now, unless I choose to tell him," added
Lydgate, with a more peremptory emphasis.

This certainly was unkind, but Rosamond had thrown him back on evil
expectation as to what she would do in the way of quiet steady
disobedience. The unkindness seemed unpardonable to her: she was not
given to weeping and disliked it, but now her chin and lips began to
tremble and the tears welled up. Perhaps it was not possible for
Lydgate, under the double stress of outward material difficulty and of
his own proud resistance to humiliating consequences, to imagine fully
what this sudden trial was to a young creature who had known nothing
but indulgence, and whose dreams had all been of new indulgence, more
exactly to her taste. But he did wish to spare her as much as he
could, and her tears cut him to the heart. He could not speak again
immediately; but Rosamond did not go on sobbing: she tried to conquer
her agitation and wiped away her tears, continuing to look before her
at the mantel-piece.

"Try not to grieve, darling," said Lydgate, turning his eyes up towards
her. That she had chosen to move away from him in this moment of her
trouble made everything harder to say, but he must absolutely go on.
"We must brace ourselves to do what is necessary. It is I who have
been in fault: I ought to have seen that I could not afford-to live in
this way. But many things have told against me in my practice, and it
really just now has ebbed to a low point. I may recover it, but in the
mean time we must pull up--we must change our way of living. We shall
weather it. When I have given this security I shall have time to look
about me; and you are so clever that if you turn your mind to managing
you will school me into carefulness. I have been a thoughtless rascal
about squaring prices--but come, dear, sit down and forgive me."

Lydgate was bowing his neck under the yoke like a creature who had
talons, but who had Reason too, which often reduces us to meekness.
When he had spoken the last words in an imploring tone, Rosamond
returned to the chair by his side. His self-blame gave her some hope
that he would attend to her opinion, and she said--

"Why can you not put off having the inventory made? You can send the
men away to-morrow when they come."

"I shall not send them away," said Lydgate, the peremptoriness rising
again. Was it of any use to explain?

"If we left Middlemarch? there would of course be a sale, and that
would do a