The down we rest on in our aëry dreams
Has not been plucked from birds that live and smart;
'Tis but warm snow, that melts not.
The story and the prospect revealed to Esther by the lawyer's letter,
which she and her father studied together, had made an impression on her
very different from what she had been used to figure to herself in her
many day-dreams as to the effect of a sudden elevation in rank and
fortune. In her day-dreams she had not traced out the means by which
such a change could be brought about; in fact, the change had seemed
impossible to her, except in her little private Utopia, which, like
other Utopias, was filled with delightful results, independent of
processes. But her mind had fixed itself habitually on the signs and
luxuries of ladyhood, for which she had the keenest perception. She had
seen the very mat in her carriage, had scented the dried rose-leaves in
her corridors, had felt the soft carpet under her pretty feet, and seen
herself, as she rose from her sofa cushions, in the crystal panel that
reflected a long drawing-room, where the conservatory flowers and the
pictures of fair women left her still with the supremacy of charm. She
had trodden the marble-firm gravel of her garden-walks and the soft deep
turf of her lawn; she had had her servants about her filled with adoring
respect, because of her kindness as well as her grace and beauty; but
she had had several accomplished cavaliers all at once sueing for her
hand--one of whom, uniting very high birth with long dark eyelashes and
the most distinguished talents, she secretly preferred, though his pride
and hers hindered an avowal, and supplied the inestimable interest of
retardation. The glimpses she had had in her brief life as a family
governess, supplied her ready faculty with details enough of delightful
still life to furnish her day-dreams; and no one who has not, like
Esther, a strong natural prompting and susceptibility toward such
things, and has at the same time suffered from the presence of opposite
conditions, can understand how powerfully those minor accidents of rank
which please the fastidious sense can preoccupy the imagination.
It seemed that almost everything in her day-dreams--cavaliers
apart--must be found at Transome Court. But now that fancy was becoming
real, and the impossible appeared possible, Esther found the balance of
her attention reversed: now that her ladyhood was not simply in Utopia,
she found herself arrested and painfully grasped by the means through
which the ladyhood was to be obtained. To her inexperience this strange
story of an alienated inheritance, of such a last representative of
pure-blooded lineage as old Thomas Transome the bill-sticker, above all
of the dispossession hanging over those who actually held, and had
expected always to hold, the wealth and position which were suddenly
announced to be rightly hers--all these things made a picture, not for
her own tastes and fancies to float in with Elysian indulgence, but in
which she was compelled to gaze on the degrading hard experience of
other human beings, and on a humiliating loss which was the obverse of
her own proud gain. Even in her times of most untroubled egoism, Esther
shrank from anything ungenerous; and the fact that she had a very lively
image of Harold Transome and his gypsy-eyed boy in her mind, gave
additional distinctness to the thought that if she entered they must
depart. Of the elder Transomes she had a dimmer vision, and they were
necessarily in the background to her sympathy.
She and her father sat with their hands locked, as they might have done
if they had been listening to a solemn oracle in the days of old
revealing unknown kinship and rightful heirdom. It was not that Esther
had any thought of renouncing her fortune; she was incapable, in these
moments, of condensing her vague ideas and feelings into any distinct
plan of action, nor indeed did it seem that she was called upon to act
with any promptitude. It was only that she was conscious of being
strangely awed by something that was called good fortune; and the awe
shut out any scheme of rejection as much as any triumphant joy in
acceptance. Her father, she learned, had died disappointed and in
wrongful imprisonment, and an undefined sense of Nemesis seemed half to
sanctify her inheritance, and counteract its apparent arbitrariness.
Felix Holt was present in her mind throughout; what he would say was an
imaginary commentary that she was constantly framing, and the words that
she most frequently gave him--for she dramatized under the inspiration
of a sadness slightly bitter--were of this kind: "That is clearly your
destiny--to be aristocratic, to be rich. I always saw that our lots lay
widely apart. You are not fit for poverty, or any work of difficulty.
But remember what I once said to you about a vision of consequences;
take care where your fortune leads you."
