"There's more ways than one of being a fool," said Solomon. "I shan't

leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I shan't leave it to

foundlings from Africay. I like Featherstones that were brewed such,

and not turned Featherstones with sticking the name on 'em."

Solomon addressed these remarks in a loud aside to Mrs. Waule as he

rose to accompany her. Brother Jonah felt himself capable of much more

stinging wit than this, but he reflected that there was no use in

offending the new proprietor of Stone Court, until you were certain

that he was quite without intentions of hospitality towards witty men

whose name he was about to bear.

Mr. Joshua Rigg, in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any

innuendoes, but showed a notable change of manner, walking coolly up to

Mr. Standish and putting business questions with much coolness. He had

a high chirping voice and a vile accent. Fred, whom he no longer moved

to laughter, thought him the lowest monster he had ever seen. But Fred

was feeling rather sick. The Middlemarch mercer waited for an

opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no knowing

how many pairs of legs the new proprietor might require hose for, and

profits were more to be relied on than legacies. Also, the mercer, as

a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity.

Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained proudly silent, though

too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of moving, till

he observed that his wife had gone to Fred's side and was crying

silently while she held her darling's hand. He rose immediately, and

turning his back on the company while he said to her in an

undertone,--"Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my

dear, before these people," he added in his usual loud voice--"Go and

order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste."

Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her

father. She met Fred in the hall, and now for the first time had the

courage to look at him. He had that withered sort of paleness which

will sometimes come on young faces, and his hand was very cold when she

shook it. Mary too was agitated; she was conscious that fatally,

without will of her own, she had perhaps made a great difference to

Fred's lot.

"Good-by," she said, with affectionate sadness. "Be brave, Fred. I do

believe you are better without the money. What was the good of it to

Mr. Featherstone?"

"That's all very fine," said Fred, pettishly. "What is a fellow to do?

I must go into the Church now." (He knew that this would vex Mary:

very well; then she must tell him what else he could do.) "And I

thought I should be able to pay your father at once and make everything

right. And you have not even a hundred pounds left you. What shall

you do now, Mary?"




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