["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Clown. . . . 'Twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed,\n            you have a delight to sit, have you not? Froth. I have so: because it is an open room, and good for winter. Clo. Why, very well then: I hope here be truths. --Measure for Measure. Five days after the death of Raffles, Mr. Bambridge was standing at his\nleisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green\nDragon. He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he had only\njust come out of the house, and any human figure standing at ease under\nthe archway in the early afternoon was as certain to attract\ncompanionship as a pigeon which has found something worth pecking at. In this case there was no material object to feed upon, but the eye of\nreason saw a probability of mental sustenance in the shape of gossip. Mr. Hopkins, the meek-mannered draper opposite, was the first to act on\nthis inward vision, being the more ambitious of a little masculine talk\nbecause his customers were chiefly women. Mr. Bambridge was rather\ncurt to the draper, feeling that Hopkins was of course glad to talk to\n_him_, but that he was not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins. Soon, however, there was a small cluster of more important listeners,\nwho were either deposited from the passers-by, or had sauntered to the\nspot expressly to see if there were anything going on at the Green\nDragon; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many\nimpressive things about the fine studs he had been seeing and the\npurchases he had made on a journey in the north from which he had just\nreturned. Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him\nanything to cut out a blood mare, a bay, rising four, which was to be\nseen at Doncaster if they chose to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge\nwould gratify them by being shot \"from here to Hereford.\" Also, a pair\nof blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly to\nhis mind a pair which he had sold to Faulkner in '19, for a hundred\nguineas, and which Faulkner had sold for a hundred and sixty two months\nlater--any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the\nprivilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the\nexercise made his throat dry. When the discourse was at this point of animation, came up Mr. Frank\nHawley. He was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the\nGreen Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing\nBambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to\nask the horsedealer whether he had found the first-rate gig-horse which\nhe had engaged to look for. Mr. Hawley was requested to wait until he\nhad seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to\na hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to\nbe the highest conceivable unlikelihood. Mr. Hawley, standing with his\nback to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the gray and\nseeing it tried, when a horseman passed slowly by. \"Bulstrode!\" said two or three voices at once in a low tone, one of\nthem, which was the draper's, respectfully prefixing the \"Mr.;\" but\nnobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they\nhad said \"the Riverston coach\" when that vehicle appeared in the\ndistance. Mr. Hawley gave a careless glance round at Bulstrode's back,\nbut as Bambridge's eyes followed it he made a sarcastic grimace. \"By jingo! that reminds me,\" he began, lowering his voice a little, \"I\npicked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse, Mr. Hawley. I picked up a fine story about Bulstrode. Do you know how he came by\nhis fortune? Any gentleman wanting a bit of curious information, I can\ngive it him free of expense. If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode\nmight have had to say his prayers at Botany Bay.\" \"What do you mean?\" said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his hands into his\npockets, and pushing a little forward under the archway. If Bulstrode\nshould turn out to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul. \"I had it from a party who was an old chum of Bulstrode's. I'll tell\nyou where I first picked him up,\" said Bambridge, with a sudden gesture\nof his fore-finger. \"He was at Larcher's sale, but I knew nothing of\nhim then--he slipped through my fingers--was after Bulstrode, no\ndoubt. He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his\nsecrets. However, he blabbed to me at Bilkley: he takes a stiff glass. Damme if I think he meant to turn king's evidence; but he's that sort\nof bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him,\ntill he'd brag of a spavin as if it 'ud fetch money. A man should know\nwhen to pull up.\" Mr. Bambridge made this remark with an air of\ndisgust, satisfied that his own bragging showed a fine sense of the\nmarketable. \"What's the man's name? Where can he be found?\" said Mr. Hawley. \"As to where he is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracen's Head;\nbut his name is Raffles.\" \"Raffles!\" exclaimed Mr. Hopkins. \"I furnished his funeral yesterday. He was buried at Lowick. Mr. Bulstrode followed him. A very decent\nfuneral.\" There was a strong sensation among the listeners. Mr.\nBambridge gave an ejaculation in which \"brimstone\" was the mildest\nword, and Mr. Hawley, knitting his brows and bending his head forward,\nexclaimed, \"What?