She went into the summerhouse and said,
"I am come, Edward; I am ready."
He took no notice, and she thought that he must be fast asleep.
She laid her hand on his shoulder, and repeated,
"I am ready!"
Still he was motionless; and with a sudden confused fear, she leaned down to him, took off his velvet cap, and leaned her cheek close to his head, crying in a distressed tone—
"Wake, dear, wake!
Listen to me.
I am come to answer."
But Dorothea never gave her answer.
Later in the day, Lydgate was seated by her bedside, and she was talking deliriously, thinking aloud, and recalling what had gone through her mind the night before.
She knew him, and called him by his name, but appeared to think it right that she should explain everything to him; and again, and again, begged him to explain everything to her husband.
"Tell him I shall go to him soon: I am ready to promise.
Only, thinking about it was so dreadful—it has made me ill.
Not very ill.
I shall soon be better.
Go and tell him."
But the silence in her husband's ear was never more to be broken.
CHAPTER XLIX.
A task too strong for wizard spells
This squire had brought about;
'T is easy dropping stones in wells,
But who shall get them out?"
"I wish to God we could hinder Dorothea from knowing this," said Sir James Chettam, with a little frown on his brow, and an expression of intense disgust about his mouth.
He was standing on the hearth-rug in the library at Lowick Grange, and speaking to Mr. Brooke.
It was the day after Mr. Casaubon had been buried, and Dorothea was not yet able to leave her room.
"That would be difficult, you know, Chettam, as she is an executrix, and she likes to go into these things—property, land, that kind of thing. She has her notions, you know," said Mr. Brooke, sticking his eye-glasses on nervously, and exploring the edges of a folded paper which he held in his hand; "and she would like to act—depend upon it, as an executrix Dorothea would want to act.
And she was twenty-one last December, you know.
I can hinder nothing."
Sir James looked at the carpet for a minute in silence, and then lifting his eyes suddenly fixed them on Mr. Brooke, saying,
"I will tell you what we can do.
Until Dorothea is well, all business must be kept from her, and as soon as she is able to be moved she must come to us.
Being with Celia and the baby will be the best thing in the world for her, and will pass away the time.
And meanwhile you must get rid of Ladislaw: you must send him out of the country."
Here Sir James's look of disgust returned in all its intensity.
Mr. Brooke put his hands behind him, walked to the window and straightened his back with a little shake before he replied.
"That is easily said, Chettam, easily said, you know."
"My dear sir," persisted Sir James, restraining his indignation within respectful forms, "it was you who brought him here, and you who keep him here—I mean by the occupation you give him."
"Yes, but I can't dismiss him in an instant without assigning reasons, my dear Chettam.
Ladislaw has been invaluable, most satisfactory.
I consider that I have done this part of the country a service by bringing him—by bringing him, you know."
Mr. Brooke ended with a nod, turning round to give it.
"It's a pity this part of the country didn't do without him, that's all I have to say about it.
At any rate, as Dorothea's brother-in-law, I feel warranted in objecting strongly to his being kept here by any action on the part of her friends.
You admit, I hope, that I have a right to speak about what concerns the dignity of my wife's sister?"
Sir James was getting warm.
"Of course, my dear Chettam, of course.
But you and I have different ideas—different—"
"Not about this action of Casaubon's, I should hope," interrupted Sir James.
"I say that he has most unfairly compromised Dorothea.