["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> 1st Gent. Where lies the power, there let the blame lie too. 2d Gent. Nay, power is relative; you cannot fright\n                  The coming pest with border fortresses,\n                  Or catch your carp with subtle argument. All force is twain in one: cause is not cause\n                  Unless effect be there; and action's self\n                  Must needs contain a passive. So command\n                  Exists but with obedience.\" Even if Lydgate had been inclined to be quite open about his affairs,\nhe knew that it would have hardly been in Mr. Farebrother's power to\ngive him the help he immediately wanted. With the year's bills coming\nin from his tradesmen, with Dover's threatening hold on his furniture,\nand with nothing to depend on but slow dribbling payments from patients\nwho must not be offended--for the handsome fees he had had from\nFreshitt Hall and Lowick Manor had been easily absorbed--nothing less\nthan a thousand pounds would have freed him from actual embarrassment,\nand left a residue which, according to the favorite phrase of\nhopefulness in such circumstances, would have given him \"time to look\nabout him.\" Naturally, the merry Christmas bringing the happy New Year, when\nfellow-citizens expect to be paid for the trouble and goods they have\nsmilingly bestowed on their neighbors, had so tightened the pressure of\nsordid cares on Lydgate's mind that it was hardly possible for him to\nthink unbrokenly of any other subject, even the most habitual and\nsoliciting. He was not an ill-tempered man; his intellectual activity,\nthe ardent kindness of his heart, as well as his strong frame, would\nalways, under tolerably easy conditions, have kept him above the petty\nuncontrolled susceptibilities which make bad temper. But he was now a\nprey to that worst irritation which arises not simply from annoyances,\nbut from the second consciousness underlying those annoyances, of\nwasted energy and a degrading preoccupation, which was the reverse of\nall his former purposes. \"_This_ is what I am thinking of; and _that_\nis what I might have been thinking of,\" was the bitter incessant murmur\nwithin him, making every difficulty a double goad to impatience. Some gentlemen have made an amazing figure in literature by general\ndiscontent with the universe as a trap of dulness into which their\ngreat souls have fallen by mistake; but the sense of a stupendous self\nand an insignificant world may have its consolations. Lydgate's\ndiscontent was much harder to bear: it was the sense that there was a\ngrand existence in thought and effective action lying around him, while\nhis self was being narrowed into the miserable isolation of egoistic\nfears, and vulgar anxieties for events that might allay such fears. His troubles will perhaps appear miserably sordid, and beneath the\nattention of lofty persons who can know nothing of debt except on a\nmagnificent scale. Doubtless they were sordid; and for the majority,\nwho are not lofty, there is no escape from sordidness but by being free\nfrom money-craving, with all its base hopes and temptations, its\nwatching for death, its hinted requests, its horse-dealer's desire to\nmake bad work pass for good, its seeking for function which ought to be\nanother's, its compulsion often to long for Luck in the shape of a wide\ncalamity. It was because Lydgate writhed under the idea of getting his neck\nbeneath this vile yoke that he had fallen into a bitter moody state\nwhich was continually widening Rosamond's alienation from him. After\nthe first disclosure about the bill of sale, he had made many efforts\nto draw her into sympathy with him about possible measures for\nnarrowing their expenses, and with the threatening approach of\nChristmas his propositions grew more and more definite. \"We two can do\nwith only one servant, and live on very little,\" he said, \"and I shall\nmanage with one horse.\" For Lydgate, as we have seen, had begun to\nreason, with a more distinct vision, about the expenses of living, and\nany share of pride he had given to appearances of that sort was meagre\ncompared with the pride which made him revolt from exposure as a\ndebtor, or from asking men to help him with their money. \"Of course you can dismiss the other two servants, if you like,\" said\nRosamond; \"but I should have thought it would be very injurious to your\nposition for us to live in a poor way. You must expect your practice\nto be lowered.