Rosamond took advantage of his silence.
"When we were married everyone felt that your position was very high.
I could not have imagined then that you would want to sell our furniture,
and take a house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like cages.
If we are to live in that way let us at least leave Middlemarch."
"These would be very strong considerations," said Lydgate,
half ironically--still there was a withered paleness about his
lips as he looked at his coffee, and did not drink--"these would
be very strong considerations if I did not happen to be in debt."
"Many persons must have been in debt in the same way, but if they
are respectable, people trust them. I am sure I have heard papa
say that the Torbits were in debt, and they went on very well. It
cannot be good to act rashly," said Rosamond, with serene wisdom.
Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning
he could apply to Rosamond seemed likely to conquer her assent,
he wanted to smash and grind some object on which he could at least
produce an impression, or else to tell her brutally that he was master,
and she must obey. But he not only dreaded the effect of such
extremities on their mutual life--he had a growing dread of Rosamond's
quiet elusive obstinacy, which would not allow any assertion of power
to be final; and again, she had touched him in a spot of keenest
feeling by implying that she had been deluded with a false vision
of happiness in marrying him.
Pages:
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002