Chapter XIV
The Return Home
WHILE that parting in the wood was happening, there was a parting in thecottage too, and Lisbeth had stood with Adam at the door, straining heraged eyes to get the last glimpse of Seth and Dinah, as they mounted theopposite slope.
"Eh, I'm loath to see the last on her," she said to Adam, as they turnedinto the house again. "I'd ha' been willin' t' ha' her about me tillI died and went to lie by my old man. She'd make it easier dyin'--shespakes so gentle an' moves about so still. I could be fast sure thatpictur' was drawed for her i' thy new Bible--th' angel a-sittin' on thebig stone by the grave. Eh, I wouldna mind ha'in a daughter like that;but nobody ne'er marries them as is good for aught."
"Well, Mother, I hope thee WILT have her for a daughter; for Seth's gota liking for her, and I hope she'll get a liking for Seth in time."
"Where's th' use o' talkin' a-that'n? She caresna for Seth. She's goin'away twenty mile aff. How's she to get a likin' for him, I'd like toknow? No more nor the cake 'ull come wi'out the leaven. Thy figurin'books might ha' tould thee better nor that, I should think, else theemightst as well read the commin print, as Seth allays does."
"Nay, Mother," said Adam, laughing, "the figures tell us a fine deal,and we couldn't go far without 'em, but they don't tell us about folks'sfeelings. It's a nicer job to calculate THEM. But Seth's as good-hearteda lad as ever handled a tool, and plenty o' sense, and good-looking too;and he's got the same way o' thinking as Dinah. He deserves to win her,though there's no denying she's a rare bit o' workmanship. You don't seesuch women turned off the wheel every day."
"Eh, thee't allays stick up for thy brother. Thee'st been just thesame, e'er sin' ye war little uns together. Thee wart allays for halvingiverything wi' him. But what's Seth got to do with marryin', as is on'ythree-an'-twenty? He'd more need to learn an' lay by sixpence. An' asfor his desarving her--she's two 'ear older nor Seth: she's prettynear as old as thee. But that's the way; folks mun allays choose bycontrairies, as if they must be sorted like the pork--a bit o' good meatwi' a bit o' offal."
To the feminine mind in some of its moods, all things that might bereceive a temporary charm from comparison with what is; and since Adamdid not want to marry Dinah himself, Lisbeth felt rather peevish on thatscore--as peevish as she would have been if he HAD wanted to marryher, and so shut himself out from Mary Burge and the partnership aseffectually as by marrying Hetty.
It was more than half-past eight when Adam and his mother were talkingin this way, so that when, about ten minutes later, Hetty reached theturning of the lane that led to the farmyard gate, she saw Dinah andSeth approaching it from the opposite direction, and waited for them tocome up to her. They, too, like Hetty, had lingered a little in theirwalk, for Dinah was trying to speak words of comfort and strength toSeth in these parting moments. But when they saw Hetty, they paused andshook hands; Seth turned homewards, and Dinah came on alone.
"Seth Bede would have come and spoken to you, my dear," she said, as shereached Hetty, "but he's very full of trouble to-night."
Hetty answered with a dimpled smile, as if she did not quite know whathad been said; and it made a strange contrast to see that sparklingself-engrossed loveliness looked at by Dinah's calm pitying face, withits open glance which told that her heart lived in no cherished secretsof its own, but in feelings which it longed to share with all the world.Hetty liked Dinah as well as she had ever liked any woman; how was itpossible to feel otherwise towards one who always put in a kind word forher when her aunt was finding fault, and who was always ready to takeTotty off her hands--little tiresome Totty, that was made such a pet ofby every one, and that Hetty could see no interest in at all? Dinahhad never said anything disapproving or reproachful to Hetty during herwhole visit to the Hall Farm; she had talked to her a great deal in aserious way, but Hetty didn't mind that much, for she never listened:whatever Dinah might say, she almost always stroked Hetty's cheek afterit, and wanted to do some mending for her. Dinah was a riddle to her;Hetty looked at her much in the same way as one might imagine a littleperching bird that could only flutter from bough to bough, to look atthe swoop of the swallow or the mounting of the lark; but she did notcare to solve such riddles, any more than she cared to know what wasmeant by the pictures in the Pilgrim's Progress, or in the old folioBible that Marty and Tommy always plagued her about on a Sunday.
Dinah took her hand now and drew it under her own arm.
