"You mean Jerusalem--Nazareth--the Dead Sea and all that?" he asked.
I felt my face growing red as at a frightful _faux pas_, but his
lordship only laughed, called me his "little nun," and said that since I
had been willing to leave the choice to him he would suggest Egypt and
Italy, and Berlin and Paris on the way back, with the condition that we
left Ellan for London on the day of our marriage.
After the party from Castle Raa had gone, leaving some of their family
lace and pearls behind for the bride to wear at her wedding, and after
Aunt Bridget had hoped that "that woman" (meaning Lady Margaret) didn't
intend to live at the Castle after my marriage, because such a thing
would not fit in with her plans "at all, at all," I mentioned the
arrangements for the honeymoon, whereupon Betsy Beauty, to whom Italy
was paradise, and London glimmered in an atmosphere of vermillion and
gold, cried out as usual:
"What a lucky, lucky girl you are!"
But the excitement which had hitherto buoyed me up was partly dispelled
by this time, and I was beginning to feel some doubt of it.
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