She bethought herself now of the condemned criminal. "What news have
you brought about the sheep-stealer, uncle?"
"What, poor Bunch?--well, it seems we can't get him off--he is to be
hanged."
Dorothea's brow took an expression of reprobation and pity.
"Hanged, you know," said Mr. Brooke, with a quiet nod. "Poor Romilly!
he would have helped us. I knew Romilly. Casaubon didn't know
Romilly. He is a little buried in books, you know, Casaubon is."
"When a man has great studies and is writing a great work, he must of
course give up seeing much of the world. How can he go about making
acquaintances?"
"That's true. But a man mopes, you know. I have always been a
bachelor too, but I have that sort of disposition that I never moped;
it was my way to go about everywhere and take in everything. I never
moped: but I can see that Casaubon does, you know. He wants a
companion--a companion, you know."
"It would be a great honor to any one to be his companion," said
Dorothea, energetically.
"You like him, eh?" said Mr. Brooke, without showing any surprise, or
other emotion. "Well, now, I've known Casaubon ten years, ever since
he came to Lowick. But I never got anything out of him--any ideas, you
know. However, he is a tiptop man and may be a bishop--that kind of
thing, you know, if Peel stays in. And he has a very high opinion of
you, my dear."
Dorothea could not speak.
"The fact is, he has a very high opinion indeed of you. And he speaks
uncommonly well--does Casaubon. He has deferred to me, you not being
of age. In short, I have promised to speak to you, though I told him I
thought there was not much chance. I was bound to tell him that. I
said, my niece is very young, and that kind of thing. But I didn't
think it necessary to go into everything. However, the long and the
short of it is, that he has asked my permission to make you an offer of
marriage--of marriage, you know," said Mr. Brooke, with his explanatory
nod. "I thought it better to tell you, my dear."
No one could have detected any anxiety in Mr. Brooke's manner, but he
did really wish to know something of his niece's mind, that, if there
were any need for advice, he might give it in time. What feeling he,
as a magistrate who had taken in so many ideas, could make room for,
was unmixedly kind. Since Dorothea did not speak immediately, he
repeated, "I thought it better to tell you, my dear."