m. If I die--and he is waiting here on the watch for
that--he will persuade her to marry him. That would be calamity for
her and success for him. _She_ would not think it calamity: he would
make her believe anything; she has a tendency to immoderate attachment
which she inwardly reproaches me for not responding to, and already her
mind is occupied with his fortunes. He thinks of an easy conquest and
of entering into my nest. That I will hinder! Such a marriage would be
fatal to Dorothea. Has he ever persisted in anything except from
contradiction? In knowledge he has always tried to be showy at small
cost. In religion he could be, as long as it suited him, the facile
echo of Dorothea's vagaries. When was sciolism ever dissociated from
laxity? I utterly distrust his morals, and it is my duty to hinder to
the utmost the fulfilment of his designs."

The arrangements made by Mr. Casaubon on his marriage left strong
measures open to him, but in ruminating on them his mind inevitably
dwelt so much on the probabilities of his own life that the longing to
get the nearest possible calculation had at last overcome his proud
reticence, and had determined him to ask Lydgate's opinion as to the
nature of his illness.

He had mentioned to Dorothea that Lydgate was coming by appointment at
half-past three, and in answer to her anxious question, whether he had
felt ill, replied,--"No, I merely wish to have his opinion concerning
some habitual symptoms. You need not see him, my dear. I shall give
orders that he may be sent to me in the Yew-tree Walk, where I shall be
taking my usual exercise."

When Lydgate entered the Yew-tree Walk he saw Mr. Casaubon slowly
receding with his hands behind him according to his habit, and his head
bent forward. It was a lovely afternoon; the leaves from the lofty
limes were falling silently across the sombre evergreens, while the
lights and shadows slept side by side: there was no sound but the
cawing of the rooks, which to the accustomed ear is a lullaby, or that
last solemn lullaby, a dirge. Lydgate, conscious of an energetic frame
in its prime, felt some compassion when the figure which he was likely
soon to overtake turned round, and in advancing towards him showed more
markedly than ever the signs of premature age--the student's bent
shoulders, the emaciated limbs, and the melancholy lines of the mouth.
"Poor fellow," he thought, "some men with his years are like lions; one
can tell