she could not contemplate herself in it.
The next two days Lydgate observed a change in her, and believed that she had heard the bad news. Would she speak to him about it, or would she go on forever in the silence which seemed to imply that she believed him guilty? We must remember that he was in a morbid state of mind, in which almost all contact was pain. Certainly Rosamond in this case had equal reason to complain of reserve and want of confidence on his part; but in the bitterness of his soul he excused himself;--was he not justified in shrinking from the task of telling her, since now she knew the truth she had no impulse to speak to him?
But a deeper-lying consciousness that he was in fault made him restless, and the silence between them became intolerable to him;it was as if they were both adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other.
He thought, "I am a fool. Haven't I given up expecting anything?
I have married care, not help." And that evening he said--"Rosamond, have you heard anything that distresses you?""Yes," she answered, laying down her work, which she had been carrying on with a languid semi-consciousness, most unlike her usual self.
"What have you heard?"
"Everything, I suppose. Papa told me."
"That people think me disgraced?"
"Yes," said Rosamond, faintly, beginning to sew again automatically.
There was silence. Lydgate thought, "If she has any trust in me--any notion of what I am, she ought to speak now and say that she does not believe I have deserved disgrace."But Rosamond on her side went on moving her fingers languidly.
Whatever was to be said on the subject she expected to come from Tertius.
What did she know? And if he were innocent of any wrong, why did he not do something to clear himself?
This silence of hers brought a new rush of gall to that bitter mood in which Lydgate had been saying to himself that nobody believed in him--even Farebrother had not come forward. He had begun to question her with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog which had gathered between them, but he felt his resolution checked by despairing resentment. Even this trouble, like the rest, she seemed to regard as if it were hers alone.
He was always to her a being apart, doing what she objected to.
He started from his chair with an angry impulse, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, walked up and down the room. There was an underlying consciousness all the while that he should have to master this anger, and tell her everything, and convince her of the facts. For he had almost learned the lesson that he must bend himself to her nature, and that because she came short in her sympathy, he must give the more.
Soon he recurred to his intention of opening himself: the occasion must not be lost. If he could bring her to feel with some solemnity that here was a slander which must be met and not run away from, and that the whole trouble had come out of his desperate want of money, it would be a moment for urging powerfully on her that they should be one in the resolve to do with as little money as possible, so that they might weather the bad time and keep themselves independent.
He would mention the definite measures which he desired to take, and win her to a willing spirit. He was bound to try this--and what else was there for him to do?
He did not know how long he had been walking uneasily backwards and forwards, but Rosamond felt that it was long, and wished that he would sit down. She too had begun to think this an opportunity for urging on Tertius what he ought to do. Whatever might be the truth about all this misery, there was one dread which asserted itself.
Lydgate at last seated himself, not in his usual chair, but in one nearer to Rosamond, leaning aside in it towards her, and looking at her gravely before he reopened the sad subject.
He had conquered himself so far, and was about to speak with a sense of solemnity, as on an occasion which was not to be repeated.
He had even opened his lips, when Rosamond, letting her hands fall, looked at him and said--"Surely, Tertius--"
"Well?"
"Surely now at last you have given up the idea of staying in Middlemarch.
I cannot go on living here. Let us go to London. Papa, and every one else, says you had better go. Whatever misery I have to put up with, it will be easier away from here."Lydgate felt miserably jarred. Instead of that critical outpouring for which he had prepared himself with effort, here was the old round to be gone through again. He could not bear it. With a quick change of countenance he rose and went out of the room.
Perhaps if he had been strong enough to persist in his determination to be the more because she was less, that evening might have had a better issue. If his energy could have borne down that check, he might still have wrought on Rosamond's vision and will.
We cannot be sure that any natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will resist this effect from a more massive being than their own.
They may be taken by storm and for the moment converted, becoming part of the soul which enwraps them in the ardor of its movement.
But poor Lydgate had a throbbing pain within him, and his energy had fallen short of its task.
The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far off as ever; nay, it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort.
They lived on from day to day with their thoughts still apart, Lydgate going about what work he had in a mood of despair, and Rosamond feeling, with some justification, that he was behaving cruelly. It was of no use to say anything to Tertius;but when Will Ladislaw came, she was determined to tell him everything.
In spite of her general reticence, she needed some one who would recognize her wrongs.