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Casaubon
’
s
theory
of
the
elements
which
made
the
seed
of
all
tradition
was
not
likely
to
bruise
itself
unawares
against
discoveries
:
it
floated
among
flexible
conjectures
no
more
solid
than
those
etymologies
which
seemed
strong
because
of
likeness
in
sound
until
it
was
shown
that
likeness
in
sound
made
them
impossible
:
it
was
a
method
of
interpretation
which
was
not
tested
by
the
necessity
of
forming
anything
which
had
sharper
collisions
than
an
elaborate
notion
of
Gog
and
Magog
:
it
was
as
free
from
interruption
as
a
plan
for
threading
the
stars
together
.
And
Dorothea
had
so
often
had
to
check
her
weariness
and
impatience
over
this
questionable
riddle
-
guessing
,
as
it
revealed
itself
to
her
instead
of
the
fellowship
in
high
knowledge
which
was
to
make
life
worthier
!
She
could
understand
well
enough
now
why
her
husband
had
come
to
cling
to
her
,
as
possibly
the
only
hope
left
that
his
labors
would
ever
take
a
shape
in
which
they
could
be
given
to
the
world
.
At
first
it
had
seemed
that
he
wished
to
keep
even
her
aloof
from
any
close
knowledge
of
what
he
was
doing
;
but
gradually
the
terrible
stringency
of
human
need
—
the
prospect
of
a
too
speedy
death
—
And
here
Dorothea
’
s
pity
turned
from
her
own
future
to
her
husband
’
s
past
—
nay
,
to
his
present
hard
struggle
with
a
lot
which
had
grown
out
of
that
past
:
the
lonely
labor
,
the
ambition
breathing
hardly
under
the
pressure
of
self
-
distrust
;
the
goal
receding
,
and
the
heavier
limbs
;
and
now
at
last
the
sword
visibly
trembling
above
him
!
And
had
she
not
wished
to
marry
him
that
she
might
help
him
in
his
life
’
s
labor
?
—
But
she
had
thought
the
work
was
to
be
something
greater
,
which
she
could
serve
in
devoutly
for
its
own
sake
.
Was
it
right
,
even
to
soothe
his
grief
—
would
it
be
possible
,
even
if
she
promised
—
to
work
as
in
a
treadmill
fruitlessly
?
And
yet
,
could
she
deny
him
?
Could
she
say
,
"
I
refuse
to
content
this
pining
hunger
?
"
It
would
be
refusing
to
do
for
him
dead
,
what
she
was
almost
sure
to
do
for
him
living
.
If
he
lived
as
Lydgate
had
said
he
might
,
for
fifteen
years
or
more
,
her
life
would
certainly
be
spent
in
helping
him
and
obeying
him
.
Still
,
there
was
a
deep
difference
between
that
devotion
to
the
living
and
that
indefinite
promise
of
devotion
to
the
dead
.
While
he
lived
,
he
could
claim
nothing
that
she
would
not
still
be
free
to
remonstrate
against
,
and
even
to
refuse
.
But
—
the
thought
passed
through
her
mind
more
than
once
,
though
she
could
not
believe
in
it
—
might
he
not
mean
to
demand
something
more
from
her
than
she
had
been
able
to
imagine
,
since
he
wanted
her
pledge
to
carry
out
his
wishes
without
telling
her
exactly
what
they
were
?
No
;
his
heart
was
bound
up
in
his
work
only
:
that
was
the
end
for
which
his
failing
life
was
to
be
eked
out
by
hers
.
And
now
,
if
she
were
to
say
,
"
No
!
if
you
die
,
I
will
put
no
finger
to
your
work
"
—
it
seemed
as
if
she
would
be
crushing
that
bruised
heart
.
For
four
hours
Dorothea
lay
in
this
conflict
,
till
she
felt
ill
and
bewildered
,
unable
to
resolve
,
praying
mutely
.
Helpless
as
a
child
which
has
sobbed
and
sought
too
long
,
she
fell
into
a
late
morning
sleep
,
and
when
she
waked
Mr
.
Casaubon
was
already
up
.
Tantripp
told
her
that
he
had
read
prayers
,
breakfasted
,
and
was
in
the
library
.
"
I
never
saw
you
look
so
pale
,
madam
,
"
said
Tantripp
,
a
solid
-
figured
woman
who
had
been
with
the
sisters
at
Lausanne
.
"
Was
I
ever
high
-
colored
,
Tantripp
?
"
said
Dorothea
,
smiling
faintly
.
