I'm sick at heart. The eye of day,
The insistent summer noon, seems pitiless,
Shining in all the barren crevices
Of weary life, leaving no shade, no dark,
Where I may dream that hidden waters lie.
Shortly after Mrs. Holt's striking presentation of herself at Transome
Court, Esther went on a second visit to her father. The Loamford Assizes
were approaching; it was expected that in about ten days Felix Holt's
trial would come on, and some hints in her father's letters had given
Esther the impression that he was taking a melancholy view of the
result. Harold Transome had once or twice mentioned the subject with a
facile hopefulness as to "the young fellow's coming off easily," which,
in her anxious mind, was not a counterpoise to disquieting suggestions,
and she had not chosen to introduce another conversation about Felix
Holt, by questioning Harold concerning the probabilities he relied on.
Since those moments on the terrace, Harold had daily become more of the
solicitous and indirectly beseeching lover; and Esther, from the very
fact that she was weighed on by thoughts that were painfully bewildering
to her--by thoughts which, in their newness to her young mind, seemed to
shake her belief that life could be anything else than a compromise with
things repugnant to the moral taste--had become more passive to his
attentions at the very time that she had begun to feel more profoundly
that in accepting Harold Transome she left the high mountain air, the
passionate serenity of perfect love forever behind her, and must adjust
her wishes to a life of middling delights, overhung with the languorous
haziness of motiveless ease, where poetry was only literature, and the
fine ideas had to be taken down from the shelves of the library when her
husband's back was turned. But it seemed as if all outward conditions
concurred, along with her generous sympathy for the Transomes, and with
those native tendencies against which she had once begun to struggle, to
make this middling lot the best she could attain to. She was in this
half-sad, half-satisfied resignation to something like what is called
worldly wisdom, when she went to see her father, and learn what she
could from him about Felix.
The little minister was much depressed, unable to resign himself to the
dread which had begun to haunt him, that Felix might have to endure the
odious penalty of transportation for the manslaughter, which was the
offence that no evidence in his favor could disprove.
"I had been encouraged by the assurances of men instructed in this
regard," said Mr. Lyon, while Esther sat on the stool near him, and
listened anxiously, "that though he were pronounced guilty in regard to
this deed whereunto he hath calamitously fallen, yet that a judge mildly
disposed, and with a due sense of that invisible activity of the soul
whereby the deeds which are the same in outward appearance and effect,
yet differ as the knife-stroke of the surgeon, even though it kill,
differs from the knife-stroke of a wanton mutilater, might use his
discretion in tempering the punishment, so that it would not be very
evil to bear. But now it is said that the judge who cometh is a severe
man, and one nourishing a prejudice against the bolder spirits who
stand not in the old paths."
"I am going to be present at the trial, father," said Esther, who was
preparing the way to express a wish, which she was timid about even with
her father. "I mentioned to Mrs. Transome that I should like to do so,
and she said that she used in old days always to attend the assizes, and
that she would take me. You will be there, father?"
"Assuredly I shall be there, having been summoned to bear witness to
Felix's character, and to his having uttered remonstrances and warnings
long beforehand whereby he proved himself an enemy to riot. In our ears,
who know him, it sounds strangely that aught else should be credible;
but he hath few to speak for him, though I trust that Mr. Harold
Transome's testimony will go far, if, as you say, he is disposed to set
aside minor regards, and not to speak the truth grudgingly and
reluctantly. For the very truth hath a color from the disposition of the
utterer."
"He is kind; he is capable of being generous," said Esther.
"It is well. For I verily believe that evil-minded men have been at work
against Felix. The _Duffield Watchman_ hath written continually in
allusion to him as one of those mischievous men who seek to elevate
themselves through the dishonor of their party; and as one of those who
go not heart and soul with the needs of the people, but seek only to get
a hearing for themselves by raising their voices in crotchety discord.
It is these things that cause me heaviness of spirit: the dark secret of
this young man's lot is a cross I carry daily."
