"Good God! this is just what might have been expected," was his

immediate thought. If his prophetic soul had been urged to

particularize, it seemed to him that "fits" would have been the

definite expression alighted upon. He asked his informant, the butler,

whether the doctor had been sent for. The butler never knew his master

to want the doctor before; but would it not be right to send for a

physician?

When Sir James entered the library, however, Mr. Casaubon could make

some signs of his usual politeness, and Dorothea, who in the reaction

from her first terror had been kneeling and sobbing by his side now

rose and herself proposed that some one should ride off for a medical

man.

"I recommend you to send for Lydgate," said Sir James. "My mother has

called him in, and she has found him uncommonly clever. She has had a

poor opinion of the physicians since my father's death."

Dorothea appealed to her husband, and he made a silent sign of

approval. So Mr. Lydgate was sent for and he came wonderfully soon,

for the messenger, who was Sir James Chettam's man and knew Mr.

Lydgate, met him leading his horse along the Lowick road and giving his

arm to Miss Vincy.

Celia, in the drawing-room, had known nothing of the trouble till Sir

James told her of it. After Dorothea's account, he no longer

considered the illness a fit, but still something "of that nature."

"Poor dear Dodo--how dreadful!" said Celia, feeling as much grieved as

her own perfect happiness would allow. Her little hands were clasped,

and enclosed by Sir James's as a bud is enfolded by a liberal calyx.

"It is very shocking that Mr. Casaubon should be ill; but I never did

like him. And I think he is not half fond enough of Dorothea; and he

ought to be, for I am sure no one else would have had him--do you

think they would?"

"I always thought it a horrible sacrifice of your sister," said Sir

James.

"Yes. But poor Dodo never did do what other people do, and I think she

never will."

"She is a noble creature," said the loyal-hearted Sir James. He had

just had a fresh impression of this kind, as he had seen Dorothea

stretching her tender arm under her husband's neck and looking at him

with unspeakable sorrow. He did not know how much penitence there was

in the sorrow.

"Yes," said Celia, thinking it was very well for Sir James to say so,

but _he_ would not have been comfortable with Dodo. "Shall I go to

her? Could I help her, do you think?"




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