Middlemarch
Page 510"Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do!" said Rosamond, with a
little turn of her neck. "But I have heard you express your disgust at
that way of living."
"Yes, they have bad taste in everything--they make economy look ugly.
We needn't do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses, although
Wrench has a capital practice."
"Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacock had.
You should be more careful not to offend people, and you should send
out medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and you got
several good houses. It cannot answer to be eccentric; you should
think what will be generally liked," said Rosamond, in a decided little
Lydgate's anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towards feminine
weakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallowness of a
waternixie's soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. But he
controlled himself, and only said, with a touch of despotic firmness--
"What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge. That is
not the question between us. It is enough for you to know that our
income is likely to be a very narrow one--hardly four hundred, perhaps
less, for a long time to come, and we must try to re-arrange our lives
in accordance with that fact."
Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, and then
give to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work for nothing."
"It was understood from the beginning that my services would be
gratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion. I have
pointed out what is the only probability," said Lydgate, impatiently.
Then checking himself, he went on more quietly--
"I think I see one resource which would free us from a good deal of the
present difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to be
married to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often that
a good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would be
glad to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and they
Trumbull to speak to Plymdale about it."
Rosamond left her husband's knee and walked slowly to the other end of
the room; when she turned round and walked towards him it was evident
that the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lip and
clasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate was
wretched--shaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanly to
vent the anger just now.