“Go on. Let us hear what way.”
“I could be apprenticed to your trade – the cloth-trade. I could learn it of you, as we are distant relations. I would do the counting house work, keep the books, and write the letters, while you went to market. I know you greatly desire to be rich, in order to pay your father’s debts; perhaps I could help you to get rich.”
“Help me? You should think of yourself.”
“I do think of myself; but must one forever think only of oneself?”
“Of whom else do I think? Of whom else dare I think? The poor ought to have no large sympathies; it is their duty to be narrow.”
“No, Robert”
“Yes, Caroline. Poverty is necessarily selfish, contracted, grovelling, anxious. Now and then a poor man’s heart, when certain beams and dews visit it, may smell like the budding vegetation in yonder garden on this spring day, may feel ripe to evolve in foliage, perhaps blossom; but he must not encourage the pleasant impulse; he must invoke Prudence to check it, with that frosty breath of hers, which is as nipping as any north wind.”
“No cottage would be happy then.”
“When I speak of poverty, I do not so much mean the natural, habitual poverty of the working-man, as the embarrassed penury of the man in debt. My grubworm is always a straitened, struggling, careworn tradesman.”
“Cherish hope, not anxiety. Certain ideas have become too fixed in your mind. It may be presumptuous to say it, but I have the impression that there is something wrong in your notions of the best means of attaining happiness, as there is in…” Second hesitation.
“I am all ear, Caroline.”
“In (courage! let me speak the truth) – in your manner – mind, I say only manner – to these Yorkshire workpeople.”
“You have often wanted to tell me that, have you not?”
“Yes; often – very often.”
“The faults of my manner are, I think, only negative. I am not proud. What has a man in my position to be proud of? I am only taciturn, phlegmatic, and joyless.”
“As if your living cloth-dressers were all machines like your frames and shears. In your own house you seem different.”
“To those of my own house I am no alien, which I am to these English clowns. I might act the benevolent with them, but acting is not my forte. I find them irrational, perverse; they hinder me when I long to hurry forward. In treating them justly I fulfil my whole duty towards them.”