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"No, no; it must be something else if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a sort of gypsy; he thinks nothing of leather and prunella." "Music apart, he is not always very agreeable. Do you like him?" "Yes: I think he is a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and bric-a-brac, but likable." "Do you know, I think he adores Mrs. Casaubon." "Poor devil!" said Lydgate, smiling and pinching his wife's ears.
Why should she defer the answer? She wrote it over three times, not because she wished to change the wording, but because her hand was unusually uncertain, and she could not bear that Mr. Casaubon should think her handwriting bad and illegible.
Between Grotius and Casaubon, who, at this time, resided in England, an intimacy had long subsisted.
"DEAR MR. CASAUBON, I have given all due consideration to your letter of yesterday, but I am unable to take precisely your view of our mutual position. With the fullest acknowledgment of your generous conduct to me in the past, I must still maintain that an obligation of this kind cannot fairly fetter me as you appear to expect that it should.
Lydgate made her drink a dose of sal volatile. "Let Mrs. Casaubon do as she likes," he said to Sir James, whom he asked to see before quitting the house. "She wants perfect freedom, I think, more than any other prescription." His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had enabled him to form some true conclusions concerning the trials of her life.
"It is so painful in you, Celia, that you will look at human beings as if they were merely animals with a toilet, and never see the great soul in a man's face." "Has Mr. Casaubon a great soul?" Celia was not without a touch of naive malice. "Yes, I believe he has," said Dorothea, with the full voice of decision. "Everything I see in him corresponds to his pamphlet on Biblical Cosmology."
Nor would Casaubon have wished to do so. He belonged to the past both by religion and raining, and he must be reckoned among the upholders of superstition. In the next year, 1669, John Wagstaffe, a graduate of Oriel College who had applied himself to "the study of learning and politics," issued a little book, The Question of Witchcraft Debated. Wagstaffe was a university man of no reputation.
It was a letter of two pages, and she immediately looked at the signature. "Mr. Ladislaw! What can he have to say to me?" she exclaimed, in a tone of pleased surprise. "But," she added, looking at Mr. Casaubon, "I can imagine what he has written to you about." "You can, if you please, read the letter," said Mr. Casaubon, severely pointing to it with his pen, and not looking at her.
Now, when he came up, he said to her very gently, "Rosy, dear, Mrs. Casaubon is come to see you again; you would like to see her, would you not?" That she colored and gave rather a startled movement did not surprise him after the agitation produced by the interview yesterday a beneficent agitation, he thought, since it seemed to have made her turn to him again. Rosamond dared not say no.
Isaac Casaubon, whose name in the sixteenth century shed lustre on the learned circles of Geneva, Montpellier, Paris, London and Oxford, began as professor of Greek, at the age of twenty-two; and Heinsius, his Leyden contemporary, at eighteen. It was at the age of twenty-eight, that Linnaeus first published his Systema Naturae.
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