George Eliot

“ I want you."
"Is there anything the matter, father?" said Tom.
"You sit down, all of you," said Mr. Tulliver, peremptorily.
"And, Tom, sit down here; I've got something for you to write i' the Bible."
They all three sat down, looking at him. He began to speak slowly, looking first at his wife.
"I've made up my mind, Bessy, and I'll be as good as my word to you. There'll be the same grave made for us to lie down in, and we mustn't be bearing one another ill-will. ”

“ I'll stop in the old place, and I'll serve under Wakem, and I'll serve him like an honest man; there's no Tulliver but what's honest, mind that, Tom,"–here his voice rose,–"they'll have it to throw up against me as I paid a dividend, but it wasn't my fault; it was because there's raskills in the world. They've been too many for me, and I must give in. I'll put my neck in harness,–for you've a right to say as I've brought you into trouble, Bessy,–and I'll serve him as honest as if he was no raskill; I'm an honest man, though I shall never hold my head up no more. ”

“ But he won't,–he's too big a raskill to let the law lay hold on him. And you mind this, Tom,–you never forgive him neither, if you mean to be my son. There'll maybe come a time when you may make him feel; it'll never come to me; I'n got my head under the yoke. Now write–write it i' the Bible."
"Oh, father, what?" said Maggie, sinking down by his knee, pale and trembling. "It's wicked to curse and bear malice."
"It isn't wicked, I tell you," said her father, fiercely. "It's wicked as the raskills should prosper; it's the Devil's doing. Do as I tell you, Tom. ”