\" \"My dear Rosamond, it is not a question of choice. We have begun too\nexpensively. Peacock, you know, lived in a much smaller house than\nthis. It is my fault: I ought to have known better, and I deserve a\nthrashing--if there were anybody who had a right to give it me--for\nbringing you into the necessity of living in a poorer way than you have\nbeen used to. But we married because we loved each other, I suppose. And that may help us to pull along till things get better. Come, dear,\nput down that work and come to me.\" He was really in chill gloom about her at that moment, but he dreaded a\nfuture without affection, and was determined to resist the oncoming of\ndivision between them. Rosamond obeyed him, and he took her on his\nknee, but in her secret soul she was utterly aloof from him. The poor\nthing saw only that the world was not ordered to her liking, and\nLydgate was part of that world. But he held her waist with one hand\nand laid the other gently on both of hers; for this rather abrupt man\nhad much tenderness in his manners towards women, seeming to have\nalways present in his imagination the weakness of their frames and the\ndelicate poise of their health both in body and mind. And he began\nagain to speak persuasively. \"I find, now I look into things a little, Rosy, that it is wonderful\nwhat an amount of money slips away in our housekeeping. I suppose the\nservants are careless, and we have had a great many people coming. But\nthere must be many in our rank who manage with much less: they must do\nwith commoner things, I suppose, and look after the scraps. It seems,\nmoney goes but a little way in these matters, for Wrench has everything\nas plain as possible, and he has a very large practice.\" \"Oh, if you think of living as the Wrenches do!\" said Rosamond, with a\nlittle turn of her neck. \"But I have heard you express your disgust at\nthat way of living.\" \"Yes, they have bad taste in everything--they make economy look ugly. We needn't do that. I only meant that they avoid expenses, although\nWrench has a capital practice.\" \"Why should not you have a good practice, Tertius? Mr. Peacock had. You should be more careful not to offend people, and you should send\nout medicines as the others do. I am sure you began well, and you got\nseveral good houses. It cannot answer to be eccentric; you should\nthink what will be generally liked,\" said Rosamond, in a decided little\ntone of admonition. Lydgate's anger rose: he was prepared to be indulgent towards feminine\nweakness, but not towards feminine dictation. The shallowness of a\nwaternixie's soul may have a charm until she becomes didactic. But he\ncontrolled himself, and only said, with a touch of despotic firmness--\n\n\"What I am to do in my practice, Rosy, it is for me to judge. That is\nnot the question between us. It is enough for you to know that our\nincome is likely to be a very narrow one--hardly four hundred, perhaps\nless, for a long time to come, and we must try to re-arrange our lives\nin accordance with that fact.\" Rosamond was silent for a moment or two, looking before her, and then\nsaid, \"My uncle Bulstrode ought to allow you a salary for the time you\ngive to the Hospital: it is not right that you should work for nothing.\" \"It was understood from the beginning that my services would be\ngratuitous. That, again, need not enter into our discussion. I have\npointed out what is the only probability,\" said Lydgate, impatiently. Then checking himself, he went on more quietly--\n\n\"I think I see one resource which would free us from a good deal of the\npresent difficulty. I hear that young Ned Plymdale is going to be\nmarried to Miss Sophy Toller. They are rich, and it is not often that\na good house is vacant in Middlemarch. I feel sure that they would be\nglad to take this house from us with most of our furniture, and they\nwould be willing to pay handsomely for the lease. I can employ\nTrumbull to speak to Plymdale about it.\"\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 2024-01-03 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Rosamond left her husband's knee and walked slowly to the other end of\nthe room; when she turned round and walked towards him it was evident\nthat the tears had come, and that she was biting her under-lip and\nclasping her hands to keep herself from crying. Lydgate was\nwretched--shaken with anger and yet feeling that it would be unmanly to\nvent the anger just now. \"I am very sorry, Rosamond; I know this is painful.\" \"I thought, at least, when I had borne to send the plate back and have\nthat man taking an inventory of the furniture--I should have thought\n_that_ would suffice.\" \"I explained it to you at the time, dear. That was only a security and\nbehind that security there is a debt. And that debt must be paid\nwithin the next few months, else we shall have our furniture sold. If\nyoung Plymdale will take our house and most of our furniture, we shall\nbe able to pay that debt, and some others too, and we shall be quit of\na place too expensive for us. We might take a smaller house: Trumbull,\nI know, has a very decent one to let at thirty pounds a-year, and this\nis ninety.