his is your mother," said Dorothea, who had turned to examine the
group of miniatures. "It is like the tiny one you brought me; only, I
should think, a better portrait. And this one opposite, who is this?"

"Her elder sister. They were, like you and your sister, the only two
children of their parents, who hang above them, you see."

"The sister is pretty," said Celia, implying that she thought less
favorably of Mr. Casaubon's mother. It was a new opening to Celia's
imagination, that he came of a family who had all been young in their
time--the ladies wearing necklaces.

"It is a peculiar face," said Dorothea, looking closely. "Those deep
gray eyes rather near together--and the delicate irregular nose with a
sort of ripple in it--and all the powdered curls hanging backward.
Altogether it seems to me peculiar rather than pretty. There is not
even a family likeness between her and your mother."

"No. And they were not alike in their lot."

"You did not mention her to me," said Dorothea.

"My aunt made an unfortunate marriage. I never saw her."

Dorothea wondered a little, but felt that it would be indelicate just
then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon did not proffer, and
she turned to the window to admire the view. The sun had lately
pierced the gray, and the avenue of limes cast shadows.

"Shall we not walk in the garden now?" said Dorothea.

"And you would like to see the church, you know," said Mr. Brooke. "It
is a droll little church. And the village. It all lies in a
nut-shell. By the way, it will suit you, Dorothea; for the cottages are
like a row of alms-houses--little gardens, gilly-flowers, that sort of
thing."

"Yes, please," said Dorothea, looking at Mr. Casaubon, "I should like
to see all that." She had got nothing from him more graphic about the
Lowick cottages than that they were "not bad."

They were soon on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy
borders and clumps of trees, this being the nearest way to the church,
Mr. Casaubon said. At the little gate leading into the churchyard
there was a pause while Mr. Casaubon went to the parsonage close by to
fetch a key. Celia, who had been hanging a little in the rear, came up
presently, when she saw that Mr. Casaubon was gone away, and said in
her easy staccato, which always seemed to contradict the suspicion of
any malicious intent--

"Do you know, Dorothea, I saw some one quite young coming up one of the
walks."