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The
sun
was
low
when
Dorothea
was
thinking
that
she
would
not
go
down
again
,
but
would
send
a
message
to
her
husband
saying
that
she
was
not
well
and
preferred
remaining
up
-
stairs
.
She
had
never
deliberately
allowed
her
resentment
to
govern
her
in
this
way
before
,
but
she
believed
now
that
she
could
not
see
him
again
without
telling
him
the
truth
about
her
feeling
,
and
she
must
wait
till
she
could
do
it
without
interruption
.
He
might
wonder
and
be
hurt
at
her
message
.
It
was
good
that
he
should
wonder
and
be
hurt
.
Her
anger
said
,
as
anger
is
apt
to
say
,
that
God
was
with
her
—
that
all
heaven
,
though
it
were
crowded
with
spirits
watching
them
,
must
be
on
her
side
.
She
had
determined
to
ring
her
bell
,
when
there
came
a
rap
at
the
door
.
Mr
.
Casaubon
had
sent
to
say
that
he
would
have
his
dinner
in
the
library
.
He
wished
to
be
quite
alone
this
evening
,
being
much
occupied
.
"
I
shall
not
dine
,
then
,
Tantripp
.
"
"
Oh
,
madam
,
let
me
bring
you
a
little
something
?
"
"
No
;
I
am
not
well
.
Get
everything
ready
in
my
dressing
room
,
but
pray
do
not
disturb
me
again
.
"
Dorothea
sat
almost
motionless
in
her
meditative
struggle
,
while
the
evening
slowly
deepened
into
night
.
But
the
struggle
changed
continually
,
as
that
of
a
man
who
begins
with
a
movement
towards
striking
and
ends
with
conquering
his
desire
to
strike
.
The
energy
that
would
animate
a
crime
is
not
more
than
is
wanted
to
inspire
a
resolved
,
submission
,
when
the
noble
habit
of
the
soul
reasserts
itself
.
That
thought
with
which
Dorothea
had
gone
out
to
meet
her
husband
—
her
conviction
that
he
had
been
asking
about
the
possible
arrest
of
all
his
work
,
and
that
the
answer
must
have
wrung
his
heart
,
could
not
be
long
without
rising
beside
the
image
of
him
,
like
a
shadowy
monitor
looking
at
her
anger
with
sad
remonstrance
.
It
cost
her
a
litany
of
pictured
sorrows
and
of
silent
cries
that
she
might
be
the
mercy
for
those
sorrows
—
but
the
resolved
submission
did
come
;
and
when
the
house
was
still
,
and
she
knew
that
it
was
near
the
time
when
Mr
.
Casaubon
habitually
went
to
rest
,
she
opened
her
door
gently
and
stood
outside
in
the
darkness
waiting
for
his
coming
up
-
stairs
with
a
light
in
his
hand
.
If
he
did
not
come
soon
she
thought
that
she
would
go
down
and
even
risk
incurring
another
pang
.
She
would
never
again
expect
anything
else
But
she
did
hear
the
library
door
open
,
and
slowly
the
light
advanced
up
the
staircase
without
noise
from
the
footsteps
on
the
carpet
.
When
her
husband
stood
opposite
to
her
,
she
saw
that
his
face
was
more
haggard
.
He
started
slightly
on
seeing
her
,
and
she
looked
up
at
him
beseechingly
,
without
speaking
.
"
Dorothea
!
"
he
said
,
with
a
gentle
surprise
in
his
tone
.
"
Were
you
waiting
for
me
?
"
"
Yes
,
I
did
not
like
to
disturb
you
.
"
"
Come
,
my
dear
,
come
.
You
are
young
,
and
need
not
to
extend
your
life
by
watching
.
"