\" Lydgate uttered this speech in the curt hammering way with\nwhich we usually try to nail down a vague mind to imperative facts. Tears rolled silently down Rosamond's cheeks; she just pressed her\nhandkerchief against them, and stood looking at the large vase on the\nmantel-piece. It was a moment of more intense bitterness than she had\never felt before. At last she said, without hurry and with careful\nemphasis--\n\n\"I never could have believed that you would like to act in that way.\" \"Like it?\" burst out Lydgate, rising from his chair, thrusting his\nhands in his pockets and stalking away from the hearth; \"it's not a\nquestion of liking. Of course, I don't like it; it's the only thing I\ncan do.\" He wheeled round there, and turned towards her. \"I should have thought there were many other means than that,\" said\nRosamond. \"Let us have a sale and leave Middlemarch altogether.\" \"To do what? What is the use of my leaving my work in Middlemarch to\ngo where I have none? We should be just as penniless elsewhere as we\nare here,\" said Lydgate still more angrily. \"If we are to be in that position it will be entirely your own doing,\nTertius,\" said Rosamond, turning round to speak with the fullest\nconviction. \"You will not behave as you ought to do to your own\nfamily. You offended Captain Lydgate. Sir Godwin was very kind to me\nwhen we were at Quallingham, and I am sure if you showed proper regard\nto him and told him your affairs, he would do anything for you. But\nrather than that, you like giving up our house and furniture to Mr. Ned\nPlymdale.\" There was something like fierceness in Lydgate's eyes, as he answered\nwith new violence, \"Well, then, if you will have it so, I do like it. I admit that I like it better than making a fool of myself by going to\nbeg where it's of no use. Understand then, that it is what I _like to\ndo._\"\n\nThere was a tone in the last sentence which was equivalent to the\nclutch of his strong hand on Rosamond's delicate arm. But for all\nthat, his will was not a whit stronger than hers. She immediately\nwalked out of the room in silence, but with an intense determination to\nhinder what Lydgate liked to do. He went out of the house, but as his blood cooled he felt that the\nchief result of the discussion was a deposit of dread within him at the\nidea of opening with his wife in future subjects which might again urge\nhim to violent speech. It was as if a fracture in delicate crystal had\nbegun, and he was afraid of any movement that might make it fatal. His\nmarriage would be a mere piece of bitter irony if they could not go on\nloving each other. He had long ago made up his mind to what he thought\nwas her negative character--her want of sensibility, which showed\nitself in disregard both of his specific wishes and of his general\naims. The first great disappointment had been borne: the tender\ndevotedness and docile adoration of the ideal wife must be renounced,\nand life must be taken up on a lower stage of expectation, as it is by\nmen who have lost their limbs. But the real wife had not only her\nclaims, she had still a hold on his heart, and it was his intense\ndesire that the hold should remain strong. In marriage, the certainty,\n\"She will never love me much,\" is easier to bear than the fear, \"I\nshall love her no more.\" Hence, after that outburst, his inward effort\nwas entirely to excuse her, and to blame the hard circumstances which\nwere partly his fault. He tried that evening, by petting her, to heal\nthe wound he had made in the morning, and it was not in Rosamond's\nnature to be repellent or sulky; indeed, she welcomed the signs that\nher husband loved her and was under control. But this was something\nquite distinct from loving _him_. Lydgate would not have chosen soon to\nrecur to the plan of parting with the house; he was resolved to carry\nit out, and say as little more about it as possible. But Rosamond\nherself touched on it at breakfast by saying, mildly--\n\n\"Have you spoken to Trumbull yet?\" \"No,\" said Lydgate, \"but I shall call on him as I go by this morning. No time must be lost.\" He took Rosamond's question as a sign that she\nwithdrew her inward opposition, and kissed her head caressingly when he\ngot up to go away. As soon as it was late enough to make a call, Rosamond went to Mrs.