The Complete Novels of George Eliot . George Eliot

you a share in the business,—a share which we shall be glad to increase as the years go on. We think that’ll be better, on all grounds, than raising your salary. It’ll give you more importance, and prepare you better for taking some of the anxiety off my shoulders by and by. I’m equal to a good deal o’ work at present, thank God; but I’m getting older,—there’s no denying that. I told Mr. Guest I would open the subject to you; and when you come back from this northern business, we can go into particulars. This is a great stride for a young fellow of three-and-twenty, but I’m bound to say you’ve deserved it.”

      “I’m very grateful to Mr. Guest and you, sir; of course I feel the most indebted to you, who first took me into the business, and have taken a good deal of pains with me since.”

      Tom spoke with a slight tremor, and paused after he had said this.

      “Yes, yes,” said Mr. Deane. “I don’t spare pains when I see they’ll be of any use. I gave myself some trouble with Gell, else he wouldn’t have been what he is.”

      “But there’s one thing I should like to mention to you uncle. I’ve never spoken to you of it before. If you remember, at the time my father’s property was sold, there was some thought of your firm buying the Mill; I know you thought it would be a very good investment, especially if steam were applied.”

      “To be sure, to be sure. But Wakem outbid us; he’d made up his mind to that. He’s rather fond of carrying everything over other people’s heads.”

      “Perhaps it’s of no use my mentioning it at present,” Tom went on, “but I wish you to know what I have in my mind about the Mill. I’ve a strong feeling about it. It was my father’s dying wish that I should try and get it back again whenever I could; it was in his family for five generations. I promised my father; and besides that, I’m attached to the place. I shall never like any other so well. And if it should ever suit your views to buy it for the firm, I should have a better chance of fulfilling my father’s wish. I shouldn’t have liked to mention the thing to you, only you’ve been kind enough to say my services have been of some value. And I’d give up a much greater chance in life for the sake of having the Mill again,—I mean having it in my own hands, and gradually working off the price.”

      Mr. Deane had listened attentively, and now looked thoughtful.

      “I see, I see,” he said, after a while; “the thing would be possible if there were any chance of Wakem’s parting with the property. But that I don’t see. He’s put that young Jetsome in the place; and he had his reasons when he bought it, I’ll be bound.”

      “He’s a loose fish, that young Jetsome,” said Tom. “He’s taking to drinking, and they say he’s letting the business go down. Luke told me about it,—our old miller. He says he sha’n’t stay unless there’s an alteration. I was thinking, if things went on that way, Wakem might be more willing to part with the Mill. Luke says he’s getting very sour about the way things are going on.”

      “Well, I’ll turn it over, Tom. I must inquire into the matter, and go into it with Mr. Guest. But, you see, it’s rather striking out a new branch, and putting you to that, instead of keeping you where you are, which was what we’d wanted.”

      “I should be able to manage more than the Mill when things were once set properly going, sir. I want to have plenty of work. There’s nothing else I care about much.”

      There was something rather sad in that speech from a young man of three-and-twenty, even in uncle Deane’s business-loving ears.

      “Pooh, pooh! you’ll be having a wife to care about one of these days, if you get on at this pace in the world. But as to this Mill, we mustn’t reckon on our chickens too early. However, I promise you to bear it in mind, and when you come back we’ll talk of it again. I am going to dinner now. Come and breakfast with us to-morrow morning, and say good-bye to your mother and sister before you start.”

      Chapter VI.

      Illustrating the Laws of Attraction

      It is evident to you now that Maggie had arrived at a moment in her life which must be considered by all prudent persons as a great opportunity for a young woman. Launched into the higher society of St. Ogg’s, with a striking person, which had the advantage of being quite unfamiliar to the majority of beholders, and with such moderate assistance of costume as you have seen foreshadowed in Lucy’s anxious colloquy with aunt Pullet, Maggie was certainly at a new starting-point in life. At Lucy’s first evening party, young Torry fatigued his facial muscles more than usual in order that “the dark-eyed girl there in the corner” might see him in all the additional style conferred by his eyeglass; and several young ladies went home intending to have short sleeves with black lace, and to plait their hair in a broad coronet at the back of their head,—“That cousin of Miss Deane’s looked so very well.” In fact, poor Maggie, with all her inward consciousness of a painful past and her presentiment of a troublous future, was on the way to become an object of some envy,—a topic of discussion in the newly established billiard-room, and between fair friends who had no secrets from each other on the subject of trimmings. The Miss Guests, who associated chiefly on terms of condescension with the families of St. Ogg’s, and were the glass of fashion there, took some exception to Maggie’s manners. She had a way of not assenting at once to the observations current in good society, and of saying that she didn’t know whether those observations were true or not, which gave her an air of gaucherie, and impeded the even flow of conversation; but it is a fact capable of an amiable interpretation that ladies are not the worst disposed toward a new acquaintance of their own sex because she has points of inferiority. And Maggie was so entirely without those pretty airs of coquetry which have the traditional reputation of driving gentlemen to despair that she won some feminine pity for being so ineffective in spite of her beauty. She had not had many advantages, poor thing! and it must be admitted there was no pretension about her; her abruptness and unevenness of manner were plainly the result of her secluded and lowly circumstances. It was only a wonder that there was no tinge of vulgarity about her, considering what the rest of poor Lucy’s relations were—an allusion which always made the Miss Guests shudder a little. It was not agreeable to think of any connection by marriage with such people as the Gleggs and the Pullets; but it was of no use to contradict Stephen when once he had set his mind on anything, and certainly there was no possible objection to Lucy in herself,—no one could help liking her. She would naturally desire that the Miss Guests should behave kindly to this cousin of whom she was so fond, and Stephen would make a great fuss if they were deficient in civility. Under these circumstances the invitations to Park House were not wanting; and elsewhere, also, Miss Deane was too popular and too distinguished a member of society in St. Ogg’s for any attention toward her to be neglected.