MIDDLEMARCH (Completed)

Chapter 14

"Follows here the strict receipt

For that sauce to dainty meat,

Named Idleness, which many eat

By preference, and call it sweet:

First watch for morsels, like a hound

Mix well with buffets, stir them round

With good thick oil of flatteries,

And froth with mean self-lauding lies.

Serve warm: the vessels you must choose

To keep it in are dead men's shoes."

Mr. Bulstrode's consultation of Harriet seemed to have had the effect

desired by Mr. Vincy, for early the next morning a letter came

which Fred could carry to Mr. Featherstone as the required testimony.

The old gentleman was staying in bed on account of the cold weather,

and as Mary Garth was not to be seen in the sitting-room, Fred

went up-stairs immediately and presented the letter to his uncle,

who, propped up comfortably on a bed-rest, was not less able than

usual to enjoy his consciousness of wisdom in distrusting and

frustrating mankind. He put on his spectacles to read the letter,

pursing up his lips and drawing down their corners.

"Under the circumstances I will not decline to state my conviction--

tchah! what fine words the fellow puts! He's as fine as an auctioneer--

that your son Frederic has not obtained any advance of money

on bequests promised by Mr. Featherstone--promised? who said I

had ever promised? I promise nothing--I shall make codicils as long

as I like--and that considering the nature of such a proceeding,

it is unreasonable to presume that a young man of sense and character

would attempt it--ah, but the gentleman doesn't say you are a

young man of sense and character, mark you that, sir!--As to my own

concern with any report of such a nature, I distinctly affirm that I

never made any statement to the effect that your son had borrowed money

on any property that might accrue to him on Mr. Featherstone's demise--

bless my heart! 'property'--accrue--demise! Lawyer Standish is

nothing to him. He couldn't speak finer if he wanted to borrow.

Well," Mr. Featherstone here looked over his spectacles at Fred,

while he handed back the letter to him with a contemptuous gesture, "you

don't suppose I believe a thing because Bulstrode writes it out fine, eh?"

Fred colored. "You wished to have the letter, sir. I should

think it very likely that Mr. Bulstrode's denial is as good

as the authority which told you what he denies."

"Every bit. I never said I believed either one or the other.