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But
that
gentleman
’
s
eyes
were
on
the
button
of
the
pew
-
door
,
which
he
opened
,
allowing
Dorothea
to
pass
,
and
following
her
immediately
without
raising
his
eyelids
.
Will
’
s
glance
had
caught
Dorothea
’
s
as
she
turned
out
of
the
pew
,
and
again
she
bowed
,
but
this
time
with
a
look
of
agitation
,
as
if
she
were
repressing
tears
.
Will
walked
out
after
them
,
but
they
went
on
towards
the
little
gate
leading
out
of
the
churchyard
into
the
shrubbery
,
never
looking
round
.
It
was
impossible
for
him
to
follow
them
,
and
he
could
only
walk
back
sadly
at
mid
-
day
along
the
same
road
which
he
had
trodden
hopefully
in
the
morning
.
The
lights
were
all
changed
for
him
both
without
and
within
.
Surely
the
golden
hours
are
turning
grayAnd
dance
no
more
,
and
vainly
strive
to
run
:
I
see
their
white
locks
streaming
in
the
wind
—
Each
face
is
haggard
as
it
looks
at
me
,
Slow
turning
in
the
constant
clasping
roundStorm
-
driven
.
Dorothea
’
s
distress
when
she
was
leaving
the
church
came
chiefly
from
the
perception
that
Mr
.
Casaubon
was
determined
not
to
speak
to
his
cousin
,
and
that
Will
’
s
presence
at
church
had
served
to
mark
more
strongly
the
alienation
between
them
.
Will
’
s
coming
seemed
to
her
quite
excusable
,
nay
,
she
thought
it
an
amiable
movement
in
him
towards
a
reconciliation
which
she
herself
had
been
constantly
wishing
for
.
He
had
probably
imagined
,
as
she
had
,
that
if
Mr
.
Casaubon
and
he
could
meet
easily
,
they
would
shake
hands
and
friendly
intercourse
might
return
.
But
now
Dorothea
felt
quite
robbed
of
that
hope
.
Will
was
banished
further
than
ever
,
for
Mr
.
Casaubon
must
have
been
newly
embittered
by
this
thrusting
upon
him
of
a
presence
which
he
refused
to
recognize
.
He
had
not
been
very
well
that
morning
,
suffering
from
some
difficulty
in
breathing
,
and
had
not
preached
in
consequence
;
she
was
not
surprised
,
therefore
,
that
he
was
nearly
silent
at
luncheon
,
still
less
that
he
made
no
allusion
to
Will
Ladislaw
.
For
her
own
part
she
felt
that
she
could
never
again
introduce
that
subject
.
They
usually
spent
apart
the
hours
between
luncheon
and
dinner
on
a
Sunday
;
Mr
.
Casaubon
in
the
library
dozing
chiefly
,
and
Dorothea
in
her
boudoir
,
where
she
was
wont
to
occupy
herself
with
some
of
her
favorite
books
.
There
was
a
little
heap
of
them
on
the
table
in
the
bow
-
window
—
of
various
sorts
,
from
Herodotus
,
which
she
was
learning
to
read
with
Mr
.
Casaubon
,
to
her
old
companion
Pascal
,
and
Keble
’
s
"
Christian
Year
.
"
But
to
-
day
opened
one
after
another
,
and
could
read
none
of
them
.
Everything
seemed
dreary
:
the
portents
before
the
birth
of
Cyrus
—
Jewish
antiquities
—
oh
dear
!
—
devout
epigrams
—
the
sacred
chime
of
favorite
hymns
—
all
alike
were
as
flat
as
tunes
beaten
on
wood
:
even
the
spring
flowers
and
the
grass
had
a
dull
shiver
in
them
under
the
afternoon
clouds
that
hid
the
sun
fitfully
;
even
the
sustaining
thoughts
which
had
become
habits
seemed
to
have
in
them
the
weariness
of
long
future
days
in
which
she
would
still
live
with
them
for
her
sole
companions
.
It
was
another
or
rather
a
fuller
sort
of
companionship
that
poor
Dorothea
was
hungering
for
,
and
the
hunger
had
grown
from
the
perpetual
effort
demanded
by
her
married
life
.
She
was
always
trying
to
be
what
her
husband
wished
,
and
never
able
to
repose
on
his
delight
in
what
she
was
.
The
thing
that
she
liked
,
that
she
spontaneously
cared
to
have
,
seemed
to
be
always
excluded
from
her
life
;
for
if
it
was
only
granted
and
not
shared
by
her
husband
it
might
as
well
have
been
denied
.
About
Will
Ladislaw
there
had
been
a
difference
between
them
from
the
first
,
and
it
had
ended
,
since
Mr
.
Casaubon
had
so
severely
repulsed
Dorothea
’
s
strong
feeling
about
his
claims
on
the
family
property
,
by
her
being
convinced
that
she
was
in
the
right
and
her
husband
in
the
wrong
,
but
that
she
was
helpless
.
This
afternoon
the
helplessness
was
more
wretchedly
benumbing
than
ever
:
she
longed
for
objects
who
could
be
dear
to
her
,
and
to
whom
she
could
be
dear
.
She
longed
for
work
which
would
be
directly
beneficent
like
the
sunshine
and
the
rain
,
and
now
it
appeared
that
she
was
to
live
more
and
more
in
a
virtual
tomb
,
where
there
was
the
apparatus
of
a
ghastly
labor
producing
what
would
never
see
the
light
.
Today
she
had
stood
at
the
door
of
the
tomb
and
seen
Will
Ladislaw
receding
into
the
distant
world
of
warm
activity
and
fellowship
—
turning
his
face
towards
her
as
he
went
.
Books
were
of
no
use
.
Thinking
was
of
no
use
.
It
was
Sunday
,
and
she
could
not
have
the
carriage
to
go
to
Celia
,
who
had
lately
had
a
baby
.
There
was
no
refuge
now
from
spiritual
emptiness
and
discontent
,
and
Dorothea
had
to
bear
her
bad
mood
,
as
she
would
have
borne
a
headache
.
After
dinner
,
at
the
hour
when
she
usually
began
to
read
aloud
,
Mr
.
Casaubon
proposed
that
they
should
go
into
the
library
,
where
,
he
said
,
he
had
ordered
a
fire
and
lights
.
He
seemed
to
have
revived
,
and
to
be
thinking
intently
.
In
the
library
Dorothea
observed
that
he
had
newly
arranged
a
row
of
his
note
-
books
on
a
table
,
and
now
he
took
up
and
put
into
her
hand
a
well
-
known
volume
,
which
was
a
table
of
contents
to
all
the
others
.
