The blue-green boudoir looked much more cheerful when Celia was seated there in a pelisse exactly like her sister’s, surveying the cameos with a placid satisfaction, while the conversation passed on to other topics.

“Do you think it nice to go to Rome on a wedding journey?” said Celia, with her ready delicate blush which Dorothea was used to on the smallest occasions.

“It would not suit all⁠—not you, dear, for example,” said Dorothea, quietly. No one would ever know what she thought of a wedding journey to Rome.

“ Mrs. Cadwallader says it is nonsense, people going a long journey when they are married. She says they get tired to death of each other, and can’t quarrel comfortably, as they would at home. And Lady Chettam says she went to Bath.” Celia’s color changed again and again⁠—seemed