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CHAPTER IX . 1st Gent . An ancient land in ancient oracles Is called “ law - thirsty ” : all the struggle there Was after order and a perfect rule . Pray , where lie such lands now ? . . . 2d Gent . Why , where they lay of old — in human souls . Mr . Casaubon’s behavior about settlements was highly satisfactory to Mr . Brooke , and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along , shortening the weeks of courtship . The betrothed bride must see her future home , and dictate any changes that she would like to have made there . A woman dictates before marriage in order that she may have an appetite for submission afterwards . And certainly , the mistakes that we male and female mortals make when we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that we are so fond of it . On a gray but dry November morning Dorothea drove to Lowick in company with her uncle and Celia . Mr . Casaubon’s home was the manor - house . Close by , visible from some parts of the garden , was the little church , with the old parsonage opposite . In the beginning of his career , Mr . Casaubon had only held the living , but the death of his brother had put him in possession of the manor also . It had a small park , with a fine old oak here and there , and an avenue of limes towards the southwest front , with a sunk fence between park and pleasure - ground , so that from the drawing - room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a level of corn and pastures , which often seemed to melt into a lake under the setting sun . This was the happy side of the house , for the south and east looked rather melancholy even under the brightest morning . The grounds here were more confined , the flower - beds showed no very careful tendance , and large clumps of trees , chiefly of sombre yews , had risen high , not ten yards from the windows . The building , of greenish stone , was in the old English style , not ugly , but small - windowed and melancholy - looking : the sort of house that must have children , many flowers , open windows , and little vistas of bright things , to make it seem a joyous home . In this latter end of autumn , with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark evergreens in a stillness without sunshine , the house too had an air of autumnal decline , and Mr . Casaubon , when he presented himself , had no bloom that could be thrown into relief by that background . “ Oh dear ! ” Celia said to herself , “ I am sure Freshitt Hall would have been pleasanter than this . ” She thought of the white freestone , the pillared portico , and the terrace full of flowers , Sir James smiling above them like a prince issuing from his enchantment in a rose - bush , with a handkerchief swiftly metamorphosed from the most delicately odorous petals — Sir James , who talked so agreeably , always about things which had common - sense in them , and not about learning ! Celia had those light young feminine tastes which grave and weatherworn gentlemen sometimes prefer in a wife ; but happily Mr . Casaubon’s bias had been different , for he would have had no chance with Celia .
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