flill *-' rss i«*-Av^ FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Felix Holt and Esther Lyon in the Kitchen. Photo-etching. — From Drawing by Frank T. Merrill. FELIX HOLT THE RAD I C AL VOLUME I. By George Eliot & o n to o n THE HAWARDEN PRESS MDCCCXCIX y o "- o )S23 Edition de Luxe THE HAWARDEN PRESS This edition is limited to Five Hundred numbered copies, of which this is No 6.....Q. t i • i • • < * 1 • « • •.♦••• • . :* , c- A\ >.\ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Vol. I. Page Felix Holt and Esther Lyon in the Kitchen . • Frontispiece Mr. Lyon and Mrs. Holt 75 Mr. Lyon finding the Strange Woman and Child .... 112 Mr. Lyon and Christian 225 Esther and Mr. Lyon 269 Felix Holt and Job Trudge 308 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. INTRODUCTION. Five-and-thikty years ago the glory had not yet departed from the old coach-roads ; the great road- side inns were still brilliant with well-polished tankards, the smiling glances of pretty barmaids, and the repartees of jocose ostlers ; the mail still announced itself by the merry notes of the horn ; the hedge-cutter or the rick-thatcher might still know the exact hour by the unfailing yet otherwise meteoric apparition of the pea-green Tally-ho or the yellow Independent ; and elderly gentlemen in pony chaises, quartering nervously to make way for the rolling, swinging swiftness, had not ceased to re- mark that times were finely changed since they used to see the pack-horses and hear the tinkling of their bells on this very highway. In those days there were pocket boroughs, a Bir- mingham unrepresented in Parliament and com- pelled to make strong representations out of it, unrepealed corn-laws, three-and-sixpenny letters, a brawny and many-breeding pauperism, and other departed evils ; but there were some pleasant things, too, which have also departed. Non omnia gran- olio?* cetas quce fugiamus habet, says the wise god- 4 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. dess : you have not the best of it in all things, youngsters ! the elderly man has his enviable memories ; and not the least of them is the memory of a long journey in mid-spring or autumn on the outside of a stage-coach. Posterity may be shot, like a bullet through a tube, by atmospheric pres- sure from Winchester to Newcastle, — that is a fine result to have among our hopes ; but the slow old- fashioned way of getting from one end of our coun- try to the other is the better thing to have in the memory. The tube-journey can never lend much to picture and narrative ; it is as barren as an ex- clamatory Oh ! Whereas the happy outside pas- senger seated on the box from the dawn to the gloaming gathered enough stories of English life, enough of English labours in town and country, enough aspects of earth and sky, to make episodes for a modern Odyssey. Suppose only that his jour- ney took him through that central plain, watered at one extremity 'by the Avon, at the other by the Trent. As the morning silvered the meadows with their long lines of bushy willows marking the watercourses, or burnished the golden corn-ricks clustered near the long roofs of some midland homestead, he saw the full-uddered cows driven from their pasture to the early milking. Perhaps it was the shepherd, head-servant of the farm, who i ! i < >ve them, his sheep-dog following with a heedless, unofficial air as of a beadle in undress. The shep- herd with a slow and slouching walk, timed by the walk of grazing beasts, moved aside, as if unwill- ingly, throwing out a monosyllabic hint to his cattle ; his glance, accustomed to rest on things very near the earth, seemed to lift itself with difficulty to the coachman. Mail or stage coach for him be- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 5 longed to that mysterious distant system of things called " Gover'ment," which, whatever it might be, was no business of his, any more than the most outlying nebula or the coal-sacks of the southern hemisphere ; his solar system was the parish ; the master's temper and the casualties of lambing-time were his region of storms. He cut his bread and bacon with his pocket-knife, and felt no bitterness except in the matter of pauper labourers and the bad luck that sent contrarious seasons and the sheep-rot. He and his cows were soon left behind, and the homestead too, with its pond overhung by elder-trees, its untidy kitchen-garden, and cone- shaped yew-tree arbour. But everywhere the bushy hedgerows wasted the land with their straggling beauty, shrouded the grassy borders of the pastures with catkined hazels, and tossed their long black- berry branches on the cornfields. Perhaps they were white with May, or starred with pale pink dog-roses ; perhaps the urchins were already nutting amongst them, or gathering the plenteous crabs. It was worth the journey only to see those hedgerows, the liberal homes of unmarketable beauty, — of the purple-blossomed ruby-berried nightshade, of the wild convolvulus climbing and spreading in ten- drilled strength till it made a great curtain of pale- green hearts and white trumpets, of the many-tubed honeysuckle which in its most delicate fragrance hid a charm more subtle and penetrating than beauty. Even if it were winter, the hedgerows showed their coral, the scarlet haws, the deep-crim- son hips, with lingering brown leaves to make a resting-place for the jewels of the hoar-frost. Such hedgerows were often as tall as the labourers' cot- tages dotted along the lanes, or clustered into a 6 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. small hamlet, their little dingy windows telling, like thick-filmed eyes, of nothing but the darkness within. The passenger on the coach-box, bowled along above such a hamlet, saw chiefly the roofs of it ; probably turned its back on the road, and seemed to lie away from everything but its own patch of earth and sky, away from the parish church by long fields and green lanes, away from all intercourse except that of tramps. If its face could be seen, it was most likely dirty ; but the dirt was Protestant dirt, and the big, bold, gin-breathing tramps were Protestant tramps. There was no sign of superstition near, no crucifix or image to indicate a misguided reverence ; the inhabitants were prob- ably so free from superstition that they were in much less awe of the parson than of the overseer. Yet they were saved from the excesses of Protestan- tism by not knowing how to read, and by the absence of handlooms and mines to be the pioneers of Dissent ; they were kept safely in the via media of indifference, and could have registered themselves in the census by a big black mark as members of the Church of England. But there were trim, cheerful villages too, with a neat or handsome parsonage and gray church set in the midst ; there was the pleasant tinkle of the blacksmith's anvil, the patient cart-horses waiting at his door ; the basket-maker peeling his willow wands in the sunshine ; the wheelwright putting the last touch to a blue cart with red wheels ; here and there a cottage with bright, transparent win- dows showing pots full of blooming balsams or geraniums, and little gardens in front all double daisies or dark wallflowers ; at the well, clean and comely women carrying yoked buckets, and towards PELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. .7 the free school small Britons dawdling on, and handling their marbles in the pockets of unpatched corduroys adorned with brass buttons. The land around was rich and marly, great corn-stalks stood in the rickyards, — for the rick-burners had not found their way hither ; the homesteads were those of rich farmers who paid no rent, or had the rare advantage of a lease, and could afford to keep their corn till prices had risen. The coach would be sure to overtake some of them on their way to their out- lying fields or to the market-town, sitting heavily on their well-groomed horses, or weighing down one side of an olive-green gig. They probably thought of the coach with some contempt, as an accommo- dation for people who had not their own gigs, or who, wanting to travel to London and such distant places, belonged to the trading and less solid part of the nation. The passenger on the box could see that this was the district of protuberant optimists, sure that Old England was the best of all possible countries, and that if there were any facts which had not fallen under their own observation, they were facts not worth observing, — the district of clean little market-towns without manufactures, of fat livings, an aristocratic clergy, and low poor-rates. But as the day wore on, the scene would change ; the land would begin to be blackened with coal- pits, the rattle of handlooms to be heard in hamlets and villages. Here were powerful men, walking queerly with knees bent outward from squatting in the mine, going home to throw themselves down in their blackened flannel and sleep through the daylight, then rise and spend much of their high wages at the alehouse with their fellows of the Benefit Club ; here the pale, eager faces of hand- 8 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. loom-weavers, men and women, haggard from sit- ting up late at night to finish the week's work, hardly begun till the Wednesday. Everywhere the cottages and the small children were dirty, for the languid mothers gave their strength to the loom, — pious Dissenting women, perhaps, who took life patiently, and thought that salvation depended chiefly on predestination, and not at all on cleanliness. The gables of Dissenting chapels now made a visi- ble sign of religion, and of a meeting-place to counterbalance the alehouse, even in the hamlets ; but if a couple of old termagants were seen tearing each other's caps, it was a safe conclusion that if they had not received the sacraments of the Church, they had not at least given in to schismatic rites, and were free from the errors of Voluntaryism. The breath of the manufacturing town, which made a cloudy day and a red gloom by night on the ho- rizon, diffused itself over all the surrounding coun- try, filling the air with eager unrest. Here was a population not convinced that Old England was as good as possible ; here were multitudinous men and women, aware that their religion was not exactly the religion of their rulers, who might therefore be better than they were, and who, if better, might alter many things which now made the world per- haps more painful than it need be, and certainly more sinful. Yet there were the gray steeples too, and the churchyards, with their grassy mounds and venerable headstones, sleeping in the sunlight; there were broad fields and homesteads, and fine old woods covering a rising ground, or stretching far by the roadside, allowing only peeps at the park and mansion which they shut in from the working-day world. In these midland districts the FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 9 traveller passed rapidly from one phase of English life to another: after looking down on a village dingy with coal-dust, noisy with the shaking of looms, he might skirt a parish all of fields, high hedges, and deep-rutted lanes ; after the coach had rattled over the pavement of a manufacturing town, the scene of riots and trades-union meetings, it would take him in another ten minutes into a rural region, where the neighbourhood of the town was only felt in the advantages of a near market for corn, cheese, and hay, and where men with a con- siderable banking account were accustomed to say that "they never meddled with politics themselves." The busy scenes of the shuttle and the wheel, of the roaring furnace, of the shaft and the pulley, seemed to make but crowded nests in the midst of the large-spaced, slow-moving life of homesteads and far-away cottages and oak-sheltered parks. Looking at the dwellings scattered amongst the woody flats and the ploughed uplands, under the low gray sky which overhung them with an unchang- ing stillness as if Time itself were pausing, it was easy for the traveller to conceive that town and country had no pulse in common, except where the handlooms made a far-reaching straggling fringe about the great centres of manufacture ; that till the agitation about the Catholics in '29, rural Eng- lishmen had hardly known more of Catholics than of the fossil mammals ; and that their notion of Reform was a confused combination of rick-burners, trades-unions, Nottingham riots, and in general whatever required the calling out of the yeomanry. It was still easier to see that for the most part they resisted the rotation of crops, and stood by their fal- lows ; and the coachman would perhaps tell how in ro EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. one parish an innovating farmer, who talked of Sir Humphry Davy, had been fairly driven out by popu- lar dislike, as if he had been a confounded Eadical ; and how the parson having one Sunday preached from the words, " Break up your fallow-ground," the people thought he had made the text out of his own head, otherwise it would never have come " so pat " on a matter of business ; but when they found it in the Bible at home, some said it was an argument for fallows (else why should the Bible mention fallows ?), but a few of the weaker sort were shaken, and thought it was an argument that fallows should be done away with, else the Bible would have said, "Let your fallows lie;" and the next morning the parson had a stroke of apoplexy, which, as coincident with a dispute about fallows, so set the parish against the innovating farmer and the rotation of crops, that he could stand his ground no longer, and transferred his lease. ^, The coachman was an excellent travelling com- panion and commentator on the landscape : he could tell the names of sites and persons, and explain the meaning of groups, as well as the shade of Virgil in a more memorable journey; he had as many stories about parishes, and the men and women in them, as the Wanderer in the " Excur- sion," only his style was different. His view of life had originally been genial, and such as became a man who was well warmed within and without, and held a position of easy, undisputed authority ; but the recent initiation of railways had embittered him : he now, as in a perpetual vision, saw the ruined country strewn with shattered limbs, and regarded Mr. Huskisson's death as a proof of God's anger against Stephenson. " Why, every inn on FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. n the road would be shut up ! " and at that word the coachman looked before him with the blank gaze of one who had driven his coach to the outermost edge of the universe, and saw his leaders plunging into the abyss. Still he would soon relapse from the high prophetic strain to the familiar one of nar- rative. He knew whose the land was wherever he drove ; what noblemen had half ruined themselves by gambling ; who made handsome returns of rent ; and who was at daggers-drawn with his eldest son. He perhaps remembered the fathers of actual baronets, and knew stories of their extravagant or stingy housekeeping ; whom they had married, whom they had horsewhipped, whether they were particular about preserving their game, and whether they had had much to do with canal companies. About any actual landed proprietor he could also tell whether he was a Reformer or an Anti-Reformer. That was a distinction which had " turned up " in latter times, and along with it the paradox, very puzzling to the 'coachman's mind, that there were men of old family and large estate who voted for the Bill. He did not grapple with the paradox ; he let it pass, with all the discreetness of an experi- enced theologian or learned scholiast, preferring to point his whip at some object which could raise no questions. No such paradox troubled our coachman when, leaving the town of Treby Magna behind him, he drove between the hedges for a mile or so, crossed the queer long bridge over the river Lapp, and then put his horses to a swift gallop up the hill by the low-nestled village of Little Treby, till they were on the fine level road, skirted on one side by grand larches, oaks, and wych elms, which sometimes 12 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. opened so far as to let the traveller see that there was a park behind them. How many times in the year, as the coach rolled past the neglected-looking lodges which interrupted the screen of trees, and showed the river winding through a finely timbered park, had the coachman answered the same questions, or told the same things without being questioned ! That ? — oh, that was Transome Court, a place there had been a fine sight of lawsuits about. Generations back, the heir of the Transome name had somehow bar- gained away the estate, and it fell to the Durfeys, — very distant connections, who only called them- selves Transomes because they had got the estate. But the Durfeys' claim had been disputed over and over again ; and the coachman, if he had been asked, would have said, though he might have to fall down dead the next minute, that property did n't always get into the right hands. However, the lawyers had found their luck in it ; and people who inherited estates that were lawecl about often lived in them as poorly as a mouse in a hollow cheese ; and, by what he could make out, that had been the way with these present Durfeys, or Tran- somes, as they called themselves. As for Mr. Tran- some, he was as poor, half-witted a fellow as you 'd wish to see ; but she was master, had come of a high family, and had a spirit, — you might see it in her eye and the way she sat her horse. Forty years ago, when she came into this country, they said she was a pictur' ; but her family was poor, and so she took up with a hatchet-faced fellow like this Transome. And the eldest son had been just such another as his father, only worse, — a wild sort of half-natural, who got i bad company. They FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 13 said his mother hated him, and wished him dead ; for she 'd got another son, quite of a different cut, who had gone to foreign parts when he was a youngster, and she wanted her favourite to be heir. But heir or no heir, Lawyer Jermyn had had his picking out of the estate. Not a door in his big house but what was the finest polished oak, all got off the Transome estate. If anybody liked to be- lieve he paid for it, they were welcome. However, Lawyer Jermyn had sat on that box-seat many and many a time. He had made the wills of most people thereabout. The coachman would not say that Lawyer Jermyn was not the man he would choose to make his own will some day. It was not so well for a lawyer to be over-honest, else he might not be up to other people's tricks. And as for the Transome business, there had been ins and outs in time gone by, so that you couldn't look into it straight backward. At this, Mr. Sampson (every- body in North Loamshire knew Sampson's coach) would screw his features into a grimace expressive of entire neutrality, and appear to aim his whip at a particular spot on the horse's flank. If the pas- senger was curious for further knowledge concern- ing the Transome affairs, Sampson would shake his head and say there had been fine stories in his time ; but he never condescended to state what the stories were. Some attributed this reticence to a wise in- credulity, others to a want of memory, others to simple ignorance. But at least Sampson was right in saying that there had been fine stories, — mean- ing, ironically, stories not altogether creditable to the parties concerned. And such stories often come to be fine in a sense that is not ironical. For there is seldom any 14 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. wrong-doing which does not carry along with it some downfall of blindly climbing hopes, some hard entail of suffering, some quickly satiated de- sire that survives, with the life in death of old paralytic vice, to see itself cursed by its woful pro- geny, — some tragic mark of kinship in the one brief life to the far-stretching life that went before, and to the life that is to come after, such as has raised the pity and terror of men ever since they began to discern between will and destiny. But these things are often unknown to the world ; for there is much pain that is quite noiseless ; and vi- brations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder ; robberies that leave man or woman forever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer, — committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of sup- pressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear. The poets have told us of a dolorous enchanted forest in the underworld. The thorn-bushes there, and the thick-barked stems have human histories hidden in them ; the power of unuttered cries dwells in the passionless-seeming branches, and the red warm blood is darkly feeding the quivering nerves of a sleepless memory that watches through all dreams. These things are a parable. CHAPTEK I. He left me when the down upon his lip Lay like the shadow of a hovering kiss. " Beautiful mother, do not grieve," he said ; "I will be great, and build our fortunes high, And you shall wear the longest train at court, And look so queenly, all the lords shall say, ' She is a royal changeling : there 's some crown Lacks the right head, since hers wears nought but braids.' Oh, he is coming now, — but I am gray ; And he — On the 1st of September, in the memorable year 1832, some one was expected at Transome Court. As early as two o'clock in the afternoon the aged lodge-keeper had opened the heavy gate, green as the tree-trunks were green with Nature's powdery paint, deposited year after year. Already in the village of Little Treby, which lay on the side of a steep hill not far off the lodge gates, the elder ma- trons sat in their best gowns at the few cottage doors bordering the road, that they might be ready to get up and make their courtesy when a travel- ling carriage should come in sight ; and beyond the village several small boys were stationed on the lookout, intending to run a race to the barn-like old church, where the sexton waited in the belfry ready to set the one bell in joyful agitation just at the right moment. The old lodge-keeper had opened the gate and left it in the charge of his lame wife, because he was 1 6 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. wanted at the Court to sweep away the leaves, and perhaps to help in the stables. For though Tran- some Court was a large mansion, built in the fash- ion of Queen Anne's time, with a park and grounds as fine as any to be seen in Loamshire, there were very few servants about it. Especially, it seemed, there must be a lack of gardeners ; for except on the terrace surrounded with a stone parapet in front of the house, where there was a parterre kept with some neatness, grass had spread itself over the gravel walks, and over all the low mounds once carefully cut as black beds for the shrubs and larger plants. Many of the windows had the shutters closed, and under the grand Scotch fir that stooped towards one corner, the brown fir-needles of many years lay in a small stone balcony in front of two such darkened windows. All round, both near and far, there were grand trees, motionless in the still sunshine, and, like all large motionless things, seeming to add to the stillness. Here and there a leaf fluttered down ; petals fell in a silent shower ; a heavy moth floated by, and when it settled, seemed to fall wearily ; the tiny birds alighted on the walks, and hopped about in perfect tranquillity ; even a stray rabbit sat nibbling a leaf that was to its liking, in the middle of a grassy space, with an air that seemed quite impudent in so timid a crea- ture. No sound was to be heard louder than a sleepy hum, and the soft monotony of running water hur- rying on to the river that divided the park. Stand- ing on the south or east side of the house, you would never have guessed that an arrival was expected. But on the west side, where the carriage entrance was, the gates under the stone archway were thrown FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 17 open ; and so was the double door of the entrance- hall, letting in the warm light on the scagliola pillars, the marble statues, and the broad stone staircase, with its matting worn into large holes. And, stronger sign of expectation than all, from one of the doors which surrounded the entrance-hall, there came forth from time to time a lady, who walked lightly over the polished stone floor, and stood on the door-steps and watched and listened. She walked lightly, for her figure was slim and finely formed, though she was between fifty and sixty. She was a tall, proud-looking woman, with abundant gray hair, dark eyes and eyebrows, and a somewhat eagle-like yet not unfeminine face. Her tight-fitting black dress was much worn ; the fine lace of her cuffs and collar, and of the small veil which fell backwards over her high comb, was visibly mended ; but rare jewels flashed on her hands, which lay on her folded black-clad arms like finely cut onyx cameos. Many times Mrs. Transome went to the door-steps, watching and listening in vain. Each time she re- turned to the same room ; it was a moderate-sized comfortable room, with low ebony bookshelves round it, and it formed an anteroom to a large library, of which a glimpse could be seen through an open doorway, partly obstructed by a heavy tapestry cur- tain drawn on one side. There was a great deal of tarnished gilding and dinginess on the walls and furniture of this smaller room, but the pictures above the bookcases were all of a cheerful kind, — portraits in pastel of pearly-skinned ladies with hair-powder, blue ribbons, and low bodices; a splen- did portrait in oils of a Transome in the gorgeous dress of the Restoration ; another of a Transome in VOL. I. 2 18 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. his boyhood, with his hand on the neck of a small pony ; and a large Flemish battle-piece, where war seemed only a picturesque blue-and-red accident in a vast sunny expanse of plain and sky. Probably such cheerful pictures had been chosen because this was Mrs. Transome's usual sitting-room ; it was certainly for this reason that near the chair in which she seated herself each time she re-entered, there hung a picture of a youthful face which bore a strong resemblance to her own, — a beardless but masculine face, with rich brown hair hanging low on the forehead, and undulating beside each cheek down to the loose white cravat. Near this same chair were her writing-table, with vellum-covered account books on it, the cabinet in which she kept her neatly arranged drugs, her basket for her em- broidery, a folio volume of architectural engravings from which she took her embroidery patterns, a number of the " North Loamshire Herald," and the cushion for her fat Blenheim, which was too old and sleepy to notice its mistress's restlessness. For just now Mrs. Transome could not abridge the sunny tedium of the day by the feeble interest of her usual indoor occupations. Her consciousness was absorbed by memories and prospects ; and except when she walked to the entrance-door to look out, she sat motionless with folded arms, involuntarily from time to time turning towards the portrait close by her, and as often, when its young brown eyes met hers, turning away again with self-checking resolution. At last, prompted by some sudden thought or by some sound, she rose and went hastily beyond the tapestry curtain into the library. She paused near the door without speaking ; apparently she only FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 19 wished to see that no harm was being done. A man nearer seventy than sixty was in the act of ranging on a large library-table a series of shallow drawers, some of them containing dried insects, others mineralogical specimens. His pale mild eyes, receding lower jaw, and slight frame could never have expressed much vigour, either bodily or mental ; but he had now the unevenness of gait and feeble- ness of gesture which tell of a past paralytic seizure. His threadbare clothes were thoroughly brushed ; his soft white hair was carefully parted and ar- ranged : he was not a neglected-looking old man ; and at his side a fine black retriever, also old, sat on its haunches, and watched him as he went to and fro. But when Mrs. Transome appeared within the doorway, her husband paused in his work and shrank like a timid animal looked at in a cage where flight is impossible. He was conscious of a trouble- some intention, for which he had been rebuked be- fore, — that of disturbing all his specimens with a view to a new arrangement. After an interval, in which his wife stood per- fectly still, observing him, he began to put back the drawers in their places in the row of cabinets which extended under the bookshelves at one end of the library. When they were all put back and closed, Mrs. Transome turned away, and the frightened old man seated himself with Nimrod the retriever on an ottoman. Peeping at him again, a few minutes after, she saw that he had his arm round Nimrod's neck, and was uttering his thoughts to the dog in a loud whisper, as little children do to any object near them when they believe themselves unwatched. At last the sound of the church-bell reached Mrs. Transome's ear, and she knew that before long the 2o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. sound of wheels must be within hearing ; but she did not at once start up and walk to the entrance- door. She sat still, quivering and listening ; her lips became pale, her hands were cold and trembling. Was her son really coming ? She was far beyond fifty ; and since her early gladness in this best-loved boy, the harvests of her life had been scanty. Could it be that now — when her hair was gray, when sight had become one of the day's fatigues, when her young accomplishments seemed almost ludicrous, like the tone of her first harpsichord and the words of the songs long browned with age — she was going to reap an assured joy? — to feel that the doubtful deeds of her life were justified by the result, since a kind Providence had sanctioned them ? — to be no longer tacitly pitied by her neighbours for her lack of money, her imbecile husband, her graceless eldest- born, and the loneliness of her life ; but to have at her side a rich, clever, possibly a tender son ? Yes ; but there were the fifteen years of separation, and all that had happened in that long time to throw her into the background in her son's memory and affec- tion. And yet — did not men sometimes become more filial in their feeling when experience had mellowed them, and they had themselves become fathers ? Still, if Mrs. Transome had expected only her son, she would have trembled less : she expected a little grandson also ; and there were reasons why she had not been enraptured when her sou had written to her only when he was on the eve of re- turning that he already had an heir born to him. But the facts must be accepted as they stood ; and, after all, the chief thing was to have her son back again. Such pride, such affection, such hopes as she cherished in this fifty-sixth year of her life FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 21 must find their gratification in him — or nowhere. Once more she glanced at the portrait. The young brown eyes seemed to dwell on her pleasantly ; but turning from it with a sort of impatience, and saying aloud, " Of course he will be altered !" she rose almost with difficulty, and walked more slowly than before across the hall to the entrance-door. Already the sound of wheels was loud upon the gravel. The momentary surprise of seeing that it was only a post-chaise, without a servant or much lug- gage, that was passing under the stone archway and then wheeling round against the flight of stone steps, was at once merged in the sense that there was a dark face under a red travelling-cap looking at her from the window. She saw nothing else ; she was not even conscious that the small group of her own servants had mustered, or that old Hickes the butler had come forward to open the chaise-door. She heard herself called " Mother ! " and felt a light kiss on each cheek ; but stronger than all that sensation was the consciousness which no previous thought could prepare her for, that this son who had come back to her was a Strang Three minutes before, she had fancied that in spite of all changes wrought by fifteen years of separation she should clasp her son again as she had done at their parting; but in the moment when their eves met, the sense of strangeness came upon her like a terror. It was not hard to understand that she was agitated ; and the son led her across the hall to the sitting-room, closing the door behind them. Then he turned towards her and said, smiling, — " You would not have known me, eh, mother ? " It was perhaps the truth. If she had seen him in a crowd, she might have looked at him without 22 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. recognition, — not, however, without startled wonder ; for though the likeness to herself was no longer striking, the years had overlaid it with another likeness which would have arrested her. Before she answered him, his eyes, with a keen restless- ness, as unlike as possible to the lingering gaze of the portrait, had travelled quickly over the room, alighting on her again as she said, — " Everything is changed, Harold. I am an old woman, you see." " But straighter and more upright than some of the young ones ! " said Harold ; inwardly, however, feeling that age had made his mother's face very anxious and eager. "The old women at Smyrna are like sacks. You 've not got clumsy and shape- less. How is it I have the trick of getting fat ? " (Here Harold lifted his arm and spread out his plump hand.) " I remember my father was as thin as a herring. How is my father ? Where is he?" Mrs. Transome just pointed to the curtain door- way, and let her son pass through it alone. She was not given to tears ; but now under the pressure of emotion that could find no other vent, they burst forth. She took care that they should be silent tears, and before Harold came out of the library again, they were dried. Mrs. Transome had not the feminine tendency to seek influence through pathos ; she had been used to rule in virtue of acknowledged superiority. The consciousness that she had to make her son's acquaintance, and that her knowl- edge of the youth of nineteen might help her little in interpreting the man of thirty-four, had fallen like lead on her soul ; but in this new acquaintance of theirs she cared especially that her son, who had FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 23 seen a strange world, should feel that he was come home to a mother who was to be consulted on all things, and who could supply his lack of the local experience necessary to an English landholder. Her part in life had been that of the clever sinner, and she was equipped with the views, the reasons, and the habits which belonged to that character ; life would have little meaning for her if she were to be gently thrust aside as a harmless elderly woman. And besides, there were secrets which her son must never know. So, by the time Harold came from the library again, the traces of tears were not dis- cernible, except to a very careful observer. And he did not observe his mother carefully ; his eyes only glanced at her on their way to the " North Loam- shire Herald," lying on the table near her, which he took up with his left hand, as he said, — " Gad ! what a wreck poor father is ! Paralysis, eh ? Terribly shrunk and shaken, — crawls about among his books and beetles as usual, though. Well, it 's a slow and easy death. But he 's not much over sixty-five, is he ? " " Sixty-seven, counting by birthdays ; but your father was born old, I think," said Mrs. Transome, a little flushed with the determination not to show any unasked-for feeling. . Her son did not notice her. All the time he had been speaking his eyes had been running down the columns of the newspaper. " But your little boy, Harold, — where is he ? How is it he has not come with you ? " " Oh, I left him behind, in town," said Harold, still looking at the paper. " My man Dominic will bring him, with the rest of the luggage. Ah, I see it is young Debarry. and not my old friend, Sir 24 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Maximus, who is offering himself as candidate for North Loamshire." " Yes. You did not answer me when I wrote to you to London about your standing. There is no other Tory candidate spoken of, and you would have all the Debarry interest." " I hardly think that," said Harold, significantly. " Why ? Jermyn says a Tory candidate can never be got in without it." " But I shall not be a Tory candidate." Mrs. Transome felt something like an electric shock. " What then ? " she said, almost sharply. " You will not call yourself a Whig ? " " God forbid ! I 'm a Radical." Mrs. Transome's liml >s tottered ; she sank into a chair. Here was a distinct confirmation of the vague but strong feeling that her son was a stranger to her. Here was a revelation to which it seemed almost as impossible to adjust her hopes and notions of a dignified life as if her son had said that he had been converted to Mahometanism at Smyrna, and had four wives, instead of one son, shortly to arrive under the care of Dominic. For the moment she had a sickening feeling that it was all of no use that the long-delayed good fortune had come at last — all of no use, though the unloved Durfey was dead and buried, and though Harold had come home with plenty of money. There were rich Radicals, she was aware, as there were rich Jews and Dissenters, but she had never thought of them as county peo- ple. Sir Francis Burdett had been generally re- garded as a madman. It was better to ask no ques- tions, but silently to prepare herself for anything else there might be to come. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 25 " Will you go to your rooms, Harold, and see if there is anything you would like to have altered ? " " Yes, let us go," said Harold, throwing down the newspaper, in which he had been rapidly reading almost every advertisement while his mother had been going through her sharp inward struggle. " Uncle Lingon is on the bench still, I see," he went on, as he followed her across the hall ; " is he at home, — will he be here this evening ? " " He says you must go to the Eectory when you want to see him. You must remember you have come back to a family who have old-fashioned no- tions. Your uncle thought I ought to have you to myself in the first hour or two. He remembered that I had not seen my son for fifteen years." " Ah, by Jove ! fifteen years, — so it is ! " said Harold, taking his mother's hand and drawing it un- der his arm ; for he had perceived that her words were charged with an intention. " And you are as straight as an arrow still ; you will carry the shawls I have brought you as well as ever." They walked up the broad stone steps together in silence. Under the shock of discovering her son's Eadicalism, Mrs. Transome had no impulse to say one thing rather than another; as in a man who had just been branded on the forehead all wonted mo- tives would be uprooted. Harold, on his side, had no wish opposed to filial kindness, but his busy thoughts were imperiously determined by habits which had no reference to any woman's feeling ; and even if he could have conceived what his mother's feeling was, his mind, after that momen- tary arrest, would have darted forward on its usual course. 26 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " I have given you the south rooms, Harold," said Mrs. Transome, as they passed along a corridor lit from above, and lined with old family pictures. " I thought they would suit you Lest, as they all open into each other, and this middle one will make a pleasant sitting-room for you." " Gad ! the furniture is in a bad state," said Har- old, glancing round at the middle room, which they had just entered ; " the moths seem to have got into the carpets and hangings." "I had no choice except moths or tenants who would pay rent," said Mrs. Transome. " We have been too poor to keep servants for uninhabited rooms." " What ! you 've been rather pinched, eh ? " " You find us living as we have been living these twelve years." " Ah, you 've had Durfey's debts as well as the lawsuits, — confound them ! It will make a hole in sixty thousand pounds to pay off the mortgages. However, he's gone now, poor fellow ; and I suppose I should have spent more in buying an English es- tate some time or other. I always meant to be an Englishman, and thrash a lord or two who thrashed me at Eton." " I hardly thought you could have meant that, Harold, when I found you had married a foreign wife." " Would you have had me wait for a consumptive lackadaisical Englishwoman, who would have hung all her relations round my neck ? I hate English wives ; they want to give their opinion about every- thing. They interfere witli a man's life. I shall not marry again." Mrs. Transome bit her lip, and turned away to FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 27 draw up a blind. She would not reply to words which showed how completely any conception of herself and her feelings was excluded from her son's inward world. As she turned round again, she said, " I suppose you have been used to great luxury ; these rooms look miserable to you, but you can soon make any alteration you like." " Oh, I must have a private sitting-room fitted up for myself downstairs. And the rest are bed- rooms, I suppose," he went on, opening a side-door. " Ah, I can sleep here a night or two. But there 's a bedroom downstairs, with an anteroom, I re- member, that would do for my man Dominic and the little boy. I should like to have that." " Your father has slept there for years. He will be like a distracted insect, and never know where to go, if you alter the track he has to walk in." " That 's a pity. I hate going upstairs." " There is the steward's room ; it is not used, and might be turned into a bedroom. I can't offer you my room, for I sleep upstairs." (Mrs. Transome's tongue could be a whip upon occasion, but the lash had not fallen on a sensitive spot.) " No ; I 'm determined not to sleep upstairs. We '11 see about the steward's room to-morrow, and I dare say I shall find a closet of some sort for Dominic. It's a nuisance he had to stay behind, for I shall have nobody to cook for me. Ah, there 's the old river I used to fish in. I often thought, when I was at Smyrna, that I would buy a park with a river through it as much like the Lapp as possible. Gad, what fine oaks those are opposite ! Some of them must come down, though." 28 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " I 've held every tree sacred on the demesne, as I told you, Harold. I trusted to your getting the estate some time, and releasing it ; and I deter- mined to keep it worth releasing. A park without fine timber is no better than a beauty without teeth and hair." " Bravo, mother ! " said Harold, putting his hand on her shoulder. " Ah, you 've had to worry your- self about things that don't properly belong to a woman, — my father being weakly. We '11 set all that right. You shall have nothing to do now but to be grandmamma on satin cushions." " You must excuse me from the satin cushions. That is a part of the old woman's duty I am not prepared for. I am used to be chief bailiff, and to sit in the saddle two or three hours every day. There are two farms on our hands besides the Home Farm." " Phew-ew ! Jermyn manages the estate badly, then. That will not last under my reign," said Harold, turning on his heel and feeling in his pockets for the keys of his portmanteaus, which had been brought up. " Perhaps when you 've been in England a little longer," said Mrs. Transome, colouring as if she had been a girl, " you will understand better the diffi- culty there is in letting farms in these times." " I understand the difficulty perfectly, mother. To let farms, a man must have the sense to see what will make them inviting to farmers, and to get sense supplied on demand is just the most difficult transaction I know of. I suppose if I ring there 's some fellow who can act as valet and learn to attend to my hookah ? " " There is Hickes the butler, and there is Jabez FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 29 the footman ; those are all the men in the house. They were here when you left." " Oh, I remember Jabez, — he was a dolt. I '11 have old Hickes. He was a neat little machine of a butler ; his words used to come like the clicks of an engine. He must be an old machine now, though." " You seem to remember some things about home wonderfully well, Harold." " Never forget places and people, — how they look and what can be done with them. All the country round here lies like a map in my brain. A deuced pretty country too ; but the people were a stupid set of old Whigs and Tories. I suppose they are much as they were." " I am, at least, Harold. You are the first of your family that ever talked of being a Eadical. I did not think I was taking care of our old oaks for that. I always thought Eadicals' houses stood staring above poor sticks of young trees and iron hurdles." " Yes ; but the Radical sticks are growing, mother, and half the Tory oaks are rotting," said Harold, with gay carelessness. " You 've arranged for Jer- myn to be early to-morrow ? " " He will be here to breakfast at nine. But I leave you to Hickes now ; we dine in an hour." Mrs. Transome went away, and shut herself in her own dressing-room. It had come to pass now, — this meeting with the son who had been the object of so much longing ; whom she had longed for be- fore he was born, for whom she had sinned, from whom she had wrenched herself with pain at their parting, and whose coming again had been the one great hope of her years. The moment was gone by ; there had been no ecstasy, no gladness even. 3o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Hardly half an hour had passed, and few words had been spoken, yet with that quickness in weaving new futures which belongs to women whose actions have kept them in habitual fear of consequences, Mrs. Transome thought she saw with all the clear- ness of demonstration that her son's return had not been a good for her in the sense of making her any happier. She stood before a tall mirror, going close to it and looking at her face with hard scrutiny, as if it were unrelated to herself. No elderly face can be handsome, looked at in that way ; every little de- tail is startlingly prominent, and the effect of the whole is lost. She saw the dried-up complexion, and the deep lines of bitter discontent about the mouth. "I am a hag," she said to herself (she was ac- customed to give her thoughts a very sharp out- line), " an ugly old woman who happens to be his mother. That is what he sees in me, as I see a stranger in him. I shall count for nothing. I was foolish to expect anything else." She turned away from the mirror, and walked up and down her room. " What a likeness ! " she said, in a loud whisper ; " yet, perhaps, no one will see it besides me." She threw herself into a chair, and sat with a fixed look, seeing nothing that was actually present, but inwardly seeing with painful vividness what had been present with her a little more than thirty years ago, — the little round-limbed creature that had been leaning against her knees, and stamping tiny feet, and looking up at her with gurgling laughter. She had thought that the possession of this child would give unity to her life, and make FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 31 some gladness through the changing years that would grow as fruit out of these early maternal caresses. But nothing had come just as she had wished. The mother's early raptures had lasted but a short time ; and even while they lasted there had grown up in the midst of them a hungry desire, like a black poisonous plant feeding in the sunlight, — the desire that her first, rickety, ugly, imbecile child should die, and leave room for her darling, of whom she could be proud. Such desires make life a hideous lottery, where every day may turn up a blank ; where men and women who have the softest beds and the most delicate eating, who have a very large share of that sky and earth which some are born to have no more of than the fraction to be got in a crowded entry, yet grow haggard, fevered, and restless, like those who watch in other lotteries. Day after day, year after year, had yielded blanks ; new cares had come, bringing other desires for re- sults quite beyond her grasp, which must also be watched for in the lottery ; and all the while the round-limbed pet had been growing into a strong youth, who liked many things better than his mother's caresses, and who had a much keener consciousness of his independent existence than of his relation to her ; the lizard's egg — that white, rounded, passive prettiness — had become a brown, darting, determined lizard. The mother's love is at first an absorbing delight, blunting all other sensi- bilities ; it is an expansion of the animal existence ; it enlarges the imagined range for self to move in : but in after years it can only continue to be joy on the same terms as other long-lived love, — that is, by much suppression of self, and power of living in the experience of another. Mrs. Transome had 32 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. darkly felt the pressure of that unchangeable fact Yet she had clung to the belief that somehow the possession of this son was the best thing she lived for ; to believe otherwise would have made her memory too ghastly a companion. Some time or other, by some means, the estate she was struggling to save from the grasp of the law would be Harold's. Somehow the hated Durfey, the imbecile eldest, who seemed to have become tenacious of a despicable squandering life, would be got rid of; vice might kill him. Meanwhile the estate was burthened; there was no good prospect for any heir. Harold must go and make a career for himself; and this was what he was bent on, with a precocious clear- ness of perception as to the conditions on which he could hope for any advantages in life. Like most energetic natures, he had a strong faith in his luck ; he had been gay at their parting, and had promised to make his fortune ; and in spite of past disappoint- ments, Harold's possible fortune still made some ground for his mother to plant her hopes in. His luck had not failed him; yet nothing had turned out according to her expectations. Her life had been like a spoiled, shabby pleasure-day, in which the music and the processions are all missed, and noth- ing is left at evening but the weariness of striving after what has been failed of. Harold had gone with the Embassy to Constantinople, under the patronage of a high relative, his mother's cousin; he was to be a diplomatist, and work his way up- ward in public life. But his luck had taken an- other shape : he had saved the life of an Armenian banker, who in gratitude had offered him a prospect which his practical mind had preferred to the problematic promises of diplomacy and high-born FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 33 cousinship. Harold had become a merchant and banker at Smyrna ; had let the years pass without caring to find the possibility of visiting his early home, and had shown no eagerness to make his life at all familiar to his mother, asking for letters about England, but writing scantily about himself. Mrs. Transome had kept up the habit of writing to her son, but gradually the unfruitful years had dulled her hopes and yearnings ; increasing anxie- ties about money had worried her, and she was more sure of being fretted by bad news about her dissolute eldest son than of hearing anything to cheer her from Harold. She had begun to live merely in small immediate cares and occupations, and, like all eager-minded women who advance in life without any activity of tenderness or any large sympathy, she had contracted small rigid habits of thinking and acting, she had her " ways " which must not be crossed, and had learned to fill up the great void of life with giving small orders to tenants, insisting on medicines for infirm cottagers, winning small triumphs in bargains and personal economies, and parrying ill-natured remarks of Lady Debarry's by lancet-edged epigrams. So her life had gone on till more than a year ago, when that desire which had been so hungry when she was a blooming young mother was at last fulfilled, — at last, when her hair was gray, and her face looked bitter, restless, and unenjoying, like her life. The news came from Jersey that Durfey, the imbecile son, was dead. Now Harold was heir to the estate ; now the wealth he had gained could release the land from its bur- thens ; now he would think it worth while to re- turn home. A change had at last come over her life, and the sunlight breaking the clouds at even- vol. 1. — 3 34 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. ing was pleasant, though the sun must sink before long. Hopes, affections, the sweeter part of her memories, started from their wintry sleep, and it once more seemed a great good to have had a second son who in some ways had cost her dearly. But again there were conditions she had not reckoned on. When the good tidings had been sent to Har- old, and he had announced that he would return so soon as he could wind up his affairs, he had for the first time informed his mother that he had been married, that his Greek wife was no longer living, but that he should bring home a little boy, the finest and most desirable of heirs and grandsons. Harold, seated in his distant Smyrna home, consid- ered that he was taking a rational view of what things must have become by this time at the old place in England, when he figured his mother as a good elderly lady, who would necessarily be de- lighted with the possession on any terms of a healthy grandchild, and would not mind much about the particulars of the long-concealed marriage. Mrs. Transome had torn up that letter in a rage. But in the months which had elapsed before Harold could actually arrive, she had prepared herself as well as she could to suppress all reproaches or queries which her son might resent, and to ac- quiesce in his evident wishes. The return was still looked for with longing ; affection and satisfied pride would again warm her later years. She was ignorant what sort of man Harold had become now, and of course he must be changed in many ways ; but though she told herself this, still the image that she knew, the image fondness clung to, neces- sarily prevailed over the negatives insisted on by her reason. