"Yes, but the word has dropped out of the text, or perhaps was

subauditum; that is, present in the king's mind, but not uttered," said

Mr. Casaubon, smiling and bending his head towards Celia, who

immediately dropped backward a little, because she could not bear Mr.

Casaubon to blink at her.

Dorothea sank into silence on the way back to the house. She felt some

disappointment, of which she was yet ashamed, that there was nothing

for her to do in Lowick; and in the next few minutes her mind had

glanced over the possibility, which she would have preferred, of

finding that her home would be in a parish which had a larger share of

the world's misery, so that she might have had more active duties in

it. Then, recurring to the future actually before her, she made a

picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Casaubon's aims in which she

would await new duties. Many such might reveal themselves to the

higher knowledge gained by her in that companionship.

Mr. Tucker soon left them, having some clerical work which would not

allow him to lunch at the Hall; and as they were re-entering the garden

through the little gate, Mr. Casaubon said--

"You seem a little sad, Dorothea. I trust you are pleased with what

you have seen."

"I am feeling something which is perhaps foolish and wrong," answered

Dorothea, with her usual openness--"almost wishing that the people

wanted more to be done for them here. I have known so few ways of

making my life good for anything. Of course, my notions of usefulness

must be narrow. I must learn new ways of helping people."

"Doubtless," said Mr. Casaubon. "Each position has its corresponding

duties. Yours, I trust, as the mistress of Lowick, will not leave any

yearning unfulfilled."

"Indeed, I believe that," said Dorothea, earnestly. "Do not suppose

that I am sad."

"That is well. But, if you are not tired, we will take another way to

the house than that by which we came."

Dorothea was not at all tired, and a little circuit was made towards a

fine yew-tree, the chief hereditary glory of the grounds on this side

of the house. As they approached it, a figure, conspicuous on a dark

background of evergreens, was seated on a bench, sketching the old

tree. Mr. Brooke, who was walking in front with Celia, turned his

head, and said--

"Who is that youngster, Casaubon?"

They had come very near when Mr. Casaubon answered--

"That is a young relative of mine, a second cousin: the grandson, in

fact," he added, looking at Dorothea, "of the lady whose portrait you

have been noticing, my aunt Julia."




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