"Queens hereafter might be glad to live
Upon the alms of her superfluous praise."
But this result was questionable. And what else could he do for
Dorothea? What was his devotion worth to her? It was impossible to
tell. He would not go out of her reach. He saw no creature among her
friends to whom he could believe that she spoke with the same simple
confidence as to him. She had once said that she would like him to
stay; and stay he would, whatever fire-breathing dragons might hiss
around her.
This had always been the conclusion of Will's hesitations. But he was
not without contradictoriness and rebellion even towards his own
resolve. He had often got irritated, as he was on this particular
night, by some outside demonstration that his public exertions with Mr.
Brooke as a chief could not seem as heroic as he would like them to be,
and this was always associated with the other ground of
irritation--that notwithstanding his sacrifice of dignity for
Dorothea's sake, he could hardly ever see her. Whereupon, not being
able to contradict these unpleasant facts, he contradicted his own
strongest bias and said, "I am a fool."
Nevertheless, since the inward debate necessarily turned on Dorothea,
he ended, as he had done before, only by getting a livelier sense of
what her presence would be to him; and suddenly reflecting that the
morrow would be Sunday, he determined to go to Lowick Church and see
her. He slept upon that idea, but when he was dressing in the rational
morning light, Objection said--
"That will be a virtual defiance of Mr. Casaubon's prohibition to visit
Lowick, and Dorothea will be displeased."
"Nonsense!" argued Inclination, "it would be too monstrous for him to
hinder me from going out to a pretty country church on a spring
morning. And Dorothea will be glad."
"It will be clear to Mr. Casaubon that you have come either to annoy
him or to see Dorothea."
"It is not true that I go to annoy him, and why should I not go to see
Dorothea? Is he to have everything to himself and be always
comfortable? Let him smart a little, as other people are obliged to
do. I have always liked the quaintness of the church and congregation;
besides, I know the Tuckers: I shall go into their pew."
Having silenced Objection by force of unreason, Will walked to Lowick
as if he had been on the way to Paradise, crossing Halsell Common and
skirting the wood, where the sunlight fell broadly under the budding
boughs, bringing out the beauties of moss and lichen, and fresh green
growths piercing the brown. Everything seemed to know that it was
Sunday, and to approve of his going to Lowick Church. Will easily felt
happy when nothing crossed his humor, and by this time the thought of
vexing Mr. Casaubon had become rather amusing to him, making his face
break into its merry smile, pleasant to see as the breaking of sunshine
on the water--though the occasion was not exemplary. But most of us
are apt to settle within ourselves that the man who blocks our way is
odious, and not to mind causing him a little of the disgust which his
personality excites in ourselves. Will went along with a small book
under his arm and a hand in each side-pocket, never reading, but
chanting a little, as he made scenes of what would happen in church and
coming out. He was experimenting in tunes to suit some words of his
own, sometimes trying a ready-made melody, sometimes improvising. The
words were not exactly a hymn, but they certainly fitted his Sunday
experience:--