The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the learning, for when

Dorothea was impelled to open her mind on certain themes which she

could speak of to no one whom she had before seen at Tipton, especially

on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of

belief compared with that spiritual religion, that submergence of self

in communion with Divine perfection which seemed to her to be expressed

in the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she found in Mr.

Casaubon a listener who understood her at once, who could assure her of

his own agreement with that view when duly tempered with wise

conformity, and could mention historical examples before unknown to her.

"He thinks with me," said Dorothea to herself, "or rather, he thinks a

whole world of which my thought is but a poor twopenny mirror. And his

feelings too, his whole experience--what a lake compared with my little

pool!"

Miss Brooke argued from words and dispositions not less unhesitatingly

than other young ladies of her age. Signs are small measurable things,

but interpretations are illimitable, and in girls of sweet, ardent

nature, every sign is apt to conjure up wonder, hope, belief, vast as a

sky, and colored by a diffused thimbleful of matter in the shape of

knowledge. They are not always too grossly deceived; for Sinbad

himself may have fallen by good-luck on a true description, and wrong

reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a

long way off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we

now and then arrive just where we ought to be. Because Miss Brooke was

hasty in her trust, it is not therefore clear that Mr. Casaubon was

unworthy of it.

He stayed a little longer than he had intended, on a slight pressure of

invitation from Mr. Brooke, who offered no bait except his own

documents on machine-breaking and rick-burning. Mr. Casaubon was called

into the library to look at these in a heap, while his host picked up

first one and then the other to read aloud from in a skipping and

uncertain way, passing from one unfinished passage to another with a

"Yes, now, but here!" and finally pushing them all aside to open the

journal of his youthful Continental travels.

"Look here--here is all about Greece. Rhamnus, the ruins of

Rhamnus--you are a great Grecian, now. I don't know whether you have

given much study to the topography. I spent no end of time in making

out these things--Helicon, now. Here, now!--'We started the next

morning for Parnassus, the double-peaked Parnassus.' All this volume is

about Greece, you know," Mr. Brooke wound up, rubbing his thumb

transversely along the edges of the leaves as he held the book forward.




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