"Elinor cannot be said to have descended below her rank. It is
difficult to say what Mr. Ladislaw is, eh, James?"
Sir James gave a small grunt, which was less respectful than
his usual mode of answering his mother. Celia looked up at him
like a thoughtful kitten.
"It must be admitted that his blood is a frightful mixture!"
said Mrs. Cadwallader. "The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with,
and then a rebellious Polish fiddler or dancing-master, was it?--
and then an old clo--"
"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-humoredly. "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.
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