--where did the man die?\" \"At Stone Court,\" said the draper. \"The housekeeper said he was a\nrelation of the master's. He came there ill on Friday.\" \"Why, it was on Wednesday I took a glass with him,\" interposed\nBambridge. \"Did any doctor attend him?\" said Mr. Hawley\n\n\"Yes. Mr. Lydgate. Mr. Bulstrode sat up with him one night. He died\nthe third morning.\" \"Go on, Bambridge,\" said Mr. Hawley, insistently. \"What did this\nfellow say about Bulstrode?\" The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a\nguarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr.\nBambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven. It was\nmainly what we know, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some\nlocal color and circumstance added: it was what Bulstrode had dreaded\nthe betrayal of--and hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of\nRaffles--it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he\nrode past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that\nProvidence had delivered him from. Yes, Providence. He had not\nconfessed to himself yet that he had done anything in the way of\ncontrivance to this end; he had accepted what seemed to have been\noffered. It was impossible to prove that he had done anything which\nhastened the departure of that man's soul. But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the\nsmell of fire. Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending\na clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court on a pretext of inquiring\nabout hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles\nand his illness from Mrs. Abel. In this way it came to his knowledge\nthat Mr. Garth had carried the man to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr.\nHawley in consequence took an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at\nhis office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it\nwere required, and then asking him incidentally about Raffles. Caleb\nwas betrayed into no word injurious to Bulstrode beyond the fact which\nhe was forced to admit, that he had given up acting for him within the\nlast week. Mr Hawley drew his inferences, and feeling convinced that\nRaffles had told his story to Garth, and that Garth had given up\nBulstrode's affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr.\nToller. The statement was passed on until it had quite lost the stamp\nof an inference, and was taken as information coming straight from\nGarth, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to\nbe the chief publisher of Bulstrode's misdemeanors. Mr. Hawley was not slow to perceive that there was no handle for the\nlaw either in the revelations made by Raffles or in the circumstances\nof his death.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-02 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He had himself ridden to Lowick village that he might\nlook at the register and talk over the whole matter with Mr.\nFarebrother, who was not more surprised than the lawyer that an ugly\nsecret should have come to light about Bulstrode, though he had always\nhad justice enough in him to hinder his antipathy from turning into\nconclusions. But while they were talking another combination was\nsilently going forward in Mr. Farebrother's mind, which foreshadowed\nwhat was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary\n\"putting of two and two together.\" With the reasons which kept\nBulstrode in dread of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread\nmight have something to do with his munificence towards his medical\nman; and though he resisted the suggestion that it had been consciously\naccepted in any way as a bribe, he had a foreboding that this\ncomplication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgate's\nreputation. He perceived that Mr. Hawley knew nothing at present of\nthe sudden relief from debt, and he himself was careful to glide away\nfrom all approaches towards the subject. \"Well,\" he said, with a deep breath, wanting to wind up the illimitable\ndiscussion of what might have been, though nothing could be legally\nproven, \"it is a strange story. So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer\ngenealogy! A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot\nmade a likely enough stock for him to spring from, but I should never\nhave suspected a grafting of the Jew pawnbroker. However, there's no\nknowing what a mixture will turn out beforehand. Some sorts of dirt\nserve to clarify.\" \"It's just what I should have expected,\" said Mr. Hawley, mounting his\nhorse. \"Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy.\" \"I know he's one of your black sheep, Hawley. But he is really a\ndisinterested, unworldly fellow,\" said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. \"Ay, ay, that is your Whiggish twist,\" said Mr. Hawley, who had been in\nthe habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned\npleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a Tory. Mr. Hawley rode home without thinking of Lydgate's attendance on\nRaffles in any other light than as a piece of evidence on the side of\nBulstrode. But the news that Lydgate had all at once become able not\nonly to get rid of the execution in his house but to pay all his debts\nin Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering round it conjectures and\ncomments which gave it new body and impetus, and soon filling the ears\nof other persons besides Mr. Hawley, who were not slow to see a\nsignificant relation between this sudden command of money and\nBulstrode's desire to stifle the scandal of Raffles. That the money\ncame from Bulstrode would infallibly have been guessed even if there\nhad been no direct evidence of it; for it had beforehand entered into\nthe gossip about Lydgate's affairs, that neither his father-in-law nor\nhis own family would do anything for him, and direct evidence was\nfurnished not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by innocent Mrs.