XXI

stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she would devote herself to Mr. Casaubon, and become wise and strong in his strength and wisdom, than to conceive with that distinctness which is no longer reflection but feeling⁠—an idea wrought back to the directness of sense, like the solidity of objects⁠—that he had an equivalent centre of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference.