Middlemarch - Page 223/561

"Sit down," she added, placing herself on the nearest chair, and

throwing off her bonnet and gloves, with an instinctive discarding of

formality where a great question of destiny was concerned.

"What you say now justifies my own view," said Lydgate. "I think it is

one's function as a medical man to hinder regrets of that sort as far

as possible. But I beg you to observe that Mr. Casaubon's case is

precisely of the kind in which the issue is most difficult to pronounce

upon. He may possibly live for fifteen years or more, without much

worse health than he has had hitherto."

Dorothea had turned very pale, and when Lydgate paused she said in a

low voice, "You mean if we are very careful."

"Yes--careful against mental agitation of all kinds, and against

excessive application."

"He would be miserable, if he had to give up his work," said Dorothea,

with a quick prevision of that wretchedness.

"I am aware of that. The only course is to try by all means, direct

and indirect, to moderate and vary his occupations. With a happy

concurrence of circumstances, there is, as I said, no immediate danger

from that affection of the heart, which I believe to have been the

cause of his late attack. On the other hand, it is possible that the

disease may develop itself more rapidly: it is one of those eases in

which death is sometimes sudden. Nothing should be neglected which

might be affected by such an issue."

There was silence for a few moments, while Dorothea sat as if she had

been turned to marble, though the life within her was so intense that

her mind had never before swept in brief time over an equal range of

scenes and motives.

"Help me, pray," she said, at last, in the same low voice as before.

"Tell me what I can do."

"What do you think of foreign travel? You have been lately in Rome, I

think."

The memories which made this resource utterly hopeless were a new

current that shook Dorothea out of her pallid immobility.

"Oh, that would not do--that would be worse than anything," she said

with a more childlike despondency, while the tears rolled down.

"Nothing will be of any use that he does not enjoy."

"I wish that I could have spared you this pain," said Lydgate, deeply

touched, yet wondering about her marriage. Women just like Dorothea

had not entered into his traditions.

"It was right of you to tell me. I thank you for telling me the truth."

"I wish you to understand that I shall not say anything to enlighten

Mr. Casaubon himself. I think it desirable for him to know nothing

more than that he must not overwork himself, and must observe certain

rules. Anxiety of any kind would be precisely the most unfavorable

condition for him."