BOOK VI. THE WIDOW AND THE WIFE.
54. CHAPTER LIV.
 (continued)
"No! just imagine!  Really it was a mercy," said Celia; "and I think
 it is very nice for Dodo to be a widow.  She can be just as fond
 of our baby as if it were her own, and she can have as many notions
 of her own as she likes." 
"It is a pity she was not a queen," said the devout Sir James. 
"But what should we have been then?  We must have been something else,"
 said Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination. 
 "I like her better as she is." 
Hence, when she found that Dorothea was making arrangements for her final
 departure to Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappointment,
 and in her quiet unemphatic way shot a needle-arrow of sarcasm. 
"What will you do at Lowick, Dodo?  You say yourself there is
 nothing to be done there:  everybody is so clean and well off,
 it makes you quite melancholy.  And here you have been so happy
 going all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the worst backyards. 
 And now uncle is abroad, you and Mr. Garth can have it all your own way;
 and I am sure James does everything you tell him." 
"I shall often come here, and I shall see how baby grows all
 the better," said Dorothea. 
"But you will never see him washed," said Celia; "and that is quite
 the best part of the day."  She was almost pouting:  it did seem
 to her very hard in Dodo to go away from the baby when she might stay. 
"Dear Kitty, I will come and stay all night on purpose,"
 said Dorothea; "but I want to be alone now, and in my own home. 
 I wish to know the Farebrothers better, and to talk to Mr. Farebrother
 about what there is to be done in Middlemarch." 
Dorothea's native strength of will was no longer all converted into
 resolute submission.  She had a great yearning to be at Lowick,
 and was simply determined to go, not feeling bound to tell all
 her reasons.  But every one around her disapproved.  Sir James was
 much pained, and offered that they should all migrate to Cheltenham
 for a few months with the sacred ark, otherwise called a cradle: 
 at that period a man could hardly know what to propose if Cheltenham
 were rejected. 
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