THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

GIFT OF



Dr. Blanche C. Brown



Storks of (Seorge 3Hot



MIDDLEMARCH

VOL. III.
ILLUSTRATED CABINET EDITION



Dorothea and Ladislaw.
Photo Etching. From Drawing by W. L. Taylor.



Illustrates Cabinet Edition



MIDDLEMARCH

A STUDY OF PROVINCIAL LIFE



BY

GEORGE ELIOT

IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. III.




BOSTON
DANA ESTKS & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS



College



CONTENTS.



BOOK PAGE

VI. THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE 1

VII. Two TEMPTATIONS 148

VIII. SUNSET AND SUNBISB . 279



7G2743



3List of Illustrations.

VOL. III.
DOROTHEA AND LADISLAW (p. 389) Frontispiece

1'ORTRAIT OF CELIA Page 20

DR. LYDGATK AND KOSAMOND 184

DOROTHEA SURPRISES LADISLAW AND ROSAMOND . . . 338



MIDDLEMAKCH.



BOOK VI.

THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE.



CHAPTER LIV.

Negli ocohi porta la mia donna Amore;

Per che si fa gentil cio ch'ella mira:

Ov'ella passa, ogni noni ver lei si girs,

E ciii sahitn fa treniar lo core.
Sicchc. bassando il viso, tutto sniore,

K (i'ugni sub difetto allor sospira:

Fuggon (linan/.i a lei Superbia ed Ira:

Aiutatemi, domic, a farle onore.
Ogni dolce/./.a, ogui pensiero uniile

Nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente ;

Ond', c hcato chi prinia la vide.
Quel ch'ella par qmuid' un puco sorride,

Xon si puo dicer, nc toner a mente,

Si fc nuuvo iniracolo gentile.

DAXTE La Vita Nuova.

V*\ that delightful morning when the hay-ricks at
Stone Court were scenting the air quite impar-
tially, as if Mr. Rattles had been a guest worthy
of finest incense, Dorothea had again taken up her
abode at Lowick Manor. After three months
Freshitt had become rather oppressive: to sit like
a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously
at Celia's baby would not do for many hours i

VCL. in. 1



2 MIDDLEMARCH.

the day, and to remain in that momentous babe's
presence with persistent disregard was a course
that could not have been tolerated in a childless
sister. Dorothea would have been capable of
carrying baby joyfully for a mile if there had been
need, and of loving it the more tenderly for that
labour; but to an aunt who does not recognize
her infant nephew as Bouddha, arid has nothing to
do for him but to admire, his behaviour is apt to
appear monotonous, and the interest of watching
him exhaustible.

This possibility was quite hidden from Celia,
who felt that Dorothea's childless widowhood fell
in quite prettily with the birth of little Arthur
(baby was named after Mr. Brooke).

" Dodo is just the creature not to mind about
having anything of her own children or any-
thing !" said Celia to her husband. " And if she
had had a baby, it never could have been such a
dear 'as Arthur. Could it, James ? "'

"Not if it had been like Casaubon," said Sir
James, conscious of some indirectness in his
answer, and of holding a strictly private opinion
as to the perfections of his first-born.

"No! just imagine! Really it was a mercy,"
said Celia; " and I think it is very nice for Dodo
to be a widow. She can be just as fond of our
baby as if it were her own, and she can have as
many notions of her own as she likes. "

" It is a pity she was not a queen, " said the
devout Sir James.

" But what should we have been then ? We
must have been something else, " said Celia, object-
ing to so laborious a flight of imagination. " I
like her better as she is. "



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. 3

Hence, when she found that Dorothea was
making arrangements for her final departure to
Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappoint^
ment, and in her quiet unernphatic way shot a
needle-arrow of sarcasm.

" What will you do at Lowick, Dodo? You say
yourself there is nothing to be done there : every-
body is so clean and well off, it makes you quite
melancholy. And here you have been so happy
going all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the
worst backyards. And now uncle is abroad, you
and Mr. Garth can have it all your own way ;
and I am sure James does everything you tell

him. "

" I shall often come here, and I shall see how
baby grows all the better, " said Dorothea.

"But you will never see him washed," said
Celia ; " and that is quite the best part of the day. "
She was almost pouting: it did seem to her very
hard in Dodo to go away from the baby when she
might stay.