Her father had not spoken since they had ended their study and
discussion of the story and the evidence as it was presented to them.
Into this he had entered with his usual penetrating activity; but he was
so accustomed to the impersonal study of narrative, that even in these
exceptional moments the habit of half a century asserted itself, and he
seemed sometimes not to distinguish the case of Esther's inheritance
from a story in ancient history, until some detail recalled him to the
profound feeling that a great, great change might be coming over the
life of this child who was so close to him. At last he relapsed into
total silence, and for some time Esther was not moved to interrupt it.
He had sunk back in his chair with his hand locked in hers, and was
pursuing a sort of prayerful meditation: he lifted up no formal
petition, but it was as if his soul travelled again over the facts he
had been considering in the company of a guide ready to inspire and
correct him. He was striving to purify his feeling in this matter from
selfish or worldly dross--a striving which is that prayer without
ceasing, sure to wrest an answer by its sublime importunity.
There is no knowing how long they might have sat in this way, if it had
not been for the inevitable Lyddy reminding them dismally of dinner.
"Yes, Lyddy, we come," said Esther: and then, before moving--
"Is there any advice you have in your mind for me, father?" The sense of
awe was growing in Esther. Her intensest life was no longer in her
dreams, where she made things to her own mind: she was moving in a world
charged with forces.
"Not yet, my dear--save this; that you will seek special illumination in
this juncture, and, above all, be watchful that your soul be not lifted
up within you by what, rightly considered, is rather an increase of
charge, and a call upon you to walk along a path which is indeed easy to
the flesh, but dangerous to the spirit."
"You would always live with me, father?" Esther said, under a strong
impulse--partly affection, partly the need to grasp at some moral help.
But she had no sooner uttered the words than they raised a vision,
showing, as by a flash of lightning, the incongruity of that past which
had created the sanctities and affections of her life with that future
which was coming to her----The little rusty old minister, with the one
luxury of his Sunday evening pipe, smoked up the kitchen chimney, coming
to live in the midst of grandeur----but no! her father, with the
grandeur of his past sorrow and his long struggling labors, forsaking
his vocation, and vulgarly accepting an existence unsuited to
him.----Esther's face flushed with the excitement of this vision and its
reversed interpretation, which five months ago she would have been
incapable of seeing. Her question to her father seemed like a mockery;
she was ashamed. He answered slowly--
"Touch not that chord yet, my child. I must learn to think of thy lot
according to the demands of Providence. We will rest a while from the
subject; and I will seek calmness in my ordinary duties."
The next morning nothing more was said. Mr. Lyon was absorbed in his
sermon-making, for it was near the end of the week, and Esther was
obliged to attend to her pupils. Mrs. Holt came by invitation with
little Job to share their dinner of roast-meat; and, after much of what
the minister called unprofitable discourse, she was quitting the house
when she hastened back with an astonished face, to tell Mr. Lyon and
Esther, who were already in wonder at crashing, thundering sounds on the
pavement, that there was a carriage stopping and stamping at the entry
into Malthouse Yard, with "all sorts of fine liveries," and a lady and
gentleman inside. Mr. Lyon and Esther looked at each other, both having
the same name in their minds.
"If it's Mr. Transome or somebody else as is great, Mr. Lyon," urged
Mrs. Holt, "you'll remember my son, and say he's got a mother with a
character they may enquire into as much as they like. And never mind
what Felix says, for he's so masterful he'd stay in prison and be
transported whether or no, only to have his own way. For it's not to be
thought but what the great people could get him off if they would; and
it's very hard with a King in the country and all the texts in Proverbs
about the King's countenance, and Solomon and the live baby----"
Mr. Lyon lifted up his hand deprecatingly, and Mrs. Holt retreated from
the parlor-door to a corner of the kitchen, the outer doorway being
occupied by Dominic, who was enquiring if Mr. and Miss Lyon were at
home, and could receive Mrs. Transome and Mr. Harold Transome. While
Dominic went back to the carriage Mrs. Holt escaped with her tiny
companion to Zachary's, the new pew-opener, observing to Lyddy that she
knew herself, and was not that woman to stay where she might not be
wanted; whereupon Lyddy, differing fundamentally, admonished her parting
ear that it was well if she knew herself to be dust and ashes--silently
extending the application of this remark to Mrs. Transome, as she saw
the tall lady sweep in arrayed in her rich black and fur, with that fine
gentleman behind her whose thick top-knot of wavy hair, sparkling ring,
dark complexion, and general air of worldly exaltation unconnected with
chapel, were painfully suggestive to Lyddy of Herod, Pontius Pilate, or
the much-quoted Gallio.