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 35 And so it was that when she had moved to the door to meet him, she had been sure that she should clasp her son again, and feel that he was the same who had been her boy, her little one, the loved child of her passionate youth. An hour seemed to have changed everything for her. A woman's hopes are woven of sunbeams ; a shadow annihilates them. The shadow which had fallen over Mrs. Transome in this first interview with her son was the presentiment of her powerlessness. If things went wrong, if Harold got unpleasantly disposed in a certain direction where her chief dread had always lain, she seemed to foresee that her words would be of no avail. The keenness of her anxiety in this matter had served as insight ; and Harold's rapidity, decision, and indifference to any impressions in others which did not further or impede his own purposes, had made themselves felt by her as much as she would have felt the un- manageable strength of a great bird which had alighted near her, and allowed her to stroke its wing for a moment because food lay near her. Under the cold weight of these thoughts Mrs. Transome shivered. That physical reaction roused her from her reverie, and she could now hear the gentle knocking at the door to which she had been deaf before. Notwithstanding her activity and the fewness of her servants, she had never dressed her- self without aid ; nor would that small, neat, ex- quisitely clean old woman who now presented herself have wished that her labour should be saved at the expense of such a sacrifice on her lady's part. The small old woman was Mrs. Hickes, the butler's wife, who acted as house- keeper, lady's-maid, and superintendent of the 36 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. kitchen, — the large stony scene of inconsiderable cooking. Forty years ago she had entered Mrs. Transome's service, when that lady was beautiful Miss Lingon ; and her mistress still called her Den- ner, as she had done in the old days. "The bell has rung, then, Denner, without my hearing it ? " said Mrs. Transome, rising. "Yes, madam," said Denner, reaching from a wardrobe an old black velvet dress trimmed with much-mended point, in which Mrs. Transome was wont to look queenly of an evening. Denner had still strong eyes of that short-sighted kind which sees through the narrowest chink be- tween the eyelashes. The physical contrast be- tween the tall, eagle-faced, dark-eyed lady and the little peering waiting-woman, who had been round-featured and of pale, mealy complexion from her youth up, had doubtless had a strong influence in determining Denner's feeling towards her mis- tress, which was of that worshipful sort paid to a goddess in ages when it was not thought necessary or likely that a goddess should be very moral. There were different orders of beings, — so ran Denner's creed, — and she belonged to another or- der than that to which her mistress belonged. She had a mind as sharp as a needle, and would have seen through and through the ridiculous preten- sions of a born servant who did not submissively accept the rigid fate which had given her born superiors. She would have called such pretensions the wrigglings of a worm that tried to walk on its tail. There was a tacit understanding that Den- ner knew all her mistress's secrets, and her speech was plain and unflattering; yet with wonderful subtlety of instinct she never said anything which FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 37 Mrs. Transome could feel humiliated by, as by a familiarity from a servant who knew too much. Denner identified her own dignity with that of her mistress. She was a hard-headed, godless lit- tle woman, but with a character to be reckoned on as you reckon on the qualities of iron. Peering into Mrs. Transome's face, she saw clearly that the meeting with the son had been a disap- pointment in some way. She spoke with a refined accent, in a low, quick, monotonous tone, — " Mr. Harold is drest ; he shook me by the hand in the corridor, and was very pleasant." " What an alteration, Denner ! No likeness to me now." " Handsome, though, spite of his being so browned and stout. There 's a fine presence about Mr. Harold. I remember you used to say, madam, there were some people you would always know were in the room though they stood round a corner, and others you might never see till you ran against them. That 's as true as truth. And as for like- nesses, thirty-five and sixty are not much alike, only to people's memories." Mrs. Transome knew perfectly that Denner had divined her thoughts. " I don't know how things will go on now ; but it seems something too good to happen that they will go on well. I am afraid of ever expecting anything good again." " That 's weakness, madam. Things don't hap- pen because they 're bad or good, else all eggs would be addled or none at all, and at the most it is but six to the dozen. There 's good chances and bad chances, and nobody's luck is pulled only by one string." -■■ o r o n o 38 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " What a woman you are, Denner ! You talk like a French infidel. It seems to me you are afraid of nothing. I have been full of fears all my life, — always seeing something or other hanging over me that I could n't bear to happen." " Well, madam, put a good face on it, and don't seem to be on the lookout for crows, else you '11 set other people watching. Here you have a rich son come home, and the debts will all be paid, and you have your health and can ride about, and you 've such a face and figure, and will have if you live to be eighty, that everybody is cap in hand to you before they know who you are, — let me fasten up your veil a little higher ; there 's a good deal of pleasure in life for you yet." " Nonsense ! there 's no pleasure for old women, unless they get it out of tormenting other people. What are your pleasures, Denner, — besides being a slave to me ? " " Oh, there 's pleasure in knowing one 's not a fool, like half the people one sees about. And managing one's husband is some pleasure ; and do- ing all one's business well. Why, if I 've only got some orange flowers to candy, I should n't like to die till I see them all right. Then there 's the sun- shine now and then ; I like that as the cats do. I look upon it, life is like our game at whist, when Banks and his wife come to the still-room of an evening. I don't enjoy the game much, but I like to play my cards well, and see what will be the end of it ; and I want to see you make the best of your hand, madam, for your luck has been mine these forty years now. But I must go and see how Kitty dishes up the dinner, unless you have any more commands." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 39 " No, Denner ; I am going down immediately." As Mrs. Transome descended the stone staircase in her old black velvet and point, her appearance justified Denner's personal compliment. She had that high-born imperious air which would have marked her as an object of hatred and reviling by a revolutionary mob. Her person was too typical of social distinctions to be passed by with indifference by any one ; it would have fitted an empress in her own right, who had had to rule in spite of faction, to dare the violation of treaties and dread retribu- tive invasions, to grasp after new territories, to be defiant in desperate circumstances, and to feel a woman's hunger of the heart forever unsatisfied. Yet Mrs. Transome's cares and occupations had not been at all of an imperial sort. For thirty years she had led the monotonous narrowing life which used to be the lot of our poorer gentry ; who never went to town, and were probably not on speaking terms with two out of the five families whose parks lay within the distance of a drive. When she was young she had been thought wonderfully clever and accomplished, and had been rather ambitious of intellectual superiority, — had secretly picked out for private reading the lighter parts of dangerous French authors, — and in company had been able to talk of Mr. Burke's style or of Chateaubriand's eloquence, — had laughed at the Lyrical Ballads, and admired Mr. Southey's Thalaba. She always thought that the dangerous French writers were wicked, and that her reading of them was a sin ; but many sinful things were highly agreeable to her, and many things which she did not doubt to be good and true were dull and meaningless. She found ridicule of Biblical characters very amusing, 4 o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. and she was interested in stories of illicit passion ; but she believed all the while that truth and safety lay in due attendance on prayers and sermons, in the admirable doctrines and ritual of the Church of England, equally remote from Puritanism and Popery, — in fact, in such a view of this world and the next as would preserve the existing arrange- ments of English society quite unshaken, keeping down the obtrusiveness of the vulgar and the dis- content of the poor. The history of the Jews, she knew, ought to be preferred to any profane history ; the Pagans, of course, were vicious, and their reli- gions quite nonsensical, considered as religions, — but classical learning came from the Pagans; the Greeks were famous for sculpture ; the Italians for paint- ing ; the middle ages were dark and Papistical ; but now Christianity went hand in hand with civiliza- tion, and the providential government of the world, though a little confused and entangled in foreign countries, in our favoured land was clearly seen to be carried forward on Tory and Church of England principles, sustained by the succession of the House of Brunswick, and by sound English divines. Eor Miss Lingon had had a superior governess, who held that a woman should lie able to write a good letter, and to express herself with propriety on gen- eral subjects. And it is astonishing how effective this education appeared in a handsome girl, who sat supremely well on horseback, sang and played a little, painted small figures in water-colors, had a naughty sparkle in her eyes when she made a dar- ing quotation, and an air of serious dignity when she recited something from her store of correct opinions. But however such a stock of ideas may be made to tell in elegant society, and during a few FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 41 seasons in town, no amount of bloom and beauty can make them a perennial source of interest in things not personal ; and the notion that what is true and, in general, good for mankind, is stupid and drug-like, is not a safe theoretic basis in cir- cumstances of temptation and difficulty. Mrs. Transome had been in her bloom before this century began, and in the long painful years since then, what she had once regarded as her knowledge and accomplishments had become as valueless as old- fashioned stucco ornaments, of which the substance was never worth anything, while the form is no longer to the taste of any living mortal. Crosses, mortifications, money-cares, conscious blameworthi- ness, had changed the aspect of the world for her : there was anxiety in the morning sunlight; there was unkind triumph or disapproving pity in the glances of greeting neighbours ; there was advanc- ing age, and a contracting prospect in the changing seasons as they came and went. And what could then sweeten the days to a hungry, much-exacting self like Mrs. Transome's ? Under protracted ill every living creature will find something that makes a comparative ease, and even when life seems woven of pain, will convert the fainter pang into a desire. Mrs. Transome, whose imperious will had availed little to ward off the great evils of her life, found the opiate for her discontent in the exertion of her will about smaller things. She was not cruel, and could not enjoy thoroughly what she called the old woman's pleasure of tormenting ; but she liked every little sign of power her lot had left her. She liked that a tenant should stand bareheaded below her as she sat on horseback. She liked to insist that work done without her orders should be 1111- 42 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. done from beginning to end. She liked to be courte- sied and bowed to by all the congregation as she walked up the little barn of a church. She liked to change a labourer's medicine fetched from the doctor, and substitute a prescription of her own. If she had only been more haggard and less majestic, those who had glimpses of her outward life might have said she was a tyrannical, griping harridan, with a tongue like a razor. No one said exactly that; but they never said anything like the full truth about her, or divined what was hidden un- der that outward life, — a woman's keen sensibility and dread, which lay screened behind all her petty habits and narrow notions, as some quivering thing with eyes and throbbing heart may lie crouching behind withered rubbish. The sensibility and dread had palpitated all the faster in the prospect of her son's return ; and now that she had seen him, she said to herself, in her bitter way : " It is a lucky eel that escapes skinning. The best happiness I shall ever know, will be to escape the worst misery " CHAPTEE II. A jolly parson of the good old stock, By birth a gentle man, yet homely too, Suiting his phrase to Hodge and Margery Whom he once christened, and has married since. A little lax in doctrine and in life, Not thinking God was captious in such things As what a man might drink on holidays, But holding true religion was to do As you 'd be done by, — which could never mean That he should preach three sermons in a week. Harold Transome did not choose to spend the whole evening with his mother. It was his habit to compress a great deal of effective conversation into a short space of time, asking rapidly all the questions he wanted to get answered, and diluting no subject with irrelevancies, paraphrase, or repetitions. He volunteered no information about himself and his past life at Smyrna, but answered pleasantly enough, though briefiv, whenever his mother asked for air.' detail. He was evidently ill-satisfied as to his palate, trying red pepper to everything, then asking if there were any relishing sauces in the house, and when Hickes brought various home-filled bottles, trying several, finding them failures, and finally fall- ing back from his plate in despair. Yet he remained good-humoured, saying something to his father now and then for the sake of being kind, and looking on with a pitying shrug as he saw him watch Hickes 44 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. cutting his food. Mrs. Transome thought with some bitterness that Harold showed more feeling for her feeble husband who had never cared in the least about him, than for her, who had given him more than the usual share of mother's love. An hour after dinner, Harold, who had already been turning over the leaves of his mother's account- books, said, — "I shall just cross the park to the parsonage to see my uncle Lingon." " Very well. He can answer more questions for you." " Yes," said Harold, quite deaf to the innuendo, and accepting the words as a simple statement of the fact. " I want to hear all about the game and the North Loamshire hunt. I 'm fond of sport ; we had a great deal of it at Smyrna, and it keeps down my fat." The Eev. John Lingon became very talkative over his second bottle of port, which was opened on his nephew's arrival. He was not curious about the manners of Smyrna or about Harold's experience, but he unbosomed himself very freely as to what he himself liked and disliked, which of the farmers he suspected of killing the foxes, what game he had bagged that very morning, what spot he would recommend as a new cover, and the comparative flatness of all existing sport compared with cock- fighting, under which Old England had been pros- perous and glorious, while, so far as he could see, it had gained little by the abolition of a practice which sharpened the faculties of men, gratified the instincts of the fowl, and carried out the designs of heaven in its admirable device of spurs. From these main topics, which made his points of departure and .FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 45 return, he rambled easily enough at any new sugges- tion or query ; so that when Harold got home at a late hour, he was conscious of having gathered from amidst the pompous, full-toned triviality of his uncle's chat some impressions which were of prac- tical importance. Among the Rector's dislikes, it appeared, was Mr. Matthew Jermyn. " A fat-handed, glib-tongued fellow, with a scented cambric handkerchief ; one of your educated low- bred fellows ; a foundling who got his Latin for nothing at Christ's Hospital ; one of your middle- class upstarts who want to rank with gentlemen, and think they '11 do it with kid gloves and new furniture." But since Harold meant to stand for the county, Mr. Lingon was equally emphatic as to the neces- sity of his not quarrelling with Jermyn till the election was over. Jermyn must be his acjent ; Harold must wink hard till he found himself safely returned ; and even then it might be well to let Jermyn drop gently and raise no scandal. He him- self had no quarrel with the fellow ; a clergyman should have no quarrels, and he made it a point to be able to take wine with any man he met at table. And as to the estate, and his sister's going too much by Jermyn's advice, he never meddled with busi- ness ; it was not his duty as a clergyman. That, he considered, was the meaning of Melchisedec and the tithe, — a subject into which he had gone to some depth thirty years ago, when he preached the Visitation sermon. The discovery that Harold meant to stand on the Liberal side — nay, that he boldly declared himself a Radical — was rather startling ; but to his uncle's good-humour, beatified by the sipping of port-wine, 46 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. nothing could seem highly objectionable, provided it did not disturb that operation. In the course of half an hour he had brought himself to see that anything really worthy to be called British Toryism had been entirely extinct since the Duke of Wel- lington and Sir Eobert Peel had passed the Cath- olic Emancipation Bill ; that Whiggery, with its rights of man stopping short at ten-pound house- holders, and its policy of pacifying a wild beast with a bite, was a ridiculous monstrosity ; that therefore, since an honest man could not call him- self a Tory, which it was, in fact, as impossible to be now as to fight for the old Pretender, and could still less become that execrable monstrosity a Whig, there remained but one course open to him. " Why, lad, if the world was turned into a swamp, I sup- pose we should leave off shoes and stockings, and walk about like cranes," — whence it followed plainly enough that in these hopeless times nothing was left to men of sense and good family but to retard the national ruin by declaring themselves Eadicals, and take the inevitable process of chang- ing everything out of the hands of beggarly dema- gogues and purse-proud tradesmen. It is true the Eector was helped to this chain of reasoning by Harold's remarks ; but he soon became quite ardent in asserting the conclusion. " If the mob can't be turned back, a man of fam- ily must try and head the mob, and save a few homes and hearths, and keep the country up on its last legs as long as he can. And you 're a man of family, my lad, — dash it ! you 're a Lingon, what- ever else you may be, and I '11 stand by yon. I 've no great interest ; I 'm a poor parson. I 've been forced to give up hunting ; my pointers and a glass FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 47 of good wine are the only decencies becoming my station that I can allow myself. But I '11 give you my countenance, — I '11 stick to you as my nephew. There 's no need for me to change sides exactly. I was born a Tory, and I shall never be a bishop. But if anybody says you 're in the wrong, I shall say, ' My nephew is in the right ; he has turned Eadical to save his country. If William Pitt had been living now, he 'd have done the same ; for what did he say when he was dying ? Not " Oh, save my party ! " but " Oh, save my country, Heaven ! " ' That was what they dinned in our ears about Peel and the Duke ; and now I '11 turn it round upon them. They shall be hoist with their own petard. Yes, yes, I '11 stand by you." Harold did not feel sure that his uncle would thoroughly retain this satisfactory thread of argu- ment in the uninspired hours of the morning ; but the old gentleman was sure to take the facts easily in the end, and there was no fear of family coolness or quarrelling on this side. Harold was glad of it. He was not to be turned aside from any course he had chosen ; but he disliked all quarrelling as an unpleasant expenditure of energy that could have no good practical result. He was at once active and luxurious ; fond of mastery, and good-natured enough to wish that every one about him should like his mastery ; not caring greatly to know other people's thoughts, and ready to despise them as blockheads if their thoughts differed from his, and yet solicitous that they should have no colourable reason for slight thoughts about him. The block- heads must be forced to respect him. Hence, in proportion as he foresaw that his equals in the neighbourhood would be indignant with him for his 48 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. political choice, he cared keenly about making a good figure before them in every other way. His conduct as a landholder was to be judicious, his es- tablishment was to be kept up generously, his im- becile father treated with careful regard, his family relations entirely without scandal. He knew that affairs had been unpleasant in his youth, — that there had been ugly lawsuits, — and that his scape- grace brother Durfey had helped to lower still far- ther the depressed condition of the family. All this must be retrieved, now that events had made Harold the head of the Transome name. Jermyn must be used for the election, and after that, if he must be got rid of, it would be well to shake him loose quietly : his uncle was probably right on both these points. But Harold's expecta- tion that he should want to get rid of Jermyn was founded on other reasons than his scented handker- chief and his charity-school Latin. If the lawyer had been presuming on Mrs. Tran- some's ignorance as a woman, and on the stupid rakishness of the original heir, the new heir would prove to him that he had calculated rashly. Other- wise, Harold had no prejudice against him. In his boyhood and youth he had seen Jermyn frequenting Transome Court, but had regarded him with that total indifference with which youngsters are apt to view those who neither deny them pleasures nor give them any. Jermyn used to smile at him, and speak to him affably ; but Harold, half proud, half shy, got away from such patronage as soon as pos- sible : he knew Jermyn was a man of business ; his father, his uncle, and Sir Maximus Debarry did not regard him as a gentleman and their equal. He had known no evil of the man ; but he saw now FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 49 that if he were really a covetous upstart, there had been a temptation for him in the management of the Transome affairs ; and it was clear that the estate was in a bad condition. When Mr. Jermyn was ushered into the break- fast-room the next morning, Harold found him surprisingly little altered by the fifteen years. He was gray, but still remarkably handsome ; fat, but tall enough to bear that trial to man's dignity. There was as strong a suggestion of toilet about him as if he had been five-and-twenty instead of nearly sixty. He chose always to dress in black, and was especially addicted to black satin waistcoats, which carried out the general sleekness of his appearance ; and this, together with his white, fat, but beauti- fully shaped hands, which he was in the habit of rubbing gently on his entrance into a room, gave him very much the air of a lady's physician. Harold remembered with some amusement his uncle's dis- like of those conspicuous hands ; but as his own were soft and dimpled, and as he too was given to the innocent practice of rubbing those members, his suspicions were not yet deepened. "I congratulate you, Mrs. Transome," said Jermyn, with a soft and deferential smile, " all the more," he added, turning towards Harold, " now I have the pleasure of actually seeing your son. I am glad to perceive that an Eastern climate has not been un- favourable to him." " No," said Harold, shaking Jermyn's hand care- lessly, and speaking with more than his usual rapid brusqueness, " the question is, whether the English climate will agree with me. It's deuced shifting and damp ; and as for the food, it would be the finest thing in the world for this country if the southern VOL. I. — 4 So FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. cooks would change their religion, get persecuted, and fly to England, as the old silk-weavers did." " There are plenty of foreign cooks for those who are rich enough to pay for them, I suppose," said Mrs. Transome ; " but they are unpleasant people to have about one's house." " Gad ! I don't think so," said Harold. " The old servants are sure to quarrel with them." " That 's no concern of mine. The old servants will have to put up with my man Dominic, who will show them how to cook and do everything else in a way that will rather astonish them." " Old people are not so easily taught to change all their ways, Harold." " Well, they can give up and watch the young ones," said Harold, thinking only at that moment of old Mrs. Hickes and Dominic. But his mother was not thinking of them only. " You have a valuable servant, it seems," said Jermyn, who understood Mrs. Transome better than her son did, and wished to smoothen the current of their dialogue. " Oh, one of those wonderful southern fellows that make one's life easy. He 's of no country in particular. I don't know whether he 's most of a Jew, a Greek, an Italian, or a Spaniard. He speaks five or six languages, one as well as another. He 's cook, valet, major-domo, and secretary all in one ; and what 's more, he 's an affectionate fellow, — I can trust to his attachment. That's a sort of human specimen that does n't grow here in Eng- land, I fancy. I should have been badly off if I could not have brought Dominic." They sat down to breakfast with such slight talk as this going on. Each of the party was pre- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 51 occupied and uneasy. Harold's mind was busy constructing probabilities about what he should discover of Jermyn's mismanagement or dubious application of funds, and the sort of self-command he must in the worst case exercise in order to use the man as long as he wanted him. Jermyn was closely observing Harold with an unpleasant sense that there was an expression of acuteness and de- termination about him which would make him formidable. He would certainly have preferred at that moment that there had been no second heir of the Transome name to come back upon him from the East. Mrs. Transome was not observing the two men ; rather, her hands were cold, and her whole person shaken by their presence. She seemed to hear and see what they said and did with preter- natural acuteness, and yet she was also seeing and hearing what had been said and done many years before, and feeling a dim terror about the future. There were piteous sensibilities in this faded woman, who thirty-four years ago, in the splendour of her bloom, had been imperious to one of these men, and had rapturously pressed the other as an infant to her bosom, and now knew that she was of little consequence to either of them. "Well, what are the prospects about the elec- tion ? " said Harold, as the breakfast was advancing. " There are two Whigs and one Conservative likely to be in the field, I know. What is your opinion of the chances ? " Mr. Jermyn had a copious supply of words, which often led him into periphrase ; but he cultivated a hesitating stammer, which, with a handsome impas- siveness of face, except when he was smiling at a woman, or when the latent savageness of his nature 52 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. was thoroughly roused, he had found useful in many- relations, especially in business. No one could have found out that he was not at his ease. " My opinion," he replied, " is in a state of balance at present. This division of the county, you are aware, contains one manufacturing town of the first magnitude, and several smaller ones. The manufacturing in- terest is widely dispersed. So far — a — there is a presumption — a — in favour of the two Liberal candidates. Still, with a careful canvass of the agricultural districts, such as those we have round us at Treby Magna, I think — a — the auguries — a — would not be unfavourable to the return of a Conservative. A fourth candidate of good position, who should coalesce with Mr. Debarry — a — " Here Mr. Jermyn hesitated for the third time, and Harold broke in, — " That will not be my line of action, so we need not discuss it. If I put up, it will be as a Radical ; and I fancy, in any county that would return Whigs there would be plenty of voters to be combed off by a Eadical who offered himself with good pretensions." There was the slightest possible quiver discerni- ble across Jermyn's face. Otherwise lie sat as he had done before, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on the frill of a ham before him, and his hand trifling with his fork. He did not answer immediately ; but when he did, he looked round steadily at Harold. " I 'm delighted to perceive that you have kept yourself so thoroughly acquainted with English politics." " Oh, of course ! " said Harold, impatiently. " I 'm aware how things have been going on in England. I always meant to come back ultimately. I suppose FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 53 I know the state of Europe as well as if I 'd been stationary at Little Treby for the last fifteen years. If a man goes to the East, people seem to think he gets turned into something like the one- eyed calender in the ' Arabian Nights.' ' " Yet I should think there are some things which people who have been stationary at Little Treby could tell you, Harold," said Mrs. Transome. " It did not signify about your holding Eadical opinions at Smyrna ; but you seem not to imagine how your putting up as a Eadical will affect your position here and the position of your family. No one will visit you. And then — the sort of people who will support you ! You really have no idea what an im- pression it conveys when you say you are a Eadical. There are none of our equals who will not feel that you have disgraced yourself." " Pooh ! " said Harold, rising and walking along the room. But Mrs. Transome went on with growing anger in her voice : " It seems to me that a man owes something to his birth and station, and has no right to take up this notion or the other, just as it suits his fancy ; still less to work at the overthrow of his class. That was what every one said of Lord Grey, and my family at least is as good as Lord Grey's. You have wealth now, and might distinguish your- self in the county ; and if you had been true to your colours as a gentleman, you would have had all the greater opportunity because the times are so bad. The Debarrys and Lord Wyvern would have set all the more store by you. For my part, I can't conceive what good you propose to yourself. I only entreat you to think again before you take any decided step." 54 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Mother," said Harold, not angrily or with any raising of his voice, but in a quick, impatient manner, as if the scene must be got through as quickly as possible, " it is natural that you should think in this way. Women, very properly, don't change their views, but keep to the notions in which they have been brought up. It does n't signify what they think, — they are not called upon to judge or to act. You must really leave me to take my own course in these matters, which properly belong to men. Beyond that I will gratify any wish you choose to mention. You shall have a new carriage and a pair of bays all to yourself ; you shall have the house done up in first-rate style, and I am not thinking of marrying, But let us understand that there shall be no further collision between us on subjects on which I must be master of my own actions." "And you will put the crown to the morti- fications of my life, Harold. I don't know who would be a mother if she could foresee what a slight thing she will be to her son when she is old." Mrs. Transome here walked out of the room by the nearest way, — the glass door open towards the terrace. Mr. Jermyn had risen too, and his hands were on the back of his chair. He looked quite impassive : it was not the first time he had seen Mrs. Transome angry ; but now, for the first time, he thought the outburst of her temper would be useful to him. She, poor woman, knew quite well that she had been unwise, and that she had been making herself disagreeable to Harold to no pur- pose. But half the sorrows of women would be averted if they could repress the speech they know to be useless, — nay, the speech they have resolved FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 55 not to utter. Harold continued his walking a moment longer, and then said to Jermyn, — " You smoke ? " " No, I always defer to the ladies. Mrs. Jermyn is peculiarly sensitive in such matters, and does n't like tobacco." Harold, who, underneath all the tendencies which had made him a Liberal, had intense personal pride, thought : " Confound the fellow — with his Mrs. Jermyn ! Does he think we. are on a footing for me to know anything about his wife ? " " Well, I took my hookah before breakfast," he said aloud; "so, if you like, we'll go into the library. My father never gets up till mid-day, I find." " Sit down, sit down ! " said Harold, as they entered the handsome, spacious library. But he himself continued to stand before a map of the county which he had opened from a series of rollers oc- cupying a compartment among the book-shelves. " The first cpiestion, Mr. Jermyn, now you know my intentions, is, whether you will undertake to be my agent in this election, and help me through ? There 's no time to be lost, and I don't want to lose my chance, as I may not have another for seven years. I understand," he went on, flashing a look straight at Jermyn, " that you have not taken any conspicuous course in politics ; and I know that Labron is agent for the Debarrys." " Oh — a — my dear sir — a man necessarily has his political convictions, but of what use is it for a professional man — a — of some education, to talk of them in a little country town ? There really is no comprehension of public questions in such places. Party feeling, indeed, was cprite asleep here before the agitation about the Catholic Relief Bill. It is 56 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. true that I concurred with our incumbent in getting up a petition against the Reform Bill, but I did not state my reasons. The weak points in that Bill are — a — too palpable, and I fancy you and I should not differ much on that head. The fact is, when 1 knew that you were to come back to us, I kept my- self in reserve, though I was much pressed by the friends of Sir James Clement, the Ministerial candi- date, who is — " " However, you will act for me, — that 's settled ? " said Harold. " Certainly," said Jermyn, inwardly irritated by Harold's rapid manner of cutting him short. " Which of the Liberal candidates, as they call themselves, has the better chance, eh ? " " I was going to observe that Sir James Clement has not so good a chance as Mr. Garstin, supposing that a third Liberal candidate presents himself. There are two senses in which a politician can be liberal," — here Mr. Jermyn smiled, — " Sir James Clement is a poor baronet, hoping for an appoint- ment, and can't be expected to be liberal in that wider sense which commands majorities." " I wish this man were not so much of a talker," thought Harold ; " he '11 bore me. We shall see," he said aloud, " what can be done in the way of combination. I '11 come down to your office after one o'clock if it will suit you ? " " Perfectly." " Ah, and you '11 have all the lists and papers and necessary information ready for me there. I must get up a dinner for the tenants, and we can invite whom we like besides the tenants. Just now, I 'm going over one of the farms on hand with the bailiff. By the way, that 's a desperately bad FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 57 business, having three farms unlet, — how comes that about, eh ? " " That is precisely what I wanted to say a few words about to you. You have observed already how strongly Mrs. Transome takes certain things to heart. You can imagine that she has been severely tried in many ways. Mr. Transome's want of health ; Mr. Durfey's habits — a — " " Yes, yes." " She is a woman for whom I naturally entertain the highest respect, and she has had hardly any gratification for many years, except the sense of having affairs to a certain extent in her own hands. She objects to changes ; she will not have a new style of tenants ; she likes the old stock of farmers who milk their own cows, and send their younger daughters out to service : all this makes it difficult to do the best with the estate. I am aware things are not as they ought to be, for, in point of fact, an improved agricultural management is a matter in which I take considerable interest, and the farm which I myself hold on the estate you will see, I think, to be in a superior condition. But Mrs. Transome is a woman of strong feeling, and I would urge you, my dear sir, to make the changes which you have, but which I had not, the right to insist on, as little painful to her as possible." " I shall know what to do, sir, never fear," said Harold, much offended. " You will pardon, I hope, a perhaps undue free- dom of suggestion from a man of my age, who has been so long in a close connection with the family affairs — a — I have never considered that connec- tion simply in the light of business — a — " " Damn him, I '11 soon let him know that / do," 53 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. thought Harold. But in proportion as he found Jerinyn's manners annoying, he felt the necessity of controlling himself. He despised all persons who defeated their own projects by the indulgence of momentary impulses. " I understand, I understand," he said aloud. " You Ve had more awkward business on your hands than usually falls to the share of a family lawyer. We shall set everything right by degrees. But now as to the canvassing. I 've made arrange- ments with a first-rate man in London, who under- stands these matters thoroughly, — a solicitor of course, — he has carried no end of men into Parlia- ment. I '11 engage him to meet us at Dumeld — say when ? " The conversation after this was driven carefully clear of all angles, and ended with determined amicableness. When Harold, in his ride an hour or two afterwards, encountered his uncle shoulder- ing a gun, and followed by one black and one liver- spotted pointer, his muscular person with its red eagle face set off by a velveteen jacket and leather leggings, Mr. Lingon's first question was, — " Well, lad, how have you got on with Jermyn ? " " Oh, I don't think I shall like the fellow. He 's a sort of amateur gentleman. But I must make use of him. I expect whatever I get out of him will only be something short of fair pay for what he has got out of us. But I shall see." " Ay, ay, use his gun to bring down your game, and after that beat the thief with the butt-end. That 's wisdom and justice and pleasure all in one, — talking between ourselves as uncle and nephew. But I say, Harold, 1 was going to tell you, now I come to think of it, this is rather a nasty business, FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 59 your calling yourself a Radical. I 've been turning it over in after-dinner speeches, but it looks awk- ward, — it 's not what people are used to, — it wants a good deal of Latin to make it go down. I shall be worried about it at the sessions, and I can think of nothing neat enough to carry about in my pocket by way of answer." " Nonsense, uncle ! I remember what a good speechifier you always were ; you '11 never be at a loss. You only want a few more evenings to think of it." " But you '11 not be attacking the Church and the institutions of the country, — you '11 not be going those lengths ; you '11 keep up the bulwarks, and so on, eh ? " "No, I sha'n't attack the Church, only the in- comes of the bishops, perhaps, to make them eke out the incomes of the poor clergy." "Well, well, I have no objection to that. No- body likes our Bishop : he 's all Greek and greedi- ness ; too proud to dine with his own father. You may pepper the bishops a little. But you '11 re- spect the Constitution handed down, etc., — and you '11 rally round the throne, — and the King, God bless him, and the usual toasts, eh ? " " Of course, of course. I '111 a Radical only in rooting out abuses." " That 's the word I wanted, my lad ! " said the Vicar, slapping Harold's knee. " That 's a spool to wind a speech on. ' Abuses ' is the very word ; and if anybody shows himself offended, he '11 put the cap on for himself." " I remove the rotten timbers," said Harold, in- wardly amused, " and substitute fresh oak, that 's all" 60 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Well done, my boy ! By George, you '11 be a speaker ! But I say, Harold, I hope you 've got a little Latin left. This young Debarry is a tremen- dous fellow at the classics, and walks on stilts to any length. He 's one of the new Conservatives. Old Sir Maximus does n't understand him at all." " That won't do at the hustings," said Harold. " He '11 get knocked off his stilts pretty quickly there." " Bless me ! it 's astonishing how well you 're up in the affairs of the country, my boy. But rub up a few quotations, — 'Quod turpe bonis decebat Cris- pimim,' — and that sort of thing, — just to show Debarry what you could do if you liked. But you want to ride on ? " " Yes ; I have an appointment at Treby. Good- by." " He 's a cleverish chap," muttered the Vicar, as Harold rode away. " When he 's had plenty of English exercise, and brought out his knuckle a bit, he '11 be a Linton a^ain as he used to be. I must go and see how Arabella takes his being a Badical. It 's a little awkward ; but a clergyman must keep peace in a family. Confound it ! I 'm not bound to love Toryism better than my own flesh and blood, and the manor I shoot over. That's a heathenish, Brutus-like sort of thing, as if Provi- dence could n't take care of the country without my quarrelling with my own sister's son 1 " CHAPTEE III. 'T was town, yet country too ; you felt the warmth Of clustering houses in the wiutry time ; Supped with a friend, and went by lantern home. Yet from your chamber window you could hear The tiny bleat of new-yeaned lambs, or see The children bend beside the hedgerow banks To pluck the primroses. Treby Magna, on which the Keforni Bill had thrust the new honour of being a polling-place, had been, at the beginning of the century, quite a typical old market-town, lying in pleasant sleepi- ness among green pastures, with a rush-fringed river meandering through the in. Its principal street had various handsome and tall-windowed brick houses with walled gardens behind them ; and at the end, where it widened into the market- place, there was the cheerful rough-stuccoed front of that excellent inn, the Marquis of Grauby, where the farmers put up their gigs, not only on fair and market days, but on exceptional Sundays when they came to church. And the church was one of those fine old English structures worth trav- elling to see, standing in a broad churchyard with a line of solemn yew-trees beside it, and lifting a majestic tower and spire far above the red-and- purple roofs of the town. It was not large enough to hold all the parishioners of a parish which stretched over distant villages and hamlets ; but then they were never so unreasonable as to wish 62 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. to be all in at once, and had never complained that the space of a large side-chapel was taken up by the tombs of the Debarrys, and shut in by a hand- some iron screen. For when the black Benedictines ceased to pray and chant in this church, when the Blessed Virgin and Saint Gregory were expelled, the Debarrys, as lords of the manor, naturally came next to Providence and took the place of the saints. Long before that time, indeed, there had been a Sir Maxi- mus Debarry who had been at the fortifying of the old castle, which now stood in ruins in the midst of the green pastures, and with its sheltering wall towards the north made an excellent straw-yard for the pigs of Wace & Co., brewers of the celebrated Treby beer. Wace & Co. did not stand alone in the town as prosperous traders on a large scale, to say nothing of those who had retired from business ; and in no country town of the same small size as Treby was there a larger proportion of families who had handsome sets of china without handles, heredi- tary punch-bowls, and large silver ladles with a Queen Anne's guinea in the centre. Such people naturally took tea and supped together frequently ; and as there was no professional man or tradesman in Treby who was not connected by business, if not by blood, with the farmers of the district, the richer sort of these were much invited, and gave invita- tions in their turn. They played at whist, ate and drank generously, praised Mr. Pitt and the war as keeping up prices and religion, and were very hu- morous about each other's property, having much the same coy pleasure in allusions to their secret ability to purchase, as blushing lasses sometimes have in jokes about their secret preferences. The Ptector was always of the Debarry family, associated only FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 63 with county people, and was much respected for his affability ; a clergyman who would have taken tea with the townspeople would have given a dan- gerous shock to the mind of a Treby Churchman. Such was the old-fashioned, grazing, brewing, wool-packing, cheese-loading life of Treby Magna, until there befell new conditions, complicating its relation with the rest of the world, and gradually awakening in it that higher consciousness which is known to bring higher pains. First came the canal ; next, the working of the coal-mines at Sproxton, two miles off the town ; and thirdly, the discovery of a saline spring, which suggested to a too con- structive brain the possibility of turning Treby Magna into a fashionable watering-place. So daring an idea was not originated by a native Trebian, but by a young lawyer who came from a distance, knew the dictionary by heart, and was probably an ille- gitimate son of somebody or other. The idea, al- though it promised an increase of wealth to the town, was not well received at first; ladies ob- jected to seeing "objects" drawn about in hand- carriages, the doctor foresaw the advent of unsound practitioners, and most retail tradesmen concurred with him that new doings were usually for the ad- vantage of new people. The more unanswerable reasoners urged that Treby had prospered without baths, and it was yet to be seen how it would pros- per with them ; while a report that the proposed name for them was Bethesda Spa, threatened to give the whole affair a blasphemous aspect. Even Sir Maximus Debarry, who was to have an unpre- cedented return for the thousands he would lay out on a pump-room and hotel, regarded the thing as a little too new, and held back for some time. But 64 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. the persuasive powers of the young lawyer, Mr. Matthew Jermyu, together with the opportune opening of a stone-quarry, triumphed at last ; the handsome buildings were erected, an excellent guide-book and descriptive cards, surmounted by vignettes, were printed, and Treby Magna became conscious of certain facts in its own history of which it had previously been in contented ignorance. But it was all in vain. The Spa, from some mysterious reason, did not succeed. Some attrib- uted the failure to the coal-mines and the canal; others to the peace, which had had ruinous effects on the country ; and others, who disliked Jermyn, to the original folly of the plan. Among these last was Sir Maximus himself, who never forgave the too persuasive attorney ; it was Jermyn's fault not only that a useless hotel had been built, but that he, Sir Maximus, being straitened for money, had at last let the building, with the adjacent land lying on the river, on a long lease, on the supposi- tion that it was to be turned into a benevolent college, and had seen himself subsequently power- less to prevent its being turned into a tape manu- factory, — a bitter thing to any gentleman, and especially to the representative of one of the oldest families in England. In this way it happened that Treby Magna gradually passed from being simply a respectable market-town, — the heart of a great rural district, where the trade was only such as had close rela- tions with the local landed interest, — and took on the more complex life brought by mines and manu- factures, which belong more directly to the great circulating system of the nation than to the local system to which they have been superadded ; and FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 65 in this way it was that Trebian Dissent gradually altered its character. Formerly it had been of a quiescent, well-to-do kind, represented architectur- ally by a small, venerable, dark-pewed chapel, built by Presbyterians, but long occupied by a sparse congregation of Independents, who were as little moved by doctrinal zeal as their church-going neighbours, and did not feel themselves deficient in religious liberty, inasmuch as they were not hindered from occasionally slumbering in their pews, and were not obliged to go regularly to the weekly prayer-meeting. But when stone-pits and coal-pits made new hamlets that threatened to spread up to the very town, when the tape-weavers came with their news -reading inspectors and book- keepers, the Independent chapel began to be filled with eager men and women, to whom the excep- tional possession of religious truth was the condi- tion which reconciled them to a meagre existence, and made them feel in secure alliance with the unseen but supreme rule of a world in which their own visible part was small. There were Dissenters in Treby now who could not be regarded by the Church people in the light of old neighbours to whom the habit of going to chapel was an innocent, unenviable inheritance along with a particular house and garden, a tanyard, or a grocery business, — Dissenters who in their turn, without meaning to be in the least abusive, spoke of the high-bred Eector as a blind leader of the blind. And Dissent was not the only thing that the times had altered; prices had fallen, poor-rates had risen, rent and tithe were not elastic enough, and the farmer's fat sorrow had become lean ; he began to speculate on causes, and to trace things back to that causeless VOL. I. — 5 66 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. mystery, the cessation of one-pound notes. Thus, when political agitation swept in a great current through the country, Treby Magna was prepared to vibrate. The Catholic Emancipation Bill opened the eyes of neighbours, and made them aware how very injurious they were to each other and to the welfare of mankind generally. Mr. Tiliot, the Church spirit-merchant, knew now that Mr. Nutt- w T ood, the obliging grocer, was one of those Dis- senters, Deists, Socinians, Papists, and Eadicals, who were in league to destroy the Constitution. A retired old London tradesman, who was believed to understand politics, said that thinking people must wish George the Third alive again in all his early vigour of mind ; and even the farmers became less materialistic in their view of causes, and referred much to the agency of the devil and the Irish Romans. The Rector, the Rev. Augustus Debarry, really a fine specimen of the old-fashioned aristo- cratic clergyman, preaching short sermons, under- standing business, and acting liberally about his tithe, had never before found himself in collision with Dissenters ; but now he began to feel that these people were a nuisance in the parish, that his brother Sir Maximus must take care lest they should get land to build more chapels, and that it might not have been a bad thing if the law had furnished him as a magistrate with a power of putting a stop to the political sermons of the In- dependent preacher, which in their way were as pernicious sources of intoxication as the beerhouses. The Dissenters, on their side, were not disposed to sacrifice the cause of truth and freedom to a tem- porizing mildness of language; but they defended themselves from the charge of religious indifference, FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 67 and solemnly disclaimed any lax expectations that Catholics were likely to be saved, — urging, on the contrary, that they were not too hopeful about Protestants who adhered to a bloated and worldly Prelacy. Thus Treby Magna, which had lived quietly through the great earthquakes of the French Eevolution and the Napoleonic wars, which had remained unmoved by the "Eights of Man," and saw little in Mr. Cobbett's " Weekly Kegister " except that he held eccentric views about potatoes, began at last to know the higher pains of a dim political consciousness ; and the development had been greatly helped by the recent agitation about the Eeform bill. Tory, Whig, and Eadical did not perhaps become clearer in their definition of each other ; but the names seemed to acquire so strong a stamp of honour or infamy, that definitions would only have weakened the impression. As to the short and easy method of judging opinions by the personal character of those who held them, it was liable to be much frustrated in Treby. It so hap- pened in that particular town that the Eeformers were not all of them large-hearted patriots or ardent lovers of justice ; indeed, one of them, in the very midst of the agitation, was detected in using un- equal scales, — a fact to which many Tories pointed with disgust as showing plainly enough, without further argument, that the cry for a change in the representative system was hollow trickery. Again, the Tories were far from being all oppressors, dis- posed to grind down the working classes into serf- dom ; and it was undeniable that the inspector at the tape manufactory, who spoke with much elo- quence on the extension of the suffrage, was a more tyrannical personage than open-handed Mr. Wace, 68 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. whose chief political tenet was that it was all nonsense giving men votes when they had no stake in the country. On the other hand, there were some Tories who gave themselves a great deal of leisure to abuse hypocrites, Eadicals, Dissenters, and atheism generally, but whose inflamed faces, theistic swearing, and frankness in expressing a wish to borrow, certainly did not mark them out strongly as holding opinions likely to save society. The Reformers had triumphed ; it was clear that the wheels were going whither they were pulling, and they were in fine spirits for exertion. But if they were pulling towards the country's ruin, there was the more need for others to hang on behind and get the wheels to stick if possible. In Treby, as elsewhere, people were told they must " rally " at the coming election ; but there was now a large number of waverers, — men of flexible, practical minds, who were not such bigots as to cling to any views when a good tangible reason could be urged against them ; while some regarded it as the most neighbourly thing to hold a little with both sides, and were not sure that they should rally or vote at all. It seemed an invidious thing to vote for one gentleman rather than another. These social changes in Treby parish are compar- atively public matters, and this history is chiefly concerned with the private lot of a few men and women ; but there is no private life which has not been determined by a wider public life, from the time when the primeval milkmaid had to wander with the wanderings of her clan, because the cow she milked was one of a herd which had made the pastures bare. Even in that conservatory existence where the fair Camellia is sighed for by the noble FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 69 young Pine-apple, neither of them needing to care about the frost or rain outside, there is a nether apparatus of hot-water pipes liable to cool down on a strike of the gardeners or a scarcity of coal. And the lives we are about to look back upon do not belong to those conservatory species ; they are rooted in the common earth, having to endure