Fred, whom he no longer moved to laughter, thought him the lowest monster he had ever seen. But Fred was feeling rather sick.
The Middlemarch mercer waited for an opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no knowing how many pairs of legs the new proprietor might require hose for, and profits were more to be relied on than legacies. Also, the mercer, as a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity.
Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained proudly silent, though too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of moving, till he observed that his wife had gone to Fred's side and was crying silently while she held her darling's hand.
He rose immediately, and turning his back on the company while he said to her in an undertone,--"Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, before these people," he added in his usual loud voice--"Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste."Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her father.
She met Fred in the hall, and now for the first time had the courage to look at him He had that withered sort of paleness which will sometimes come on young faces, and his hand was very cold when she shook it. Mary too was agitated; she was conscious that fatally, without will of her own, she had perhaps made a great difference to Fred's lot.
"Good-by," she said, with affectionate sadness. "Be brave, Fred.
I do believe you are better without the money. What was the good of it to Mr. Featherstone?""That's all very fine," said Fred, pettishly. "What is a fellow to do? I must go into the Church now." (He knew that this would vex Mary: very well; then she must tell him what else he could do.)"And I thought I should be able to pay your father at once and make everything right. And you have not even a hundred pounds left you.
What shall you do now, Mary?"
"Take another situation, of course, as soon as I can get one.
My father has enough to do to keep the rest, without me. Good-by."In a very short time Stone Court was cleared of well-brewed Featherstones and other long-accustomed visitors. Another stranger had been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in the case of Mr. Rigg Featherstone there was more discontent with immediate visible consequences than speculation as to the effect which his presence might have in the future. No soul was prophetic enough to have any foreboding as to what might appear on the trial of Joshua Rigg.
And here I am naturally led to reflect on the means of elevating a low subject. Historical parallels are remarkably efficient in this way. The chief objection to them is, that the diligent narrator may lack space, or (what is often the same thing) may not be able to think of them with any degree of particularity, though he may have a philosophical confidence that if known they would be illustrative.
It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that--since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa--whatever has been or is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style.
Thus while I tell the truth about loobies, my reader's imagination need not be entirely excluded from an occupation with lords;and the petty sums which any bankrupt of high standing would be sorry to retire upon, may be lifted to the level of high commercial transactions by the inexpensive addition of proportional ciphers.
As to any provincial history in which the agents are all of high moral rank, that must be of a date long posterior to the first Reform Bill, and Peter Featherstone, you perceive, was dead and buried some months before Lord Grey came into office.
