been with the sisters at Lausanne.

"Was I ever high-colored, Tantripp?" said Dorothea, smiling faintly.

"Well, not to say high-colored, but with a bloom like a Chiny rose.
But always smelling those leather books, what can be expected? Do rest
a little this morning, madam. Let me say you are ill and not able to
go into that close library."

"Oh no, no! let me make haste," said Dorothea. "Mr. Casaubon wants me
particularly."

When she went down she felt sure that she should promise to fulfil his
wishes; but that would be later in the day--not yet.

As Dorothea entered the library, Mr. Casaubon turned round from the
table where he had been placing some books, and said--

"I was waiting for your appearance, my dear. I had hoped to set to
work at once this morning, but I find myself under some indisposition,
probably from too much excitement yesterday. I am going now to take a
turn in the shrubbery, since the air is milder."

"I am glad to hear that," said Dorothea. "Your mind, I feared, was too
active last night."

"I would fain have it set at rest on the point I last spoke of,
Dorothea. You can now, I hope, give me an answer."

"May I come out to you in the garden presently?" said Dorothea, winning
a little breathing space in that way.

"I shall be in the Yew-tree Walk for the next half-hour," said Mr.
Casaubon, and then he left her.

Dorothea, feeling very weary, rang and asked Tantripp to bring her some
wraps. She had been sitting still for a few minutes, but not in any
renewal of the former conflict: she simply felt that she was going to
say "Yes" to her own doom: she was too weak, too full of dread at the
thought of inflicting a keen-edged blow on her husband, to do anything
but submit completely. She sat still and let Tantripp put on her
bonnet and shawl, a passivity which was unusual with her, for she liked
to wait on herself.

"God bless you, madam!" said Tantripp, with an irrepressible movement
of love towards the beautiful, gentle creature for whom she felt unable
to do anything more, now that she had finished tying the bonnet.

This was too much for Dorothea's highly-strung feeling, and she burst
into tears, sobbing against Tantripp's arm. But soon she checked
herself, dried her eyes, and went out at the glass door into the
shrubbery.

"I wish every book in that library was built into a caticom for your
master," said Tantripp to Pratt, the butler, finding him in the
breakfast-room. S