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Celia
’
s
consciousness
told
her
that
she
had
not
been
at
all
in
the
wrong
:
it
was
quite
natural
and
justifiable
that
she
should
have
asked
that
question
,
and
she
repeated
to
herself
that
Dorothea
was
inconsistent
:
either
she
should
have
taken
her
full
share
of
the
jewels
,
or
,
after
what
she
had
said
,
she
should
have
renounced
them
altogether
.
"
I
am
sure
—
at
least
,
I
trust
,
"
thought
Celia
,
"
that
the
wearing
of
a
necklace
will
not
interfere
with
my
prayers
.
And
I
do
not
see
that
I
should
be
bound
by
Dorothea
’
s
opinions
now
we
are
going
into
society
,
though
of
course
she
herself
ought
to
be
bound
by
them
.
But
Dorothea
is
not
always
consistent
.
"
Thus
Celia
,
mutely
bending
over
her
tapestry
,
until
she
heard
her
sister
calling
her
.
"
Here
,
Kitty
,
come
and
look
at
my
plan
;
I
shall
think
I
am
a
great
architect
,
if
I
have
not
got
incompatible
stairs
and
fireplaces
.
"
As
Celia
bent
over
the
paper
,
Dorothea
put
her
cheek
against
her
sister
’
s
arm
caressingly
.
Celia
understood
the
action
.
Dorothea
saw
that
she
had
been
in
the
wrong
,
and
Celia
pardoned
her
.
Since
they
could
remember
,
there
had
been
a
mixture
of
criticism
and
awe
in
the
attitude
of
Celia
’
s
mind
towards
her
elder
sister
.
The
younger
had
always
worn
a
yoke
;
but
is
there
any
yoked
creature
without
its
private
opinions
?
"
‘
Dime
;
no
ves
aquel
caballero
que
hacia
nosotros
viene
sobre
un
caballo
rucio
rodado
que
trae
puesto
en
la
cabeza
un
yelmo
de
oro
?
’
‘
Lo
que
veo
y
columbro
,
’
respondio
Sancho
,
‘
no
es
sino
un
hombre
sobre
un
as
no
pardo
como
el
mio
,
que
trae
sobre
la
cabeza
una
cosa
que
relumbra
.
’
‘
Pues
ese
es
el
yelmo
de
Mambrino
,
’
dijo
Don
Quijote
.
"
—
CERVANTES
.
"
‘
Seest
thou
not
yon
cavalier
who
cometh
toward
us
on
a
dapple
-
gray
steed
,
and
weareth
a
golden
helmet
?
’
‘
What
I
see
,
’
answered
Sancho
,
‘
is
nothing
but
a
man
on
a
gray
ass
like
my
own
,
who
carries
something
shiny
on
his
head
.
’
‘
Just
so
,
’
answered
Don
Quixote
:
‘
and
that
resplendent
object
is
the
helmet
of
Mambrino
.
’
"
"
Sir
Humphry
Davy
?
"
said
Mr
.
Brooke
,
over
the
soup
,
in
his
easy
smiling
way
,
taking
up
Sir
James
Chettam
’
s
remark
that
he
was
studying
Davy
’
s
Agricultural
Chemistry
.
"
Well
,
now
,
Sir
Humphry
Davy
;
I
dined
with
him
years
ago
at
Cartwright
’
s
,
and
Wordsworth
was
there
too
—
the
poet
Wordsworth
,
you
know
.
Now
there
was
something
singular
.
I
was
at
Cambridge
when
Wordsworth
was
there
,
and
I
never
met
him
—
and
I
dined
with
him
twenty
years
afterwards
at
Cartwright
’
s
.
There
’
s
an
oddity
in
things
,
now
.
But
Davy
was
there
:
he
was
a
poet
too
.
Or
,
as
I
may
say
,
Wordsworth
was
poet
one
,
and
Davy
was
poet
two
.
That
was
true
in
every
sense
,
you
know
.
"
Dorothea
felt
a
little
more
uneasy
than
usual
.
In
the
beginning
of
dinner
,
the
party
being
small
and
the
room
still
,
these
motes
from
the
mass
of
a
magistrate
’
s
mind
fell
too
noticeably
.
She
wondered
how
a
man
like
Mr
.
Casaubon
would
support
such
triviality
.
His
manners
,
she
thought
,
were
very
dignified
;
the
set
of
his
iron
-
gray
hair
and
his
deep
eye
-
sockets
made
him
resemble
the
portrait
of
Locke
.
He
had
the
spare
form
and
the
pale
complexion
which
became
a
student
;
as
different
as
possible
from
the
blooming
Englishman
of
the
red
-
whiskered
type
represented
by
Sir
James
Chettam
.