\nBulstrode herself, who mentioned the loan to Mrs. Plymdale, who\nmentioned it to her daughter-in-law of the house of Toller, who\nmentioned it generally. The business was felt to be so public and\nimportant that it required dinners to feed it, and many invitations\nwere just then issued and accepted on the strength of this scandal\nconcerning Bulstrode and Lydgate; wives, widows, and single ladies took\ntheir work and went out to tea oftener than usual; and all public\nconviviality, from the Green Dragon to Dollop's, gathered a zest which\ncould not be won from the question whether the Lords would throw out\nthe Reform Bill. For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at\nthe bottom of Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. Mr. Hawley indeed, in\nthe first instance, invited a select party, including the two\nphysicians, with Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close\ndiscussion as to the probabilities of Raffles's illness, reciting to\nthem all the particulars which had been gathered from Mrs. Abel in\nconnection with Lydgate's certificate, that the death was due to\ndelirium tremens; and the medical gentlemen, who all stood\nundisturbedly on the old paths in relation to this disease, declared\nthat they could see nothing in these particulars which could be\ntransformed into a positive ground of suspicion. But the moral grounds\nof suspicion remained: the strong motives Bulstrode clearly had for\nwishing to be rid of Raffles, and the fact that at this critical moment\nhe had given Lydgate the help which he must for some time have known\nthe need for; the disposition, moreover, to believe that Bulstrode\nwould be unscrupulous, and the absence of any indisposition to believe\nthat Lydgate might be as easily bribed as other haughty-minded men when\nthey have found themselves in want of money. Even if the money had\nbeen given merely to make him hold his tongue about the scandal of\nBulstrode's earlier life, the fact threw an odious light on Lydgate,\nwho had long been sneered at as making himself subservient to the\nbanker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and\ndiscrediting the elder members of his profession. Hence, in spite of\nthe negative as to any direct sign of guilt in relation to the death at\nStone Court, Mr. Hawley's select party broke up with the sense that the\naffair had \"an ugly look.\" But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was enough to\nkeep up much head-shaking and biting innuendo even among substantial\nprofessional seniors, had for the general mind all the superior power\nof mystery over fact. Everybody liked better to conjecture how the\nthing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more\nconfident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the\nincompatible. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrode's\nearlier life was, for some minds, melted into the mass of mystery, as\nso much lively metal to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such\nfantastic shapes as heaven pleased. This was the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. Dollop, the\nspirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had often to\nresist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that their\nreports from the outer world were of equal force with what had \"come\nup\" in her mind. How it had been brought to her she didn't know, but\nit was there before her as if it had been \"scored with the chalk on the\nchimney-board--\" as Bulstrode should say, \"his inside was _that black_\nas if the hairs of his head knowed the thoughts of his heart, he'd tear\n'em up by the roots.\" \"That's odd,\" said Mr. Limp, a meditative shoemaker, with weak eyes and\na piping voice. \"Why, I read in the 'Trumpet' that was what the Duke\nof Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the Romans.\" \"Very like,\" said Mrs. Dollop. \"If one raskill said it, it's more\nreason why another should. But hypo_crite_ as he's been, and holding\nthings with that high hand, as there was no parson i' the country good\nenough for him, he was forced to take Old Harry into his counsel, and\nOld Harry's been too many for him.\" \"Ay, ay, he's a 'complice you can't send out o' the country,\" said Mr.\nCrabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly. \"But by what I can make out, there's them says Bulstrode was for\nrunning away, for fear o' being found out, before now.\" \"He'll be drove away, whether or no,\" said Mr. Dill, the barber, who\nhad just dropped in. \"I shaved Fletcher, Hawley's clerk, this\nmorning--he's got a bad finger--and he says they're all of one mind to\nget rid of Bulstrode. Mr. Thesiger is turned against him, and wants\nhim out o' the parish. And there's gentlemen in this town says they'd\nas soon dine with a fellow from the hulks. 