" Dear Kitty, I will come and stay all night on
purpose," said Dorothea ; " but I want to be alone
now, and in my own home. I wish to know the
Farebrothers better, and to talk to Mr. Fare-
brother about what there is to be done in Middle-
march. "

Dorothea's native strength of will was no longer
all converted into i - esolute submission. She had a
great yearning to be at Lowick, and was simply
determined to go, not feeling bound to tell all her
reasons. But every one around her disapproved.
Sir James was much pained, and offered that they
should all migrate to Cheltenham fora few months
with the sacred ark, otherwise called a cradle: at



4 MIDDLEMARCH.

that period a man could hardly know what to pro-
pose if Cheltenham were rejected.

The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from
a visit to her daughter in town, wished, at least,
that Mrs. Vigo should be written to, and invited
to accept the office of companion to Mrs. Casaubon :
it was not credible that Dorothea as a young
widow would think of living alone in the house at
Lowick. Mrs. Vigo had been reader and secretary
to royal personages, and in point of knowledge and
sentiments even Dorothea could have nothing to
object to her.

Mrs. Cadwallader said, privately, " You will
certainly go mad in that house alone, my dear.
You will see visions. We have all got to exert
ourselves a little to keep sane, and call things by
the same names as other people call them by. To
be sure, for younger sons and women who have no
money, it is a sort of provision to go mad : they
are taken care of then. But you must not run
into that. I dare say you are a little bored here
with our good dowager ; but think what a bore you
might become yourself to your fellow-creatures if
you were always playing tragedy queen and taking
things sublimely. Sitting alone in that library
at Lowick you may fancy yourself ruling the
weather; you must get a few people round you
who would n't believe you if you told them. That
is a good lowering medicine. "

" I never called everything by the same name
that all the people about me did, " said Dorothea,
stoutly.

" But I suppose you have found out your mistake,
my dear, " said Mrs. Cadwallader, " and that is a
proof of sanity, "



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. 5

Dorothea was aware of the sting, but it did not
hurt her. " No," she said, " I still think that the
greater part of the world is mistaken about many
things. Surely one may be sane and yet think
so, since the greater part of the world has often
had to come round from its opinion. "

Mrs. Cadwallader said no more on that point to
Dorothea, but to her husband she remarked, " It
will be well for her to marry again as soon as it is
proper, if one could get her among the right
people. Of course the Cliettairs would not wish
it. But I see clearly a husband is the best thing
to keep her in order. If we were not so poor I
would invite Lord Triton. He will be marquis
some day, and there is no denying that she would
make a good marchioness : she looks handsomer
than ever in hei mourning. "

" My dear Elinor, do let the poor woman alone.
Such contrivances are of no use, " said the easy
Rector.

" No use ? How are matches made, except by
bringing men and women together? And it is a
shame that her uncle should have run away and
shut up the Grange just now. There ought to be
plenty of eligible matches invited to Fresh itt and
the Grange. Lord Triton is precisely the man :
full of plans for making the people happy in a
soft-headed sort of way. That would just suit
Mrs. Casaubon. "

" Let Mrs. Casaubon choose for herself, Elinor. "

" That is the nonsense you wise men talk ! How
can she choose if she has no variety to choose
from? A woman's choice usually means taking
the only man she can get. Mark my words, Hum-
phrey. If her friends don't exert themselves, there



6 MIDDLEMA11CH.

will be a worse business than the Casaubon busi-
ness yet. "

" For heaven's sake don't touch on that topic,
Elinor ! It is a very sore point with Sir James.
He would be deeply offended if you entered on it
to him unnecessarily. "

" I have never entered on it, " said Mrs. Cad-
wallader, opening hex hands. " Celia told me
all about the will at the beginning, without any
asking of mine. "

" Yes, yes ; but they want the thing hushed up,
and I understand that the young fellow is going
out of the neighbourhood. "

Mrs. Cadwallader said nothing, but gave her
husband three significant nods, with a very sar-
castic expression in her dark eyes.