all the ordinary chances of past and present weather. As to the weather of 1832, the Zadkiel of that time had predicted that the electrical condition of the clouds in the political hemisphere would produce unusual perturbations in organic existence, and he would perhaps have seen a fulfilment of his remark- able prophecy in that mutual influence of dissimilar destinies which we shall see gradually unfolding itself. For if the mixed political conditions of Treby Magna had not been acted on by the passing of the Eeform Bill, Mr. Harold Transome would not have presented himself as a candidate for North Loamshire, Treby would not have been a polling- place, Mr. Matthew Jermyn would not have been on affable terms with a Dissenting preacher and his flock, and the venerable town would not have been placarded with handbills, more or less compliment- ary and retrospective, — conditions in this case essential to the " where " and the " what," without which, as the learned know, there can be no event whatever. For example, it was through these conditions that a young man named Felix Holt made a considerable difference in the life of Harold Transome, though nature and fortune seemed to have done what they could to keep the lots of the two men quite aloof from each other. Felix was heir to nothing better than a quack medicine ; his mother lived up a back 70 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. street in Treby Magna, and her sitting-room was ornamented with her best tea-tray and several framed testimonials to the virtues of Holt's Cathar- tic Lozenges and Holt's Restorative Elixir. There could hardly have been a lot less like Harold Tran- some's than this of the quack doctor's son, except in the superficial facts that he called himself a Radical, that he was the only son of his mother, and that he had lately returned to his home with ideas and resolves not a little disturbing to that mother's mind. But Mrs. Holt, unlike Mrs. Transome, was much disposed to reveal her troubles, and was not with- out a counsellor into whose ear she could pour them. On this 2d of September, when Mr. Harold Transome had had his first interview with Jermyn, and when the attorney went back to his office with new views of canvassing in his mind, Mrs. Holt had put on her bonnet as early as nine o'clock in the morning, and had gone to see the Rev. Rufus Lyon, minister of the Independent Chapel usually spoken of as " Malthouse Yard." CHAPTEE IV. A pious and painful preacher. — Fuller. Mk. Lyon lived in a small house, not quite so good as the parish clerk's, adjoining the entry which led to the Chapel Yard. The new prosperity of Dissent at Treby had led to an enlargement of the chapel, which absorbed all extra funds and left none for the enlargement of the minister's income. He sat this morning, as usual, in a low upstairs room, called his study, which, by means of a closet capable of holding his bed, served also as a sleeping-room. The book-shelves did not suffice for his store of old books, which lay about him in piles so arranged as to leave narrow lanes between them ; for the min- ister was much given to walking about during his hours of meditation, and very narrow passages would serve for his small legs, unencumbered by any other drapery than his black silk stockings and the flexible though prominent bows of black ribbon that tied his knee-breeches. He was walking about now, with his hands clasped behind him, — an attitude in which his body seemed to bear about the same proportion to his head as the lower part of a stone Hermes bears to the carven image that crowns it. His face looked old and worn, yet the curtain of hair that fell from his bald crown and hung about his neck retained much of its original auburn tint, and his large, brown, short-sighted eyes were still 72 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. clear and bright. At the first glance every one thought him a very odd-looking, rusty old man ; the free-school boys often hooted after him, and called him " Eevelations ; " and to many respectable Church people old Lyon's little legs and large head seemed to make Dissent additionally preposterous. But he was too short-sighted to notice those who tittered at him, — too absent from the world of small facts and petty impulses in which titterers live. With Satan to argue against on matters of vital experience as well as of church government, with great texts to meditate on, which seemed to get deeper as he tried to fathom them, it had never occurred to him to reflect what sort of image his small person made on the retina of a light-minded beholder. The good Eufus had his ire and his egoism ; but they existed only as the red heat which gave force to his belief and his teaching. He was susceptible concerning the true office of deacons in the primitive Church, and his small ner- vous body was jarred from head to foot by the con- cussion of an argument to which he saw no answer. In fact, the only moments when he could be said to be really conscious of his body were when he trembled under the pressure of some agitating thought. He was meditating on the text for his Sunday morning sermon, "And all the people said, Amen," — a mere mustard-seed of a text, which had split at first only into two divisions, " What was said," and " Who said it ; " but these were growing into a many-branched discourse, and the preacher's eyes dilated, and a smile played about his mouth till, as his manner was, when he felt happily inspired, he had begun to utter his thoughts aloud in the varied FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 73 measure and cadence habitual to him, changing from a rapid but distinct undertone to a loud, em- phatic rallentando. " My brethren, do you think that great shout was raised in Israel by each man's waiting to say amen till his neighbours had said amen ? Do you think there will ever be a great shout for the right — the shout of a nation as of one man, rounded and whole, like the voice of the archangel that bound together all the listeners of earth and heaven — if every Christian of you peeps round to see what his neigh- bours in good coats are doing, or else puts his hat before his face that he may shout and never be heard ? But this is what you do : when the servant of God stands up to deliver his message, do you lay your souls beneath the Word as you set out your plants beneath the falling rain ? No ; one of you sends his eyes to all corners, he smothers his soul with small questions, ' What does brother Y. think ? ' ' Is this doctrine high enough for brother Z. ? ' ' Will the church members be pleased ? ' And another — " Here the door was opened ; and old Lyddy, the minister's servant, put in her head to say, in a tone of despondency, finishing with a groan, "Here is Mrs. Holt wanting to speak to you ; she says she comes out of season, but she 's in trouble." " Lyddy, 1 ' said Mr. Lyon, falling at once into a quiet conversational tone, " if you are wrestling with the enemy, let me refer you to Ezekiel the thirteenth and twenty-second, and beg of you not to groan. It is a stumbling-block and offence to my daughter; she would take no broth yesterday, because she said you had cried into it. Thus you cause the truth to be lightly spoken of, and make the enemy rejoice. If 74 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. your face-ache gives him an advantage, take a little warm ale with your meat, — I do not grudge the money." " If I thought my drinking warm ale would hinder poor dear Miss Esther from speaking light, — but she hates the smell of it." " Answer not again, Lyddy, but send up Mistress Holt to me." Lyddy closed the door immediately. "I lack grace to deal with these weak sisters," said the minister, again thinking aloud, and walk- ing. " Their needs lie too much out of the track of my meditations, and take me often unawares. Mis- tress Holt is another who darkens counsel by words without knowledge, and angers the reason of the natural man. Lord, give me patience. My sins were heavier to bear than this woman's folly. Come in, Mrs. Holt, — come in." He hastened to disencumber a chair of Matthew Henry's Commentary, and begged his visitor to be seated. She was a tall elderly woman, dressed in black, with a light-brown front and a black band over her forehead. She moved the chair a little, and seated herself in it with some emphasis, looking fixedly at the opposite wall with a hurt and argu- mentative expression. Mr. Lyon had placed him- self in the chair against his desk, and waited with the resolute resignation of a patient who is about to undergo an operation. But his visitor did not speak. " You have something on your mind, Mrs. Holt ? " he said, at last. " Indeed I have, sir, else I should n't be here." " Speak freely." " It 's well known to you, Mr. Lyon, that my Mr. Lyon and Mrs. Holt. FELIX HOLT, THE KADICAL. 75 husband, Mr. Holt, came from the north, and was a member in Malthouse Yard long before you began to be pastor of it, which was seven year ago last Michaelmas. It 's the truth, Mr. Lyon, and I 'm not that woman to sit here and say it if it was n't true." " Certainly, it is true." " And if my husband had been alive when you 'd come to preach upon trial, he 'd have been as good a judge of your gifts as Mr. Nuttwood or Mr. Mus- cat, though whether he 'd have agreed with some, that your doctrine was n't high enough, I can't say. For myself, I 've my opinion about high doctrine." " Was it my preaching you came to speak about ? " said the minister, hurrying in the question. " No, Mr. Lyon, I 'in not that woman. But this I will say, for my husband died before your time, that he had a wonderful gift in prayer, as the old members well know, if anybody likes to ask 'em, not believing my words ; and he believed himself that the receipt for the Cancer Cure, which I've sent out in bottles till this very last April before September as now is, and have bottles standing by me, — he believed it was sent to him in answer to prayer ; and nobody can deny it, for he prayed most regular, and read out of the green baize Bible." Mrs. Holt paused, appearing to think that Mr. Lyon had been successfully confuted, and should show himself convinced. " Has any one been aspersing your husband's character ? " said Mr. Lyon, with a slight initiative towards that relief of groaning for which he had reproved Lyddy. " Sir, they dared n't. For though he was a man of prayer, he didn't want skill and knowledge to 76 EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. find things out for himself; and that was what I used to say to my friends when they wondered at my marrying a man from Lancashire, with no trade nor fortune but what he'd got in his head. But my husband's tongue 'ud have been a fortune to anybody, and there was many a one said it was as good as a dose of physic to hear him talk ; not but what that got him into trouble in Lancashire, but he always said, if the worst came to the worst, he could go and preach to the blacks. But he did bet- ter than that, Mr. Lyon, for he married me ; and this I will say, that for age and conduct and managing — " " Mistress Holt," interrupted the minister, " these are not the things whereby we may edify one another. Let me beg of you to be as brief as you can. My time is not my own." "Well, Mr. Lyon, I've a right to speak to my own character ; and I 'm one of your congregation, though I 'in not a church member, for I was born in the General Baptist connection : and as for being saved without works, there \s a many, I dare say, can't do without that doctrine ; but I thank the Lord I never needed to put myself on a level with the thief on the cross. I 've done my duty, and more, if anybody comes to that ; for I 've gone without my bit of meat to make broth for a sick neighbour ; and if there 's any of the church mem- bers say they 've done the same, I 'd ask them if they had the sinking at the stomach as I have ; for I 've ever strove to do the right thing, and more, for good-natured I always was ; and I little thought, after being respected by everybody, I should come to be reproached by my own son. And my hus- band said, when he was a- dying, — ' Mary,' he said, FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 77 'the Elixir and the Pills and the Cure will support you, for they've a great name in all the country round, and you'll pray for a blessing on them.' And so I have done, Mr. Lyon ; and to say they 're not good medicines, when they 've been taken for fifty miles round by high and low and rich and poor, and nobody speaking against 'em but Dr. Lukin, it seems to me it's a-flying in the face of Heaven ; for if it was wrong to take the medicines, could n't the blessed Lord have stopped it ? " Mrs. Holt was not given to tears ; she was much sustained by conscious unimpeachableness, and by an argumentative tendency which usually checks the too great activity of the lachrymal gland ; never- theless her eyes had become moist, her fingers played on her knee in an agitated manner, and she finally plucked a bit of her gown and held it with great nicety between her thumb and finger. Mr. Lyon, however, by listening attentively, had begun partly to divine the source of her trouble. " Am I wrong in gathering from what you say, Mis- tress Holt, that your son has objected in some way to your sale of your late husband's medicines ? " " Mr. Lyon, he 's masterful beyond everything, and he talks more than his father did. I've got my reason, Mr. Lyon, and if anybody talks sense I can follow him ; but Felix talks so wild, and con- tradicts his mother. And what do you think lie says, after giving up his 'prenticeship, and going off to study at Glasgow, and getting through all the bit of money his father saved for his bringing-up, — what has all his learning come to ? He says I 'd better never open my Bible, for it 's as bad poison to me as the pills are to half the people as swallow 'em. You '11 not speak of this again, Mr. Lyon, — I don't 78 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. think ill enough of you to believe that. For I sup- pose a Christian can understand the word o' God without going to Glasgow, and there 's texts upon texts about ointment and medicine, and there 's one as might have been made for a receipt of my hus- band's, — it 's just as if it was a riddle, and Holt's Elixir was the answer." "Your son uses rash words, Mistress Holt," said the minister, " but it is quite true that we may err in giving a too private interpretation to the Scrip- ture. The word of God has to satisfy the larger needs of his people, like the rain and the sunshine, — which no man must think to be meant for his own patch of seed-ground solely. Will it not be well that I should see your son, and talk with him on these matters ? He was at chapel, I observed, and I suppose I am to be his pastor." " That was what I wanted to ask you, Mr. Lyon. For perhaps he '11 listen to you, and not talk you down as he does his poor mother. For after we 'd been to chapel, he spoke better of you than he does of most ; he said you was a fine old fellow, and an old-fashioned Puritan, — he uses dreadful language, Mr. Lyon ; but I saw he did n't mean you ill, for all that. He calls most folks' religion rottenness ; and yet another time he '11 tell me I ought to feel myself a sinner, and do God's will and not my own. But it 's my belief he says first one thing and then an- other only to abuse his mother. Or else he 's going off his head, and must be sent to a 'sylum. But if lie writes to the ' North Loamshire Herald ' first, to tell everybody the medicines are good for nothing, how can I ever keep him and myself ? " " Tell him I shall feel favoured if he will come ,-and see me this evening," said Mr. Lyon, not with- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 79 out a little prejudice in favour of the young man, whose language about the preacher in Malthouse Yard did not seem to him to be altogether dreadful. " Meanwhile, my friend, I counsel you to send up a supplication, which I shall not fail to offer also, that you may receive a spirit of humility and submission, so that you may not be hindered from seeing and following the Divine guidance in this matter by any false lights of pride and obstinacy. Of this more when I have spoken with your son." " I 'in not proud or obstinate, Mr. Lyon. I never did say I was everything that was bad, and I never will. And why this trouble should be sent on me above everybody else, — for I have n't told you all. He 's made himself a journeyman to Mr. Prowd the watchmaker, — after all this learning, — and he says he '11 go with patches on his knees, and he shall like himself the better. And as for his having little boys to teach, they '11 come in all weathers with dirty shoes. If it's madness, Mr. Lyon, it 's no use your talking to him." " We shall see. Perhaps it may even be the dis- guised working of grace within him. We must not judge rashly. Many eminent servants of God have been led by ways as strange." " Then I 'm sorry for their mothers, that 's all, Mr. Lyon ; and all the more if they 'd been well- spoken-on women. For not my biggest enemy, whether it 's he or she, if they '11 speak the truth, can turn round and say I 've deserved this trouble. And when everybody gets their due, and people's doings are spoke of on the house-tops, as the Bible says they will be, it '11 be known what I 've gone through with those medicines, — the pounding and the pouring, and the letting stand, and the weigh- — n o relation," said Annette, shaking her head. " He has been good to me." " How long have you lived with him ? " " More than a year." " Was he a preacher once ? " " Yes." " When did he leave off being a preacher ? " " Soon after he took care of me." " Is that his child ? " " Sir," said Annette, colouring indignantly, " I am a widow." The doctor, she thought, looked at her oddly ; but he asked no more questions. When the sick man was getting better, and able to enjoy invalid's food, he observed one day, while he was taking some broth, that Annette was looking at him ; he paused to look at her in return, and was struck with a new expression in her face, quite distinct from the merely passive sweetness which usually characterized it. She laid her little hand on his, which was now transparently thin, and said, " I am getting very wise ; I have sold some of the books to make money, - - the doctor told me FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 123 where ; and I have looked into the shops where they sell caps and bonnets and pretty things, and I can do all that, and get more money to keep us. And when you are well enough to get up, we will go out and be married — shall we not ? See ! and la petite " (the baby had never been named anything else) "shall call you Papa, — and then we shall never part." Mr. Lyon trembled. This illness — something else, perhaps — had made a great change in Annette. A fortnight after that they were married. The day before, he had ventured to ask her if she felt any difficulty about her religion, and if she would con- sent to have la petite baptized and brought up as a Protestant. She shook her head, and said very simply, — "No: in France, in other days, I would have minded; but all is changed. I never was fond of religion, but I knew it was right. J'amais les fieurs, les bah, la musique, et mon mari, qui etait beau. But all that is gone away. There is nothing of my religion in this country. But the good God must be here, for you are good ; I leave all to you." It was clear that Annette regarded her present life as a sort of death to the world, — an existence on a remote island where she had been saved from wreck. She was too indolent mentally, too little interested, to acquaint herself with any secrets of the isle. The transient energy, the more vivid con- sciousness and sympathy which had been stirred in her during Mr. Lyon's illness, had soon subsided into the old apathy to everything except her child. She withered like a plant in strange air ; and the three years of life that remained were but a slow and gentle death. Those three years were to Mr. Lyon 124 FELIX HOLT. THE RADICAL. a period of such self-suppression and life in another as few men know. Strange that the passion for this woman, which he felt to have drawn him aside from the right as much as if he had broken the most solemn vows — for that only was right to him which he held the best and highest — the passion for a being who had no glimpse of his thoughts in- duced a more thorough renunciation than he had ever known in the time of his complete devotion to his ministerial career. He had no flattery now, either from himself or the world ; he knew that he had fallen, and his world had forgotten him, or shook their heads at his memory. The only satis- faction he had was the satisfaction of his tenderness, — which meant untiring work, untiring patience, untiring wakefulness even to the dumb signs of feeling in a creature whom he alone cared for. The day of parting came, and he was left with little Esther as the one visible sign of that four years' break in his life. A year afterwards he entered the ministry again, and lived with the ut- most sparingness, that Esther might be so educated as to be able to get her own bread in case of his death. Her probable facility in acquiring French naturally suggested his sending her to a French school, which would give her a special advantage as a teacher. It was a Protestant school, and French Protestantism had the high recommendation of being non-Prelatical. It was understood that Esther would contract no Papistical superstitions ; and this was perfectly true ; but she contracted, as we see, a good deal of non-Papistical vanity. Mr. Lyon's reputation as a preacher and devoted pastor had revived ; but some dissatisfaction begin- ning to be felt by his congregation at a certain FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 125 laxity detected by them in his views as to the limits of salvation, which he had in one sermon even hinted might extend to unconscious recipients of mercy, he had found it desirable seven years ago to quit this ten years' pastorate and accept a call from the less important church in Malthouse Yard, Treby Magna. This was Eufus Lyon's history, at that time unknown in its fulness to any human being besides himself. We can perhaps guess what memories they were that relaxed the stringency of his doc- trine on the point of salvation. In the deepest of all senses his heart said, — " Though she he dead, yet let me think she lives, And feed my mind, that dies for want of her." CHAPTER VII. -1/. It was but yesterday you spoke him well, — You 've changed your mind so soon ? N. Not I, — 't is he That, changing to my thought, has changed my mind. No man puts rotten apples in his pouch Because their upper side looked fair to him. Constancy iu mistake is constant folly. The news that the rich heir of the Transomes was actually come back, and had been seen at Treby, was carried to some one else who had more reasons for being interested in it than the Eev. Eufus Lyon was yet conscious of having. It was owing to this that at three o'clock, two days afterwards, a carriage and pair, with coachman and footman in crimson and drab, passed through the lodge-gates of Transome Court. Inside there was a hale, good- natured-looking man of sixty, whose hands rested on a knotted stick held between his knees ; and a blue-eyed, well-featured lady, fat and middle-aged, — a mountain of satin, lace, and exquisite muslin embroidery. They were not persons of highly re- markable appearance, but to most Trebians they seemed absolutely unique, and likely to be known anywhere. If you had looked down on them from the box of Sampson's coach, he would have said, after lifting his hat, " Sir Maximus and his lady, — did you see ? " thinking it needless to add the surname. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 127 "We shall find her greatly elated, doubtless," Lady Debarry was saying. " She has been in the shade so long." "Ah, poor thing!" said Sir Maximus. "A fine woman she was in her bloom. I remember the first county ball she attended we were all ready to fight for the sake of dancing with her. I always liked her from that time, — I never swallowed the scandal about her myself." " If we are to be intimate with her," said Lady Debarry, " I wish you would avoid making such allusions, Sir Maximus. I should not like Selina and Harriet to hear them." "My dear, I should have forgotten all about the scandal, only you remind me of it sometimes," re- torted the Baronet, smiling, and taking out his snuff-box. " These sudden turns of fortune are often danger- ous to an excitable constitution," said Lady Debarry, not choosing to notice her husband's epigram. " Poor Lady Alicia Methurst got heart-disease from a sudden piece of luck, — the death of her uncle, you know. If Mrs. Transome were wise she would go to town — she can afford it now — and consult Dr. Truncheon. I should say myself he would order her digitalis ; I have often guessed exactly what a prescription would be. But it certainly was always one of her weak points to think that she understood medicine better than other people." " She 's a healthy woman enough, surely : see how upright she is, and she rides about like a girl of twenty." " She is so thin that she makes me shudder." " Pooh ! she 's slim and active ; women are not bid for by the pound." 128 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Pray don't be so coarse ! " Sir Maximus laughed, and showed his good teeth, which made his laughter very becoming. The car- riage stopped, and they were soon ushered into Mrs. Transome's sitting-room, where she was working at her worsted embroidery. A little daily embroidery had been a constant element in Mrs. Transome's life ; that soothing occupation of taking stitches to produce what neither she nor any one else wanted, was then the resource of many a well-born and un- happy woman. She received much warm congratulation and pressure of her hand with perfect composure of manner ; but she became paler than usual, and her hands turned quite cold. The Debarrys did not yet know what Harold's politics were. " Well, our lucky youngster is come in the nick of time," said Sir Maximus ; " if he '11 stand, he and Philip can run in harness together and keep out both the Whigs." " It is really quite a providential thing, — his re- turning just now," said Lady Debarry. " I could n't help thinking that something would occur to pre- vent Philip from having such a man as Peter Garstin for his colleague." " I call my friend Harold a youngster," said Sir Maximus ; " for, you know, I remember him only as he was when that portrait was taken." "That is a long while ago," said Mrs. Transome. " My son is much altered, as you may imagine." There was a confused sound of voices in the li- brary while this talk was going on. Mrs. Transome chose to ignore that noise ; but her face, from being pale, began to flush a little. " Yes, yes, on the outside, I dare say. But he was FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 129 a fine fellow, — I always liked him. And if anybody had asked me what I should choose for the good of the county, I could n't have thought of anything better than having a young Transome for a neighbour who will take an active part. The Transomes and the Debarrys were always on the right side together in old days. Of course he'll stand, — he has made up his mind to it ? " The need for an answer to this embarrassing ques- tion was deferred by the increase of inarticulate sounds accompanied by a bark from the library, and the sudden appearance at the tapestry-hung door- way of old Mr. Transome with a cord round his waist, playing a very poor-paced horse for a black- maned little boy about three years old, who was urging him on with loud encouraging noises and oc- casional thumps from a stick which he wielded with some difficulty. The old man paused with a vague, gentle smile at the doorway, while the Baronet got up to speak to him. Nimrod snuffed at his master's legs to ascertain that he was not hurt ; and the little boy, finding something new to be looked at, let go the cord and came round in front of the company, dragging his stick, and standing at a safe war-danc- ing distance as he fixed his great black eyes on Lady Debarry. " Dear me, what a splendid little boy, Mrs. Tran- some ! Why — it cannot be — can it be — that you have the happiness to be a grandmamma ? " " Yes ; that is my son's little boy." "Indeed!" said Lady Debarry, really amazed. " I never heard you speak of his marriage. He has brought you home a daughter-in-law, then ? " "No," said Mrs. Transome, coldly; " she is dead." " O-o-oh ! " said Lady Debarry, in a tone lucli- VOL. I. —9 130 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. crously undecided between condolence, satisfaction, and general mistiness. "How very singular — I mean that we should not have heard of Mr. Harold's marriage ! But he 's a charming little fellow : come to me, you round-cheeked cherub ! " The black eyes continued fixed as if by a sort of fascination on Lady Debarry's face, and her affable invitation was unheeded. At last, putting his head forward and pouting his lips, the cherub gave forth with marked intention the sounds " Nau-o-oom," many times repeated ; apparently they summed up his opinion of Lady Debarry, and may perhaps have meant " naughty old woman," but his speech was a broken, lisping polyglot of hazardous inter- pretation. Then he turned to pull at the Blenheim spaniel, which, being old and peevish, gave a little snap. " Go, go, Harry ; let poor Puff alone, — he '11 bite you," said Mrs. Transome, stooping to release her aged pet. Her words were too suggestive ; for Harry imme- diately laid hold of her arm with his teeth, and bit with all his might. Happily the stuffs upon it were some protection, but the pain forced Mrs. Transome to give a low cry ; and Sir Maximus, who had now turned to reseat himself, shook the little rascal off, whereupon he burst away and trotted into the li- brary again. " I fear you are hurt," said Lady Debarry, with sincere concern. " What a little savage ! Do have your arm attended to, my dear — I recommend fomentation — don't think of me." " Oh, thank you, it is nothing," said Mrs. Tran- some, biting her lip and smiling alternately ; " it will soon go off. The pleasures of being a grand- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 131 mamma, you perceive. The child has taken a dis- like to me ; but he makes quite a uew life for Mr. Transome, — they were playfellows at once." " Bless my heart ! " said Sir Maximus, " it is odd to think of Harold having been a family man so long. I made up my mind he was a young bachelor. What an old stager 1 am, to be sure ! And whom has he married ? I hope we shall soon have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Harold Transome." Sir Maximus, occupied with old Mr. Transome, had not overheard the previous conversation on that subject. " She is no longer living," Lady Debarry hastily interposed ; " but now, my dear Sir Maximus, we must not hinder Mrs. Transome from attending to her arm. I am sure she is in pain. Don't say another word, my dear, — we shall see you again, — you and Mr. Harold will come and dine with us on Thursday — say yes, only yes. Sir Maximus is longing to see him ; and Philip will be down." " Yes, yes ! " said Sir Maximus ; " he must lose no time in making Philip's acquaintance. Tell him Philip is a fine fellow, — carried everything before him at Oxford. And your son must be returned alons with him for North Loamshire. You said he meant to stand ? " " I will write and let you know if Harold has any engagement for Thursday ; he would of course be happy otherwise," said Mrs. Transome evading the question. " If not Thursday, the next day, — the very first day he can." The visitors left, and Mrs. Transome was almost glad of the painful bite which had saved her from being questioned further about Harold's politics. 1 32 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " This is tlie last visit I shall receive from them," she said to herself as the door closed behind them and she rang for Denner. " That poor creature is not happy, Sir Maximus," said Lady Debarry as they drove along. " Some- thing annoys her about her son. I hope there is nothing unpleasant in his character. Either he kept his marriage a secret from her, or she was ashamed of it. He is thirty-four at least by this time. After living in the East so long, he may have become a sort of person one would not care to be intimate with; and that savage boy, — he doesn't look like a lady's child." " Pooh, my dear," said Sir Maximus, " women think so much of those minutiae. In the present state of the country it is our duty to look at a man's position and politics. Philip and my brother are both of that opinion, and I think they know what's right, if any man does. We are bound to regard every man of our party as a public instrument, and to pull all together. The Tran- somes have always been a good Tory family, but it has been a cipher of late years. This young fellow coming back with a fortune to give the family a head and a position is a clear gain to the county ; and with Philip he '11 get into the right hands, — of course he wants guiding, having been out of the country so long. All we have to ask is, whether a man's a Tory, and will make a stand for the good of the country ? — that 's the plain English of the matter. And I do beg of you, my dear, to set aside all these gossiping niceties, and exert yourself, like a woman of sense and spirit as you are, to bring the right people together." Here Sir Maximus gave a deep cough, took out FELIX HOLT, THE "RADICAL. 133 his snuff-box, and tapped it ; he had made a serious marital speech, — an exertion to which he was rarely urged by anything smaller than a matter of con- science. And this outline of the whole duty of a Tory was matter of conscience with him ; though the " Duffield Watchman " had pointed expressly to Sir Maximus Debarry amongst others, in branding the co-operation of the Tories as a conscious selfish- ness and reckless immorality, which, however, would be defeated by the co-operation of all the friends of truth and liberty, who, the " Watchman " trusted, would subordinate all non-political differences in order to return representatives pledged to support the present Government. " I am sure, Sir Maximus," Lady Debarry an- swered, " you could not have observed that anything was wanting in my manners to Mrs. Transome." " No, no, my dear ; but I say this by way of caution. Never mind what was done at Smyrna, or whether Transome likes to sit with his heels tucked up. We may surely wink at a few tilings for the sake of the public interest, if God Almighty does ; and if he did n't, I don't know what would have become of the country, — Government could never have been carried on, and many a good battle would have been lost. That's the philosophy of the matter, and the common-sense too." Good Sir Maximus gave a deep cough and tapped his box again, inwardly remarking that if he had not been such a lazy fellow he might have made as good a figure as his son Philip. But at this point the carriage, which was rolling by a turn towards Treby Magna, passed a well- dressed man, who raised his hat to Sir Maximus, and called to the coachman to stop. 134 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Excuse me, Sir Maximus," said this personage, standing uncovered at the carriage-door, "but I have just learned something of importance at Treby, which I thought you would like to know as soon as possible." " Ah ! what 's that ? Something about Garstin or Clement ? " said Sir Maximus, seeing the other draw a poster from his pocket. " No ; rather worse, I fear you will think. A new Radical candidate. I got this by a stratagem from the printer's boy. They 're not posted yet." "A Radical!" said Sir Maximus, in a tone of incredulous disgust, as he took the folded bill. "What fool is he ? — he '11 have no chance." " They say he 's richer than Garstin." " Harold Transome ! " shouted Sir Maximus, as he read the name in three-inch letters. " I don't be- lieve it, — it 's a trick, it 's a squib ; why — why — we 've just been to his place — eh ? do you know any more ? Speak, sir, speak ; don't deal out your story like a damned mountebank, who wants to keep people gaping." " Sir Maximus, pray don't give way so," said Lady Debarry. " I 'm afraid there 's no doubt about it, sir," said Christian. " After getting the bill, I met Mr. La- bron's clerk, and he said he had just had the whole story from Jermyn's clerk. The Ram Inn is engaged already, and a committee is being made up. He says Jermyn goes like a steam-engine, when he has a mind, although he makes such long-winded speeches." " Jermyn be hanged for a two-faced rascal ! Tell Mitchell to drive on. It 's of no use to stay chat- tering here. Jump up on the box and go home with us. I may want you." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 135 "You see I was right, Sir Maximus," said the Baronet's wife ; " I had an instinct that we should find him an unpleasant person." " Fudge ! if you had such a fine instinct, why did you let us go to Transorne Court and make fools of ourselves ? " " Would you have listened to me ? But of course you will not have him to dine with you ? " " Dine with me ? I should think not. I 'd sooner he should dine off me. I see how it is, clearly enough. He has become a regular beast among those Mahometans, — he 's got neither reli- gion nor morals left. He can't know anything about English politics. He '11 go and cut his own nose off as a landholder, and never know. How- ever, he won't get in, — he '11 spend his money for nothing." " I fear he is a very licentious man," said Lady Debarry. " We know now why his mother seemed so uneasy. I should think she reflects a little, poor creature." " It 's a confounded nuisance we did n't meet Christian on our way, instead of coming back ; but better now than later. He 's an uncommonly adroit, useful fellow, that factotum of Philip's. I wish Phil would take my man and give me Chris- tian. I 'd make him house-steward ; he might re- duce the accounts a little." Perhaps Sir Maximus would not have been so sanguine as to Mr. Christian's economical virtues if he had seen that gentleman relaxing himself the same evening among the other distinguished depen- dants of the family and frequenters of the steward's room. But a man of Sir Maxiums's rank is like those antediluvian animals whom the system of 136 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. things condemned to carry such a huge hulk that they really could not inspect their bodily appurte- nance, and had no conception of their own tails : their parasites doubtless had a merry time of it, and often did extremely well when the high-bred saurian himself was ill at ease. Treby Manor, measured from the front saloon to the remotest shed, was as large as a moderate-sized village, and there were certainly more lights burning in it every evening, more wine, spirits, and ale drunk, more waste and more folly, than could be found in some large villages. There was fast revelry in the stew- ard's room, and slow revelry in the Scotch bailiff's room ; short whist, costume, and flirtation in the housekeeper's room, and the same at a lower price in the servants' hall ; a select Olympian feast in the private apartment of the cook, who was a much grander person than her ladyship, and wore gold and jewellery to a vast amount of suet ; a gambling group in the stables, and the coachman, perhaps the most innocent member of the establishment, tip- pling in majestic solitude by a fire in the harness- room. For Sir Maximus, as every one said, was a gentleman of the right sort, condescended to no mean inquiries, greeted his head-servants with a " good-evening, gentlemen," when he met them in the Park, and only snarled in a subdued way when he looked over the accounts, willing to endure some personal inconvenience in order to keep up the institutions of the country, to maintain his heredi- tary establishment, and do his duty in that station of life — the station of the long-tailed saurian — to which it had pleased Providence to call him. The focus of brilliancy at Treby Manor that even- ing was in no way the dining-room, where Sir FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 137 Maximus sipped his port under some mental de- pression, as he discussed with his brother, the Kev- erend Augustus, the sad fact that one of the oldest names in the county was to be on the wrong side, — not in the drawing-room, where Miss Debarry and Miss Selina, quietly elegant in their dress and manners, were feeling rather dull than otherwise, having finished Mr. Bulwer's " Eugene Aram," and being thrown back on the last great prose work of Mr. Southey, while their mamma slumbered a little on the sofa. No ; the centre of eager talk and enjoyment was the steward's room, where Mr. Scales, house-steward and head-butler, a man most solicitous about his boots, wristbands, the roll of his whiskers, and other attributes of a gentleman, distributed cigars, cognac, and whiskey to various colleagues and guests who were discussing, with that freedom of conjecture which is one of our in- alienable privileges as Britons, the probable amount of Harold Transome's fortune, concerning which fame had already been busy long enough to have acquired vast magnifying power. The chief part in this scene was undoubtedly Mr. Christian's, although he had hitherto been comparatively silent; but he occupied two chairs with so much grace, throwing his right leg over the seat of the second, and resting his right hand on the back ; he held his cigar and displayed a splendid seal-ring with such becoming nonchalance, and had his gray hair arranged with so much taste, — that experienced eyes would at once have seen even the great Scales himself to be but a secondary character. "Why," said Mr. Crowder, — an old respectable tenant, tie nigh much in arrear as to his rent, who 138 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. condescended frequently to drink in the steward's room for the sake of the conversation, — " why, I suppose they get money so fast in the East, — it 's wonderful. Why," he went on, with a hesitating look towards Mr. Scales, " this Transome has p'r'aps got a matter of a hundred thousand." " A hundred thousand, my dear sir ! fiddlestick's end of a hundred thousand," said Mr. Scales, with a contempt very painful to be borne by a modest man. " Well," said Mr. Crowder, giving way under tor- ture, as the all-knowing butler puffed and stared at him, "perhaps not so much as that." " Not so much, sir ! I tell you that a hundred thousand pounds is a bagatelle." " Well, I know it 's a big sum," said Mr. Crowder, deprecatingly. Here there was a general laugh. All the other intellects present were more cultivated than Mr. Crowder's. "Bagatelle is the French for trifle, my friend," said Mr. Christian. " Don't talk over people's heads so, Scales. I shall have hard work to understand you myself soon." " Come, that 's a good one," said the head-gar- dener, who was a ready admirer ; " I should like to hear the thing you don't understand, Christian." " He 's a first-rate hand at sneering," said Mr. Scales, rather nettled. " Don't be waspish, man. I '11 ring the bell for lemons, and make some punch. That 's the thing for putting people up to the unknown tongues," said Mr. Christian, starting up, and slapping Scales's shoulder as he passed him. " What I mean, Mr. Crowder, is this." Here Mr. Scales paused to puff, and pull down his waistcoat FELTX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 139 in a gentlemanly manner, and drink. He was wont in this way to give his hearers time for meditation. "Come, then, speak English; I'm not against being taught," said the reasonable Crowder. " What I mean is, that in a large way of trade a man turns his capital over almost as soon as he can turn himself. Bless your soul ! I know some- thing about these matters, eh, Brent ? " " To be sure you do, — few men more," said the gardener, who was the person appealed to. " Not that I 've had anything to do with commer- cial families myself. I 've those feelings that I look to other things besides lucre. But I can't sav that I 've not been intimate with parties who have been less nice than I am myself ; and knowing what I know, I should n't wonder if Transome had as much as five hundred thousand. Bless your soul, sir} people who get their money out of land are as long scraping five pounds together as your trading men are in turning five pounds into a hundred." " That 's a wicked thing, though," said Mr. Crow- der, meditatively. " However," he went on, retreat- ing from this difficult ground, " trade or no trade, the Transomes have been poor enough this many a long year. I 've a brother a tenant on their estate, — I ought to know a little bit about that." " They 've kept up no establishment at all," said Mr. Scales, with disgust. " They 've even let their kitchen gardens. I suppose it was the eldest son's gambling. I 've seen something of that. A man who has always lived in first-rate families is likely to know a thing or two on that subject." " Ah, but it was n't gambling did the first mis- 140 EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. chief," said Mr. Crowder, with a slight smile, feel- ing that it was his turn to have some superiority. " New-comers don't know what happened in this country twenty and thirty years ago. I 'm turned fifty myself, and my father lived under Sir Maxum's father. But if anybody from London can tell me more than I know about this country-side, I 'm willing to listen." "What was it, then, if it wasn't gambling ?" said Mr. Scales, with some impatience. " / don't pre- tend to know." " It was law, — law, — that 's what it was. Not but what the Transomes always won." "And always lost," said the too ready Scales. " Yes, yes ; I think we all know the nature of law." " There was the last suit of all made the most noise, as I understood," continued Mr. Crowder ; " but it was n't tried hereabout. They said there was a deal o' false swearing. Some young man pretended to be the true heir, — let me see, — I can't justly remember the names, — he'd got two. He swore he was one man, and they swore he was another. However, Lawyer Jermyn won it, — they say he 'd win a game against the Old One himself, — and the young fellow turned out to be a scamp. Stop a bit, — his name was Scaddon, — Henry Scaddon." Mr. Christian here let a lemon slip from his hand into the punch -bowl with a plash which sent some of the nectar into the company's faces. " Hallo ! What a bungler I am ! " he said, look- ing as if he were quite jarred by this unusual awk- wardness of his. " Go on with your tale, Mr. Crowder, --a scamp nan 1 .'''! Henry Scaddon." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 141 " Well, that 's the tale," said Mr. Crowder. " He was never seen nothing of any more. It was a deal talked of at the time, — and I 've sat by ; and my father used to shake his head ; and always when this Mrs. Transome was talked of, he used to shake his head, and say she carried things with a high hand once. But, Lord ! it was before the battle of Waterloo, and I 'm a poor hand at tales ; I don't see much good in 'em myself, — but if anybody 11 tell me a cure for the sheep-rot I '11 thank him." Here Mr. Crowder relapsed into smoking and silence, a little discomfited that the knowledge of which he had been delivered had turned out rather a shapeless and insignificant birth. " Well, well, bygones should be bygones ; there are secrets in most good families," said Mr. Scales, winking, " and this Young Transome, coming back with a fortune to keep up the establishment, and have things done in a decent and gentlemanly way, — it would all have been right if he'd not been this sort of Eadical madman. But now he 's done for himself. I heard Sir Maximus say at dinner that he would be excommunicated ; and that 's a pretty strong word, I take it." " What does it mean, Scales ? " said Mr. Christian, who loved tormenting. " Ay, what 's the meaning ? " insisted Mr. Crow- der, encouraged by finding that even Christian was in the dark. " Well, it 's a law term, — speaking in a figurative sort of way, — meaning that a Eadical was no gentleman." " Perhaps it 's partly accounted for by his getting his money so fast and in foreign countries," said Mr. Crowder, tentatively. " It's reasonable to think 142 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. he 'd be against the land and this country, — eh, Sircome ? " Sircome was an eminent miller who had con- siderable business transactions at the Manor, and appreciated Mr. Scales's merits at a handsome percentage on the yearly account. He was a highly honourable tradesman, but in this and in other matters submitted to the institutions of his country ; for great houses, as he observed, must have great butlers. He replied to his friend Crow- der sententiously, — " I say nothing. Before I bring words to market, I should like to see 'em a bit scarcer. There 's the land and there 's trade, — I hold with both. I swim with the -stream." " Hey-day, Mr. Sircome ! that 's a Eadical maxim," said Mr. Christian, who knew that Mr. Sircome's last sentence was his favourite formula. " I advise you to give it up, else it will injure the quality of your flour." " A Radical maxim ! " said Mr. Sircome, in a tone of angry astonishment. " I should like to hear you prove that. It 's as old as my grandfather, anyhow." " I '11 prove it in one minute," said the glib Christian. " Reform has set in by the will of the majority, — that 's the rabble, you know ; and the respectability and good sense of the country, which are in the minority, are afraid of Reform running on too fast. So the stream must be running towards Reform and Radicalism ; and if you swim with it, Mr. Sircome, you 're a Reformer and a Radical, and your flour is objectionable, and not full weight, — and being tried by Scales, will be found wanting." There was a roar of laughter. This pun upon ;Scales was highly appreciated by every one except EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 143 the miller and the butler. The latter pulled down his waistcoat, and puffed and stared in rather an excited manner. Mr. Christian's wit, in general, seemed to him a poor kind of quibbling. " What a fellow you are for fence, Christian ! " said the gardener. " Hang me, if I don't think you 're up to everything." " That 's a compliment you might pay Old Nick, if you come to that," said Mr. Sircome, who was in the painful position of a man deprived of his formula. " Yes, yes," said Mr. Scales ; " I 'm no fool myself, and could parry a thrust if I liked ; but I should n't like it to be said of me that I was up to everything. I Tl keep a little principle, if you please." " To be sure," said Christian, ladling out the punch. " What would justice be without Scales ? " The laughter was not quite so full-throated as before. Such excessive cleverness was a little Satanic. "A joke's a joke among gentlemen," said the butler, getting exasperated ; " I think there has been quite liberties enough taken with my name. But if you must talk about names, I 've heard of a party before now calling himself a Christian, and being anything but it." " Come, that 's beyond a joke," said the surgeon's assistant, — a fast man, whose chief scene of dissi- pation was the Manor. " Let it drop, Scales." " Yes, I dare say it 's beyond a joke. I 'm not a harlequin to talk nothing but jokes. I leave that to other Christians, who are up to everything, and have been everywhere, — to the hulks, for what I know ; and more than that, they come from no- body knows where, and try to worm themselves 144 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. into gentlemen's confidence, to the prejudice of their betters." There was a stricter sequence in Mr. Scales's angry eloquence than was apparent, — some chief links being confined to his own breast, as is often the case in energetic discourse. The company were in a state of expectation. There was something be- hind worth knowing, and something before them worth seeing. In the general decay of other fine British pugnacious sports, a quarrel between gen- tlemen was all the more exciting ; and though no one would himself have liked to turn on Scales, no one was sorry for the chance of seeing him put down. But the amazing Christian was unmoved. He had taken out his handkerchief, and was rubbing his lips carefully. After a slight pause he spoke with perfect coolness : — " I don't intend to quarrel with you, Scales. Such talk as this is not profitable to either of us. It makes you purple in the face, — you are apoplectic, you know, — and it spoils good company. Better tell a few fibs about me behind my back, — it will heat you less, and do me more harm. I '11 leave you to it ; I shall go and have a game at whist with the ladies." As the door closed behind the questionable Christian, Mr. Scales was in a state of frustration that prevented speech. Every one was rather embarrassed. "That's a most uncommon sort o' fellow," said Mr. Crowder, in an undertone, to his next neigh- hour, the gardener. " Why, Mr. Philip picked him up in foreign parts, did n't he ? " " He was a courier," said the gardener. " He 's had a deal of experience. And I believe, by what FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 145 I can make out, — for he 's been pretty free with me sometimes, — there was a time when he was in that rank of life that he fought a duel." " Ah ! that makes him such a cool chap," said Mr. Crowder. " He 's what I call an overbearing fellow," said Mr. Sircome, also sotto voce, to his next neighbour, Mr. Filmore, the surgeon's assistant. " He runs you down with a sort of talk that 's neither here nor there. He's got a deal too many samples in his pocket for me." " AH I know is, he 's a wonderful hand at cards," said Mr. Filmore, whose whiskers and shirt-pin were quite above the average. " I wish I could play ecarte as he does ; it 's beautiful to see him ; he can make a man look pretty blue, — he '11 empty his pocket for him in no time." " That 's none to his credit," said Mr. Sircome. The conversation had in this way broken up into tete-a-tete, and the hilarity of the evening might be considered a failure. Still the punch was drunk, the accounts were duly swelled, and notwithstand- ing the innovating spirit of the time. Sir Maximus Debarry's establishment was kept up in a sound, hereditary British manner. VOL. I. — 10 CHAPTEE VIII. Rumour doth double like the voice and echo. Shakespeare. The mind of a man is as a country which was once open to squatters, who have bred and multiplied and become masters of the land. But then happeneth a time when new and hungry comers dispute the land ; and there is trial of strength, and the stronger wins. Nevertheless the first squatters be they who have prepared the ground, and the crops to the end will be sequent (though chiefly on the nature of the soil, as of light sand, mixed loam, or heavy clay, yet) somewhat on the primal labour and sowing. That talkative maiden, Rumour, though in the in- terest of art she is figured as a youthful winged beauty with flowing garments, soaring above the heads of men, and breathing world-thrilling news through a gracefully curved trumpet, is in fact a very old maid, who puckers her silly face by the fireside, and really does no more than chirp a wrong guess or a lame story into the ear of a fellow-gossip ; all the rest of the work attributed to her is done by the ordinary working of those passions against which men pray in the Litany, with the help of a plentiful stupidity against which we have never yet had any authorized form of prayer. When Mr. Scales's strong need to make an im- pressive figure in conversation, together with his very slight need of any other premise than his own sense of his wide general knowledge and probable