'And a deal sooner I\nwould,' says Fletcher; 'for what's more against one's stomach than a\nman coming and making himself bad company with his religion, and giving\nout as the Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and all the while\nhe's worse than half the men at the tread-mill?' Fletcher said so\nhimself.\" \"It'll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode's money goes\nout of it,\" said Mr. Limp, quaveringly.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-02, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Ah, there's better folks spend their money worse,\" said a firm-voiced\ndyer, whose crimson hands looked out of keeping with his good-natured\nface. \"But he won't keep his money, by what I can make out,\" said the\nglazier. \"Don't they say as there's somebody can strip it off him? By\nwhat I can understan', they could take every penny off him, if they\nwent to lawing.\" \"No such thing!\" said the barber, who felt himself a little above his\ncompany at Dollop's, but liked it none the worse. \"Fletcher says it's\nno such thing. He says they might prove over and over again whose\nchild this young Ladislaw was, and they'd do no more than if they\nproved I came out of the Fens--he couldn't touch a penny.\" \"Look you there now!\" said Mrs. Dollop, indignantly. \"I thank the Lord\nhe took my children to Himself, if that's all the law can do for the\nmotherless. Then by that, it's o' no use who your father and mother\nis. But as to listening to what one lawyer says without asking\nanother--I wonder at a man o' your cleverness, Mr. Dill. It's well\nknown there's always two sides, if no more; else who'd go to law, I\nshould like to know? It's a poor tale, with all the law as there is up\nand down, if it's no use proving whose child you are. Fletcher may say\nthat if he likes, but I say, don't Fletcher _me_!\" Mr. Dill affected to laugh in a complimentary way at Mrs. Dollop, as a\nwoman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to\nsubmit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against\nhim. \"If they come to lawing, and it's all true as folks say, there's more\nto be looked to nor money,\" said the glazier. \"There's this poor\ncreetur as is dead and gone; by what I can make out, he'd seen the day\nwhen he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode.\" \"Finer gentleman! I'll warrant him,\" said Mrs. Dollop; \"and a far\npersonabler man, by what I can hear. As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the\ntax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says, 'Bulstrode\ngot all his money as he brought into this town by thieving and\nswindling,'--I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set\nmy blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin' here he came into\nSlaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks don't\nlook the color o' the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to\nsee into your backbone for nothingk.' That was what I said, and Mr.\nBaldwin can bear me witness.\" \"And in the rights of it too,\" said Mr. Crabbe. \"For by what I can\nmake out, this Raffles, as they call him, was a lusty, fresh-colored\nman as you'd wish to see, and the best o' company--though dead he lies\nin Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can understan', there's\nthem knows more than they _should_ know about how he got there.\" \"I'll believe you!\" said Mrs. Dallop, with a touch of scorn at Mr.\nCrabbe's apparent dimness. \"When a man's been 'ticed to a lone house,\nand there's them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the\ncountry-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and nobody to come\nnear but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he\ncan hang together, and after that so flush o' money as he can pay off\nMr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o'\njoints since last Michaelmas was a twelvemonth--I don't want anybody to\ncome and tell me as there's been more going on nor the Prayer-book's\ngot a service for--I don't want to stand winking and blinking and\nthinking.\" Mrs. Dollop looked round with the air of a landlady accustomed to\ndominate her company. There was a chorus of adhesion from the more\ncourageous; but Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands\ntogether and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them\nwith blear-eyed contemplation, as if the scorching power of Mrs.\nDollop's speech had quite dried up and nullified his wits until they\ncould be brought round again by further moisture. \"Why shouldn't they dig the man up and have the Crowner?\" said the\ndyer. \"It's been done many and many's the time. If there's been foul\nplay they might find it out.\" \"Not they, Mr. Jonas!\" said Mrs Dollop, emphatically. \"I know what\ndoctors are. They're a deal too cunning to be found out. And this\nDoctor Lydgate that's been for cutting up everybody before the breath\nwas well out o' their body--it's plain enough what use he wanted to\nmake o' looking into respectable people's insides. He knows drugs, you\nmay be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they're\nswallowed nor after. Why, I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor\nGambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought\nmore live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch--I\nsay I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in\nthe glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. So I'll leave\nyour own sense to judge. Don't tell me! All I say is, it's a mercy\nthey didn't take this Doctor Lydgate on to our club. There's many a\nmother's child might ha' rued it.