CHAPTER 6
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The Hard-Won TriumphTHREE weeks later, when Dorlill was at its prettiest moment in all the year - the great chestnuts in blossom, and the grass all deep and daisied - Tom Tulliver came home to it earlier than usual in the evening, and as he passed over the bridge, he looked with the old deep-rooted affe at the respectable red brick house, which always seemed cheerful and inviting outside, let the rooms be as bare and the hearts as sad as they might, ihere is a very pleasant light in Toms blue-grey eyes as he gla the house-windows: that fold in his brow never disappears but it is not unbeing - it seems to imply a strength of will that may possibly be without harshness, when the eyes and mouth have their ge expression. His firm step bees quicker, and the ers of his mouth rebel against the pression which is meant to forbid a smile.
The eyes in the parlour were not turowards the bridge just then, and the group there was sitting in uant silence: Mr Tulliver in his armchair, tired with a long ride, and ruminating with a worn look, fixed chiefly on Maggie, who was bending over her sewing while her mother was making the tea.
They all looked up with surprise when they heard the well-known foot.
`Why whats up now, Tom? said his father. `Youre a bit earlier than usual.
`O, there was nothing more for me to do, so I came away. Well, mother!
Tom went up to his mother and kissed her - a sign of unusual good-humour with him. Hardly a word or look had passed between him and Maggie in all the three weeks; but his usual inunicativeness at home prevehis from being noticeable to their parents.
`Father, said Tom, when they had fiea, `do you kly how much mohere is iin box?
`Only a hundred and hree pound, said Mr Tulliver. `Youve brought less o late - but young fellows like to have their oith their mohough I didnt do as I liked before I was of age. He spoke with rather timid distent.
`Are you quite sure thats the sum, father? said Tom: `I wish you would take the trouble to fetch the tin box down. I think you have perhaps made a mistake.
`How should I make a mistake? said his father, sharply. `Ive ted it often enough. But I fetch it - if you wont believe me.
It was always an i Mr Tulliver liked, in his gloomy life, to fetch the tin box and t the money.
`Dont go out of the room, mother, said Tom, as he saw her moving, when his father was gone upstairs.
`And isnt Maggie to go? said Mrs Tulliver, `because somebody must take away the things.
`Just as she likes, said Tom indifferently.
That was a cutting word to Maggie. Her heart had leaped with the sudden vi that Tom was going to tell their father, the debts could be paid - and Tom would have let her be absent when that news was told! But she carried away the tray, and came back immediately. The feeling of injury on her own behalf could not predomi that moment.
Tom drew to the er of the table near his father, whein <cite></cite>box was set down and opened, and the red evening light falling on them made spicuous the worn, sloom of the dark-eyed father and the suppressed joy in the face of the fair-plexioned son. The mother and Maggie sat at the other end of the table; the one in blank patiehe other in palpitating expectation.
Mr Tulliver ted out the money, setting it in order oable, and then said, glang sharply at Tom,
`There, now! you see I was right enough.
He paused, looking at the money with bitter despondency.
`Theres more nor three hundred wanting - itll be a fine while before I save that. Losing that forty-two pound wi the was a sore job. This worlds been too many for me. Its took four year to lay this by - its much if Im above ground for another four year... I must trusten to you to pay em, he went on with a trembling voice, `if you keep i the same mind now youre ing o age... But youre like enough to bury me first.
He looked up in Toms face with a querulous desire for some assurance.
`No, father, said Tom, speaking with eic decision, though there was tremor disible in his voice too, `You will live to see the debts all paid. You shall pay them with your own hand.
His tone implied something more than mere hopefulness or resolution. A slight electric shock seemed to pass through Mr Tulliver, and he kept his eyes fixed on Tom with a look of eager inquiry, while Maggie, uo restrain herself, rushed to her fathers side and k down by him. Tom was silent a little while, before he went on.
`A good while ago, my uncle Glegg lent me a little moo trade with, and that has answered. I have three hundred and twenty pounds in the bank.
His mothers arms were round his neck as soon as the last words were uttered, and she said, half-g,
`O my boy, I knew youd make iverything right again, when you got a man.
