Б

novelist

Sinute and

memorable, as it inspired her with her only historical novel Romola. After Lewes's death she married an old friend of the family, the banker J. W. Cross; but she died in the same year (1880). George Eliot is the greatest 1 of England. Besides giving a realistic description of life and manners, she laid special stress on the evolution and psychological analysis of character, and thus became the founder of the psychological novel. She is unrivalled in the delineation of female characters, such as Dinah Morris the Methodist preacher, pretty Hetty Sorrel, and sententious Mrs. Poyser, the type of a farmer's wife (all in Adam Bede), the clever but stubborn miller's daughter Maggie Tulliver (The Mill on the Floss), or high-minded Romola, the learned helper of her blind father. But her male characters are apt to be either too feminine, like Tito Melema, the young Greek scholar and afterwards husband of Romola, or somewhat too faultless, like Adam Bede the pious and thoughtful carpenter, or Felix Holt the radical workman, or Daniel Deronda the champion of Jewish emancipation. In her first works of fiction, the three tales forming the Scenes of Clerical

Life (1857) and the novels Adam Bede (1859), The Mill on the Floss (1860), and Silas Marner (1861), George Eliot drew largely from recollections of her childhood. For her pictures of country life in all these stories were reproduced from her memories of Arbury; The Sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos Barton, the first of the Scenes, was founded on a real Arbury incident; the characters of Adam Bede and Dinah Morris were modelled after her father and her aunt; the story of little Maggie gave a spiritual biography of herself; and also in the figure of Silas Marner, the embittered solitary weaver, there lingered some childish reminiscence. Her later novels, Romola (1862), Felix Holt (1866), Middlemarch (1872), and Daniel Deronda (1876), are perhaps less spontaneous and more loaded with moral and philosophical speculations, mainly based on Comte's positivism. Romola takes us back to the Florence of the 15th century; but it is less successful as an historical novel than as a study of human character. Her last book was a volume of essays, entitled Impressions of Theophrastus Such (1879), which is greatly inferior to her other work.

Tom was to arrive early in the afternoon, and there was another fluttering heart besides Maggie's when it was late enough for the sound of 6 the gig-wheels to be expected; for if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong feeling it was fondness for her boy. At last the sound came that quick light bowling of the gig-wheels 10 and in spite of the wind, which was blowing the clouds about, and was not likely to respect Mrs. Tulliver's curls and cap-strings, she came outside the door, and even held her 15 hand on Maggie's offending head, forgetting all the griefs of the morning.

"There he is, my sweet lad! But, Lord ha' mercy! he's got never a 20 collar on; it's been lost on the road, I'll be bound, and spoilt the set.'

Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; Maggie jumped first on one leg and then on the other; while Tom descended from the gig, and 25 said, with masculine reticence as to the tender emotions, 'Hallo! Yap what! are you there?'

Nevertheless he submitted to be kissed willingly enough, though Maggie 30 hung on his neck in rather a strangling fashion, while his blue-grey_eyes wandered towards the croft and the lambs and the river, where he promised himself that he would begin 35 to fish the first thing to-morrow morning. He was one of those lads that grow everywhere in England, and, at twelve or thirteen years of age, look as much alike as goslings: 40 - a lad with light-brown hair, cheeks of cream and roses, full lips, in

-

a

determinate nose and eyebrows physiognomy in which it seems im45 possible to discern anything but the generic character of boyhood; as different as possible from poor Maggie's phiz, which Nature seemed to have moulded and coloured with the most 50 decided intention. But that same Nature has the deep cunning which hides itself under the appearance of openness, so that simple people think they can see through her quite well, 55 and all the while she is secretly preparing a refutation of their confident prophecies. Under these average boyish physiognomies that she seems to turn off by the gross, she 60 conceals some of her most rigid, inflexible purposes, some of her most unmodifiable characters; and the darkeyed, demonstrative, rebellious girl may after all turn out to be a pas65 sive being compared with this pinkand-white bit of masculinity with the indeterminate features.

'Maggie,' said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as 70 his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlour had taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, 'you don't know what I've got in my pockets,' nodding his 75 head up and down as a means of rousing her sense of mystery.

'No,' said Maggie. 'How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marls or cobnuts?' Maggie's heart sank a little, 80 because Tom always said it was 'no good' playing with her at those games she played so badly.

'Marls! no; I've swopped all my marls with the little fellows, and cob85 nuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see here!' He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket.

What is it?' said Maggie, in a 90 whisper. 'I can see nothing but a bit of yellow.'

'How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? There's no lions, only in the shows.'

'No; but if we were in the lion countries I mean, in Africa, where it's very hot the lions eat people there. I can show it you in the book where I read it.'

'Well, I should get a gun and shoot him.'

'But if you hadn't got a gun we might have gone out, you know, not thinking just as we go fish170 ing; and then a great lion might run towards us roaring, and we couldn't get away from him. What should you do, Tom?'

Tom paused, and at last turned 175 away contemptuously, saying, 'But the lion isn't coming. What's the use of talking?'

'But I like to fancy how it would be,' said Maggie, following him. 'Just 180 think what you would do, Tom.' 'O don't bother, Maggie! you're such a silly I shall go and see my rabbits."

Maggie's heart began to flutter 185 with fear. She dared not tell the sad truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went out, thinking how she could tell him the news so as to soften

'Tom,' she said, timidly, when they were out of doors, 'how much money 195 did you give for your rabbits?'

