"No, don't think that," said Dorothea. "I have no longings."
He did not speak, but she replied to some change in his expression. "I
mean, for myself. Except that I should like not to have so much more
than my share without doing anything for others. But I have a belief
of my own, and it comforts me."
"What is that?" said Will, rather jealous of the belief.
"That by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don't quite know
what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power
against evil--widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with
darkness narrower."
"That is a beautiful mysticism--it is a--"
"Please not to call it by any name," said Dorothea, putting out her
hands entreatingly. "You will say it is Persian, or something else
geographical. It is my life. I have found it out, and cannot part
with it. I have always been finding out my religion since I was a
little girl. I used to pray so much--now I hardly ever pray. I try
not to have desires merely for myself, because they may not be good for
others, and I have too much already. I only told you, that you might
know quite well how my days go at Lowick."
"God bless you for telling me!" said Will, ardently, and rather
wondering at himself. They were looking at each other like two fond
children who were talking confidentially of birds.
"What is _your_ religion?" said Dorothea. "I mean--not what you know
about religion, but the belief that helps you most?"
"To love what is good and beautiful when I see it," said Will. "But I
am a rebel: I don't feel bound, as you do, to submit to what I don't
like."
"But if you like what is good, that comes to the same thing," said
Dorothea, smiling.
"Now you are subtle," said Will.
"Yes; Mr. Casaubon often says I am too subtle. I don't feel as if I
were subtle," said Dorothea, playfully. "But how long my uncle is! I
must go and look for him. I must really go on to the Hall. Celia is
expecting me."
Will offered to tell Mr. Brooke, who presently came and said that he
would step into the carriage and go with Dorothea as far as Dagley's,
to speak about the small delinquent who had been caught with the
leveret. Dorothea renewed the subject of the estate as they drove
along, but Mr. Brooke, not being taken unawares, got the talk under his
own control.
"Chettam, now," he replied; "he finds fault with me, my dear; but I
should not preserve my game if it were not for Chettam, and he can't
say that that expense is for the sake of the tenants, you know. It's a
little against my feeling:--poaching, now, if you come to look into
it--I have often thought of getting up the subject. Not long ago,
Flavell, the Methodist preacher, was brought up for knocking down a
hare that came across his path when he and his wife were walking out
together. He was pretty quick, and knocked it on the neck."