"You look very happy to-night, dear child," she said. "I shall think ofyou often when I'm at Snowfield, and see your face before me as it isnow. It's a strange thing--sometimes when I'm quite alone, sitting inmy room with my eyes closed, or walking over the hills, the people I'veseen and known, if it's only been for a few days, are brought before me,and I hear their voices and see them look and move almost plainer thanI ever did when they were really with me so as I could touch them. Andthen my heart is drawn out towards them, and I feel their lot as ifit was my own, and I take comfort in spreading it before the Lord andresting in His love, on their behalf as well as my own. And so I feelsure you will come before me."
She paused a moment, but Hetty said nothing.
"It has been a very precious time to me," Dinah went on, "last nightand to-day--seeing two such good sons as Adam and Seth Bede. They are sotender and thoughtful for their aged mother. And she has been tellingme what Adam has done, for these many years, to help his father and hisbrother; it's wonderful what a spirit of wisdom and knowledge he has,and how he's ready to use it all in behalf of them that are feeble. AndI'm sure he has a loving spirit too. I've noticed it often among myown people round Snowfield, that the strong, skilful men are often thegentlest to the women and children; and it's pretty to see 'em carryingthe little babies as if they were no heavier than little birds. And thebabies always seem to like the strong arm best. I feel sure it would beso with Adam Bede. Don't you think so, Hetty?"
"Yes," said Hetty abstractedly, for her mind had been all the whilein the wood, and she would have found it difficult to say what she wasassenting to. Dinah saw she was not inclined to talk, but there wouldnot have been time to say much more, for they were now at the yard-gate.
The still twilight, with its dying western red and its few faintstruggling stars, rested on the farm-yard, where there was not a soundto be heard but the stamping of the cart-horses in the stable. It wasabout twenty minutes after sunset. The fowls were all gone to roost,and the bull-dog lay stretched on the straw outside his kennel, withthe black-and-tan terrier by his side, when the falling-to of the gatedisturbed them and set them barking, like good officials, before theyhad any distinct knowledge of the reason.
The barking had its effect in the house, for, as Dinah and Hettyapproached, the doorway was filled by a portly figure, with a ruddyblack-eyed face which bore in it the possibility of looking extremelyacute, and occasionally contemptuous, on market-days, but had now apredominant after-supper expression of hearty good-nature. It is wellknown that great scholars who have shown the most pitiless acerbity intheir criticism of other men's scholarship have yet been of a relentingand indulgent temper in private life; and I have heard of a learned manmeekly rocking the twins in the cradle with his left hand, while withhis right he inflicted the most lacerating sarcasms on an opponent whohad betrayed a brutal ignorance of Hebrew. Weaknesses and errors mustbe forgiven--alas! they are not alien to us--but the man who takes thewrong side on the momentous subject of the Hebrew points must be treatedas the enemy of his race. There was the same sort of antithetic mixturein Martin Poyser: he was of so excellent a disposition that he had beenkinder and more respectful than ever to his old father since he had madea deed of gift of all his property, and no man judged his neighboursmore charitably on all personal matters; but for a farmer, like LukeBritton, for example, whose fallows were not well cleaned, who didn'tknow the rudiments of hedging and ditching, and showed but a small shareof judgment in the purchase of winter stock, Martin Poyser was as hardand implacable as the north-east wind. Luke B
ritton could not make aremark, even on the weather, but Martin Poyser detected in it a taintof that unsoundness and general ignorance which was palpable in all hisfarming operations. He hated to see the fellow lift the pewter pint tohis mouth in the bar of the Royal George on market-day, and the meresight of him on the other side of the road brought a severe and criticalexpression into his black eyes, as different as possible from thefatherly glance he bent on his two nieces as they approached the door.Mr. Poyser had smoked his evening pipe, and now held his hands in hispockets, as the only resource of a man who continues to sit up after theday's business is done.
"Why, lasses, ye're rather late to-night," he said, when they reachedthe little gate leading into the causeway. "The mother's begun to fidgetabout you, an' she's got the little un ill. An' how did you leave theold woman Bede, Dinah? Is she much down about the old man? He'd been buta poor bargain to her this five year."
"She's been greatly distressed for the loss of him," said Dinah, "butshe's seemed more comforted to-day. Her son Adam's been at home all day,working at his father's coffin, and she loves to have him at home. She'sbeen talking about him to me almost all the day. She has a loving heart,though she's sorely given to fret and be fearful. I wish she had a surertrust to comfort her in her old age."
