miss; but I think he must be washing and dressing himself; I'llgo and see," said Mrs. Jakin, disappearing.

  But she presently came back walking with new courage a little waybehind her husband, who showed the brilliancy of his blue eyes andregular white teeth in the doorway, bowing respectfully.

  "How do you do, Bob?" said Maggie, coming forward and putting out herhand to him; "I always meant to pay your wife a visit, and I shallcome another day on purpose for that, if she will let me. But I wasobliged to come to-day to speak to my brother."

  "He'll be in before long, Miss. He's doin' finely, Mr. Tom is; he'llbe one o' the first men hereabouts,--you'll see that."

  "Well, Bob, I'm sure he'll be indebted to you, whatever he becomes; hesaid so himself only the other night, when he was talking of you."

  "Eh, Miss, that's his way o' takin' it. But I think the more on't whenhe says a thing, because his tongue doesn't overshoot him as minedoes. Lors! I'm no better nor a tilted bottle, I ar'n't,--I can't stopmysen when once I begin. But you look rarely, Miss; it does me good tosee you. What do you say now, Prissy?"--here Bob turned to hiswife,--"Isn't it all come true as I said? Though there isn't manysorts o' goods as I can't over-praise when I set my tongue to't."

  Mrs. Bob's small nose seemed to be following the example of her eyesin turning up reverentially toward Maggie, but she was able now tosmile and curtsey, and say, "I'd looked forrard like aenything toseein' you, Miss, for my husband's tongue's been runnin' on you, likeas if he was light-headed, iver since first he come a-courtin' on me."

  "Well, well," said Bob, looking rather silly. "Go an' see after thetaters, else Mr. Tom 'ull have to wait for 'em."

  "I hope Mumps is friendly with Mrs. Jakin, Bob," said Maggie, smiling."I remember you used to say he wouldn't like your marrying."

  "Eh, Miss," said Bob, "he made up his mind to't when he see'd what alittle un she was. He pretends not to see her mostly, or else to thinkas she isn't full-growed. But about Mr. Tom, Miss," said Bob, speakinglower and looking serious, "he's as close as a iron biler, he is; butI'm a 'cutish chap, an' when I've left off carrying my pack, an' am ata loose end, I've got more brains nor I know what to do wi', an' I'mforced to busy myself wi' other folks's insides. An' it worrets me asMr. Tom'll sit by himself so glumpish, a-knittin' his brow, an'a-lookin' at the fire of a night. He should be a bit livelier now, afine young fellow like him. My wife says, when she goes in sometimes,an' he takes no notice of her, he sits lookin' into the fire, andfrownin' as if he was watchin' folks at work in it."

  "He thinks so much about business," said Maggie.

  "Ay," said Bob, speaking lower; "but do you think it's nothin' else,Miss? He's close, Mr. Tom is; but I'm a 'cute chap, I am, an' Ithought tow'rt last Christmas as I'd found out a soft place in him. Itwas about a little black spaniel--a rare bit o' breed--as he made afuss to get. But since then summat's come over him, as he's set histeeth again' things more nor iver, for all he's had such good luck.An' I wanted to tell _you_, Miss, 'cause I thought you might work itout of him a bit, now you're come. He's a deal too lonely, and doesn'tgo into company enough."

  "I'm afraid I have very little power over him, Bob," said Maggie, agood deal moved by Bob's suggestion. It was a totally new idea to hermind that Tom could have his love troubles. Poor fellow!--and in lovewith Lucy too! But it was perhaps a mere fancy of Bob's too officiousbrain. The present of the dog meant nothing more than cousinship andgratitude. But Bob had already said, "Here's Mr. Tom," and the outerdoor was opening.

  "There is no time to spare, Tom," said Maggie, as soon as Bob left theroom. "I must tell you at once what I came about, else I shall behindering you from taking your dinner."

  Tom stood with his back against the chimney-piece, and Maggie wasseated opposite the light. He noticed that she was tremulous, and hehad a presentiment of the subject she was going to speak about. Thepresentiment made his voice colder and harder as he said, "What isit?"

  This tone roused a spirit of resistance in Maggie, and she put herrequest in quite a different form from the one she had predeterminedon. She rose from her seat, and looking straight at Tom, said,--

  "I want you to absolve me from my promise about Philip Wakem. Orrather, I promised you not to see him without telling you. I am cometo tell you that I wish to see him."

  "Very well," said Tom, still more coldly.

  But Maggie had hardly finished speaking in that chill, defiant manner,before she repented, and felt the dread of alienation from herbrother.

  "Not for myself, dear Tom. Don't be angry. I shouldn't have asked it,only that Philip, you know, is a friend of Lucy's and she wishes himto come, has invited him to come this evening; and I told her Icouldn't see him without telling you. I shall only see him in thepresence of other people. There will never be anything secret betweenus again."

  Tom looked away from Maggie, knitting his brow more strongly for alittle while. Then he turned to her and said, slowly andemphatically,--

  "You know what is my feeling on that subject, Maggie. There is no needfor my repeating anything I said a year ago. While my father wasliving, I felt bound to use the utmost power over you, to prevent youfrom disgracing him as well as yourself, and all of us. But now I mustleave you to your own choice. You wish to be independent; you told meso after my father's death. My opinion is not changed. If you think ofPhilip Wakem as a lover again, you must give up me."

  "I don't wish it, dear Tom, at least as things are; I see that itwould lead to misery. But I shall soon go away to another situation,and I should like to be friends with him again while I am here. Lucywishes it."

  The severity of Tom's face relaxed a little.

  "I shouldn't mind your seeing him occasionally at my uncle's--I don'twant you to make a fuss on the subject. But I have
no confidence inyou, Maggie. You would be led away to do anything."

  That was a cruel word. Maggie's lip began to tremble.

  "Why will you say that, Tom? It is very hard of you. Have I not doneand borne everything as well as I could? And I kept my word toyou--when--when----My life has not been a happy one, any more thanyours."

  She was obliged to be childish; the tears would come. When Maggie wasnot angry, she was as dependent on kind or cold words as a daisy onthe sunshine or the cloud; the need of being loved would always subdueher, as, in old days, it subdued her in the worm-eaten attic. Thebrother's goodness came uppermost at this appeal, but it could onlyshow itself in Tom's fashion. He put his hand gently on her arm, andsaid, in the tone of a kind pedagogue,--

  "Now listen to me, Maggie. I'll tell you what I mean. You're always inextremes; you have no judgment and self-command; and yet you think youknow best, and will not submit to be guided. You know I didn't wishyou to take a situation. My aunt Pullet was willing to give you a goodhome, and you might have lived respectably amongst your relations,until I could have provided a home for you with my mother. And that iswhat I should like to do. I wished my sister to be a lady, and Ialways have taken care of you, as my father desired, until you werewell married. But your ideas and mine never accord, and you will notgive way. Yet you might have sense enough to see that a brother, whogoes out into the world and mixes with men, necessarily knows betterwhat is right and respectable for his sister than she can knowherself. You think I am not kind; but my kindness can only be directedby what I believe to be good for you."

  "Yes, I know, dear Tom," said Maggie, still half-sobbing, but tryingto control her tears. "I know you would do a great deal for me; I knowhow you work, and don't spare yourself. I am grateful to you. But,indeed, you can't quite judge for me; our natures are very different.You don't know how differently things affect me from what they doyou."

  "Yes, I _do_ know; I know it too well. I know how differently you mustfeel about all that affects our family, and your own dignity as ayoung woman, before you could think of receiving secret addresses fromPhilip Wakem. If it was not disgusting to me in every other way, Ishould object to my sister's name being associated for a moment withthat of a young man whose father must hate the very thought of us all,and would spurn you. With any one but you, I should think it quitecertain that what you witnessed just before my father's death wouldsecure you from ever thinking again of Philip Wakem as a lover. But Idon't feel certain of it with you; I never feel certain about anythingwith _you_. At one time you take pleasure in a sort of perverseself-denial, and at another you have not resolution to resist a thingthat you know to be wrong."

