which
has been all the significance of its life - a significance which is to vanish as
the waters which come and go where no man has need of them? But there was
nothing to strike others as sublime about Mr. Casaubon, and Lydgate, who had
some contempt at hand for futile scholarship, felt a little amusement mingling
with his pity. He was at present too ill acquainted with disaster to enter into
the pathos of a lot where everything is below the level of tragedy except the
passionate egoism of the sufferer.
    »You refer to the possible hindrances from want of health?« he said, wishing
to help forward Mr. Casaubon's purpose, which seemed to be clogged by some
hesitation.
    »I do. You have not implied to me that the symptoms which - I am bound to
testify - you watched with scrupulous care, were those of a fatal disease. But
were it so, Mr. Lydgate, I should desire to know the truth without reservation,
and I appeal to you for an exact statement of your conclusions: I request it as
a friendly service. If you can tell me that my life is not threatened by
anything else than ordinary casualties, I shall rejoice, on grounds which I have
already indicated. If not, knowledge of the truth is even more important to me.«
    »Then I can no longer hesitate as to my course,« said Lydgate; »but the
first thing I must impress on you is that my conclusions are doubly uncertain -
uncertain not only because of my fallibility, but because diseases of the heart
are eminently difficult to found predictions on. In any case, one can hardly
increase appreciably the tremendous uncertainty of life.«
    Mr. Casaubon winced perceptibly, but bowed.
    »I believe that you are suffering from what is called fatty degeneration of
the heart, a disease which was first divined and explored by Laennec, the man
who gave us the stethoscope, not so very many years ago. A good deal of
experience - a more lengthened observation - is wanting on the subject. But
after what you have said, it is my duty to tell you that death from this disease
is often sudden. At the same time, no such result can be predicted. Your
condition may be consistent with a tolerably comfortable life for another
fifteen years, or even more. I could add no information to this, beyond
anatomical or medical details, which would leave expectation at precisely the
same point.«
    Lydgate's instinct was fine enough to tell him that plain speech, quite free
from ostentatious caution, would be felt by Mr