infallibility, led him to specify five hundred thou- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 147 sand as the lowest admissible amount of Harold Transome's commercially acquired fortune, it was not fair to put this down to poor old Miss Eumour, who had only told Scales that the fortune was con- siderable. And again, when the curt Mr. Sircome found occasion at Treby to mention the five hundred thousand as a fact that folks seemed pretty sure about, this expansion of the butler into " folks " was entirely due to Mr. Sircome's habitual preference for words which could not be laid hold of or give people a handle over him. It was in this simple way that the report of Harold Transome's fortune spread and was magnified, adding much lustre to his opinions in the eyes of Liberals, and compelling even men of the opposite party to admit that it increased his eligibility as a member for North Loamshire. It was observed by a sound thinker in these parts that property was ballast ; and when once the aptness of that metaphor had been per- ceived, it followed that a man was not fit to navigate the sea of politics without a great deal of such ballast ; and that, rightly understood, whatever in- creased the expense of election, inasmuch as it virtually raised the property qualification, was an unspeakable boon to the country. Meanwhile the fortune that was getting larger in the imagination of constituents was shrinking a little in the imagination of its owner. It was hardly more than a hundred and fifty thousand ; and there were not only the heavy mortgages to be paid off, but also a large amount of capital was needed in order to repair the farm-buildings all over the es- tate, to carry out extensive draining, and make allowances to incoming tenants, which might re- move the difficulty of newly letting the farms in 148 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. a time of agricultural depression. The farms actu- ally tenanted were held by men who had begged hard to succeed their fathers in getting a little poorer every year, on land which was also getting poorer, where the highest rate of increase was in the arrears of rent, and where the master, in crushed hat and corduroys, looked pitiably lean and care- worn by the side of pauper labourers, who showed that superior assimilating power often observed to attend nourishment by the public money. Mr. Goffe, of Babbit's End, had never had it explained to him that, according to the true theory of rent, land must inevitably be given up when it would not yield a profit equal to the ordinary rate of in- terest ; so that from want of knowing what was inevitable, and not from a Titanic spirit of opposi- tion, he kept on his land. He often said of himself, with a melancholy wipe of his sleeve across his brow, that he " did n't know which-a-way to turn ; " and he would have been still more at a loss on the subject if he had quitted Rabbit's End with a wagon- ful of furniture and utensils, a file of receipts, a wife with five children, and a shepherd dog in low spirits. It took no long time for Harold Transome to discover this state of things, and to see, moreover, that, except on the demesne immediately around the house, the timber had been mismanaged. The woods had been recklessly thinned, and there had been insufficient planting. He had not yet thor- oughly investigated the various accounts kept by his mother, by Jermyn, and by Banks the bailiff ; but what had been done with the large sums which had been received for timber was a suspicious mystery to him. He observed that the farm held FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 149 by Jermyn was in first-rate order, that a good deal had been spent on the buildings, and that the rent had stood unpaid. Mrs. Transome had taken an opportunity of saying that Jermyn had had some of the mortgage-deeds transferred to him, and that his rent was set against so much interest. Harold had only said, in his careless yet decisive way: "Oh, Jermyn be hanged ! It seems to me if Durfey had n't died and made room for me, Jermyn would have ended by coming to live here, and you would have had to keep the lodge and open the gate for his carriage. But I shall pay him off — mortgages and all — by and by. I '11 owe him nothing, — not even a curse." Mrs. Transome said no more. Harold did not care to enter fully into the subject with his mother. The fact that she had been active in the management of the estate — had ridden about it continually, had busied herself with accounts, had been head-bailiff of the vacant farms, and had yet allowed things to go wrong — was set down by. him simply to the general futility of women's attempts to transact men's business. He did not want to say anything to annoy her ; he was only determined to let her understand, as quietly as possible, that she had better cease all interference. Mrs. Transome did understand this ; and it was very little that she dared to say on business, though there was a fierce struggle of her anger and pride with a dread which was nevertheless supreme. As to the old tenants, she only observed, on hearing Harold burst forth about their wretched condition, " that with the estate so burthened, the yearly loss by arrears could better be borne than the outlay and sacrifice necessary in order to let the farms anew." "I was really capable of calculating, Harold," she 150 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. ended, with a touch of bitterness. " It seems easy to deal with farmers and their affairs when you only see them in print, I dare say ; but it 's not quite so easy when you live among them. You have only to look at Sir Maximus's estate ; you will see plenty of the same thing. The times have been dreadful, and old families like to keep their old tenants. But I dare say that is Toryism." " It 's a hash of odds and ends, if that is Toryism, my dear mother. However, I wish you had kept three more old tenants ; for then I should have had three more fifty-pound voters. And, in a hard run, one may be beaten by a head. But," Harold added, smiling, and handing her a ball of worsted which had fallen, " a woman ought to be a Tory, and graceful and handsome like you. I should hate a woman who took up my opinions and talked for me. I 'm an Oriental, you know. I say, mother, shall we have this room furnished with rose-colour ? I notice that it suits your bright gray hair." Harold thought it was only natural that his mother should have been in a sort of subjection to Jermyn throughout the awkward circumstances of the family. It was the way of women, and all weak minds, to think that what they had been used to was inalterable, and any quarrel with a man who managed private affairs was necessarily a formidable thing. He himself was proceeding very cautiously, and preferred not even to know too much just at present, lest a certain personal antipathy he was con- scious of towards Jermyn, and an occasional liability to exasperation should get the better of a calm and clear-sighted resolve not to quarrel with the man while he could be of use. Harold would have been disgusted with himself if he had helped to frustrate FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 151 his own purpose. And his strongest purpose now was to get returned for Parliament, to make a figure there as a Liberal member, and to become on all grounds a personage of weight in North Loamshire. How Harold Transome came to be a Liberal in opposition to all the traditions of his family, was a more subtle inquiry than he had ever cared to follow out. The newspapers undertook to explain it. The " North Loamshire Herald " witnessed, with a grief and disgust certain to be shared by all persons who were actuated by wholesome British feeling, an ex- ample of defection in the inheritor of a family name which in times past had been associated with at- tachment to right principle, and with the mainte- nance of our Constitution in Church and State ; and pointed to it as an additional proof that men who had passed any large portion of their lives beyond the limits of our favoured country usually con- tracted not only a laxity of feeling towards Protes- tantism, nay, towards religion itself, — a latitudina- rian spirit hardly distinguishable from atheism, — but also a levity of disposition, inducing them to tamper with those institutions by which alone Great Britain had risen to her pre-eminence among the na- tions. Such men, infected with outlandish habits, intoxicated with vanity, grasping at momentary power by flattery of the multitude, fearless because godless, liberal because un-English, were ready to pull one stone from under another in the national edifice, till the great structure tottered to its fall. On the other hand, the " Duffield Watchman " saw, in this signal instance of self-liberation from the trammels of prejudice, a decisive guarantee of intel- lectual pre-eminence, united with a generous sensi- bility to the claims of man as man, which had 152 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. burst asunder and cast off, by a spontaneous exer- tion of energy, the cramping, out- worn shell of hereditary bias and class interest. But these large-minded guides of public opinion argued from wider data than could be furnished by any knowledge of the particular case concerned. Harold Transome was neither the dissolute cosmo- politan so vigorously sketched by the Tory " Herald," nor the intellectual giant and moral lobster suggested by the liberal imagination of the " Watchman." Twenty years ago he had been a bright, active, good-tempered lad, with sharp eyes and a good aim ; he delighted in success and in predominance, but he did not long for an impossible predominance, and become sour and sulky because it was impossible. He played at the games he was clever in, and usu- ally won ; all other games he let alone, and thought them of little worth. At home and at Eton he had been side by side with his stupid elder brother Dur- fey, whom he despised ; and he very early began to reflect that since this Caliban in miniature was older than himself, he must carve out his own fortune. That was a nuisance ; and on the whole the world seemed rather ill-arranged, at Eton especially, where there were many reasons why Harold made no great figure. He was not sorry the money was wanting to send him to Oxford ; he did not see the good of Oxford : he had been surrounded by many things during his short life, of which he had dis- tinctly said to himself that he did not see the good, and he was not disposed to venerate on the strength of any good that others saw. He turned his back- on home very cheerfully, though he was rather fond of his mother, and very fond of Transome Court, and the river where he had been used to fish ; but he FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 153 said to himself as he passed the lodge-gates, " I '11 get rich somehow, and have an estate of my own, and do what I like with it." This determined aim- ing at something not easy but clearly possible marked the direction in which Harold's nature was strong ; he had the energetic will and muscle, the self-confidence, the quick perception, and the nar- row imagination which make what is admiringly called the practical mind. Since then his character had been ripened by a various experience, and also by much knowledge which he had set himself deliberately to gain. But the man was no more than the boy writ large, with an extensive commentary. The years had nourished an inclination to as much opposition as would en- able him to assert his own independence and power without throwing himself into that tabooed condi- tion which robs power of its triumph. And this in- clination had helped his shrewdness in forming judgments which were at once innovating and mod- erate. He was addicted at once to rebellion and to conformity, and only an intimate personal knowl- edge could enable any one to predict where his conformity would begin. The limit was not de- fined by theory, but was drawn in an irregular zig- zag by early disposition and association ; and his resolution, of which he had never lost hold, to be a thorough Englishman again some day, had kept up the habit of considering all his conclusions with reference to English politics and English social con- ditions. He meant to stand up for every change that the economical condition of the country re- quired, and he had an angry contempt for men with coronets on their coaches, but too small a share of brains to see when they had better make a virtue of 154 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. necessity. His respect was rather for men who had no coronets, but who achieved a just influence by furthering all measures which the common-sense of the country and the increasing self-assertion of the majority peremptorily demanded. He could be such a man himself. In fact, Harold Transome was a clever, frank, good-natured egoist ; not stringently consistent, but without any disposition to falsity ; proud, but with a pride that was moulded in an individual rather than an hereditary form ; unspeculative, unsenti- mental, unsympathetic ; fond of sensual pleasures, but disinclined to all vice, and attached as a healthy, clear-sighted person, to all conventional morality, construed with a certain freedom, like doctrinal articles to which the public order may require sub- scription. A character is apt to look but indiffer- ently, written out in this way. Eeduced to a map, our premises seem insignificant, but they make, nevertheless, a very pretty freehold to live in and walk over ; and so, if Harold Transome had been among your acquaintances, and you had observed his qualities through the medium of his agreeable person, bright smile, and a certain easy charm which accompanies sensuousness when unsullied by coarseness, — through the medium also of the many opportunities in which he would have made himself useful or pleasant to you, — you would have thought him a good fellow, highly acceptable as a guest, a colleague, or a brother-in-law. Whether all mothers would have liked him as a son, is another question. It is a fact, perhaps kept a little too much in the background, that mothers have a self larger than their maternity, and that when their sons have be- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 155 come taller than themselves, and are gone from them to college or into the world, there are wide spaces of their time which are not filled with pray- ing for their boys, reading old letters, and envying yet blessing those who are attending to their shirt- buttons. Mrs. Transome was certainly not one of those bland, adoring, and gently tearful women. After sharing the common dream that when a beau- tiful man-child was born to her, her cup of happi- ness would be full, she had travelled through long years apart from that child to find herself at last in the presence of a son of whom she was afraid, who was utterly unmanageable by her, and to whose sentiments in any given case she possessed no key. Yet Harold was a kind son : he kissed his mother's brow, offered her his arm, let her choose what she liked for the house and garden, asked her whether she would have bays or grays for her new carriage, and was bent on seeing her make as good a figure in the neighbourhood as any other woman of her rank. She trembled under this kindness : it was not enough to satisfy her ; still, if it should ever cease and give place to something else, — she was too uncertain about Harold's feel- ings to imagine clearly what that something would be. The finest threads, such as no eye sees, if bound cunningly about the sensitive flesh, so that the movement to break them would bring torture, may make a worse bondage than any fetters. Mrs. Transome felt the fatal threads about her, and the bitterness of this helpless bondage mingled itself with the new elegances of the dining and drawing rooms, and all the household changes which Harold had ordered to be brought about with magical quickness. Nothing was as she had once expected 156 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. it would be. If Harold had shown the least care to have her stay in the room with him, — if he had really cared for her opinion, — if he had been what she had dreamed he would be in the eyes of those people who had made her world, — if all the past could be dissolved, and leave no solid trace of itself, — mighty ifs that were all impossible, — she would have tasted some joy ; but now she began to look back with regret to the days when she sat in loneli- ness among the old drapery, and still longed for something that might happen. Yet, save in a bitter little speech, or in a deep sigh heard by no one be- sides Denner, she kept all these things hidden in her heart, and went out in the autumn sunshine to overlook the alterations in the pleasure-grounds very much as a happy woman might have done. One day, however, when she was occupied in this way, an occasion came on which she chose to ex- press indirectly a part of her inward care. She was standing on the broad gravel in the afternoon ; the long shadows lay on the grass ; the light seemed the more glorious because of the red- dened and golden trees. The gardeners were busy at their pleasant work ; the newly turned soil gave out an agreeable fragrance ; and little Harry was playing with Nimrod round old Mr. Transome, who sat placidly on a low garden-chair. The scene would have made a charming picture of English domestic life ; and the handsome, majestic, gray- haired woman (obviously grandmamma) would have been especially admired. But the artist would have felt it requisite to turn her face to- wards her husband and little grandson, and to have given her an elderly amiability of expression which would have divided remark with his exquisite FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 157 rendering of her Indian shawl. Mrs. Transome's face was turned the other way, and for this rea- son she only heard an approaching step, and did not see whose it was ; yet it startled her. It was not quick enough to be her son's step ; and be- sides, Harold was away at Duffield. It was Mr. Jermyn's. CHAPTER IX. A woman, naturally born to fears. King John. Methinks Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul With nothing trembles. King Richard II. Matthew Jeemyn approached Mrs. Transome, tak- ing off his hat and smiling. She did not smile, but said, — " You knew Harold was not at home ? " " Yes ; I came to see you, to know if you had any wishes that I could further, since I have not had an opportunity of consulting you since he came home." " Let us walk towards the Eookery then." They turned together, Mr. Jermyn still keeping his hat off and holding it behind him. The air was so soft and agreeable that Mrs. Transome herself had nothing but a large veil over her head. They walked for a little while in silence, till they were out of sight, under tall trees, and treading noiselessly on falling leaves. What Jermyn was really most anxious about was to learn from Mrs. Transome whether anything had transpired that was significant of Harold's disposition towards him, which he suspected to be very far from friendly. Jermyn was not naturally flinty-hearted : at five- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 159 and-twenty he had written verses, and had got him- self wet through in order not to disappoint a dark- eyed woman whom he was proud to believe in love with him ; but a family man with grown-up sons and daughters, a man with a professional position and complicated affairs that make it hard to ascer- tain the exact relation between property and liabili- ties, necessarily thinks of himself and what may be impending. " Harold is remarkably acute and clever," he began at last, since Mrs. Transome did not speak. " If he gets into Parliament, I have no doubt he will distinguish himself. He has a quick eye for business of all kinds." " That is no comfort to me," said Mrs. Transome. To-day she was more conscious than usual of that bitterness which was always in her mind in Jermyn's presence, but which was carefully sup- pressed, — suppressed because she could not endure that the degradation she inwardly felt should ever become visible or audible in acts or words of her own, should ever be reflected in any word or look of his. For years there had been a deep silence about the past between them, — on her side, because she remembered ; on his, because he more and more forgot. " I trust he is not unkind to you in any way. I know his opinions pain you ; but I trust you find him in everything else disposed to be a good son." " Oh, to be sure, — good as men are disposed to be to women, giving them cushions and carriages, and recommending them to enjoy themselves, and then expecting them to be contented under con- tempt and neglect. I have no power over him, — remember that, — none." 160 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Jermyn turned to look in Mrs. Transome's face : it was long since he had heard her speak to him as if she were losing her self-command. "Has he shown any unpleasant feeling about your management of the affairs ? " "My management of the affairs !" Mrs. Transome said, with concentrated rage, flashing a fierce look at Jermyn. She checked herself ; she felt as if she were lighting a torch to flare on her own past folly and misery. It was a resolve which had become a habit, that she would never quarrel with this man, — never tell him what she saw him to be. She had kept her woman's pride and sensibility intact : through all her life there had vibrated the maiden need to have her hand kissed and be the object of chivalry. And so she sank into silence again, trembling. Jermyn felt annoyed, — nothing more. There was nothing in his mind corresponding to the intri- cate meshes of sensitiveness in Mrs. Transome's. He was anything but stupid ; yet he always blun- dered when he wanted to be delicate or magnani- mous ; he constantly sought to soothe others by praising himself. Moral vulgarity cleaved to him like an hereditary odour. He blundered now. " My* dear Mrs. Transome," he said, in a tone of bland kindness, " you are agitated, — you appear angry with me. Yet I think, if you consider, you will see that you have nothing to complain of in me, unless you will complain of the inevitable course of man's life. I have always met your wishes both in happy circumstances and in unhappy ones. I should be ready to do so now, if it were possible." Every sentence was as pleasant to her as if it had been cut in her bared arm. Some men's kind- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 161 ness and love-making are more exasperating, more humiliating than others' derision ; but the pitiable 1 woman who has once made herself secretly depen- dent on a man who is beneath her in feeling, must bear that humiliation for fear of worse. Coarse kindness is at least better than coarse anger ; and in all private quarrels the duller nature is trium- phant by reason • of its dulness. Mrs. Transome knew in her inmost soul that those relations which had sealed her lips on Jermyn's conduct in business matters, had been with him a ground for presuming that he should have impunity in any lax dealing into which circumstances had led him. She knew that she herself had endured all the more privation because of his dishonest selfishness. And now, Harold's long-deferred heirship, and his return with startlingly unexpected penetration, activity, and assertion of mastery, had placed them both in the full presence of a difficulty which had been prepared by the years of vague uncertainty as to issues. In this position, with a great dread hanging over her, which Jermyn knew, and ought to have felt that he had caused her, she was inclined to lash him with indignation, to scorch him with the words that were just the fit names for his doings, — in- clined all the more when he spoke with an insolent blandness, ignoring all that was truly in her heart. But no sooner did the words " You have brought it on me " rise within her than she heard within also the retort, " You brought it on yourself." Not for all the world beside could she bear to hear that retort uttered from without. What did she do ? With strange sequence to all that rapid tumult, after a few moments' silence she said, in a gentle and almost tremulous voice, — VOL. I. — 11 162 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Let me take your arm." He gave it immediately, putting on his hat and wondering. For more than twenty years Mrs. Transome had never chosen to take his arm. " I have but one thing to ask you. Make me a promise." " What is it ? " " That you will never quarrel with Harold." " You must know that it is my wish not to quar- rel with him." " But make a vow, — fix it in your mind as a thing not to be done. Bear anything from him rather than quarrel with him." " A man can't make a vow not to quarrel," said Jermyn, who was already a little irritated by the implication that Harold might be disposed to use him roughly. " A man's temper may get the better of him at any moment. I am not prepared to bear anything." " Good God ! " said Mrs. Transome, taking her hand from his arm, " is it possible you don't feel how horrible it would be ? " As she took away her hand, Jermyn let his arm fall, put both his hands in his pockets, and shrug- ging his shoulders, said, " I shall use him as he uses me." Jermyn had turned round his savage side, and the blandness was out of sight. It was this that had always frightened Mrs. Transome ; there was a possibility of fierce insolence in this man who was to pass with those nearest to her as her in- debted servant, but whose brand she secretly bore. She was as powerless with him as she was with her son. This woman, who loved rule, dared not speak FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 163 another word of attempted persuasion. They were both silent, taking the nearest way into the sun- shine again. There was a half-formed wish in both their minds, — even in the mother's, — that Harold Transome had never been born. "We are working hard for the election," said Jermyn, recovering himself, as they turned into the sunshine again. " I think we shall get him returned, and in that case he will be in high good- humour. Everything will be more propitious than you are apt to think. You must persuade your- self," he added, smiling at her, " that it is better for a man of his position to be in Parliament on the wrong side than not to be in at all." " Never," said Mrs. Transome. " I am too old to learn to call bitter sweet and sweet bitter. But what I may think or feel is of no consequence now. I am as unnecessary as a chimney ornament." And in this way they parted on the gravel, in that pretty scene where they had met. Mrs. Tran- some shivered as she stood alone ; all around her, where there had once been brightness and warmth, there were white ashes, and the sunshine looked dreary as it fell on them. Mr. Jermyn's heaviest reflections in riding home- ward turned on the possibility of incidents between himself and Harold Transome which would have disagreeable results, requiring him to raise money, and perhaps causing scandal, which in its way might also help to create a monetary deficit. A man of sixty, with a wife whose Dufheld connec- tions were of the highest respectability, with a family of tall daughters, an expensive establish- ment, and a large professional business, owed :: great deal more to himself as the mainstay of all 1 64 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. those solidities, than to feelings and ideas which were quite unsubstantial. There were many un- fortunate coincidences which placed Mr. Jermyn in an uncomfortable position just now ; he had not been much to blame, he considered ; if it had not been for a sudden turn of affairs, no one would have complained. He defied any man to say that he had intended to wrong people ; he was able to refund, to make reprisals, if they could be fairly demanded. Only he would certainly have preferred that they should not be demanded. A German poet was intrusted with a particularly fine sausage, which he was to convey to the donor's friend at Paris. In the course of a long journey he smelt the sausage ; he got hungry, and desired to taste it; he pared a morsel off, then another, and another, in successive moments of temptation, till at last the sausage was, humanly speaking, at an end. The offence had not been premeditated. The poet had never loved meanness, but he loved sausage ; and the result was undeniably awkward. So it was with Matthew Jermyn. He was far from liking that ugly abstraction rascality, but he had liked other things which had suggested nib- bling. He had had to do many things in law and in daily life which in the abstract he would have condemned ; and indeed he had never been tempted by them in the abstract. Here, in fact, was the inconvenience ; he had sinned for the sake of particular concrete things, and particular con- crete consequences were likely to follow. But he was a man of resolution, who, having made out what was the best course to take under a difficulty, went straight to his work. The elec- tion must be won : that would put Harold in good- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL 165 humour, give him something to do, and leave him- self more time to prepare for any crisis. He was in anything but low spirits that evening. It was his eldest daughter's birthday, and the young people had a dance. Papa was delightful, — stood up for a quadrille and a country-dance, told stories at supper, and made humorous quotations from his early readings : if these were Latin, he apolo- gized, and translated to the ladies ; so that a deaf lady-visitor from Duffield kept her trumpet up con- tinually, lest she should lose any of Mr. Jermyn's conversation, and wished that her niece Maria had been present, who was young and had a good memory. Still the party was smaller than usual ; for some families in Treby refused to visit Jermyn, now that he was concerned for a Radical candidate. CHAPTER X. He made love neither with roses, nor with apples, nor with locks of hair. — Theocritus. One Sunday afternoon Felix Holt rapped at the door of Mr. Lyon's house, although he could hear the voice of the minister preaching in the chapel. He stood with a book under his arm, apparently confident that there was some one in the house to open the door for him. In fact, Esther never went to chapel in the afternoon ; that " exercise " made her head ache. In these September weeks Felix had got rather intimate with Mr. Lyon. They shared the same political sympathies ; and though, to Liberals who had neither freehold nor copyhold nor leasehold the share in a county election consisted chieiiy of that prescriptive amusement of the majority known as " looking on," there was still something to be said on the occasion, if not to be done. Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking ; and the advent of the public-spirited, contradictory, yet affectionate Felix into Treby life had made a welcome epoch to the minister. To talk with this young man, who, though hopeful, had a singularity which some might at once have pronounced heresy, but which Mr. Lyon persisted in regarding as orthodoxy " in FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 167 the making," was like a good bite to strong teeth after a too plentiful allowance of spoon meat. To cultivate his society with a view to checking his erratic tendencies was a laudable purpose ; but per- haps if Felix had been rapidly subdued and re- duced to conformity, little Mr. Lyon would have found the conversation much natter. Esther had not seen so much of their new ac- quaintance as her father had. But she had begun to find him amusing, and also rather irritating to her woman's love of conquest. He always opposed and criticised her ; and besides that, he looked at her as if he never saw a single detail about her person, — quite as if she were a middle-aged woman in a cap. She did not believe that he had ever ad- mired her hands, or her long neck, or her graceful movements, which had made all the girls at school call her Calypso (doubtless from their familiarity with " Tele'maque "). Felix ought properly to have been a little in love with her, — never mentioning it, of course, because that would have been disagree- able, and his being a regular lover was out of the question. But it was quite clear that instead of feeling any disadvantage on his own side, he held himself to be immeasurably her superior; and, what was worse, Esther had a secret consciousness that he was her superior. She was all the more vexed at the suspicion that he thought slightly of her ; and wished in her vexation that she could have found more fault with him, — that she had not been obliged to admire more and more the vary- ing expressions of his open face and his deliciously good-humoured laugh, always loud at a joke against himself. Besides, she could not help having her curiosity roused by the unusual combinations both 1 68 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. in his mind and in his outward position; and she had surprised herself as well as her father one day by suddenly starting up and proposing to walk with him when he was going to pay an afternoon visit to Mrs. Holt, to try and soothe her concerning Felix. " What a mother he has ! " she said to her- self when they came away again ; " but, rude and queer as he is, I cannot say there is anything vul- gar about him. Yet — I don't know — if I saw him by the side of a finished gentleman." Esther wished that finished gentleman were among her ac- quaintances : he would certainly admire her, and make her aware of Felix's inferiority. On this particular Sunday afternoon, when she heard the knock at the door, she was seated in the kitchen corner between the fire and the window reading " KdneV' Certainly in her well-fitting light- blue dress, — she almost always wore some shade of blue, — with her delicate sandalled slipper stretched towards the fire, her little gold watch, which had cost her nearly a quarter's earnings, visible at her side, her slender fingers playing with a shower of brown curls, and a coronet of shining plaits at the summit of her head, she was a remarkable Cinder- ella. When the rap came, she coloured, and was going to shut her book and put it out of the way on the window-ledge behind her ; but she desisted with a little toss, laid it open on the table beside her, and walked to the outer door, which opened into the kitchen. There was rather a mischievous gleam in her face : the rap was not a small one ; it came probably from a large personage with a vigor- ous arm. " Good-afternoon. Miss Lyon," said Felix, taking off his cloth cap, — he resolutely declined the expen- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 1O9 sive ugliness of a hat, and in a poked cap and with- out a cravat, made a figure at which his mother cried every Sunday, and thought of with a slow shake of the head at several passages in the minis- ter's prayer. " Dear me, it is you, Mr. Holt ! I fear you will have to wait some time before you can see my father. The sermon is not ended yet, and there will be the hymn and the prayer, and perhaps other things to detain him." " Well, will you let me sit down in the kitchen ? I don't want to be a bore." " Oh, no," said Esther, with her pretty, light laugh, " I always give you credit for not meaning it. Pray come in, if you don't mind waiting. I was sitting in the kitchen ; the kettle is singing quite prettily. It is much nicer than the parlour, — not half so ugly." " There I agree with you." " How very extraordinary ! But if you prefer the kitchen, and don't want to sit with me, I can go into the parlour." " I came on purpose to sit with you," said Felix, in his blunt way, "but I thought it likely you might be vexed at seeing me. I wanted to talk to you, but I 've got nothing pleasant to say. As your father would have it, I 'm not given to prophesy smooth things, — 'to prophesy deceit." " I understand," said Esther, sitting down. " Pray be seated. You thought I had no afternoon sermon, so you came to give me one." "Yes," said Felix, seating himself sideways in a chair not far off her, and leaning over the back to look at her with his large clear gray eyes, " and my text is something you said the other day You said i7o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. you did n't mind about people having right opinions so that they had good taste. Now I want you to see what shallow stuff that is." " Oh, I don't doubt it if you say so. I know you are a person of right opinions." " But by opinions you mean men's thoughts about great subjects, and by taste you mean their thoughts about small ones, — dress, behaviour, amusements, ornaments." " Well — yes — or rather, their sensibilities about those things." " It comes to the same thing ; thoughts, opinions, knowledge, are only a sensibility to facts and ideas. If I understand a geometrical problem, it is because I have a sensibility to the way in which lines and figures are related to each other ; and I want you to see that the creature who has the sensibilities that you call taste, and not the sensibilities that you call opinions, is simply a lower, pettier sort of being, — an insect that notices the shaking of the table, but never notices the thunder." " Very well, I am an insect ; yet I notice that you are thundering at me." " No, you are not an insect. That is what exas- perates me at your making a boast of littleness. You have enough understanding to make it wicked that you should add one more to the women who hinder men's lives from having any nobleness in them." Esther coloured deeply : she resented this speech, yet she disliked it less than many Felix had ad- dressed to her. "What is my horrible guilt?" she said, rising and standing, as she was wont, with one foot on the fender, and looking at the fire. If it had been any EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 171 one but Felix who was near her, it might have occurred to her that this attitude showed her to advantage ; but she had only a mortified sense that he was quite indifferent to what others praised her for. "Why do you read this mawkish stuff on a Sun- day, for example?" he said, snatching up "Ke'iu',' and running his eye over the pages. " Why don't you always go to chapel, Mr. Holt, and read Howe's 'Living Temple,' and join the Church ? " " There 's just the difference between us, — I know why I don't do those things. I distinctly see that I can do something better. I have other principles, and should sink myself by doing what I don't rec- ognize as the best." " I understand," said Esther, as lightly as she could, to conceal her bitterness. " I am a lower kind of being, and could not so easily sink myself." " Not by entering into your father's ideas. If a woman really believes herself to be a lower kind of being, she should place herself in subjection ; she should be ruled by the thoughts of her father or husband. If not, let her show her power of choo ing something better. You must know that your father's principles are greater and worthier than what guides your life. You have no reason but idle fancy and selfish inclination for shirking his teaching and giving your soul up to trifles." " You are kind enough to say so. But I am not aware that I have ever confided my reasons to you." " Why, what worth calling a reason could make any mortal hang over this trash ? — idiotic immo- rality dressed up to look fine, with a little bit of doctrine tacked to it, like a litre's foot on a dish, i 7 2 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. to make believe the mess is not cat's flesh. Look here ! ' Est-ce ma faute, si je trouve partout les bornes, si ce qui est fini n'a pour moi aucime valeur ? ' Yes, sir, distinctly your fault, because you 're an ass. Your dunce who can't do his sums always has a taste for the infinite. Sir, do you know what a rhomboid is ? Oh, no, I don't value these things with limits. 'Cependant, j'aime la monotonie des sentimens de la vie, et si j'avais encore la f olie de croire au bonheur — ' : "Oh, pray, Mr. Holt, don't go on reading with that dreadful accent ; it sets one's teeth on edge." Esther, smarting helplessly under the previous lashes, was relieved by this diversion of criticism. " There it is ! " said Felix, throwing the book on the table, and getting up to walk about. " You are only happy when you can spy a tag or a tassel loose to turn the talk, and get rid of any judgment that must carry grave action after it." " I think I have borne a great deal of talk with- out turning it." " Not enough, Miss Lyon, — not all that I came to say. I want you to change. Of course I am a brute to say so. I ought to say you are perfect Another man would, perhaps. But I say I want you to change." " How am I to oblige you ? By joining the Church ? " " No ; but by asking yourself whether life is not as solemn a thing as your father takes it to be, — in which you may be either a blessing or a curse to many. You know you have never done that. You don't care to be better than a bird trimming its feathers, and pecking about after what pleases it. You are discontented with the world because you FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 173 can't get just the small things that suit your pleas- ure, not because it 's a world where myriads of men and women are ground by wrong and misery, and tainted with pollution." Esther felt her heart swelling with mingled indie - - nation at this liberty, wounded pride at this depre- ciation, and acute consciousness that she could not contradict what Felix said. He was outrageously ill-bred ; but she felt that she should be lowering herself by telling him so, and manifesting her anger ; in that way she would be confirming his accusation of a littleness that shrank from severe truth ; and, besides, through all her mortification there pierced a sense that this exasperation of Felix against her was more complimentary than anything in his pre- vious behaviour. She had self-command enough to speak with her usual silvery voice. " Pray go on, Mr. Holt. Believe yourself of these burning truths. I am sure they must be troublesome to carry unuttered." " Yes, they are," said Felix, pausing, and standing not far off her. " I can't bear to see you going the way of the foolish women who spoil men's lives. Men can't help loving them, and so they make themselves slaves to the petty desires of petty creatures. That's the way those who might do better spend their lives for nought, — get checked in every great effort, — toil with brain and limb for things that have no more to do with a manly life than tarts and confectionery. That 's what makes women a curse ; all life is stunted to suit their littleness. That 's why I '11 never love, if I can help it ; and if I love, I '11 bear it, and never marry." The tumult of feeling in Esther's mind — morti- 174 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. fication, anger, the sense of a terrible power over her that Felix seemed to have as his angry words vibrated through her — was getting almost too much for her self-control. She felt her lips quiver- ing ; but her pride, which feared nothing so much as the betrayal of her emotion, helped her to a desperate effort. She pinched her own hand hard to overcome her tremor, and said, in a tone of scorn, — " I ought to be very much obliged to you for giv- ing me your confidence so freely." " Ah ! now you are offended with me, and dis- gusted with me. I expected it would be so. A woman does n't like a man who tells her the truth." " I think you boast a little too much of your truth-telling, Mr. Holt," said Esther, flashing out at last. " That virtue is apt to be easy to people when they only wound others and not themselves. Telling the truth often means no more than taking a liberty." " Yes, I suppose I should have been taking a liberty if I had tried to drag you back by the skirt when I saw you running into a pit." "You should really found a sect. Preaching is your vocation. It is a pity you should ever have an audience of only one." " I see ; I have made a fool of myself. I thought you had a more generous mind, — that you might be kindled to a better ambition. But I 've set your vanity aflame, — nothing else. I 'in going. Good-by." ' " Good-by," said Esther, not looking at him. He did not open the door immediately. He seemed to be adjusting his cap and pulling it down. Esther FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 175 longed to be able to throw a lasso round him and compel him to stay, that she might say what she chose to him ; her very anger made this departure irritating, especially as he had the last word, and that a very bitter one. But soon the latch was lifted, and the door closed behind him. She ran up to her bedroom and burst into tears. Poor maiden ! There was a strange contradiction of impulses in her mind in those first moments. She could not bear that Felix should not respect her, yet she could not bear that he should see her bend before his denunciation. She revolted against his assumption of superiority, yet she felt herself in a new kind of subjection to him. He was ill-bred, he was rude, he had taken an unwarrantable lib- erty ; yet his indignant words were a tribute to her : he thought she was worth more pains than the women of whom he took no notice. It was exces- sively impertinent in him to tell her of his resolv- ing not to love, — not to marry, — as if she cared about that ; as if he thought himself likely to in- spire an affection that would incline any woman to marry him after such eccentric steps as he had taken. Had he ever for a moment imagined that she had thought of him in the light of a man who would make love to her ? . . . But did he love her one little bit, and was that the reason why he wanted her to change ? Esther felt less angry at that form of freedom ; though she was quite sure that she did not love him, and that she could never love any one who was so much of a pedagogue and a master, to say nothing of his oddities. But he wanted her to change. For the first time in her life Esther felt herself seriously shaken in her self- contentment. She knew there was a mind to which 176 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. she appeared trivial, narrow, selfish. Every word Felix had said to her seemed to have burned itself into her memory. She felt as if she should forever- more be haunted by self-criticism, and never do anything to satisfy those fancies on which she had simply piqued herself before without being dogged by inward questions. Her father's desire for her conversion had never moved her ; she saw that he adored her all the while, and he never checked her unregenerate acts as if they degraded her on earth, but only mourned over them as unfitting her for heaven. Unfitness for heaven (spoken of as "Je- rusalem " and " glory ") ; the prayers of a good little father, whose thoughts and motives seemed to her like the " Life of Dr. Doddridge," which she was content to leave unread, — did not attack her self- respect and self-satisfaction. But now she had been stung, — stung even into a new consciousness concerning her father. Was it true that his life was so much worthier than her own ? She could not change for anything Felix said, but she told herself he was mistaken if he supposed her inca- pable of generous thoughts. She heard her father coming into the house. She dried her tears, tried to recover herself hurriedly, and went down to him. " You want your tea, father ; how your forehead burns !" she said gently, kissing his brow, and then putting her cool hand on it. Mr. Lyon felt a little surprise ; such spontaneous tenderness was not quite common with her ; it re- minded him of her mother. "My sweet child," he said gratefully, thinking with wonder of the treasures still left in our fallen nature. CHAPTER XI. Truth is the precious harvest of the earth. But once, when harvest waved upon a laud, The noisome cankerworm and caterpillar, Locusts, and all the swarming foul born broods, Fastened upon it with swift, greedy jaws, And turned the harvest into pestilence, Until men said, What profits it to sow ? Felix was going to Sproxton that Sunday after- noon. He always enjoyed his walk to that outlying hamlet ; it took him (by a short cut) through a corner of Sir Maximus Debarry's park ; then across a piece of common, broken here and there into red ridges below dark masses of furze ; and for the rest of the way alongside the canal, where the Sunday peacefulness that seemed to rest on the bordering meadows and pastures was hardly broken if a horse pulled into sight along the towing-path, and a boat, with a little curl of blue smoke issuing from its tin chimney, came slowly gliding behind. Felix re- tained something of his boyish impression that the days in a canal-boat were all like Sundays ; but the horse, if it had been put to him, would probably have preferred a more Judaic or Scotch rigour with regard to canal-boats, or at least that the Sunday towing should be done by asses, as a lower order. This canal was only a branch of the grand trunk, and ended among the coal-pits, where Felix, cross- ing a network of black tramroads, soon came to his VOL. I. — 12 178 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. destination, — that public institute of Sproxton, known to its frequenters chiefly as Chubb's, but less familiarly as the Sugar Loaf, or the New Pits ; this last being the name for the more modern and lively nucleus of the Sproxton hamlet. The other nucleus, known as the Old Pits, also supported its " public," but it had something of the forlorn air of an abandoned capital ; and the company at the Blue Cow was of an inferior kind, — equal, of course, in the fundamental attributes of humanity, such as desire for beer, but not equal in ability to pay for it. When Felix arrived, the great Chubb was stand- ing at the door. Mr. Chubb was a remarkable pub- lican ; none of your stock Bonifaces, red, bloated, jolly, and joking. He was thin and sallow, and was never, as his constant guests observed, seen to be the worse (or the better) for liquor ; indeed, as among soldiers an eminent general was held to have a charmed life, Chubb was held by the members of the Benefit Club to have a charmed sobriety, a vigilance over his own interest that resisted all narcotics. His very dreams, as stated by himself, had a method in them beyond the waking thoughts of other men. Pharaoh's dream, he observed, was nothing to them; and, as lying so much out of ordinary experience, they were held particularly suitable for narration on Sunday evenings, when the listening colliers, well washed and in their best coats, shook their heads with a sense of that pecu- liar edification which belongs to the inexplicable. Mr. Chubb's reasons for becoming landlord of the Sugar Loaf were founded on the severest calculation. Having an active mind, and being averse to bodily labour, he had thoroughly considered what calling FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 179 would yield him the best livelihood with the least possible exertion, aud in that sort of line he had seen that a " public " amongst miners who earned high wages was a fine opening. He had prospered according to the merits of such judicious calculation, was already a forty-shilling freeholder, and was con- scious of a vote for the county. He was not one of those mean-spirited men who found the franchise embarrassing, and would rather have been without it : he regarded his vote as part of his investment, and meant to make the best of it. He called him- self a straightforward man, and at suitable moments expressed his views freely ; in fact, he was known to have one fundamental division for all opinion, — " my idee " and " humbug." When Felix approached, Mr. Chubb was stand- ing, as usual, with his hands nervously busy in his pockets, his eyes glancing round with a detective expression at the black landscape, and his lipless mouth compressed, yet in constant movement. On a superficial view it might be supposed that so eager- seeming a personality was unsuited to the publican's business ; but in fact it was a great provocative to drinking. Like the shrill, biting talk of a vixenish wife, it would have compelled you to " take a little something" by way of dulling your sensibility. Hitherto, notwithstanding Felix drank so little ale, the publican had treated him with high civility. The coming election was a great opportunity for applying his political " idee," which was that society existed for the sake of the individual, and that the name of that individual was Chubb. Now, from a conjunction of absurd circumstances inconsis- tent with that idea, it happened that Sproxton had been hitherto somewhat neglected in the canvass. 