 only. »I have little leisure for such
literature just now. I have been using up my eyesight on old characters lately;
the fact is, I want a reader for my evenings; but I am fastidious in voices, and
I cannot endure listening to an imperfect reader. It is a misfortune, in some
senses: I feed too much on the inward sources; I live too much with the dead. My
mind is something like the ghost of an ancient, wandering about the world and
trying mentally to construct it as it used to be, in spite of ruin and confusing
changes. But I find it necessary to use the utmost caution about my eyesight.«
    This was the first time that Mr. Casaubon had spoken at any length. He
delivered himself with precision, as if he had been called upon to make a public
statement; and the balanced sing-song neatness of his speech, occasionally
corresponded to by a movement of his head, was the more conspicuous from its
contrast with good Mr. Brooke's scrappy slovenliness. Dorothea said to herself
that Mr. Casaubon was the most interesting man she had ever seen, not excepting
even Monsieur Liret, the Vaudois clergyman who had given conferences on the
history of the Waldenses. To reconstruct a past world, doubtless with a view to
the highest purposes of truth - what a work to be in any way present at, to
assist in, though only as a lamp-holder! This elevating thought lifted her above
her annoyance at being twitted with her ignorance of political economy, that
never-explained science which was thrust as an extinguisher over all her lights.
    »But you are fond of riding, Miss Brooke,« Sir James presently took an
opportunity of saying. »I should have thought you would enter a little into the
pleasures of hunting. I wish you would let me send over a chesnut horse for you
to try. It has been trained for a lady. I saw you on Saturday cantering over the
hill on a nag not worthy of you. My groom shall bring Corydon for you every day,
if you will only mention the time.«
    »Thank you, you are very good. I mean to give up riding. I shall not ride
any more,« said Dorothea, urged to this brusque resolution by a little annoyance
that Sir James would be soliciting her attention when she wanted to give it all
to Mr. Casaubon.
    »No, that is too hard,« said Sir James, in a tone of reproach that showed
strong interest. »Your sister is given to self-mortification,
