MIDDLEMARCH (Completed)

Chapter 8

"Oh, rescue her! I am her brother now,

And you her father. Every gentle maid

Should have a guardian in each gentleman."

It was wonderful to Sir James Chettam how well he continued to like

going to the Grange after he had once encountered the difficulty

of seeing Dorothea for the first time in the light of a woman who was

engaged to another man. Of course the forked lightning seemed to pass

through him when he first approached her, and he remained conscious

throughout the interview of hiding uneasiness; but, good as he was,

it must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have

been if he had thought his rival a brilliant and desirable match.

He had no sense of being eclipsed by Mr. Casaubon; he was only shocked

that Dorothea was under a melancholy illusion, and his mortification

lost some of its bitterness by being mingled with compassion.

Nevertheless, while Sir James said to himself that he had

completely resigned her, since with the perversity of a Desdemona

she had not affected a proposed match that was clearly suitable

and according to nature; he could not yet be quite passive under

the idea of her engagement to Mr. Casaubon. On the day when he

first saw them together in the light of his present knowledge,

it seemed to him that he had not taken the affair seriously enough.

Brooke was really culpable; he ought to have hindered it. Who could

speak to him? Something might be done perhaps even now, at least

to defer the marriage. On his way home he turned into the Rectory

and asked for Mr. Cadwallader. Happily, the Rector was at home,

and his visitor was shown into the study, where all the fishing

tackle hung. But he himself was in a little room adjoining,

at work with his turning apparatus, and he called to the baronet

to join him there. The two were better friends than any other

landholder and clergyman in the county--a significant fact

which was in agreement with the amiable expression of their faces.

Mr. Cadwallader was a large man, with full lips and a sweet smile;

very plain and rough in his exterior, but with that solid imperturbable

ease and good-humor which is infectious, and like great grassy hills

in the sunshine, quiets even an irritated egoism, and makes it

rather ashamed of itself. "Well, how are you?" he said, showing a

hand not quite fit to be grasped. "Sorry I missed you before.

Is there anything particular? You look vexed."

Sir James's brow had a little crease in it, a little depression

of the eyebrow, which he seemed purposely to exaggerate as he answered.