\nPlymdale, Mr. Ned's mother, and entered with pretty congratulations\ninto the subject of the coming marriage. Mrs. Plymdale's maternal view\nwas, that Rosamond might possibly now have retrospective glimpses of\nher own folly; and feeling the advantages to be at present all on the\nside of her son, was too kind a woman not to behave graciously. \"Yes, Ned is most happy, I must say. And Sophy Toller is all I could\ndesire in a daughter-in-law. Of course her father is able to do\nsomething handsome for her--that is only what would be expected with a\nbrewery like his. And the connection is everything we should desire. But that is not what I look at. She is such a very nice girl--no airs,\nno pretensions, though on a level with the first. I don't mean with\nthe titled aristocracy. I see very little good in people aiming out of\ntheir own sphere. I mean that Sophy is equal to the best in the town,\nand she is contented with that.\" \"I have always thought her very agreeable,\" said Rosamond. \"I look upon it as a reward for Ned, who never held his head too high,\nthat he should have got into the very best connection,\" continued Mrs.\nPlymdale, her native sharpness softened by a fervid sense that she was\ntaking a correct view. \"And such particular people as the Tollers are,\nthey might have objected because some of our friends are not theirs. It is well known that your aunt Bulstrode and I have been intimate from\nour youth, and Mr. Plymdale has been always on Mr. Bulstrode's side. And I myself prefer serious opinions. But the Tollers have welcomed\nNed all the same.\" \"I am sure he is a very deserving, well-principled young man,\" said\nRosamond, with a neat air of patronage in return for Mrs. Plymdale's\nwholesome corrections. \"Oh, he has not the style of a captain in the army, or that sort of\ncarriage as if everybody was beneath him, or that showy kind of\ntalking, and singing, and intellectual talent. But I am thankful he\nhas not. It is a poor preparation both for here and Hereafter.\" \"Oh dear, yes; appearances have very little to do with happiness,\" said\nRosamond. \"I think there is every prospect of their being a happy\ncouple. What house will they take?\" \"Oh, as for that, they must put up with what they can get. They have\nbeen looking at the house in St. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hackbutt's;\nit belongs to him, and he is putting it nicely in repair. I suppose\nthey are not likely to hear of a better. Indeed, I think Ned will\ndecide the matter to-day.\" \"I should think it is a nice house; I like St. Peter's Place.\" \"Well, it is near the Church, and a genteel situation. But the windows\nare narrow, and it is all ups and downs.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-03, 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> You don't happen to know of\nany other that would be at liberty?\" said Mrs. Plymdale, fixing her\nround black eyes on Rosamond with the animation of a sudden thought in\nthem. \"Oh no; I hear so little of those things.\" Rosamond had not foreseen that question and answer in setting out to\npay her visit; she had simply meant to gather any information which\nwould help her to avert the parting with her own house under\ncircumstances thoroughly disagreeable to her. As to the untruth in her\nreply, she no more reflected on it than she did on the untruth there\nwas in her saying that appearances had very little to do with\nhappiness. Her object, she was convinced, was thoroughly justifiable:\nit was Lydgate whose intention was inexcusable; and there was a plan in\nher mind which, when she had carried it out fully, would prove how very\nfalse a step it would have been for him to have descended from his\nposition. She returned home by Mr. Borthrop Trumbull's office, meaning to call\nthere. It was the first time in her life that Rosamond had thought of\ndoing anything in the form of business, but she felt equal to the\noccasion. That she should be obliged to do what she intensely\ndisliked, was an idea which turned her quiet tenacity into active\ninvention. Here was a case in which it could not be enough simply to\ndisobey and be serenely, placidly obstinate: she must act according to\nher judgment, and she said to herself that her judgment was\nright--\"indeed, if it had not been, she would not have wished to act on\nit.\" Mr. Trumbull was in the back-room of his office, and received Rosamond\nwith his finest manners, not only because he had much sensibility to\nher charms, but because the good-natured fibre in him was stirred by\nhis certainty that Lydgate was in difficulties, and that this\nuncommonly pretty woman--this young lady with the highest personal\nattractions--was likely to feel the pinch of trouble--to find herself\ninvolved in circumstances beyond her control. He begged her to do him\nthe honor to take a seat, and stood before her trimming and comporting\nhimself with an eager solicitude, which was chiefly benevolent. Rosamond's first question was, whether her husband had called on Mr.