"Father," said Esther, timidly, while the eyes of both were filling with
tears, "I should like to see him again before his trial. Might I? Will
you ask him? Will you take me?"
The minister raised his suffused eyes to hers, and did not speak for a
moment or two. A new thought had visited him. But his delicate
tenderness shrank even from an inward enquiry that was too curious--that
seemed like an effort to peep at sacred secrets.
"I see naught against it, my dear child, if you arrived early enough,
and would take the elderly lady into your confidence, so that you might
descend from the carriage at some suitable place--the house of the
Independent minister, for example--where I could meet and accompany you.
I would forewarn Felix, who would doubtless delight to see your face
again; seeing that he may go away, and be, as it were, buried from you,
even though it may be only in prison, and not----"
This was too much for Esther. She threw her arms round her father's neck
and sobbed like a child. It was an unspeakable relief to her after all
the pent-up, stifling experience, all the inward incommunicable debate
of the last few weeks. The old man was deeply moved, too, and held his
arm close round the dear child, praying silently.
No word was spoken for some minutes, till Esther raised herself, dried
her eyes, and, with an action that seemed playful, though there was no
smile on her face, pressed her handkerchief against her father's cheeks.
Then, when she had put her hand in his, he said, solemnly--
"'Tis a great and mysterious gift, this clinging of the heart, my
Esther, whereby it hath often seemed to me that even in the very moment
of suffering our souls have the keenest foretaste of heaven. I speak not
lightly, but as one who hath endured. And 'tis a strange truth that only
in the agony of parting we look into the depths of love."
So the interview ended, without any question from Mr. Lyon concerning
what Esther contemplated as the ultimate arrangement between herself and
the Transomes.
After this conversation, which showed him that what happened to Felix
touched Esther more closely than he had supposed, the minister felt no
impulse to raise the images of a future so unlike anything that Felix
would share. And Esther would have been unable to answer any such
questions. The successive weeks, instead of bringing her nearer to
clearness and decision, had only brought that state of disenchantment
belonging to the actual presence of things which have long dwelt in the
imagination with all the factitious charms of arbitrary arrangement. Her
imaginary mansion had not been inhabited just as Transome Court was; her
imaginary fortune had not been attended with circumstances which she was
unable to sweep away. She, herself, in her Utopia, had never been what
she was now--a woman whose heart was divided and oppressed. The first
spontaneous offering of her woman's devotion, the first great
inspiration of her life, was a sort of vanished ecstasy which had left
its wounds. It seemed to her a cruel misfortune of her young life that
her best feeling, her most precious dependence, had been called forth
just where the conditions were hardest, and that all the easy
invitations of circumstance were toward something which that previous
consecration of her longing had made a moral descent for her. It was
characteristic of her that she scarcely at all entertained the
alternative of such a compromise as would have given her the larger
portion of the fortune to which she had a legal claim, and yet have
satisfied her sympathy by leaving the Transomes in possession of their
old home. Her domestication with this family had brought them into the
foreground of her imagination; the gradual wooing of Harold had acted on
her with a constant immediate influence that predominated over all
indefinite prospects; and a solitary elevation to wealth, which out of
Utopia she had no notion how she should manage, looked as chill and
dreary as the offer of dignities in an unknown country.
In the ages since Adam's marriage, it has been good for some men to be
alone, and for some women also. But Esther was not one of these women:
she was intensely of the feminine type, verging neither toward the saint
nor the angel. She was "a fair divided excellence, whose fullness of
perfection" must be in marriage. And, like all youthful creatures, she
felt as if the present conditions of choice were final. It belonged to
the freshness of her heart that, having had her emotions strongly
stirred by real objects, she never speculated on possible relations yet
to come. It seemed to her that she stood at the first and last parting
of the ways. And, in one sense she was under no illusion. It is only in
that freshness of our time that the choice is possible which gives unity
to life, and makes the memory a temple where all relics and all votive
offerings, all worship and all grateful joy, are an unbroken history
sanctified by one religion.