180 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. The head member of the Company that worked the mines was Mr. Peter Garstin, and the same com- pany received the rent for the Sugar Loaf. Hence, as the person who had the most power of annoying Mr. Chubb, and being of detriment to him, Mr. Garstin was naturally the candidate for whom he had reserved his vote. But where there is this intention of ultimately gratifying a gentleman by voting for him in an open British manner on the day of the poll, a man, whether Publican or Phar- isee (Mr. Chubb used this generic classification of mankind as one that was sanctioned by Scripture), is all the freer in his relations with those deluded persons who take him for what he is not, and imagine him to be a waverer. But for some time opportunity had seemed barren. There were but three dubious votes besides Mr. Chubb' s in the small district of which the Sugar Loaf could be regarded as the centre of intelligence and inspira- tion : the colliers, of course, had no votes, and did not need political conversion ; consequently, the in- terests of Sproxton had only been tacitly cherished in the breasts of candidates. But ever since it had been known that a Radical candidate was in the field, that in consequence of this Mr. Debarry had coalesced with Mr. Garstin, and that Sir James Clement, the poor baronet, had retired, Mr. Chubb had been occupied with the most ingenious mental combinations in order to ascertain what possibilities of profit to the Sugar Loaf might lie in this altered state of the canvass. He had a cousin in another county, also a publi- can, but in a larger way, and resident in a borough, and from him Mr. Chubb had gathered more detailed political information than he could find in the EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. rSt Loamshire newspapers. He was now enlightened enough to know that there was a way of using vote- less miners and navvies at Nominations and Elec- tions. He approved of that ; it entered into his political " idee ; " and indeed he would have been for extending the franchise to this class, — at least in Sproxton. If any one had observed that you must draw a line somewhere, Mr. Chubb would have concurred at once, and would have given per- mission to draw it at a radius of two miles from his own tap. From the first Sunday evening when Felix had appeared at the Sugar Loaf, Mr. Chubb had made up his mind that this 'cute man who kept himself sober was an electioneering agent. That he was hired for some purpose or other, there was not a doubt ; a man did n't come and drink nothing without a good reason. In proportion as Felix's purpose was not obvious to Chubb's mind, it must be deep ; and this growing conviction had even led the publican on the last Sunday evening privately to urge his myste- rious visitor to let a little ale be chalked up for him, — it was of no consequence. Felix knew his man, and had taken care not to betray too soon that his real object was so to win the ear of the best fellows about him as to induce them to meet him on a Saturday evening in the room where Mr. Lyon, or one of his deacons, habitually held his Wednesday preachings. Only women and children, three old men, a journeyman tailor, and a consumptive youth, attended those preachings; not a collier had been won from the strong ale of the Sugar Loaf, not even a navvy from the muddier drink of the Blue Cow. Felix was sanguine ; he saw some pleasant faces among the miners when they were washed on 1 82 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Sundays ; they might be taught to spend their wages better. At all events, he was going to try : he had great confidence in his powers of appeal, and it was quite true that he never spoke without arresting attention. There was nothing better than a dame school in the hamlet ; he thought that if he could move the fathers, whose blackened week-day persons and flannel caps, ornamented with tallow candles by way of plume, were a badge of hard labour for which he had a more sympathetic fibre than for any ribbon in the button-hole, — if he could move these men to save something from their drink and pay a school- master for their boys, — a greater service would be done them than if Mr. Garstin and his company were persuaded to establish a school. " I '11 lay hold of them by their fatherhood," said Felix ; " I '11 take one of their little fellows and set him in the midst. Till they can show there 's some- thing they love better than swilling themselves with ale, extension of the suffrage can never mean anything for them but extension of boozing. One must begin somewhere : I '11 begin at what is under my nose. I '11 begin at Sproxton. That 's what a man would do if he had a red-hot superstition. Can't one work for sober truth as hard as for megrims ? " Felix Holt had his illusions, like other young men, though they were not of a fashionable sort; referring neither to the impression his costume and horsemanship might make on beholders, nor to the ease with which he would pay the Jews when he gave a loose to his talents and applied himself to work. He had fixed his choice on a certain Mike Brindle (not that Brindle was his real name, — each collier had his sobriquet) as the man whom he FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 183 would induce to walk part of the way home with him this very evening, and get to invite some of his comrades for the next Saturday. Brindle was one of the head miners ; he had a bright good-natured face, and had given especial attention to certain performances with a magnet which Felix carried in his pocket. Mr. Chubb, who had also his illusions, smiled graciously as the enigmatic customer came up to the door-step. " Well, sir, Sunday seems to be your day ; I begin to look for you on a Sunday now." " Yes, I 'm a working-man ; Sunday is my holi- day," said Felix, pausing at the door since the host seemed to expect this. " Ah, sir, there 's many ways of working. I look at it you 're one of those as work with your brains. That 's what I do myself." " One may do a good deal of that and work with one 's hands too." " Ah, sir," said Mr. Chubb, with a certain bitter- ness in his smile, " I 've that sort of head that I 've often wished I was stupider. I use things up, sir ; I see into things a deal too quick. I eat my dinner, as you may say, at breakfast-time. That 's why I hardly ever smoke a pipe. No sooner do I stick a pipe in my mouth than I puff and puff till it 's gone before other folks' are well lit ; and then, where am I ? I might as well have let it alone. In this world it's better not to be too quick. But you know what it is, sir." " Not I," said Felix, rubbing the back of his head, with a grimace. "I generally feel myself rather a blockhead. The world's a largish place, and I have n't turned everything inside out yet." 1 84 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Ah, that 's your deepness. I think we under- stand one another. And about this here election, I lay two to one we should agree if we was to come to talk about it." " Ah ! " said Felix, with an air of caution. " You 're none of a Tory, eh, sir ? You won't go to vote for Debarry ? That was what I said at the very first go-off. Says I, he 's no Tory. I think I was right, sir, — eh ? " " Certainly ; I 'm no Tory." " No, no, you don't catch me wrong in a hurry. Well, between you and me, I care no more for the Debarrys than I care for Johnny Groats. I live on none o' their land, and not a pot's-worth did they ever send to the Sugar Loaf. I 'm not frightened at the Debarrys ; there 's no man more independent than me. I '11 plump or I '11 split for them as treat me the handsomest and are the most of what I call gentlemen ; that 's my idee. And in the way of hacting for any man, them are fools that don't employ me." We mortals sometimes cut a pitiable figure in our attempts at display. We may be sure of our own merits, yet fatally ignorant of the point of view from which we are regarded by our neighbour. Our fine patterns in tattooing may be far from throwing him into a swoon of admiration, though we turn ourselves all round to show them. Thus it was with Mr. Chubb. " Yes," said Felix, dryly ; " I should think there are some sorts of work for which you are just fitted." " Ah, you see that ? Well, we understand one nnother. You're no Tory; no more am I. And if I 'd got four hands to show at a nomination, the FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 185 Debarrys should n't have one of 'em. My idee is, there 's a deal too much of their scutchins and their moniments in Treby Church. What 's their scutchins mean ? They 're a sign with little liquor behind 'em ; that 's how I take it. There 's nobody can give account of 'em as I ever heard." Mr. Chubb was hindered from further explaining his views as to the historical element in society by the arrival of new guests, who approached in two groups. The foremost group consisted of well- known colliers, in their good Sunday beavers and coloured handkerchiefs serving as cravats, with the long ends floating. The second group was a more unusual one, and caused Mr. Chubb to compress his mouth and agitate the muscles about it in rather an excited manner. First came a smartly dressed personage on horse- back, with a conspicuous expansive shirt-front and figured satin stock. He was a stout man, and gave a strong sense of broadcloth. A wild idea shot through Mr. Chubb's brain : could this grand visitor be Harold Transome ? Excuse him : he had been given to understand by his cousin from the distant borough that a Radical candidate in the condescen- sion of canvassing had even gone the length of eating bread-and-treacle with the children of an honest freeman, and declaring his preference for that simple fare. Mr. Chubb's notion of a Eadical was that he was a new and agreeable kind of lick- spittle who fawned on the poor instead of on the rich, and so was likely to send customers to a " public ; " so that he argued well enough from the premises at his command. The mounted man of broadcloth had followers, — several shabby-looking men, and Sproxton boys of 1 86 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. all sizes, whose curiosity had been stimulated by unexpected largesse. A stranger on horseback scattering halfpence on a Sunday was so unprece- dented that there was no knowing what he might do next ; and the smallest hindmost fellows in sealskin caps were not without hope that an en- tirely new order of things had set in. Every one waited outside for the stranger to dis- mount, and Mr. Chubb advanced to take the bridle. "Well, Mr. Chubb," were the first words when the great man was safely out of the saddle, " I 've often heard of your fine tap, and I 'm come to taste it" " "Walk in, sir, — pray walk in," said Mr. Chubb, giving the horse to the stable-boy. "I shall be proud to draw for you. If anybody 's been praising me, I think my ale will back him." All entered in the rear of the stranger except the boys, who peeped in at the window. " Won't you please to walk into the parlour, sir ? " said Chubb, obsequiously. " No, no, I '11 sit down here. This is what I like to see," said the stranger, looking round at the col- liers, who eyed him rather shyly, — "a bright hearth where working-men can enjoy themselves. How- ever, I'll step into the other room for three min- utes, just to speak half-a-dozen words with you." Mr. Chubb threw open the parlour door, and then stepping back, took the opportunity of saying in a low tone to Felix, " Do you know this gentleman ? " " Not I ; no." Mr. Chubb's opinion of Felix Holt sank from that moment. The parlour door was closed, but no one sat down or ordered beer. " I say, master," said Mike Brindle, going up to FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 187 Felix, " don't you think that 's one o' the 'lection men?" " Very likely." " I heared a chap say they 're up and down every- where," said Brindle ; " and now 's the time, they say, when a man can get beer for nothing." "Ay, that's sin' the Reform," said a big, red- whiskered man, called Dredge. " That 's brought the 'lections and the drink into these parts ; for afore that, it was all kep' up the Lord knows wheer." " Well, but the Eeform 's niver come anigh Sprox'on," said a gray-haired but stalwart man called Old Sleek. " I don't believe nothing about'n, I don't." " Don't you ? " said Brindle, with some contempt. " Well, I do. There 's folks won't believe beyond the end o' their own pickaxes. You can't drive nothing into 'em, not if you split their skulls. I know for certain sure, from a chap in the cartin' way, as he 's got money and drink too, only for hollering. Eh, master, what do you say ? " Brindle ended, turning with some deference to Felix. "Should you like to know all about the Ee- form ? " said Felix, using his opportunity. " If you would, I can tell you." " Ay, ay, — tell 's ; you know, I '11 be bound," said several voices at once. " Ah, but it will take some little time. And we must be q^^iet. The cleverest of you — those who are looked up to in the Club — must come and meet me at Peggy Button's cottage next Saturday, at seven o'clock, after dark. And, Brindle, you must bring that little yellow-haired lad of yours. And anybody that 's got a little boy — a very little fellow, who won't understand what is said — - 188 TELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. may bring him. But you must keep it close, you know. We don't want fools there. But everybody who hears me may come. I shall be at Peggy Button's." " Why, that 's where the Wednesday preachin' is," said Dredge. " I 've been a-forced to give my wife a black eye to hinder her from going to the preachin.' Lors-a-massy, she thinks she knows better nor me, and I can't make head nor tail of her talk." "Why can't you let the woman alone ?" said Brin- dle, with some disgust. " I 'd be ashamed to beat a poor crawling thing 'cause she likes preaching." " No more I did beat her afore, not if she scrat' me," said Dredge, in vindication ; " but if she jabbers at me, I can't abide it. Howsomever, I '11 bring my Jack to Peggy's o' Saturday. His mother shall wash him. He is but four year old, and he '11 swear and square at me a good un, if I set him on." " There you go blatherin'," said Brindle, intend- ing a mild rebuke. This dialogue, which was in danger of becoming too personal, was interrupted by the reopening of the parlour door, and the reappearance of the impres- sive stranger with Mr. Chubb, whose countenance seemed unusually radiant. " Sit you down here, Mr. Johnson," said Chubb, moving an arm-chair. " This gentleman is kind enough to treat the company," he added, looking round, " and what 's more, he '11 take a cup with 'em ; and I think there 's no man but what '11 say that 's a honour." The company had nothing equivalent to a " Hear ! hear ! " at command ; but they perhaps felt the more, as they seated themselves with an expectation FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 189 unvented by utterance. There was a general satis- factory sense that the hitherto shadowy Eeforrn had at length come to Sproxton in a good round shape, with broadcloth and pockets. Felix did not intend to accept the treating ; but he chose to stay and hear, taking his pint as usual. " Capital ale, capital ale !" said Mr. Johnson, as he set down his glass, speaking in a quick, smooth treble. " Now," he went on, with a certain pathos in his voice, looking at Mr. Chubb, who sat opposite, " there 's some satisfaction to me in finding an es- tablishment like this at the Pits. For what would higher wages do for the working-man if he could n't get a good article for his money ? Why, gentle- men," — here he looked round, — "I 've been into alehouses where I 've seen a fine fellow of a miner or a stone-cutter come in and have to lay down money for beer that I should be sorry to give to my pigs ! " Here Mr. Johnson leaned forward with squared elbows, hands placed on his knees, and a defiant shake of the head. " Aw, like at the Blue Cow," fell in the irrepres- sible Dredge, in a deep bass ; but he was rebuked by a severe nudge from Brindle. " Yes, yes, you know what it is, my friend," said Mr. Johnson, looking at Dredge, and restoring his self-satisfaction. " But it won't last much longer ; that 's one good thing. Bad liquor will be swept away with other bad articles. Trade will prosper, — and what 's trade now without steam, and what is steam without coal? And mark you this, gentle- men, — there 's no man and no government can make coal." A brief, loud " Haw, haw ! " showed that this fact was appreciated 190 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " Nor freeston', nayther," said a wide-mouthed wiry man called Gills, who wished for an exhaus- tive treatment of the subject, being a stone-cutter. " Nor freestone, as you say ; else, I think, if coal could be made above ground, honest fellows who are the pith of our population would not have to bend their backs and sweat in a pit six days out of the seven. No, no : I say, as this country prospers it has more and more need of you, sirs. It can do without a pack of lazy lords and ladies, but it can never do without brave colliers. And the country will prosper. I pledge you my word, sirs, this country will rise to the tip-top of everything, and there is n't a man in it but what shall have his joint in the pot, and his spare money jingling in his pocket, if we only exert ourselves to send the right men to Parliament, — men who will speak up for the collier and the stone-cutter and the navvy" (Mr. Johnson waved his hand liberally), " and will stand no nonsense. This is a crisis, and we must exert ourselves. We 've got Eeform, gentlemen, but now the thing is to make Eeform work. It 's a crisis, — I pledge you my word, it 's a crisis." Mr. Johnson threw himself back as if from the concussion of that great noun. He did not suppose that one of his audience knew what a crisis meant ; but he had large experience in the effect of uncom- prehended words ; and in this case the colliers were thrown into a state of conviction concerning they did not know what, which was a fine preparation for "hitting out," or any other act carrying a due sequence to such a conviction. Felix felt himself in danger of getting into a rage. There is hardly any mental misery worse than that of having our own serious phrases, our FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 191 own rooted beliefs, caricatured by a charlatan or a hireling. He began to feel the sharp lower edge of his tin pint-measure, and to think it a tempting missile. Mr. Johnson certainly had some qualifications as an orator. After this impressive pause he leaned forward again, and said, in a lowered tone, looking round, — " I think you all know the good news." There was a movement of shoe-soles on the quarried floor, and a scrape of some chair-legs, but no other answer. " The good news I mean is that a first-rate man, Mr. Transome of Transome Court, has offered him- self to represent you in Parliament, sirs. I say you in particular, for what he has at heart is the welfare of the working-man, — of the brave fellows that wield the pickaxe and the saw and the hammer. He 's rich, — has more money than Garstin, — but he does n't want to keep it to himself. What he wants is to make a good use of it, gentlemen. He 's come back from foreign parts with his pockets full of gold. He could buy up the Debarrys if they were worth buying, but he 's got something better to do with his money. He means to use it for the good of the working-men in these parts. I know there are some men who put up for Parliament and talk a little too big. They may say they want to befriend the colliers, for example. But I should like to put a question to them. I should like to ask them, ' What colliers ? ' There are colliers up at Newcastle, and there are colliers down in Wales. Will it do any good to honest Tom, who is hungry in Sproxton, to hear that Jack at Newcastle has his bellyful of beef and pudding ? " 192 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " It ought to do him good," Felix burst in, with his loud abrupt voice, in odd contrast with glib Mr. Johnson's. " If he knows it 's a bad thing to be hungry and not have enough to eat, he ought to be glad that another fellow, who is not idle, is not suffering in the same way." Every one was startled. The audience was much impressed with the grandeur, the knowledge, and the power of Mr. Johnson. His brilliant promises confirmed the impression that Reform had at length reached the New Pits ; and Reform, if it were good for anything, must at last resolve itself into spare money, — meaning " sport " and drink, and keeping away from work for several days in the week. These " brave " men of Sproxton liked Felix as one of themselves, only much more knowing, — as a working-man who had seen many distant parts, but who must be very poor, since he never drank more than a pint or so. They were quite inclined to hear what he had got to say on another occasion, but they were rather irritated by his interruption at the present moment. Mr. Johnson was annoyed, but he spoke with the same glib quietness as before, though with an expression of contempt : — " I call it a poor-spirited thing to take up a man's straightforward words and twist them. What I meant to say was plain enough, — that no man can be saved from starving by looking on while others eat. I think that 's common-sense, eh, sirs ? " There was again an approving " Haw, haw ! " To hear anything said, and understand it, was a stimu- lus that had the effect of wit. Mr. Chubb cast a suspicious and viperous glance at Felix, who felt that he had been a simpleton for his pains. " Well, then," continued Mr. Johnson, " I suppose FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 193 I may go on. But if there is any one here better able to inform the company than I am, I give way, I give way." " Sir," said Mr. Chubb, magisterially, " no man shall take the words out of your mouth in this house. And," he added, looking pointedly at Felix, "company that's got no more orders to give, and wants to turn up rusty to them that has, had better be making room than filling it. Love an' 'arrnony 's the word on our Club's flag, an' love an' 'armony 's the meaning of 'The Sugar Loaf, William Chubb.' Folks of a different mind had better seek another house of call." « Very good," said Felix, laying down his money and taking his cap ; " I 'm going." He saw clearly enough that if he said more, there would be a dis- turbance which could have no desirable end. When the door had closed behind him, Mr. Johnson said, " What is that person's name ? " " Does anybody know it ? " said Mr. Chubb. A few noes were heard. " I 've heard him speak like a downright Eeformer, else I should have looked a little sharper after him. But you may see he 's noth- ing partie'lar." " It looks rather bad that no one knows his name," said Mr. Johnson. "He's most likely a Tory in disguise, — a Tory spy. You must be careful, sirs, of men who come to you and say they 're Radicals, and yet do nothing for you. They '11 stuff you with words, — no lack of words, — but words are wind. Now, a man like Transome comes forward and says to the working-men of this country : ' Here I am, ready to serve you and to speak for you in Parlia- ment, and to get the laws made all right for you ; VOL. I. — 13 194 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. and in the mean while, if there 's any of you who are my neighbours who want a day's holiday, or a cup to drink with friends, or a copy of the King's likeness, — why, I 'in your man. I 'm not a paper handbill, — all words and no substance, — nor a man with land and nothing else ; I 've got bags of gold as well as land.' I think you know what I mean by the King's likeness ? " Here Mr. Johnson took a half-crown out of his pocket and held the head towards the company. " Well, sirs, there are some men who like to keep this pretty picture a great deal too much to them- selves. I don't know whether I 'm right, but I think I 've heard of such a one not a hundred miles from here. I think his name was Spratt, and he managed some company's coal-pits." " Haw, haw ! Spratt, — Spratt 's his name," was rolled forth to an accompaniment of scraping shoe- soles. " A screwing fellow, by what I understand, — a domineering fellow, — who would expect men to do as he liked without paying them for it. I think there 's not an honest man who would n't like to disappoint such an upstart." There was a murmur which was interpreted by Mr. Chubb : " I '11 answer for 'em, sir." " Now, listen to me. Here 's Garstin : he 's one of the Company you work under. "What 's Garstin to you ? Who sees him ? and when they do see him they see a thin miserly fellow who keeps his pockets buttoned. He calls himself a Whig, yet he '11 split votes with a Tory, — he '11 drive with the Debarrys. Now, gentlemen, if T said I 'd got a vote, and any- body asked me what I should do with it, I should say, ' I '11 plump for Transome.' You 've got no FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 195 votes, and that 's a shame. But you will have some day, if such men as Transome are returned ; and then you '11 be on a level with the first gentleman in the land, and if he wants to sit in Parliament, he must take off his hat and ask your leave. But though you have n't got a vote you can give a cheer for the right man, and Transome 's not a man like Garstin ; if you lost a day's wages by giving a cheer for Transome, he '11 make you amends. That 's the way a man who has no vote can yet serve him- self and his country ; he can lift up his hand and shout, ' Transome forever ! ' — ' Hurray for Tran- some ! ' Let the working-men, — let colliers and navvies and stone-cutters, who between you and me have a good deal too much the worst of it, as things are now, — let them join together and give their hands and voices for the right man, and they '11 make the great people shake in their shoes a little ; and when you shout for Transome, remember you shout for more wages, and more of your rights, and you shout to get rid of rats and sprats and such small animals, who are the tools the rich make use of to squeeze the blood out of the poor man." " I wish there 'd be a row, — I 'd pommel him," said Dredge, who was generally felt to be speaking to the question. " No, no, my friend, — there you 're a little wrong. No pommelling, — no striking first. There you have the law and the constable against you. A little rolling in the dust and knocking hats off, a little pelting with soft things that '11 stick and not bruise, — all that does n't spoil the fun. If a man is to speak when you don't like to hear him, it is but fair you should give him something he does n't like in return. And the same if he 's got a vote and 196 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. does n't use it for the good of the country ; I see no harm in splitting his coat in a quiet way. A man must be taught what 's right if he does n't know it. But no kicks, no knocking down, no pommelling." "It 'ud be good fun, though, if so-be," said Old Sleek, allowing himself an imaginative pleasure. " Well, well, if a Spratt wants you to say Garstin, it 's some pleasure to think you can say Transome. Now, my notion is this. You are men who can put two and two together, — I don't know a more solid lot of fellows than you are ; and what I say is, let the honest men in this country who Ve got no vote show themselves in a body when they have the chance. Why, sirs, for every Tory sneak that 's got a vote, there 's fifty-five fellows who must stand by and be expected to hold their tongues. But I say, let 'em hiss the sneaks, let 'em groan at the sneaks, and the sneaks will be ashamed of themselves. The men who 've got votes don't know how to use them. There 's many a fool with a vote, who is not sure in his mind whether he shall poll, say for Debarry or Garstin or Transome, — whether he '11 plump or whether he '11 split ; a straw will turn him. Let him know your mind if he does n't know his own. What 's the reason Debarry gets returned ? Because people are frightened at the Debarrys. What 's that to you ? You don't care for the Debarrys. If peo- ple are frightened at the Tories, we '11 turn round and frighten them. You know what a Tory is, — one who wants to drive the working-men as he 'd drive cattle. That 's what a Tory is ; and a Whig is no better, if he 's like Garstin. A Whig wants to knock the Tory down and get the whip ; that 's all. But Transome 's neither Whig nor Tory ; he 's the working-man's friend, the collier's friend, the FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 197 friend of the honest navvy. And if he gets into Parliament, let me tell you, it will be the better for you. I don't say it will be the better for over- lookers and screws and rats and sprats ; but it will be the better for every good fellow who takes his pot at the Sugar Loaf." Mr. Johnson's exertions for the political educa- tion of the Sproxton men did not stop here ; which was the more disinterested in him as he did not expect to see them again, and could only set on foot an organization by which their instruction could be continued without him. In this he was quite successful. A man known among the " but- ties " as Pack, who had already been mentioned by Mr. Chubb, presently joined the party, and had a private audience of Mr. Johnson, that he might be instituted as the " shepherd " of this new flock. " That 's a right-down genelman," said Pack, as he took the seat vacated by the orator, who had ridden away. " What 's his trade, think you ? " said Gills, the wiry stone-cutter. "Trade?" said Mr. Chubb. "He's one of the top-sawyers of the country. He works with his head, you may see that." " Let 's have our pipes, then," said Old Sleek ; "I'm pretty well tired o' jaw." " So am I," said Dredge, " It 's wriggling work, — like follering a stoat. It makes a man dry. I 'd as lief hear preaching, on'y there 's nought to be got by 't. I should n't know which end I stood on if it wasn't for the tickets and the treatin'." CHAPTER XII. " Oh, sir, 't was that mixture of spite and over-fed merriment which passes for humour with the vulgar. In their fun they have much resemblance to a turkey-cock. It has a cruel beak, and a silly iteration of ugly sounds ; it spreads its tail in self-glorification, but shows you the wrong side of that ornament, — liking admira- tion, but knowing not what is admirable." This Sunday evening, which promised to be so memorable in the experience of the Sproxton min- ers, had its drama also for those unsatisfactory ob- jects to Mr. Johnson's moral sense, the Debarrys. Certain incidents occurring at Treby Manor caused an excitement there which spread from the dining- room to the stables ; but no one underwent such agitating transitions of feeling as Mr. Scales. At six o'clock that superior butler was chuckling in triumph at having played a fine and original prac- tical joke on his rival Mr. Christian. Some two hours after that time, he was frightened, sorry, and even meek ; he was on the brink of a humiliating confession ; his cheeks were almost livid ; his hair was flattened for want of due attention from his fingers ; and the fine roll of his whiskers, which was too firm to give way, seemed only a sad remi- niscence of past splendour and felicity. His sorrow came about in this wise. After service on that Sunday morning, Mr. Philip Debarry had left the rest of the family to go home in the carriage, and had remained at the Rectory to FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 199 lunch with his uncle Augustus, that he might con- sult him touching some letters of importance. He had returned the letters to his pocket-book, but had not returned the book to his pocket, and he finally walked away leaving the enclosure of private papers and bank-notes on his uncle's escritoire. After his arrival at home he was reminded of his omission, and immediately despatched Christian with a note begging his uncle to seal up the pocket-book and send it by the bearer. This commission, which was given between three and four o'clock, happened to be very unwelcome to the courier. The fact was that Mr. Christian, who had been remarkable through life for that power of adapting himself to circumstances which enables a man to fall safely on all-fours in the most hurried expulsions and escapes, was not exempt from bodily suffering, — a circumstance to which there is no known way of adapting one's self so as to be perfectly comfortable under it, or to push it off on to other people's shoulders. He did what he could ; he took doses of opium when he had an access of nervous pains, and he consoled himself as to future possibilities by thinking that if the pains ever became intolera- bly frequent a considerable increase in the dose might put an end to them altogether. He was neither Cato nor Hamlet, and though he had learned their soliloquies at his first boarding-school, he would probably have increased his dose without reciting those masterpieces. Next to the pain it- self he disliked that any one should know of it; defective health diminished a man's market value ; he did not like to be the object of the sort of pity he himself gave to a poor devil who was forced to make a wry face or " give in " altogether. 2oo FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. He had felt it expedient to take a slight dose this afternoon, and still he was not altogether re- lieved at the time he set off to the Kectory. On returning with the valuable case safely deposited in his hind pocket, he felt increasing bodily uneasi- ness, and took another dose. Thinking it likely that he looked rather pitiable, he chose not to proceed to the house by the carriage-road. The servants often walked in the park on a Sunday, and he wished to avoid any meeting. He would make a circuit, get into the house privately, and after delivering his packet to Mr. Debarry, shut himself up till the ringing of the half-hour bell. But when he reached an elbowed seat under some sycamores, he felt so ill at ease that he yielded to the temptation of throwing himself on it to rest a little. He looked at his watch ; it was but five ; he had done his errand quickly hitherto, and Mr. Debarry had not urged haste. But in less than ten minutes he was in a sound sleep. Certain conditions of his system had determined a stronger effect than usual from the opium. As he had expected, there were servants strolling in the park, but they did not all choose the most frequented part. Mr. Scales, in pursuit of a slight flirtation with the younger lady's-maid, had pre- ferred a more sequestered walk in the company of that agreeable nymph. And it happened to be this pair, of all others, who alighted on the sleeping Christian, — a sight which at the very first moment caused Mr. Scales a vague pleasure as at an incident that must lead to something clever on his part. To play a trick, and make some one or other look fool- ish, was held the most pointed form of wit through- out the back regions of the Manor, and served as a FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 201 constant substitute for theatrical entertainment ; what the farce wanted in costume or " make-up " it gained in the reality of the mortification which excited the general laughter. And lo ! here was the offensive, the exasperatingly cool and superior Christian caught comparatively helpless, with his head hanging on his shoulder, and one coat-tail hanging out heavily below the elbow of the rustic seat. It was this coat-tail which served as a sug- gestion to Mr. Scales's genius. Putting his finger up in warning to Mrs. Cherry, and saying, " Hush, be quiet ! I see a fine bit of fun," he took a knife from his pocket, stepped behind the uncon- scious Christian, and quickly cut off the pendent coat-tail. Scales knew nothing of the errand to the Eectory ; and as he noticed that there was some- thing in the pocket, thought it was probably a large cigar-case. So much the better, — he had no time to pause. He threw the coat-tail as far as he could, and noticed that it fell among the elms under which they had been walking. Then, beck- oning to Mrs. Cherry, he hurried away with her towards the more open part of the park, not daring to explode in laughter until it was safe from the chance of waking the sleeper. And then the vision of the graceful, well-appointed Mr. Christian, who sneered at Scales about his "get up," having to walk back to the house with only one tail to his coat, was a source of so much enjoyment to the butler that the fair Cherry began to be quite jeal- ous of the joke. Still she admitted that it really was funny, tittered intermittently, and pledged her- self to secrecy, Mr. Scales explained to her that Christian would try to creep in unobserved, but that this must be made impossible ; and he re- 202 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. quested her to imagine the figure this iuterloping fellow would cut when everybody was asking what had happened. " Hallo, Christian ! where 's your coat-tail ? " would become a proverb at the Manor, where jokes kept remarkably well without the aid of salt ; and Mr. Christian's comb would be cut so effectually that it would take a long time to grow again. Exit Scales, laughing, and presenting a fine example of dramatic irony to any one in the secret of Fate. When Christian awoke, he was shocked to find himself in the twilight. He started up, shook him- self, missed something, and soon became aware what it was he missed. He did not doubt that he had been robbed, and he at once foresaw that the consequences would be highly unpleasant. In no way could the cause of the accident be so repre- sented to Mr. Philip Debarry as to prevent him from viewing his hitherto unimpeachable factotum in a new and unfavourable light. And though Mr. Christian did not regard his present position as brilliant, he did not see his way to anything better. A man nearly fifty who is not always quite well is seldom ardently hopeful ; he is aware that this is a world in which merit is often overlooked. With the idea of robbery in full possession of his mind, to peer about and search in the dimness, even if it had occurred to him, would have seemed a pre- posterous waste of time and energy. He knew it was likely that Mr. Debarry's pocket-book had im- portant and valuable contents, and that he should deepen his offence* by deferring his announcement of the unfortunate fact. He hastened back to the house, relieved by the obscurity from that mortifica- tion of his vanity on which the butler had counted FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 203 Indeed, to Scales himself the affair had already be- gun to appear less thoroughly jocose than he had anticipated. For he observed that Christian's non- appearance before dinner had caused Mr. Debarry some consternation ; and he had gathered that the courier had been sent on a commission to the Rec- tory. " My uncle must have detained him for some reason or other," he heard Mr. Philip say ; " but it is odd. If he were less trusty about commissions, or had ever seemed to drink too much, I should be uneasy." Altogether the affair was not taking the turn Mr. Scales had intended. At last, when din- ner had been removed, and the butler's chief duties were at an end, it was understood that Christian had entered without his coat-tail, looking serious and even agitated ; that he had asked leave at once to speak to Mr. Debarry ; and that he was even then in parley with the gentlemen in the dining- room. Scales was in alarm ; it must have been some property of Mr. Debarry's that had weighted the pocket. He took a lantern, got a groom to ac- company him with another lantern, and with the utmost practicable speed reached the fatal spot in the park. He searched under the elms, — he was certain that the pocket had fallen there, — and he found the pocket; but he found it empty, and in spite of further search, did not find the contents, though he had at first consoled himself with think- ing that they had fallen out, and would be lying not far off. He returned with the lanterns and the coat-tail, and a most uncomfortable consciousness in that great seat of a butler's emotion, the stomach. He had no sooner re-entered than he was met by Mrs. Cherry, pale and anxious, who drew him aside to say that if he did n't tell everything she would ; 204 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. that the constables were to be sent for ; that there had been no end of bank-notes and letters and things in Mr. Debarry's pocket-book, which Chris- tian was carrying in that very pocket Scales had cut off; that the Eector was sent for, the constable was coming, and they should all be hanged. Mr. Scales's own intellect was anything but clear as to the possible issues. Crestfallen, and with the coat- tail in his hands as an attestation that he was inno- cent of anything more than a joke, he went and made his confession. His story relieved Christian a little, but did not relieve Mr. Debarry, who was more annoyed at the loss of the letters, and the chance of their getting into hands that might make use of them, than at the loss of the bank-notes. Nothing could be done for the present, but that the Rector, who was a magistrate, should instruct the constables, and that the spot in the park indicated by Scales should again be carefully searched. This was done, but in vain ; and many of the family at the Manor had disturbed sleep that night CHAPTEE XIII. Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission. Richard II. Meanwhile Felix Holt had been making his way- back from Sproxton to Treby in some irritation and bitterness of spirit. For a little while he walked slowly along the direct road, hoping that Mr. John- son would overtake him, in which case he would have the pleasure of quarrelling with him, and tell- ing him what he thought of his intentions in com- ing to cant at the Sugar Loaf. But he presently checked himself in this folly, and turned off again towards the canal, that he might avoid the tempta- tion of getting into a passion to no purpose. " Where 's the good," he thought, " of pulling at such a tangled skein as this electioneering trickery ? As long as three fourths of the men in this country see nothing in an election but self-interest, and nothing in self-interest but some form of greed, one might as well try to purify the proceedings of the fishes, and say to a hungry codfish, — ' My good friend, abstain ; don't goggle your eyes so, or show such a stupid gluttonous mouth, or think the little fishes are worth nothing except in relation to your own inside.' He 'd be open to no argument short of crimping him. I should get into a rage with this fellow, and perhaps end by thrashing him. There 's some reason in me as long as I keep my temper, but 206 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. my rash humour is drunkenness without wine. I shouldn't wonder if he upsets all my plans with these colliers. Of course he 's going to treat them for the sake of getting up a posse at the nomination and speechifyings. They '11 drink double, and never come near me on a Saturday evening. I don't know what sort of man Transome really is. It 's no use my speaking to anybody else, but if I could get at him, he might put a veto on this thing. Though, when once the men have been promised and set a-going, the mischief is likely to be past mending. Hang the Liberal codfish ! I should n't have minded so much if he 'd been a Tory ! " Felix went along in the twilight, struggling in this way with the intricacies of life, which would certainly be greatly simplified if corrupt practices were the invariable mark of wrong opin- ions. When he had crossed the common and had entered the park, the overshadowing trees deepened the gray gloom of the evening ; it was useless to try and keep the blind path, and he could only be care- ful that his steps should be bent in the direction of the park -gate. He was striding along rapidly now, whistling " Bannockburn " in a subdued way as an accompaniment to his inward discussion, when some- thing smooth and soft on which his foot alighted arrested him with an unpleasant startling sensation, and made him stoop to examine the object he was treading on. He found it to be a large leather pocket-book swelled by its contents, and fastened with a sealed ribbon as well as a clasp. In stooping he saw about a yard off something whitish and square lying on the dark grass. This was an ornamental note-book of pale leather stamped with gold. Ap- parently it had burst open in falling, and out of the FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 207 pocket, formed by the cover, there protruded a small gold chain about four inches long, with various seals and other trifles attached to it by a ring at the end. Felix thrust the chain back, and finding that the clasp of the note-book was broken, he closed it and thrust it into his side pocket, walking along under some annoyance that fortune had made him the finder of articles belonging most probably to one of the family at Treby Manor. He was much too proud a man to like any contact with the aristocracy, and he could still less endure coming within speech of their servants. Some plan must be devised by which he could avoid carrying these things up to the Manor himself : he thought at first of leaving them at the lodge, but he had a scruple against plac- ing property, of which the ownership was after all uncertain, in the hands of persons unknown to him. It was possible that the large pocket-book contained papers of high importance, and that it did not be- long to any of the Debarry family. He resolved at last to carry his findings to Mr. Lyon, who would perhaps be good-natured enough to save him from the necessary transactions with the people at the Manor by undertaking those transactions himself. With this determination he walked straight to Malthouse Yard, and waited outside the chapel un- til the congregation was dispersing, when he passed along the aisle to the vestry in order to speak to the minister in private. But Mr. Lyon was not alone when Felix entered. Mr. Nuttwood, the grocer, who was one of the dea- cons, was complaining to him about the obstinate demeanour of the singers, who had declined to change the tunes in accordance with a change in the selec- tion of hymns, and had stretched short metre into 208 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. long out of pure wilfulness and defiance, irrever- ently adapting the most sacred monosyllables to a multitude of wandering quavers, arranged, it was to be feared, by some musician who was inspired by conceit rather than by the true spirit of psalmody. " Come in, my friend," said Mr. Lyon, smiling at Felix, and then continuing in a faint voice, while he wiped the perspiration from his brow and bald crown : " Brother Nuttwood, we must be content to carry a thorn in our sides while the necessities of our imperfect state demand that there should be a body set apart and called a choir, whose special office it is to lead the singing, not because they are more disposed to the devout uplifting of praise, but be- cause they are endowed with better vocal organs, and have attained more of the musician's art. For all office, unless it be accompanied by peculiar grace, becomes as it were a diseased organ, seeking to make itself too much of a centre. Singers, specially so called, are, it must be confessed, an anomaly among us who seek to reduce the Church to its primitive simplicity, and to cast away all that may obstruct the direct communion of spirit with spirit." " They are so headstrong," said Mr. Nuttwood, in a tone of sad perplexity, " that if we dealt not warily with them, they might end in dividing the church, even now that we have had the chapel enlarged. Brother Kemp would side with them, and draw the half part of the members after him. I cannot but think it a snare when a professing Christian has a bass voice like Brother Kemp's. It makes him de- sire to be heard of men ; but the weaker song of the humble may have more power in the ear of God." "Do you think it any better vanity to flatter FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 209 yourself that God likes to hear you, though men don't?" said Felix, with unwarrantable bluntness. The civil grocer was prepared to be scandalized by anything that came from Felix. In common with many hearers in Malthouse Yard, he already felt an objection to a young man who was notorious for having interfered in a question of wholesale and retail, which should have been left to Providence. Old Mr. Holt, being a church member, had probably had " leadings " which were more to be relied on than his son's boasted knowledge. In any case a little visceral disturbance and inward chastisement to the consumers of questionable medicines would tend less to obscure the divine glory than a show of punctilious morality in one who was not a " profes- sor." Besides, how was it to be known that the medicines would not be blessed, if taken with due trust in a higher influence ? A Christian must con-, sider not the medicines alone in their relation to our frail bodies (which are dust), but the medicines with Omnipotence behind them. Hence a pious vendor will look for "leadings," and he is likely to find them in the cessation of demand and the dispropor- tion of expenses and returns. The grocer was thus on his guard against the presumptuous disputant. " Mr. Lyon may understand you, sir," he replied. "He seems to be fond of your conversation. But you have too much of the pride of human learning for me. I follow no new lights." " Then follow an old one," said Felix, mischiev- ously disposed towards a sleek tradesman. " Follow the light of the old-fashioned Presbyterians that I 've heard sing at Glasgow. The preacher gives out the psalm, and then everybody sings a different tune, as it happens to turn up in their throats. It's a VOL. I. — 14 210 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. domineering thing to set a tune and expect every- body else to follow it. It 's a denial of private judgment." " Hush, hush, my young friend," said Mr. Lyon, hurt by this levity, which glanced at himself as well as at the deacon. " Play not with paradoxes. That caustic which you handle in order to scorch others, may happen to sear your own fingers and make them dead to the quality of things. 'T is difficult enough to see our way and keep our torch steady in this dim labyrinth ; to whirl the torch and dazzle the eyes of our fellow-seekers is a poor daring, and may end in total darkness. You yourself are a lover of freedom, and a bold rebel against usurp- ing authority. But the right to rebellion is the right to seek a higher rule, and not to wander in mere lawlessness. Wherefore, I beseech you, seem not to say that liberty is license. And I apprehend, — though I am not endowed with an ear to seize those earthly harmonies, which to some devout souls have seemed as it were the broken echoes of the heavenly choir, — I apprehend that there is a law in music, disobedience whereunto would bring us in our singing to the level of shrieking maniacs or howling beasts ; so that herein we are well instructed how true liberty can be nought but the transfer of obedience from the will of one or of a few men to that will which is the norm or rule for all men. And though the transfer may sometimes be but an erroneous direction of search, yet is the search good and necessary to the ultimate finding. And even as in music, where all obey and concur to one end, so that each has the joy of contributing to a whole whereby he is ravished and lifted up into the courts of heaven, so will it be in that crowning FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 21 r time of the millennial reign, when our daily prayer will be fulfilled, and one law shall be written on all hearts, and be the very structure of all thought, and be the principle of all action." Tired, even exhausted, as the minister had been when Felix Holt entered, the gathering excitement of speech gave more and more energy to his voice and manner ; he walked away from the vestry table, he paused and came back to it ; he walked away again, then came back, and ended with his deepest- toned largo, keeping his hands clasped behind him, while his brown eyes were bright with the lasting youthfulness of enthusiastic thought and love. But to any one who had no share in the energies that were thrilling his little body, he would have looked queer enough. No sooner had he finished his eager speech than he held out his hand to the deacon, and said, in his former faint tone of fatigue, — "God be with you, brother. We shall meet to-morrow, and we will see what can be done to subdue these refractory spirits." When the deacon was gone, Felix said, " Forgive me, Mr. Lyon ; I was wrong, and you are right." " Yes, yes, my friend ; you have that mark of grace within you, that you are ready to acknowl- edge the justice of a rebuke. Sit down ; you have something to say, — some packet there." They sat down at a corner of the small table, and Felix drew the note-book from his pocket to lay it down with the pocket-book, saying, — " I 've had the ill-luck to be the finder of these things in the Debarrys' Park. Most likely they belong to one of the family at the Manor, or to some grandee who is staying there. I hate having anything to do with such people. They '11 think me 212 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. a poor rascal, and offer me money. You are a known man, and I thought you would be kind enough to relieve me by taking charge of these things, and writing to Debarry, not mentioning me, and asking him to send some one for them. I found them on the grass in the park this evening about half-past seven, in the corner we cross going to Sproxton." " Stay," said Mr. Lyon, " this little book is open ; we may venture to look in it for some sign of owner- ship. There be others who possess property, and might be crossing that end of the park, besides the Debarrys." As he lifted the note-book close to his eyes, the chain again slipped out. He arrested it and held it in his hand, while he examined some writing, which appeared to be a name on the inner leather. He looked long, as if he were trying to decipher some- thing that was partly rubbed out ; and his hands began to tremble noticeably. He made a movement in an agitated manner, as if he were going to examine the chain and seals, which he held in his hand. But he checked himself, closed his hand again, and rested it on the table, while with the other hand he pressed the sides of the note-book together. Felix observed his agitation, and was much sur- prised ; but with a delicacy of which he was capa- ble under all his abruptness, he said, " You are overcome with fatigue, sir. I was thoughtless to tease you with these matters at the end of Sunday, when you have been preaching three sermons." Mr. Lyon did not speak for a few moments, but at last he said, — " It is true. I am overcome. It was a name I FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 213 saw, — a name that called up a past sorrow. Fear not ; I will do what is needful with these things. You may trust them to me." With trembling fingers he replaced the chain, and tied both the large pocket-book and the note- book in his handkerchief. He was evidently mak- ing a great effort over himself. But when he had gathered the knot of the handkerchief in his hand, he said, — " Give me your arm to the door, my friend. I feel ill. Doubtless I am over-wearied." The door was already open, and Lyddy was watching for her master's return. Felix therefore said good-night and passed on, sure that this was what Mr. Lyon would prefer. The minister's sup- per of warm porridge was ready by the kitchen fire, where he always took it on a Sunday evening, and afterwards smoked his weekly pipe up the broad chimney, — the one great relaxation he allowed himself. Smoking, he considered, was a recreation of the travailed spirit, which, if indulged in, might endear this world to us by the ignoble bonds of mere sensuous ease. Daily smoking might be law- ful, but it was not expedient. And in this Esther concurred with a doctrinal eagerness that was un- usual in her. It was her habit to go to her own room, professedly to bed, very early on Sundays, — immediately on her return from chapel, — that she might avoid her father's pipe. But this evening she had remained at home, under a true plea of not feeling well; and when she heard him enter, she ran out of the parlour to meet him. " Father, you are ill," she said, as he tottered to the wicker-bottomed arm-chair, while Lyddy stood by, shaking her head. 214 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " No, my dear," he answered feebly, as she took off his hat and looked in his face inquiringly ; " I am weary." " Let me lay these things down for you," said Esther, touching the bundle in the handkerchief. " No ; they are matters which I have to examine," he said, laying them on the table, and putting his arm across them. " Go you to bed, Lyddy." " Not me, sir. If ever a man looked as if he was struck with death, it 's you, this very night as here is." " Nonsense, Lyddy ! " said Esther, angrily. " Go to bed when my father desires it. I will stay with him." Lyddy was electrified by surprise at this new behaviour of Miss Esther's. She took her candle silently and went. " Go you too, my dear," said Mr. Lyon, tenderly, giving his hand to Esther, when Lyddy was gone. " It is your wont to go early. Why are you up ? " " Let me lift your porridge from before the fire, and stay with you, father. You think I 'm so naughty that I don't like doing anything for you," said Esther, smiling rather sadly at him. " Child, what has happened ? You have become the image of your mother to-night," said the min- ister, in a loud whisper. The tears came and re- lieved him ; while Esther, who had stooped to lift the porridge from the fender, paused on one knee and looked up at him. " She was very good to you ? " asked Esther, softly. "Yes, dear. She did not reject my affection. She thought not scorn of my love. She would have forgiven me, if I had erred against her, from very tenderness. Could you forgive me, child ? " FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 215 " Father, I have not been good to you ; but I will be, I will be," said Esther, laying her head on his knee. He kissed her head. "Go to bed, my dear; I would be alone." When Esther was lying down that night, she felt as if the little incidents between herself and her father on this Sunday had made it an epoch. Very slight words and deeds may have a sacramen- tal efficacy, if we can cast our self-love behind us in order to say or do them. And it has been well believed through many ages that the beginning of compunction is the beginning of a new life ; that the mind which sees itself blameless may be called dead in trespasses, — in trespasses on the love of others, in trespasses on their weakness, in trespasses on all those great claims which are the image of our own need. But Esther persisted in assuring herself that she was not bending to any criticism from Felix. She was