Dorothea quietly persisted in spite of remon-
strance and persuasion. So by the end of June
the shutters were all opened at Lowick Manor, and
the morning gazed calmly into the library, shining
on the rows of note-books as it shines on the
weary waste planted with huge stones, the mute
memorial of a forgotten faith ; and the evening
laden with roses entered silently into the blue-
green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to
sit. At first she walked into every room, ques-
tioning the eighteen months of her married life,
and carrying on her thoughts as if they were a
speech to be heard by her husband. Then, she
lingered in the library and could not be at rest
till she had carefully ranged all the note-books as
she imagined that he would wish to see them, in
orderly sequence. The pity which had been the
restraining compelling motive in her life with him
still clung about his image, even while she remon-



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. 7

strated with him in indignant thought and told
him that he was unjust. One little act of hers
may perhaps be smiled at as superstitious. The
Synoptical Tabulation for the use of Mrs. Casaubon,
she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within
the envelope, " / could not use it. Do you not see
now that I could not submit my soul to yours, by
working hopelessly at what I have no belief in
Dorothea ? * Then she deposited the paper in her
own desk.

That silent colloquy was perhaps only the more
earnest because underneath and through it all
there was always the deep longing which had
really determined her to come to Lowick. The
longing was to see Will Ladislaw. She did not
know any good that could come of their meeting :
she was helpless ; her hands had been tied from
making up to him for any unfairness in his lot.
But her soul thirsted to see him. How could it
be otherwise ? If a princess in the days of
enchantment had seen a four-footed creature from
among those which live in- herds come to her once
and again with a human gaze which rested upon
her with choice and beseeching, what would she
think of in her journeying, what would she look
for when the herds passed her ? Surely for the
gaze which had found her, and which she would
know again. Life would be no better than candle-
light tinsel and daylight rubbish if our spirits
were not touched by what has been, to issues of
longing and constancy. It was true that Dorothea
wanted to know the Farebrothers better, and espe-
cially to talk to the new rector, but also true that
remembering what Lydgate had told her about
Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, she counted



8 MIDDLEMARCH.

on Will's coming to Lowick to see the Farebrother
family. The very first Sunday, before she entered
the church, she saw him as she had seen him the
last time she was there, alone in the clergyman's
pew ; but when she entered his figure was gone.

In the week-days when she went to see the
ladies at the Rectory, she listened in vain for some
word that they might let fall about Will ; but it
seemed to her that Mrs. Farebrother talked of
every one else in the neighbourhood and out of it.

" Probably some of Mr. Farebrother's Middle-
march hearers may follow him to Lowick some-
times. Do you not think so ? " said Dorothea,
rather despising herself for having a secret motive
in asking the question.

" If they are wise they will, Mrs. Casaubon, "
said the old lady. " I see that you set a right
value on my son's preaching. His grandfather on
my side was an excellent clergyman, but his father
was in the law : most exemplary and honest
nevertheless, which is a reason for our never being
rich. They say Fortune is a woman and capri-
cious. But sometimes she is a good woman and
gives to those who merit, which has been the case
with you, Mrs. Casaubon, who have given a living
to my son. "

Mrs. Farebrother recurred to her knitting with a
dignified satisfaction in her neat little effort at
oratory, but this was not what Dorothea wanted to
hear. Poor thing! she did not even know
whether Will Ladislaw was still at Middlernarch,
and there was no one whom she dared to ask,
unless it were Lydgate. But just now she could
not see Lydgate without sending for him or going
to seek him. Perhaps Will Ladislaw, having



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. *

heard cf that strange ban against him left by Mr.
Casaubon, had felt it better that he and she r.bould
not meet again, and perhaps she was wrong to wish
tor a meeting that others might find many good
reasons against. Still " I do wish it" came at tha
end of those wise reflections as naturally as a sob
after holding the breath. And the meeting did
happen, but in a formal way quite unexpected by
her.

One morning, aV>m-.f elgyen, Dorothea was seated
in her boudoir with a. map of the land attached
anfl n ^ pv papers before her, which



were tojielp her iu making an exaft statement-. f or
hprsp.LLof bc.r in Rome arid, affairs. Shp had nnt ypk
npplinri hnrnnlf tn Jwr^wnrk, hut, was seated \vith_
her hands folded on her lap. looking out along the
avenue of limes to the distant fields Rvp.ry Ipnf.
was_at rest in t.hp. sunshine, the familiar scene
was changeless, and seemed to represent the pros.-.
pect of herlife^ full of motiveless ease. motive-
less, if her own energy could not seekout reasons
for~ar5TTtvction. TJIB



niade an oval_fccamp frrr tbe-lacgj and_Jiad a crown

up; thn dr^fin wnfi nn Pi^prirnfut in .th,Q



made her face Jook all the younger^



with its recovered bloom, and the sweet, inquiring
candour of her eyes.

