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I
have
neither
leisure
nor
energy
for
this
kind
of
debate
.
"
Here
Mr
.
Casaubon
dipped
his
pen
and
made
as
if
he
would
return
to
his
writing
,
though
his
hand
trembled
so
much
that
the
words
seemed
to
be
written
in
an
unknown
character
.
There
are
answers
which
,
in
turning
away
wrath
,
only
send
it
to
the
other
end
of
the
room
,
and
to
have
a
discussion
coolly
waived
when
you
feel
that
justice
is
all
on
your
own
side
is
even
more
exasperating
in
marriage
than
in
philosophy
.
Dorothea
left
Ladislaw
’
s
two
letters
unread
on
her
husband
’
s
writing
-
table
and
went
to
her
own
place
,
the
scorn
and
indignation
within
her
rejecting
the
reading
of
these
letters
,
just
as
we
hurl
away
any
trash
towards
which
we
seem
to
have
been
suspected
of
mean
cupidity
.
She
did
not
in
the
least
divine
the
subtle
sources
of
her
husband
’
s
bad
temper
about
these
letters
:
she
only
knew
that
they
had
caused
him
to
offend
her
.
She
began
to
work
at
once
,
and
her
hand
did
not
tremble
;
on
the
contrary
,
in
writing
out
the
quotations
which
had
been
given
to
her
the
day
before
,
she
felt
that
she
was
forming
her
letters
beautifully
,
and
it
seemed
to
her
that
she
saw
the
construction
of
the
Latin
she
was
copying
,
and
which
she
was
beginning
to
understand
,
more
clearly
than
usual
.
In
her
indignation
there
was
a
sense
of
superiority
,
but
it
went
out
for
the
present
in
firmness
of
stroke
,
and
did
not
compress
itself
into
an
inward
articulate
voice
pronouncing
the
once
"
affable
archangel
"
a
poor
creature
.
There
had
been
this
apparent
quiet
for
half
an
hour
,
and
Dorothea
had
not
looked
away
from
her
own
table
,
when
she
heard
the
loud
bang
of
a
book
on
the
floor
,
and
turning
quickly
saw
Mr
.
Casaubon
on
the
library
steps
clinging
forward
as
if
he
were
in
some
bodily
distress
.
She
started
up
and
bounded
towards
him
in
an
instant
:
he
was
evidently
in
great
straits
for
breath
.
Jumping
on
a
stool
she
got
close
to
his
elbow
and
said
with
her
whole
soul
melted
into
tender
alarm
—
"
Can
you
lean
on
me
,
dear
?
"
He
was
still
for
two
or
three
minutes
,
which
seemed
endless
to
her
,
unable
to
speak
or
move
,
gasping
for
breath
.
When
at
last
he
descended
the
three
steps
and
fell
backward
in
the
large
chair
which
Dorothea
had
drawn
close
to
the
foot
of
the
ladder
,
he
no
longer
gasped
but
seemed
helpless
and
about
to
faint
.
Dorothea
rang
the
bell
violently
,
and
presently
Mr
.
Casaubon
was
helped
to
the
couch
:
he
did
not
faint
,
and
was
gradually
reviving
,
when
Sir
James
Chettam
came
in
,
having
been
met
in
the
hall
with
the
news
that
Mr
.
Casaubon
had
"
had
a
fit
in
the
library
.
"
"
Good
God
!
this
is
just
what
might
have
been
expected
,
"
was
his
immediate
thought
.
If
his
prophetic
soul
had
been
urged
to
particularize
,
it
seemed
to
him
that
"
fits
"
would
have
been
the
definite
expression
alighted
upon
.
He
asked
his
informant
,
the
butler
,
whether
the
doctor
had
been
sent
for
.
The
butler
never
knew
his
master
want
the
doctor
before
;
but
would
it
not
be
right
to
send
for
a
physician
?
When
Sir
James
entered
the
library
,
however
,
Mr
.
Casaubon
could
make
some
signs
of
his
usual
politeness
,
and
Dorothea
,
who
in
the
reaction
from
her
first
terror
had
been
kneeling
and
sobbing
by
his
side
now
rose
and
herself
proposed
that
some
one
should
ride
off
for
a
medical
man
.
"
I
recommend
you
to
send
for
Lydgate
,
"
said
Sir
James
.
"
My
mother
has
called
him
in
,
and
she
has
found
him
uncommonly
clever
.
She
has
had
a
poor
opinion
of
the
physicians
since
my
father
’
s
death
.
"