\" The heads of this discussion at \"Dollop's\" had been the common theme\namong all classes in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on\none side and to Tipton Grange on the other, had come fully to the ears\nof the Vincy family, and had been discussed with sad reference to \"poor\nHarriet\" by all Mrs. Bulstrode's friends, before Lydgate knew\ndistinctly why people were looking strangely at him, and before\nBulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of his secrets. He had not\nbeen accustomed to very cordial relations with his neighbors, and hence\nhe could not miss the signs of cordiality; moreover, he had been taking\njourneys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that\nhe need not quit Middlemarch, and feeling able consequently to\ndetermine on matters which he had before left in suspense. \"We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a month or two,\"\nhe had said to his wife. \"There are great spiritual advantages to be\nhad in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there\nwill be eminently refreshing to us.\" He really believed in the spiritual advantages, and meant that his life\nhenceforth should be the more devoted because of those later sins which\nhe represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for\ntheir pardon:--\"if I have herein transgressed.\" As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate,\nfearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the\ndeath of Raffles. In his secret soul he believed that Lydgate\nsuspected his orders to have been intentionally disobeyed, and\nsuspecting this he must also suspect a motive. But nothing had been\nbetrayed to him as to the history of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious\nnot to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined\nsuspicions. As to any certainty that a particular method of treatment\nwould either save or kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing\nagainst such dogmatism; he had no right to speak, and he had every\nmotive for being silent. Hence Bulstrode felt himself providentially\nsecured. The only incident he had strongly winced under had been an\noccasional encounter with Caleb Garth, who, however, had raised his hat\nwith mild gravity. Meanwhile, on the part of the principal townsmen a strong determination\nwas growing against him. A meeting was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which\nhad risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case\nin the town. Since the Act of Parliament, which had been hurriedly\npassed, authorizing assessments for sanitary measures, there had been a\nBoard for the superintendence of such measures appointed in\nMiddlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in\nby Whigs and Tories. The question now was, whether a piece of ground\noutside the town should be secured as a burial-ground by means of\nassessment or by private subscription. The meeting was to be open, and\nalmost everybody of importance in the town was expected to be there.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Mr. Bulstrode was a member of the Board, and just before twelve o'clock\nhe started from the Bank with the intention of urging the plan of\nprivate subscription. Under the hesitation of his projects, he had for\nsome time kept himself in the background, and he felt that he should\nthis morning resume his old position as a man of action and influence\nin the public affairs of the town where he expected to end his days. Among the various persons going in the same direction, he saw Lydgate;\nthey joined, talked over the object of the meeting, and entered it\ntogether. It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. But there\nwere still spaces left near the head of the large central table, and\nthey made their way thither. Mr. Farebrother sat opposite, not far\nfrom Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in\nthe chair, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand. Lydgate noticed a peculiar interchange of glances when he and Bulstrode\ntook their seats. After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed\nout the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of ground\nlarge enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery, Mr.\nBulstrode, whose rather high-pitched but subdued and fluent voice the\ntown was used to at meetings of this sort, rose and asked leave to\ndeliver his opinion. Lydgate could see again the peculiar interchange\nof glances before Mr. Hawley started up, and said in his firm resonant\nvoice, \"Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his\nopinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of\npublic feeling, which not only by myself, but by many gentlemen\npresent, is regarded as preliminary.\" Mr. Hawley's mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his\n\"awful language,\" was formidable in its curtness and self-possession. Mr. Thesiger sanctioned the request, Mr. Bulstrode sat down, and Mr.