“Nonsense, Elinor,” said the Rector, rising. “It is time for us to go.”
“After all, he is a pretty sprig,” said Mrs Cadwallader, rising too, and wishing to make amends. “He is like the fine old Crichley portraits before the idiots came in.”
“I'll go with you,” said Mr Brooke, starting up with alacrity. “You must all come and dine with me to-morrow, you know—eh, Celia, my dear?”
“You will, James—won’t you?” said Celia, taking her husband’s hand.
“Oh, of course, if you like,” said Sir James, pulling down his waistcoat, but unable yet to adjust his face good-humouredly. “That is to say, if it is not to meet anybody else.”
“No, no, no,” said Mr Brooke, understanding the condition. “Dorothea would not come, you know, unless you had been to see her.”
When Sir James and Celia were alone, she said, “Do you mind about my having the carriage to go to Lowick, James?”
“What, now, directly?” he answered, with some surprise.
“Yes, it is very important,” said Celia.
“Remember, Celia, I cannot see her,” said Sir James.
“Not if she gave up marrying?”
“What is the use of saying that?—however, I’m going to the stables. I’ll tell Briggs to bring the carriage round.”
Celia thought it was of great use, if not to say that, at least to take a journey to Lowick in order to influence Dorothea’s mind. All through their girlhood she had felt that she could act on her sister by a word judiciously placed—by opening a little window for the daylight of her own understanding to enter among the strange coloured lamps by which Dodo habitually saw. And Celia the matron naturally felt more able to advise her childless sister. How could any one understand Dodo so well as Celia did, or love her so tenderly?
Dorothea, busy in her boudoir, felt a glow of pleasure at the sight of her sister so soon after the revelation of her intended marriage. She had prefigured to herself, even with exaggeration, the disgust of her friends, and she had even feared that Celia might be kept aloof from her.
“O Kitty, I am delighted to see you!” said Dorothea, putting her hands on Celia’s shoulders, and beaming on her. “I almost thought you would not come to me.”
“I have not brought Arthur, because I was in a hurry,” said Celia, and they sat down on two small chairs opposite each other, with their knees touching.
“You know, Dodo, it is very bad,” said Celia, in her placid guttural, looking as prettily free from humours as possible. “You have disappointed us all so. And I can’t think that it ever will be—you never can go and live in that way. And then there are all your plans!