  There was a terrible cutting truth in Tom's words,--that hard rind oftruth which is discerned by unimaginative, unsympathetic minds. Maggiealways writhed under this judgment of Tom's; she rebelled and washumiliated in the same moment; it seemed as if he held a glass beforeher to show her her own folly and weakness, as if he were a propheticvoice predicting her future fallings; and yet, all the while, shejudged him in return; she said inwardly that he was narrow and unjust,that he was below feeling those mental needs which were often thesource of the wrong-doing or absurdity that made her life a planlessriddle to him.

  She did not answer directly; her heart was too full, and she sat down,leaning her arm on the table. It was no use trying to make Tom feelthat she was near to him. He always repelled her. Her feeling underhis words was complicated by the allusion to the last scene betweenher father and Wakem; and at length that painful, solemn memorysurmounted the immediate grievance. No! She did not think of suchthings with frivolous indifference, and Tom must not accuse her ofthat. She looked up at him with a grave, earnest gaze and said,--

  "I can't make you think better of me, Tom, by anything I can say. ButI am not so shut out from all your feelings as you believe me to be. Isee as well as you do that from our position with regard to Philip'sfather--not on other grounds--it would be unreasonable, it would bewrong, for us to entertain the idea of marriage; and I have given upthinking of him as a lover. I am telling you the truth, and you haveno right to disbelieve me; I have kept my word to you, and you havenever detected me in a falsehood. I should not only not encourage, Ishould carefully avoid, any intercourse with Philip on any otherfooting than of quiet friendship. You may think that I am unable tokeep my resolutions; but at least you ought not to treat me with hardcontempt on the ground of faults that I have not committed yet."

  "Well, Maggie," said Tom, softening under this appeal, "I don't wantto overstrain matters. I think, all things considered, it will be bestfor you to see Philip Wakem, if Lucy wishes him to come to the house.I believe what you say,--at least you believe it yourself, I know; Ican only warn you. I wish to be as good a brother to you as you willlet me."

  There was a little tremor in Tom's voice as he uttered the last words,and Maggie's ready affection came back with as sudden a glow as whenthey were children, and bit their cake together as a sacrament ofconciliation. She rose and laid her hand on Tom's shoulder.

  "Dear Tom, I know you mean to be good. I know you have had a greatdeal to bear, and have done a great deal. I should like to be acomfort to you, not to vex you. You don't think I'm altogethernaughty, now, do you?"

  Tom smiled at the eager face; his smiles were very pleasant to seewhen they did come, for the gray eyes could be tender underneath thefrown.

  "No, Maggie."

  "I may turn out better than you expect."

  "I hope you will."

  "And may I come some day and make tea for you, and see this extremelysmall wife of Bob's again?"

  "Yes; but trot away now, for I've no more time to spare," said Tom,looking at his watch.

  "Not to give me a kiss?"

  Tom bent to kiss her cheek, and then said,--

  "There! Be a good girl. I've got a great deal to think of to-day. I'mgoing to have a long consultation with my uncle Deane this afternoon."

  "You'll come to aunt Glegg's to-morrow? We're going all to dine early,that we may go there to tea. You _must_ come; Lucy told me to say so."

  "Oh, pooh! I've plenty else to do," said Tom, pulling his bellviolently, and bringing down the small bell-rope.

  "I'm frightened; I shall run away," said Maggie, making a laughingretreat; while Tom, with masculine philosophy, flung the bell-rope tothe farther end of the room; not very far either,--a touch of humanexperience which I flatter myself will come home to the bosoms of nota few substantial or distinguished men who were once at an early stageof their rise in the world, and were cherishing very large hopes invery small lodgings.