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Eliot, George, 1819-1880

"Adam Bede"

Facile natures, whose emotions have little
permanence, can hardly understand how much inward resistance he overcame
before he rose from his seat and turned towards Arthur. Arthur heard the
movement, and turning round, met the sad but softened look with which
Adam said, "It's true what you say, sir. I'm hard--it's in my nature.
I was too hard with my father, for doing wrong. I've been a bit hard t'
everybody but her. I felt as if nobody pitied her enough--her suffering
cut into me so; and when I thought the folks at the farm were too hard
with her, I said I'd never be hard to anybody myself again. But feeling
overmuch about her has perhaps made me unfair to you. I've known what
it is in my life to repent and feel it's too late. I felt I'd been too
harsh to my father when he was gone from me--I feel it now, when I think
of him. I've no right to be hard towards them as have done wrong and
repent."
Adam spoke these words with the firm distinctness of a man who is
resolved to leave nothing unsaid that he is bound to say; but he went on
with more hesitation.
"I wouldn't shake hands with you once, sir, when you asked me--but if
you're willing to do it now, for all I refused then..."
Arthur's white hand was in Adam's large grasp in an instant, and with
that action there was a strong rush, on both sides, of the old, boyish
affection.


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