Books: The Mill on the Floss

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"I'm very grateful to you for thinking of me all those years. It is
very sweet to have people love us. What a wonderful, beautiful thing
it seems that God should have made your heart so that you could care
about a queer little girl whom you only knew for a few weeks! I
remember saying to you that I thought you cared for me more than Tom
did."

"Ah, Maggie," said Philip, almost fretfully, "you would never love me
so well as you love your brother."

"Perhaps not," said Maggie, simply; "but then, you know, the first
thing I ever remember in my life is standing with Tom by the side of
the Floss, while he held my hand; everything before that is dark to
me. But I shall never forget you, though we must keep apart."

"Don't say so, Maggie," said Philip. "If I kept that little girl in my
mind for five years, didn't I earn some part in her? She ought not to
take herself quite away from me."

"Not if I were free," said Maggie; "but I am not, I must submit." She
hesitated a moment, and then added, "And I wanted to say to you, that
you had better not take more notice of my brother than just bowing to
him. He once told me not to speak to you again, and he doesn't change
his mind--Oh dear, the sun is set. I am too long away. Good-by." She
gave him her hand once more.

"I shall come here as often as I can till I see you again, Maggie.
Have some feeling for _me_ as well as for others."

"Yes, yes, I have," said Maggie, hurrying away, and quickly
disappearing behind the last fir-tree; though Philip's gaze after her
remained immovable for minutes as if he saw her still.

Maggie went home, with an inward conflict already begun; Philip went
home to do nothing but remember and hope. You can hardly help blaming
him severely. He was four or five years older than Maggie, and had a
full consciousness of his feeling toward her to aid him in foreseeing
the character his contemplated interviews with her would bear in the
opinion of a third person. But you must not suppose that he was
capable of a gross selfishness, or that he could have been satisfied
without persuading himself that he was seeking to infuse some
happiness into Maggie's life,--seeking this even more than any direct
ends for himself. He could give her sympathy; he could give her help.
There was not the slightest promise of love toward him in her manner;
it was nothing more than the sweet girlish tenderness she had shown
him when she was twelve. Perhaps she would never love him; perhaps no
woman ever _could_ love him. Well, then, he would endure that; he
should at least have the happiness of seeing her, of feeling some
nearness to her. And he clutched passionately the possibility that she
_might_ love him; perhaps the feeling would grow, if she could come to
associate him with that watchful tenderness which her nature would be
so keenly alive to. If any woman could love him, surely Maggie was
that woman; there was such wealth of love in her, and there was no one
to claim it all. Then, the pity of it, that a mind like hers should be
withering in its very youth, like a young forest-tree, for want of the
light and space it was formed to flourish in! Could he not hinder
that, by persuading her out of her system of privation? He would be
her guardian angel; he would do anything, bear anything, for her
sake--except not seeing her.

Chapter II

Aunt Glegg Learns the Breadth of Bob's Thumb

While Maggie's life-struggles had lain almost entirely within her own
soul, one shadowy army fighting another, and the slain shadows forever
rising again, Tom was engaged in a dustier, noisier warfare, grappling
with more substantial obstacles, and gaining more definite conquests.
So it has been since the days of Hecuba, and of Hector, Tamer of
horses; inside the gates, the women with streaming hair and uplifted
hands offering prayers, watching the world's combat from afar, filling
their long, empty days with memories and fears; outside, the men, in
fierce struggle with things divine and human, quenching memory in the
stronger light of purpose, losing the sense of dread and even of
wounds in the hurrying ardor of action.

From what you have seen of Tom, I think he is not a youth of whom you
would prophesy failure in anything he had thoroughly wished; the
wagers are likely to be on his side, notwithstanding his small success
in the classics. For Tom had never desired success in this field of
enterprise; and for getting a fine flourishing growth of stupidity
there is nothing like pouring out on a mind a good amount of subjects
in which it feels no interest. But now Tom's strong will bound
together his integrity, his pride, his family regrets, and his
personal ambition, and made them one force, concentrating his efforts
and surmounting discouragements. His uncle Deane, who watched him
closely, soon began to conceive hopes of him, and to be rather proud
that he had brought into the employment of the firm a nephew who
appeared to be made of such good commercial stuff. The real kindness
of placing him in the warehouse first was soon evident to Tom, in the
hints his uncle began to throw out, that after a time he might perhaps
be trusted to travel at certain seasons, and buy in for the firm
various vulgar commodities with which I need not shock refined ears in
this place; and it was doubtless with a view to this result that Mr.
Deane, when he expected to take his wine alone, would tell Tom to step
in and sit with him an hour, and would pass that hour in much
lecturing and catechising concerning articles of export and import,
with an occasional excursus of more indirect utility on the relative
advantages to the merchants of St. Ogg's of having goods brought in
their own and in foreign bottoms,--a subject on which Mr. Deane, as a
ship-owner, naturally threw off a few sparks when he got warmed with
talk and wine.