Ifer reverie was broken by Tantripp, who came
to say that Mr. Ladislaw was below, and begged
permission to see Madam if it were not too early.

" I will see him," said ^Dorothea, rising imme-
diately. " Let him be shown into the drawing
room. "

The drawing-room was the most neutral room



ro MIDDLEMARCH.

in the house to her, the one least associated with
the trials of her married life : the damask matched
the wood-work, which was all white and gold ;
there were two tall mirrors and tables with nothing
on them in brief, it was a room where you had
no reason for sitting in one place rather than in
another. It was below the boudoir, and had also
a bow-window looking out on the avenue. But
when Pratt showed Will Ladislaw into it the
window was open ; and a winged visitor, buzzing
in and out now and then without minding the
furniture, made the room look less formal and
uninhabited.

" Glad to see you here again, sir, " said Pratt,
lingering to adjust a blind.

" I am only come to say good-by, Pratt, " said
Will, who wished even the butler to know that
he was too proud to hang about Mrs. Casaubon
now she was a rich widow.

" Very sorry to hear it, sir," said Pratt, retiring.
Of course, as a servant who was to be told nothing,
he knew the fact of which Ladislaw was still
ignorant, and had drawn his inferences ; indeed,
had not differed from his betrothed Tantripp when
she said, " Your master was as jealous as a fiend
and no reason. Madam would look higher than
Mr. Ladislaw, else I don't know her. Mrs. Cad-
wallader's maid says there 's a lord coming who is
to marry her when the mourning 's over. "

There were not many moments for Will to walk
about with his hat in his hand before Dorothea
entered. The meeting was very different from
that first meeting in Rome when Will had been
embarrassed and Dorothea calm. This time he
felt miserable but determined, while she was in



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. IT

a state of agitation which could not be hidden.
Just outside the door she had felt that this longed-
for meeting was after all too difficult, and when
she saw Will advancing towards her, the deep
blush which was rare in her came with painful
suddenness. Neither of them knew how it was,
but neither of them spoke. She gave her hand for
a moment, and then they went to sit down near
the window, she on one settee and he on another
opposite. Will was peculiarly uneasy : it seemed
to him not like Dorothea that the mere fact of her
being a widow should cause such a change in her
manner of receiving him ; and he knew of no other
condition which could have affected their previous
relation to each other, 'except that, as his imagi-
nation at once told him, her friends might have
been poisoning her mind with their suspicions of
him.

" I hope I have not presumed too much in call-
ing, " said Will; "I could not bear to leave the
neighbourhood and begin a new life without seeing
you to say good-by. "

" Presumed ? Surely not. I should have
thought it unkind if you had not wished to see
me," said Dorothea, her habit of speaking with
perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her
uncertainty and agitation. " Are you going away
immediately ? "

" Very soon, I think. I intend to go to town
and eat my dinners as a barrister, since, they say,]
that is the preparation for all public business./
There will be a great deal of political work to be
done by-and-by, and I mean to try and do some of it.
Other men have managed to win an honourable posi
tion for themselves without family or money. "



12 MIDDLEMAHCH.

"And that will make it all the more- honour-
able, " said Dorothea, ardently. " Besides, you
have so many talents. I have heard from my
uncle how well you speak in public, so that every
one is sorry when you leave off, and how clearly
you can explain things. And you care that justice
should be done to every one. I am so glad.
When we were in Rome, I thought you only cared
for poetry and art, and the things that adorn life
for us who are well off. But now 1 know you think
about the rest of the world. "

While she was speaking Dorothea had lost her
personal embarrassment, and had become like her
former self. She looked at Will with a direct
glance, full of delighted confidence.

" You approve of my going away for years, then,
and never coming here again till I have made
myself of some mark in the world ? " said Will,
trying hard to reconcile the utmost pride with the
utmost effort to get an expression of strong feeling
from Dorothea.