\nHawley continued. \"In what I have to say, Mr. Chairman, I am not speaking simply on my\nown behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the express\nrequest of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are\nimmediately around us. It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode\nshould be called upon--and I do now call upon him--to resign public\npositions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman\namong gentlemen. There are practices and there are acts which, owing\nto circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than\nmany things which are legally punishable. Honest men and gentlemen, if\nthey don't want the company of people who perpetrate such acts, have\ngot to defend themselves as they best can, and that is what I and the\nfriends whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. I don't say that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful acts, but I\ncall upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous\nstatements made against him by a man now dead, and who died in his\nhouse--the statement that he was for many years engaged in nefarious\npractices, and that he won his fortune by dishonest procedures--or else\nto withdraw from positions which could only have been allowed him as a\ngentleman among gentlemen.\" All eyes in the room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, since the first\nmention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost\ntoo violent for his delicate frame to support. Lydgate, who himself\nwas undergoing a shock as from the terrible practical interpretation of\nsome faint augury, felt, nevertheless, that his own movement of\nresentful hatred was checked by that instinct of the Healer which\nthinks first of bringing rescue or relief to the sufferer, when he\nlooked at the shrunken misery of Bulstrode's livid face. The quick vision that his life was after all a failure, that he was a\ndishonored man, and must quail before the glance of those towards whom\nhe had habitually assumed the attitude of a reprover--that God had\ndisowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn\nof those who were glad to have their hatred justified--the sense of\nutter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with\nthe life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously\nupon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie:--all this\nrushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and\nleaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. The\nsudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety\ncame--not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to--the\nsusceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery\nand predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him. But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Through all\nhis bodily infirmity there ran a tenacious nerve of ambitious\nself-preserving will, which had continually leaped out like a flame,\nscattering all doctrinal fears, and which, even while he sat an object\nof compassion for the merciful, was beginning to stir and glow under\nhis ashy paleness. Before the last words were out of Mr. Hawley's\nmouth, Bulstrode felt that he should answer, and that his answer would\nbe a retort. He dared not get up and say, \"I am not guilty, the whole\nstory is false\"--even if he had dared this, it would have seemed to\nhim, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for\ncovering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little\nstrain. For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room\nwas looking at Bulstrode. He sat perfectly still, leaning hard against\nthe back of his chair; he could not venture to rise, and when he began\nto speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. But\nhis voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser than usual, and his\nwords were distinctly pronounced, though he paused between sentence as\nif short of breath. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, and\nthen looking at Mr. Hawley--\n\n\"I protest before you, sir, as a Christian minister, against the\nsanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent\nhatred. Those who are hostile to me are glad to believe any libel\nuttered by a loose tongue against me. And their consciences become\nstrict against me. Say that the evil-speaking of which I am to be made\nthe victim accuses me of malpractices--\" here Bulstrode's voice rose\nand took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low cry--\"who shall\nbe my accuser? Not men whose own lives are unchristian, nay,\nscandalous--not men who themselves use low instruments to carry out\ntheir ends--whose profession is a tissue of chicanery--who have been\nspending their income on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have\nbeen devoting mine to advance the best objects with regard to this life\nand the next.\" After the word chicanery there was a growing noise, half of murmurs and\nhalf of hisses, while four persons started up at once--Mr. Hawley, Mr.\nToller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Hawley's outburst was\ninstantaneous, and left the others behind in silence. \"If you mean me, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection\nof my professional life. As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate\nyour canting palavering Christianity; and as to the way in which I\nspend my income, it is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat\noffspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set\nmyself up as a saintly Killjoy. I affect no niceness of conscience--I\nhave not found any nice standards necessary yet to measure your actions\nby, sir. And I again call upon you to enter into satisfactory\nexplanations concerning the scandals against you, or else to withdraw\nfrom posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague. I say,\nsir, we decline to co-operate with a man whose character is not cleared\nfrom infamous lights cast upon it, not only by reports but by recent\nactions.