The Three Brothers, Chapters IX-X [pp. 134-138]

1869.] LITERATURE, ScIENGE AND ART 135
outstretched hands. She gave her daughter a reproving glance,
which was not lost upon poor Ben. "Do come in-we had hoped to
see you this evening; but this is quite an unlooked-for pleasure. You
gentlemen are generally so much engaged in the day."
"I have not much to engage me," said Ben; and then he stopped
short, with his heart aching, and gave a piteous look at Millicent,
who was not paying the least attention to him. "If I have come too
soon," he said, "let me return in the evening. I did not mean to disturb you."
" You could not disturb us," said Mrs. Tracy, with her most gracious smile. "If Millicent is too busy to talk, she shall go away and
look after her chiffons, and come back to us when her mind is at rest.
As we are going so soon, I shall be very glad of a little talk with our
kindest friend."
"Oh, very well, mamma," said Millicent; and she got up, with
no softening of her looks. She was vexed that he had come; yet
vexed to go away and leave him with her mother-vexed to see him,
with a feeling of doing him wrong, which Mrs. Tracy's obtuse
faculties were not troubled with. She swept out of the room without
so much as looking at him, and then stood outside, with a thousand
minds to go back. She was not callous, nor cruel, nor without heart,
though she had been brought up to one debasing trade. If she had
never seen him after, it would have made the whole matter practicable; but to know all he had done, and why he had done it; to
see the love-such love!-in his eyes; and to be obliged to be polite and grateful, and no more! Nature rebelled to such an extent in
the young woman's mind that it woke her to sudden alarm-could she
be falling in love with Ben? as her mother said. When that absurd
idea entered her thoughts she turned quickly away, and ran up-stairs
to her room, and went to her packing, leaving her mother to deal with
him. No, not quite-not so ridiculous as that!
"Have I offended her?" said Ben. "Is she angry with me
for my-presumption? What have I done to make her go
away?"
"Nothing, my dear friend," said Mrs. Tracy, taking his hand, and
pressing it; "nothing but the kindest, the noblest action. Oh, Mr.
Renton, you must not be hard upon my poor child! She feels your
generosity so much, and she feels our miserable position so muchand, in short, it is a conflict of pride and gratitude-"
"Gratitude!" said Ben, sadly. "Ah, how ill you judge me-as
if I wanted gratitude! I wish I had wealth to pour at her feet. I
wish I could give her- But that is folly. Has she not a word to
say to me, after all?"
What he meant by "after all," was, after the opening of his heart,
after the pouring forth of his love. But to Mrs. Tracy it meant after
the hundred pounds; and here was a way of making an end of him
very ready to her hands.
"Mr. Renton," she said, with an assumption of dignity which sat
very well, and looked natural enough, "it was my doing, accepting it,
-it was not Millicent's doing. I thought it was offered out of kindness and friendship. Any one, almost, would pity two women left
alone as we were; and I accepted it, as I thought, in the spirit it
was offered; but if I had thought it was a price for my child's affections-"
Ben turned away, sickening at her, as she spoke to him. "Bah!"
he said, half aloud in his disgust. He would not condescend to explain. He turned half round to the door, and gazed at it in an uncertain
pause. Millicent might come back. When he thought of it, mothers
were-or books were liars-all miserable, bargaining creatures like
this. He would not take the trouble to discuss it with her. If he
had not been so weary and worn-out and sick at heart he would not
have been thus uncivil. But he said to himself that he could not help
it, and turned impatiently away.
"Ah! I thought it was not so-I felt sure it was not so!" cried
Mrs. Tracy, recovering herself as her mistake became apparent.
"Dear Mr. Renton, sit down, and let us talk it over. Forgive a
mother's jealous care. But let me thank you first-"
"I don't want any thanks," said Ben, with a certain sullenness, as
he sat down at her bidding on the nearest chair.
"For my life," said Mrs. Tracy, looking him calmly in the face.
