Middlemarch (Chapter IV, page 1 of 11)


Previous Page
Next Page

1st Gent. Our deeds are fetters that we forge ourselves.
2d Gent. Ay, truly: but I think it is the world
That brings the iron.


"Sir James seems determined to do everything you wish," said Celia, as
they were driving home from an inspection of the new building-site.

"He is a good creature, and more sensible than any one would imagine,"
said Dorothea, inconsiderately.

"You mean that he appears silly."

"No, no," said Dorothea, recollecting herself, and laying her hand on
her sister's a moment, "but he does not talk equally well on all
subjects."

"I should think none but disagreeable people do," said Celia, in her
usual purring way. "They must be very dreadful to live with. Only
think! at breakfast, and always."

Dorothea laughed. "O Kitty, you are a wonderful creature!" She pinched
Celia's chin, being in the mood now to think her very winning and
lovely--fit hereafter to be an eternal cherub, and if it were not
doctrinally wrong to say so, hardly more in need of salvation than a
squirrel. "Of course people need not be always talking well. Only one
tells the quality of their minds when they try to talk well."

"You mean that Sir James tries and fails."

"I was speaking generally. Why do you catechise me about Sir James?
It is not the object of his life to please me."

"Now, Dodo, can you really believe that?"

"Certainly. He thinks of me as a future sister--that is all." Dorothea
had never hinted this before, waiting, from a certain shyness on such
subjects which was mutual between the sisters, until it should be
introduced by some decisive event. Celia blushed, but said at once--

Previous Page
Next Page


Rate This Book

Current Rating: 2.7/5 (63 votes cast)



Review This Book or Post a Comment