finale-第2章

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who　took　kindly　to　her　four　children。　　She　made　a　very　pretty　show

with　her　daughters；　driving　out　in　her　carriage；　and　often　spoke

of　her　happiness　as　〃a　reward〃she　did　not　say　for　what；　but　probably

she　meant　that　it　was　a　reward　for　her　patience　with　Tertius；

whose　temper　never　became　faultless；　and　to　the　last　occasionally

let　slip　a　bitter　speech　which　was　more　memorable　than　the　signs

he　made　of　his　repentance。　　He　once　called　her　his　basil　plant；

and　when　she　asked　for　an　explanation；　said　that　basil　was　a　plant

which　had　flourished　wonderfully　on　a　murdered　man's　brains。　

Rosamond　had　a　placid　but　strong　answer　to　such　speeches。　　Why　then

had　he　chosen　her？　　It　was　a　pity　he　had　not　had　Mrs。　Ladislaw；

whom　he　was　always　praising　and　placing　above　her。　　And　thus

the　conversation　ended　with　the　advantage　on　Rosamond's　side。　

But　it　would　be　unjust　not　to　tell；　that　she　never　uttered　a　word

in　depreciation　of　Dorothea；　keeping　in　religious　remembrance

the　generosity　which　had　come　to　her　aid　in　the　sharpest　crisis　of

her　life。



Dorothea　herself　had　no　dreams　of　being　praised　above　other　women；

feeling　that　there　was　always　something　better　which　she　might　have　done；

if　she　had　only　been　better　and　known　better。　　Still；　she　never

repented　that　she　had　given　up　position　and　fortune　to　marry

Will　Ladislaw；　and　he　would　have　held　it　the　greatest　shame　as　well

as　sorrow　to　him　if　she　had　repented。　　They　were　bound　to　each　other

by　a　love　stronger　than　any　impulses　which　could　have　marred　it。　

No　life　would　have　been　possible　to　Dorothea　which　was　not　filled

with　emotion；　and　she　had　now　a　life　filled　also　with　a　beneficent

activity　which　she　had　not　the　doubtful　pains　of　discovering

and　marking　out　for　herself。　　Will　became　an　ardent　public　man；

working　well　in　those　times　when　reforms　were　begun　with　a　young

hopefulness　of　immediate　good　which　has　been　much　checked　in　our　days；

and　getting　at　last　returned　to　Parliament　by　a　constituency

who　paid　his　expenses。　　Dorothea　could　have　liked　nothing　better；

since　wrongs　existed；　than　that　her　husband　should　be　in　the　thick

of　a　struggle　against　them；　and　that　she　should　give　him　wifely　help。　

Many　who　knew　her；　thought　it　a　pity　that　so　substantive　and　rare

a　creature　should　have　been　absorbed　into　the　life　of　another；

and　be　only　known　in　a　certain　circle　as　a　wife　and　mother。　

But　no　one　stated　exactly　what　else　that　was　in　her　power　she　ought

rather　to　have　donenot　even　Sir　James　Chettam；　who　went　no　further

than　the　negative　prescription　that　she　ought　not　to　have　married

Will　Ladislaw。



But　this　opinion　of　his　did　not　cause　a　lasting　alienation；　and　the

way　in　which　the　family　was　made　whole　again　was　characteristic

of　all　concerned。　　Mr。　Brooke　could　not　resist　the　pleasure　of

corresponding　with　Will　and　Dorothea；　and　one　morning　when　his　pen

had　been　remarkably　fluent　on　the　prospects　of　Municipal　Reform；

it　ran　off　into　an　invitation　to　the　Grange；　which；　once　written；

could　not　be　done　away　with　at　less　cost　than　the　sacrifice

（hardly　to　be　conceived）　of　the　whole　valuable　letter。　

During　the　months　of　this　correspondence　Mr。　Brooke　had　continually；

in　his　talk　with　Sir　James　Chettam；　been　presupposing　or　hinting

that　the　intention　of　cutting　off　the　entail　was　still　maintained；

and　the　day　on　which　his　pen　gave　the　daring　invitation；　he　went

to　Freshitt　expressly　to　intimate　that　he　had　a　stronger　sense　than

ever　of　the　reasons　for　taking　that　energetic　step　as　a　precaution

against　any　mixture　of　low　blood　in　the　heir　of　the　Brookes。



But　that　morning　something　exciting　had　happened　at　the　Hall。　

A　letter　had　come　to　Celia　which　made　her　cry　silently　as　she　read　it；

and　when　Sir　James；　unused　to　see　her　in　tears；　asked　anxiously　what

was　the　matter；　she　burst　out　in　a　wail　such　as　he　had　never　heard

from　her　before。



〃Dorothea　has　a　little　boy。　　And　you　will　not　let　me　go　and　see　her。　

