“What does all this mean, Mrs Tulliver?” said Mr Wakem rather sharply. “What do you want to ask me?”
“Why, sir, if you’ll be so good,” said Mrs Tulliver, starting a little, and speaking more hurriedly,—“if you’ll be so good not to buy the mill an’ the land,—the land wouldn’t so much matter, only my husband ull’ be like mad at your having it.”
Something like a new thought flashed across Mr Wakem’s face as he said, “Who told you I meant to buy it?”
“Why, sir, it’s none o’ my inventing, and I should never ha’ thought of it; for my husband, as ought to know about the law, he allays used to say as lawyers had never no call to buy anything,—either lands or houses,—for they allays got ’em into their hands other ways. An’ I should think that ’ud be the way with you, sir; and I niver said as you’d be the man to do contrairy to that.”
“Ah, well, who was it that did say so?” said Wakem, opening his desk, and moving things about, with the accompaniment of an almost inaudible whistle.
“Why, sir, it was Mr Glegg and Mr Deane, as have all the management; and Mr Deane thinks as Guest & Co. ’ud buy the mill and let Mr Tulliver work it for ’em, if you didn’t bid for it and raise the price. And it ’ud be such a thing for my husband to stay where he is, if he could get his living: for it was his father’s before him, the mill was, and his grandfather built it, though I wasn’t fond o’ the noise of it, when first I was married, for there was no mills in our family,—not the Dodson’s,—and if I’d known as the mills had so much to do with the law, it wouldn’t have been me as ’ud have been the first Dodson to marry one; but I went into it blindfold, that I did, erigation and everything.”
“What! Guest & Co. would keep the mill in their own hands, I suppose, and pay your husband wages?”
“Oh dear, sir, it’s hard to think of,” said poor Mrs Tulliver, a little tear making its way, “as my husband should take wage. But it ’ud look more like what used to be, to stay at the mill than to go anywhere else; and if you’ll only think—if you was to bid for the mill and buy it, my husband might be struck worse than he was before, and niver get better again as he’s getting now.”
“Well, but if I bought the mill, and allowed your husband to act as my manager in the same way, how then?” said Mr Wakem.
“Oh, sir, I doubt he could niver be got to do it, not if the very mill stood still to beg and pray of him. For your name’s like poison to him, it’s so as never was; and he looks upon it as you’ve been the ruin of him all along, ever since you set the law on him about the road through the meadow,—that’s eight year ago, and he’s been going on ever since—as I’ve allays told him he was wrong——”