Chapter III
The Family Council
It was at eleven o'clock the next morning that the aunts and unclescame to hold their consultation. The fire was lighted in the largeparlor, and poor Mrs. Tulliver, with a confused impression that it wasa great occasion, like a funeral, unbagged the bell-rope tassels, andunpinned the curtains, adjusting them in proper folds, looking roundand shaking her head sadly at the polished tops and legs of thetables, which sister Pullet herself could not accuse of insufficientbrightness.
Mr. Deane was not coming, he was away on business; but Mrs. Deaneappeared punctually in that handsome new gig with the head to it, andthe livery-servant driving it, which had thrown so clear a light onseveral traits in her character to some of her female friends in St.Ogg's. Mr. Deane had been advancing in the world as rapidly as Mr.Tulliver had been going down in it; and in Mrs. Deane's house theDodson linen and plate were beginning to hold quite a subordinateposition, as a mere supplement to the handsomer articles of the samekind, purchased in recent years,--a change which had caused anoccasional coolness in the sisterly intercourse between her and Mrs.Glegg, who felt that Susan was getting ”like the rest,” and therewould soon be little of the true Dodson spirit surviving except inherself, and, it might be hoped, in those nephews who supported theDodson name on the family land, far away in the Wolds.
People who live at a distance are naturally less faulty than thoseimmediately under our own eyes; and it seems superfluous, when weconsider the remote geographical position of the Ethiopians, and howvery little the Greeks had to do with them, to inquire further whyHomer calls them ”blameless.”
Mrs. Deane was the first to arrive; and when she had taken her seat inthe large parlor, Mrs. Tulliver came down to her with her comely facea little distorted, nearly as it would have been if she had beencrying. She was not a woman who could shed abundant tears, except inmoments when the prospect of losing her furniture became unusuallyvivid, but she felt how unfitting it was to be quite calm underpresent circumstances.
”Oh, sister, what a world this is!” she exclaimed as she entered;”what trouble, oh dear!”
Mrs. Deane was a thin-lipped woman, who made small well-consideredspeeches on peculiar occasions, repeating them afterward to herhusband, and asking him if she had not spoken very properly.
”Yes, sister,” she said deliberately, ”this is a changing world, andwe don't know to-day what may happen tomorrow. But it's right to beprepared for all things, and if trouble's sent, to remember as itisn't sent without a cause. I'm very sorry for you as a sister, and ifthe doctor orders jelly for Mr. Tulliver, I hope you'll let me know.I'll send it willingly; for it is but right he should have properattendance while he's ill.”
”Thank you, Susan,” said Mrs. Tulliver, rather faintly, withdrawingher fat hand from her sister's thin one. ”But there's been no talk o'jelly yet.” Then after a moment's pause she added, ”There's a dozen o'cut jelly-glasses upstairs--I shall never put jelly into 'em no more.”
Her voice was rather agitated as she uttered the last words, but thesound of wheels diverted her thoughts. Mr. and Mrs. Glegg were come,and were almost immediately followed by Mr. and Mrs. Pullet.
Mrs. Pullet entered crying, as a compendious mode, at all times, ofexpressing what were her views of life in general, and what, in brief,were the opinions she held concerning the particular case before her.
Mrs. Glegg had on her fuzziest front, and garments which appeared tohave had a recent resurrection from rather a creasy form of burial; acostume selected with the high moral purpose of instilling perfecthumility into Bessy and her children.
”Mrs. G., won't you come nearer the fire?” said her husband, unwillingto take the more comfortable seat without offering it to her.
”You see I've seated myself here, Mr. Glegg,” returned this superiorwoman; ”_you_ can roast yourself, if you like.”
”Well,” said Mr. Glegg, seating himself good-humoredly, ”and how's thepoor man upstairs?”