And　I　am　sure　she　wants　to　see　me。　　And　she　will　not　know　what　to　do

with　the　babyshe　will　do　wrong　things　with　it。　　And　they　thought

she　would　die。　　It　is　very　dreadful！　　Suppose　it　had　been　me　and

little　Arthur；　and　Dodo　had　been　hindered　from　coming　to　see　me！　

I　wish　you　would　be　less　unkind；　James！〃



〃Good　heavens；　Celia！〃　said　Sir　James；　much　wrought　upon；　〃what　do

you　wish？　　I　will　do　anything　you　like。　　I　will　take　you　to　town

to…morrow　if　you　wish　it。〃　　And　Celia　did　wish　it。



It　was　after　this　that　Mr。　Brooke　came；　and　meeting　the　Baronet

in　the　grounds；　began　to　chat　with　him　in　ignorance　of　the　news；

which　Sir　James　for　some　reason　did　not　care　to　tell　him　immediately。　

But　when　the　entail　was　touched　on　in　the　usual　way；　he　said；

〃My　dear　sir；　it　is　not　for　me　to　dictate　to　you；　but　for　my　part　I

would　let　that　alone。　　I　would　let　things　remain　as　they　are。〃



Mr。　Brooke　felt　so　much　surprised　that　he　did　not　at　once　find

out　how　much　he　was　relieved　by　the　sense　that　he　was　not　expected

to　do　anything　in　particular。



Such　being　the　bent　of　Celia's　heart；　it　was　inevitable　that　Sir　James

should　consent　to　a　reconciliation　with　Dorothea　and　her　husband。　

Where　women　love　each　other；　men　learn　to　smother　their　mutual　dislike。　

Sir　James　never　liked　Ladislaw；　and　Will　always　preferred　to　have　Sir

James's　company　mixed　with　another　kind：　　they　were　on　a　footing

of　reciprocal　tolerance　which　was　made　quite　easy　only　when　Dorothea

and　Celia　were　present。



It　became　an　understood　thing　that　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Ladislaw　should　pay

at　least　two　visits　during　the　year　to　the　Grange；　and　there　came

gradually　a　small　row　of　cousins　at　Freshitt　who　enjoyed　playing

with　the　two　cousins　Visiting　Tipton　as　much　as　if　the　blood

of　these　cousins　had　been　less　dubiously　mixed。



Mr。　Brooke　lived　to　a　good　old　age；　and　his　estate　was　inherited　by

Dorothea's　son；　who　might　have　represented　Middlemarch；　but　declined；

thinking　that　his　opinions　had　less　chance　of　being　stifled　if　he

remained　out　of　doors。



Sir　James　never　ceased　to　regard　Dorothea's　second　marriage　as　a　mistake；

and　indeed　this　remained　the　tradition　concerning　it　in　Middlemarch；

where　she　was　spoken　of　to　a　younger　generation　as　a　fine　girl

who　married　a　sickly　clergyman；　old　enough　to　be　her　father；　and　in

little　more　than　a　year　after　his　death　gave　up　her　estate　to　marry

his　cousinyoung　enough　to　have　been　his　son；　with　no　property；

and　not　well…born。　Those　who　had　not　seen　anything　of　Dorothea

usually　observed　that　she　could　not　have　been　〃a　nice　woman；〃

else　she　would　not　have　married　either　the　one　or　the　other。



Certainly　those　determining　acts　of　her　life　were　not　ideally　beautiful。　

They　were　the　mixed　result　of　young　and　noble　impulse　struggling

amidst　the　conditions　of　an　imperfect　social　state；　in　which　great

feelings　will　often　take　the　aspect　of　error；　and　great　faith　the

aspect　of　illusion。　　For　there　is　no　creature　whose　inward　being　is

so　strong　that　it　is　not　greatly　determined　by　what　lies　outside　it。　

A　new　Theresa　will　hardly　have　the　opportunity　of　reforming

a　conventual　life；　any　more　than　a　new　Antigone　will　spend　her

heroic　piety　in　daring　all　for　the　sake　of　a　brother's　burial：　

the　medium　in　which　their　ardent　deeds　took　shape　is　forever　gone。　

But　we　insignificant　people　with　our　daily　words　and　acts　are

preparing　the　lives　of　many　Dorotheas；　some　of　which　may　present

a　far　sadder　sacrifice　than　that　of　the　Dorothea　whose　story　we　know。



Her　finely　touched　spirit　had　still　its　fine　issues；　though　they　were

not　widely　visible。　　Her　full　nature；　like　that　river　of　which　Cyrus

broke　the　strength；　spent　itself　in　channels　which　had　no　great

name　on　the　earth。　　But　the　effect　of　her　being　on　those　around

her　was　incalculably　diffusive：　　for　the　growing　good　of　the　world

is　partly　dependent　on　unhistoric　acts；　and　that　things　are　not　so

ill　with　you　and　me　as　they　might　have　been；　is　half　owing　to　the

number　who　lived　fai