"Two half-crowns and a sixpence,' said Tom, promptly.

'I think I've got a great deal more than that in my steel purse 200 up-stairs. I'll ask mother to give it you.'

'What for?' said Tom. I don't want your money, you silly thing. I've got a great deal more money 205 than you, because I'm a boy. I always have half-sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes, because I shall be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because you're 210 only a girl.'

'Well, but, Tom - if mother would let me give you two half-crowns and a sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you 215 know; and buy some more rabbits with it?'

'More rabbits? I don't want any

more.'

220

'O, but Tom, they're all dead.' Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round towards Maggie. 'You forgot to feed 'em, then, and Harry forgot?' he said, his colour heightening for a moment, but soon 225 subsiding. 'I'll pitch into Harry I'll have him turned away. And I don't love you, Maggie. You shan't go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go and see the rabbits 230 every day.' He walked on again.

'Yes, but I forgot- and I couldn't help it, indeed, Tom. I'm so very sorry,' said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.

'You're a naughty girl,' said Tom, severely, 'and I'm sorry I bought you the fish-line. I don't love you.'

235

'O, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break,' said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging to Tom's arm, and laying her wet cheek on his 250 shoulder.

255

Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, 'Now, Maggie, you just listen. Aren't I a good brother to you?'

'Ye-ye-es,' sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly.

'Didn't I think about your fishline all this quarter, and mean to buy it, and saved my money o' pur260 pose, and wouldn't go halves in the toffee, and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn't?' 'Ye-ye-es and I you so, Tom.'

265

lo-lo-love

'But you're a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my lozenge-box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fishline down when I'd set you to watch 270 it, and you pushed your head through my kite, all for nothing.'

'But I didn't mean,' said Maggie; 'I couldn't help it.'

'Yes, you could,' said Tom, if 275 you'd minded what you were doing. And you're a naughty girl, and you shan't go fishing with me to-morrow.'

With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie towards the 280 mill, meaning to greet Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.

Maggie stood motionless, except from her sobs, for a minute or two; then she turned round and ran into 285 the house, and up to her attic, where she sat on the floor, and laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf,

Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea-time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well, then, she would stay up there 315 and starve herself hide herself behind the tub, and stay there all night; and then they would all be frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought in the pride 320 of her heart, as she crept behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that they didn't mind her being there. If she went down again to Tom now would 325 he forgive her? - perhaps her father would be there, and he would take her part. But, then, she wanted Tom to forgive her because he loved her, not because his father told him. No, 330 she would never go down if Tom didn't come to fetch her. This resolution lasted in great intensity for five dark minutes behind the tub; but then the need of being loved, 335 the strongest need in poor Maggie's

nature, began to wrestle with her pride, and soon threw it. She crept from behind her tub into the twilight 840 of the long attic, but just then she heard a quick footstep on the stairs.

Tom had been too much interested in his talk with Luke, in going the round of the premises, walking in 845 and out where he pleased, and whittling sticks without any particular reason, except that he didn't whittle sticks at school, to think of Maggie and the effect his anger had pro850 duced on her. He meant to punish her, and that business having been performed, he occupied himself with other matters, like a practical person. But when he had been called in to 855 tea, his father said, 'Why, where's the little wench?' and Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, 'Where's your little sister?' both of them having supposed that Maggie 360 and Tom had been together all the afternoon.

'I don't know,' said Tom. He didn't want to 'tell' of Maggie, though he was angry with her; for Tom 365 Tulliver was a lad of honour.

'What! hasn't she been playing with you all this while?' said the father. 'She'd been thinking o' nothing but your coming home.' 870 'I haven't seen her this two hours,' says Tom, commencing on the plumcake.

'Goodness heart! she's got drownded,' exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising 875 from her seat and running to the window. How could you let her do so?' she added, as became a fearful woman, accusing she didn't know whom of she didn't know what.

'Perhaps up in that attic,' said Mrs. Tulliver, 'a-singing and talking to herself, and forgetting all about meal-times.'

'You go and fetch her down, Tom,' 390 said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply, his perspicacity or his fatherly fondness for Maggie making him suspect that the lad had been hard upon 'the little un', else she would never have 996 left his side. 'And be good to her, do you hear? Else I'll let you know better.'

Tom never disobeyed his father, for Mr. Tulliver was a peremptory 400 man, and, as he said, would never let anybody get hold of his whiphand; but he went out rather sullenly, carrying his piece of plumcake, and not intending to reprieve Maggie's 405 punishment, which was no more than she deserved. Tom was only thirteen, and had no decided views in grammar and arithmetic, regarding them for the most part as open questions, 410 but he was particularly clear and positive on one point - namely, that he would punish everybody who deserved it: why, he wouldn't have minded being punished himself, if 415 he deserved it; but, then, he never did deserve it.

It was Tom's step, then, that Maggie heard on the stairs, when her need of love had triumphed over 40 her pride, and she was going down with her swollen eyes and dishevelled hair to beg for pity. At least her father would stroke her head and say, 'Never mind, my wench.' It is 426 a wonderful subduer, this need of love this hunger of the heart as peremptory as that other hunger by which Nature forces us to submit to the yoke, and change the face 430 of the world.

But she knew Tom's step, and her heart began to beat violently with the sudden shock of hope. He only