”Dr. Turnbull thought him a deal better this morning,” said Mrs.Tulliver; ”he took more notice, and spoke to me; but he's never knownTom yet,--looks at the poor lad as if he was a stranger, though hesaid something once about Tom and the pony. The doctor says hismemory's gone a long way back, and he doesn't know Tom because he'sthinking of him when he was little. Eh dear, eh dear!”
”I doubt it's the water got on his brain,” said aunt Pullet, turninground from adjusting her cap in a melancholy way at the pier-glass.”It's much if he ever gets up again; and if he does, he'll most likebe childish, as Mr. Carr was, poor man! They fed him with a spoon asif he'd been a babby for three year. He'd quite lost the use of hislimbs; but then he'd got a Bath chair, and somebody to draw him; andthat's what you won't have, I doubt, Bessy.”
”Sister Pullet,” said Mrs. Glegg, severely, ”if I understand right,we've come together this morning to advise and consult about what's tobe done in this disgrace as has fallen upon the family, and not totalk o' people as don't belong to us. Mr. Carr was none of our blood,nor noways connected with us, as I've ever heared.”
”Sister Glegg,” said Mrs. Pullet, in a pleading tone, drawing on hergloves again, and stroking the fingers in an agitated manner, ”ifyou've got anything disrespectful to say o' Mr. Carr, I do beg of youas you won't say it to me. _I_ know what he was,” she added, with asigh; ”his breath was short to that degree as you could hear him tworooms off.”
”Sophy!” said Mrs. Glegg, with indignant disgust, ”you _do_ talk o'people's complaints till it's quite undecent. But I say again, as Isaid before, I didn't come away from home to talk about acquaintances,whether they'd short breath or long. If we aren't come together forone to hear what the other 'ull do to save a sister and her childrenfrom the parish, _I_ shall go back. _One_ can't act without the other,I suppose; it isn't to be expected as _I_ should do everything.”
”Well, Jane,” said Mrs. Pullet, ”I don't see as you've been so veryforrard at doing. So far as I know, this is the first time as hereyou've been, since it's been known as the bailiff's in the house; andI was here yesterday, and looked at all Bessy's linen and things, andI told her I'd buy in the spotted tablecloths. I couldn't speakfairer; for as for the teapot as she doesn't want to go out o' thefamily, it stands to sense I can't do with two silver teapots, not ifit _hadn't_ a straight spout, but the spotted damask I was allays fondon.”
”I wish it could be managed so as my teapot and chany and the bestcastors needn't be put up for sale,” said poor Mrs. Tulliver,beseechingly, ”and the sugar-tongs the first things ever I bought.”
”But that can't be helped, you know,” said Mr. Glegg. ”If one o' thefamily chooses to buy 'em in, they can, but one thing must be bid foras well as another.”
”And it isn't to be looked for,” said uncle Pullet, with unwontedindependence of idea, ”as your own family should pay more for thingsnor they'll fetch. They may go for an old song by auction.”
”Oh dear, oh dear,” said Mrs. Tulliver, ”to think o' my chany beingsold i' that way, and I bought it when I was married, just as you didyours, Jane and Sophy; and I know you didn't like mine, because o' thesprig, but I was fond of it; and there's never been a bit broke, forI've washed it myself; and there's the tulips on the cups, and theroses, as anybody might go and look at 'em for pleasure. You wouldn'tlike _your_ chany to go for an old song and be broke to pieces, thoughyours has got no color in it, Jane,--it's all white and fluted, anddidn't cost so much as mine. And there's the castors, sister Deane, Ican't think but you'd like to have the castors, for I've heard you saythey're pretty.”
”Well, I've no objection to buy some of the best things,” said Mrs.Deane, rather loftily; ”we can do with extra things in our house.”