Already, in the second year, Tom's salary was raised; but all, except
the price of his dinner and clothes, went home into the tin box; and
he shunned comradeship, lest it should lead him into expenses in spite
of himself. Not that Tom was moulded on the spoony type of the
Industrious Apprentice; he had a very strong appetite for
pleasure,--would have liked to be a Tamer of horses and to make a
distinguished figure in all neighboring eyes, dispensing treats and
benefits to others with well-judged liberality, and being pronounced
one of the finest young fellows of those parts; nay, he determined to
achieve these things sooner or later; but his practical shrewdness
told him that the means no such achievements could only lie for him in
present abstinence and self-denial; there were certain milestones to
be passed, and one of the first was the payment of his father's debts.
Having made up his mind on that point, he strode along without
swerving, contracting some rather saturnine sternness, as a young man
is likely to do who has a premature call upon him for self-reliance.
Tom felt intensely that common cause with his father which springs
from family pride, and was bent on being irreproachable as a son; but
his growing experience caused him to pass much silent criticism on the
rashness and imprudence of his father's past conduct; their
dispositions were not in sympathy, and Tom's face showed little
radiance during his few home hours. Maggie had an awe of him, against
which she struggled as something unfair to her consciousness of wider
thoughts and deeper motives; but it was of no use to struggle. A
character at unity with itself--that performs what it intends, subdues
every counteracting impulse, and has no visions beyond the distinctly
possible--is strong by its very negations.

You may imagine that Tom's more and more obvious unlikeness to his
father was well fitted to conciliate the maternal aunts and uncles;
and Mr. Deane's favorable reports and predictions to Mr. Glegg
concerning Tom's qualifications for business began to be discussed
amongst them with various acceptance. He was likely, it appeared, to
do the family credit without causing it any expense and trouble. Mrs.
Pullet had always thought it strange if Tom's excellent complexion, so
entirely that of the Dodsons, did not argue a certainty that he would
turn out well; his juvenile errors of running down the peacock, and
general disrespect to his aunts, only indicating a tinge of Tulliver
blood which he had doubtless outgrown. Mr. Glegg, who had contracted a
cautious liking for Tom ever since his spirited and sensible behavior
when the execution was in the house, was now warming into a resolution
to further his prospects actively,--some time, when an opportunity
offered of doing so in a prudent manner, without ultimate loss; but
Mrs. Glegg observed that she was not given to speak without book, as
some people were; that those who said least were most likely to find
their words made good; and that when the right moment came, it would
be seen who could do something better than talk. Uncle Pullet, after
silent meditation for a period of several lozenges, came distinctly to
the conclusion, that when a young man was likely to do well, it was
better not to meddle with him.

Tom, meanwhile, had shown no disposition to rely on any one but
himself, though, with a natural sensitiveness toward all indications
of favorable opinion, he was glad to see his uncle Glegg look in on
him sometimes in a friendly way during business hours, and glad to be
invited to dine at his house, though he usually preferred declining on
the ground that he was not sure of being punctual. But about a year
ago, something had occurred which induced Tom to test his uncle
Glegg's friendly disposition.

Bob Jakin, who rarely returned from one of his rounds without seeing
Tom and Maggie, awaited him on the bridge as he was coming home from
St. Ogg's one evening, that they might have a little private talk. He
took the liberty of asking if Mr. Tom had ever thought of making money
by trading a bit on his own account. Trading, how? Tom wished to know.
Why, by sending out a bit of a cargo to foreign ports; because Bob had
a particular friend who had offered to do a little business for him in
that way in Laceham goods, and would be glad to serve Mr. Tom on the
same footing. Tom was interested at once, and begged for full
explanation, wondering he had not thought of this plan before.

He was so well pleased with the prospect of a speculation that might
change the slow process of addition into multiplication, that he at
once determined to mention the matter to his father, and get his
consent to appropriate some of the savings in the tin box to the
purchase of a small cargo. He would rather not have consulted his
father, but he had just paid his last quarter's money into the tin
box, and there was no other resource. All the savings were there; for
Mr. Tulliver would not consent to put the money out at interest lest
he should lose it. Since he had speculated in the purchase of some
corn, and had lost by it, he could not be easy without keeping the
money under his eye.

