Without Mr. Brooke's advice, Lydgate had determined on speaking to
Dorothea. She had not been present while her uncle was throwing out
his pleasant suggestions as to the mode in which life at Lowick might
be enlivened, but she was usually by her husband's side, and the
unaffected signs of intense anxiety in her face and voice about
whatever touched his mind or health, made a drama which Lydgate was
inclined to watch. He said to himself that he was only doing right in
telling her the truth about her husband's probable future, but he
certainly thought also that it would be interesting to talk
confidentially with her. A medical man likes to make psychological
observations, and sometimes in the pursuit of such studies is too
easily tempted into momentous prophecy which life and death easily set
at nought. Lydgate had often been satirical on this gratuitous
prediction, and he meant now to be guarded.
He asked for Mrs. Casaubon, but being told that she was out walking, he
was going away, when Dorothea and Celia appeared, both glowing from
their struggle with the March wind. When Lydgate begged to speak with
her alone, Dorothea opened the library door which happened to be the
nearest, thinking of nothing at the moment but what he might have to
say about Mr. Casaubon. It was the first time she had entered this
room since her husband had been taken ill, and the servant had chosen
not to open the shutters. But there was light enough to read by from
the narrow upper panes of the windows.
"You will not mind this sombre light," said Dorothea, standing in the
middle of the room. "Since you forbade books, the library has been out
of the question. But Mr. Casaubon will soon be here again, I hope. Is
he not making progress?"
"Yes, much more rapid progress than I at first expected. Indeed, he is
already nearly in his usual state of health."
"You do not fear that the illness will return?" said Dorothea, whose
quick ear had detected some significance in Lydgate's tone.
"Such cases are peculiarly difficult to pronounce upon," said Lydgate.
"The only point on which I can be confident is that it will be
desirable to be very watchful on Mr. Casaubon's account, lest he should
in any way strain his nervous power."
"I beseech you to speak quite plainly," said Dorothea, in an imploring
tone. "I cannot bear to think that there might be something which I
did not know, and which, if I had known it, would have made me act
differently." The words came out like a cry: it was evident that they
were the voice of some mental experience which lay not very far off.