”Best things!” exclaimed Mrs. Glegg, with severity, which had gatheredintensity from her long silence. ”It drives me past patience to hearyou all talking o' best things, and buying in this, that, and theother, such as silver and chany. You must bring your mind to yourcircumstances, Bessy, and not be thinking o' silver and chany; butwhether you shall get so much as a flock-bed to lie on, and a blanketto cover you, and a stool to sit on. You must remember, if you get'em, it'll be because your friends have bought 'em for you, for you'redependent upon _them_ for everything; for your husband lies therehelpless, and hasn't got a penny i' the world to call his own. Andit's for your own good I say this, for it's right you should feel whatyour state is, and what disgrace your husband's brought on your ownfamily, as you've got to look to for everything, and be humble in yourmind.”
Mrs. Glegg paused, for speaking with much energy for the good ofothers is naturally exhausting.
Mrs. Tulliver, always borne down by the family predominance of sisterJane, who had made her wear the yoke of a younger sister in verytender years, said pleadingly:
”I'm sure, sister, I've never asked anybody to do anything, only buythings as it 'ud be a pleasure to 'em to have, so as they mightn't goand be spoiled i' strange houses. I never asked anybody to buy thethings in for me and my children; though there's the linen I spun, andI thought when Tom was born,--I thought one o' the first things whenhe was lying i' the cradle, as all the things I'd bought wi' my ownmoney, and been so careful of, 'ud go to him. But I've said nothing asI wanted my sisters to pay their money for me. What my husband hasdone for _his_ sister's unknown, and we should ha' been better offthis day if it hadn't been as he's lent money and never asked for itagain.”
”Come, come,” said Mr. Glegg, kindly, ”don't let us make things toodark. What's done can't be undone. We shall make a shift among us tobuy what's sufficient for you; though, as Mrs. G. says, they must beuseful, plain things. We mustn't be thinking o' what's unnecessary. Atable, and a chair or two, and kitchen things, and a good bed, andsuch-like. Why, I've seen the day when I shouldn't ha' known myself ifI'd lain on sacking i'stead o' the floor. We get a deal o' uselessthings about us, only because we've got the money to spend.”
”Mr. Glegg,” said Mrs. G., ”if you'll be kind enough to let me speak,i'stead o' taking the words out o' my mouth,--I was going to say,Bessy, as it's fine talking for you to say as you've never asked us tobuy anything for you; let me tell you, you _ought_ to have asked us.Pray, how are you to be purvided for, if your own family don't helpyou? You must go to the parish, if they didn't. And you ought to knowthat, and keep it in mind, and ask us humble to do what we can foryou, i'stead o' saying, and making a boast, as you've never asked usfor anything.”
”You talked o' the Mosses, and what Mr. Tulliver's done for 'em,” saiduncle Pullet, who became unusually suggestive where advances of moneywere concerned. ”Haven't _they_ been anear you? They ought to dosomething as well as other folks; and if he's lent 'em money, theyought to be made to pay it back.”
”Yes, to be sure,” said Mrs. Deane; ”I've been thinking so. How is itMr. and Mrs. Moss aren't here to meet us? It is but right they shoulddo their share.”
”Oh, dear!” said Mrs. Tulliver, ”I never sent 'em word about Mr.Tulliver, and they live so back'ard among the lanes at Basset, theyniver hear anything only when Mr. Moss comes to market. But I nivergave 'em a thought. I wonder Maggie didn't, though, for she was allaysso fond of her aunt Moss.”
”Why don't your children come in, Bessy?” said Mrs. Pullet, at themention of Maggie. ”They should hear what their aunts and uncles havegot to say; and Maggie,--when it's me as have paid for half herschooling, she ought to think more of her aunt Pullet than of auntMoss. I may go off sudden when I get home to-day; there's no telling.”
”If I'd had _my_ way,” said Mrs. Glegg, ”the children 'ud ha' been inthe room from the first. It's time they knew who they've to look to,and it's right as _somebody_ should talk to 'em, and let 'em knowtheir condition i' life, and what they're come down to, and make 'emfeel as they've got to suffer for their father's faults.”
