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night； and the dark wall opposite the window shuts out
the moonlight that might have struggled with the light of the one
dip candle by which Bartle Massey is pretending to read； while he
is really looking over his spectacles at Adam Bede； seated near the
dark window。
You would hardly have known it was Adam without being told。
His face has got thinner this last week： he has the sunken eyes； the
neglected beard of a man just risen from a sick…bed。 His heavy
black hair hangs over his forehead； and there is no active impulse
in him which inclines him to push it off； that he may be more
awake to what is around him。 He has one arm over the back of the
chair； and he seems to be looking down at his clasped hands。 He is
roused by a knock at the door。
“There he is；” said Bartle Massey； rising hastily and
unfastening the door。 It was Mr。 Irwine。
Adam rose from his chair with instinctive respect； as Mr。 Irwine
approached him and took his hand。
“I’m late； Adam；” he said； sitting down on the chair which
Bartle placed for him； “but I was later in setting off from Broxton
than I intended to be； and I have been incessantly occupied since I
arrived。 I have done everything now； however—everything that
can be done to…night； at least。 Let us all sit down。”
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Adam took his chair again mechanically； and Bartle； for whom
there was no chair remaining； sat on the bed in the background。
“Have you seen her； sir？” said Adam tremulously。
“Yes； Adam； I and the chaplain have both been with her this
evening。”
“Did you ask her； sir 。 。 。 did you say anything about me？”
“Yes；” said Mr。 Irwine； with some hesitation； “I spoke of you。 I
said you wished to see her before the trial； if she consented。”
As Mr。 Irwine paused； Adam looked at him with eager；
questioning eyes。
“You know she shrinks from seeing any one； Adam。 It is not
only you—some fatal influence seems to have shut up her heart
against her fellow…creatures。 She has scarcely said anything more
than ‘No’ either to me or the chaplain。 Three or four days ago；
before you were mentioned to her； when I asked her if there was
any one of her family whom she would like to see—to whom she
could open her mind—she said； with a violent shudder； ‘Tell them
not to come near me—I won’t see any of them。’”
Adam’s head was hanging down again； and he did not speak。
There was silence for a few minutes； and then Mr。 Irwine said； “I
don’t like to advise you against your own feelings； Adam； if they
now urge you strongly to go and see her to…morrow morning； even
without her consent。 It is just possible； notwithstanding
appearances to the contrary； that the interview might affect her
favourably。 But I grieve to say I have scarcely any hope of that。
She didn’t seem agitated when I mentioned your name； she only
said ‘No；’ in the same cold； obstinate way as usual。 And if the
meeting had no good effect on her； it would be pure； useless
suffering to you—severe suffering； I fear。 She is very much
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changed 。 。 。 ”
Adam started up from his chair and seized his hat； which lay on
the table。 But he stood still then； and looked at Mr。 Irwine； as if he
had a question to ask which it was yet difficult to utter。 Bartle
Massey rose quietly； turned the key in the door； and put it in his
pocket。
“Is he come back？” said Adam at last。
“No； he is not；” said Mr。 Irwine； quietly。 “Lay down your hat；
Adam； unless you like to walk out with me for a little fresh air。 I
fear you have not been out again to…day。”
“You needn’t deceive me； sir；” said Adam； looking hard at Mr。
Irwine and speaking in a tone of angry suspicion。 “You needn’t be
afraid of me。 I only want justice。 I want him to feel what she feels。
It’s his work 。 。 。 she was a child as it ’ud ha’ gone t’ anybody’s
heart to look at 。 。 。 I don’t care what she’s done 。 。 。 it was him
brought her to it。 And he shall know it 。 。 。 he shall feel it 。 。 。 if
there’s a just God； he shall feel what it is t’ ha’ brought a child like
her to sin and misery。”
“I’m not deceiving you； Adam；” said Mr。 Irwine。 “Arthur
Donnithorne is not come back—was not come back when I left。 I
have left a letter for him： he will know all as soon as he arrives。”
“But you don’t mind about it；” said Adam indignantly。 “You
think it doesn’t matter as she lies there in shame and misery； and
he knows nothing about it—he suffers nothing。”
“Adam； he will know—he will suffer； long and bitterly。 He has a
heart and a conscience： I can’t be entirely deceived in his
character。 I am convinced—I am sure he didn’t fall under
temptation without a struggle。 He may be weak； but he is not
callous； not coldly selfish。 I am persuaded that this will be a shock
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of which he will feel the effects all his life。 Why do you crave
vengeance in this way？ No amount of torture that you could inflict
on him could benefit her。”
“No—O God； no；” Adam groaned out； sinking on his chair
again； “but then； that’s the deepest curse of all 。 。 。 that’s what
makes the blackness of it 。 。 。 it can never be undone。 My poor Hetty
。 。 。 she can never be my sweet Hetty again 。 。 。 the prettiest thing
God had made—smiling up at me 。 。 。 I thought she loved me 。 。 。
and was good 。 。 。 ”
Adam’s voice had been gradually sinking into a hoarse
undertone； as if he were only talking to himself； but now he said
abruptly； looking at Mr。 Irwine； “But she isn’t as guilty as they
say？ You don’t think she is； sir？ She can’t ha’ done it。”
“That perhaps can never be known with certainty； Adam；” Mr。
Irwine answered gently。 “In these cases we sometimes form our
judgment on what seems to us strong evidence； and yet； for want
of knowing some small fact； our judgment is wrong。 But suppose
the worst： you have no right to say that the guilt of her crime lies
with him； and that he ought to bear the punishment。 It is not for us
men to apportion the shares of moral guilt and retribution。 We
find it impossible to avoid mistakes even in determining who has
committed a single criminal act； and the problem how far a man is
to be held responsible for the unforeseen consequences of his own
deed is one that might well make us tremble to look into it。 The
evil consequences that may lie folded in a single act of selfish
indulgence is a thought so awful that it ought surely to awaken
some feeling less presumptuous than a rash desire to punish。 You
have a mind that can understand this fully； Adam； when you are
calm。 Don’t suppose I can’t enter into the anguish that drives you
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into this state of revengeful hatred。 But think of this： if you were to
obey your passion—for it is passion； and you deceive yourself in
calling it justice—it might be with you precisely as it has been with
Arthur； nay； worse； your passion might lead you yourself into a
horrible crime。”
“No—not worse；” said Adam； bitterly； “I don’t believe it’s
worse—I’d sooner do it—I’d sooner do a wickedn