\nTrumbull that morning, to speak about disposing of their house. \"Yes, ma'am, yes, he did; he did so,\" said the good auctioneer, trying\nto throw something soothing into his iteration. \"I was about to fulfil\nhis order, if possible, this afternoon. He wished me not to\nprocrastinate.\" \"I called to tell you not to go any further, Mr. Trumbull; and I beg of\nyou not to mention what has been said on the subject. Will you oblige\nme?\" \"Certainly I will, Mrs. Lydgate, certainly. Confidence is sacred with\nme on business or any other topic. I am then to consider the\ncommission withdrawn?\" said Mr. Trumbull, adjusting the long ends of\nhis blue cravat with both hands, and looking at Rosamond deferentially. \"Yes, if you please. I find that Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house--the\none in St. Peter's Place next to Mr. Hackbutt's. Mr. Lydgate would be\nannoyed that his orders should be fulfilled uselessly. And besides\nthat, there are other circumstances which render the proposal\nunnecessary.\" \"Very good, Mrs. Lydgate, very good. I am at your commands, whenever\nyou require any service of me,\" said Mr. Trumbull, who felt pleasure in\nconjecturing that some new resources had been opened. \"Rely on me, I\nbeg. The affair shall go no further.\" That evening Lydgate was a little comforted by observing that Rosamond\nwas more lively than she had usually been of late, and even seemed\ninterested in doing what would please him without being asked. He\nthought, \"If she will be happy and I can rub through, what does it all\nsignify? It is only a narrow swamp that we have to pass in a long\njourney. If I can get my mind clear again, I shall do.\" He was so much cheered that he began to search for an account of\nexperiments which he had long ago meant to look up, and had neglected\nout of that creeping self-despair which comes in the train of petty\nanxieties. He felt again some of the old delightful absorption in a\nfar-reaching inquiry, while Rosamond played the quiet music which was\nas helpful to his meditation as the plash of an oar on the evening\nlake. It was rather late; he had pushed away all the books, and was\nlooking at the fire with his hands clasped behind his head in\nforgetfulness of everything except the construction of a new\ncontrolling experiment, when Rosamond, who had left the piano and was\nleaning back in her chair watching him, said--\n\n\"Mr. Ned Plymdale has taken a house already.\" Lydgate, startled and jarred, looked up in silence for a moment, like a\nman who has been disturbed in his sleep. Then flushing with an\nunpleasant consciousness, he asked--\n\n\"How do you know?\" \"I called at Mrs. Plymdale's this morning, and she told me that he had\ntaken the house in St. Peter's Place, next to Mr. Hackbutt's.\" Lydgate was silent. He drew his hands from behind his head and pressed\nthem against the hair which was hanging, as it was apt to do, in a mass\non his forehead, while he rested his elbows on his knees. He was\nfeeling bitter disappointment, as if he had opened a door out of a\nsuffocating place and had found it walled up; but he also felt sure\nthat Rosamond was pleased with the cause of his disappointment. He\npreferred not looking at her and not speaking, until he had got over\nthe first spasm of vexation. After all, he said in his bitterness,\nwhat can a woman care about so much as house and furniture? a husband\nwithout them is an absurdity. When he looked up and pushed his hair\naside, his dark eyes had a miserable blank non-expectance of sympathy\nin them, but he only said, coolly--\n\n\"Perhaps some one else may turn up. I told Trumbull to be on the\nlook-out if he failed with Plymdale.\" Rosamond made no remark. She trusted to the chance that nothing more\nwould pass between her husband and the auctioneer until some issue\nshould have justified her interference; at any rate, she had hindered\nthe event which she immediately dreaded. After a pause, she said--\n\n\"How much money is it that those disagreeable people want?\" \"What disagreeable people?\" \"Those who took the list--and the others. I mean, how much money would\nsatisfy them so that you need not be troubled any more?\" Lydgate surveyed her for a moment, as if he were looking for symptoms,\nand then said, \"Oh, if I could have got six hundred from Plymdale for\nfurniture and as premium, I might have managed. I could have paid off\nDover, and given enough on account to the others to make them wait\npatiently, if we contracted our expenses.\" \"But I mean how much should you want if we stayed in this house?