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"
Let
me
give
you
some
cordial
,
"
she
said
,
quietly
,
"
and
try
to
compose
yourself
.
You
will
perhaps
go
to
sleep
.
And
to
-
morrow
by
daylight
you
can
do
as
you
like
.
"
He
lifted
the
stick
,
in
spite
of
her
being
beyond
his
reach
,
and
threw
it
with
a
hard
effort
which
was
but
impotence
.
It
fell
,
slipping
over
the
foot
of
the
bed
.
Mary
let
it
lie
,
and
retreated
to
her
chair
by
the
fire
.
By
-
and
-
by
she
would
go
to
him
with
the
cordial
.
Fatigue
would
make
him
passive
.
It
was
getting
towards
the
chillest
moment
of
the
morning
,
the
fire
had
got
low
,
and
she
could
see
through
the
chink
between
the
moreen
window
-
curtains
the
light
whitened
by
the
blind
.
Having
put
some
wood
on
the
fire
and
thrown
a
shawl
over
her
,
she
sat
down
,
hoping
that
Mr
.
Featherstone
might
now
fall
asleep
.
If
she
went
near
him
the
irritation
might
be
kept
up
.
He
had
said
nothing
after
throwing
the
stick
,
but
she
had
seen
him
taking
his
keys
again
and
laying
his
right
hand
on
the
money
.
He
did
not
put
it
up
,
however
,
and
she
thought
that
he
was
dropping
off
to
sleep
.
But
Mary
herself
began
to
be
more
agitated
by
the
remembrance
of
what
she
had
gone
through
,
than
she
had
been
by
the
reality
—
questioning
those
acts
of
hers
which
had
come
imperatively
and
excluded
all
question
in
the
critical
moment
.
Presently
the
dry
wood
sent
out
a
flame
which
illuminated
every
crevice
,
and
Mary
saw
that
the
old
man
was
lying
quietly
with
his
head
turned
a
little
on
one
side
.
She
went
towards
him
with
inaudible
steps
,
and
thought
that
his
face
looked
strangely
motionless
;
but
the
next
moment
the
movement
of
the
flame
communicating
itself
to
all
objects
made
her
uncertain
.
The
violent
beating
of
her
heart
rendered
her
perceptions
so
doubtful
that
even
when
she
touched
him
and
listened
for
his
breathing
,
she
could
not
trust
her
conclusions
She
went
to
the
window
and
gently
propped
aside
the
curtain
and
blind
,
so
that
the
still
light
of
the
sky
fell
on
the
bed
.
The
next
moment
she
ran
to
the
bell
and
rang
it
energetically
.
In
a
very
little
while
there
was
no
longer
any
doubt
that
Peter
Featherstone
was
dead
,
with
his
right
hand
clasping
the
keys
,
and
his
left
hand
lying
on
the
heap
of
notes
and
gold
.
1st
Gent
.
Such
men
as
this
are
feathers
,
chips
,
and
straws
.
Carry
no
weight
,
no
force
.
2d
Gent
.
But
levityIs
causal
too
,
and
makes
the
sum
of
weight
.
For
power
finds
its
place
in
lack
of
power
;
Advance
is
cession
,
and
the
driven
shipMay
run
aground
because
the
helmsman
’
s
thoughtLacked
force
to
balance
opposites
.
"
It
was
on
a
morning
of
May
that
Peter
Featherstone
was
buried
.
In
the
prosaic
neighborhood
of
Middlemarch
,
May
was
not
always
warm
and
sunny
,
and
on
this
particular
morning
a
chill
wind
was
blowing
the
blossoms
from
the
surrounding
gardens
on
to
the
green
mounds
of
Lowick
churchyard
.
Swiftly
moving
clouds
only
now
and
then
allowed
a
gleam
to
light
up
any
object
,
whether
ugly
or
beautiful
,
that
happened
to
stand
within
its
golden
shower
.
In
the
churchyard
the
objects
were
remarkably
various
,
for
there
was
a
little
country
crowd
waiting
to
see
the
funeral
.
The
news
had
spread
that
it
was
to
be
a
"
big
burying
;
"
the
old
gentleman
had
left
written
directions
about
everything
and
meant
to
have
a
funeral
"
beyond
his
betters
.
"
This
was
true
;
for
old
Featherstone
had
not
been
a
Harpagon
whose
passions
had
all
been
devoured
by
the
ever
-
lean
and
ever
-
hungry
passion
of
saving
,
and
who
would
drive
a
bargain
with
his
undertaker
beforehand
.
He
loved
money
,
but
he
also
loved
to
spend
it
in
gratifying
his
peculiar
tastes
,
and
perhaps
he
loved
it
best
of
all
as
a
means
of
making
others
feel
his
power
more
or
less
uncomfortably
.
If
any
one
will
here
contend
that
there
must
have
been
traits
of
goodness
in
old
Featherstone
,
I
will
not
presume
to
deny
this
;
but
I
must
observe
that
goodness
is
of
a
modest
nature
,
easily
discouraged
,
and
when
much
privacy
,
elbowed
in
early
life
by
unabashed
vices
,
is
apt
to
retire
into
extreme
privacy
,
so
that
it
is
more
easily
believed
in
by
those
who
construct
a
selfish
old
gentleman
theoretically
,
than
by
those
who
form
the
narrower
judgments
based
on
his
personal
acquaintance
.
In
any
case
,
he
had
been
bent
on
having
a
handsome
funeral
,
and
on
having
persons
"
bid
"
to
it
who
would
rather
have
stayed
at
home
.
He
had
even
desired
that
female
relatives
should
follow
him
to
the
grave
,
and
poor
sister
Martha
had
taken
a
difficult
journey
for
this
purpose
from
the
Chalky
Flats
.
She
and
Jane
would
have
been
altogether
cheered
(
in
a
tearful
manner
)
by
this
sign
that
a
brother
who
disliked
seeing
them
while
he
was
living
had
been
prospectively
fond
of
their
presence
when
he
should
have
become
a
testator
,
if
the
sign
had
not
been
made
equivocal
by
being
extended
to
Mrs
.
Vincy
,
whose
expense
in
handsome
crape
seemed
to
imply
the
most
presumptuous
hopes
,
aggravated
by
a
bloom
of
complexion
which
told
pretty
plainly
that
she
was
not
a
blood
-
relation
,
but
of
that
generally
objectionable
class
called
wife
’
s
kin
.