”Well, I'll go and fetch 'em, sister,” said Mrs. Tulliver, resignedly.She was quite crushed now, and thought of the treasures in thestoreroom with no other feeling than blank despair.
She went upstairs to fetch Tom and Maggie, who were both in theirfather's room, and was on her way down again, when the sight of thestoreroom door suggested a new thought to her. She went toward it, andleft the children to go down by themselves.
The aunts and uncles appeared to have been in warm discussion when thebrother and sister entered,--both with shrinking reluctance; forthough Tom, with a practical sagacity which had been roused intoactivity by the strong stimulus of the new emotions he had undergonesince yesterday, had been turning over in his mind a plan which hemeant to propose to one of his aunts or uncles, he felt by no meansamicably toward them, and dreaded meeting them all at once as he wouldhave dreaded a large dose of concentrated physic, which was but justendurable in small draughts. As for Maggie, she was peculiarlydepressed this morning; she had been called up, after brief rest, atthree o'clock, and had that strange dreamy weariness which comes fromwatching in a sick-room through the chill hours of early twilight andbreaking day,--in which the outside day-light life seems to have noimportance, and to be a mere margin to the hours in the darkenedchamber. Their entrance interrupted the conversation. The shaking ofhands was a melancholy and silent ceremony, till uncle Pulletobserved, as Tom approached him:
”Well, young sir, we've been talking as we should want your pen andink; you can write rarely now, after all your schooling, I shouldthink.”
”Ay, ay,” said uncle Glegg, with admonition which he meant to be kind,”we must look to see the good of all this schooling, as your father'ssunk so much money in, now,--
'When land is gone and money's spent, Then learning is most excellent.'
Now's the time, Tom, to let us see the good o' your learning. Let ussee whether you can do better than I can, as have made my fortinwithout it. But I began wi' doing with little, you see; I could liveon a basin o' porridge and a crust o' bread-and-cheese. But I doubthigh living and high learning 'ull make it harder for you, young man,nor it was for me.”
”But he must do it,” interposed aunt Glegg, energetically, ”whetherit's hard or no. He hasn't got to consider what's hard; he mustconsider as he isn't to trusten to his friends to keep him in idlenessand luxury; he's got to bear the fruits of his father's misconduct,and bring his mind to fare hard and to work hard. And he must behumble and grateful to his aunts and uncles for what they're doing forhis mother and father, as must be turned out into the streets and goto the workhouse if they didn't help 'em. And his sister, too,”continued Mrs. Glegg, looking severely at Maggie, who had sat down onthe sofa by her aunt Deane, drawn to her by the sense that she wasLucy's mother, ”she must make up her mind to be humble and work; forthere'll be no servants to wait on her any more,--she must rememberthat. She must do the work o' the house, and she must respect and loveher aunts as have done so much for her, and saved their money to leaveto their nepheys and nieces.”
Tom was still standing before the table in the centre of the group.There was a heightened color in his face, and he was very far fromlooking humbled, but he was preparing to say, in a respectful tone,something he had previously meditated, when the door opened and hismother re-entered.
Poor Mrs. Tulliver had in her hands a small tray, on which she hadplaced her silver teapot, a specimen teacup and saucer, the castors,and sugar-tongs.
”See here, sister,” she said, looking at Mrs. Deane, as she set thetray on the table, ”I thought, perhaps, if you looked at the teapotagain,--it's a good while since you saw it,--you might like thepattern better; it makes beautiful tea, and there's a stand andeverything; you might use it for every day, or else lay it by for Lucywhen she goes to housekeeping. I should be so loath for 'em to buy itat the Golden Lion,” said the poor woman, her heart swelling, and thetears coming,--”my teapot as I bought when I was married, and to thinkof its being scratched, and set before the travellers and folks, andmy letters on it,--see here, E. D.,--and everybody to see 'em.”