"Adam's sure enough," said Mr. Poyser, misunderstanding Dinah's wish."There's no fear but he'll yield well i' the threshing. He's not oneo' them as is all straw and no grain. I'll be bond for him any day, ashe'll be a good son to the last. Did he say he'd be coming to see ussoon? But come in, come in," he added, making way for them; "I hadn'tneed keep y' out any longer."
The tall buildings round the yard shut out a good deal of the sky,but the large window let in abundant light to show every corner of thehouse-place.
Mrs. Poyser, seated in the rocking-chair, which had been brought out ofthe "right-hand parlour," was trying to soothe Totty to sleep. But Tottywas not disposed to sleep; and when her cousins entered, she raisedherself up and showed a pair of flushed cheeks, which looked fatter thanever now they were defined by the edge of her linen night-cap.
In the large wicker-bottomed arm-chair in the left-hand chimney-nook satold Martin Poyser, a hale but shrunken and bleached image of his portlyblack-haired son--his head hanging forward a little, and his elbowspushed backwards so as to allow the whole of his forearm to rest on thearm of the chair. His blue handkerchief was spread over his knees, aswas usual indoors, when it was not hanging over his head; and he satwatching what went forward with the quiet OUTWARD glance of healthy oldage, which, disengaged from any interest in an inward drama, spies outpins upon the floor, follows one's minutest motions with an unexpectantpurposeless tenacity, watches the flickering of the flame or thesun-gleams on the wall, counts the quarries on the floor, watches eventhe hand of the clock, and pleases itself with detecting a rhythm in thetick.
"What a time o' night this is to come home, Hetty!" said Mrs. Poyser."Look at the clock, do; why, it's going on for half-past nine, and I'vesent the gells to bed this half-hour, and late enough too; when they'vegot to get up at half after four, and the mowers' bottles to fill, andthe baking; and here's this blessed child wi' the fever for what I know,and as wakeful as if it was dinner-time, and nobody to help me to giveher the physic but your uncle, and fine work there's been, and half ofit spilt on her night-gown--it's well if she's swallowed more nor 'ullmake her worse i'stead o' better. But folks as have no mind to be o' usehave allays the luck to be out o' the road when there's anything to bedone."
"I did set out before eight, aunt," said Hetty, in a pettish tone, witha slight toss of her head. "But this clock's so much before the clock atthe Chase, there's no telling what time it'll be when I get here."
"What! You'd be wanting the clock set by gentlefolks's time, would you?An' sit up burnin' candle, an' lie a-bed wi' the sun a-bakin' you like acowcumber i' the frame? The clock hasn't been put forrard for the firsttime to-day, I reckon."
The fact was, Hetty had really forgotten the difference of the clockswhen she told Captain Donnithorne that she set out at eight, and this,with her lingering pace, had made her nearly half an hour later thanusual. But here her aunt's attention was diverted from this tendersubject by Totty, who, perceiving at length that the arrival ofher cousins was not likely to bring anything satisfactory to her inparticular, began to cry, "Munny, munny," in an explosive manner.
"Well, then, my pet, Mother's got her, Mother won't leave her; Totty bea good dilling, and go to sleep now," said Mrs. Poyser, leaning back androcking the chair, while she tried to make Totty nestle against her.But Totty only cried louder, and said, "Don't yock!" So the mother, withthat wondrous patience which love gives to the quickest temperament, satup again, and pressed her cheek against the linen night-cap and kissedit, and forgot to scold Hetty any longer.
"Come, Hetty," said Martin Poyser, in a conciliatory tone, "go and getyour supper i' the pantry, as the things are all put away; an' then youcan come and take the little un while your aunt undresses herself, forshe won't lie down in bed without her mother. An' I reckon YOU could eata bit, Dinah, for they don't keep much of a house down there."
"No, thank you, Uncle," said Dinah; "I ate a good meal before I cameaway, for Mrs. Bede would make a kettle-cake for me."
"I don't want any supper," said Hetty, taking off her hat. "I can holdTotty now, if Aunt wants me."
"Why, what nonsense that is to talk!" said Mrs. Poyser. "Do you thinkyou can live wi'out eatin', an' nourish your inside wi' stickin' redribbons on your head? Go an' get your supper this minute, child; there'sa nice bit o' cold pudding i' the safe--just what you're fond of."