\" \"Allow me, Mr. Hawley,\" said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley, still\nfuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep\nin his pockets. \"Mr. Bulstrode, it is not desirable, I think, to prolong the present\ndiscussion,\" said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; \"I\nmust so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in expression\nof a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession\nthat you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and\nhearing. But I must say that your present attitude is painfully\ninconsistent with those principles which you have sought to identify\nyourself with, and for the honor of which I am bound to care. I\nrecommend you at present, as your clergyman, and one who hopes for your\nreinstatement in respect, to quit the room, and avoid further hindrance\nto business.\" Bulstrode, after a moment's hesitation, took his hat from the floor and\nslowly rose, but he grasped the corner of the chair so totteringly that\nLydgate felt sure there was not strength enough in him to walk away\nwithout support. What could he do? He could not see a man sink close\nto him for want of help. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and in\nthat way led him out of the room; yet this act, which might have been\none of gentle duty and pure compassion, was at this moment unspeakably\nbitter to him. It seemed as if he were putting his sign-manual to that\nassociation of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full\nmeaning as it must have presented itself to other minds. He now felt\nthe conviction that this man who was leaning tremblingly on his arm,\nhad given him the thousand pounds as a bribe, and that somehow the\ntreatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. The\ninferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan,\nbelieved it to be a bribe, and believed that he took it as a bribe. Poor Lydgate, his mind struggling under the terrible clutch of this\nrevelation, was all the while morally forced to take Mr. Bulstrode to\nthe Bank, send a man off for his carriage, and wait to accompany him\nhome. Meanwhile the business of the meeting was despatched, and fringed off\ninto eager discussion among various groups concerning this affair of\nBulstrode--and Lydgate. Mr. Brooke, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, and was\nvery uneasy that he had \"gone a little too far\" in countenancing\nBulstrode, now got himself fully informed, and felt some benevolent\nsadness in talking to Mr. Farebrother about the ugly light in which\nLydgate had come to be regarded. Mr. Farebrother was going to walk\nback to Lowick. \"Step into my carriage,\" said Mr. Brooke. \"I am going round to see\nMrs. Casaubon. She was to come back from Yorkshire last night. She\nwill like to see me, you know.\" So they drove along, Mr. Brooke chatting with good-natured hope that\nthere had not really been anything black in Lydgate's behavior--a\nyoung fellow whom he had seen to be quite above the common mark, when\nhe brought a letter from his uncle Sir Godwin. Mr. Farebrother said\nlittle: he was deeply mournful: with a keen perception of human\nweakness, he could not be confident that under the pressure of\nhumiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. When the carriage drove up to the gate of the Manor, Dorothea was out\non the gravel, and came to greet them. \"Well, my dear,\" said Mr. Brooke, \"we have just come from a meeting--a\nsanitary meeting, you know.\" \"Was Mr. Lydgate there?\" said Dorothea, who looked full of health and\nanimation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April\nlights. \"I want to see him and have a great consultation with him\nabout the Hospital. I have engaged with Mr. Bulstrode to do so.\" \"Oh, my dear,\" said Mr. Brooke, \"we have been hearing bad news--bad\nnews, you know.\" They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr.\nFarebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the\nwhole sad story. She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the\nfacts and impressions concerning Lydgate. After a short silence,\npausing at the churchyard gate, and addressing Mr. Farebrother, she\nsaid energetically--\n\n\"You don't believe that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? I will\nnot believe it. Let us find out the truth and clear him!\" BOOK VIII. SUNSET AND SUNRISE.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-09", "answer": "Mr. Bambridge, Middlemarch men, Green Dragon, gossip, Raffles, Bulstrode's secrets, jail, Hopkins, Raffles buried, Bulstrode funeral, Lydgate, doctor, Stone Court, wildfire gossip, Bulstrode loan, Mrs. Bulstrode, Mrs. Plymdale, Mrs. Toller, scandal, Board of Trustees, hospital, Bulstrode steps down, bribe, Farebrother, Mr. Brooke, Dorothea, Will Ladislaw, Polish musician, thieving pawnbroker, reputation, clear Lydgate's name, determination, Middlemarch, ugly look, townspeople, chief medical man, implicated, family background"}]