Will, however, having given that annihilating pinch, was rather
ashamed, imagining from Dorothea's silence that he had offended her
still more; and having also a conscience about plucking the
tail-feathers from a benefactor.
"I regretted it especially," he resumed, taking the usual course from
detraction to insincere eulogy, "because of my gratitude and respect
towards my cousin. It would not signify so much in a man whose talents
and character were less distinguished."
Dorothea raised her eyes, brighter than usual with excited feeling, and
said in her saddest recitative, "How I wish I had learned German when I
was at Lausanne! There were plenty of German teachers. But now I can
be of no use."
There was a new light, but still a mysterious light, for Will in
Dorothea's last words. The question how she had come to accept Mr.
Casaubon--which he had dismissed when he first saw her by saying that
she must be disagreeable in spite of appearances--was not now to be
answered on any such short and easy method. Whatever else she might
be, she was not disagreeable. She was not coldly clever and indirectly
satirical, but adorably simple and full of feeling. She was an angel
beguiled. It would be a unique delight to wait and watch for the
melodious fragments in which her heart and soul came forth so directly
and ingenuously. The AEolian harp again came into his mind.
She must have made some original romance for herself in this marriage.
And if Mr. Casaubon had been a dragon who had carried her off to his
lair with his talons simply and without legal forms, it would have been
an unavoidable feat of heroism to release her and fall at her feet.
But he was something more unmanageable than a dragon: he was a
benefactor with collective society at his back, and he was at that
moment entering the room in all the unimpeachable correctness of his
demeanor, while Dorothea was looking animated with a newly roused alarm
and regret, and Will was looking animated with his admiring speculation
about her feelings.
Mr. Casaubon felt a surprise which was quite unmixed with pleasure, but
he did not swerve from his usual politeness of greeting, when Will rose
and explained his presence. Mr. Casaubon was less happy than usual,
and this perhaps made him look all the dimmer and more faded; else, the
effect might easily have been produced by the contrast of his young
cousin's appearance. The first impression on seeing Will was one of
sunny brightness, which added to the uncertainty of his changing
expression. Surely, his very features changed their form, his jaw
looked sometimes large and sometimes small; and the little ripple in
his nose was a preparation for metamorphosis. When he turned his head
quickly his hair seemed to shake out light, and some persons thought
they saw decided genius in this coruscation. Mr. Casaubon, on the
contrary, stood rayless.