Middlemarch

CHAPTER LII.

“His heart / The lowliest duties on itself did lay.” On the June evening when Mr. Farebrother knew he was to have the Lowick living, there was joy in the old-fashioned parlor. His mother sat with her usual primness, showing emotion by a flush in her cheeks. “The greatest comfort, Camden, is that you have deserved it.”

“When a man gets a good berth, mother, half the deserving must come after.” His gladness seemed to have energy enough to flash outwardly and light up busy vision within.

“Now, aunt,” he went on, “There shall be sugar-candy always on the table for you to steal.” Miss Noble nodded with a half-frightened laugh. “As for you, Winny—I shall make no difficulty about your marrying any Lowick bachelor—Mr. Solomon Featherstone, for example.”

“You must set me the example, Cam: you must marry now.”

“I am a seedy old fellow.” His mother assured him he was a handsome man. “My son’s choice shall be mine,” she said with majestic discretion, “and a wife would be most welcome.”

Hardly a week later, Duty presented itself under the disguise of Fred Vincy. “I am ashamed to trouble you, Mr. Farebrother. I told you everything once before.”

Fred plunged ahead. “I might go into the Church now. I don’t like it, but I know it’s uncommonly hard on my father. And I can’t see anything else to do.”

“Have you any difficulties about doctrines?” “No; the Articles are right.” “Then it has occurred to you that you might be a fair parish priest without being much of a divine?”

“Of course, if I am obliged to be a clergyman, I shall try and do my duty, though I mayn’t like it.”

“But there is another hindrance. There is somebody I am very fond of: I have loved her ever since we were children.”

“Miss Garth, I suppose?” “Yes. I shouldn’t mind anything if she would have me.”

That very day Mr. Farebrother went to Lowick parsonage on his new nag. “Decidedly I am an old stalk,” he thought. He found Mary in the garden, scolding a small black-and-tan terrier. “Fly, Fly, I am ashamed of you. This is not becoming in a sensible dog; anybody would think you were a silly young gentleman.”

“You are unmerciful to young gentlemen, Miss Garth,” said the Vicar.

“It always answers to reason with Fly.” “But not with young gentlemen?” “Oh, with some, I suppose.”

“I want at this very moment to interest you in a young gentleman.”

“Not a silly one, I hope,” said Mary, beginning to pluck the roses.

“I hope you know by those marks what young gentleman I mean.” “Yes; it must be Fred Vincy.”

Mary’s face grew serious. After clearing her mind of superstitions about the burnt will, Mr. Farebrother said, “Fred will not take any course which would lessen the chance that you would consent to be his wife; but with that prospect, he will try his best at anything you approve.”

“I cannot possibly say that I will ever be his wife, Mr. Farebrother: but I certainly never will be his wife if he becomes a clergyman. What you say is most generous and kind. I have my girlish, mocking way of looking at things.”

“Then the answer is quite decided. As a clergyman he could have no hope?”

Mary shook her head. “I think Fred ought not to need telling again what I have already said to him. I should like better than anything to see him worthy of every one’s respect. But please tell him I will not promise to marry him till then.”

“Either your feeling for Fred Vincy excludes another attachment, or it does not.”

“Since you think it my duty, Mr. Farebrother, I will tell you that I have too strong a feeling for Fred to give him up for any one else. I cannot imagine any new feeling coming to make that weaker.”

Farebrother put out his hand. “Then I have fulfilled my commission thoroughly. God bless you!” Her eyes filled with tears, for something like the resolute suppression of a pain in his manner made her feel suddenly miserable. He rode back, having gone magnanimously through a duty much harder than the renunciation of whist.