”Ah, dear, dear!” said aunt Pullet, shaking her head with deepsadness, ”it's very bad,--to think o' the family initials going abouteverywhere--it niver was so before; you're a very unlucky sister,Bessy. But what's the use o' buying the teapot, when there's the linenand spoons and everything to go, and some of 'em with your fullname,--and when it's got that straight spout, too.”
”As to disgrace o' the family,” said Mrs. Glegg, ”that can't be helpedwi' buying teapots. The disgrace is, for one o' the family to ha'married a man as has brought her to beggary. The disgrace is, asthey're to be sold up. We can't hinder the country from knowing that.”
Maggie had started up from the sofa at the allusion to her father, butTom saw her action and flushed face in time to prevent her fromspeaking. ”Be quiet, Maggie,” he said authoritatively, pushing heraside. It was a remarkable manifestation of self-command and practicaljudgment in a lad of fifteen, that when his aunt Glegg ceased, hebegan to speak in a quiet and respectful manner, though with a gooddeal of trembling in his voice; for his mother's words had cut him tothe quick.
”Then, aunt,” he said, looking straight at Mrs. Glegg, ”if you thinkit's a disgrace to the family that we should be sold up, wouldn't itbe better to prevent it altogether? And if you and aunt Pullet,” hecontinued, looking at the latter, ”think of leaving any money to meand Maggie, wouldn't it be better to give it now, and pay the debtwe're going to be sold up for, and save my mother from parting withher furniture?”
There was silence for a few moments, for every one, including Maggie,was astonished at Tom's sudden manliness of tone. Uncle Glegg was thefirst to speak.
”Ay, ay, young man, come now! You show some notion o' things. Butthere's the interest, you must remember; your aunts get five per centon their money, and they'd lose that if they advanced it; you haven'tthought o' that.”
”I could work and pay that every year,” said Tom, promptly. ”I'd doanything to save my mother from parting with her things.”
”Well done!” said uncle Glegg, admiringly. He had been drawing Tomout, rather than reflecting on the practicability of his proposal. Buthe had produced the unfortunate result of irritating his wife.
”Yes, Mr. Glegg!” said that lady, with angry sarcasm. ”It's pleasantwork for you to be giving my money away, as you've pretended to leaveat my own disposal. And my money, as was my own father's gift, and notyours, Mr. Glegg; and I've saved it, and added to it myself, and hadmore to put out almost every year, and it's to go and be sunk in otherfolks' furniture, and encourage 'em in luxury and extravagance asthey've no means of supporting; and I'm to alter my will, or have acodicil made, and leave two or three hundred less behind me when Idie,--me as have allays done right and been careful, and the eldest o'the family; and my money's to go and be squandered on them as have hadthe same chance as me, only they've been wicked and wasteful. SisterPullet, _you_ may do as you like, and you may let your husband rob youback again o' the money he's given you, but that isn't _my_ sperrit.”
”La, Jane, how fiery you are!” said Mrs. Pullet. ”I'm sure you'll havethe blood in your head, and have to be cupped. I'm sorry for Bessy andher children,--I'm sure I think of 'em o' nights dreadful, for I sleepvery bad wi' this new medicine,--but it's no use for me to think o'doing anything, if you won't meet me half-way.”
”Why, there's this to be considered,” said Mr. Glegg. ”It's no use topay off this debt and save the furniture, when there's all the lawdebts behind, as 'ud take every shilling, and more than could be madeout o' land and stock, for I've made that out from Lawyer Gore. We'dneed save our money to keep the poor man with, instead o' spending iton furniture as he can neither eat nor drink. You _will_ be so hasty,Jane, as if I didn't know what was reasonable.”
”Then speak accordingly, Mr. Glegg!” said his wife, with slow, loudemphasis, bending her head toward him significantly.