Harold Transome, greeting Esther gracefully, presented his mother, whose
eagle-like glance, fixed on her from the first moment of entering,
seemed to Esther to pierce her through. Mrs. Transome hardly noticed Mr.
Lyon, not from studied haughtiness, but from sheer mental inability to
consider him--as a person ignorant of natural history is unable to
consider a fresh-water polyp otherwise than as a sort of animated weed,
certainly not fit for table. But Harold saw that his mother was
agreeably struck by Esther, who indeed showed to much advantage. She was
not at all taken by surprise, and maintained a dignified quietude; but
her previous knowledge and reflection about the possible dispossession
of these Transomes gave her a softened feeling toward them which tinged
her manners very agreeably.
Harold was carefully polite to the minister, throwing out a word to make
him understand that he had an important part in the important business
which had brought this unannounced visit; and the four made a group
seated not far off each other near the window, Mrs. Transome and Esther
being on the sofa.
"You must be astonished at a visit from me, Miss Lyon," Mrs. Transome
began; "I seldom come to Treby Magna. Now I see you, the visit is an
unexpected pleasure; but the cause of my coming is business of a serious
nature, which my son will communicate to you."
"I ought to begin by saying that what I have to announce to you is the
reverse of disagreeable, Miss Lyon," said Harold, with lively ease. "I
don't suppose the world would consider it very good news for me; but a
rejected candidate, Mr. Lyon," Harold went on, turning graciously to the
minister, "begins to be inured to loss and misfortune."
"Truly, sir," said Mr. Lyon, with a rather sad solemnity, "your allusion
hath a grievous bearing for me, but I will not retard your present
purpose by further remark."
"You will never guess what I have to disclose," said Harold, again
looking at Esther, "unless, indeed, you have already had some previous
intimation of it."
"Does it refer to law and inheritance?" said Esther, with a smile. She
was already brightened by Harold's manner. The news seemed to be losing
its chillness, and to be something really belonging to warm,
comfortable, interesting life.
"Then you have already heard of it?" said Harold, inwardly vexed, but
sufficiently prepared not to seem so.
"Only yesterday," said Esther, quite simply, "I received a letter from
some lawyers with a statement of many surprising things, showing that I
was an heiress"--here she turned very prettily to address Mrs.
Transome--"which, as you may imagine, is one of the last things I could
have supposed myself to be."
"My dear," said Mrs. Transome with elderly grace, just laying her hand
for an instant on Esther's, "it is a lot that would become you
admirably."
Esther blushed, and said playfully:
"Oh, I know what to buy with fifty pounds a-year, but I know the price
of nothing beyond that."
Her father sat looking at her through his spectacles, stroking his chin.
It was amazing to herself that she was taking so lightly now what had
caused her such deep emotion yesterday.
"I daresay, then," said Harold, "you are more fully possessed of
particulars than I am. So that my mother and I need only tell you what
no one else can tell you--that is, what are her and my feelings and
wishes under these new and unexpected circumstances."
"I am most anxious," said Esther, with a grave beautiful look of respect
to Mrs. Transome--"most anxious on that point. Indeed, being of course
in uncertainty about it, I have not yet known whether I could rejoice."
Mrs. Transome's glance had softened. She liked Esther to look at her.
"Our chief anxiety," she said, knowing what Harold wished her to say,
"is, that there may be no contest, no useless expenditure of money. Of
course we will surrender what can be rightfully claimed."