\" \"More than I am likely to get anywhere,\" said Lydgate, with rather a\ngrating sarcasm in his tone. It angered him to perceive that\nRosamond's mind was wandering over impracticable wishes instead of\nfacing possible efforts. \"Why should you not mention the sum?\" said Rosamond, with a mild\nindication that she did not like his manners. \"Well,\" said Lydgate in a guessing tone, \"it would take at least a\nthousand to set me at ease. But,\" he added, incisively, \"I have to\nconsider what I shall do without it, not with it.\" Rosamond said no more. But the next day she carried out her plan of writing to Sir Godwin\nLydgate. Since the Captain's visit, she had received a letter from\nhim, and also one from Mrs. Mengan, his married sister, condoling with\nher on the loss of her baby, and expressing vaguely the hope that they\nshould see her again at Quallingham. Lydgate had told her that this\npoliteness meant nothing; but she was secretly convinced that any\nbackwardness in Lydgate's family towards him was due to his cold and\ncontemptuous behavior, and she had answered the letters in her most\ncharming manner, feeling some confidence that a specific invitation\nwould follow. But there had been total silence. The Captain evidently\nwas not a great penman, and Rosamond reflected that the sisters might\nhave been abroad.\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 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> However, the season was come for thinking of friends\nat home, and at any rate Sir Godwin, who had chucked her under the\nchin, and pronounced her to be like the celebrated beauty, Mrs. Croly,\nwho had made a conquest of him in 1790, would be touched by any appeal\nfrom her, and would find it pleasant for her sake to behave as he ought\nto do towards his nephew. Rosamond was naively convinced of what an\nold gentleman ought to do to prevent her from suffering annoyance. And\nshe wrote what she considered the most judicious letter possible--one\nwhich would strike Sir Godwin as a proof of her excellent sense--pointing\nout how desirable it was that Tertius should quit such a place\nas Middlemarch for one more fitted to his talents, how the unpleasant\ncharacter of the inhabitants had hindered his professional success, and\nhow in consequence he was in money difficulties, from which it would\nrequire a thousand pounds thoroughly to extricate him. She did not say\nthat Tertius was unaware of her intention to write; for she had the\nidea that his supposed sanction of her letter would be in accordance\nwith what she did say of his great regard for his uncle Godwin as the\nrelative who had always been his best friend. Such was the force of\nPoor Rosamond's tactics now she applied them to affairs. This had happened before the party on New Year's Day, and no answer had\nyet come from Sir Godwin. But on the morning of that day Lydgate had\nto learn that Rosamond had revoked his order to Borthrop Trumbull. Feeling it necessary that she should be gradually accustomed to the\nidea of their quitting the house in Lowick Gate, he overcame his\nreluctance to speak to her again on the subject, and when they were\nbreakfasting said--\n\n\"I shall try to see Trumbull this morning, and tell him to advertise\nthe house in the 'Pioneer' and the 'Trumpet.' If the thing were\nadvertised, some one might be inclined to take it who would not\notherwise have thought of a change. In these country places many\npeople go on in their old houses when their families are too large for\nthem, for want of knowing where they can find another. And Trumbull\nseems to have got no bite at all.\" Rosamond knew that the inevitable moment was come. \"I ordered Trumbull\nnot to inquire further,\" she said, with a careful calmness which was\nevidently defensive. Lydgate stared at her in mute amazement. Only half an hour before he\nhad been fastening up her plaits for her, and talking the \"little\nlanguage\" of affection, which Rosamond, though not returning it,\naccepted as if she had been a serene and lovely image, now and then\nmiraculously dimpling towards her votary. With such fibres still astir\nin him, the shock he received could not at once be distinctly anger; it\nwas confused pain. He laid down the knife and fork with which he was\ncarving, and throwing himself back in his chair, said at last, with a\ncool irony in his tone--\n\n\"May I ask when and why you did so?\" \"When I knew that the Plymdales had taken a house, I called to tell him\nnot to mention ours to them; and at the same time I told him not to let\nthe affair go on any further. I knew that it would be very injurious\nto you if it were known that you wished to part with your house and\nfurniture, and I had a very strong objection to it. I think that was\nreason enough.