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MIDDLEMARCH-Part97_GEORGE ELIOT(1819-1880)_English Literature(文学)-第2页

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Bad work like this dispelled all Caleb's mildness.

"The deuce!" he exclaimed, snarlingly. "To think that this is



a country where a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds,

and it turns you out this!" Then in a more pathetic tone,



pushing up his spectacles and looking at the unfortunate scribe,

"The Lord have mercy on us, Fred, I can't put up with this!"



"What can I do, Mr. Garth?" said Fred, whose spirits had sunk very low,

not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision



of himself as liable to be ranked with office clerks.

"Do? Why, you must learn to form your letters and keep the line.



What's the use of writing at all if nobody can understand it?"

asked Caleb, energetically, quite preoccupied with the bad quality



of the work. "Is there so little business in the world that you must

be sending puzzles over the country? But that's the way people are



brought up. I should lose no end of time with the letters some people

send me, if Susan did not make them out for me. It's disgusting."



Here Caleb tossed the paper from him.

Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might have



wondered what was the drama between the indignant man of business,

and the fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting



rather patchy as he bit his lip with mortification. Fred was struggling

with many thoughts. Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at



the beginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had

been at a high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate. He had not



thought of desk-work--in fact, like the majority of young gentlemen,

he wanted an occupation which should be free from disagreeables.



I cannot tell what might have been the consequences if he had not

distinctly promised himself that he would go to Lowick to see



Mary and tell her that he was engaged to work under her father.

He did not like to disappoint himself there.



"I am very sorry," were all the words that he could muster.

But Mr. Garth was already relenting.



"We must make the best of it, Fred," he began, with a return to his

usual quiet tone. "Every man can learn to write. I taught myself.



Go at it with a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isn't enough.

We'll be patient, my boy. Callum shall go on with the books



for a bit, while you are learning. But now I must be off,"

said Caleb, rising. "You must let your father know our agreement.



You'll save me Callum's salary, you know, when you can write;

and I can afford to give you eighty pounds for the first year,



and more after."

When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relative



effect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into

his memory. He went straight from Mr. Garth's office to the warehouse,



rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behave to

his father was to make the painfulcommunication as gravely and formally



as possible. Moreover, the decision would be more certainly understood

to be final, if the interview took place in his father's gravest



hours, which were always those spent in his private room at the warehouse.

Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what he



had done and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret

that he should be the cause of disappointment to his father,



and taking the blame on his own deficiencies. The regret was genuine,

and inspired Fred with strong, simple words.



Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even

an exclamation, a silence which in his impatienttemperament was a sign



of unusualemotion. He had not been in good spirits about trade

that morning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense



as he listened. When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly

a minute, during which Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned



the key emphatically. Then he looked at his son steadily, and said--

"So you've made up your mind at last, sir?"



"Yes, father."

"Very well; stick to it. I've no more to say. You've thrown away



your education, and gone down a step in life, when I had given you

the means of rising, that's all."



"I am very sorry that we differ, father. I think I can be quite

as much of a gentleman at the work I have undertaken, as if I had



been a curate. But I am grateful to you for wishing to do the best

for me."






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