Tom approached the subject carefully, as he was seated on the hearth
with his father that evening, and Mr. Tulliver listened, leaning
forward in his arm-chair and looking up in Tom's face with a sceptical
glance. His first impulse was to give a positive refusal, but he was
in some awe of Tom's wishes, and since he had the sense of being an
"unlucky" father, he had lost some of his old peremptoriness and
determination to be master. He took the key of the bureau from his
pocket, got out the key of the large chest, and fetched down the tin
box,--slowly, as if he were trying to defer the moment of a painful
parting. Then he seated himself against the table, and opened the box
with that little padlock-key which he fingered in his waistcoat pocket
in all vacant moments. There they were, the dingy bank-notes and the
bright sovereigns, and he counted them out on the table--only a
hundred and sixteen pounds in two years, after all the pinching.

"How much do you want, then?" he said, speaking as if the words burnt
his lips.

"Suppose I begin with the thirty-six pounds, father?" said Tom.

Mr. Tulliver separated this sum from the rest, and keeping his hand
over it, said:

"It's as much as I can save out o' my pay in a year."

"Yes, father; it is such slow work, saving out of the little money we
get. And in this way we might double our savings."

"Ay, my lad," said the father, keeping his hand on the money, "but you
might lose it,--you might lose a year o' my life,--and I haven't got
many."

Tom was silent.

"And you know I wouldn't pay a dividend with the first hundred,
because I wanted to see it all in a lump,--and when I see it, I'm sure
on't. If you trust to luck, it's sure to be against me. It's Old
Harry's got the luck in his hands; and if I lose one year, I shall
never pick it up again; death 'ull o'ertake me."

Mr. Tulliver's voice trembled, and Tom was silent for a few minutes
before he said:

"I'll give it up, father, since you object to it so strongly."

But, unwilling to abandon the scheme altogether, he determined to ask
his uncle Glegg to venture twenty pounds, on condition of receiving
five per cent. of the profits. That was really a very small thing to
ask. So when Bob called the next day at the wharf to know the
decision, Tom proposed that they should go together to his uncle
Glegg's to open the business; for his diffident pride clung to him,
and made him feel that Bobs' tongue would relieve him from some
embarrassment.

Mr. Glegg, at the pleasant hour of four in the afternoon of a hot
August day, was naturally counting his wall-fruit to assure himself
that the sum total had not varied since yesterday. To him entered Tom,
in what appeared to Mr. Glegg very questionable companionship,--that
of a man with a pack on his back,--for Bob was equipped for a new
journey,--and of a huge brindled bull-terrier, who walked with a slow,
swaying movement from side to side, and glanced from under his
eye-lids with a surly indifference which might after all be a cover to
the most offensive designs.

Mr. Glegg's spectacles, which had been assisting him in counting the
fruit, made these suspicious details alarmingly evident to him.

"Heigh! heigh! keep that dog back, will you?" he shouted, snatching up
a stake and holding it before him as a shield when the visitors were
within three yards of him.

"Get out wi' you, Mumps," said Bob, with a kick. "He's as quiet as a
lamb, sir,"--an observation which Mumps corroborated by a low growl as
he retreated behind his master's legs.

"Why, what ever does this mean, Tom?" said Mr. Glegg. "Have you
brought information about the scoundrels as cut my trees?" If Bob came
in the character of "information," Mr. Glegg saw reasons for
tolerating some irregularity.

"No, sir," said Tom; "I came to speak to you about a little matter of
business of my own."

"Ay--well; but what has this dog got to do with it?" said the old
gentleman, getting mild again.

"It's my dog, sir," said the ready Bob. "An' it's me as put Mr. Tom up
to the bit o' business; for Mr. Tom's been a friend o' mine iver since
I was a little chap; fust thing iver I did was frightenin' the birds
for th' old master. An' if a bit o' luck turns up, I'm allays thinkin'
if I can let Mr. Tom have a pull at it. An' it's a downright roarin'
shame, as when he's got the chance o' making a bit o' money wi'
sending goods out,--ten or twelve per zent clear, when freight an'
commission's paid,--as he shouldn't lay hold o' the chance for want o'
money. An' when there's the Laceham goods,--lors! they're made o'
purpose for folks as want to send out a little carguy; light, an' take
up no room,--you may pack twenty pound so as you can't see the
passill; an' they're manifacturs as please fools, so I reckon they
aren't like to want a market. An' I'd go to Laceham an' buy in the
goods for Mr. Tom along wi' my own. An' there's the shupercargo o' the
bit of a vessel as is goin' to take 'em out. I know him partic'lar;
he's a solid man, an' got a family i' the town here. Salt, his name
is,--an' a briny chap he is too,--an' if you don't believe me, I can
take you to him."

