"If Dorothea had kept near her uncle, there would have been some
chance," said Sir James. "She might have got some power over him in
time, and she was always uneasy about the estate. She had wonderfully
good notions about such things. But now Casaubon takes her up
entirely. Celia complains a good deal. We can hardly get her to dine
with us, since he had that fit." Sir James ended with a look of pitying
disgust, and Mrs. Cadwallader shrugged her shoulders as much as to say
that _she_ was not likely to see anything new in that direction.
"Poor Casaubon!" the Rector said. "That was a nasty attack. I thought
he looked shattered the other day at the Archdeacon's."
"In point of fact," resumed Sir James, not choosing to dwell on "fits,"
"Brooke doesn't mean badly by his tenants or any one else, but he has
got that way of paring and clipping at expenses."
"Come, that's a blessing," said Mrs. Cadwallader. "That helps him to
find himself in a morning. He may not know his own opinions, but he
does know his own pocket."
"I don't believe a man is in pocket by stinginess on his land," said
Sir James.
"Oh, stinginess may be abused like other virtues: it will not do to
keep one's own pigs lean," said Mrs. Cadwallader, who had risen to look
out of the window. "But talk of an independent politician and he will
appear."
"What! Brooke?" said her husband.
"Yes. Now, you ply him with the 'Trumpet,' Humphrey; and I will put
the leeches on him. What will you do, Sir James?"
"The fact is, I don't like to begin about it with Brooke, in our mutual
position; the whole thing is so unpleasant. I do wish people would
behave like gentlemen," said the good baronet, feeling that this was a
simple and comprehensive programme for social well-being.
"Here you all are, eh?" said Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and shaking
hands. "I was going up to the Hall by-and-by, Chettam. But it's
pleasant to find everybody, you know. Well, what do you think of
things?--going on a little fast! It was true enough, what Lafitte
said--'Since yesterday, a century has passed away:'--they're in the
next century, you know, on the other side of the water. Going on
faster than we are."
"Why, yes," said the Rector, taking up the newspaper. "Here is the
'Trumpet' accusing you of lagging behind--did you see?"
"Eh? no," said Mr. Brooke, dropping his gloves into his hat and hastily
adjusting his eye-glass. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the paper in his
hand, saying, with a smile in his eyes--