She was not aware how long it was before she
answered. She had turned her head and was
looking out of the window on the rose-bushes,
which seemed to have in them the summers of all
the years when Will would be away. This was
not judicious behaviour. But Dorothea never
thought of studying her manners : she thought
only of bowing to a sad necessity which divided
her from Will. Those first words of his about his
intentions had seemed to make everything clear to
her : he knew, she supposed, all about Mr. Casau-
bon's final conduct in relation to him, and it had
come to him with the same sort of shock as to
herself. He had never felt more than friendship



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE 13

for her, had never had anything in his mind to
justify what she felt to be her husband's outrage
on the feelings of both ; and that friendship he
still felt. Something which may be called an
inward silent sob had gone on in Dorothea before
she said with a pure voice, just trembling in the
last words as if only from its liquid flexibility,

" Yes, it must be right for you to do as you say.
I shall be very happy when I hear that you have
made your value felt. But you must have patience.
It will perhaps be a long while."

Will never quite knew how it was that he saved
himself from falling down at her feet, when the
" long while " came forth with its gentle tremor.
He used to say that the horrible hue and surface
of her crape dress was most likely the sufficient
controlling force. He sat still, however, and only
said,

" 1 shall never hear from you. And you will
forget all about me."

" No," said Dorothea, " I shall never forget you.
I have never forgotten any one whom I once knew.
My life has never been crowded, and seems not
likely to be so. And I have a great deal of space
for memory at Lowick, have n't I ? " She smiled.

"Good God!" Will burst out passionately, ris-
ing, with his hat still in his hand, and walking
away to a marble table, where he suddenly turned
and leaned his back against it. The blood had
mounted to his face and neck, and he looked
almost angry. It had seemed to him as if they
were like two creatures slowly turning to marble
in each other's presence, while their hearts were
conscious and their eyes were yearning. But
there was no help for it. It should never be true



14 M1DDLEMARCH.

of him that in this meeting to which he had come
with bitter resolution he had ended by a confes-
sion Which might be interpreted into asking for her
fortune. Moreover, it was actually true that he
was fearful of the effect which such confessions
might have on Dorothea herself.

She looked at him from that distance in some
trouble, imagining that there might have been an
offence in her words. But all the while there was
a current of thought in her about his probable
want of money, and the impossibility of her help-
ing him. If her uncle had been at home, some-
thing might have been done through him. It was
this preoccupation with the hardship of Will's
wanting money, while she had what ought to have
been his share, which led her to say, seeing that
he remained silent and looked away from her,

" I wonder whether you would like to have that
miniature which hangs upstairs I mean that
beautiful miniature of your grandmother. I think
it is not right for me to keep it, if you would wish
to have it. It is wonderfully like you. "

" You are very good, " said Will, irritably. " No ;
I don't mind about it. It is not very consoling to
have one's own likeness. It would be more con-
soling if others wanted to have it. "

" I thought you would like to cherish her mem-
ory I thought " Dorothea broke off an
instant, her imagination suddenly warning her
away from Aunt Julia's history " you would
surely like to have the miniature as a family
memorial. "

" Why should I have that, when I have nothing
else ! A man with only a portmanteau for his
stowage must keep his memorials in his head. "



THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE. 15

Will spoke at random : he was merely venting
his petulance; it was a little too exasperating to
have his grandmother's portrait ottered him at that
moment. But to Dorothea's feeling his words had
a peculiar sting. She rose and -said with a touch
of indignation as well as hauteur

" You are much the happier of us two, Mr.
Ladislaw, to have nothing. "

Will was startled. Whatever the words might
he, the tone seemed like a dismissal; and quitting
his leaning posture, he walked a little way towards
her. Their eyes met, but with a strange question-
ing gravity. Something was keeping their minds
aloof, and each was left to conjecture what was
in the other. Will had really never thought of
himself as having a claim of inheritance on the
property which was held by Dorothea, and would
have required a narrative to make him understand
her present feeling.

" I never felt it a misfortune to have nothing
till now, " he said. " But poverty may be as had
as leprosy, if it divides us. from what we most care
for. "

The words cut Dorothea to the heart, and made
her relent. She answered in a tone of sad
fellowship.

" Sorrow comes in so many ways. Two years
ago I had no notion of that 1 mean of the unex-
pected way in which trouble comes, and ties our
hands, and makes us silent when we long to speak.
I used to despise women a little for not shaping
their lives more, and doing better things. I was
very fond of doing as I liked, but I have almost
given it up," she ended, smiling playfully.

" I have not given up doing as I like, but I can



16 MIDDLEMARCH.

very seldom do it," said Will. He was standing
two yards from her with his mind full of contra-
dictory desires and resolves, desiring some unmis-
takable proof that she loved him, and yet dreading