Tom's countenance had fallen during this conversation, and his lipquivered; but he was determined not to give way. He would behave likea man. Maggie, on the contrary, after her momentary delight in Tom'sspeech, had relapsed into her state of trembling indignation. Hermother had been standing close by Tom's side, and had been clinging tohis arm ever since he had last spoken; Maggie suddenly started up andstood in front of them, her eyes flashing like the eyes of a younglioness.
”Why do you come, then,” she burst out, ”talking and interfering withus and scolding us, if you don't mean to do anything to help my poormother--your own sister,--if you've no feeling for her when she's introuble, and won't part with anything, though you would never miss it,to save her from pain? Keep away from us then, and don't come to findfault with my father,--he was better than any of you; he was kind,--hewould have helped _you_, if you had been in trouble. Tom and I don'tever want to have any of your money, if you won't help my mother. We'drather not have it! We'll do without you.”
Maggie, having hurled her defiance at aunts and uncles in this way,stood still, with her large dark eyes glaring at them, as if she wereready to await all consequences.
Mrs. Tulliver was frightened; there was something portentous in thismad outbreak; she did not see how life could go on after it. Tom wasvexed; it was no _use_ to talk so. The aunts were silent with surprisefor some moments. At length, in a case of aberration such as this,comment presented itself as more expedient than any answer.
”You haven't seen the end o' your trouble wi' that child, Bessy,” saidMrs. Pullet; ”she's beyond everything for boldness and unthankfulness.It's dreadful. I might ha' let alone paying for her schooling, forshe's worse nor ever.”
”It's no more than what I've allays said,” followed Mrs. Glegg. ”Otherfolks may be surprised, but I'm not. I've said over and overagain,--years ago I've said,--'Mark my words; that child 'ull come tono good; there isn't a bit of our family in her.' And as for herhaving so much schooling, I never thought well o' that. I'd my reasonswhen I said _I_ wouldn't pay anything toward it.”
”Come, come,” said Mr. Glegg, ”let's waste no more time intalking,--let's go to business. Tom, now, get the pen and ink----”
While Mr. Glegg was speaking, a tall dark figure was seen hurryingpast the window.
”Why, there's Mrs. Moss,” said Mrs. Tulliver. ”The bad news must ha'reached her, then”; and she went out to open the door, Maggie eagerlyfollowing her.
”That's fortunate,” said Mrs. Glegg. ”She can agree to the list o'things to be bought in. It's but right she should do her share whenit's her own brother.”
Mrs. Moss was in too much agitation to resist Mrs. Tulliver'smovement, as she drew her into the parlor automatically, withoutreflecting that it was hardly kind to take her among so many personsin the first painful moment of arrival. The tall, worn, dark-hairedwoman was a strong contrast to the Dodson sisters as she entered inher shabby dress, with her shawl and bonnet looking as if they hadbeen hastily huddled on, and with that entire absence ofself-consciousness which belongs to keenly felt trouble. Maggie wasclinging to her arm; and Mrs. Moss seemed to notice no one else exceptTom, whom she went straight up to and took by the hand.
”Oh, my dear children,” she burst out, ”you've no call to think wello' me; I'm a poor aunt to you, for I'm one o' them as take all andgive nothing. How's my poor brother?”
”Mr. Turnbull thinks he'll get better,” said Maggie. ”Sit down, auntGritty. Don't fret.”
”Oh, my sweet child, I feel torn i' two,” said Mrs. Moss, allowingMaggie to lead her to the sofa, but still not seeming to notice thepresence of the rest. ”We've three hundred pounds o' my brother'smoney, and now he wants it, and you all want it, poor things!--and yetwe must be sold up to pay it, and there's my poor children,--eight of'em, and the little un of all can't speak plain. And I feel as if Iwas a robber. But I'm sure I'd no thought as my brother----”
The poor woman was interrupted by a rising sob.
”Three hundred pounds! oh dear, dear,” said Mrs. Tulliver, who, whenshe had said that her husband had done ”unknown” things for hissister, had not had any particular sum in her mind, and felt a wife'sirritation at having been kept in the dark.