Hetty complied silently by going towards the pantry, and Mrs. Poyserwent on speaking to Dinah.
"Sit down, my dear, an' look as if you knowed what it was to makeyourself a bit comfortable i' the world. I warrant the old woman wasglad to see you, since you stayed so long."
"She seemed to like having me there at last; but her sons say shedoesn't like young women about her commonly; and I thought just at firstshe was almost angry with me for going."
"Eh, it's a poor look-out when th' ould folks doesna like the younguns," said old Martin, bending his head down lower, and seeming to tracethe pattern of the quarries with his eye.
"Aye, it's ill livin' in a hen-roost for them as doesn't like fleas,"said Mrs. Poyser. "We've all had our turn at bein' young, I reckon, be'tgood luck or ill."
"But she must learn to 'commodate herself to young women," said Mr.Poyser, "for it isn't to be counted on as Adam and Seth 'ull keepbachelors for the next ten year to please their mother. That 'ud beunreasonable. It isn't right for old nor young nayther to make a bargainall o' their own side. What's good for one's good all round i' thelong run. I'm no friend to young fellows a-marrying afore they know thedifference atween a crab an' a apple; but they may wait o'er long."
"To be sure," said Mrs. Poyser; "if you go past your dinner-time,there'll be little relish o' your meat. You turn it o'er an' o'er wi'your fork, an' don't eat it after all. You find faut wi' your meat, an'the faut's all i' your own stomach."
Hetty now came back from the pantry and said, "I can take Totty now,Aunt, if you like."
"Come, Rachel," said Mr. Poyser, as his wife seemed to hesitate, seeingthat Totty was at last nestling quietly, "thee'dst better let Hettycarry her upstairs, while thee tak'st thy things off. Thee't tired. It'stime thee wast in bed. Thee't bring on the pain in thy side again."
"Well, she may hold her if the child 'ull go to her," said Mrs. Poyser.
Hetty went close to the rocking-chair, and stood without her usualsmile, and without any attempt to entice Totty, simply waiting for heraunt to give the child into her hands.
"Wilt go to Cousin Hetty, my dilling, while mother gets ready to go tobed? Then Totty shall go into Mother's bed, and sleep there all night."
Before her mother had done speaking, Totty had given her answer inan unmistakable manner, by knitting her brow, setting her tiny teethagainst her underlip, and leani
ng forward to slap Hetty on the arm withher utmost force. Then, without speaking, she nestled to her motheragain.
"Hey, hey," said Mr. Poyser, while Hetty stood without moving, "not goto Cousin Hetty? That's like a babby. Totty's a little woman, an' not ababby."
"It's no use trying to persuade her," said Mrs. Poyser. "She allaystakes against Hetty when she isn't well. Happen she'll go to Dinah."
Dinah, having taken off her bonnet and shawl, had hitherto kept quietlyseated in the background, not liking to thrust herself between Hetty andwhat was considered Hetty's proper work. But now she came forward, and,putting out her arms, said, "Come Totty, come and let Dinah carry herupstairs along with Mother: poor, poor Mother! she's so tired--she wantsto go to bed."
Totty turned her face towards Dinah, and looked at her an instant, thenlifted herself up, put out her little arms, and let Dinah lift her fromher mother's lap. Hetty turned away without any sign of ill humour,and, taking her hat from the table, stood waiting with an air ofindifference, to see if she should be told to do anything else.
"You may make the door fast now, Poyser; Alick's been come in this longwhile," said Mrs. Poyser, rising with an appearance of relief fromher low chair. "Get me the matches down, Hetty, for I must have therushlight burning i' my room. Come, Father."
The heavy wooden bolts began to roll in the house doors, and old Martinprepared to move, by gathering up his blue handkerchief, and reachinghis bright knobbed walnut-tree stick from the corner. Mrs. Poyser thenled the way out of the kitchen, followed by the grandfather, and Dinahwith Totty in her arms--all going to bed by twilight, like the birds.Mrs. Poyser, on her way, peeped into the room where her two boys lay;just to see their ruddy round cheeks on the pillow, and to hear for amoment their light regular breathing.
"Come, Hetty, get to bed," said Mr. Poyser, in a soothing tone, ashe himself turned to go upstairs. "You didna mean to be late, I'llbe bound, but your aunt's been worrited to-day. Good-night, my wench,good-night."