\" \"It was of no consequence then that I had told you imperative reasons\nof another kind; of no consequence that I had come to a different\nconclusion, and given an order accordingly?\" said Lydgate, bitingly,\nthe thunder and lightning gathering about his brow and eyes. The effect of any one's anger on Rosamond had always been to make her\nshrink in cold dislike, and to become all the more calmly correct, in\nthe conviction that she was not the person to misbehave whatever others\nmight do. She replied--\n\n\"I think I had a perfect right to speak on a subject which concerns me\nat least as much as you.\" \"Clearly--you had a right to speak, but only to me. You had no right\nto contradict my orders secretly, and treat me as if I were a fool,\"\nsaid Lydgate, in the same tone as before. Then with some added scorn,\n\"Is it possible to make you understand what the consequences will be? Is it of any use for me to tell you again why we must try to part with\nthe house?\" \"It is not necessary for you to tell me again,\" said Rosamond, in a\nvoice that fell and trickled like cold water-drops. \"I remembered what\nyou said. You spoke just as violently as you do now. But that does\nnot alter my opinion that you ought to try every other means rather\nthan take a step which is so painful to me. And as to advertising the\nhouse, I think it would be perfectly degrading to you.\" \"And suppose I disregard your opinion as you disregard mine?\" \"You can do so, of course. But I think you ought to have told me\nbefore we were married that you would place me in the worst position,\nrather than give up your own will.\" Lydgate did not speak, but tossed his head on one side, and twitched\nthe corners of his mouth in despair. Rosamond, seeing that he was not\nlooking at her, rose and set his cup of coffee before him; but he took\nno notice of it, and went on with an inward drama and argument,\noccasionally moving in his seat, resting one arm on the table, and\nrubbing his hand against his hair. There was a conflux of emotions and\nthoughts in him that would not let him either give thorough way to his\nanger or persevere with simple rigidity of resolve. Rosamond took\nadvantage of his silence. \"When we were married everyone felt that your position was very high. I could not have imagined then that you would want to sell our\nfurniture, and take a house in Bride Street, where the rooms are like\ncages. If we are to live in that way let us at least leave\nMiddlemarch.\" \"These would be very strong considerations,\" said Lydgate, half\nironically--still there was a withered paleness about his lips as he\nlooked at his coffee, and did not drink--\"these would be very strong\nconsiderations if I did not happen to be in debt.\" \"Many persons must have been in debt in the same way, but if they are\nrespectable, people trust them. I am sure I have heard papa say that\nthe Torbits were in debt, and they went on very well. It cannot be\ngood to act rashly,\" said Rosamond, with serene wisdom. Lydgate sat paralyzed by opposing impulses: since no reasoning he could\napply to Rosamond seemed likely to conquer her assent, he wanted to\nsmash and grind some object on which he could at least produce an\nimpression, or else to tell her brutally that he was master, and she\nmust obey. But he not only dreaded the effect of such extremities on\ntheir mutual life--he had a growing dread of Rosamond's quiet elusive\nobstinacy, which would not allow any assertion of power to be final;\nand again, she had touched him in a spot of keenest feeling by implying\nthat she had been deluded with a false vision of happiness in marrying\nhim. As to saying that he was master, it was not the fact. The very\nresolution to which he had wrought himself by dint of logic and\nhonorable pride was beginning to relax under her torpedo contact. He\nswallowed half his cup of coffee, and then rose to go. \"I may at least request that you will not go to Trumbull at\npresent--until it has been seen that there are no other means,\" said\nRosamond. Although she was not subject to much fear, she felt it safer\nnot to betray that she had written to Sir Godwin. \"Promise me that you\nwill not go to him for a few weeks, or without telling me.\" Lydgate gave a short laugh. \"I think it is I who should exact a\npromise that you will do nothing without telling me,\" he said, turning\nhis eyes sharply upon her, and then moving to the door. \"You remember that we are going to dine at papa's,\" said Rosamond,\nwishing that he should turn and make a more thorough concession to her. But he only said \"Oh yes,\" impatiently, and went away. She held it to\nbe very odious in him that he did not think the painful propositions he\nhad had to make to her were enough, without showing so unpleasant a\ntemper. And when she put the moderate request that he would defer\ngoing to Trumbull again, it was cruel in him not to assure her of what\nhe meant to do. She was convinced of her having acted in every way for\nthe best; and each grating or angry speech of Lydgate's served only as\nan addition to the register of offences in her mind.