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Three weeks later, when Dorlcote Mill was at its prettiest moment in all the year, the great chestnuts in blossom, and the grass all deep and daisied, Tom Tulliver came home to it earlier than usual in the evening, and as he passed over the bridge, he looked with the old deep-rooted affection at the respectable red brick house, which always seemed cheerful and inviting outside, let the rooms be as bare and the hearts as sad as they might inside.
The reception of the story at first was disappointing, and we find the authoress telling her publisher that "she does not want to see any newspaper articles." But the book made its way, and prepared an ever-growing public for "Silas Marner." I. The Tullivers of Dorlcote Mill "What I want, you know," said Mr.
We met often in that thicket the Red Deeps near Dorlcote Mill. I love her dearly; I shall never love any other woman. I have thought of her ever since she was a little girl." "Go on, sir! And you have corresponded with her all this while?" "No. I never told her I loved her till just before we parted, and she promised her brother not to see me again or to correspond with me.
My uncle Tulliver was unfortunate and lost all his property, and I think he considered Mr. Wakem was somehow the cause of it. Mr. Wakem bought Dorlcote Mill, my uncle's old place, where he always lived. You must remember my uncle Tulliver, don't you?" "No," said Stephen, with rather supercilious indifference. "I've always known the name, and I dare say I knew the man by sight, apart from his name.
Wakem entered his office that morning, he had had no intention of purchasing Dorlcote Mill, his mind was already made up. Mrs. Tulliver had suggested to him several determining motives, and his mental glance was very rapid; he was one of those men who can be prompt without being rash, because their motives run in fixed tracks, and they have no need to reconcile conflicting aims.
Tulliver something to that effect, when he rode over to the mill to inspect the books in company with Mrs. Glegg; for she had observed that "if Guest &Co. would only think about it, Mr. Tulliver's father and grandfather had been carrying on Dorlcote Mill long before the oil-mill of that firm had been so much as thought of." Mr.
Maggie sat down again, with little faith in this promise, though she presently saw the tall girl putting a bridle on the donkey, and throwing a couple of bags on his back. "Now, then, little missis," said the younger man, rising, and leading the donkey forward, "tell us where you live; what's the name o' the place?" "Dorlcote Mill is my home," said Maggie, eagerly. "My father is Mr.
All his sister's remonstrances he answered with cold obstinacy. For his character in its strength was hard. Tom had laboured to one end in these years: to pay off his father's creditors, and regain Dorlcote Mill. By his industry, and by some successful private ventures in trade, the day came when the first of the objects was realised, and Mr. Tulliver lived to see himself free of debt. But Mr.
It would not, he acknowledged, be a bad speculation for Guest & Co. to buy Dorlcote Mill, and carry on the business, which was a good one, and might be increased by the addition of steam power; in which case Tulliver might be retained as manager. Still, Mr.
"Dorlcote Mill's been in our family a hundred year and better, and nobody ever heard of a Pivart meddling with the river, till this fellow came and bought Bincome's farm out of hand, before anybody else could so much as say 'snap. But I'll Pivart him!" added Mr. Tulliver, lifting his glass with a sense that he had defined his resolution in an unmistakable manner.
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