CHAPTER XXXI. THE DRYAD.

adneverbymebeenwhollyabandonedandwheneveracertaineyewasavertedfromme,andacertaincountenancegrewdarkwithunkindnessandinjustice,intothattrackofspeculationdidIatoncestrikesothat,littlebylittle,Ihadlaidhalfaplan. “Livingcostslittle,”saidItomyself,“inthiseconomicaltownofVillette,wherepeoplearemoresensiblethanIunderstandtheyareindearoldEngland—infinitelylessworriedaboutappearance,andlessemulousofdisplay—wherenobodyisintheleastashamedtobequiteashomelyandsavingashefindsconvenient.House-rent,inaprudentlychosensituation,neednotbehigh.WhenIshallhavesavedonethousandfrancs,Iwilltakeatenementwithonelargeroom,andtwoorthreesmallerones,furnishthefirstwithafewbenchesanddesks,ablacktableau,anestradeformyselfuponitachairandtable,withaspongeandsomewhitechalksbeginwithtakingday-pupils,andsoworkmywayupwards.MadameBeck’scommencementwas—asIhaveoftenheardhersay—fromnohigherstarting-point,andwhereisshenow?Allthesepremisesandthisgardenarehers,boughtwithhermoneyshehasacompetencyalreadysecuredforoldage,andaflourishingestablishmentunderherdirection,whichwillfurnishacareerforherchildren. “Courage,LucySnowe!Withself-denialandeconomynow,andsteadyexertionby-and-by,anobjectinlifeneednotfailyou.Venturenottocomplainthatsuchanobjectistooselfish,toolimited,andlacksinterestbecontenttolabourforindependenceuntilyouhaveproved,bywinningthatprize,yourrighttolookhigher.Butafterwards,istherenothingmoreformeinlife—notruehome—nothingtobedearertomethanmyself,andbyitsparamountpreciousness,todrawfrommebetterthingsthanIcaretocultureformyselfonly?Nothing,atwhosefeetIcanwillinglylaydownthewholeburdenofhumanegotism,andgloriouslytakeupthenoblerchargeoflabouringandlivingforothers?Isuppose,LucySnowe,theorbofyourlifeisnottobesorounded:foryou,thecrescent-phasemustsuffice.Verygood.Iseeahugemassofmyfellow-creaturesinnobettercircumstances.Iseethatagreatmanymen,andmorewomen,holdtheirspanoflifeonconditionsofdenialandprivation.IfindnoreasonwhyIshouldbeofthefewfavoured.Ibelieveinsomeblendingofhopeandsunshinesweeteningtheworstlots.Ibelievethatthislifeisnotallneitherthebeginningnortheend.IbelievewhileItrembleItrustwhileIweep.” Sothissubjectisdonewith.Itisrighttolookourlife-accountsbravelyinthefacenowandthen,andsettlethemhonestly.Andheisapoorself-swindlerwholiestohimselfwhilehereckonstheitems,andsetsdownunderthehead—happinessthatwhichismisery.Callanguish—anguish,anddespair—despairwritebothdowninstrongcharacterswitharesolutepen:youwillthebetterpayyourdebttoDoom.Falsify:insert“privilege”whereyoushouldhavewritten“pain”andseeifyourmightycreditorwillallowthefraudtopass,oracceptthecoinwithwhichyouwouldcheathim.Offertothestrongest—ifthedarkestangelofGod’shost—water,whenhehasaskedblood—willhetakeit?Notawholepaleseaforonereddrop.Isettledanotheraccount. PausingbeforeMethusaleh—thegiantandpatriarchofthegarden—andleaningmybrowagainsthisknottytrunk,myfootrestedonthestonesealingthesmallsepulchreathisrootandIrecalledthepassageoffeelingthereinburiedIrecalledDr.Johnmywarmaffectionforhimmyfaithinhisexcellencemydelightinhisgrace.Whatwasbecomeofthatcuriousone-sidedfriendshipwhichwashalfmarbleandhalflifeonlyononehandtruth,andontheotherperhapsajest? Wasthisfeelingdead?Idonotknow,butitwasburied.SometimesIthoughtthetombunquiet,anddreamedstrangelyofdisturbedearth,andofhair,stillgolden,andliving,obtrudedthroughcoffin-chinks. HadIbeentoohasty?IusedtoaskmyselfandthisquestionwouldoccurwithacruelsharpnessaftersomebriefchanceinterviewwithDr.John.Hehadstillsuchkindlooks,suchawarmhandhisvoicestillkeptsopleasantatoneformynameIneverliked“Lucy”sowellaswhenheutteredit.ButIlearnedintimethatthisbenignity,thiscordiality,thismusic,belongedinnoshapetome:itwasapartofhimselfitwastheh