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, 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> Poor Rosamond for\nmonths had begun to associate her husband with feelings of\ndisappointment, and the terribly inflexible relation of marriage had\nlost its charm of encouraging delightful dreams. It had freed her from\nthe disagreeables of her father's house, but it had not given her\neverything that she had wished and hoped. The Lydgate with whom she\nhad been in love had been a group of airy conditions for her, most of\nwhich had disappeared, while their place had been taken by every-day\ndetails which must be lived through slowly from hour to hour, not\nfloated through with a rapid selection of favorable aspects. The\nhabits of Lydgate's profession, his home preoccupation with scientific\nsubjects, which seemed to her almost like a morbid vampire's taste, his\npeculiar views of things which had never entered into the dialogue of\ncourtship--all these continually alienating influences, even without\nthe fact of his having placed himself at a disadvantage in the town,\nand without that first shock of revelation about Dover's debt, would\nhave made his presence dull to her. There was another presence which\never since the early days of her marriage, until four months ago, had\nbeen an agreeable excitement, but that was gone: Rosamond would not\nconfess to herself how much the consequent blank had to do with her\nutter ennui; and it seemed to her (perhaps she was right) that an\ninvitation to Quallingham, and an opening for Lydgate to settle\nelsewhere than in Middlemarch--in London, or somewhere likely to be\nfree from unpleasantness--would satisfy her quite well, and make her\nindifferent to the absence of Will Ladislaw, towards whom she felt some\nresentment for his exaltation of Mrs. Casaubon. That was the state of things with Lydgate and Rosamond on the New\nYear's Day when they dined at her father's, she looking mildly neutral\ntowards him in remembrance of his ill-tempered behavior at breakfast,\nand he carrying a much deeper effect from the inward conflict in which\nthat morning scene was only one of many epochs. His flushed effort\nwhile talking to Mr. Farebrother--his effort after the cynical pretence\nthat all ways of getting money are essentially the same, and that\nchance has an empire which reduces choice to a fool's illusion--was but\nthe symptom of a wavering resolve, a benumbed response to the old\nstimuli of enthusiasm. What was he to do? He saw even more keenly than Rosamond did the\ndreariness of taking her into the small house in Bride Street, where\nshe would have scanty furniture around her and discontent within: a\nlife of privation and life with Rosamond were two images which had\nbecome more and more irreconcilable ever since the threat of privation\nhad disclosed itself. But even if his resolves had forced the two\nimages into combination, the useful preliminaries to that hard change\nwere not visibly within reach. And though he had not given the promise\nwhich his wife had asked for, he did not go again to Trumbull. He even\nbegan to think of taking a rapid journey to the North and seeing Sir\nGodwin. He had once believed that nothing would urge him into making\nan application for money to his uncle, but he had not then known the\nfull pressure of alternatives yet more disagreeable. He could not\ndepend on the effect of a letter; it was only in an interview, however\ndisagreeable this might be to himself, that he could give a thorough\nexplanation and could test the effectiveness of kinship. No sooner had\nLydgate begun to represent this step to himself as the easiest than\nthere was a reaction of anger that he--he who had long ago determined\nto live aloof from such abject calculations, such self-interested\nanxiety about the inclinations and the pockets of men with whom he had\nbeen proud to have no aims in common--should have fallen not simply to\ntheir level, but to the level of soliciting them.\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": "Lydgate, Rosamond, money troubles, household expenses, resentment, selling house, moving, Ned Plymdale, Ned's mother, marriage, Rosamond's refusal, handling matters herself, stopping house sale, writing relatives for money, secret letters, rich uncle, unhappiness, financial decisions, deception, marital conflict"}]