Uncle Glegg stood open-mouthed with astonishment at this unembarrassed
loquacity, with which his understanding could hardly keep pace. He
looked at Bob, first over his spectacles, then through them, then over
them again; while Tom, doubtful of his uncle's impression, began to
wish he had not brought this singular Aaron, or mouthpiece. Bob's talk
appeared less seemly, now some one besides himself was listening to
it.

"You seem to be a knowing fellow," said Mr. Glegg, at last.

"Ay, sir, you say true," returned Bob, nodding his head aside; "I
think my head's all alive inside like an old cheese, for I'm so full
o' plans, one knocks another over. If I hadn't Mumps to talk to, I
should get top-heavy an' tumble in a fit. I suppose it's because I
niver went to school much. That's what I jaw my old mother for. I
says, 'You should ha' sent me to school a bit more,' I says, 'an' then
I could ha' read i' the books like fun, an' kep' my head cool an'
empty.' Lors, she's fine an' comfor'ble now, my old mother is; she
ates her baked meat an' taters as often as she likes. For I'm gettin'
so full o' money, I must hev a wife to spend it for me. But it's
botherin,' a wife is,--and Mumps mightn't like her."

Uncle Glegg, who regarded himself as a jocose man since he had retired
from business, was beginning to find Bob amusing, but he had still a
disapproving observation to make, which kept his face serious.

"Ah," he said, "I should think you're at a loss for ways o' spending
your money, else you wouldn't keep that big dog, to eat as much as two
Christians. It's shameful--shameful!" But he spoke more in sorrow than
in anger, and quickly added:

"But, come now, let's hear more about this business, Tom. I suppose
you want a little sum to make a venture with. But where's all your own
money? You don't spend it all--eh?"

"No, sir," said Tom, coloring; "but my father is unwilling to risk it,
and I don't like to press him. If I could get twenty or thirty pounds
to begin with, I could pay five per cent for it, and then I could
gradually make a little capital of my own, and do without a loan."

"Ay--ay," said Mr. Glegg, in an approving tone; "that's not a bad
notion, and I won't say as I wouldn't be your man. But it 'ull be as
well for me to see this Salt, as you talk on. And then--here's this
friend o' yours offers to buy the goods for you. Perhaps you've got
somebody to stand surety for you if the money's put into your hands?"
added the cautious old gentleman, looking over his spectacles at Bob.

"I don't think that's necessary, uncle," said Tom. "At least, I mean
it would not be necessary for me, because I know Bob well; but perhaps
it would be right for you to have some security."

"You get your percentage out o' the purchase, I suppose?" said Mr.
Glegg, looking at Bob.

"No, sir," said Bob, rather indignantly; "I didn't offer to get a
apple for Mr. Tom, o' purpose to hev a bite out of it myself. When I
play folks tricks, there'll be more fun in 'em nor that."

"Well, but it's nothing but right you should have a small percentage,"
said Mr. Glegg. "I've no opinion o' transactions where folks do things
for nothing. It allays looks bad."

"Well, then," said Bob, whose keenness saw at once what was implied,
"I'll tell you what I get by't, an' it's money in my pocket in the
end,--I make myself look big, wi' makin' a bigger purchase. That's
what I'm thinking on. Lors! I'm a 'cute chap,--I am."

"Mr. Glegg, Mr. Glegg!" said a severe voice from the open parlor
window, "pray are you coming in to tea, or are you going to stand
talking with packmen till you get murdered in the open daylight?"

"Murdered?" said Mr. Glegg; "what's the woman talking of? Here's your
nephey Tom come about a bit o' business."

"Murdered,--yes,--it isn't many 'sizes ago since a packman murdered a
young woman in a lone place, and stole her thimble, and threw her body
into a ditch."

"Nay, nay," said Mr. Glegg, soothingly, "you're thinking o' the man
wi' no legs, as drove a dog-cart."

"Well, it's the same thing, Mr. Glegg, only you're fond o'
contradicting what I say; and if my nephey's come about business, it
'ud be more fitting if you'd bring him into the house, and let his
aunt know about it, instead o' whispering in corners, in that
plotting, underminding way."

"Well, well," said Mr. Glegg, "we'll come in now."