full of resentment against his rudeness, and yet more against his too harsh conception of her char- acter. She was determined to keep as much at a distance from him as possible. CHAPTER XIV. This man 's metallic ; at a sudden blow His soul rings hard. I cannot lay my palm, Trembling with life, upon that jointed brass. I shudder at the cold, anansweriug touch ; But if it press me in response, I 'm bruised. The next morning, when the Debarrys, including the Sector, who had ridden over to the Manor early, were still seated at breakfast, Christian came in with a letter, saying that it had been brought by a man employed at the chapel in Malthouse Yard, who had been ordered by the minister to use all speed and care in the delivery. The letter was addressed to Sir Maximus. " Stay, Christian, it may possibly refer to the lost pocket-book," said Philip Debarry, who was begin- ning to feel rather sorry for his factotum, as a re- action from previous suspicions and indignation. Sir Maximus opened the letter and felt for his glasses, but then said, " Here, you read it, Phil ; the man writes a hand like small print." Philip cast his eyes over it, and then read aloud in a tone of satisfaction : — Sir, — I send this letter to apprise you that I have now in my possession certain articles which last evening, at about half-past seven o'clock, were found lying on the grass at the western extremity of your park. The articles are, 1°, a well-filled pocket-book, of brown leather, fastened with a black ribbon and FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 217 with a seal of red wax ; 2°, a small note-book, covered with gilded vellum, whereof the clasp was burst, and from out whereof had partly escaped a small gold chain, with seals and a locket attached, the locket bearing on the back a device, and round the face a female name. Wherefore I request that you vvill further my effort to place these articles in the right hands, by ascertain^ ing whether any person within your walls claims them as his property, and by sending that person to me (if such be found) ; for I will on no account let them pass from my care save into that of one who, declaring himself to be the owner, can state to me what is the impression on the seal, and what the device and name upon the locket. I am, Sir, yours to command in all right dealing, Rufus Lyon. Malthodse Yard, Oct. 3, 1832. " Well done, old Lyon," said the Eector ; " I did n't think that any composition of his would ever give me so much pleasure." " What an old fox it is ! " said Sir Maximus. " Why could n't he send the things to me at once along with the letter ? " " No, no, Max ; he uses a justifiable caution," said the Rector, a refined and rather severe like- ness of his brother, with a ring of fearlessness and decision in his voice which startled all flaccid men and unruly boys. " What are you going to do, Phil?" he added, seeing his nephew rise. " To write, of course. Those other matters are yours, I suppose ? " said Mr. Debarry, looking at Christian. " Yes, sir." " I shall send you with a letter to the preacher. You can describe your own property. And the seal, uncle, — was it your coat-of-arms ? " 2i 8 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " No, it was this head of Achilles. Here, I can take it off the ring, and you can carry it, Christian. But don't lose that, for I 've had it ever since eighteen hundred. I should like to send my com- pliments with it," the Rector went on, looking at his brother, " and beg that since he has so much wise caution at command, he would exercise a little in more public matters, instead of making himself a firebrand in my parish, and teaching hucksters and tape-weavers that it 's their business to dictate to statesmen." " How did Dissenters and Methodists and Qua- kers and people of that sort first come up, uncle ? " said Miss Selina, a radiant girl of twenty, who had given much time to the harp. " Dear me, Selina," said her elder sister, Harriet, whose forte was general knowledge, " don't you remember ' Woodstock ' ? They were in Cromwell's time." " Oh ! Holdenough, and those people ? Yes ; but they preached in the churches ; they had no chapels. Tell me, Uncle Gus ; I like to be wise," said Selina, looking up at the face which was smiling down on her with a sort of severe benignity. " Phil says I 'in an ignorant puss." " The seeds of Nonconformity were sown at the Reformation, my dear, when some obstinate men made scruples about surplices and the place of the communion-table, and other trifles of that sort. But the Quakers came up about Cromwell's time, and the Methodists only in the last century. The first Methodists were regular clergymen, the more 's the pity." " But all those wrong things, — why did n't gov- ernment put them down ? " FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 219 " Ah, to be sure ! " fell in Sir Maximus, in a cordial tone of corroboration. " Because error is often strong, and government is often weak, my dear. Well, Phil, have you finished your letter?" " Yes, I will read it to you," said Philip, turning and leaning over the back of his chair with the letter in his hand. There is a portrait of Mr. Philip Debarry still to be seen at Treby Manor, and a very fine bust of him at Rome, where he died fifteen years later, a convert to Catholicism. Plis face would have been plain but for the exquisite setting of his hazel eyes, which fascinated even the dogs of the household. The other features, though slight and irregular, were redeemed from triviality by the stamp of gravity and intellectual preoccupation in his face and bearing. As he read aloud, his voice was what his uncle's might have been if it had been modulated by delicate health and a visitation of self-doubt. Sir, — In reply to the letter with which you have favoured me this morning, I beg to state that the articles you describe were lost from the pocket of my servant, who is the bearer of this letter to you, and is the claimant of the vellum note-book and the gold chain. The large leathern pocket-book is my own property, and the impression on the wax, a helmeted head of Ac-hilles, was made by my uncle, the Rev. Augustus Debarry, who allows me to forward his seal to you in proof that I am not making a mistaken claim. I feel myself under deep obligation to you, sir, for the care and trouble yon have taken in order to restore to its right owner a piece of property which happens to be of particular importance to me. And I shall coir 220 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. sider myself doubly fortunate if at any time you can point out to me some method by which I may procure you as lively a satisfaction as I am now feeling, in that full and speedy relief from anxiety which I owe to your considerate conduct. I remain, Sir, your obliged and faithful servant, Philip Debarry. "You know best, Phil, of course," said Sir Maxi- mus, pushing his plate from him by way of in- terjection. " But it seems to me you exaggerate preposterously every little service a man happens to do for you. Why should you make a general offer of that sort ? How do you know what he will be asking you to do ? Stuff and nonsense ! Tell Willis to send him a few head of game. You should think twice before you give a blank check of that sort to one of these quibbling, meddlesome Radicals." " You are afraid of my committing myself to ' the bottomless perjury of an et cetera,' " said Philip, smiling, as he turned to fold his letter. " But I think I am not doing any mischief ; at all events, I could not be content to say less. And I have a notion that he would regard a present of game just now as an insult. I should, in his place." "Yes, yes, you; but you don't make yourself a measure of Dissenting preachers, I hope," said Sir Maximus, rather wrathfully. "What do you say, Gus?" "Phil is right," said the Rector, in an absolute tone. " I would not deal with a Dissenter, or put profits into the pocket of a Radical which I might put into the pocket of a good Churchman and a quiet subject. But if the greatest scoundrel in the FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 221 world made way for me, or picked my hat up, I would thank him. So would you, Max." "Pooh! I didn't mean that one should n't be- have like a gentleman," said Sir Maximus, in some vexation. He had great pride in his son's superi- ority even to himself ; but he did not enjoy having his own opinion argued down as it always was, and did not quite trust the dim vision opened by Phil's new words and new notions. He could only submit in silence while the letter was delivered to Christian, with the order to start for Malthouse Yard immediately. Meanwhile, in that somewhat dim locality the possible claimant of the note-book and the chain was thought of and expected with palpitating agi- tation. Mr. Lyon was seated in his study, looking haggard and already aged from a sleepless night. He was so afraid lest his emotion should deprive him of the presence of mind necessary to the due attention to particulars in the coming interview, that he continued to occupy his sight and touch with the objects which had stirred the depths, not only of memory, but of dread. Once again he unlocked a small box which stood beside his desk, and took from it a little oval locket, and compared this with one which hung with the seals on the stray gold chain. There was the same device in enamel on the back of both, — clasped hands surrounded with blue flowers. Both had round the face a name in gold italics on a blue ground : the name on the locket taken from the drawer was Maurice ; the name on the locket which hung with the seals was Annette, and within the circle of this name there was a lover's knot of li^ht-brown hair, which matched a curl that lay in the box. The hair in 222 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. the locket which bore the name of Maurice was of a very dark brown, and before returning it to the drawer Mr. Lyon noted the colour and quality of this hair more carefully than ever. Then he re- curred to the note-book : undoubtedly there had been something, probably a third name, beyond the names Maurice Christian, which had themselves been rubbed and slightly smeared as if by accident ; and from the very first examination in the vestry, Mr. Lyon could not prevent himself from trans- ferring the mental image of the third name in faint lines to the rubbed leather. The leaves of the note- book seemed to have been recently inserted ; they were of fresh white paper, and only bore some ab- breviations in pencil with a notation of small sums. Nothing could be gathered from the comparison of the writing in the book with that of the yellow letters which lay in the box : the smeared name had been carefully printed, and so bore no resem- blance to the signature of those letters ; and the pencil abbreviations and figures had been made too hurriedly to bear any decisive witness. " I will ask him to write, — to write a description of the locket," had been one of Mr. Lyon's thoughts ; but he faltered in that intention. His power of fulfilling it must depend on what he saw in this visitor, of whose coming he had a horrible dread, at the very time he was writing to demand it. In that demand he was obeying the voice of his rigid conscience, which had never left him perfectly at rest under his one act of deception, — the concealment from Esther that he was not her natural father, the assertion of a false claim upon her. " Let my path be henceforth simple," he had said to himself in the anguish of that night ; " let me seek to know FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 223 what is, and if possible to declare it." If he was really going to find himself face to face with the man who had been Annette's husband, and who was Esther's father, — if that wandering of his from the light had brought the punishment of a blind sacrilege as the issue of a conscious transgression, — he prayed that he might be able to accept all con- sequences of pain to himself. But he saw other possibilities concerning the claimant of the book and chain. His ignorance and suspicions as to the history and character of Annette's husband made it credible that he had laid a plan for convincing her of his death as a means of freeing himself from a burthensome tie ; but it seemed equally probable that he was really dead, and that these articles of property had been a bequest or a payment or even a sale to their present owner. Indeed, in all these years there was no knowing into how many hands such pretty trifles might have passed. And the claimant might, after all, have no connection with the Debarrys ; he might not come on this day or the next. There might be more time left for re- flection and prayer. All these possibilities, which would remove the pressing need for difficult action, Mr. Lyon repre- sented to himself, but he had no effective belief in them ; his belief went with his strongest feeling, and in these moments his strongest feeling was dread. He trembled under the weight that seemed already added to his own sin ; he felt himself already confronted by Annette's husband and Esther's father. Perhaps the father was a gen- tleman on a visit to the Debarrys. There was no hindering the pang with which the old man said to himself, — 224 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " The child will not be sorry to leave this poor home, and I shall be guilty in her sight." He was walking about among the rows of books when there came a loud rap at the outer door. The rap shook him so that he sank into his chair, feel- ing almost powerless. Lyddy presented herself. " Here 's ever such a fine man from the Manor wants to see you, sir. Dear heart, dear heart ! shall I tell him you 're too bad to see him ? " " Show him up," said Mr. Lyon, making an effort to rally. When Christian appeared, the minister half rose, leaning on an arm of his chair, and said, " Be seated, sir," seeing nothing but that a tall man was entering. " I 've brought you a letter from Mr. Debarry," said Christian, in an off-hand manner. This rusty little man, in his dismal chamber, seemed to the Ulysses of the steward's room a pitiable sort of human curiosity, to whom a man of the world Would speak rather loudly, in accommodation to an eccentricity which was likely to be accompanied With deafness. One cannot be eminent in every- thing ; and if Mr. Christian had dispersed his facul- ties in study that would have enabled him to share unconventional points of view, he might have worn a mistaken kind of boot, and been less competent to win at ecarte or at betting or in any other con- test suitable to a person of figure. As he seated himself, Mr. Lyon opened the letter, and held it close to his eyes, so that his face was hidden. But at the word " servant " he could not avoid starting, and looking off the letter towards the bearer. Christian, knowing what was in the letter., conjectured that the old man was amazed to learn that so distinguished-looking a personage Mr. Lyon and Christian. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 225 was a servant ; he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, balanced his cane on his fingers, and began a whispering whistle. The minister checked himself, finishing the reading of the letter, and then slowly and nervously put on his spectacles to survey this man, between whose fate and his own there might be a terrible collision. The word " servant " had been a fresh caution to him. He must do noth- ing rashly. Esther's lot was deeply concerned. " Here is the seal mentioned in the letter," said Christian. Mr. Lyon drew the pocket-book from his desk, and after comparing the seal with the impression, said, " It is right, sir ; I deliver the pocket-book to you." He held it out with the seal ; and Christian rose to take them, saying carelessly, " The other things — the chain and the little book — are mine." " Your name then is — " " Maurice Christian." A spasm shot through Mr. Lyon. It had seemed possible that he might hear another name, and be freed from the worse half of his anxiety. His next words were not wisely chosen, but escaped him impulsively. " And you have no other name ? " " What do you mean ? " said Christian, sharply. " Be so good as to reseat yourself." Christian did not comply. " I 'm rather in a hurry, sir," he said, recovering his coolness. " If it suits you to restore to me those small articles of mine, I shall be glad ; but I would rather leave them be- hind than be detained." He had reflected that the minister was simply a punctilious old bore. The question meant nothing else. But Mr. Lyon had VOL. I. — 15 226 FELIX HOLT, THE -RADICAL. wrought himself up to the task of finding out, then and there, if possible, whether or not this were Annette's husband. How could he lay himself and his sin before God if he wilfully declined to learn the truth ? " Nay, sir, I will not detain you unreasonably," he said in a firmer tone than before. " How long have these articles been your property ? " " Oh, for more than twenty years," said Christian, carelessly. He was not altogether easy under the minister's persistence, but for that very reason he showed no more impatience. " You have been in France and in Germany ? " " I have been in most countries on the Continent." "Be so good as to write me your name," said Mr. Lyon, dipping a pen in the ink, and holding it out with a piece of paper. Christian was much surprised, but not now greatly alarmed. In his rapid conjectures as to the expla- nation of the minister's curiosity, he had alighted on one which might carry advantage rather than in- convenience. But he was not going to commit himself. " Before I oblige you there, sir," he said, laying down the pen, and looking straight at Mr. Lyon, " I must know exactly the reasons you have for putting these questions to me. You are a stranger to me, — an excellent person, I dare say, — but I have no concern about you farther than to get from you those small articles. Do you still doubt that they are mine ? You wished, I think, that I should tell you what the locket is like. It has a pair of hands and blue flowers on one side, and the name Annette round the hair on the other side. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 227 That is all I have to say. If you wish for anything more from me, you will be good enough to tell me why you wish it. Now then, sir, what is your concern with me ? " The cool stare, the hard challenging voice, with which these words were uttered, made them fall like the beating, cutting chill of heavy hail on Mr. Lyon. He sank back in his chair in utter irresolu- tion and helplessness. How was it possible to lay bare the sad and sacred past in answer to such a call as this? The dread with which he had thought of this man's coming, the strongly con- firmed suspicion that he was really Annette's hus- band, intensified the antipathy created by his gestures and glances. The sensitive little minister knew instinctively that words which would cost him efforts as painful as the obedient footsteps of a wounded, bleeding hound that wills a foreseen throe, would fall on this man as the pressure of tender fingers falls on a brazen glove. And Esther, — if this man was her father, — every additional word might help to bring down irrevocable, perhaps cruel, consequences on her. A thick mist seemed to have fallen where Mr. Lyon was looking for the track of duty ; the difficult question, how far he was to care for consequences in seeking and avow- ing the truth, seemed anew obscured. All these things, like the vision of a coming calamity, were compressed into a moment of consciousness. Noth- ing could be done to-day ; everything must be de- ferred. He answered Christian in a low, apologetic tone, — " It is true, sir ; you have told me all I can demand. I have no sufficient reason for detaining your property further." 228 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. He handed the note-book and chain to Christian, who had been observing him narrowly, and now said in a tone of indifference, as he pocketed the articles, — " Very good, sir. I wish you a good-morning." " Good-morning," said Mr. Lyon, feeling, while the door closed behind his guest, that mixture of uneasiness and relief which all procrastination of difficulty produces in minds capable of strong fore- cast. The work was still to be done. He had still before him the task of learning everything that could be learned about this man's relation to himself and Esther. Christian, as he made his way back along Malt- house Lane, was thinking, " This old fellow has got some secret in his head. It 's not likely he can know anything about me ; it must be about Bycliffe. But Bycliffe was a gentleman ; how should he ever have had anything to do with such a seedy old ranter as that?" CHAPTER XV. And doubt shall be as lead upon the feet Of thy most anxious will. Mr. Lyon was careful to look in at Felix as soon as possible after Christian's departure, to tell him that his trust was discharged. During the rest of the day he was somewhat relieved from agitating re- flections by the necessity of attending to his minis- terial duties, the rebuke of rebellious singers being one of them ; and on his return from the Monday evening prayer-meeting he was so overcome with weariness that he went to bed without taking note of any objects in his study. But when he rose the next morning, his mind, once more eagerly active, was arrested by Philip Debarry's letter, which still lay open on his desk, and was arrested by precisely that portion which had been unheeded the day before : — " I shall consider myself doubly fortunate if at any time you can point out to me some method by which I may procure you as lively a satisfaction as I am now feeling, in that full and speedy relief from anxiety which I owe to your considerate conduct." To understand how these words could carry the suggestion they actually had for the minister in a crisis of peculiar personal anxiety and struggle, we must bear in mind that for many years he had 2 3 o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. walked through life with the sense of having for a space been unfaithful to what he esteemed the highest trust ever committed to man, — the min- isterial vocation. In a mind of any nobleness, a lapse into transgression against an object still re- garded as supreme, issues in a new and purer devot- edness, chastised by humility and watched over by a passionate regret. So it was with that ardent spirit which animated the little body of Eufus Lyon. Once in his life he had been blinded, deafened, hurried al6ng by rebellious impulse ; he had gone astray after his own desires, and had let the fire die out on the altar ; and as the true penitent, hating his self-besotted error, asks from all coming life duty instead of joy, and service instead of ease, so Eufus was perpetually on the watch lest he should ever again postpone to some private affection a great public opportunity which to him was equivalent to a command. Now here was an opportunity brought by a com- bination of that unexpected, incalculable kind which might be regarded as the Divine emphasis invoking especial attention to trivial events, — an opportunity of securing what Eufus Lyon had often wished for as a means of honouring truth, and exhibiting error in the character of a stammering, halting, short- breathed usurper of office and dignity. What was more exasperating to a zealous preacher, with whom copious speech was not a difficulty but a relief, — who never lacked argument, but only combatants and listeners, — than to reflect that there were thousands on thousands of pulpits in this kingdom, supplied with handsome sounding-boards, and oc- cupying an advantageous position in buildings far larger than the chapel in Malthouse Yard, — build- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 231 ings sure to be places of resort, even as the markets were, if only from habit and interest ; and that these pulpits were filled, or rather made vacuous, by men whose privileged education in the ancient centres of instruction issued in twenty minutes' formal reading of tepid exhortation or probably infirm deductions from premises based on rotten scaffolding ? And it is in the nature of exaspera- tion gradually to concentrate itself. The sincere antipathy of a dog towards cats in general, necessa- rily takes the form of indignant barking at the neighbour's black cat which makes daily trespass ; the bark at imagined cats, though a frequent exer- cise of the canine mind, is yet comparatively feeble. Mr. Lyon's sarcasm was not without an edge when he dilated in general on an elaborate education for teachers which issued in the minimum of teaching, but it found a whetstone in the particular example of that bad system known as the Eector of Treby Magna. There was nothing positive to be said against the Eev. Augustus Debarry ; his life could not be pronounced blameworthy except for its nega- tives. And the good Eufus was too pure-minded not to be glad of that. He had no delight in vice as discrediting wicked opponents ; he shrank from dwelling on the images of cruelty or of grossness, and his indignation was habitually inspired only by those moral and intellectual mistakes which darken the soul but do not injure or degrade the temple of the body. If the Eector had been a less respectable man, Eufus would have more reluctantly made him an object of antagonism ; but as an incarnation of soul-destroying error, dissociated from those baser sins which have no good repute even with the worldly, it would be an argumentative luxury to 232 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. get into close quarters with him, and fight with a dialectic short-sword in the eyes of the Treby world (sending also a written account thereof to the chief organs of Dissenting opinion). Vice was essentially stupid, — a deaf and eyeless monster, insusceptible to demonstration : the Spirit might work on it by unseen ways, and the unstudied sallies of sermons were often as the arrows which pierced and awak- ened the brutified conscience ; but illuminated thought, finely dividing speech, were the choicer weapons of the Divine armory, which whoso could wield must be careful not to leave idle. Here, then, was the longed-for opportunity. Here was an engagement — an expression of a strong wish — on the part of Philip Debarry, if it were in his power, to procure a satisfaction to Eufus Lyon. How had that man of God and exemplary Indepen- dent minister, Mr. Ainsworth, of persecuted sanctity, conducted himself when a similar occasion had be- fallen him at Amsterdam ? He had thought of nothing but the glory of the highest cause, and had converted the offer of recompense into a public debate with a Jew on the chief mysteries of the faith. Here was a. model : the case was nothing short of a heavenly indication, and he, Rufus Lyon, would seize the occasion to demand a public debate with the Rector on the Constitution of the true Church. What if he were inwardly torn by doubt and anxiety concerning his own private relations and the facts of his past life? That danger of absorp- tion within the narrow bounds of self only urged him the more towards action which had a wider bearing, and might tell on the welfare of England at large. It was decided. Before the minister went FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 233 down to his breakfast that morning he had written the following letter to Mr. Philip Debarry : — Sir, — Referring to your letter of yesterday, I find the following words : " I shall consider myself doubly fortunate if at any time you can point out to me some method by which I may procure you as lively a satis- faction as I am now feeling, in that full and speedy relief from anxiety which I owe to your considerate conduct." I am not unaware, sir, that, in the usage of the world, there are words of courtesy (so called) which are understood, by those amongst whom they are cur- rent, to have no precise meaning, and to constitute no bond or obligation. I will not now insist that this is an abuse of language, wherein our fallible nature re- quires the strictest safeguards against laxity and mis- application, for I do not apprehend that in writing the words I have above quoted, you were open to the re- proach of using phrases which, while seeming to carry a specific meaning, were really no more than what is called a polite form. I believe, sir, that you used these words advisedly, sincerely, and with an honour- able intention of acting on them as a pledge, should such action be demanded. No other supposition on my part would correspond to the character you bear as a young man who aspires (albeit mistakenly) to engraft the finest fruits of public virtue on a creed and institu- tions whereof the sap is composed rather of human self-seeking than of everlasting truth. Wherefore I act on this my belief in the integrity of your written word; and I beg you to procure for me (as it is doubtless in your power) that I may be allowed a public discussion with your near relative, the Rector of this parish, the Reverend Augustus Debarry, to be held in the large room of the Free School, or in the Assembly Room of the Marquis of Grranby, these being the largest covered spaces at our command. For I 234 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. presume he would neither allow me to speak within his church, nor would consent himself to speak within my chapel; and the probable inclemency of the ap- proaching season forbids an assured expectation that we could discourse in the open air. The subjects I desire to discuss are, — first, the Constitution of the true Church; and, secondly, the bearing thereupon of the English Reformation. Confidently expecting that you will comply with this request, which is the se- quence of your expressed desire, I remain, sir, yours, with the respect offered to a sincere withstander, Rufus Lyon. Malthouse Yard. After writing this letter, the good Rufus felt that serenity and elevation of mind which is infallibly brought by a preoccupation with the wider relations of things. Already he was beginning to sketch the course his argument might most judiciously take in the coming debate ; his thoughts were running into sentences, and marking off careful exceptions in parenthesis ; and he had come down and seated him- self at the breakfast-table quite automatically, with- out expectation of toast or coffee, when Esther's voice and touch recalled him to an inward debate of another kind, in which he felt himself much weaker. Again there arose before him the image of that cool, hard-eyed, worldly man, who might be this dear child's father, and one against whose rights he had himself grievously offended. Always as the image recurred to him Mr. Lyon's heart sent forth a prayer for guidance, but no definite guidance had yet made itself visible for him. It could not be guidance, it was a temptation, that said, " Let the matter rest: seek to know no more; know only what is thrust upon you." The remembrance that FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 235 in his time of wandering he had wilfully remained in ignorance of facts which he might have inquired after, deepened the impression that it was now an imperative duty to seek the fullest attainable knowl- edge. And the inquiry might possibly issue in a blessed repose, by putting a negative on all his sus- picions. But the more vividly all the circumstances became present to him, the more unfit he felt him- self to set about any investigation concerning this man who called himself Maurice Christian. He could seek no confidant or helper among " the brethren ; " he was obliged to admit to himself that the members of his church, with whom he hoped to go to heaven, were not easy to converse with on earth touching the deeper secrets of his experience, and were still less able to advise him as to the wisest procedure, in a case of high delicacy, with a worldling who had a carefullv trimmed whisker and a fashionable costume. For the first time in his life it occurred to the minister that he should be glad of an adviser who had more worldly than spiritual experience, and that it might not be in- consistent with his principles to seek some light from one who had studied human law. But it was a thought to be paused upon, and not fol- lowed out rashly ; some other guidance might intervene. Esther noticed that her father was in a fit of abstraction, that he seemed to swallow his coffee and toast quite unconsciously, and that he vented from time to time a low guttural interjection, which was habitual with him when he was absorbed by an inward discussion. She did not disturb him by remarks, and only wondered whether anything un- usual had occurred on Sunday evening. But at 236 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. last she thought it needful to say, " You recollect what I told you yesterday, father ? " " Nay, child ; what ? " said Mr. Lyon, rousing himself. " That Mr. Jermyn asked me if you would prob- ably be at home this morning before one o'clock." Esther was surprised to see her father start and change colour as if he had been shaken by some sudden collision before he answered, — " Assuredly ; I do not intend to move from my study after I have once been out to give this letter to Zachary." " Shall I tell Lyddy to take him up at once to your study if he comes ? If not, I shall have to stay in my own room, because I shall be at home all this morning, and it is rather cold now to sit without a fire." " Yes, my dear, let him come up to me ; unless, indeed, he should bring a second person, which might happen, seeing that in all likelihood he is coming, as hitherto, on electioneering business. And I could not well accommodate two visitors upstairs." While Mr. Lyon went out to Zachary, the pew- opener, to give him a second time the commission of carrying a letter to Treby Manor, Esther gave her injunction to Lyddy that if one gentleman came he was to be shown upstairs, — if two, they were to be shown into the parlour. But she had to resolve various questions before Lyddy clearly saw what was expected of her, — as that " if it was the gentle- man as came on Thursday in the pepper-and-salt coat, was he to be shown upstairs ? And the gen- tleman from the Manor yesterday as went out whistling, — had Miss Esther heard about him? FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 237 There seemed no end of these great folks coming to Malthouse Yard since there was talk of the election ; tmt they might be poor lost creatures the most of 'em." Whereupon Lyddy shook her head and groaned, under an edifying despair as to the future lot of gentlemen callers. Esther always avoided asking questions of Lyddy, who found an answer as she found a key, by pour- ing out a pocketful of miscellanies. But she had remarked so many indications that something had happened to cause her father unusual excitement and mental preoccupation, that she could not help connecting with them the fact of this visit from the Manor, which he had not mentioned to her. She sat down in the dull parlour and took up her netting ; for since Sunday she had felt unable to read when she was alone, being obliged, in spite of herself, to think of Felix Holt, — to imagine what he would like her to be, and what sort of views he took of life so as to make it seem valuable in the absence of all elegance, luxury, gayety, or romance. Had he yet reflected that he had behaved very rudely to her on Sunday ? Perhaps not. Perhaps he had dismissed her from his mind with contempt. And at that thought Esther's eyes smarted unpleas- antly. She was fond of netting, because it showed to advantage both her hand and her foot ; and across this image of Felix Holt's indifference and contempt there passed the vaguer image of a possible some- body who would admire her hands and feet, and de- light in looking at their beauty, and long, yet not dare, to kiss them. Life would be much easier in the presence of such a love. But it was precisely this longing after her own satisfaction that Felix had reproached her with. Did he want her to be 238 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. heroic ? That seemed impossible without some great occasion. Her life was a heap of fragments, and so were her thoughts ; some great energy was needed to bind them together. Esther was beginning to lose her complacency at her own wit and criti- cism ; to lose the sense of superiority in an awaken- ing need for reliance on one whose vision was wider, whose nature was purer and stronger than her own. But then, she said to herself, that " one " must be tender to her, not rude and predominating in his manners. A man with any chivalry in him could never adopt a scolding tone towards a woman, — that is, towards a charming woman. But Felix had no chivalry in him. He loved lecturing and opinion too well ever to love any woman. In this way Esther strove to see that Felix was thoroughly in the wrong, — at least, if he did not come again expressly to show that he was sorry. CHAPTER XVI. Trueblue. These men have no votes. Why should I court them? Grayfox. No votes, but power. Trueblue. What ! over charities 1 Grayfox. No, over brains : which disturbs the canvass. In a natural state of things the average price of a vote at Paddlebrook is nine-and-sixpence, throwing the fifty-pound tenants, who cost nothing, into the divisor. But these talking men cause an artificial rise of prices. The expected important knock at the door came about twelve o'clock, and Esther could hear that there were two visitors. Immediately the parlour door was opened, and tne shaggy-haired, cravatless image of Felix Holt, which was just then full in the mirror of Esther's mind, was displaced by the highly contrasted appearance of a personage whose name she guessed before Mr. Jermyn had announced it. The perfect morning costume of that day dif- fered much from our present ideal ; it was essential that a gentleman's chin should be well propped, that his collar should have a voluminous roll, that his waistcoat should imply much discrimination, and that his buttons should be arranged in a manner which would now expose him to general contempt. And it must not be forgotten that at the distant period when Treby Magna first knew the excitements of an election, there existed many other anomalies now obsolete, besides short-waisted coats and broad stiffeners. 240 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. But we have some notions of beauty and fitness which withstand the centuries; and quite irrespec- tive of dates, it would be pronounced that at the age of thirty-four Harold Transome was a striking and handsome man. He was one of those people, as Denner had remarked, to whose presence in the room you could not be indifferent : if you do not hate or dread them, you must find the touch of their hands, nay, their very shadows, agreeable. Esther felt a pleasure quite new to her as she saw his finely embrowned face and full bright eyes turned towards her with an air of deference by which gallantry must commend itself to a refined woman who is not absolutely free from vanity. Harold Transome regarded women as slight things, but he was fond of slight things in the intervals of business ; and he held it among the chief arts of life to keep these pleasant diversions within such bounds that they should never interfere with the course of his serious ambition. Esther was per- fectly aware, as he took a chair near her, that he was under some admiring surprise at her appearance and manner. How could it be otherwise ? She believed that in the eyes of a high-bred man no young lady in Treby could equal her; she felt a glow of delight at the sense that she was being looked at. " My father expected you," she said to Mr. Jer- myn. " I delivered your letter to him yesterday. He will be down immediately." She disentangled her foot from her netting and wound it up. " I hope you are not going to let us disturb you," said Harold, noticing her action. " We come to EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 241 discuss election affairs, and we particularly desire to interest the ladies." " I have no interest with any one who is not al- ready on the right side," said Esther, smiling. " I am happy to see at least that you wear the Liberal colours." " I fear I must confess that it is more from love of blue than from love of Liberalism. Yellow opin- ions could only have brunettes on their side." Esther spoke with her usual pretty fluency, but she had no sooner uttered the words than she thought how angry they would have made Felix. " If my cause is to be recommended by the be- comingness of my colours, then I am sure you are acting in my interest by wearing them." Esther rose to leave the room. " Must you really go ? " said Harold, preparing to open the door for her. " Yes ; I have an engagement, — a lesson at half- past twelve," said Esther, bowing and floating out like a blue-robed Naiad, but not without a suffused blush as she passed through the doorway. It was a pity the room was so small, Harold Transome thought ; this girl ought to walk in a house where there were halls and corridors. But he had soon dismissed this chance preoccupation with Esther ; for before the door was closed again Mr. Lyon had entered, and Harold was entirely bent on what had been the object of bis visit. The minister, though no elector himself, had consider- able influence over Liberal electors, and it was the part of wisdom in a candidate to cement all politi- cal adhesion by a little personal regard, if possible. Garstin was a harsh and wiry fellow ; he seemed to suggest that sour whey, which some say was the VOL. I. — 16 242 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. original meaning of Whig in the Scottish, and it might assist the theoretic advantages of Eadicalism if it could be associated with a more generous pres- ence. What would conciliate the personal regard of old Mr. Lyon became a curious problem to Harold, now the little man made his appearance. But canvassing makes a gentleman acquainted with many strange animals, together with the ways of catching and taming them ; and thus the knowledge of natural history advances amongst the aristocracy and the wealthy commoners of our land. " I am very glad to have secured this opportunity of making your personal acquaintance, Mr. Lyon," said Harold, putting out his hand to the minister, when Jermyn had mentioned his name. " I am to address the electors here, in the Market-Place, to- morrow; and I should have been sorry to do so without first paying my respects privately to my chief friends, as there may be points on which they particularly wish me to explain myself." "You speak civilly, sir, and reasonably," said Mr. Lyon, with a vague short-sighted gaze, in which a candidate's appearance evidently went for nothing. " Pray be seated, gentlemen. It is my habit to stand." He placed himself at a right angle with his visi- tors, his worn look of intellectual eagerness, slight frame, and rusty attire, making an odd contrast with their flourishing persons, unblemished cos- tume, and comfortable freedom from excitement. 'The group was fairly typical of the difference be- tween the men who are animated by ideas and the men who are expected to apply them. Then he drew forth his spectacles, and began to rub them with the thin end of his coat-tail. He was in- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 243 wardly exercising great self-mastery, — suppressing the thought of his personal needs, which Jerniyn's presence tended to suggest, in order that he might be equal to the larger duties of this occasion. " I am aware, — Mr. Jenny 11 has told me," said Harold, — " what good service you have done me already, Mr. Lyon. The fact is, a man of intellect like you was especially needed in my case. The race I am running is really against Garstin only, who calls himself a Liberal, though he cares for nothing and understands nothing except the in- terests of the wealthy traders. And you have been able to explain the difference between Liberal and Liberal, which, as you and I know, is something like the difference between fish and fish." "Your comparison is not unapt, sir," said Mr. Lyon, still holding his spectacles in his hand, " at this epoch, when the mind of the nation has been strained on the passing of one measure. Where a great weight has to be moved, we require not so much selected instruments as abundant horse- power. But it is an unavoidable evil of these massive achievements that they encourage a coarse undiscriminatmgness obstructive of more nicely wrought results, and an exaggerated expectation inconsistent with the intricacies of our fallen and struggling condition. I say not that compromise is unnecessary, but it is an evil attendant on our imperfection ; and I would pray every one to mark that where compromise broadens, intellect and con- science are thrust into narrower room. Wherefore it has been my object to show our people that there are many who have helped to draw the car of Ee- form, whose ends are but partial, and who forsake not the ungodly principle of selfish alliances, but 244 EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. would only substitute Syria for Egypt, — thinking chiefly of their own share in peacocks, gold, and ivory." "Just so," said Harold, who was quick at new languages, and still quicker at translating other men's generalities into his own special and im- mediate purposes, "men who will be satisfied if they can only bring in a plutocracy, buy up the land, and stick the old crests on their new gate- ways. Now the practical point to secure against these false Liberals at present is that our electors should not divide their votes. As it appears that many who vote for Debarry are likely to split their votes in favour of Gars tin, it is of the first consequence that my voters should give me plum- pers. If they divide their votes they can't keep out Debarry, and they may help to keep out me. I feel some confidence in asking you to use your influence in this direction, Mr. Lyon. We candi- dates have to praise ourselves more than is grace- ful ; but you are aware that while I belong by my birth to the classes that have their roots in tradition and all the old loyalties, my experience has lain chiefly among those who make their own career, and depend on the new rather than the old. I have had the advantage of considering national welfare under varied lights ; I have wider views than those of a mere cotton lord. On questions connected with religious liberty I would stop short at no measure that was not thorough." " I hope not, sir, — I hope not," said Mr. Lyon, gravely ; finally putting on his spectacles and ex- amining the face of the candidate, whom he was preparing to turn into a catechumen. For the good Rufus, conscious of his political importance FELIX HOLT, THE HAD1CAL. 245 as an organ of persuasion, felt it his duty to cate- chise a little, and also to do his part towards im- pressing a probable legislator with a sense of his responsibility. But the latter branch of duty somewhat obstructed the catechising, for his mind was so urged by considerations which he held in danger of being overlooked, that the questions and answers bore a very slender proportion to his ex- position. It was impossible to leave the question of church-rates without noting the grounds of their injustice, and without a brief enumeration of reasons why Mr. Lyon, for his own part, would not present that passive resistance to a legal im- position which had been adopted by the Friends (whose heroism in this regard was nevertheless worthy of all honour). Comprehensive talkers are apt to be tiresome when we are not athirst for information ; but, to be quite fair, we must admit that superior reti- cence is a good deal due to the lack of matter. Speech is often barren ; but silence also does not necessarily brood over a full nest. Your still fowl, blinking at you without remark, may all the while be sitting on one addled nest-egg ; and when it takes to cackling, will have nothing to announce but that addled delusion. Harold Transome was not at all a patient man, but in matters of business he was quite awake to his cue, and in this case it was perhaps easier to listen than to answer questions. But Jermyn, who had plenty of work on his hands, took an opportunity of rising, and saying, as he looked at his watch, — "I must really be at the office in five minutes. You will find me there, Mr. Transome; you have probably still many things to say to Mr. Lyon." 246 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " I beseech you, sir," said the minister, changing colour, and by a quick movement laying his hand on Jermyn's arm, — "I beseech you to favour me with an interview on some private business, — this even- ing, if it were possible." Mr. Lyon, like others who are habitually occupied with impersonal subjects, was liable to this impulsive sort of action. He snatched at the details of life as if they were darting past him. — as if they were like the ribbons at his knees, which would never be tied all day if they were not tied on the instant. Through these spasmodic leaps out of his abstrac- tions into real life, it constantly happened that he suddenly took a course which had been the subject of too much doubt with him ever to have been de- termined on by continuous thought. And if Jermyn had not startled him by threatening to vanish just when he was plunged in politics, he might never have made up his mind to confide in a worldly attorney. ("An odd man," as Mrs. Muscat observed, "to have such a gift in the pulpit. But there's One knows better than we do," — which, in a lady who rarely felt her judgment at a loss, was a concession that showed much piety.) Jermyn was surprised at the little man's eager- ness. " By all means," he answered quite cordially. " Could you come to my office at eight o'clock ? " "For several reasons I must beg you to come to me." " Oh, very good ! I '11 walk out and see you this evening, if possible. I shall have much pleasure in being of any use to you." Jermyn felt that in the eyes of Harold he was appearing all the more valu- able when his services were thus in request. He FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 247 went out ; and Mr. Lyon easily relapsed into politics, for he had been on the brink of a favourite subject on which he was at issue with his fellow-Liberals. At that time, when faith in the efficacy of politi- cal change was at fever-heat in ardent Eeformers, many measures which men are still discussing with little confidence on either side were then talked about and disposed of like property in near rever- sion. Crying abuses — " bloated paupers," " bloated pluralists," and other corruptions hindering men from being wise and happy — had to be fought against and slain. Such a time is a time of hope. Afterwards, when the corpses of those monsters have been held up to the public wonder and ab- horrence, and yet wisdom and happiness do not follow, but rather a more abundant breeding of the foolish and unhappy, comes a time of doubt and despondency. But in the great Reform-year Hope was mighty ; the prospect of Reform had even served the voters instead of drink ; and in one place, at least, there had been " a dry elec- tion." And now the speakers at Reform banquets were exuberant in congratulation and promise : Lib- eral clergymen of the Establishment toasted Liberal Catholic clergymen without any allusion to scarlet, and Catholic clergymen replied with a like tender reserve. Some dwelt on the abolition of all abuses, and on millennial blessedness generally ; others, whose imaginations were less suffused with ex- halations of the dawn, insisted chiefly on the ballot-box. Now on this question of the ballot the minister strongly took the negative side. Our pet. opinions are usually those which place us in a minority of a minority amongst our own party ; very bappily 248 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. else those poor opinions, born with no silver spoon in their months, — how would they get nourished and fed ? So it was with Mr. Lyon and his objec- tion to the ballot. But he had thrown out a remark on the subject which was not quite clear to his hearer, who interpreted it according to his best cal- culation of probabilities. " I have no objection to the ballot," said Harold, " but I think that is not the sort of thing we have to work at just now. We should n't get it. And other questions are imminent." " Then, sir, you would vote for the ballot ? " said Mr. Lyon, stroking his chin. " Certainly, if the point came up. I have too much respect for the freedom of the voter to oppose anything which offers a chance of making that free- dom more complete." Mr. Lyon looked at the speaker with a pitying smile and a subdued " H'm-m-m," which Harold took for a sign of satisfaction. He was soon undeceived. " You grieve me, sir ; you grieve me much. And I pray you to reconsider this question, for it will take you to the root, as I think, of political morality. I engage to show to any impartial mind, duly fur- nished with the principles of public and private rec- titude, that the ballot would be pernicious, and that if it were not pernicious it would still be futile. I will show, first, that it would be futile as a preserva- tive from bribery and illegitimate influence ; and, secondly, that it would be in the worst kind per- nicious, as shutting the door against those influences whereby the soul of a man and the character of a citizen are duly educated for their great functions. Be not alarmed if I detain you, sir. It is well worth the while." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 249 " Confound this old man ! " thought Harold. " I '11 never make a canvassing call on a preacher again, unless he has lost his voice from a cold." He was going to excuse himself as prudently as he could, by deferring the subject till the morrow, and inviting Mr. Lyon to come to him in the committee-room before the time appointed for his public speech ; but he was relieved by the opening of the door. Lyddy put in her head to say, — " If you please, sir, here 's Mr. Holt wants to know if he may come in and speak to the gentle- man. He begs your pardon, but you 're to say ' no ' if you don't like him to come." " Nay ; show him in at once, Lyddy. A young man," Mr. Lyon went on, speaking to Harold, " whom a representative ought to know, — no voter, but a man of ideas and study." " He is thoroughly welcome," said Harold, truth- fully enough, though he felt little interest in the voteless man of ideas except as a diversion from the subject of the ballot. He had been standing for the last minute or two, feeling less of a victim in that attitude, and more able to calculate on means of escape. " Mr. Holt, sir," said the minister, as Felix en- tered, " is a young friend of mine, whose opinions on some points I hope to see altered, but who has a zeal for public justice which I trust he will never lose." " I am glad to see Mr. Holt," said Harold, bowing. He perceived from the way in which Felix bowed to him and turned to the most distant spot in the room, that the candidate's shake of the hand would not be welcome here. " A formidable fellow," he thought, " capable of mounting a cart in the market- 250 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. place to-morrow and cross-examining me, if I say anything that does n't please him," " Mr. Lyon," said Felix, " I have taken a liberty with you in asking to see Mr. Transome when he is engaged with you. But I have to speak to him on a matter which I should n't care to make public at present, and it is one on which I am sure you will back me. I heard that Mr. Transome was here, so I ventured to come. I hope you will both excuse me, as my business refers to some electioneering measures which are being taken by Mr. Transome's agents." " Pray go on," said Harold, expecting something unpleasant. " I 'm not going to speak against treating voters," said Felix ; " I suppose buttered ale, and grease of that sort to make the wheels go, belong to the nec- essary humbug of Representation. But I wish to ask you, Mr. Transome, whether it is with your knowledge that agents of yours are bribing rough fellows who are no voters — the colliers and nav- vies at Sproxton — with the chance of extra drunk- enness, that they may make a posse on your side at the nomination and polling ? " "Certainlv not," said Harold. "You are aware, my dear sir, that a candidate is very much at the mercy of his agents as to the means by which he is returned, especially when many years' absence has made him a stranger to the men actually conduct- ing business. But are you sure of your facts ? " " As sure as my senses can make me," said Felix, who then briefly described what had happened on Sunday. " I believed that you were ignorant of all this, Mr. Transome," he ended, " and that was why I thought some good might be done by speaking to FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 251 you. If not, I should be tempted to expose the whole affair as a disgrace to the Eadical party. I 'm a Radical myself, and mean to work all my life long against privilege, monopoly, and oppres- sion. But I would rather be a livery-servant proud of my master's title, than I would seem to make common cause with scoundrels who turn the best hopes of men into bywords for cant and dis- honesty." " Your energetic protest is needless here, sir," said Harold, offended at what sounded like a threat, and was certainly premature enough to be in bad taste. In fact, this error of behaviour in Felix pro- ceeded from a repulsion which was mutual. It was a constant source of irritation to him that the public men on his side were, on the whole, not conspicuously better than the public men on the other side; that the spirit of innovation, which with him was a part of religion, was in many of its mouthpieces no more of a religion than the faith in rotten boroughs ; and he was thus predisposed to distrust Harold Transome. Harold, in his turn, disliked impracticable notions of loftiness and purity, — disliked all enthusiasm ; and he thought he saw a very troublesome, vigorous incorporation of that nonsense in Felix. But it would be foolish to exas- perate him in any way. — -* " If you choose to accompany me to Jermyn's office," he went on, " the matter shall be inquired into in your presence. I think you will agree with me, Mr. Lyon, that this will be the most satisfactory course ? " "Doubtless," said the minister, who liked the candidate very well, and believed that he would be amenable to argument; "and I would cautiou 252 FELIX HOLT, THE EADICAL. my young friend against a too great hastiness of words and action. David's cause against Saul was a righteous one ; nevertheless not all who clave unto David were righteous men." "The more was the pity, sir," said Felix, "es- pecially if he winked at their malpractices." Mr. Lyon smiled, shook his head, and stroked his favourite's arm deprecatingly. " It is rather too much for any man to keep the consciences of all his party," said Harold. " If you had lived in the East, as I have, you would be more tolerant. More tolerant, for example, of an active, industrious selfishness, such as we have here, though it may not always be quite scrupulous ; you would see how much better it is than an idle selfishness. I have heard it said, a bridge is a good thing, — worth helping to make, though half the men who worked at it were rogues." " Oh, yes ! " said Felix, scornfully, " give me a handful of generalities and analogies, and I '11 un- dertake to justify Burke and Hare, and prove them benefactors of their species. I '11 tolerate no nui- sances but such as I can't help ; and the question now is, not whether we can do away with all the nuisances in the world, but with a particular nui- sance under our noses." " Then we had better cut the matter short, as I propose, by going at once to Jermyn's," said Harold. "In that case I must bid you good-morning, Mr. Lyon." " I would fain," said the minister, looking uneasy, — "I would fain have had a further opportunity of considering that question of the ballot with you. The reasons against it need not be urged lengthily ; they only require complete enumeration to prevent FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 253 any seeming hiatus, where an opposing fallacy might thrust itself in." " Never fear, sir," said Harold, shaking Mr. Lyon's hand cordially, " there will be opportunities. Shall I not see you in the committee-room to-morrow ? " " I think not," said Mr. Lyon, rubbing his brow, with a sad remembrance of his personal anxieties ; " but I will send you, if you will permit me, a brief writing, on which you can meditate at your leisure." " I shall be delighted. Good-by." Harold and Felix went out together ; and the minister, going up to his dull study, asked himself whether, under the pressure of conflicting experi- ence, he had faithfully discharged the duties of the past interview ? If a cynical sprite were present, riding on one of the motes in that dusty room, he may have made himself merry at the illusions of the little minister who brought so much conscience to bear on the pro- duction of so slight an effect. I confess to smiling myself, being sceptical as to the effect of ardent appeals and nice distinctions on gentlemen who are got up, both inside and out, as candidates in the style of the period ; but I never smiled at Mr. Lyon's trustful energy without falling to penitence and veneration immediately after. For what we call illusions are often, in truth, a wider vision of past and present realities, — a willing movement of a man's soul with the larger sweep of the world's forces, — a movement towards a more assured end than the chances of a single life. We see human heroism broken into units, and say this unit did little, — might as well not have been. But in this way we might break up a great army into units ; in this way we might break the sunlight into frag- 254 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. merits, and think that this and the other might be cheaply parted with. Let us rather raise a monument to the soldiers whose brave hearts only kept the ranks unbroken, and met death, — a monument to the faithful who were not famous, and who are precious as the continuity of the sunbeams is pre- cious, though some of them fall unseen and on barrenness. At present, looking back on that day at Treby, it seems to me that the sadder illusion lay with Harold Transome, who was trusting in his own skill to shape the success of his own morrows, ignorant of what many yesterdays had determined for him beforehand. CHAPTER XVII. It is a good and soothfast saw : Half-roasted never will be raw ; No dough is dried once more to meal, No crock new-shapen by the wheel ; You can't turn curds to milk again, Nor Now, by wishing, back to Then ; And having tasted stolen honey, You can't buy innocence for money. Jermyn was not particularly pleased that some chance had apparently hindered Harold Transome from making other canvassing visits immediately after leaving Mr. Lyon, and so had sent him back to the office earlier than he had been expected to come. The inconvenient chance he guessed at once to be represented by Felix Holt, whom he knew very well by Trebian report to be a young man with so little of the ordinary Christian motives as to making an appearance and getting on in the world, that he presented no handle to any judicious and respectable person who might be willing to make use of him. Harold Transome, on his side, was a good deal annoyed at being worried by Felix into an inquiry about electioneering details. The real dignity and honesty there was in him made him shrink from this necessity of satisfying a man with a trouble- some tongue ; it was as if he were to show indigna- tion at the discovery of one barrel with a false 256 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. bottom, when he had invested his money in a manu- factory where a larger or smaller number of such barrels had always been made. A practical man must seek a good end by the only possible means ; that is to say, if he is to get into Parliament he must not be too particular. It was not disgraceful to be neither a Quixote nor a theorist, aiming to correct the moral rules of the world ; but whatever actually was, or might prove to be, disgraceful, Harold held in de- testation. In this mood he pushed on unceremoni- ously to the inner office without waiting to ask questions ; and when he perceived that Jermyn was not alone, he said, with haughty quickness, — " A question about the electioneering at Sproxton. Can you give your attention to it at once ? Here is Mr. Holt, who has come to me about the business." "A — yes — a — certainly," said Jermyn, who, as usual, was the more cool and deliberate because he was vexed. He was standing, and, as he turned round, his broad figure concealed the person who was seated writing at the bureau. " Mr. Holt — a — will doubtless — a — make a point of saving a busy man's time. You can speak at once. This gentleman " — here Jermyn made a slight backward movement of the head — " is one of ourselves ; he is a true-blue." " I have simply to complain," said Felix, " that one of your agents has been sent on a bribing ex- pedition to Sproxton, — with what purpose you, sir, may know better than I do. Mr. Transome, it appears, was ignorant of the affair, and does not approve it." Jermyn, looking gravely and steadily at Felix while he was speaking, at the same time drew forth a small sheaf of papers from his side-pocket, and FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 257 then, as he turned his eyes slowly on Harold, felt in his waistcoat-pocket for his pencil-case. " I don't approve it at all," said Harold, who hated Jermyn's calculated slowness and conceit in his own impenetrability. "Be good enough to put a stop to it, will you ? " " Mr. Holt, I know, is an excellent Liberal," said Jermyn, just inclining his head to Harold, and then alternately looking at Felix and docketing his bills ; " but he is perhaps too inexperienced to be aware that no canvass — a — can be conducted without the action of able men, who must — a — be trusted, and not interfered with. And as to any possibility of promising to put a stop — a — to any procedure, — a — that depends. If he had ever held the coachman's ribbons in his hands, as I have in my younger days, — a — he would know that stopping is not always easy." " I know very little about holding ribbons," said Felix ; " but I saw clearly enough at once that more mischief had been done than could be well mended. Though I believe, if it were heartily tried, the treating might be reduced, and something might be done to hinder the men from turning out in a body to make a noise, which might end in worse." " They might be hindered from making a noise on our side," said Jermyn, smiling. " That is per- fectly true. But if they made a noise on the other, would your purpose be answered better, sir ? " Harold was moving about in an irritated manner while Felix and Jermyn were speaking. He pre- ferred leaving the talk to the attorney, of whose talk he himself liked to keep as clear as possible. " I can only say," answered Felix, " that if you make use of those heavy fellows when the drink is vol. i. — 17 258 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. in them, I should n't like your responsibility. You might as well drive bulls to roar on our side as bribe a set of colliers and navvies to shout and groan." " A lawyer may well envy your command of lan- guage, Mr. Holt," said Jermyn, pocketing his bills again, and shutting up his pencil ; " but he would not be satisfied with the accuracy — a — of your terms. You must permit me to check your use of the word ' bribery.' The essence of bribery is that it should be legally proved ; there is not such a thing — a — in rerum natura — a — as unproved bribery. There has been no such thing as bribery at Sproxton, I '11 answer for it. The presence of a body of stalwart fellows on — a — the Liberal side will tend to preserve order ; for we know that the benefit clubs from the Pitchley district will show for Debarry. Indeed, the gentleman who has con- ducted the canvass at Sproxton is experienced in parliamentary affairs, and would not exceed — a — the necessary measures that a rational judgment would dictate." " What ! you mean the man who calls himself Johnson ? " said Felix, in a tone of disgust. Before Jermyn chose to answer, Harold broke in, saying quickly and peremptorily : " The long and the short of it is this, Mr. Holt : I shall desire and insist that whatever can be done by way of remedy shall be done. Will that satisfy you ? You see now some of a candidate's difficulties ? " said Harold, breaking into his most agreeable smile. "I hope you will have some pity for me." " I suppose I must be content," said Felix, not thoroughly propitiated. " I bid you good-morning, gentlemen." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 259 When he was gone out, and had closed the door behind him, Harold, turning round and flashing, in spite of himself, an angry look at Jermyn, said, — " And who is Johnson ? an alias, I suppose. It seems you are fond of the name." Jermyn turned perceptibly paler ; but disagreea- bles of this sort between himself and Harold had been too much in his anticipations of late for him to be taken by surprise. He turned quietly round, and just touched the shoulder of the person seated at the bureau, who now rose. " On the contrary," Jermyn answered, " the Johnson in question is this gentleman, whom I have the pleasure of introducing to you as one of my most active helpmates in electioneering business, — Mr. Johnson, of Bedford Eow, London. I am comparatively a novice — a — in these matters. But he was engaged with James Putty in two hardly contested elections, and there could scarcely be a better initiation. Putty is one of the first men of the country as an agent — a — on the Liberal side — a — eh, Johnson ? I think Makepiece is — a — not altogether a match for him, not quite of the same calibre — a — haud consimili ingenio — a — in tactics — a — and in experience ? " " Makepiece is a wonderful man, and so is Putty," said the glib Johnson, too vain not to be pleased with an opportunity of speaking, even when the situation was rather awkward. " Makepiece for scheming, but Putty for management. Putty knows men, sir," he went on, turning to Harold; "it's a thousand pities that you have not had his talents employed in your service. He 's beyond any man for saving a candidate's money, — does half the work with his tongue. He 11 talk of anything, z6o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. from the Areopagus, and that sort of thing, down to the joke about ' Where are you going, Paddy ? ' — you know what I mean, sir ! ' Back again, says Paddy,' — an excellent electioneering joke. Putty understands these things. He has said to me, ' Johnson, bear in mind there are two ways of speaking an audience will always like : one is to tell them what they don't understand ; and the other is to tell them what they 're used to.' I shall never be the man to deny that I owe a great deal to Putty. I always say it was a most providential thing in the Mugham election last year that Putty was not on the Tory side. He managed the women ; and if you'll believe me, sir, one fourth of the men would never have voted if their wives had n't driven them to it for the good of their families. And as for speaking, — it 's currently reported in our London circles that Putty writes regularly for the ' Times.' He has that kind of language ; and I need n't tell you, Mr. Transome, that it 's the apex, which, I take it, means the tiptop, — and nobody can get higher than that, I think. I 've belonged to a political debating society myself; I 've heard a little language in my time ; but when Mr. Jermyn first spoke to me about having the honour to assist in your canvass of North Loam- shire," — here Johnson played with his watch-seals and balanced himself a moment on his toes, — " the very first thing I said was, ' And there 's Garstin has got Putty ! No Whig could stand against a Whig,' I said, ' who had Putty on his side : I hope Mr. Transome goes in for something of a deeper colour.' I don't say that, as a general rule, opinions go for much in a return. Mr. Transome ; it depends on who are in the field before you, and on the skill FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 261 of your agents. But as a Eadical, and a moneyed Eadical, you are in a fine position, sir; and with care and judgment — with care and judgment — " It had been impossible to interrupt Johnson be- fore without the most impolitic rudeness. Jermyn was not sorry that he should talk, even if he made a fool of himself ; for in that solid shape, exhibiting the average amount of human foibles, he seemed less of the alias which Harold had insinuated him to be, and had all the additional plausibility of a lie with a circumstance. Harold had thrown himself with contemptuous resignation into a chair, had drawn off one of his buff gloves, and was looking at his hand. But when Johnson gave his iteration with a slightly slackened pace, Harold looked up at him and broke in, — " Well then, Mr. Johnson, I shall be glad if you will use your care and judgment in putting an end, as well as you can, to this Sproxton affair; else it may turn out an ugly business." " Excuse me, sir ; I must beg you to look at the matter a little more closely. You will see that it is impossible to take a single step backward at Sproxton. It was a matter of necessity to get the Sproxton men ; else I know to a certainty the other side would have laid hold of them first, and now I 've undermined Garstin's people. They '11 use their authority, and give a little shabby treating, but I 've taken all the wind out of their sails. But if, by your orders, I or Mr. Jermyn here were to break promise with the honest fellows, and offend Chubb the publican, what would come of it ? Chubb would leave no stone unturned against you, sir ; he would egg on his customers against you ; the colliers and navvies would be at the nomina- 262 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. tion and at the election all the same, or rather not all the same, for they would be there against us ; and instead of hustling people good-humouredly by way of a joke, and counterbalancing Debarry's cheers, they 'd help to kick the cheering and the voting out of our men, and instead of being, let us say, half-a-dozen ahead of Garstin, you 'd be half-a- dozen behind him, that 's all. I speak plain English to you, Mr. Transome, though I 've the highest respect for you as a gentleman of first-rate talents and position. But, sir, to judge of these things, a man must know the English voter and the English publican ; and it would be a poor tale indeed " — here Mr. Johnson's mouth took an expression at once bitter and pathetic — " that a gentleman like you, to say nothing of the good of the country, should have gone to the expense and trouble of a canvass for nothing but to find himself out of Parliament at the end of it. I 've seen it again and again ; it looks bad in the cleverest man to have to sing small." Mr. Johnson's argument was not the less stringent because his idioms were vulgar. It requires a con- viction and resolution amounting to heroism not to wince at phrases that class our foreshadowed endur- ance among those common and ignominious troubles which the world is more likely to sneer at than to pity. Harold remained a few moments in angry silence looking at the floor, with one hand on his knee and the other on his hat, as if he were pre- paring to start up. "As to undoing anything that's been done down there," said Johnson, throwing in this observation as something into the bargain, " I must wash my hands of it, sir. I could n't work knowingly against FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 263 your interest. And that young man who has just gone out, — you don't believe that he need be listened to, I hope ? Chubb the publican hates him. Chubb would guess he was at the bottom of your having the treating stopped, and he 'd set half- a-dozen of the colliers to duck him in the canal, or break his head by mistake. I 'm an experienced man, sir. I hope I 've put it clear enough." "Certainly, the exposition befits the subject," said Harold, scornfully, his dislike of the man Johnson's personality being stimulated by causes which Jerniyn more than conjectured. " It 's a damned unpleasant, ravelled business that you and Mr. Jermyn have knit up between you. I 've no more to say." " Then, sir, if you 've no more commands, I don't wish to intrude. I shall wish you good-morning, sir," said Johnson, passing out quickly. Harold knew that he was indulging his temper, and he would probably have restrained it as a fool- ish move if he had thought there was great danger in it. But he was beginning to drop much of his caution and self-mastery where Jermyn was con- cerned, under the growing conviction that the attor- ney had very strong reasons for being afraid of him, — reasons which would only be reinforced by any action hostile to the Transome interest. As for a sneak like this Johnson, a gentleman had to pay him, not to please him. Harold had smiles at command in the right place, but he was not going to smile when it was neither necessary nor agree- able. He was one of those good-humoured yet ener- getic men, who have the gift of anger, hatred, and scorn upon occasion, though they are too healthy and self-contented for such feelings to get generated 264 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. in them without external occasion ; and in relation to Jermyn the gift was coming into fine exercise. "A — pardon me, Mr. Harold," said Jermyn, speaking as soon as Johnson went out, " but I am sorry — a — you should behave disobligingly to a man who has it in his power to do much service, — who, in fact, holds many threads in his hands. I admit that — a — nemo mortalium omnibus horis sa pit, as we say — a — " "Speak for yourself," said Harold. "I don't £alk in tags of Latin, which might be learned by a schoolmaster's footboy. I find the King's English express my meaning better." "In the King's English, then," said Jermyn, who could be idiomatic enough when he was stung, " a candidate should keep his kicks till he 's a member." " Oh, I suppose Johnson will bear a kick if you bid him. You're his principal, I believe." " Certainly, thus far — a — he is my London agent. But he is a man of substance, and — " " I shall know what he is if it 's necessary, I dare say. But I must jump into the carriage again. I 've no time to lose ; I must go to Hawkins at the factory. Will you go?" When Harold was gone, Jermyn's handsome face gathered blackness. He hardly ever wore his worst expression in the presence of others, and but seldom when he was alone, for he was not given to believe that any game would ultimately go against him. His luck had been good. New conditions might always turn up to give him new chances ; and if affairs threatened to come to an extremity between Harold and himself, he trusted to finding some sure resource. " He means to see to the bottom of everything if FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 265 he can, that 's quite plain," said Jermyn to himself. " I believe he has been getting another opinion ; he has some new light about those annuities on the estate that are held in Johnson's name. He has inherited a deuced faculty for business, — there's no denying that. But I shall beg leave to tell him that I 've propped up the family. I don't know where they would have been without me ; and if it comes to balancing, I know into which scale the gratitude ought to go. Not that he 's likely to feel any, — but he can feel something else ; and if he makes signs of setting the dogs on me, I shall make him feel it. The people named Transome owe me a good deal more than I owe them." In this way Mr. Jermyn inwardly appealed against an unjust construction which he foresaw that his old acquaintance the Law might put on certain items in his history. I have known persons who have been suspected of undervaluing gratitude, and excluding it from the list of virtues ; but on closer observation it has been seen that if they have never felt grateful, it has been for want of an opportunity ; and that, far from despising gratitude, they regard it as the virtue most of all incumbent — on others towards them. CHAPTEK XVIII. The little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. Wordsworth : Tintern Abbey. Jermyn did not forget to pay his visit to the minis- ter in Malthouse Yard that evening. The mingled irritation, dread, and defiance which he was feeling towards Harold Transome in the middle of the day depended on too many and far-stretching causes to be dissipated by eight o'clock; but when he left Mr. Lyon's house he was in a state of comparative triumph in the belief that he, and he alone, was now in possession of facts which, once grouped together, made a secret that gave him new power over Harold. Mr. Lyon, in his need for help from one who had that wisdom of the serpent which, he argued, is not forbidden, but is only of hard acquirement to dove- like innocence, had been gradually led to pour out to the attorney all the reasons which made him desire to know the truth about the man who called himself Maurice Christian : he had shown all the precious relics, the locket, the letters, and the marriage certificate. And Jermyn had comforted him by confidently promising to ascertain, without scandal or premature betrayals, whether this man were really Annette's husband Maurice Christian Bycliffe. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 267 Jermyn was not rash in making this promise, since he had excellent reasons for believing that he had already come to a true conclusion on the subject. But he wished both to know a little more of this man himself, and to keep Mr. Lyon in ignorance — not a difficult precaution — in an affair which it cost the minister so much pain to speak of. An easy opportunity of getting an interview with Christian was sure to offer itself before long, — might even offer itself to-morrow. Jermyn had seen him more than once, though hitherto without any reason for observing him with interest ; he had heard that Philip Debarry's courier was often busy in the town, and it seemed especially likely that he would be seen there when the Market was to be agitated by politics, and the new candidate was to show his paces. The world of which Treby Magna was the centre was naturally curious to see the young Transome, who had come from the East, was as rich as a Jew, and called himself a Eadical, — characteristics all equally vague in the minds of various excellent rate-payers, who drove to market in their taxed carts or in their hereditary gigs. Places at con- venient windows had been secured beforehand for a few best bonnets ; but, in general, a Eadical candi- date excited no ardent feminine partisanship, even among the Dissenters in Treby, if they were of the prosperous and long-resident class. Some chapel- going ladies were fond of remembering that " their family had been Church ; " others objected to poli- tics altogether as having spoiled old neighbourliness, and sundered friends who had kindred views as to cowslip wine and Michaelmas cleaning ; others, of the melancholy sort, said it would be well if people 268 FELIX HOLT, THE TtADTCAL. would think less of reforming Parliament and more of pleasing God. Irreproachable Dissenting matrons, like Mrs. Muscat, whose youth had been passed in a short-waisted bodice and tight skirt, had never been animated by the struggle for liberty, and had a timid suspicion that religion was desecrated by being applied to the things of this world. Since Mr. Lyon had been in Malthouse Yard there had been far too much mixing up of politics with religion ; but at any rate, these ladies had never yet been to hear speechifying in the market-place, and they were not going to begin that practice. Esther, however, had heard some of her feminine acquaintances say that they intended to sit at the druggist's upper window, and she was inclined to ask her father if he could think of a suitable place where she also might see and hear. Two incon- sistent motives urged her. She knew that Felix cared earnestly for all public questions, and she supposed that he held it one of her deficiencies not to care about them ; well, she would try to learn the secret of this ardour, which was so strong in him that it animated what she thought the dullest form of life. She was not too stupid to find it out. But this self-correcting motive was presently dis- placed by a motive of a different sort. It had been a pleasant variety in her monotonous days to see a man like Harold Transome, with a distinguished appearance and polished manners, and she would like to see him again : he suggested to her that brighter and more luxurious life on which her imagination dwelt without the painful effort it required to con- ceive the mental condition which would place her in complete sympathy with Felix Holt. It was this less unaccustomed prompting of which she was Esther and Mr. Lyon. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 269 chiefly conscious when she awaited her father's coming down to breakfast. Why, indeed, should she trouble herself so much about Felix ? Mr. Lyon, more serene now that he had un- bosomed his anxieties and obtained a promise of help, was already swimming so happily in the deep water of polemics in expectation of Philip Debarry's answer to his challenge, that, in the occupation of making a few notes lest certain felicitous inspi- rations should be wasted, he had forgotten to come down to breakfast. Esther, suspecting his abstrac- tion, went up to his study and found him at his desk looking up with wonder at her interruption. " Come, father, you have forgotten your breakfast." " It is true, child ; I will come," he said, lingering to make some final strokes. " Oh, you naughty father ! " said Esther, as he got up from his chair, " your coat-collar is twisted, your waist-coat is buttoned all wrong, and you have not brushed your hair. Sit down and let me brush it again as I did yesterday." He sat down obediently, while Esther took a towel, which she threw over his shoulders, and then brushed the thick long fringe of soft auburn hair. This very trifling act, which she had brought herself to for the first time yesterday, meant a great deal in Esther's little history. It had been her habit to leave the mending of her father's clothes to Lyddy ; she had not liked even to touch his cloth garments ; still less had it seemed a thing she would willingly undertake to correct his toilet, and use a brush for him. But having once done this, under her new sense of faulty omission, the affectionateness that was in her flowed so pleas- antly, as she saw how much her father was moved 270 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. by what he thought a great act of tenderness, that she quite longed to repeat it. This morning, as he sat under her hands, his face had such a calm de- light in it that she could not help kissing the top of his bald head ; and afterwards, when they were seated at breakfast, she said merrily, — " Father, I shall make a petit maitre of you by and by ; your hair looks so pretty and silken when it is well brushed." " Nay, child, I trust that while I would willingly depart from my evil habit of a somewhat slovenly forgetfulness in my attire, I shall never arrive at the opposite extreme. For though there is that in apparel which pleases the eye, and I deny not that your neat gown and the colour thereof, — which is that of certain little flowers that spread themselves in the hedgerows, and make a blueness there as of the sky when it is deepened in the water, — I deny not, I say, that these minor striv- ings after a perfection which is as it were an irrecoverable yet haunting memory, are a good in their proportion. Nevertheless, the brevity of our life, and the hurry and crush of the great battle with error and sin, often oblige us to an advised neglect of what is less momentous. This, I con- ceive, is the principle on which my friend Felix Holt acts ; and I cannot but think the light comes from the true fount, though it shines through obstructions." " You have not seen Mr. Holt since Sunday, have you, father ? " " Yes ; he was here yesterday. He sought Mr. Transome, having a matter of some importance to speak upon with him. And I saw him afterward in the street, when he agreed that I should call FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 271 for him this morning before I go into the market- place. He will have it," Mr. Lyon went on, smiling, " that I must not walk about in the crowd without him to act as my special constable." Esther felt vexed with herself that her heart was suddenly beating with unusual quickness, and that her last resolution not to trouble herself about what Felix thought, had transformed itself with magic swiftness into mortification that he evidently avoided coming to the house when she was there, though he used to come on the slightest occasion. He knew that she was always at home until the after- noon on market-days ; that was the reason why he would not call for her father. Of course, it was because he attributed such littleness to her that he supposed she would retain nothing else than a feel- ins of offence towards him for what he had said to her. Such distrust of any good in others, such arrogance of immeasurable superiority, was ex- tremely ungenerous. But presently she said, — " I should have liked to hear Mr. Transome speak, but I suppose it is too late to get a place now." " I am not sure ; I would fain have you go if you desire it, my dear," said Mr. Lyon, who could not bear to deny Esther any lawful wish. " Walk with me to Mistress Holt's, and we will learn from Felix, who will doubtless already have been out, whether he could lead you in safety to Friend Lambert's." Esther was glad of the proposal, because, if it answered no other purpose, it would be an easy way of obliging Felix to see her, and of showing him that it was not she who cherished offence. But when, later in the morning, she was walking towards 272 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Mrs. Holt's with her father, they met Mr. Jermyn, who stopped them to ask, in his most affable man- ner, whether Miss Lyon intended to hear the can- didate, and whether she had secured a suitable place. And he ended by insisting that his daugh- ters, who were presently coming in an open carriage, should call for her, if she would permit them. It was impossible to refuse this civility ; and Esther turned back to await the carriage, pleased with the certainty of hearing and seeing, yet sorry to miss Felix. There was another day for her to think of him with unsatisfied resentment, mixed with some longings for a better understanding ; and in our spring-time every day has its hidden growths in the mind, as it has in the earth when the little folded blades are getting ready to pierce the ground. CHAPTER XIX. Consistency 1 — I never changed my mind, Which is, and always was, to live at ease. It was only in the time of the summer fairs that the market-place had ever looked more animated than it did under that autumn mid-day sun. There were plenty of blue cockades and streamers, faces at all the windows, and a crushing buzzing crowd, urging each other backwards and forwards round the small hustings in front of the Ram Inn, which showed its more plebeian sign at right angles with the venerable Marquis of Granby. Sometimes there were scornful shouts, sometimes a rolling cascade of cheers, sometimes the shriek of a penny whistle ; but above all these fitful and feeble sounds, the fine old church-tower, which looked down from above the trees on the other side of the narrow stream, sent vibrating, at every quarter, the sonorous tones of its great bell, the Good Queen Bess. Two carriages, with blue ribbons on the harness, were conspicuous near the hustings. One was Jermyn's, filled with the brilliantly attired daugh- ters, accompanied by Esther, whose quieter dress helped to mark her out for attention as the most striking of the group. The other was Harold Tran- some's ; but in this there was no lady, — only the olive-skinned Dominic, whose acute yet mild face was brightened by the occupation of amusing little VOL. I. 18 274 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Harry and rescuing from his tyrannies a King Charles puppy, with big eyes, much after the pat- tern of the boy's. This Trebian crowd did not count for much in the political force of the nation, but it was not the less determined as to lending or not lending its ears. No man was permitted to speak from the platform except Harold and his uncle Lingon, though, in the interval of expectation, several Liberals had come forward. Among these ill-advised persons the one whose attempt met the most emphatic resistance was Rufus Lyon. This might have been taken for resentment at the unreasonableness of the cloth, that, not content with pulpits from whence to tyrannize over the ears of men, wishes to have the larger share of the platforms ; but it was not so, for Mr. Lingon was heard with much cheering, and would have been welcomed again. The Rector of Little Treby had been a favourite in the neighbourhood since the beginning of the century. A clergyman thoroughly unclerical in his habits had a piquancy about him which made him a sort of practical joke. He had always been called Jack Lingon, or Parson Jack, — sometimes, in older and less serious days, even " Cock-fighting Jack." He swore a little when the point of a joke seemed to demand it, and was fond of wearing a coloured bandana tied loosely over his cravat, together with large brown leather leggings ; he spoke in a pithy, familiar way that people could understand, and had none of that frigid mincingness called dignity, which some have thought a peculiar clerical dis- ease. In fact, he was " a charicter," — something cheerful to think of, not entirely out of connection with Sunday and sermons. And it seemed in keep- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 275 ing that he should have turned sharp round in politics, his opinions being only part of the excel- lent joke called Parson Jack. When his red eagle face and white hair were seen on the platform, the Dissenters hardly cheered this questionable Kadi- cal ; but to make amends, all the Tory farmers gave him a friendly " hurray." " Let 's hear what old Jack will say for himself," was the predominant feeling among them ; " he '11 have something funny to say, I '11 bet a penny." It was only Lawyer Labron's young clerks and their hangers-on who were sufficiently dead to Trebian traditions to assail the parson with various sharp-edged interjections, such as broken shells, and cries of "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" "Come now, my lads," he began, in his full, pompous, yet jovial tones, thrusting his hands into the stuffed-out pockets of his great-coat, "I'll tell you what; I'm a parson, you know; I ought to return good for evil. So here are some good nuts for you to crack in return for your shells." There was a roar of laughter and cheering as he threw handfuls of nuts and filberts among the crowd. " Come now, you '11 say I used to be a Tory ; and some of you, whose faces I know as well as I know the head of my own crab-stick, will say that's why I'm a good fellow. But now I'll tell you some- thing else. It 's for that very reason — that I used to b< a Tory, and am a good fellow — that I go along with my nephew here, who is a thorough- going Liberal. For will anybody here come for- ward ind say, ' A good fellow has no need to tack about and change his road'? No, there's not one of yci such a Tom- noddy. What's good for one 276 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. time is bad for another. If anybody contradicts that, ask him to eat pickled pork when he 's thirsty, and to bathe in the Lapp there when the spikes of ice are shooting. And that's the reason why the men who are the best Liberals now are the very men who used to be the best Tories. There is n't a nastier horse than your horse that '11 jib and back and turn round when there is but one road for him to go, and that's the road before him. "And my nephew here, — he comes of a Tory breed, you know, — I'll answer for the Lingons. In the old Tory times there was never a pup be- longing to a Lingon but would howl if a Whig came near him. The Lingon blood is good, rich, old Tory blood, — like good rich milk, — and that 's why, when the right time comes, it throws up a Liberal cream. The best sort of Tory turns to the best sort of Eadical. There 's plenty of Eadical scum, — I say, beware of the scum, and look out for the cream. And here 's my nephew, — some of the cream, if there is any ; none of your Whigs, none of your painted water that looks as if it ran, and it's standing still all the while ; none of your spinning- jenny fellows. A gentleman ; but up to all sorts of business. I'm no fool myself; I'm forced to wink a good deal, for fear of seeing too much, for a neighbourly man must let himself be cheated a little. But though I 've never been out of my own country, I know less about it than my nephew does. You may tell what he is, and only look at him. There 's one sort of fellow sees nothing but the end of his own nose, and another sort that sees nothing but the hinder side of the moon ; but my nephew Harold is of another sort; he sees everything that's at hitting distance, and he 's not one to miss his FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 277 mark. A good-looking man in his prime ! Not a greenhorn; not a shrivelled old fellow, who'll come to speak to you and find he 's left his teeth at home by mistake. Harold Transome will do you credit ; if anybody says the Eadicals are a set of sneaks, Brummagem halfpennies, scamps who want to play pitch-and-toss with the property of the country, you can say, ' Look at the member for North Loam- shire ! ' And mind what you '11 hear him say ; he '11 go in for making everything right, — Poor- laws and Charities and Church, — he wants to reform 'em all. Perhaps you'll say, 'There's that Parson Lingon talking about Church Reform, — why, he belongs to the Church himself, — he wants reforming too.' Well, well, wait a bit, and you '11 hear by and by that old Parson Lingon is reformed, — shoots no more, cracks his joke no more, has drunk his last bottle : the dogs, the old pointers, will be sorry; but you'll hear that the Parson at Little Treby is a new man. That 's what Church Reform is sure to come to before long. So now here are some more nuts for you, lads, and-I leave you to listen to your candidate. Here he is, — give him a good hurray ; wave your hats, and I '11 begin. Hurray ! " Harold had not been quite confident beforehand as to the good effect of his uncle's introduction ; but he was soon reassured. There was no acrid partisanship among the old-fashioned Tories who mustered strong about the Marquis of Granby, and Parson Jack had put them in a good humour. Harold's only interruption came from his own party. The oratorical clerk at the Factory, acting as the tribune of the Dissenting interest, and feel- ing bound to put questions, might have been 278 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. troublesome ; but his voice being unpleasantly sharp, while Harold's was full and penetrating, the questioning was cried down. Harold's speech " did " : it was not of the glib-nonsensical sort, not ponderous, not hesitating, — which is as much as to say that it was remarkable among British speeches. Read in print the next day, perhaps it would be neither pregnant nor conclusive, which is saying no more than that its excellence was not of an abnor- mal kind, but such as is usually found in the best efforts of eloquent candidates. Accordingly the applause drowned the opposition, and content predominated. But perhaps the moment of most diffusive pleasure from public speaking is that in which the speech ceases and the audience can turn to commenting on it. The one speech, sometimes uttered under great responsibility as to missiles and other conse- quences, has given a text to twenty speakers who are under no responsibility. Even in the days of duelling a man was not challenged for being a bore, nor does this quality apparently hinder him from being much invited to dinner, which is the great index of social responsibility in a less bar- barous age. Certainly the crowd in the market-place seemed to experience this culminating enjoyment when the speaking on the platform in front of the Ram had ceased, and there were no less than three orators holding forth from the elevation of chance vehicles, not at all to the prejudice of the talking among those who were on a level with their neighbours. There was little ill-humour among the listeners, for Queen Bess was striking the last quarter before two, and a savoury smell from the inn kitchens in- FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 279 spired them with an agreeable consciousness that the speakers were helping to trifle away the brief time before dinner. Two or three of Harold's committee had lingered talking to each other on the platform, instead of re-entering ; and Jenny n, after coming out to speak to one of them, had turned to the corner near which the carriages were standing, that he might tell the Transomes' coachman to drive round to the side door, and signal to his own coachman to follow. But a dialogue which was going on below induced him to pause, and instead of giving the order, to assume the air of a careless gazer. Christian, whom the attorney had already observed looking out of a window at the Marquis of Granby, was talking to Dominic. The meeting appeared to be one of new recognition, for Christian was saying, — " You 've not got gray as I have, Mr. Lenoni ; you 're not a day older for the sixteen years. But no wonder you did n't know me ; I 'm bleached like a dried bone." " Not so. It is true I was confused a meenute, — I could put your face nowhere ; but after that, Naples came behind it, and I said, Mr. Creestian. And so you reside at the Manor, and I am at Tran- some Court." " Ah ! it 's a thousand pities you 're not on our side, else we might have dined together at the Marquis," said Christian. " Eh, could you manage it ? " he added languidly, knowing there was no chance of a yes. " No, — much obliged, — could n't leave the leetle boy. Alii ! Any, Any, pinch not poor Moro." While Dominic was answering, Christian had stared about him, as his manner was when he was 28o FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. being spoken to, and had had his eyes arrested by Esther, who was leaning forward to look at Mr. Harold Transome's extraordinary little gypsy of a son. But happening to meet Christian's stare, she felt annoyed, drew back, and turned away her head, colouring. " Who are those ladies ? " said Christian, in a low tone, to Dominic, as if he had been startled into a sudden wish for this information. " They are Meester Jermyn's daughters," said Dominic, who knew nothing either of the lawyer's family or of Esther. Christian looked puzzled a moment or two, and was silent. " Oh, well — au revoir," he said, kissing the tips of his fingers, as the coachman, having had Jermyn's order, began to urge on the horses. " Does he see some likeness in the girl ? " thought Jermyn, as he turned away. " I wish I had n't in- vited her to come in the carriage, as it happens." CHAPTEK XX. "Good earthenware pitchers, sir! — of an excellent quaint pat- tern and sombre colour." The market dinner at the Marquis was in high repute in Treby and its neighbourhood. The fre- quenters of this three-and-sixpenny ordinary liked to allude to it, as men allude to anything which im- plies that they move in good society, and habitually converse with those who are in the secret of the highest affairs. The guests were not only such ru- ral residents as had driven to market, but some of the most substantial townsmen, who had always as- sured their wives that business required this weekly sacrifice of domestic pleasure. The poorer farmers, who put up at the Ram or the Seven Stars, where there was no fish, felt their disadvantage, bearing it modestly or bitterly, as the case might be ; and al- though the Marquis was a Tory house, devoted to Debarry, it was too much to expect that such tenants of the Transomes as had always been used to dine there, should consent to eat a worse dinner, and sit with worse company, because they suddenly found themselves under a Radical landlord, opposed to the political party known as Sir Maxim's. Hence the recent political divisions had not reduced the hand- some length of the table at the Marquis ; and the many gradations of dignity — - from Mr. Wace, the 282 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. brewer, to the rich butcher from Leek Malton, who always modestly took the lowest seat, though with- out the reward of being asked to come up higher — had not been abbreviated by any secessions. To-day there was an extra table spread for ex- pected supernumeraries, and it was at this that Christian took his place with some of the younger farmers, who had almost a sense of dissipation in talking to a man of his questionable station and un- known experience. The provision was especially liberal, and on the whole the presence of a minority destined to vote for Transome was a ground for jok- ing, which added to the good-humour of the chief talkers. A respectable old acquaintance turned Ead- ical rather against his will was rallied with even greater gusto than if his wife had had twins twice over. The best Trebian Tories were far too sweet- blooded to turn against such old friends, and to make no distinction between them and the Eadical, Dissenting, Papistical, Deistical set with whom they never dined, and probably never saw except in their imagination. But the talk was necessarily in abey- ance until the more serious business of dinner was ended, and the wine, spirits, and tobacco raised mere satisfaction into beatitude. Among the frequent though not regular guests, whom every one was glad to see, was Mr. Nolan, the retired London hosier, a wiry old gentleman past seventy, whose square tight forehead, with its rigid hedge of gray hair, whose bushy eyebrows, sharp dark eyes, and remarkable hooked nose, gave a hand- some distinction to his face in the midst of rural physiognomies. He had married a Miss Pendrell early in life, when he was a poor young Londoner, and the match had been thought as bad as ruin by FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 283 her family ; but fifteen years ago he had had the satisfaction of bringing his wife to settle amongst her own friends, and of being received with pride as a bi other-in-law, retired from business, possessed of unknown thousands, and of a most agreeable talent for anecdote and conversation generally. No question had ever been raised as to Mr. Nolan's extraction on the strength of his hooked nose or of his name be- ing Baruch. Hebrew names " ran " in the best Saxon families ; the Bible accounted for them ; and no one among the uplands and hedgerows of that district was suspected of having an Oriental origin unless he carried a pedler's jewel-box. Certainly, whatever genealogical research might have discovered, the worthy Baruch Nolan was so free from any distinc- tive marks of religious persuasion — he went to church with so ordinary an irregularity, and so often grumbled at the sermon — that there was no ground for classing him otherwise than with good Trebian Churchmen. He was generally regarded as a good- looking old gentleman, and a certain thin eagerness in his aspect was attributed to the life of the me- tropolis, where narrow space had the same sort of effect on men as on thickly planted trees. Mr. No- lan always ordered his pint of port, which, after he had sipped it a little, was wont to animate his rec- ollections of the Eoyal Family, and the various ministries which had been contemporary with the successive stages of his prosperity. He was always listened to with interest : a man who had been born in the year when good old King George came to the throne — who had been acquainted with the nude leg of the Prince Eegent, and hinted at private rea- sons for believing that the Princess Charlotte ought not to have died — had conversational matter as 284 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. special to his auditors as Marco Polo could hive had on his return from Asiatic travel. " My good sir," he said to Mr. Wace, as he crossed his knees and spread his silk handkerchief over them, " Transome may be returned, or he may not be returned, — that 's a question for North Loam- shire ; but it makes little difference to the kingdom. I don't want to say things which may put younger men out of spirits, but I believe this country has seen its best days, — I do indeed." " I am sorry to hear it from one of your expe- rience, Mr. Nolan," said the brewer, a large happy- looking man. " I 'd make a good fight myself before I 'd leave a worse world for my boys than I 've found for myself. There is n't a greater pleasure than doing a bit of planting and improving one's build- ings, and investing one's money in some pretty acres of land, when it turns up here and there, — land you 've known from a boy. It 's a nasty thought that these Eadicals are to turn things round so as one can calculate on nothing. One does n't like it for one's self, and one does n't like it for one's neighbours. But somehow I believe it won't do : if we can't trust the Government just now, there 's Providence and the good sense of the country ; and there 's a right in things, — that 's what I 've always said, — there 's a right in things. The heavy end will get downmost. And if Church and King, and every man being sure of his own, are things good for this country there 's a God above will take care of 'em." " It won't do, my dear sir," said Mr. Nolan, — " it won't do. When Peel and the Duke turned round about the Catholics in '29, I saw it was all over with us. We could never trust ministers any more. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 285 It was to keep off a rebellion, they said ; but I say it was to keep their places. They 're monstrously fond of place, both of them, — that I know." Here Mr. Nolan changed the crossing of his legs, and gave a deep cough, conscious of having made a point. Then he went on : " What we want is a king with a good will of his own. If we 'd had that, we shouldn't have heard what we've heard to-day ; Reform would never have come to this pass. When our good old King George the Third heard his ministers talking about Catholic Emanci- pation, he boxed their ears all round. Ah, poor soul ! he did indeed, gentlemen," ended Mr. Nolan, shaken by a deep laugh of admiration. " Well, now, that 's something like a king," said Mr. Crowder, who was an eager listener. " It was uncivil, though. How did they take it ? " said Mr. Timothy Rose, a " gentleman farmer " from Leek Malton, against whose independent posi- tion Nature had provided the safeguard of a sponta- neous servility. His large porcine cheeks, round twinkling eyes, and thumbs habitually twirling expressed a concentrated effort not to get into trouble, and to speak everybody fair except when they were safely out of hearing. " Take it ! they 'd be obliged to take it," said the impetuous young Joyce, a farmer of superior infor- mation. " Have you ever heard of the King's prerogative ? " " I don't say but what I have," said Rose, retreat- ing. " I 've nothing against it, — nothing at all." " No, but the Radicals have," said young Joyce, winking. " The prerogative is what they want to clip close. They want us to be governed by dele- gates from the trades-unions, who are to dictate to 286 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL, everybody, and make everything square to their mastery." " They 're a pretty set, now, those delegates," said Mr. Wace, with disgust. " I once heard two of 'em spouting away. They 're a sort of fellow I 'd never employ in my brewery, or anywhere else. I 've seen it again and again. If a man takes to tongue- work, it 's all over with him. ' Everything 's wrong,' says he. That 's a big text. But does he want to make everything right ? Not he. He 'd lose his text. ' We want every man's good,' say they. Why, they never knew yet what a man's good is. How should they ? It 's working for his victual, — not getting a slice of other people's." " Ay, ay," said young Joyce, cordially. " I should just have liked all the delegates in the country mustered for our yeomanry to go into, — that 's all. They 'd see where the strength of Old England lay then. You may tell what it is for a country to trust to trade when it breeds such spind- ling fellows as those." " That is n't the fault of trade, my good sir," said Mr. Nolan, who was often a little pained by the de- fects of provincial culture. " Trade, properly con- ducted, is good for a man's constitution. I could have shown you, in my time, weavers past seventy, with all their faculties as sharp as a pen-knife, do- ing without spectacles. It 's the new system of trade that 's to blame : a country can't have too much trade if it 's properly managed. Plenty of sound Tories have made their fortune by trade. You 've heard of Calibut & Co., — everybody has heard of Calibut. Well, sir, I knew old Mr. Cali- but as well as I know you. He was once a crony of mine in a city warehouse ; and now, I '11 answer FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 287 for it, he has a larger rent-roll than Lord Wyvern. Bless your soul ! his subscriptions to charities would make a fine income for a nobleman. And he 's as good a Tory as I am. And as for his town estab- lishment, — why, how much butter do you think is consumed there annually ? " Mr. Nolan paused, and then his face glowed with triumph as he answered his own question : " Why, gentlemen, not less than two thousand pounds of butter during the few months the family is in town ! Trade makes property, my good sir, and property is Conservative, as they say now. Cali- but's son-in-law is Lord Fortinbras. He paid me a large debt on his marriage. It 's all one web, sir. The prosperity of the country is one web." " To be sure," said Christian, who, smoking his cigar with his chair turned away from the table, was willing to make himself agreeable in the con- versation. " We can't do without nobility. Look at France. When they got rid of the old nobles, they were obliged to make new." " True, very true," said Mr. Nolan, who thought Christian a little too wise for his position, but could not resist the rare gift of an instance in point. " It 's the French Eevolution that has done us harm here. It was the same at the end of the last century, but the war kept it off, — Mr. Pitt saved us. I knew Mr. Pitt. I had a particular interview with him once. He joked me about getting the length of his foot. ' Mr. Nolan,' said he, ' there are those on the other side of the water whose name begins with N. who would be glad to know what you know.' I was recommended to send an account of that to the newspapers after his death, poor man ! but I 'm not fond of that kind of show myself." Mr. Nolan 288 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. swung his upper leg a little, and pinched his lip between his thumb and finger, naturally pleased with his own moderation. " No, no, — very right," said Mr. Wace, cordially. " But you never said a truer word than that about .property. If a man 's got a bit of property, a stake in the country, he '11 want to keep things square. Where Jack is n't safe, Tom 's in danger. But that 's what makes it such an uncommonly nasty thing that a man like Transome should take up with these Badicals. It 's my belief he does it only to get into Parliament ; he '11 turn round when he gets there. Come, Dibbs, there 's some- thing to put you in spirits," added Mr. Wace, rais- ing his voice a little and looking at a guest lower down. " You 've got to vote for a Radical with one side of your mouth, and make a wry face with the other ; but he '11 turn round by and by. As Parson Jack says, he 's got the right sort of blood in him." " I don't care two straws who I vote for," said Dibbs, sturdily. " I 'in not going to make a wry | face. It stands to reason a man should vote for his j landlord. My farm 's in good condition, and I 've got the best pasture on the estate. The rot 's never come nigh me. Let them grumble as are on the wrong side of the hedge." " I wonder if Jermyn '11 bring him in, though," said Mr. Sircome, the great miller. " He 's an un- common fellow for carrying things through. I know he brought me through that suit about my weir ; it cost a pretty penny, but he brought me through." ' It 's a bit of a pill for him, too, having to turn Radical," said Mr. Wace. " They say he counted on FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 289 making friends with Sir Maxinms, by this young one coming home and joining with Mr. Philip." " But I '11 bet a penny he brings Transome in," said Mr. Sircome. " Folks say he has n't got many votes hereabout ; but towards Duffield, and all there, where the Eadicals are, everybody 's for him. Eh, Mr. Christian ? Come, — you 're at the foun- tain-head, — what do they say about it now at the Manor ? " When general attention was called to Christian, young Joyce looked down at his own legs and touched the curves of his own hair, as if measuring his own approximation to that correct copy of a gentleman. Mr. Wace turned his head to listen for Christian's answer with that tolerance of in- feriority which becomes men in places of public resort. " They think it will be a hard run between Tran- some and Garstin," said Christian. " It depends on Transome's getting plumpers." " Well, I know I shall not split for Garstin," said Mr. Wace. " It 's nonsense for Debarry's voters to split for a Whig. A man 's either a Tory or not a Tory." " It seems reasonable there should be one of each side," said Mr. Timothy Rose. " I don't like show- ing favour either way. If one side can't lower the poor's rates and take off the tithe, let the other try." " But there 's this in it, Wace," said Mr. Sircome. " I 'm not altogether against the Whigs. For they don't want to go so far as the Eadicals do, and when they find they 've slipped a bit too far, they '11 hold on all the tighter. And the Whigs have got the upper hand now, and it 's no use fighting with the current. I run with the — " vol. 1. — 19 290 FELIX HOLT. THE RADICAL. Mr. Sircome checked himself, looked furtively at Christian, and, to divert criticism, ended with, — " Eh, Mr. Nolan ? " " There have been eminent Whigs, sir. Mr. Fox was a Whig," said Mr. Nolan. " Mr. Fox was a great orator. He gambled a good deal. He was very intimate with the Prince of Wales. I 've seen him, and the Duke of York too, go home by day- light with their hats crushed. Mr. Fox was a great leader of Opposition : Government requires an Oppo- sition. The Whigs should always be in opposition, and the Tories on the ministerial side. That 's what the country used to like. ' The Whigs for salt and mustard, the Tories for meat,' Mr. Gottlib the banker used to say to me. Mr. Gottlib was a worthy man. When there was a great run on Gottlib's bank in '16, I saw a gentleman come in with bags of gold, and say, ' Tell Mr. Gottlib there 's plenty more where that came from.' It stopped the run, gentlemen, — it did indeed." This anecdote was received with great admiration ; but Mr. Sircome returned to the previous question. " There now, you see, Wace, — it 's right there should be Whigs as well as Tories, — Pitt and Fox, — I 've always heard them go together." "Well, I don't like Garstin," said the brewer. " I did n't like his conduct about the Canal Com- pany. Of the two, I like Transome best. If a nag is to throw me, I say, let him have some blood." " As for blood, Wace," said Mr. Salt, the wool- factor, a bilious man, who only spoke when there was a good opportunity of contradicting, " ask my brother-in-law Labron a little about that. These Transomes are not the old blood." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 291 " "Well, they 're the oldest that 's forthcoming, I suppose," said Mr. Wace, laughing. " Unless you believe in mad old Tommy Trounsem. I wonder where that old poaching fellow is now." " I saw him half-drunk the other day," said young Joyce. " He 'd got a flag-basket with hand- bills in it over his shoulder." " I thought the old fellow was dead," said Mr. Wace. " Hey ! why, Jermyn," he went on merrily, as he turned round and saw the attorney entering ; " you Eadical ! how dare you show yourself in this Tory house ? Come, this is going a bit too far. We don't mind Old Harry managing our law for us, — that 's his proper business from time immemo- rial ; but — " " But — a — " said Jermyn, smiling, always ready to carry on a joke, to which his slow manner gave the piquancy of surprise, " if he meddles with poli- tics he must be a Tory." Jermyn was not afraid to show himself anywhere in Treby. He knew many people were not exactly fond of him ; but a man can do without that, if he is prosperous. A provincial lawyer in those old- fashioned days was as independent of personal esteem as if he had been a Lord Chancellor. There was a good-humoured laugh at this upper end of the room as Jermyn seated himself at about an equal angle between Mr. Wace and Christian. " We were talking about old Tommy Trounsem ; you remember him ? They say he 's turned up again," said Mr. Wace. " Ah ? " said Jermyn, indifferently. " But — a — Wace — I 'm very busy to-day — but I wanted to see you about that bit of land of yours at the corner of Pod's End. I've had a handsoine offer 292 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. for you, — I 'm not at liberty to say from whom, — but an offer that ought to tempt you." "It won't tempt me," said Mr. Wace, peremp- torily ; " if I 've got a bit of land, I '11 keep it. It 's hard enough to get hereabouts." " Then I 'm to understand that you refuse all negotiation ? " said Jermyn, who had ordered a glass of sherry, and was looking round slowly as he sipped it, till his eyes seemed to rest for the first time on Christian, though he had seen him at once on entering the room. " Unless one of the confounded railways should come. But then I '11 stand out and make 'em bleed for it." There was a murmur of approbation ; the rail- ways were a public wrong much denunciated in Treby. "A — Mr. Philip Debarry at the Manor now ? " said Jermyn, suddenly questioning Christian, in a haughty tone of superiority which he often chose to use. " No," said Christian ; " he is expected to-morrow morning." " Ah ! — " Jermyn paused a moment or two, and then said, " You are sufficiently in his confidence, I think, to carry a message to him with a small document ? " " Mr. Debarry has often trusted me so far," said Christian, with much coolness ; " but if the business is yours, you can probably find some one you know better." There was a little winking and grimacing among those of the company who heard this answer. "A — true — a," said Jermyn, not showing any offence ; " if you decline. But I think, if you will FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 203 do me the favour to step round to my residence on your way back, and learn the business, you will prefer carrying it yourself. At my residence, if you please, — not my office." " Oh, very well," said Christian. " I shall be very happy." Christian never allowed himself to be treated as a servant by any one but his master, and his master treated a servant more deferentially than an equal. " Will it be five o'clock ? What hour shall we say ? " said Jermyn. Christian looked at his watch and said, " About five I can be there." " Very good," said Jermyn, finishing his sherry. " Well — a — Wace — a — so you will hear noth- ing about Pod's End ? " " Not I." " A mere pocket-handkerchief, not enough to swear by — a — " here Jermyn's face broke into a smile — "without a magnifying-glass." "Nevermind. It's mine into the bowels of the nrth and up to the sky. I can build the Tower of Babel on it if I like, — eh, Mr. Nolan ? " " A bad investment, my good sir," said Mr. Nolan, who enjoyed a certain flavour of infidelity in this smart reply, and laughed much at it in his inward way. " See now, how blind you Tories are ! " said Jer- myn, rising ; " if I had been your lawyer, I 'd have had you make another forty-shilling freeholder with that land, and all in time for this election. But — a — the verburn sa/pientihus comes a little too late now." Jermyn was moving away as he finished speak- 294 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. ing, but Mr. Wace called out after him, "We're not so badly off for votes as you are, — good sound votes, that'll stand the Revising Barrister. Debarry at the top of the poll!" The lawyer was already out of the doorway. CHAPTEE XXL T is grievous that with all amplification of travel both by sea and land, a man can never separate himself from his past history. Mr. Jeemyn's handsome house stood a little way out of the town, surrounded by garden and lawn and plantations of hopeful .trees. As Christian ap- proached it he was in a perfectly easy state of mind ; the business he was going on was none of his, other- wise than as he was well satisfied with any oppor- tunity of making himself valuable to Mr. Philip Debarry. As he looked at Jermyn's length of wall and iron railing, he said to himself : " These lawyers are the fellows for getting on in the world with the least expense of civility. With this cursed conjur- ing secret of theirs called Law, they think every- body is frightened at them. My Lord Jermyn seems to have his insolence as ready as his soft sawder. He 's as sleek as a rat, and has as vicious a tooth. I know the sort of vermin well enough. I 've helped to fatten one or two." In this mood of conscious, contemptuous penetra- tion, Christian was shown by the footman into Jermyn's private room, where the attorney sat sur- rounded with massive oaken bookcases, and other furniture to correspond, from the thickest-legged library-table to the calendar frame and card-rack. It was the sort of room a man prepares for himself when he feels sure of a long and respectable future. 296 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. He was leaning back in his leather chair, against the broad window opening on the lawn, and had just taken off his spectacles and let the newspaper fall on his knees, in despair of reading by the fading light. When the footman opened the door and said, "Mr. Christian," Jermyn said, " Good-evening, Mr. Christian. Be seated," pointing to a chair opposite himself and the window. " Light the candles on the shelf, John, but leave the blinds alone." He did not speak again till the man was gone out, but appeared to be referring to a document which lay on the bureau before him. When the door was closed he drew himself up again, began to rub his hands, and turned towards his visitor, who seemed perfectly indifferent to the fact that the attorney was in shadow, and that the light fell on himself. "A — your name — a — is Henry Scaddon." There was a start through Christian's frame which he was quick enough, almost simultaneously, to try and disguise as a change of position. He uncrossed his legs and unbuttoned his coat. But before he had time to say anything, Jermyn went on with slow emphasis. "You were born on the 16th of December, 1782, at Blackheath. Your father was a cloth-merchant in London ; he died when you were barely of age, leaving an extensive business ; before you were five- and-twenty you had run through the greater part of the property, and had compromised your safety by an attempt to defraud your creditors. Subse- quently you forged a check on your father's elder brother, who had intended to make you his heir." Here Jermyn paused a moment and referred to the document. Christian was silent. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 297 "In 1808 you found it expedient to leave this country in a military disguise, and were taken pris- oner by the French. On the occasion of an ex- change of prisoners you had the opportunity of returning to your own country, and to the bosom of your own family. You were generous enough to sacrifice that prospect in favour of a fellow- prisoner, of about your own age and figure, who had more pressing reasons than yourself for wish- ing to be on this side of the water. You exchanged dress, luggage, and names with him, and he passed to England instead of you as Henry Scaddon. Al- most immediately afterwards you escaped from your imprisonment, after feigning an illness which prevented your exchange of names from being dis- covered ; and it was reported that you — that is, you under the name of your fellow-prisoner — were drowned in an open boat, trying to reach a Neapolitan vessel bound for Malta. Nevertheless, I have to congratulate you on the falsehood of that report, and on the certainty that you are now, after the lapse of more than twenty years, seated here in perfect safety." Jermyn paused so long that he was evidently awaiting some answer. At last Christian replied in a dogged tone, — " Well, sir, I 've heard much longer stories than that told quite as solemnly, when there was not a word of truth in them. Suppose I deny the very peg you hang your statement on. Suppose I say I am not Henry Scaddon." "A — in that case — a," said Jermyn, with wooden indifference, " you would lose the advantage which — a — may attach to your possession of Henry Scaddon's knowledge. And at the same time, if it 298 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. were in the least — a — inconvenient to you that you should be recognized as Henry Scaddon, your denial would not prevent me from holding the knowledge and evidence which I possess on that point ; it would only prevent us from pursuing the present conversation." " Well, sir, suppose we admit, for the sake of the conversation, that your account of the matter is the true one : what advantage have you to offer the man named Henry Scaddon ? " " The advantage — a — is problematical ; but it may be considerable. It might, in fact, release you from the necessity of acting as courier, or — a — valet, or whatever other office you may occupy which prevents you from being your own master. On the other hand, my acquaintance with your secret is not necessarily a disadvantage to you. To put the matter in a nutshell, I am not inclined — a — gratuitously — to do you any harm, and I may be able to do you a considerable service." " Which you want me to earn somehow ? " said Christian. " You offer me a turn in a lottery ? " " Precisely. The matter in question is of no earthly interest to you, except — a — as it may yield you a prize. We lawyers have to do with complicated questions, and — a — legal subtleties, which are never — a — fully known even to the parties immediately interested, still less to the wit- nesses. Shall we agree, then, that you continue to retain two thirds of the name which you gained by exchange, and that you oblige me by answering certain questions as to the experience of Henry Scaddon ? " " Very good. Go on." FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 299 "What articles of property, once belonging to your fellow-prisoner, Maurice Christian Bycliffe, do you still retain ? " " This ring," said Christian, twirling round the fine seal ring on his finger, " his watch, and the little matters that hung with it, and a case of papers. I got rid of a gold snuff-box once when I was hard-up. The clothes are all gone, of course. We exchanged everything ; it was all done in a hurry. Bycliff'e thought we should meet again in England before long, and he was mad to get there. But that was impossible, — I mean that we should meet soon after. I don't know what 's become of him, else I would give him up his papers and the watch, and so on, — though, you know, it was I who did him the service, and he felt that." " You were at Vesoul together before being moved to Verdun ? " " Yes." " What else do you know about Bycliffe ? " " Oh, nothing very particular," said Christian, pausing, and rapping his boot with his cane. " He 'd been in the Hanoverian army, — a high-spirited fellow, took nothing easily ; not over-strong in health. He made a fool of himself with marrying at Vesoul ; and there was the devil to pay with the girl's relations ; and then, when the prisoners were ordered off, they had to part. Whether they ever got together again I don't know." " Was the marriage all right then ? " " Oh, all on the square, — civil marriage, church, — everything. Bycliffe was a fool, — a good-na- tured, proud, headstrong fellow." " How long did the marriage take place before you left Vesoul ? " 300 EELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. "About three months. I was a witness to the marriage. " And you know no more about the wife ? " " Not afterwards. I knew her very well before, — pretty Annette — Annette Ledru was her name. She was of a good family, and they had made up a fine match for her. But she was one of your meek little diablesses, who have a will of their own once in their lives, — the will to choose their own master." " Bycliffe was not open to you about his other affairs ? " " Oh, no, — a fellow you would n't dare to ask a question of. People told him everything, but he told nothing in return. If Madame Annette ever found him again, she found her lord and master with a vengeance ; but she was a regular lapdog. However, her family shut her up — made a prisoner of her — to prevent her running away." " Ah, — good ! Much of what you have been so obliging as to say is irrelevant to any possible purpose of mine, which, in fact, has to do only with a mouldy law-case that might be aired some day. You will doubtless, on your own account, maintain perfect silence on what has passed between us, and with that condition duly preserved — a — it is possible that — a — the lottery you have put into — as you observe — may turn up a prize." "This, then, is all the business you have with me ? " said Christian, rising. " All. You will, of course, preserve carefully all the papers and other articles which have so many — a — recollections — a — attached to them ? " " Oh, yes. If there 's any chance of Bycliffe turn- ing up again, I shall be sorry to have parted with FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 301 the snuff-box ; but I was hard up at Naples. In fact, as you see, I was obliged at last to turn courier." " An exceedingly agreeable life for a man of some — a — accomplishments and — a — no income," said Jermyn, rising, and reaching a candle, which he placed against his desk. Christian knew this was a sign that he was ex- pected to go, but he lingered standing, with one hand on the back of his chair. At last he said rather sulkily, — " I think you 're too clever, Mr. Jermyn, not to perceive that I 'm not a man to be made a fool of." " Well — a — it may perhaps be a still better guarantee for you," said Jermyn, smiling, " that I see no use in attempting that — a — metamorphosis." " The old gentleman, who ought never to have felt himself injured, is dead now, and I 'm not afraid of creditors after more than twenty years." " Certainly not ; — a — there may indeed be claims which can't assert themselves — a — legally, which yet are molesting to a man of some reputa- tion. But you may perhaps be happily free from such fears." Jermyn drew round his chair towards the bureau; and Christian, too acute to persevere uselessly, said, "Good-day," and left the room. After leaning back in his chair to reflect a few minutes, Jermyn wrote the following letter : — Dear Johnson, — I learn from your letter, received this morning, that you intend returning to town on Saturday. While you are there, be so good as to see Medwin, who used to be with Batt & Cowley, and ascertain from him indirectly, and in the course of conversation on 302 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. other topics, whether in that old Business in 1810- 11, Scaddon alias Bycliffe, or Bycliffe alias Scaddon, before his imprisonment, gave Batt & Cowley any reason to believe that he was married and expected to have a child. The question, as you know, is of no practical importance ; but I wish to draw up an ab- stract of the Bycliffe case, and the exact position in which it stood before the suit was closed by the death of the plaintiff, in order that, if Mr. Harold Tran- some desires it, he may see how the failure of the last claim has secured the Durfey-Transome title, and whether there is a hair's-breadth of chance that an- other claim should be set up. Of course there is not a shadow of such a chance. For even if Batt & Cowley were to suppose that thoy had alighted on a surviving representative of the Bycliffes, it would not enter into their heads to set up a new claim, since they brought evidence that the last life which suspended the Bycliffe remainder was extinct before the case was closed, a good twenty years ago. Still, I want to show the present heir of the Durfey- Transomes the exact condition of the family title to the estates. So get me an answer from Medwin on the above-mentioned point. I shall meet you at Duffield next week. We must get Transome returned. Never mind his having been a little rough the other day, but go on doing what you know is necessary for his interest. His interest is mine, which I need not say is John Johnson's. Yours faithfully, Matthew Jermyn. When the attorney had sealed this letter and leaned back in his chair again, he was inwardly saying, — " Now, Mr. Harold, I shall shut up this affair in FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 303 a private drawer till you choose to take any ex- treme measures which will force me to bring it out. I have the matter entirely in my own power. No one but old Lyon knows about the girl's birth: No one but Scaddon can clench the evidence about Bycliffe, and I 've got Scaddon under my thumb. No soul except myself and Johnson, who is a limb of myself, knows that there is one half-dead life which may presently leave the girl a new claim to the Bycliffe heirship. I shall learn through Me- thurst whether Batt & Cowley knew, through Bycliffe, of this woman having come to England. I shall hold all the threads between my thumb and finger. I can use the evidence or I can nul- lify it. " And so, if Mr. Harold pushes me to extremity, and threatens me with Chancery and ruin, I have an opposing threat, which will either save me or turn into a punishment for him." He rose, put out his candles, and stood with his back to the fire, looking out on the dim lawn, with its black twilight fringe of shrubs, still meditating. Quick thought was gleaming over five-and-thirty years filled with devices more or less clever, more or less desirable to be avowed. Those which might be avowed with impunity were not always to be distinguished as innocent by comparison with those which it was advisable to conceal. In a profession where much that is noxious may be done without disgrace, is a conscience likely to be without balm when circumstances have urged a man to overstep the line where his good technical information makes him aware that (with discovery) disgrace is likely to begin ? With regard to the Transome affairs, the family 304 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. had been in pressing need of money, and it had lain with him to get it for them : was it to be ex- pected that he would not consider his own advan- tage where he had rendered services such as are never fully paid ? If it came to a question of right and wrong instead of law, the least justifiable things he had ever done had been done on behalf of the Transomes. It had been a deucedly un- pleasant thing for him to get Bycliffe arrested and thrown into prison as Henry Scaddon, — perhaps hastening the man's death in that way. But if it had not been done by dint of his (Jermyn's) ex- ertions and tact, he would like to know where the Durfey-Tran somes might have been by this time. As for right or wrong, if the truth were known, the very possession of the estate by the Durfey- Transomes was owing to law-tricks that took place nearly a century ago, when the original old Durfey got his base fee. But inward argument of this sort now, as always, was merged in anger, in exasperation, that Harold, precisely Harold Transome, should have turned out to be the probable instrument of a visitation which would be bad luck, not justice ; for is there any justice where ninety-nine out of a hundred escape ? He felt himself beginning to hate Harold as he had never — Just then Jermyn's third daughter, a tall slim girl, wrapped in a white woollen shawl, which she had hung over her blanket-wise, skipped across the iawn towards the greenhouse to get a flower. Jermyn was startled, and did not identify the fig- ure, or rather he identified it falsely with another tall white-wrapped figure which had sometimes set his heart beating quickly more than thirty years FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 3°5 before. For a moment he was fully back in those distant years when he and another bright-eyed person had seen no reason why they should not indulge their passion and their vanity, and deter- mine for themselves how their lives should be made delightful in spite of unalterable external conditions. The reasons had been unfolding them- selves gradually ever since through all the years which had converted the handsome, soft-eyed, slim young Jermyn (with a touch of sentiment) into a portly lawyer of sixty, for whom life had resolved itself into the means of keeping up his head among his professional brethren and maintaining an estab- lishment, — into a gray -haired husband and father, whose third affectionate and expensive daughter now rapped at the window and called to him, " Papa, papa, get ready for dinner ; don't you re- member that the Lukyns are coming ? " TOL. I. — 20 CHAPTEK XXII. Her gentle looks shot arrows, piercing him, As gods are pierced, with poison of sweet pity. The evening of the market-day had passed, and Felix had not looked in at Malthouse Yard to talk over the public events with Mr. Lyon. When Esther was dressing the next morning, she had reached a point of irritated anxiety to see Felix, at which she found herself devising little schemes for attaining that end in some way that would be so elaborate as to seem perfectly natural. Her watch had a long-standing ailment of losing ; possibly it wanted cleaning ; Felix would tell her if it merely wanted regulating, whereas Mr. Prowd might de- tain it unnecessarily, and cause her useless incon- venience. Or could she not get a valuable hint ' from Mrs. Holt about the homemade bread, which was something as " sad " as Lyddy herself ? Or, if she came home that way at twelve o'clock, Felix might be going out, she might meet him, and not be obliged to call. Or, --but it would be very much beneath her to take any steps of this sort. Her watch had been losing for the last two months, — why should it not go on losing a little longer ? She could think of no devices that were not so transparent as to be undignified. All the more un- dignified because Felix chose to live in a way that FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 307 would prevent any one from classing him according to his education and mental refinement, — " which certainly are very high," said Esther, inwardly, colouring, as if in answer to some contrary allega- tion, " else I should not think his opinion of any consequence." But she came to the conclusion that she could not possibly call at Mrs. Holt's. It followed that up to a few minutes past twelve, when she reached the turning towards Mrs. Holt's, she believed that she should go home the other way ; but at the last moment there is always a reason not existing before, — namely, the impossi- bility of further vacillation. Esther turned the corner without any visible pause, and in another minute was knocking at Mrs. Holt's door, not with- out an inward flutter, which she was bent on disguising. "It's never you, Miss Lyon! who 'd have thought of seeing you at this time ? Is the minister ill ? I thought he looked creechy. If you want help, I '11 put my bonnet on." " Don't keep Miss Lyon at the door, mother ; ask her to come in," said the ringing voice of Felix, surmounting various small shufflings and babbling voices within. " It 's my wish for her to come in, I 'm sure," said Mrs. Holt, making way ; " but what is there for her to come in to ? a floor worse than any public. But step in, pray, if you 're so inclined. When I 've been forced to take my bit of carpet up and have benches, I don't see why I need mind nothing no more." " I only came to ask Mr. Holt if he would look at my watch for me," said Esther, entering, and blush- ing a general rose-colour. 3o8 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. " He '11 do that fast enough," said Mrs. Holt, with emphasis ; " that 's one of the things he will do." " Excuse my rising, Miss Lyon," said Felix ; " I 'm binding up Job's finger." Job was a small fellow about five, with a germi- nal nose, large round blue eyes, and red hair that curled close to his head like the wool on the back of an infantine lamb. He had evidently been cry- ing, and the corners of his mouth were still dolo- rous. Felix held him on his knee as he bound and tied up very cleverly a tiny forefinger. There was a table in front of Felix and against the win- dow, covered with his watch-making implements and some open books. Two benches stood at right angles on the sanded floor, and six or seven boys of various ages up to twelve were getting their caps and preparing to go home. They huddled them- selves together and stood still when Esther entered. Felix could not look up till he had finished his sur- gery, but he went on speaking. " This is a hero, Miss Lyon. This is Job Tudge, a bold Briton whose finger hurts him, but who does n't mean to cry. Good-morning, boys. Don't lose your time. Get out into the air." Esther seated herself on the end of the bench near Felix, much relieved that Job was the im- mediate object of attention ; and the other boys rushed out behind her with a brief chant of " Good- morning ! " " Did you ever see," said Mrs. Holt, standing to look on, " how wonderful Felix is at that small work with his large fingers ? And that 's because he learnt doctoring. It is n't for want of cleverness he looks like a poor man, Miss Lyon. I 've left off speaking, else I should say it 's a sin and a shame." ■ft,. WilH^lH^HaHik ~ — v^Afikll Felix Holt and Job Tudge. FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 309 " Mother," said Felix, who often amused himself and kept good-humoured by giving his mother an- swers that were unintelligible to her, " you have an astonishing readiness in the Ciceronian antiphrasis, considering you have never studied oratory. There, Job, — thou patient man, — sit still if thou wilt ; and now we can look at Miss Lyon." Esther had taken off her watch and was holding it in her hand. But he looked at her face, or rather at her eyes, as he said, "You want me to doctor your watch ? " Esther's expression was appealing and timid, as it had never been before in Felix's presence ; but when she saw the perfect calmness, which to her seemed coldness, of his clear gray eyes, as if he saw no rea- son for attaching any emphasis to this first meeting, a pang swift as an electric shock darted through her. She had been very foolish to think so much of it. It seemed to her as if her inferiority to Felix made a great gulf between them. She could not at once rally her pride and self-command, but let her glance fall on her watch, and said, rather tremu- lously, " It loses. It is very troublesome. It has been losing a long while." Felix took the watch from her hand ; then, look- ing round and seeing that his mother was gone out of the room, he said very gently, — " You look distressed, Miss Lyon. I hope there- is no trouble at home " (Felix was thinking of the minister's agitation on the previous Sunday). " But I ought perhaps to beg your pardon for saying so much." Poor Esther was quite helpless. The mortifica- tion which had come like a bruise to all the sensi- bilities that had been in keen activity, insisted 00 3io FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. some relief. Her eyes filled instantly, and a great tear rolled down while she said in a loud sort of whisper, as involuntary as her tears, — " I wanted to tell you that I was not offended, — that I am not ungenerous — I thought you might think — but you have not thought of it." Was there ever more awkward speaking? — or any behaviour less like that of the graceful, self-pos- sessed Miss Lyon, whose phrases were usually so well turned, and whose repartees were so ready ? For a moment there was silence. Esther had her two little delicately gloved hands clasped on the table. The next moment she felt one hand of Felix covering them both and pressing them firmly ; but he did not speak. The tears were both on her cheeks now, and she could look up at him. His eyes had an expression of sadness in them quite new to her. Suddenly little Job, who had his mental exercises on the occasion, called out impatiently, — " She 's tut her finger ! " Felix and Esther laughed, and drew their hands away ; and as Esther took her handkerchief to wipe the tears from her cheeks, she said, — "You see, Job, I am a naughty coward. I can't help crying when I 've hurt myself." "Zoo sood n't kuy," said Job, energetically, being much impressed with a moral doctrine which had come to him after a sufficient trangression of it. " Job is like me," said Felix, " fonder of preach- ing than of practice. But let us look at this same watch," he went on, opening and examining it. " These little Geneva toys are cleverly constructed to go always a little wrong. But if you wind them up and set them regularly every night, you may FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 311 know at least that it 's not noon when the hand points there." Felix chatted, that Esther might recover herself ; but now Mrs. Holt came back and apologized. " You '11 excuse my going away, I know, Miss Lyon. But there were the dumplings to see to, and what little I 've got left on my hands now, I like to do well. Not but what I 've more cleaning to do than ever I had in my life before, as you may tell soon enough if you look at this floor. But when you've been used to doing things, and they've been taken away from you, it's as if your hands had been cut off, and you felt the fingers as are of no use to you." " That 's a great image, mother," said Felix, as he snapped the watch together, and handed it to Esther ; " I never heard you use such an image before." "Yes, I know you've always some fault to find with what your mother says. But if ever there was a woman could talk with the open Bible before her, and not be afraid, it's me. I never did tell stories, and I never will, — though I know it 's done, Miss Lyon, and by church members too, when they have candles to sell, as I could bring you the proof. But I never was one of 'em, let Felix say what he will about the printing on the tickets. His father believed it was gospel truth, and it's presumptuous to say it was n't. For as for curing, how can anybody know? There's no physic '11 cure without a bless- ing, and with a blessing I know I 've seen a mus- tard plaister work when there was no more smell nor strength in the mustard than so much flour; and reason good, — for the mustard had lain in paper nobody knows how long — so I '11 leave you to guess." 3i2 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Mrs. Holt looked hard out of the window, and gave a slight inarticulate sound of scorn. Felix had leaned back in his chair with a resigned smile, and was pinching Job's ears. Esther said, " I think I had better go now," not knowing what else to say, yet not wishing to go immediately, lest she should seem to be running away from Mrs. Holt. She felt keenly how much endurance there must be for Felix. And she had often been discontented with her father, and called him tiresome ! " Where does Job Tudge live ? " she said, still sitting, and looking at the droll little figure, set off by a ragged jacket with a tail about two inches deep sticking out above the funniest of corduroys. "Job has two mansions," said Felix. " He lives here chiefly ; but he has another home, where his grandfather, Mr. Tudge, the stone-breaker, lives. My mother is very good to Job, Miss Lyon. She has made him a little bed, in a cupboard, and she gives him sweetened porridge." The exquisite goodness implied in these words of Felix impressed Esther the more, because in her hearing his talk had usually been pungent and denunciatory. Looking at Mrs. Holt, she saw that her eyes had lost their bleak northeasterly expres- sion, and were shining with some mildness on little Job, who had turned round towards her, propping his head against Felix. " Well, why should n't I be motherly to the child, Miss Lyon ? " said Mrs. Holt, whose strong powers of argument required the file of an imagined con- tradiction, if there were no real one at hand. " I never was hard-hearted, and I never will be. It was Felix picked the child up and took to him, FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 3*3 you may be sure, for there 's nobody else master where he is ; but I was n't going to beat the orphan child and abuse him because of that, and him as straight as an arrow when he 's stript, and me so fond of children, and only had one of my own to live. I 'd three babies, Miss Lyon ; but the blessed Lord only spared Felix, and him the masterfullest and the brownest of 'em all. But I did my duty by him, and I said, he '11 have more schooling than his father, and he '11 grow up a doctor, and marry a woman with money to furnish, — as I was myself, spoons and everything, — and I shall have the grandchildren to look up to me, and be drove out in the gig sometimes, like old Mrs. Lukyn. And you see what it 's all come to, Miss Lyon : here 's Felix made a common man of himself, and says he '11 never be married, — which is the most un- reasonable thing, and him never easy but when he 's got the child on his lap, or when — " " Stop, stop, mother," Felix burst in ; " pray don't use that limping argument again, — that a man should marry because he 's fond of children. That's a reason for not marrying. A bachelor's children are always young ; they 're immortal chil- dren, — always lisping, waddling, helpless, and with a chance of turning out good." " The Lord above may know what you mean ! And have n't other folk's children a chance of turning out good ? " " Oh, they grow out of it very fast. Here 's Job Tudge now," said Felix, turning the little one round on his knee, and holding his head by the back, — " Job's limbs will get lanky ; this little fist that looks like a puff-ball and can hide nothing bigger than a gooseberry, will get large and bony, and 314 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. perhaps want to clutch more than its share ; these wide blue eyes that tell me more truth than Job knows, will narrow and narrow and try to hide truth that Job would be better without knowing ; this little negative nose will become long and self-asserting ; and this little tongue — put out thy tongue, Job ! " — Job, awe-struck under this ceremony, put out a little red tongue very timidly — " this tongue, hardly bigger than a rose- leaf, will get large and thick, wag out of season, do mischief, brag and cant for gain or vanity, and cut as cruelly, for all its clumsiness, as if it were a sharp-edged blade. Big Job will perhaps be naughty — " As Felix, speaking with the loud emphatic distinctness habitual to him, brought out this terribly familiar word, Job's sense of mystification became too painful ; he hung his lip and began to cry. " See there," said Mrs. Holt, " you 're frighten- ing the innicent child with such talk, — and it 's enough to frighten them that think themselves the safest." " Look here, Job, my man," said Felix, setting the boy down and turning him towards Esther ; "go to Miss Lyon, ask her to smile at you, and that will dry up your tears like the sunshine." Job put his two brown fists on Esther's lap, and she stooped to kiss him. Then holding his face between her hands, she said : " Tell Mr. Holt we don't mean to be naughty, Job. He should be- lieve in us more. But now I must really go home." Esther rose and held out her hand to Mrs. Holt, who kept it while she said, a little to Esther's confusion, — PELTX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 315 " I am very glad it 's took your fancy to come here sometimes, Miss Lyon. I know you 're thought to hold your head high, but I speak of people as I find 'em. And I 'in sure anybody had need be humble that comes where there 's a floor like this, — for I 've put by my best tea-trays, they 're so out of all charicter, — I must look Above for comfort now ; but I don't say I 'm not worthy to be called on for all that." Felix had risen and moved towards the door, that he might open it and shield Esther from more last words on his mother's part. "Good-by, Mr. Holt." " Will Mr. Lyon like me to sit with him an hour this evening, do you think ? " " Why not ? He always likes to see you." " Then I will come. Good-by." " She 's a very straight figure," said Mrs. Holt. " How she carries herself ! But I doubt there 's some truth in what our people say. If she won't look at young Muscat, it 's the better for him. He 'd need have a big fortune that marries her." " That 's true, mother," said Felix, sitting down, snatching up little Job, and finding a vent for some unspeakable feeling in the pretence of worrying him. Esther was rather melancholy as she went home, yet happier withal than she had been for many days before. She thought : " I need not mind having shown so much anxiety about his opinion. He is too clear-sighted to mistake our mutual position ; he is quite above putting a false interpretation on what I have done. Besides, he had not thought of me at all, — I saw that plainly enough. Yet he Was very kind. There is something greater and 316 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. better in him than I had imagined. His behaviour to-day — to his mother and me too, — I should call it the highest gentlemanliness, only it seems in him to be something deeper. But he has chosen an intolerable life ; though I suppose, if I had a mind equal to his, and if he loved me very dearly, I should choose the same life." Esther felt that she had prefixed an impossible " if " to that result. But now she had known Felix, her conception of what a happy love must be had become like a dissolving view, in which the once- clear images were gradually melting into new forms and new colours. The favourite Byronic heroes were beginning to look something like last night's decorations seen in the sober dawn. So fast does a little leaven spread within us, — so incalculable is the effect of one personality on another. Behind all Esther's thoughts, like an unacknowledged yet constraining presence, there was the sense that if Felix Holt were to love her, her life would be ex- alted into something quite new, — into a sort of difficult blessedness, such as one may imagine in beings who are conscious of painfully growing into the possession of higher powers. It was quite true that Felix had not thought the more of Esther because of that Sunday afternoon's interview which had shaken her mind to the very roots. He had avoided intruding on Mr. Lyon without special reason, because he believed the min- ister to be preoccupied with some private care. He had thought a great deal of Esther with a mixture of strong disapproval and strong liking, which both together made a feeling the reverse of indifference ; but he was not going to let her have any influence on his life. Even if his determination had not FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 317 been fixed, he would have believed that she would utterly scorn hirn in any other light than that of an acquaintance, and the emotion she had shown to-day did not change that belief. But he was deeply touched by this manifestation of her better qualities, and felt that there was a new tie of friendship between them. That was the brief history Felix would have given of his relation to Esther. And he was accustomed to observe him- self. But very close and diligent looking at living creatures, even through the best microscope, will leave room for new and contradictory discoveries. Felix found Mr. Lyon particularly glad to talk to him. The minister had never yet disburthened himself about his letter to Mr. Philip Debarry concerning the public conference ; and as by this time he had all the heads of his discussion thoroughly in his mind, it was agreeable to recite them, as well as to express his regret that time had been lost by Mr. Debarry's absence from the Manor, which had prevented the immediate fulfilment of his pledge. " I don't see how he can fulfil it if the Sector refuses," said Felix, thinking it well to moderate the little man's confidence. " The Eector is of a spirit that will not incur earthly impeachment, and he cannot refuse what is necessary to his nephew's honourable discharge of an obligation," said Mr. Lyon. " My young friend, it is a case wherein the prearranged conditions tend by such a beautiful fitness to the issue I have sought, that I should have forever held my- self a traitor to my charge had I neglected the indication." CHAPTEE XXIII. I will not excuse you ; you shall not be excused ; excuses shall not be admitted ; there 's no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be excused. — Henry I V. When Philip Debarry had come home that morn- ing and read the letters which had not been for- warded to him, he laughed so heartily at Mr. Lyon's that he congratulated himself on being in his private room. Otherwise his laughter would have awakened the curiosity of Sir Maximus, and Philip did not wish to tell any one the contents of the letter until he had shown them to his uncle. He determined to ride over to the Eectory to lunch ; for as Lady Mary was away, he and his uncle might be tete-a-tete. The Eectory was on the other side of the river, close to the church, of which it was the fitting com- panion ; a fine old brick-and-stone house, with a great bow-window opening from the library on to the deep-turfed lawn, one fat dog sleeping on the door-stone, another fat dog waddling on the gravel, the autumn leaves duly swept away, the lingering chrysanthemums cherished, tall trees stooping or soaring in the most picturesque variety, and a Virginian creeper turning a little rustic hut into a scarlet pavilion. It was one of those rectories which are among the bulwarks of our venerable institutions, — which arrest disintegrating doubt, serve as a double embankment against Popery and FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 319 Dissent, and rally feminine instinct and affection to reinforce the decisions of masculine thought. " What makes you look so merry, Phil ? M said the Eector, as his nephew entered the pleasant library. " Something that concerns you," said Philip, tak- ing out the letter. " A clerical challenge. Here 's an opportunity for you to emulate the divines of the sixteenth century and have a theological duel. Eead this letter."' ' " What answer have you sent the crazy little fellow ? " said the Eector, keeping the letter in his hand and running over it again and again, with brow knit, but eyes gleaming without any malignity. " Oh, I sent no answer. I awaited yours." " Mine ! " said the Eector, throwing down the letter on the table. " You don't suppose I 'm going to hold a public debate with a schismatic of that sort ? I should have an infidel shoemaker next expecting me to answer blasphemies delivered in bad grammar." " But you see how he puts it," said Philip. With all his gravity of nature he could not resist a slightly mischievous prompting, though he had a serious feeling that he should not like to be re- garded as failing to fulfil his pledge. " I think if you refuse, I shall be obliged to offer myself." " Nonsense ! Tell him he is himself acting a dishonourable part in interpreting your words as a pledge to do any preposterous thing that suits his fancy. Suppose he had asked you to give him land to build a chapel on ; doubtless that would have given him a ' lively satisfaction.' A man who puts a non-natural strained sense on a promise is no better than a robber." " But he has not asked for land. I dare say he 320 FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. thinks you won't object to his proposal. I con- fess there 's a simplicity and quaintness about the letter that rather pleases me." " Let me tell you, Phil, he 's a crazy little firefly, that does a great deal of harm in my parish. He inflames the Dissenters' minds on politics. There 's no end to the mischief done by these busy prating men. They make the ignorant multitude the judges of the largest questions, both political and religious, till we shall soon have no institution left that is not on a level with the comprehension of a huckster or a drayman. There can be nothing more retrograde, — losing all the results of civilization, all the lessons of Providence, — letting the windlass run down after men have been turning at it painfully for gener- ations. If the instructed are not to judge for the uninstructed, why, let us set Dick Stubbs to make our almanacs, and have a President of the Royal Society elected by universal suffrage." The Rector had risen, placed himself with his back to the fire, and thrust his hands in his pockets, ready to insist further on this wide argument. Philip sat nursing one leg, listening respectfully, as he always did, though often listening to the sono- rous echo of his own statements, which suited his uncle's needs so exactly that he did not distinguish them from his old impressions. "True," said Philip, "but in special cases we have to do with special conditions. You know I defend the casuists. And it may happen that for the honour of the Church in Treby and a little also for my honour, circumstances may demand a concession even to some notions of a Dissenting preacher." " Not at all. I should be making a figure which my brother clergy might well take as an affront to FELIX HOLT. THE RADICAL 321 iftemselves. The character of the Establishment has suffered enough already through the Evangeli- cals, with their extempore incoherence and their pipe-smoking piety. Look at Wimple, the man who is vicar of Shuttleton, — without his gown and bands, anybody would take him for a grocer in mourning." " Well, I shall cut a still worse figure, and so will you, in the Dissenting magazines and newspapers. It will go the round of the kingdom. There will be a paragraph headed ' Tory Falsehood and Cleri- cal Cowardice,' or else ' The Meanness of the Aris- tocracy and the Incompetence of the Beneficed Clergy.' " " There would be a worse paragraph if I were to consent to the debate. Of course it would be said that I was beaten hollow, and that now the ques- tion had been cleared up at Treby Magna, the Church had not a sound leg to stand on. Besides," the Bector went on, frowning and smiling, " it 's all very well for you to talk, Phil, but this debating is not so easy when a man's close upon sixty. What one writes or says must be something good and scholarly ; and after all had been done, this little Lyon would buzz about one like a wasp, and cross- question and rejoin. Let me tell you, a plain truth may be so worried and mauled by fallacies as to get the worst of it. There 's no such thin