But his father was silent: the flood of emotion hemmed in all power of speech. Both Tom and Maggie were struck with fear lest the shock of joy might eveal. But the blessed relief of tears came. The broad chest heaved, the muscles of the face gave way, and the grey-haired man burst into loud sobs. The fit of weeping gradually subsided a quiet, rec the regularity of his breathing. At last he looked up at his wife and said, in a geone,
`Bessy, you must e and kiss me now - the lad has made y amends. Youll see a bit o fain belike.
When she had kissed him and he had held her hand a minute, his thoughts went back to the money.
`I wish youd brought me the moo look at, Tom, he said, fingering the sns oable. `I should ha felt surer.
`You shall see it tomorrow, father, said Tom. `My uncle Deane has<strike></strike> appoihe creditors to meet tomorrow at the Golden Lion, and he has ordered a dinner for them at two oclock. My uncle Glegg and he will both be there. It was advertised in the Messenger on Saturday.
`Then Wakem knows ont! said Mr Tulliver, his eye kindling with triumphant fire. `Ah! he went on, with a long-drawn guttural enunciation, taking out his snuff-box, the only luxury he had left himself, and tapping it with something of his old air of defiance. `Ill get from under his thumb now - though I must leave th old mill. I thought I could ha held out to die here - but I t... Weve got a glass o nothing in the house, have we, Bessy?
`Yes, said Mrs Tulliver drawing out her much-reduced bunch of keys, `theres some bra<kbd>九九藏书</kbd>ndy sister Deane brought me when I was ill.
`Get it me, the me. I feel a bit weak.
`Tom, my lad, he said, in a stronger voice, when he had taken some brandy and water, `You shall make a spee. Ill tell em its you as got the best part o the moheyll see Im ho at last, and ha got an ho son. Ah! Wakem ud be fine and glad to have a son like mine - a firaight fellow - istead o that poor crooked creatur! Youll prosper i the world, my lad; youll maybe see the day when Wakem and his son ull be a round or two below you. Youll like enough be taen into partnership, as your uncle Deane was before you - youre in the right way fort; and then theres nothing to hinder yetting rich... And if ever youre riough - mind this - try ah old mill again.
Mr Tulliver threw himself ba his chair - his mind, which had so lohe home of nothing but bitter distent and foreboding suddenly filled, by the magic of joy, with visions of good fortune. But some subtle influence prevented him from foreseeing the good fortune as happening to himself.
`Shake hands wi me, my lad, he said, suddenly putting out his hand. `Its a great thing when a man be proud as hes got a good son. Ive had that luck.
Tom never lived to taste another moment so delicious as that, and Maggie couldnt help fetting her own grievaom was good; and in the sweet humility that springs in us all in moments of true admiration and gratitude, she felt that th<figure>99lｉb?</figure>e faults he had to pardon in her had never been redeemed, as his faults were. She felt no jealousy this evening that for the first time, she seemed to be thrown into the background in her fathers mind.
There was much more talk before bed-time. Mr Tulliver naturally wao hear all the particulars of Toms trading adventures, and he listened with growiement and delight. He was curious to know what had been said on every occasion - if possible, what had been thought; and Bob Jakins part in the busihrew him into peculiar outbursts of sympathy with the triumphant knowingness of that remarkable pa. Bobs juvenile history so far as it had e under Mr Tullivers knowledge was recalled with that sense of astonishing promise it displayed, which is observable in all reminisces of the childhood of great men.
It was well that there was this i of narrative to keep uhe vague but fierce sense of triumph over Wakem which would otherwise have been the el his joy would have rushed into with dangerous force. Even as it was, that feeling from time to time gave threats of its ultimate mastery, in sudden bursts of irrelevant exclamation.
It was long before Mr Tulliver got to sleep that night, and the sleep, when it came, was filled with vivid dreams.<q>.99lib.</q> At half past five oclo the m, when Mrs Tulliver was already rising, he alarmed her by starting up with a sort of smothered shout, and looking round in a bewildered way at the walls of the bedroom.
`Whats the matter, Mr Tulliver? said his wife. He looked at her, still with a puzzled expression and said at last,
`Ah! - I was dreaming... did I make a noise?... I thought Id got hold of him.
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