"You needn't stay here," said the lady to Bob, in a loud voice,
adapted to the moral, not the physical, distance between them. "We
don't want anything. I don't deal wi' packmen. Mind you shut the gate
after you."

"Stop a bit; not so fast," said Mr. Glegg; "I haven't done with this
young man yet. Come in, Tom; come in," he added, stepping in at the
French window.

"Mr. Glegg," said Mrs. G., in a fatal tone, "if you're going to let
that man and his dog in on my carpet, before my very face, be so good
as to let me know. A wife's got a right to ask that, I hope."

"Don't you be uneasy, mum," said Bob, touching his cap. He saw at once
that Mrs. Glegg was a bit of game worth running down, and longed to be
at the sport; "we'll stay out upo' the gravel here,--Mumps and me
will. Mumps knows his company,--he does. I might hish at him by th'
hour together, before he'd fly at a real gentlewoman like you. It's
wonderful how he knows which is the good-looking ladies; and's
partic'lar fond of 'em when they've good shapes. Lors!" added Bob,
laying down his pack on the gravel, "it's a thousand pities such a
lady as you shouldn't deal with a packman, i' stead o' goin' into
these newfangled shops, where there's half-a-dozen fine gents wi'
their chins propped up wi' a stiff stock, a-looking like bottles wi'
ornamental stoppers, an' all got to get their dinner out of a bit o'
calico; it stan's to reason you must pay three times the price you pay
a packman, as is the nat'ral way o' gettin' goods,--an' pays no rent,
an' isn't forced to throttle himself till the lies are squeezed out on
him, whether he will or no. But lors! mum, you know what it is better
nor I do,--_you_ can see through them shopmen, I'll be bound."

"Yes, I reckon I can, and through the packmen too," observed Mrs.
Glegg, intending to imply that Bob's flattery had produced no effect
on _her;_ while her husband, standing behind her with his hands in his
pockets and legs apart, winked and smiled with conjugal delight at the
probability of his wife's being circumvented.

"Ay, to be sure, mum," said Bob. "Why, you must ha' dealt wi' no end
o' packmen when you war a young lass--before the master here had the
luck to set eyes on you. I know where you lived, I do,--seen th' house
many a time,--close upon Squire Darleigh's,--a stone house wi'
steps----"

"Ah, that it had," said Mrs. Glegg, pouring out the tea. "You know
something o' my family, then? Are you akin to that packman with a
squint in his eye, as used to bring th' Irish linen?"

"Look you there now!" said Bob, evasively. "Didn't I know as you'd
remember the best bargains you've made in your life was made wi'
packmen? Why, you see even a squintin' packman's better nor a shopman
as can see straight. Lors! if I'd had the luck to call at the stone
house wi' my pack, as lies here,"--stooping and thumping the bundle
emphatically with his fist,--"an' th' handsome young lasses all
stannin' out on the stone steps, it ud' ha' been summat like openin' a
pack, that would. It's on'y the poor houses now as a packman calls on,
if it isn't for the sake o' the sarvant-maids. They're paltry times,
these are. Why, mum, look at the printed cottons now, an' what they
was when you wore 'em,--why, you wouldn't put such a thing on now, I
can see. It must be first-rate quality, the manifactur as you'd
buy,--summat as 'ud wear as well as your own faitures."

"Yes, better quality nor any you're like to carry; you've got nothing
first-rate but brazenness, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Glegg, with a
triumphant sense of her insurmountable sagacity. "Mr. Glegg, are you
going ever to sit down to your tea? Tom, there's a cup for you."

"You speak true there, mum," said Bob. "My pack isn't for ladies like
you. The time's gone by for that. Bargains picked up dirt cheap! A bit
o' damage here an' there, as can be cut out, or else niver seen i' the
wearin', but not fit to offer to rich folks as can pay for the look o'
things as nobody sees. I'm not the man as 'ud offer t' open my pack to
_you_, mum; no, no; I'm a imperent chap, as you say,--these times
makes folks imperent,--but I'm not up to the mark o' that."

"Why, what goods do you carry in your pack?" said Mrs. Glegg.
"Fine-colored things, I suppose,--shawls an' that?"

"All sorts, mum, all sorts," said Bob,--thumping his bundle; "but let
us say no more about that, if _you_ please. I'm here upo' Mr. Tom's
business, an' I'm not the man to take up the time wi' my own."

"And pray, what _is_ this business as is to be kept from me?" said
Mrs. Glegg, who, solicited by a double curiosity, was obliged to let
the one-half wait.