" Yes, it was as serious as that. Not that I care much for my life,
except for Millicent's sake. It has no more charms nor hopes for me,
Mr. Renton! But I could not die until I see her in better hands than
mine. Don't be angry with me. You asked her-you offered her
What was it, in reality, that passed between you yesterday? My darling was too much agitated to know."
"I had nothing to offer," said Ben, with sullen disgust. To pour
out his heart to Millicent, and to make his confession thus to her
mother, were two very different things. "I am penniless and disinherited. I had to tell her so. Nothing but what I might be able
to make as a day-laborer, perhaps," he went on, with angry vehemence. "Whatever folly I said, she has apparently no answer to
give."
"In such a case, Mr. Renton," said Mrs. Tracy, facing him, "it is
not my daughter who has to be consulted, but me."
He had given her an advantage by his ill-breeding, and now he
had to rouse himself, and turn round to her and mutter some prayer
for pardon. He was in the wrong. As this flashed upon him his
color rose. Had he spoken as he said it would have been an insult.
It was an insult the way in which he was addressing her mother
now.
"Mr. Renton," she said, "I have put myself into a false position
by taking your money; and what is life itself in comparison with
one's true character? I cannot let you despise Millicent's mother.
Here it is; you shal have it back."
"Mrs. Tracy, forgive me, for heaven's sake! I did not know what
I was saying," cried Ben.
"There it is," said his opponent, laying the pocket-book on the
table between them. "Now I can speak. Millicent is an innocent
girl, Mr. Renton. She is not one of the kind who fall in love without being asked. Probably, now that she knows you love her, she
might learn to love you if you were thrown together. But, after the
honorable way in which you have told me what your position is, I
cannot permit that. I will speak to you quite frankly. If things had
been different I should have been on your side; but I cannot let
my child marry a man with nothing. She is too sensitive, too finely
organized, too-I cannot suffer it, Mr. Renton. That is the honest
truth. We are going away, and you may not meet again, perhaps."
"That is impossible," said Ben, with a firmness of resolution which
made her pause in her speech. He spoke so low that it might have
been to himself, but she heard it, and it startled her much.
"I will not let her marry a poor man," cried Mrs. Tracy, with
the violence of alarm, "whatever comes bf it. A girl who may marry
anybody! She must make a good marriage. She must have comfort.
She must have what she has been used to," the woman cried in agitation, with a certain gloomy irony. She was afraid of him, not knowing that he might not put his hand across the table, and clutch his
money back.
"Good; I will work for that," said Ben. "She shall have it.
It is only a question of time. What more? What do you want
more?"
"What do I want?" cried Mrs. Tracy, "Is that how you speak to
a lady, Mr. Renton? I want a great deal more. I want position and
respect for my Millicent, and civility, at least, for myself."
Benr got up and went and made a gloomy survey of the room, round
and round, after the fashion of men, and then he came back to the
point he had started from.
"I did not mean to be rude," he said; "I beg your pardon. I have
spoken to you like an ass. I feel I have; but it is you who have
the better of me. Put away that rubbish, for heaven's sake, if you
would not drive me mad! I don't suppose she cares for me-how
should she? I'll go to work and take myself out of the way to-morrow. Only promise me to wait-wait till you see how I get on. You
can't tell what progress I may make. If I do well you have nothing
against me-you said so this minute. Wait and see."
"And let my child sacrifice her youth-for what?" cried Mrs.
Tracy. "Oh, my dear Mr. Renton, things are harder than you
think! You don't know what you say."
"Perhaps I don't," said Ben; "perhaps I do. Neither of us
know. Give me your word to this, at least-that nothing shall be
done without telling me; nothing shall happen before I know."
"Oh, what am I to do? " said Mrs. Tracy. "Hoow can I make
such an engagement? As if I should be sure to know even beforeany thing happened! I will do what I can. You know I wish you
well."
"You will promise to let me know before-you bind her to any
other," Ben repeated, bending over the little table which stood
between them, to look into her face. She thought it was to take up
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