But it is really impossible to decide this question by a glance at his person; the lines and lights of the human countenance are like other symbols,—not always easy to read without a key. On an _a priori_ view of Wakem’s aquiline nose, which offended Mr Tulliver, there was not more rascality than in the shape of his stiff shirt-collar, though this too along with his nose, might have become fraught with damnatory meaning when once the rascality was ascertained. “Mrs Tulliver, I think?” said Mr Wakem. “Yes, sir; Miss Elizabeth Dodson as was.” “Pray be seated. You have some business with me?” “Well, sir, yes,” said Mrs Tulliver, beginning to feel alarmed at her own courage, now she was really in presence of the formidable man, and reflecting that she had not settled with herself how she should begin. Mr Wakem felt in his waistcoat pockets, and looked at her in silence. “I hope, sir,” she began at last,—“I hope, sir, you’re not a-thinking as _I_ bear you any ill-will because o’ my husband’s losing his lawsuit, and the bailies being put in, and the linen being sold,—oh dear!—for I wasn’t brought up in that way. I’m sure you remember my father, sir, for he was close friends with Squire Darleigh, and we allays went to the dances there, the Miss Dodsons,—nobody could be more looked on,—and justly, for there was four of us, and you’re quite aware as Mrs Glegg and Mrs Deane are my sisters. And as for going to law and losing money, and having sales before you’re dead, I never saw anything o’ that before I was married, nor for a long while after. And I’m not to be answerable for my bad luck i’ marrying out o’ my own family into one where the goings-on was different. And as for being drawn in t’ abuse you as other folks abuse you, sir, _that_ I niver was, and nobody can say it of me.” Mrs Tulliver shook her head a little, and looked at the hem of her pocket handkerchief. “I’ve no doubt of what you say, Mrs Tulliver,” said Mr Wakem, with cold politeness. “But you have some question to ask me?” “Well, sir, yes. But that’s what I’ve said to myself,—I’ve said you’d had some nat’ral feeling; and as for my husband, as hasn’t been himself for this two months, I’m not a-defending him, in no way, for being so hot about th’ erigation,—not but what there’s worse men, for he never wronged nobody of a shilling nor a penny, not willingly; and as for his fieriness and lawing, what could I do? And him struck as if it was with death when he got the letter as said you’d the hold upo’ the land. But I can’t believe but what you’ll behave as a gentleman.” “What does all this mean, Mrs Tulliver?” said Mr Wakem rather sharply. “What do you want to ask me?” “Why, sir, if you’ll be so good,” said Mrs Tulliver, starting a little, and speaking more hurriedly,—“if you’ll be so good not to buy the mill an’ the land,—the land wouldn’t so much matter, only my husband ull’ be like mad at your having it.”