the worst opinion in the town about Bulstrode were a true one, that would not make it less true that he has the sense and the resolution to do what I think ought to be done in the matters I know and care most about; but that is the only ground on which I go with him,” Lydgate added rather proudly, bearing in mind Mr Farebrother’s remarks. “He is nothing to me otherwise; I would not cry him up on any personal ground—I would keep clear of that.”
“Do you mean that I cry up Brooke on any personal ground?” said Will Ladislaw, nettled, and turning sharp round. For the first time he felt offended with Lydgate; not the less so, perhaps, because he would have declined any close inquiry into the growth of his relation to Mr Brooke.
“Not at all,” said Lydgate, “I was simply explaining my own action. I meant that a man may work for a special end with others whose motives and general course are equivocal, if he is quite sure of his personal independence, and that he is not working for his private interest—either place or money.”
“Then, why don’t you extend your liberality to others?” said Will, still nettled. “My personal independence is as important to me as yours is to you. You have no more reason to imagine that I have personal expectations from Brooke, than I have to imagine that you have personal expectations from Bulstrode. Motives are points of honour, I suppose—nobody can prove them. But as to money and place in the world,” Will ended, tossing back his head, “I think it is pretty clear that I am not determined by considerations of that sort.”
“You quite mistake me, Ladislaw,” said Lydgate, surprised. He had been preoccupied with his own vindication, and had been blind to what Ladislaw might infer on his own account. “I beg your pardon for unintentionally annoying you. In fact, I should rather attribute to you a romantic disregard of your own worldly interests. On the political question, I referred simply to intellectual bias.”
“How very unpleasant you both are this evening?” said Rosamond. “I cannot conceive why money should have been referred to. Politics and medicine are sufficiently disagreeable to quarrel upon. You can both of you go on quarrelling with all the world and with each other on those two topics.”
Rosamond looked mildly neutral as she said this, rising to ring the bell, and then crossing to her work-table.
“Poor Rosy!” said Lydgate, putting out his hand to her as she was passing him. “Disputation is not amusing to cherubs. Have some music. Ask Ladislaw to sing with you.”
When Will was gone Rosamond said to her husband, “What put you out of temper this evening, Tertius?”
“Me? It was Ladislaw who was out of temper. He is like a bit of tinder.”
“But I mean, before that. Something had vexed you before you came in, you looked cross. And that made you begin to dispute