”What madness, to be sure!” said Mrs. Glegg. ”A man with a family!He'd no right to lend his money i' that way; and without security,I'll be bound, if the truth was known.”
Mrs. Glegg's voice had arrested Mrs. Moss's attention, and looking up,she said:
”Yes, there _was_ security; my husband gave a note for it. We're notthat sort o' people, neither of us, as 'ud rob my brother's children;and we looked to paying back the money, when the times got a bitbetter.”
”Well, but now,” said Mr. Glegg, gently, ”hasn't your husband no wayo' raising this money? Because it 'ud be a little fortin, like, forthese folks, if we can do without Tulliver's being made a bankrupt.Your husband's got stock; it is but right he should raise the money,as it seems to me,--not but what I'm sorry for you, Mrs. Moss.”
”Oh, sir, you don't know what bad luck my husband's had with hisstock. The farm's suffering so as never was for want o' stock; andwe've sold all the wheat, and we're behind with our rent,--not butwhat we'd like to do what's right, and I'd sit up and work half thenight, if it 'ud be any good; but there's them poor children,--four of'em such little uns----”
”Don't cry so, aunt; don't fret,” whispered Maggie, who had kept holdof Mrs. Moss's hand.
”Did Mr. Tulliver let you have the money all at once?” said Mrs.Tulliver, still lost in the conception of things which had been ”goingon” without her knowledge.
”No; at twice,” said Mrs. Moss, rubbing her eyes and making an effortto restrain her tears. ”The last was after my bad illness four yearsago, as everything went wrong, and there was a new note made then.What with illness and bad luck, I've been nothing but cumber all mylife.”
”Yes, Mrs. Moss,” said Mrs. Glegg, with decision, ”yours is a veryunlucky family; the more's the pity for _my_ sister.”
”I set off in the cart as soon as ever I heard o' what had happened,”said Mrs. Moss, looking at Mrs. Tulliver. ”I should never ha' stayedaway all this while, if you'd thought well to let me know. And itisn't as I'm thinking all about ourselves, and nothing about mybrother, only the money was so on my mind, I couldn't help speakingabout it. And my husband and me desire to do the right thing, sir,”she added, looking at Mr. Glegg, ”and we'll make shift and pay themoney, come what will, if that's all my brother's got to trust to.We've been used to trouble, and don't look for much else. It's onlythe thought o' my poor children pulls me i' two.”
”Why, there's this to be thought on, Mrs. Moss,” said Mr. Glegg, ”andit's right to warn you,--if Tulliver's made a bankrupt, and he's got anote-of-hand of your husband's for three hundred pounds, you'll beobliged to pay it; th' assignees 'ull come on you for it.”
”Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mrs. Tulliver, thinking of the bankruptcy,and not of Mrs. Moss's concern in it. Poor Mrs. Moss herself listenedin trembling submission, while Maggie looked with bewildered distressat Tom to see if _he_ showed any signs of understanding this trouble,and caring about poor aunt Moss. Tom was only looking thoughtful, withhis eyes on the tablecloth.
”And if he isn't made bankrupt,” continued Mr. Glegg, ”as I saidbefore, three hundred pounds 'ud be a little fortin for him, poor man.We don't know but what he may be partly helpless, if he ever gets upagain. I'm very sorry if it goes hard with you, Mrs. Moss, but myopinion is, looking at it one way, it'll be right for you to raise themoney; and looking at it th' other way, you'll be obliged to pay it.You won't think ill o' me for speaking the truth.”
”Uncle,” said Tom, looking up suddenly from his meditative view of thetablecloth, ”I don't think it would be right for my aunt Moss to paythe money if it would be against my father's will for her to pay it;would it?”
Mr. Glegg looked surprised for a moment or two before he said: ”Why,no, perhaps not, Tom; but then he'd ha' destroyed the note, you know.We must look for the note. What makes you think it 'ud be against hiswill?”