"My mother expresses our feeling precisely, Miss Lyon," said Harold.
"And I'm sure, Mr. Lyon, you will understand our desire."
"Assuredly, sir. My daughter would in any case have had my advice to
seek a conclusion which would involve no strife. We endeavor, sir, in
our body, to hold to the apostolic rule that one Christian brother
should not go to law with another; and I, for my part, would extend this
rule to all my fellow-men, apprehending that the practice of our courts
is little consistent with the simplicity that is in Christ."
"If it is to depend on my will," said Esther, "there is nothing that
would be more repugnant to me than any struggle on such a subject. But
can't the lawyers go on doing what they will in spite of me? It seems
that this is what they mean."
"Not exactly," said Harold, smiling. "Of course they live by such
struggles as you dislike. But we can thwart them by determining not to
quarrel. It is desirable that we should consider the affair together,
and put it into the hands of honorable solicitors. I assure you we
Transomes will not contend for what is not our own."
"And this is what I have come to beg of you," said Mrs. Transome. "It is
that you will come to Transome Court--and let us take full time to
arrange matters. Do oblige me: you shall not be teased more than you
like by an old woman: you shall do just as you please, and become
acquainted with your future home, since it is to be yours. I can tell
you a world of things that you will want to know; and the business can
proceed properly."
"Do consent," said Harold, with winning brevity.
Esther was flushed and her eyes were bright. It was impossible for her
not to feel that the proposal was a more tempting step toward her change
of condition than she could have thought of beforehand. She had
forgotten that she was in any trouble. But she looked toward her father,
who was again stroking his chin, as was his habit when he was doubting
or deliberating.
"I hope you do not disapprove of Miss Lyon's granting us this favor?"
said Harold to the minister.
"I have nothing to oppose to it, sir, if my daughter's own mind is clear
as to her course."
"You will come--now--with us," said Mrs. Transome, persuasively. "You
will go back with us now in the carriage."
Harold was highly gratified with the perfection of his mother's manner
on this occasion, which he had looked forward to as difficult. Since he
had come home again he had never seen her so much at her ease, or with
so much benignancy in her face. The secret lay in the charm of Esther's
sweet young deference, a sort of charm that had not before entered into
Mrs. Transome's elderly life. Esther's pretty behavior, it must be
confessed, was not fed entirely from lofty moral sources: over and above
her really generous feeling, she enjoyed Mrs. Transome's accent, the
high-bred quietness of her speech, the delicate odor of her drapery. She
had always thought that life must be particularly easy if one could pass
it among refined people; and so it seemed at this moment. She wished,
unmixedly, to go to Transome Court.
"Since my father has no objection," she said, "and you urge me so
kindly. But I must beg for time to pack up a few clothes."
"By all means," said Mrs. Transome. "We are not at all pressed."
When Esther had left the room, Harold said, "Apart from our immediate
reason for coming, Mr. Lyon, I could have wished to see you about these
unhappy consequences of the election contest. But you will understand
that I have been much preoccupied with private affairs."
"You have well said that the consequences are unhappy, sir. And but for
a reliance on something more than human calculation, I know not which I
should most bewail--the scandal which wrong-dealing has brought on right
principles or the snares which it laid for the feet of a young man who
is dear to me. 'One soweth, and another reapeth,' is a verity that
applies to evil as well as good."
"You are referring to Felix Holt. I have not neglected steps to secure
the best legal help for the prisoners: but I am given to understand that
Holt refuses any aid from me. I hope he will not go rashly to work in
speaking in his own defence without any legal instruction. It is an
opprobrium of our law that no counsel is allowed to plead for the
prisoner in cases of felony. A ready tongue may do a man as much harm as
good in a court of justice. He piques himself on making a display, and
displays a little too much."
"Sir, you know him not," said the little minister, in his deeper tone.
"He would not accept, even if it were accorded, a defense wherein the
truth was screened or avoided,--not from a vainglorious spirit of
self-exhibition, for he hath a singular directness and simplicity of
speech; but from an averseness to a profession wherein a man may without
shame seek to justify the wicked for reward, and take away the
righteousness of the righteous from him."
