“I am much obliged to you for giving me full
notice,” he said, with a firm intention in his
tone, yet with an interruptedness in his delivery
which showed that he spoke unwillingly. “The
highest object to me is my profession, and I had identified
the Hospital with the best use I can at present make
of my profession. But the best use is not always
the same with monetary success. Everything which
has made the Hospital unpopular has helped with other
causes— I think they are all connected
with my professional zeal—to make me unpopular
as a practitioner. I get chiefly patients who
can’t pay me. I should like them best,
if I had nobody to pay on my own side.”
Lydgate waited a little, but Bulstrode only bowed,
looking at him fixedly, and he went on with the same
interrupted enunciation— as if he were
biting an objectional leek.
“I have slipped into money difficulties which
I can see no way out of, unless some one who trusts
me and my future will advance me a sum without other
security. I had very little fortune left when
I came here. I have no prospects of money from
my own family. My expenses, in consequence of
my marriage, have been very much greater than I had
expected. The result at this moment is that it
would take a thousand pounds to clear me. I mean,
to free me from the risk of having all my goods sold
in security of my largest debt— as well
as to pay my other debts—and leave anything
to keep us a little beforehand with our small income.
I find that it is out of the question that my wife’s
father should make such an advance. That is why
I mention my position to—to the only other
man who may be held to have some personal connection
with my prosperity or ruin.”
Lydgate hated to hear himself. But he had spoken
now, and had spoken with unmistakable directness.
Mr. Bulstrode replied without haste, but also without
hesitation.
“I am grieved, though, I confess, not surprised
by this information, Mr. Lydgate. For my own
part, I regretted your alliance with my brother-in-law’s
family, which has always been of prodigal habits,
and which has already been much indebted to me for
sustainment in its present position. My advice
to you, Mr. Lydgate, would be, that instead of involving
yourself in further obligations, and continuing a
doubtful struggle, you should simply become a bankrupt.”
“That would not improve my prospect,”
said Lydgate, rising and speaking bitterly, “even
if it were a more agreeable thing in itself.”
“It is always a trial,” said Mr. Bulstrode;
“but trial, my dear sir, is our portion here,
and is a needed corrective. I recommend you
to weigh the advice I have given.”
“Thank you,” said Lydgate, not quite knowing
what he said. “I have occupied you too
long. Good-day.”