”Why,” said Tom, coloring, but trying to speak firmly, in spite of aboyish tremor, ”I remember quite well, before I went to school to Mr.Stelling, my father said to me one night, when we were sitting by thefire together, and no one else was in the room----”
Tom hesitated a little, and then went on.
”He said something to me about Maggie, and then he said: 'I've alwaysbeen good to my sister, though she married against my will, and I'velent Moss money; but I shall never think of distressing him to pay it;I'd rather lose it. My children must not mind being the poorer forthat.' And now my father's ill, and not able to speak for himself, Ishouldn't like anything to be done contrary to what he said to me.”
”Well, but then, my boy,” said Uncle Glegg, whose good feeling led himto enter into Tom's wish, but who could not at once shake off hishabitual abhorrence of such recklessness as destroying securities, oralienating anything important enough to make an appreciable differencein a man's property, ”we should have to make away wi' the note, youknow, if we're to guard against what may happen, supposing yourfather's made bankrupt----”
”Mr. Glegg,” interrupted his wife, severely, ”mind what you're saying.You're putting yourself very forrard in other folks's business. If youspeak rash, don't say it was my fault.”
”That's such a thing as I never heared of before,” said uncle Pullet,who had been making haste with his lozenge in order to express hisamazement,--”making away with a note! I should think anybody could setthe constable on you for it.”
”Well, but,” said Mrs. Tulliver, ”if the note's worth all that money,why can't we pay it away, and save my things from going away? We've nocall to meddle with your uncle and aunt Moss, Tom, if you think yourfather 'ud be angry when he gets well.”
Mrs. Tulliver had not studied the question of exchange, and wasstraining her mind after original ideas on the subject.
”Pooh, pooh, pooh! you women don't understand these things,” saiduncle Glegg. ”There's no way o' making it safe for Mr. and Mrs. Mossbut destroying the note.”
”Then I hope you'll help me do it, uncle,” said Tom, earnestly. ”If myfather shouldn't get well, I should be very unhappy to think anythinghad been done against his will that I could hinder. And I'm sure hemeant me to remember what he said that evening. I ought to obey myfather's wish about his property.”
Even Mrs. Glegg could not withhold her approval from Tom's words; shefelt that the Dodson blood was certainly speaking in him, though, ifhis father had been a Dodson, there would never have been this wickedalienation of money. Maggie would hardly have restrained herself fromleaping on Tom's neck, if her aunt Moss had not prevented her byherself rising and taking Tom's hand, while she said, with rather achoked voice:
”You'll never be the poorer for this, my dear boy, if there's a Godabove; and if the money's wanted for your father, Moss and me 'ull payit, the same as if there was ever such security. We'll do as we'd bedone by; for if my children have got no other luck, they've got anhonest father and mother.”
”Well,” said Mr. Glegg, who had been meditating after Tom's words, ”weshouldn't be doing any wrong by the creditors, supposing your father_was_ bankrupt. I've been thinking o' that, for I've been a creditormyself, and seen no end o' cheating. If he meant to give your aunt themoney before ever he got into this sad work o' lawing, it's the sameas if he'd made away with the note himself; for he'd made up his mindto be that much poorer. But there's a deal o' things to be considered,young man,” Mr. Glegg added, looking admonishingly at Tom, ”when youcome to money business, and you may be taking one man's dinner away tomake another man's breakfast. You don't understand that, I doubt?”
”Yes, I do,” said Tom, decidedly. ”I know if I owe money to one man,I've no right to give it to another. But if my father had made up hismind to give my aunt the money before he was in debt, he had a rightto do it.”
”Well done, young man! I didn't think you'd been so sharp,” said uncleGlegg, with much candor. ”But perhaps your father _did_ make away withthe note. Let us go and see if we can find it in the chest.”
”It's in my father's room. Let us go too, aunt Gritty,” whisperedMaggie.