"It's a pity a fine young fellow should do himself harm by fanatical
notions of that sort. I could at least have procured the advantage of
first-rate consultation. He didn't look to me like a dreamy personage."
"Nor is he dreamy; rather, his excess lies in being too practical."
"Well, I hope you will not encourage him in such irrationality; the
question is not one of misrepresentation, but of adjusting fact, so as
to raise it to the power of evidence. Don't you see that?"
"I do, I do. But I distrust not Felix Holt's discernment in regard to
his own case. He builds not on doubtful things and hath no illusory
hopes; on the contrary, he is of a too-scornful incredulity where I
would fain see a more childlike faith. But he will hold no belief
without action corresponding thereto; and the occasion of his return to
this, his native place, at a time which has proved fatal, was no other
than his resolve to hinder the sale of some drugs, which had chiefly
supported his mother, but which his better knowledge showed him to be
pernicious to the human frame. He undertook to support her by his own
labor; but, sir, I pray you to mark--and old as I am, I will not deny
that this young man instructs me herein--I pray you to mark the
poisonous confusion of good and evil which is the wide-spreading effect
of vicious practices. Through the use of undue electioneering
means--concerning which, however, I do not accuse you farther than of
having acted the part of him who washes his hands when he delivers up to
others the exercise of an iniquitous power--Felix Holt is, I will not
scruple to say, the innocent victim of a riot; and that deed of strict
honesty, whereby he took on himself the charge of his aged mother, seems
now to have deprived her of sufficient bread, and is even an occasion of
reproach to him from the weaker brethren."
"I shall be proud to supply her as amply as you think desirable," said
Harold, not enjoying this lecture.
"I will pray you to speak of this question with my daughter, who, it
appears, may herself have large means at command, and would desire to
minister to Mrs. Holt's needs with all friendship and delicacy. For the
present I can take care that she lacks nothing essential."
As Mr. Lyon was speaking, Esther re-entered, equipped for her drive. She
laid her hand on her father's arm and said, "You will let my pupils know
at once, will you, father?"
"Doubtless, my dear," said the old man, trembling a little under the
feeling that this departure of Esther's was a crisis. Nothing again
would be as it had been in their mutual life. But he feared that he was
being mastered by a too tender self-regard, and struggled to keep
himself calm.
Mrs. Transome and Harold had both risen.
"If you are quite ready, Miss Lyon," said Harold, divining that the
father and daughter would like to have an unobserved moment, "I will
take my mother to the carriage and come back for you."
When they were alone, Esther put her hands on her father's shoulders and
kissed him.
"This will not be a grief to you, I hope, father? You think it is better
that I should go?"
"Nay, child, I am weak. But I would fain be capable of a joy quite apart
from the accidents of my aged earthly existence, which, indeed, is a
petty and almost dried-up fountain--whereas to the receptive soul the
river of life pauses not, nor is diminished."
"Perhaps you will see Felix Holt again and tell him all?"
"Shall I say aught to him for you?"
"Oh, no; only that Job Tudge has a little flannel shirt and a box of
lozenges," said Esther, smiling. "Ah, I hear Mr. Transome coming back. I
must say good-bye to Lyddy, else she will cry over my hard heart."
In spite of all the grave thoughts that had been, Esther felt it a very
pleasant as well as new experience to be led to the carriage by Harold
Transome, to be seated on soft cushions, and bowled along, looked at
admiringly and deferentially by a person opposite, whom it was agreeable
to look at in return, and talked to with suavity and liveliness. Toward
what prospect was that easy carriage really leading her? She could not
be always asking herself Mentor-like questions. Her young, bright nature
was rather weary of the sadness that had grown heavier in these last
weeks, like a chill white mist hopelessly veiling the day. Her fortune
was beginning to appear worthy of being called good fortune. She had
come to a new stage in her journey; a new day had arisen on new scenes,
and her young untired spirit was full of curiosity.